Daughter of the Loom (Bells of Lowell Book #1)

by Tracie Peterson

  A smiled formed on his lips. Lilly not only managed under such circumstances, she actually seemed to thrive. He’d never known her to look more beautiful. He thought back on his mother’s remark at breakfast several days ago.

  “Lilly won’t remain single for long, Matthew,” she had told him. “You must come to your senses and establish yourself in her life. You must give her a reason to believe you still care.”

  But what of her giving me a reason to believe she cares? Matthew mused. Although he was quite confident Lilly cared more for him than she let on. The crux of the matter was that he wanted her back in his life. He wanted to rescue her from her life at the mills and see her happy again. That didn’t seem like too much to ask for—but apparently it was. Lilly wanted no part of him. He represented the mills every bit as much as Kirk Boott did. No doubt Lilly hated them both.

  ****

  The sound of the morning bell disrupted Lilly’s dream. She had been running through the orchard with Matthew waiting in the distance, beckoning her toward him. The continual clanging of the bell was a wretched affirmation the apple-filled orchard had only been a dream; reality was this small, cold room on Jackson Street. Her body longed for additional sleep, but she knew such an idea was no more than a dream—an unfulfilled wish for something that would not occur. She threw back the heavy quilt and was assaulted by the frigid morning air. The November chill had formed an icy crust on the two small bedroom windows, and her breath was creating tiny vapor puffs with each exhale. With a shiver, she longed for the warmth of her family’s hearth.

  “You’d better hurry, Lilly. Nadene told me you were going to change her bandages before leaving for work this morning,” Marmi mumbled through the faded brown dress she was pulling over her head.

  The words caused Lilly’s feet to hit the floor. She quickly dressed and rushed downstairs, anxious to keep her promise to assist with Nadene’s care. Miss Addie had barely acknowledged Lilly’s offer to assist with the nursing duties when she had presented the idea. In fact, Miss Addie had been very quiet, almost aloof, since Mintie’s departure and the brief interrogation as to Lilly’s whereabouts a few nights earlier.

  “Good morning,” Lilly greeted as she skidded to a halt inside the downstairs bedroom. Her gaze was immediately drawn toward the dirty bandages lying on the table beside Nadene’s bed. “I came down to help with your dressings. Has Miss Addie already changed them?”

  Nadene nodded and coughed. “I told her you would be here to do it, but she said she didn’t need your help. She’s not acting like herself. It appears something is bothering her, but when I asked, she said she was fine.”

  Lilly gathered the dirty bandages and tucked them under her arm. “I was late. I should have been here on time. I’ll wash out the bandages and get them into some boiling water before I leave. I’ll stop in for a minute when I return for breakfast,” she promised, rushing from the room.

  Addie was in the kitchen, already setting bread to rise and making preparations for the morning meal. She was silent until Lilly filled a small basin with water and began to scrub the bandages. “Leave those dressings and go on to work. I can manage just fine without your help.”

  The words sliced through the air like shards of sleet on a winter day. “Are you upset with me, Miss Addie? Have I done something?” Lilly timidly inquired.

  “I guess you know better than I whether you’ve done something improper,” Addie replied, keeping her back turned toward Lilly.

  Lilly attempted to still the tremor that was rising in her throat. “I don’t think I’ve done anything, but if I have, would you please accept my apology? You’ve appeared angry with me of late, and the last thing I would ever want to do is hurt you, Miss Addie.”

  “Is that so? Well, if you don’t think you’ve done anything wrong, then I suppose you have nothing to apologize for—or to worry about for that matter. Final bell’s ringing. You best get down the street before they close the gate,” Addie replied without a glance in Lilly’s direction.

  Tears welled in Lilly’s eyes as she rushed from the room. The other girls were already gone. She grasped her cape and ran out the door, still tugging the woolen fabric around her body as she raced toward the mill. She scooted into the mill yard as Mr. Gault was closing the gate. “Best hurry, young lady,” he called, giving her a broad smile.

