A Fragile Design (36 page)
‘‘Seems William’s in the Acre every time I make a visit,’’ Matthew commented, looking back toward the table. ‘‘Is that J. P. Green over there? I wonder what in the world he would be doing here.’’
‘‘I don’t know. Mr. Green has begun coming down here occasionally. Mostly when Thurston is sniffin’ about. They appear to be on friendly terms. Now, Thurston is another story. He spends a great deal of time in and about the Acre. For a man who hates the Irish, he certainly seems to find something that pulls him back here all the time. What problem is it that brings you here?’’ he asked.
‘‘Why do you think there’s a problem?’’
‘‘Come now, Matthew. You wouldn’t be in the Acre at this time of night unless there was some kind of problem brewin’.’’
Matthew nodded. ‘‘You’re right, of course. I was hoping you could fill me in on any information you might have regarding some missing girls—missing Irish girls. The police tell me no one has filed a complaint with them, but it seems to be common knowledge around town.’’
Hugh nodded. ‘‘I went and talked to the police after the first ones disappeared. They said the girls probably ran off to get married or were hiding out somewhere in the Acre because they feared their drunken fathers. I’ve finally accepted the fact that they’re not going to do anything, and so I haven’t reported any disappearances beyond the first three. Personally, I think they’re pleased to hear when our numbers decrease.’’
Matthew’s eyes grew wide. ‘‘First three? How many have disappeared?’’
‘‘Seven so far—at least seven that I know about. There may be more.’’
His stomach lurched. ‘‘Seven! And none of these girls’ parents can explain why their daughters are missing?’’
‘‘No, although they were all comely lasses—at least that’s my opinion. I don’t know that the police would agree with that view.’’
Matthew remained silent. Now that he was armed with more information, he wasn’t sure what to do. He could feel Hugh’s gaze upon him. Finally he looked up and met the Irishman’s stare. ‘‘I’ll do something, Hugh. I don’t know how or what, but we’ve got to get to the bottom of this and find these girls. Bring me a list of the girls’ names, along with the names of their parents, tomorrow morning.’’
‘‘Thank you, Matthew. I appreciate your willingness to help. I’ll get the list to you first thing in the morning.’’
Matthew pushed back from the table, stood, and shook Hugh’s hand.
‘‘Not interested in watching the remainder of the wrestling match? It’s best out of five,’’ Hugh said with a lopsided grin.
‘‘I think I’ll pass on that offer. To be honest, I find William’s behavior rather disgusting.’’
Hugh gave a resounding laugh. ‘‘So do I. However, I enjoy watching him lose his money,’’ Hugh said as he walked with Matthew to the door. ‘‘I’ll stop by your office with a list of names in the morning.’’
Matthew nodded his agreement and stepped out into the street. An angry-sounding dog barked in the distance as he hurried out of the Acre. Slowing his pace, Matthew considered what Hugh had told him. Seven girls. What could have happened to them? It couldn’t possibly be a coincidence. And now Yankee girls were disappearing. Certainly there was a greater risk attached to these latest abductions. Since the Irish girls had been kidnapped without causing any stir from the police, it was little wonder the abductions had continued. He needed to devise a plan, and it was obvious the police weren’t going to be helpful.
His thoughts shifted to William Thurston sitting at the marred wooden table with his sweating hefty arm exposed—and that birthmark, an exact replica of the birthmark Lewis, Lilly’s brother, had described to Lilly as he lay dying. Why, Matthew wondered, did William Thurston spend so much time in the Acre? It made no sense that a man who constantly denigrated the Irish would languish in their company. Unless he had a mistress . . . and not just any mistress, but an Irish mistress. And if he had a mistress, might he have a child? And if he had a child, might that child have a mushroom-shaped birthmark? Could the child whom Lewis spoke of be William Thurston’s child rather than Lewis’s progeny?
