A Fragile Design (23 page)

The tower bell clanged, warning them the gate would soon be closing. Several girls rushed past, while another group was clustered close behind. ‘‘That would mean more money, wouldn’t it? Are you going to accept the position?’’

Bella detected a hint of fear in Daughtie’s question. ‘‘If you’ll be happier if I remain nearby, I won’t accept. The money isn’t that important to me, Daughtie.’’

Daughtie shook her head back and forth. ‘‘No. Asking you to remain a weaver wouldn’t be fair. You should accept the position. I hear that it’s much quieter,’’ she said, a note of longing in her voice.

‘‘Would you be interested in the position?’’ Bella asked.

‘‘It wasn’t offered to me. I’m sure they feel you’re better qualified.’’

‘‘But we both know that I’m not. You would do a much better job; you have more patience, and you don’t mind working independently. When I decline the position, I could recommend you.’’

They hurried through the mill yard and began their ascent up the spiraling stairwell. ‘‘I don’t want you to refuse on my account. But if you should decide you’re not interested, you could mention my name,’’ Daughtie added quickly.

Bella gave her a smile. ‘‘It will be my pleasure, although I will miss you. But I fear that your Bible memorization will far surpass mine if you take the drawing-in position.’’

Daughtie giggled. ‘‘Then perhaps I will be forced to tutor you each evening.’’

‘‘You go on to your looms. I’ll stop and talk to Mr. Kingman,’’ Bella said as they walked through the door of the weaving room.

Bella breathed a sigh of relief. Mr. Kingman wasn’t occupied repairing one of the looms or busy with his paper work. He was a stern man, and the girls quickly learned he hated interruptions. ‘‘Mr. Kingman? May I speak with you?’’

He turned and nodded. ‘‘Have you made a decision about the drawing-in position?’’ he curtly inquired.

Bella nodded. ‘‘I realize it pays more money, but I’d prefer to stay here in the weaving room—at least for now. But if I may be so bold, I would suggest you offer the position to Daughtie. I mentioned there was an opening, and I know she’s interested. To be honest, Mr. Kingman, she would be much better at the position. She’s much more patient and prefers more solitary work. You know how quickly she’s learned her looms. She can even—’’

‘‘Bella,’’ Mr. Kingman interrupted, ‘‘I’m aware of Daughtie’s workmanship. I agree she would be a good choice. If you’re not interested, she may have the position. Tell her to report to me. She can begin today. Now get to your looms.’’

‘‘Thank you, Mr. Kingman,’’ Bella enthusiastically said as she clasped her hands together. She rushed down the aisle, careful to keep her skirts away from the machines that had already clattered into motion. When she finally gained Daughtie’s attention, Bella motioned her friend toward Mr. Kingman.

Daughtie nodded, slapped her looms to a halt, and hurried off. Bella was going to miss seeing her friend smile from across the aisle, but perhaps this new position would help Daughtie determine whether she should remain in Lowell or return to the Society. Already Daughtie had agreed that a portion of the Shaker beliefs were inconsistent with the Bible, yet Bella knew her friend was still drawn to the familiar environment in Canterbury. Perhaps God would speak to Daughtie’s heart.

Daughtie had been gone for only a short time when Mr. Kingman appeared. He had a young girl with long chestnut hair and a rather sallow complexion in tow. He motioned for Bella to shut down her looms and pulled the girl forward. ‘‘Bella, this is Virginia Dane. You’ll train her on the looms; she’s been on the spinning floor working for Thaddeus Arnold. He recommended her for this position.’’

The girl appeared frightened. Bella offered a broad smile and took Virginia’s hand. ‘‘Come stand by me at my looms and watch. I won’t start you on your own loom until—’’

‘‘She can begin on her own looms this afternoon. You can move back and forth across the aisle and help,’’ Mr. Kingman interrupted. ‘‘I don’t want both of Daughtie’s looms sitting idle any longer than necessary. Idle looms don’t make money.’’

Bella didn’t argue. She disagreed with Mr. Kingman, but she disagreed with many decisions regarding the operation of the Appleton. Nobody cared what she thought; after all, she was only an operative, easily replaced by another girl looking for work. Besides, the men who owned these mills touted themselves as forward-thinking simply because they employed women, when such an avowal was simply untrue. Bella had quickly realized the Associates hired women merely to benefit themselves and their profits. However, she believed these jobs would ultimately lead to a measure of equality for women. There was no doubt the Shakers were far advanced on the issue of equality.