  Lilly gave him a quick wave as she continued onward. One or two other girls joined her in a sprint toward the stairwell. By the time she reached her floor, Mr. Arnold was perched on his stool waiting to command the machinery into operation. Lilly wound her way down one of the aisles and came to a halt behind her machines just as he lowered his arm, signaling work to begin. Lilly pulled the lever on the four spinning frames and attempted to catch her breath. She glanced toward Mr. Arnold; he was watching her every move.

  When the breakfast bell finally rang, Lilly quickly pulled the handles on her frames and scurried toward the door. “See that you’re back on time, Miss Armbruster. Let’s don’t forget I’m doing you a favor permitting you to operate those extra machines,” Mr. Arnold stated as she passed him.

  She didn’t have the energy to argue. “Yes, sir,” she replied. The smirk that immediately crossed his lips annoyed her, but Thaddeus Arnold was forgotten by the time she entered the boardinghouse again. Quickly filling a plate with food, she made her way to the bedroom. “I’ve brought you some breakfast,” she informed Nadene.

  Nadene gave her a bright smile. “Sit down and eat it yourself. Miss Addie brought me my breakfast before you got here, but I’d love your company.”

  Lilly attempted to hide her disappointment. It was becoming obvious that Miss Addie wasn’t going to accept her offer of assistance. Lowering herself into a chair positioned near the bed, she took a bite of ham. “I think Miss Addie is angry with me, but I’m not sure why. Has she said anything to you?” Lilly asked.

  Nadene gave her a thoughtful look. “She hasn’t said anything, but I can try to find out if you like. She has been unusually quiet.”

  Lilly swallowed a mouthful of food and wiped the corners of her mouth. “I’ve already asked her. She didn’t give me a straight answer, but I honestly can’t think of anything I’ve done to upset her.”

  “Try not to worry, and I’ll see if I can get her to talk to me while she’s doing her mending this afternoon,” Nadene said. “Are you having a good morning?” A cough wracked her frail frame.

  Lilly grimaced as Nadene’s breathing came in ragged gasps. Had her lungs been further damaged by the fire? “I’m not sure there’s much else that can go wrong today. I’d better take my plate to the kitchen and get back to work. I don’t dare rush in at the last moment again. Please rest easy,” she said, turning back to her friend. “You must get well.”

  ****

  Matthew pulled the carriage to a halt and then assisted Isabelle and her mother and aunt toward the front gate of the Appleton Mill. “Here we are,” he announced as they neared No. 2. “It’s a bit noisy inside,” he absently warned the women, his thoughts wandering back to the sight of William Thurston and Lewis Armbruster entering one of the newer hostelries known as the Wareham House as he had passed down Merrimack Street only minutes earlier. Seeing Lewis and William deep in conversation caused Matthew to recall the day he and Kirk had observed both of them slinking about the Acre. Those two men were cut from the same cloth—both self-serving, angry tyrants willing to hurt anyone who might get in their way. He wondered why they might be keeping company.

  Isabelle tugged at Matthew’s arm, a look of disgust crossing her face. “It’s beginning to snow. Are we going to stand out here in the cold, or are you intending to take us inside?”

  Matthew started to attention. “My apologies, ladies. This way, please,” he said as he led them to the front gate and rang the bell. Mr. Gault came outside and gave them a hearty wave. “Good afternoon, Mr. Gault. I plan to take the ladies through No. 2. I thought we would stop here for a moment before getting started.”

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sp; “Pleased to have you,” he said as he opened the gate and led the group across the yard and into the building. “In this building we have girls who trim, fold, and prepare the cloth for shipment,” he explained, pointing across the room. “We also have an office where we maintain the time cards, pay records, and accounts of the Corporation,” he advised as he led the group into the counting room.

  Isabelle glanced about the room. “Why do you keep the employees locked in here?” she inquired, nodding toward the gate they’d entered.

  “The bells ring announcing the time schedule of the mills—when to rise, when to arrive, when to leave for meals, when to return from meals. The gates are closed once the final bells ring. If an employee is late, it’s noted on the pay and attendance records,” he replied. “Surely you’ve heard the bells ringing since your arrival in Lowell.”

  Isabelle nodded. “A person would have to be totally deaf not to hear those annoying bells ringing all the time,” Isabelle replied, looping her hand through the crook in Matthew’s arm and stepping closer.

