These Tangled Threads

by Tracie Peterson

  Digging deep into his pocket, Thaddeus slid his fingers around the old pocket watch his father had given him on his sixteenth birthday. He glanced down and noted the time before snapping the lid closed and shoving the timepiece back into place. Nearly five o’clock. A disgusted grunt escaped his lips. He had hoped to arrive earlier, but the old man wouldn’t lay a whip to his horse. Naomi would be busy preparing dinner for those girls she boarded in the house that he had acquired through his overseer position. No matter that the house belonged to the Corporation. Naomi’s possession of the dwelling had come through his effort, not hers. But the Corporation had elected to grant Naomi the privilege of remaining in the house. The thought still rankled him, yet he needed an excuse to return to Lowell. His wife and daughter provided justification for those visits.

  Tugging at his jacket, he brushed out the wrinkles while approaching the front door of what had once been his home. It chafed him to knock, but he yielded and did so. Three loud raps. The front door opened as he began to once again lower his fist against the door.

  Naomi stood before him, wiping her hands on a checkered towel, a flour-covered apron tied about her waist. “I wasn’t expecting you.” Her expression made it obvious she was neither anticipating nor pleased by his visit.

  He gave her an insolent grin. “No need to look so dour. You should be pleased to see your husband. Isn’t that what they teach you in that church you’ve been wagging off to every Sunday?”

  Her jaw went slack at the question. “I’m no longer your wife, Thaddeus. And who told you I’ve been attending church?”

  Pushing his way past her into the entryway, he removed his hat and wool coat, then meticulously hung them on the same pegs he’d used while living in the house. He turned and faced her. “I’m aware of everything you do, Naomi. The fact that I live in New Hampshire doesn’t preclude me from knowing your every move.” She shuddered visibly at the remark. He rubbed his hands together, enjoying her discomfort. “You know I don’t want Theona’s mind glutted with nonsensical religious babble.”

  Naomi straightened her shoulders and met his stare with what appeared to be a modicum of defiance. “Theona needs God in her life. Besides, attending church gives her the opportunity not only to learn she has a heavenly Father who loves her but also to observe men modeling that same type of love for their families. I want her to know there are such men so that one day when she’s considering marriage, she’ll seek a man who loves and serves the Lord. I don’t want Theona marrying a man she can’t love and respect.”

  Thaddeus felt his anger rise. “A man like me—is that what you’re saying?” he growled, clasping her face, his thumbs pushing hard into her hollow cheeks.

  She pulled back from him, pushing his arms away. “Why are you here? You knew Theona would be napping and I’d be busy preparing supper.”

  He bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to remain calm. He wanted to slap her until she said aloud that he was a wonderful man, worthy of her love, but he knew he dared not. Naomi turned away and took a step toward the kitchen before he caught her by the arm. “Don’t you ever walk away from me when I’m talking,” he said, jerking her forward until her body was against his. Grasping her chin in a rough hold, he lowered his face to hers. Too soon she realized his intent and pulled away. “I’m entitled to my rights as a husband,” he snarled.

  “You’re entitled to nothing in this house, Thaddeus. You’re no longer my husband. If your abusive behavior continues, I’ll be forced to report you to the Corporation and the judge. You’re only permitted to visit Theona in this house based upon the judge’s order and the Corporation’s agreement. And, if you’ll recall, the judge was concerned about your temper in Theona’s presence. I doubt he would look favorably upon your behavior today.”

  Thaddeus backed away, his anger seething inside him. He knew, however, he had to make her believe he was contrite.

  “I apologize. It’s just that I miss you and Theona so much, and when I come back here, I become angry realizing all that I lost with my foolhardy behavior,” he lied.

  Naomi gave him a sidelong glance. “You have a strange way of showing your remorse. Now if you’ll excuse me, you may wait for Theona in the parlor. I must finish preparing supper.”

  He silently chastised himself for his boorish behavior. If he was going to succeed in extracting information from Naomi, he needed to hold his temper in check. His very existence depended upon discovering some morsel of gossip to pass along to William Thurston. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Naomi stopped midstep. “You? Help in the kitchen?”

  He stifled the urge to spew what he was truly thinking and instead said, “Certainly there must be something I could manage to do without ruining the meal.”

  “You could set the table,” she curtly replied before walking off toward the kitchen. “The dishes and utensils are out here,” she called over her shoulder.

  There was a hint of mistrust in her tone, but he forced himself to appear unperturbed. Following along behind, he grimaced and replied, “I’ll do my best.”

  Naomi pointed toward the dishes and picked up a wooden spoon. She gave the ham and bean soup a quick stir, then scooped a measure of cornmeal into a large bowl. Thaddeus grabbed the dishes, quickly placed them on the table, and returned to the kitchen. “It appears the mills are continuing to operate in fine fashion,” he ventured.

  “Did you assume your departure would shut down the Corporation?”

  He gritted his teeth. “I was merely attempting to make polite conversation. I thought the mills would be a neutral topic we could discuss.” It took all the determination he could muster to maintain a note of civility in his tone.

  “I hear little of what goes on in the mills, and what I do hear, I soon forget. Most of it has little effect upon my life or Theona’s.”