When the breakfast bell finally rang, Bella pointed to the loom handle and motioned Virginia to stop the machine. ‘‘When we return from breakfast, I’ll have you try your hand at the loom,’’ Bella said, pulling the handle of the other machine.

Virginia’s eyes grew large, and the smidgen of color in her sallow complexion drained from sight. The girl scurried along in Bella’s footsteps until they reached the bottom of the stairs. Virginia’s hands were shaking in spite of the warm morning sun.

‘‘I don’t think I can ever learn that,’’ she said as she pointed up the stairwell.

‘‘Of course you can, Virginia. If the rest of us can learn to manage those beastly machines, you can, too,’’ Bella said, forcing a note of cheer into her voice. ‘‘You’re going to do just fine, and in a couple of weeks, you’ll wonder why you were ever concerned.’’

Virginia wagged her head back and forth. ‘‘I don’t think so. I wish I could go back to spinning,’’ she lamented.

Bella gazed into the girl’s frightened eyes. ‘‘Why did you move to weaving, Virginia? The money?’’

The girl continued to walk alongside Bella. ‘‘My family can certainly use the money, but Mr. Arnold gave me no choice. He said Mr. Kingman had requested a recommendation to fill a vacant position.’’

‘‘Then you must have been a very good spinner; otherwise, Mr. Arnold wouldn’t have recommended you. It appears as if Mr. Arnold believes you’re bright enough to learn a new job, and he’s giving you the opportunity to make additional money,’’ Bella encouraged.

Virginia gave her a feeble smile. ‘‘No, that’s not why. He wanted to hire another girl for the spinning room. She’s quite lovely—long flaxen hair and sparkling blue eyes. Mr. Arnold likes pretty girls, and I’m not pretty,’’ she said in a flat voice.

Bella startled at Virginia’s comment. She had heard rumors about Mr. Arnold and his behavior—stories of abusive behavior toward his wife and aggressive behavior toward the operatives.

But that had been a couple of years ago. The Arnolds now had a baby girl. Surely Mr. Arnold wasn’t returning to his former way of life. Perhaps Virginia misunderstood his intentions.

Unsure how she should react, Bella gave Virginia an encouraging hug. ‘‘You’ll be fine, Virginia. All you need is a little prac- tice and a dose of confidence. I’ll do my best to help you gain both.’’

Virginia tilted her head to the side as though it would help her digest the information. ‘‘Then I’ll try very hard, and perhaps I will learn,’’ she agreed.

They had reached the edge of the mill yard when Daughtie raced up behind them. ‘‘Well, did you miss me?’’ she asked with a grin.

‘‘Of course I missed you,’’ Bella replied. ‘‘This is Virginia Dane,’’ she said, turning toward the new girl. ‘‘She’s going to work your looms.’’

‘‘Hello, Virginia,’’ Daughtie said.

‘‘Hello,’’ Virginia replied. ‘‘I go in this direction,’’ she said, pointing toward a distant row of boardinghouses.

‘‘I’ll see you after breakfast,’’ Bella said, watching as Virginia departed.

‘‘She’s a frightened little mouse,’’ Daughtie commented.

‘‘Yes, very frightened,’’ Bella agreed. ‘‘Come on—the bells will be ringing us back to work before we’ve had our breakfast,’’ she said, urging Daughtie into the house.

After gobbling down her breakfast, Bella darted into the kitchen to check on Miss Addie before returning to work. Spying the older woman coming in the back door, Bella rushed toward her. ‘‘How are you today, Miss Addie?’’

The older woman patted Bella’s shoulder. ‘‘You need not fret about me, dear. I’m doing fine. Come visit with me tonight.’’

‘‘There’s the bell—I’ll talk to you this evening,’’ Bella promised as she rushed back into the dining room, through the parlor, into the hallway, and out the door. She quickly moved alongside Daughtie. ‘‘Did the morning go well for you, Daughtie?’’

Daughtie nodded as they walked down the street at a brisk pace. ‘‘I think I’m going to be much happier, but it will take time to become proficient. It is quieter, and for that I am grateful. I’ll give you all the details tonight,’’ she promised.

Bella was pleased by Daughtie’s enthusiasm. Perhaps they could visit with Miss Addie together this evening. Daughtie’s new position could prove an interesting topic to keep Miss Addie’s thoughts on something other than John Farnsworth’s absence, Bella decided.

Virginia, appearing even more fraught than she had a half hour earlier, stood beside Bella’s looms, awaiting her instructions. ‘‘Did you have a good breakfast?’’ Bella inquired, hoping to relieve the girl’s anxiety.