  Matthew glanced at her fingers that were grasping his arm in a possessive grip. “Thanks for your assistance, Mr. Gault. I think we’ll go over and let the ladies have a look at the carding machines. Shall we, ladies?” he asked while leading the three women out the door. “The Corporation has what we refer to as a bale-to-bolt operation. The cotton arrives in bales, then it’s opened, picked, and then cleaned on the machinery over on that side of the room. And these machines,” he hollered above the noise, “are the carding machines—very dangerous. These machines comb and strain the cotton fibers into slivers.”

  Isabelle tugged on his arm. Matthew knew she wanted to leave, but Neva and Mrs. Danbury appeared to have an interest in the operation, asking questions as they slowly moved about the room. Matthew leaned down to Isabelle’s ear and said, “Go and wait by the stairs. We’ll be out shortly.”

  When they finally joined Isabelle, she was pacing back and forth in the tiny stairwell. “I’m freezing out here.”

  “I doubt that, dear,” Neva replied. “The stairway is enclosed.”

  Isabelle stomped her foot. “Well, it may be enclosed, but it’s not heated, and my feet feel as though they turned into icicles.”

  “Would you like to remain in the counting room until we’ve finished?” Matthew offered.

  Neva moved forward and took hold of her daughter’s arm. “I don’t think an hour of discomfort will do you any harm, Isabelle. Come along,” she said while giving Isabelle a gentle push toward the steps.

  Matthew led them onward until they stood in front of the door to the third floor. “We have drawing and spinning machines in separate areas on this floor. As you can already hear, it’s very noisy. There are drawing machines, where the long slivers from the carding machine are stretched until the ropes are about two inches thick. Those fragile ropes go to the roving machine, where they are drawn out and lengthened still further and given a slight twist, although the fiber is still very weak and breaks easily at this point,” he explained, looking among the three women as he spoke. “Let’s go in and have a look,” he said before pulling open the door and escorting them inside.

  Isabelle immediately thrust a finger in each ear. Matthew grimaced while watching her attempt to zigzag through the aisle of machinery, her elbows flapping in midair. Reaching from behind, he grasped her arms and pulled them down. “You need to keep your arms down, or your clothing may get caught in the machinery,” he said while leaning over her shoulder and speaking into her ear.

  * * *

  It seemed the afternoon would never end. Lilly turned off one of the frames, bent over, and removed a row of thread-laden spindles, placing them into a box that one of the young bobbin girls was awaiting. Lilly gave the child a quick smile and began refilling her frame with empty spindles. Her back aching, she finished the chore and stood up, poised to slap the lever into action. Her raised arm, however, stopped in midair. Matthew was a few feet away, leaning toward Isabelle and whispering into her ear. Lilly watched a demure smile play at the corner of Isabelle’s perfectly shaped lips as she glanced over her shoulder toward Matthew. An unexpected knot formed in Lilly’s stomach as she viewed the two of them—Matthew, Kirk Boott’s favored protégé, arm-in-arm with Isabelle Locklear, Boott’s very available niece. Why was the sight of them almost more than Lilly could bear? After all, she no longer cared one whit about Matthew Cheever. She attempted to turn her gaze, but the sight of them held her captive until she realized Matthew was returning her stare. He smiled and began moving toward her with Isabelle following quickly behind. Exactly what she didn’t want!

  “Lilly!” Matthew mouthed her name.

  She nodded while reaching into one of the frames to fasten a broken thread. He moved to her side and yelled above the din, “We’re touring the mill. Could we observe you working at your machines?”

  Shrugging her shoulders, Lilly pointed toward Thaddeus Arnold. She wanted to scream at him to take his lady friends away from this place—away from her. Instead, with Mr. Arnold’s permission, they gathered around, watching each movement as Lilly tended the frames, their finery a stark reminder of her disheveled hair and shabby dress. Thankfully, they attempted to ask few questions. The older women appeared entranced at the sight of the machinery; Lilly felt entranced with Matthew.