Matthew attempted to remember exactly what Lewis had related to Lilly. He’d said there was a baby boy and that he was alive. He’d said the words
Paddy camp
and that the child had a mushroom birthmark on his arm. Lewis had been a handsome man who’d always had women falling at his feet—American women. Why would he have gone to the Acre to find companionship with a woman? William Thurston, however, was another story. Thurston would want to hide any illicit relationship from his wife. What better place than in the Acre? And yet, would William Thurston, a man who held an innate hatred for the Irish, take an Irishwoman as his mistress?
Matthew wondered what Lilly would say to his thoughts. She desperately wanted to find the mysterious child. But would she want to continue the search if there was a possibility the boy was not her nephew? Knowing Lilly, it would be difficult to convince her the child could possibly belong to another man. Even confronted with evidence of Thurston’s matching birthmark, it was doubtful whether Lilly would concede that she had misunderstood Lewis’s deathbed confession.
He sprinted up the steps leading to his front door. ‘‘Lilly, I’m home!’’ he called out, greeting her with a smile as she rounded the corner of the parlor and walked toward him.
He quickly weighed his options. Lilly would want to take immediate action; likely she’d expect to march into the Acre, inspect William’s arm, and confront him regarding the mysterious child. But at this time he couldn’t be sure the child’s birthmark and Thurston’s were alike.
I must find the child,
he decided.
There’s no other way to be certain
.
September 1831
September was a fine month for dedicating the new Catholic church. Matthew and Lilly were pleased to see the large turnout, and the bishop appeared surprised at the sizeable congregation that gathered. After the official blessing, he commented to Matthew that he’d underestimated the growing Catholic community. Lilly knew Matthew would have liked to have believed the man’s interest was because of the souls who would need guidance and direction. Instead, he’d already told her that the man saw a large congregation as a means of milking money out of those who were already dirt poor.
To Lilly’s surprise, Miss Addie and Taylor Manning had also decided to attend the celebration. Other than the four of them, there were no other non-Irish to be seen. Addie appeared astonished by the conditions of the Acre and the people around her, but she said nothing. Lilly, too, eyed the surroundings with disdain. Here was an expensive church, yet another monument to God . . . and all around the area children went to bed hungry, unclothed, and without so much as a pillow to lay their heads upon.
‘‘What are you considering?’’ Matthew asked softly. ‘‘You’re scowling.’’
Lilly shook her head. ‘‘Sorry. I was just concerned with the conditions. I’ve seen so many little children who have no shoes and who are caked in dirt. Does the Corporation care nothing for them?’’
‘‘They care,’’ Matthew replied. ‘‘They care that they’re here—instead of in Ireland. The Corporation would just as soon sweep them under the rug. They were never intended to be here. The Associates wanted only those big strapping men who could dig from dawn till dusk. Children and women were never part of the arrangement.’’
‘‘But now that they’re here, surely Kirk Boott and the others see the need of helping them to live in a proper manner.’’
‘‘Lilly, you’re positively radiant,’’ Addie said, coming to embrace her friend.
Matthew smiled at Taylor and extended his hand. ‘‘Well, there were times when I wondered if this church would get built, but here it is.’’
‘‘Looks as though it’s built to stay,’’ Taylor replied. ‘‘I suppose you’re surprised to see us here, but we promised John we’d attend and tell him all the details.’’
‘‘I didn’t know John was all that interested in the Irish or their church,’’ Matthew stated.
‘‘He’s made friends among the men and I think he sees it as a duty of friendship to see to the matter. But that aside, Mr. Cheever, I wondered if we might talk of other business—briefly. I realize it’s the Sabbath, but I want to ask you about some designs we’re having trouble with.’’
Matthew looked to his wife. ‘‘Would you spare me for a moment?’’
Lilly nodded. ‘‘Of course. Addie and I will visit. Why don’t you walk us back to the carriage and we can wait for you there. Afterward we can give them a ride home.’’ She turned to Addie. ‘‘Unless you drove also?’’
‘‘No, we walked. A ride home would be lovely,’’ Addie said as Matthew guided Lilly toward the carriage.