‘‘It was fine. I promise I’ll do my best, but I don’t remember anything you showed me, and I’ve been gone only a half hour.’’ The words tumbled from her lips as though she might forget them if she spoke slowly.

Patiently, Bella once again instructed Virginia, methodically moving her through the weaving process, step by step, until the girl appeared to gain confidence. Two hours later, Bella motioned to Virginia to take charge of one loom. Standing close at hand, Bella supervised the girl’s every move. Her first attempt at threading the shuttle proved difficult, but she persevered, finally succeeding. Bella applauded her success, hoping the praise would bolster Virginia’s confidence. Unfortunately, she appeared to grow more distraught each time a thread broke or a snag appeared in the cloth, her forehead lined with deep creases.

‘‘You’re performing as well as any of the new hires,’’ Bella shouted.

‘‘I find that difficult to believe,’’ Virginia shouted in return.

Bella hadn’t expected Virginia would believe her appraisal. The girl lacked self-confidence, and Bella wouldn’t change the girl’s level of assurance by speaking a few kind words. By midafternoon Mr. Kingman insisted on moving Virginia across the aisle. Bella didn’t argue, but for the remainder of the day she moved back and forth across the walkway, assisting Virginia while continuing to monitor her own machines, thankful it would soon be quitting time.

Bella was tending her own looms when Virginia stopped her machine to insert a full bobbin. Bella watched as Virginia sucked a bobbin thread through her shuttle and placed it in the race box before pulling the handle of her machine, sending it into action. Without warning, the shuttle jumped out of the race and flew through the air.

A piercing scream sliced through the humid atmosphere of the room. Bella turned in the direction of the deafening cry. Irene Duncan was on her knees as rivulets of blood cascaded down the side of her head and face. Virginia’s shuttle lay beside Irene.

‘‘You! Bring some clean rags for her head,’’ Mr. Kingman hollered as he rushed to Irene’s side. ‘‘The rest of you get back to work. You’re serving no good purpose standing around gawking.’’ He grabbed the shuttle from the floor. ‘‘Whom does this belong to?’’ he called out while holding the piece of wood and brass aloft.

‘‘It’s mine,’’ Virginia replied, her voice cracking with emotion. She retrieved the shuttle and dashed back down the row, her face as white as hoarfrost on a November morn. Not one of the other girls moved toward their looms.

Instead, Bella walked to where Virginia stood and drew her close. She wanted to ease the girl’s obvious horror. ‘‘I’m sure Irene’s going to be fine. This isn’t the first time a flying shuttle has hit an operative, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.’’

‘‘That’s for certain,’’ another girl said as the other operatives murmured their agreement.

‘‘Until they let us operate these machines at a safe speed, one where we can ensure quality and safety, there are going to be injuries,’’ Bella replied, raising her voice in order to be heard above the clanging tower bell. ‘‘It seems the owners care little about anything but a quick profit.’’

‘‘That’s likely true, Bella, but we’re here because we need the money, and I don’t think the Boston Associates are much interested in what a bunch of girls think,’’ another operative responded as they made their way out the door and began descending the winding staircase.

Bella nodded. She knew that come tomorrow morning, the machines would run at the same rapid pace as they had today. Yet the Associates’ unwillingness to make changes didn’t mean the men were right. In fact, Bella was certain they were wrong—dead wrong.

Daughtie rushed to meet Bella at the bottom of the steps. ‘‘Who was that Mr. Kingman carried down the stairs?’’

‘‘Irene Duncan,’’ Virginia lamented. ‘‘She’s my first victim.’’

Daughtie grinned at Bella. ‘‘I think you’re overstating just a bit. I mean, it’s not as though you set out to intentionally harm her, Virginia. Accidents occur frequently in the Appleton—I’m sure you’ve had your share on the spinning floor, haven’t you?’’

‘‘Well, yes, but I didn’t cause any of those.’’

‘‘Had Irene’s shuttle jumped out of the race and hit you, would you think she had planned to harm you?’’ Bella asked.

‘‘Of course not,’’ Virginia replied.

‘‘Well, then, why would you decide Irene, or anyone else, would consider you some sort of villain? Stop condemning yourself for the accident. Instead, offer your apologies and then do something to show your concern for Irene’s welfare. If she’s unable to immediately return to work, seek out girls who are willing to operate her looms so that she doesn’t lose her pay, offer to perform her errands, or offer to wash the clothing she was wearing at the time of the accident. She’ll be grateful, and it will ease your feelings of guilt and helplessness,’’ Bella suggested.

Virginia stared at her wide-eyed. ‘‘You’re very wise, Bella. I’ll go to her boardinghouse right now.’’