  Lilly breathed a sigh of relief when the group finally exited the floor. Matthew had touched her arm and mouthed his thanks before escorting them toward the door. Lilly had continued working, ignoring his overture—angry he had singled her out as an example to his respectable friends. The final bell rang, and she hit the four levers and hurried toward the door. Her head throbbed, her arms and legs ached, and Lilly longed for peace and quiet. But there was no place of solitude in the boardinghouse. Perhaps Miss Addie would be happier this evening. The strain of Miss Addie’s cool behavior toward her these past few days had taken its toll. A hint of misery seeped into her step; she missed the older woman and her cheery camaraderie.

  Chapter 23

  Kirk kissed the cheek his sister offered as the driver completed loading trunks onto the awaiting coach in front of his home. “I really would prefer you wait until after the Christmas holiday for your return to Boston, Neva. You did promise you’d stay with us at least six weeks,” Kirk said while eyeing his niece, who had already seated herself inside the carriage.

  Neva held Kirk’s hand momentarily. “I know, and we truly appreciate your hospitality, but under the circumstances . . .”

  Kirk nodded his understanding while assisting Neva into the coach. “I’ll be in Boston after the first of the year. I’ll call on you at that time, but please send word immediately if you should need anything before then.”

  “You know I will, and please don’t worry. Isabelle will be fine once she’s back in Boston. There will be a flurry of parties for her to attend. You and Anne have a wonderful holiday.”

  Kirk motioned to the driver, who immediately flicked the reins and set the horses into motion. Neva waved a gloved hand as they pulled away from the house. Watching until the coach was out of sight, Kirk placed his beaver hat firmly upon his head and headed off toward the Appleton. It was cold, but he decided the brisk air would do him good. Wondering how much of the information Isabelle had related was truth and how much was exaggerated rhetoric due to a deflated ego, he determined a visit with Matthew should set the record straight.

  Stomping the mud from his boots before opening the door, Kirk entered the counting room of the Appleton. The ever-watchful Mr. Gault had seen him coming and rushed out to have the gate open for his arrival. Good man, Gault, he thought. Wonder if Matthew’s considered him for a promotion.

  “Ah, there you are, Matthew. I was hoping you’d be in here,” Kirk said as he entered Matthew’s small office and seated himself in the one available chair for guests.

  Matthew glanced up from his desk. “What brings you out in this cold, damp weather? Is there a problem at one of the mills?”
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  “No, nothing so dreadful. Our Boston visitors left a short time ago, and I thought you and I might discuss what happened between you and Isabelle. I don’t mean to appear obtuse, but I’m not sure if she was completely forthright with me. Would you consider telling me exactly what occurred? She seemed positively adamant about returning to Boston immediately.”

  Matthew rubbed his forehead and met Kirk’s gaze. “We had a disagreement after she toured the mill. She told me she would never consider living in a small city such as Lowell and that she finds the whole concept of the mills disgusting. She was planning to have you arrange work for me in Boston, and when I told her I had no desire to leave Lowell, she became angry, saying I was attempting to manipulate her. Quite frankly, I think she believed our relationship had developed to a much more serious level than I had yet considered, sir.”

  Kirk rose from his chair and walked to the window. He stood with his back toward Matthew. “I suspected as much, although I will tell you that I’m disappointed. I had hoped you and Isabelle would find a common ground, but I know she’s a determined, self-centered young woman. She led me to believe that you had, well, how shall I say it? Treated her with less than proper respect.”

  Matthew could feel his heart begin to race. “What? I did no such thing, and I’m shocked that Isabelle would stoop to such tactics. Granted, she was angry when I told her I had no intention of making my home in Boston or of an imminent marriage, but I thought we parted with a mutual understanding that we weren’t compatible. She even spoke of a man in Boston who had recently proposed to her,” Matthew explained. “I hope you believe that I would never do anything to compromise any woman. It’s not who I am nor what I believe in.”

  Kirk turned around and faced Matthew. “I suspected Isabelle hoped you would be the recipient of my wrath. Isabelle doesn’t take rejection easily.”

  The subject of Isabelle was soon discarded for talk of production and expansion, with Kirk spending the greater share of the afternoon in Matthew’s office. By the time Kirk started toward home, he knew hiring Matthew had been an excellent decision. There was no doubt the Associates needed Matthew more than Isabelle did. And besides, they would appreciate him more.