Friday morning, Briar found George and sent him into the country with a message for Mrs. Prince: We need help.
When Briar arrived at the boardinghouse for dinner, she found Fanny and Miss Olive conspiring in the parlor, Fanny looking guilty and Miss Olive frustrated.
“The children?”
Fanny stood, straw hat in hand. “They’re fine, dearie. With the Princes. The Mrs. sent me with the remedies.” She indicated the pile of baskets gathered on the floor of the parlor.
Miss Olive stood and took two baskets with her. “I’d better get started. Girls?” she called to the returning operatives. “Hurry up and eat.”
“Are you staying the night in town?” Briar asked Fanny.
“Oh no, I’ll stay long enough to help Miss Olive with the ministrations, but I’ll be back to the children by nightfall. Don’t want them to worry. Although, I’m sure they are having fun at the farm. I’m afraid they’ll try to talk the Princes out of more animals if I leave them too long.”
“How do you travel so quickly from place to place?” Briar asked.
“Oh, I have my ways.” Fanny winked.
Briar’s curiosity was piqued. How did a fairy travel? Via the wind, according to Briar’s mam.
“Now, you wouldn’t consider moving out to the cottage until this…this trial has passed, would you?” Fanny asked. “The children would love to have you home for longer than a speck, and you’ve only got two more working days until your birthday.”
“I’d get fired for breaking my contract if I didn’t show up for work.”
“Take special care, then. I haven’t been able to find Isodora, but she’s bound to be close and watching. She’ll be getting anxious that you haven’t pricked your finger yet. Especially after all she’s put into escaping my surveillance, finding the spindle, and then finding you. All too perfect for her to walk away from. You won’t expect her tricks, so be extra careful. If you feel weak about touching the spindle, feign illness and go home. In fact…” Fanny felt Briar’s forehead. “I think you’ve got a fever. Let’s get you home now.” She grabbed Briar’s arm and started to tug.
“Maribelle. I can’t leave her. Don’t worry. I’ll be careful, and in a few more days, I won’t need to be so timid around the spindle. I’ll be seventeen and can help you get it off the frame without fear of sudden death. Then you can take it back to wherever it came from.”
Later that afternoon, Maribelle was doffing as usual when a movement caught Briar’s eye. It was quick, but after years of intervening in the twins’ mischievousness, Briar could sense when a little one was about to be foolish. Briar turned her full attention to the girl. She was pushing her cart of bobbins down the aisle when, quick as anything, she pulled the bobbin off the wooden spindle and then reached out with her other hand to run a finger along the spindle.
“Maribelle, don’t!” Briar cried out, but she was too far away to be heard above the machines. Briar ran for the girl, but she wasn’t in time to stop her from licking the sticky sweetness off her finger. Shaking the startled girl, Briar yelled, “What did you do?” She pulled her kerchief from her pocket, dropping the blue silk onto the oily floor. “Spit,” she demanded, handing Maribelle the cotton handkerchief while Briar picked up the silk one.
Maribelle complied, keeping her head low. “Sorry, Briar. I know you didn’t want me near the spindle, but it was a dare. I had to do it.”
Briar bent down so she could look Maribelle straight in the eye. “What do you mean?” She used the blue silk kerchief to wipe the tears from Maribelle’s cheeks.
“The other girls dared me to do it. Said they all had, when we weren’t looking. I didn’t ’cause I didn’t want you to be angry, but today, I couldn’t help it. It’s all I’ve been thinking about and I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted to know what the syrup tasted like. They all said it was the best thing they’d ever tried.”
Even though she knew the answer, Briar had to ask. “What other girls?”
“The spinner girls. It’s a game they play when you’re gone or not looking and the overseer’s in his office.”
Briar immediately shut down all her frames and dragged Maribelle to the drinking bucket. “Rinse out your mouth now. Keep rinsing till I tell you to stop.”
That had to be the connection. Sadie, foolish girl, was the first to lick the sticky residue and the first to come down with symptoms of polio. But it wasn’t polio at all. At least not for the girls in the spinning room. It probably was polio in the outside cases, like the farm boy, but for the girls who’d taken the dare to sneak past Briar to her spindle, well, those girls were reaping the curse from Sleeping Beauty. Her spindle was poisoning everyone. There was no doubt now. She had to get it out of the mill immediately.