  He stood staring at her back while she poured the corn bread mixture into an iron skillet. “Since your home and livelihood are dependent upon the Corporation, I’d say what goes on there does affect you.”

  “Umm, perhaps,” she murmured, obviously more intent on her baking than carrying on a conversation.

  The sound of Theona’s voice drifted into the kitchen, and Naomi quickly rushed off to fetch her. The child came hurrying into the room but stopped short at the sight of her father.

  “Aren’t you going to give me a hug?” Thaddeus held his arms open in a welcoming gesture and waited until the child hesitantly moved toward him. He pulled her into an embrace but quickly released his hold when she began squirming. “She seems to grow taller every time I see her.”

  Naomi nodded. “That tends to happen with children.”

  A short time later the front door slammed, followed by the sound of female voices. “Good evening, Mrs. Arnold,” someone called out.

  “Good evening, Daughtie; good evening, Ruth. Supper will be on the table by the time you wash up.”

  “Thank you,” the girls replied in unison.

  Thaddeus pushed his pride aside and said, “Am I invited to supper?”

  “I suppose, but please don’t make a habit of arriving at mealtime. I can’t afford to feed you.”

  Digging into his pocket, Thaddeus pulled out a coin and slapped it on the table. “I wouldn’t want it bantered about that I’m begging food from your table.”

  He watched as Naomi took the coin and slipped it into her apron pocket. After managing to save coach fare for his journey, he now found himself paying to eat in his own home. The gall of the woman! He silently followed her into the dining room, where the two girls were already seated at the table entertaining Theona.

  “Mr. Arnold will be joining us for supper, girls.”

  They looked at him with the same suspicion and wariness he’d observed only moments earlier in his own daughter’s eyes. It was obvious Naomi had kept the gossip about him uppermost in their minds. “Good evening, ladies. Ruth and Daughtie, if memory serves me correctly,” he said in his most gentlemanly fa
shion. “How are you this fine evening?”

  “I’m doing very well, Mr. Arnold,” Daughtie responded. “Are you visiting Lowell for long?”

  Brazen girl, he thought, but he gave her a pleasant smile. “I’m hoping to depart this evening if all goes well.”

  “Did you injure yourself, Mrs. Arnold? There are red marks on your face. In fact, there’s one along the left side of your face that appears to be turning blue. I hope you didn’t meet with an accident this afternoon,” Daughtie said, pointing toward Naomi’s jaw.

  Thaddeus came to attention at the comment. “You always were a bit clumsy, weren’t you, my dear?” Thaddeus dismissively questioned before quickly shifting his attention back to Daughtie. “Tell me, Miss Winfield, have there been any changes occurring at the Appleton? Even though I no longer work for the Corporation, I still maintain an avid interest in the mills.”

  “I’m unaware of anything that would interest you, Mr. Arnold. I merely go to work, perform my labor, and return home. If there were plans for change, I’m guessing that the mill girls would be the last to know. Did I mention I received my first letter from Bella, Mrs. Arnold?”

  “No. How exciting. Did she say if they encountered any problems on their voyage?” Naomi asked.

  Thaddeus perked to attention, his gaze fastened upon Daughtie as he anxiously awaited any details she might reveal.

  “She said the ship was quite beautiful, and they met with rough waters on only one occasion. Her missive detailed that the captain was extremely capable and maneuvered their ship through the storm with relative ease. I know Bella must have been relieved. Before they sailed, she expressed grave concern over becoming seasick. I told her I would be praying for smooth waters.”

  “I’m certain that must be what calmed the seas,” Thaddeus replied, unable to keep the sarcasm from his tone. “Where did your friend’s voyage take her?”

  “England,” Daughtie curtly answered. She shifted in her chair, turning her back toward Thaddeus. “She said that she and Taylor had attended a concert, but the letter was written only a few days after their arrival. The missive was certainly filled with joy and excitement. I can hardly wait to hear all the details of the journey upon her return.”

  “And Mr. Farnsworth’s father—how is he faring?” Naomi questioned.

  “Apparently his move to London was a wise decision. Bella says that the day they arrived, he was in fine spirits and appeared much improved. The family believes his regular visits to the doctor have been helpful.”

  “So the Mannings and Farnsworths are in England? I’m surprised John Farnsworth would return to his motherland,” Thaddeus commented offhandedly.

  “Why is that?” Ruth asked as she helped herself to another piece of corn bread.

  Thaddeus peered down his long, thin nose. “Men skilled in the art of fabric printing were valued in England. In addition, the English certainly didn’t want their secrets shared with the mill owners in this country.”

  Ruth’s dead-eyed stare affirmed what Thaddeus had always known: women had no comprehension of the business world. It was obvious the silly girl hadn’t begun to grasp the seriousness of his words and so he continued in his attempt to explain. “If English printers came here and worked for the mills in this country, the English mill owners knew it wouldn’t be long until we’d no longer need to import their cloth. Their profits would be drastically reduced. And that’s exactly what has occurred. Consequently, men like John Farnsworth are considered traitorous in some circles.” He enunciated each word, his voice taking on a singsong tone as though he were talking to Theona rather than a grown woman.