“I’m sorry, Briar. Truly I am.”
“Rinse. Don’t you dare swallow.”
The overseer saw them and marched down the row. “Why are your frames off?” he yelled. “We can’t afford any shutdowns. There are enough still frames as it is with all you weak girls falling sick.”
“They’ll be back on in a minute, sir. Just taking care of the wee one here.”
“Another one? Is she ill?” The overseer peered at them with interest.
“Not yet,” Briar said. She hoped she’d gotten the poison out quickly enough.
Briar guided Maribelle back to the frames and threw the shipper handle. “I’ll doff for you the rest of the day,” she told the girl. “You go see Miss Olive—do you know which house is hers?”
Maribelle nodded.
“Tell her Briar sent you for some of her special tea. And you let her know if you start to feel feverish.”
Briar stood, hands on hips, staring at the bobbin covering the wooden spindle. Threads whirred up and down, up and down, so smoothly it was mesmerizing to watch. After finally solving her frame’s problem, she’d have to get it out. The spindle was too much of a menace. If the operatives had turned it into a game, it was only a matter of time before it turned deadly.
While Briar watched over her frames, she waited for the opportunity to remove the wooden spindle. Since it was firmly attached to the frame, she’d have to knock it out. And if she couldn’t knock it out, she’d sneak back in somehow and light it on fire to burn it out.
There’d be no good way to explain her broken frame to the overseer, and with his temper, she’d likely be fired, and then labeled a troublemaker. She’d never find work in a mill again.
Even knowing she was doing the right thing, her heart weighed heavy. She’d worked so hard only to have her plans unravel on her. Perhaps she could get a job as a domestic servant, but that wouldn’t make her enough money to support both her and the children. Pansy would have to get a job as a doffer to help. It was everything she didn’t want to happen, but it was the way it had to be. She couldn’t risk sacrificing the operatives’ lives for her family’s happiness.
When the overseer went to the farthest corner of the room, Briar found the discarded metal spindle and used it as a wedge against the other spindles. She might damage the machine, but she planned to pop the wooden spindle out, or break it, or… She pulled and grunted with all her might but it would. Not. Budge.
She adjusted her grip and tried pushing the metal wedge to snap it off. Not one splinter. Briar hit the spindle with all her might to no avail.
She wiggled it at the base, but it held fast. Even after all that pounding, it wasn’t a bit loose. The bell rang and the girls shut down their frames. Briar dawdled until the room had cleared out. She bent down close to examine the spindle. How am I going to remove it? She pushed then pulled, trying to see if it had a weak spot.
“Hey, what are you doing there?” called the overseer.
Briar jumped, pricking her finger on the tip of the spindle.
She whirled around, automatically putting her finger in her mouth and sucking the pinprick of blood. She turned back around and replaced the bobbin. “I was just leaving.” She scurried out of the room and ran down th
e stairs. Oh no, oh no, oh no.
As soon as she was outside, she spat and spat until there was no moisture left in her mouth. Her fingertip was red from her sucking and a dark red pinprick revealed the spot where she’d accidentally touched the tip of the spindle.
The others had ingested the poison, but she had sent it right into her bloodstream. She hadn’t immediately fallen asleep, though, like Aurora in the fairy tale. Or dead. Fanny was right, the curse was weak. Maybe she wouldn’t die. Maybe the tea and liniment would help her, too.
She ran for the boardinghouse, the pain in her head growing with each step.
A crowd had already gathered outside in the shade of the porch. Seemed it was still too hot to be inside.
“You look flushed, feeling okay?” asked Mim, taking a step back.
Miss Olive felt Briar’s forehead. “You are a bit warm. Any other symptoms? Mim, go get Miss Fanny.”
“She’s still here? I’ve no other symptoms, but I suspect they will show up soon.” Briar thought about the progression from headache, to fever, sore throat, to leg paralysis, then weeks of recovery… At least she hoped there would be a recovery.
Miss Olive pulled her into the shade. “What happened?”
Briar shook her head. She couldn’t tell her boardinghouse keeper that she pricked her finger on a magical spindle. Instead of calling for the doctor, they’d be sending Briar to an asylum.
“I’m here. What’s happened?” Fanny ran to Briar’s side. She felt Briar’s forehead. “Miss Olive, please find us a ride to the cottage. We need to leave as soon as possible. Mim, get me a cold cloth.”
Her orders dispatched, Fanny focused her attention on Briar. “Was it the spindle?”
Briar nodded. “It was an accident. The overseer startled me.” She rubbed her temples. The pressure was setting in, making it difficult for her to think. “They’re getting sick from that sticky substance on the spindle. The girls are licking it.”
“They what?” Fanny sounded shocked. “I thought maybe that one girl was addled in the brain. The rest followed suit?”
“It became a dare to the other girls to get by me and taste the syrup from the spindle.”
“So that is how it’s being spread.”
“Maribelle,” Briar whispered. She gripped Miss Fanny’s arms. “She lives in the shanties on the edge of town with her family. She’s only ten and she completed the dare today. Such a wee thing, it’s bound to affect her quickly. I-I made her spit and rinse her mouth.” Briar should have taken better care of the child. As much care as she would have given to Pansy.
“Miss Olive is taking care of Maribelle. Briar? Briar. Stay with me.”
Fanny’s voice was growing faint, her face dark, as if Briar was falling into a deep tunnel, falling further, falling faster, falling deeper. She couldn’t move, only fall.
Fanny felt Briar’s forehead again. “Oh dear. It’s starting.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
What happened next all came in a blur. There was Ethel, who bundled Briar up and sat beside her in the wagon. Briar had no idea whose wagon it was; the sun was too bright in her eyes, making them tear up in pain. There were voices, but it sounded like they were talking underwater. Distant and distorted. A wet cloth was pressed to her forehead, but soon the cloth was as hot as her skin and offered no relief.
She tried to keep her thoughts and prayers focused on little Maribelle, but her mind kept slipping into nothingness. When a bump jostled her, she woke, only to wish she hadn’t. She tried to lift her head to see what was crushing her lower legs. They hurt and she wanted the weight off, but her mouth wouldn’t say the words. A moan finally escaped and Ethel got busy wiping her brow again.
“It’s hitting her faster than the others,” Ethel said. “I’m worried.”
Next thing Briar was aware of was being carried, feeling the gentle thump, thump of footsteps. It reminded her of when she was a child and her dad would carry her off to bed if she’d fallen asleep in the wagon. It was a comforting feeling, even if her body felt aflame. She was transferred to her bed, and refreshingly cool water was applied to her forehead.
“I’ll take it from here,” said Fanny. “Thank you, dears.”
“I have to get back, but you should stay. For when she wakes up.” The voice was Ethel’s.
“No. No, I can’t. I’m leaving, too.”
A deep voice. A man’s voice. Henry? Could Henry be home and back at the cottage? Oh Henry. It would be good to see him again. She missed him terribly. Missed the way he would tease her on their walks. How kind he was to the children. Henry, sweet Henry.
“I have to leave for Burlington.” He brushed her hair away from her forehead. “I’m sorry you’re hurting. Get better soon, okay?”
A flash of light as the door opened, then back to darkness. A jingle of reins and clomp of hooves. Wheeler. It was Wheeler who carried her in. But he wasn’t staying.
Where was Henry? He was missing. He was the one who should be here. Why wasn’t he here? He loved it here.
And where were the children? She couldn’t hear them playing. It was too quiet in the little cottage, as if everyone were holding their breath.
She tried to tell them it would be okay, but her mouth wasn’t working. So hot. So raw. She tried to fight the darkness but it was too strong. She let it overtake her.
When she came to next, there was a glow of candlelight and hushed voices of the children and scraping of plates. It was comforting to be home with family, even if she wasn’t at the table with them. She turned her head, letting her eyes adjust to the light. Even the dim, smoky haze was too much for her sensitive eyes, and she closed them again, but not before Benny saw her.