  Ruth’s head began bobbing up and down. “Oh, I see. Well, I don’t think Mr. Farnsworth would ever place his wife or Taylor and Bella in jeopardy. Besides, their visit was a surprise so I doubt any of those English mill owners will know they’ve visited until long after they’ve returned home.”

  “You’re probably correct,” Thaddeus agreed with a glint in his eyes. “And when will your friends be returning to the fair city of Lowell?”

  “I’m not certain. I think their return depends upon the health of Mr. Farnsworth’s father. However, since he’s making good progress, they may return soon. I certainly hope that’s the case,” Daughtie replied. “I’m hoping for another letter from Bella. Perhaps they’ve already boarded a ship for their return.”

  Thaddeus cringed at the thought. He was certain this news would interest William Thurston, but only if he could get word to him before John Farnsworth departed from England. Snatching up his napkin, he quickly swiped it across his mouth and shoved his chair away from the table. “I hate to rush off and leave such excellent company, but I’ve just remembered a matter that needs my immediate attention. Thank you for dinner, Naomi, and do be careful. I’d hate to see you suffer any other bruises. No need to see me to the door. I know my way out.”

  He shrugged his wiry frame into the wool coat and grabbed his hat from the peg before rushing out the front door. He would hurry to the stationer’s shop for supplies and pen a letter to Thurston this very night.

  CHAPTER 10

  London

  William Thurston stared into the mirror while fastening his collar. He took a moment to brood over his reflection, rather disturbed he now bore the receding hairline and long protruding brow that were both lineaments of his heritage. He had always hoped to avoid the strong familial resemblance to his father.

  His dull gray eyes stared back from the mirror and reminded him of his dreary wife and the marriage they had shared for nearly twenty years—utterly lifeless. Shortly after his departure from the United States, William had realized certain advantages flowed in his direction solely because he was a fugitive. The greatest of these benefits was being inaccessible to his wife, who continued to live in Massachusetts, ignorant of his whereabouts. Another was the opportunity to mingle with true bluebloods, a feat he would accomplish within the hour.

  It mattered little that his presence wasn’t truly desired at tonight’s gathering; he had managed to wangle an invitation from Chauncy Fuller, and he would attend, tipping his nose up in the air along with the rest of the gentry. He’d make them believe he was one of them. No one would be the wiser. This little get-together could provide access to some of the greatest fortunes in England. These men were the backbone of England’s industrial wealth. He smiled into the mirror. The Boston Associates paled in comparison to the men with whom he would dine this evening.

  Thurston walked down the stairs, a shiver of delight coursing through his body. Nathan Appleton, Kirk Boott, and the other Associates who so freely despised him would be amazed to find him mingling among the elite of English industry. He stepped out the front door of the small boardinghouse where he’d rented a room when he had first arrived in England. A coach and driver awaited him. William considered the cost of hiring the carriage and driver to be an investment in his future and willingly paid the fee. To be seen arriving afoot could cause questions regarding his suitability to attend tonight’s gathering.

  The ride was bumpy and the driver was careless in handling the horses, but William remained silent. He kept his mind focused upon the evening that lay ahead. “You can park and wait with the other drivers,” he instructed while clambering down from the carriage. The driver tipped his hat and flicked the reins, urging the horses forward, moving off toward the end of the circular driveway.

  William squared his shoulders and walked up the steps of the Fuller mansion. A butler, with silver tray in hand, stood guard at the front door, artfully extending the scallop-edged plate as each guest entered the front door. Placing his card in the center of the tray, William patiently waited until the butler returned and beckoned him forward. At the door of the main drawing room, the butler stepped aside and nodded. William walked into the room with its gilded walls and flickering candles, the shimmering light dancing down upon the Fullers’ jewel-bedecked female guests.

  His gaze flitted about the room, finally resting on Chaunc
y Fuller, who was standing alongside two women greeting the guests. William made his way toward the group and anxiously awaited his host’s acknowledgment. Chauncy nodded and welcomed William rather offhandedly with a slight bow.

  “Good evening,” he said, introducing him neither to the women nor to any of the gentlemen who stood nearby.

  Knowing he had never achieved anything in life by adhering to strict social mores, William realized he could ill afford to begin now. Edging his way into the circle of men, he stood listening attentively until the topic of American industry began seeping into the otherwise lackluster dialogue.

  William took a deep breath, infusing himself with courage. “I’d not talk too harshly against the textile industry in America. If their progress continues, they’ll soon be selling their cloth here in England.”

  A hush fell over the group as the men turned to face him. A tall, elegantly dressed gentleman stroked his mustache and narrowed his eyes. “You speak with an American accent.” The blistering words jabbed through the silence like a thrusting rapier.

  William nodded. “I was born in Massachusetts, although I come from a long line of fine Englishmen. My heart and loyalty are to the motherland, not America.”

  “Your words sound as though you have more belief in the ability of the Americans than the English. We’ve had years of industrialization in this country. The United States will not easily usurp our power,” the gentleman argued.

  William held out his hand to the man. “I’m William Thurston. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “Reginald Archer. I own a controlling interest in several cotton mills in Lancashire.”