“She’s awake.”
“Briar?” Pansy came over, her sweet voice thick with concern. “Are you alive?”
Briar forced herself to smile. At least she hoped it was a smile. Her body didn’t seem to be responding to the commands she tried to give it.
“Fanny, look. She’s okay.”
“All right, child. Come away and finish your supper.”
“Will we get polio, too?” asked Jack. Last winter both boys came down with the chicken pox and, once the worst was over, thought it great fun to be allowed to eat and play in bed. Until they grew so restless they were begging to be let outside.
“No, dearie. What Briar has can’t be caught. You’ll be fine.”
While everyone was distracted, Briar tested out her limbs. Her legs hurt and she couldn’t move them no matter how hard she tried. She couldn’t tell if she was moving her toes at all. But her arms allowed her to slide herself up on her pillow. They ached a little and this worried her. What if the paralysis worked its way up even farther? To her lungs? Her heart?
Briar must have drifted off again, because the next thing she knew, Fanny was bustling around the room, putting up dishes and hustling the children to bed. Once gentle snores indicated the children had fallen asleep, Fanny came over, a cup of tea in hand.
“A good, strong briar-rose tea. Not at its full strength this time of year, but it should slow the progression of the poison,” she said. “Good thing I make it a habit to grow a variety of roses no matter where I am, don’t you think?” Fanny helped Briar sit up with extra pillows, enough to drink without spilling. The extras would have come from the children’s beds. Bless those wee ones for sharing.
While Briar sipped, Fanny lifted the blankets and applied liniment to Briar’s lifeless legs.
It was a strange sensation. Briar couldn’t feel the touch on her skin, but there was pressure and it hurt from the inside out. She winced.
“Sorry, dearie. It must be done.”
Briar gritted her teeth. Fanny had the boniest fingers.
“I know your throat is sore; don’t try to talk.” She paused, and Briar nodded for her to continue. “Even after all you knew, you still pricked your finger on the spindle.”
Nod. Briar held up her finger, showing the spot of blood.
�
��How does she do that?” Fanny whispered. She sighed and rubbed liniment on the spot. “Too late for this, but it won’t hurt.”
Briar held back her tears. All those years of avoiding any mill accidents only to be pricked by a spindle. And of the thousands of spindles, Briar had to go and prick herself on the one that could cause her the most harm.
“Well, you’re not dead yet,” Fanny stated matter-of-factly. “For that, we can be thankful. As long as there is life there is hope, yes? Let’s go over everything again and see if we didn’t miss something important.”
Briar closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on Fanny’s voice over the pain.
“As the youngest fairy, I always have to wait until the end to give my blessings to the babies. And tiny Aurora—she was a sweet little babe—had been given such wonderful ones already. My blessings had been taken: beauty, cleverness—that’s my favorite—and singing. I was slow trying to come up with something unusual and the other fairies—there are several of us—were getting impatient. You should have seen Prudence! Was she ever giving me the look. I’m sure you’ve seen it.”
Briar managed a smile. Yes, she did know the look.
“Is that the blue silk?” asked Fanny, reaching to pull it out of Briar’s pocket. “I forgot all about the cloth. I’m cleverer than folks give me credit for. Have you been using this to protect yourself? It provides a small barrier to Isodora’s magic.”
“When I put the spindle on the machine, I had it wrapped in the cloth, to hide it.” Briar paused to swallow. “I thought maybe it would look like I was cleaning my frame. I hadn’t physically touched the spindle at all until today.”
Fanny tucked the cloth back in Briar’s pocket. “Is the light hurting your eyes?” she asked. She blew out a candle, dimming the room even more. White smoke rose in a swirl and looped around Fanny’s head. Fanny watched the smoke, her eyes growing distant. She let out a deep breath. “Seems I lost track of the evil one, and that made the others nervous. And a bit angry with me.” She held up her hands in a stop motion. “In my defense, I told them I wasn’t the best fairy to put on the job, but the others didn’t want to be tied down. And since I’m the youngest, it seems I have to do what they say.
Spindle Page 20