Once they’d been secured in the carriage and the men had stepped away several feet, Lilly turned to Addie. ‘‘What have you heard from John?’’
‘‘I’m afraid not very much. I so long for a letter from him, but he’s much too busy to write,’’ Addie explained.
‘‘I suppose he is. I’m sure he’s pining for you just as much as you’re pining for him,’’ Lilly said, patting Addie’s hand.
Addie smiled and motioned toward the church. ‘‘Such opulence in the midst of poverty. Can you believe the conditions here? I had heard stories—some I didn’t believe—but now I’m beginning to wonder. Taylor says there isn’t much to be done about it because most of the Yanks would just as soon see the Irish perish. He told me of one man who commented that he didn’t care if the children starved or froze to death this winter, so long as it eliminated more Irish from the face of the earth.’’
‘‘How awful,’’ Lilly said, shaking her head. ‘‘Surely there is something we might do to help them. Perhaps we could start some sort of aid society.’’
‘‘I doubt you’d find too many who feel as we do,’’ Addie declared. ‘‘I’ve heard negative comments even among my girls. Prejudice is such an ugly thing.’’
Lilly considered this a moment. ‘‘You know, Matthew has mentioned scraps, even bolts, of cloth—flawed cloth. . . . Do you suppose we might get the Association to let us have those?’’
‘‘Not if they know they’re for the Irish.’’
Lilly smiled and raised a brow. ‘‘Well, what if they’re for the Lowell Ladies Society, a collection of like-minded women who desire to make quilts for the poor?’’
Addie grinned. ‘‘We just won’t mention who the poor are.’’
‘‘Exactly.’’
Addie, Daughtie, Bella, and Lilly Cheever were gathered in Lilly’s parlor, each diligently stitching on a square that would eventually be quilted and fashioned into a coverlet of embroidered lambs and daisies for Lilly’s expected child.
‘‘I’m so pleased you invited us to spend the evening with you,’’ Addie commented as she knotted a piece of pale blue thread.
‘‘I thought it would be prudent to put some structure to our organization,’’ Lilly explained. ‘‘I know you’ve spoken to Daughtie and Bella about the society. Are you girls in agreement that it doesn’t matter who will receive our finished quilts?’’
Bella nodded. ‘‘I think it’s a marvelous idea. I’d like to mention it at the regular meeting of our mill girls’ organization. I believe there might be many there who would lend their skills to helping to make quilts.’’
‘‘So long as they don’t question where the articles we make actually go. We can’t risk having Kirk Boott refuse to give us seconds and scraps just because the items are going to bless the Irish.’’
‘‘Did Matthew believe that would be Mr. Boott’s response?’’ Addie questioned.
‘‘Matthew said that Kirk would see this as yet another issue the community would fight about. However, if we give quilts, clothes, and whatever else we choose to make to more than just the Irish, then the community as a whole will benefit. My heart is in seeing that the poor have something warm to get them through the winter.’’
‘‘Maybe next year we could plant a vegetable garden and raise food for the poor, as well!’’ Daughtie exclaimed.
‘‘I like that idea very much,’’ Lilly replied. ‘‘Matthew’s parents have a great portion of land that wasn’t sold to the Boston Associates. I wouldn’t be surprised if they would allow us a nice plot of land. If the girls agreed to help with the work, we might plant several acres in vegetables.’’
‘‘This ladies’ aid society is getting off to quite a start,’’ Addie said with a smile. ‘‘Who knows what we might accomplish.’’
They had worked for nearly an hour when Lilly stretched and put her sewing aside. ‘‘Would you like to see the baby’s room?’’
‘‘Indeed we would,’’ Miss Addie replied.
Bella was enchanted as Lilly led them up the wide staircase and into a small bedroom adjoining the one she and Matthew shared. The baby’s room was equipped with a beautifully carved maple cradle and matching chest. A rocking chair had been strategically placed near the lace-curtained window that overlooked Lilly’s small flower garden.
‘‘It’s a lovely room,’’ Bella said as she peeked out the window. ‘‘And what a lovely view. The children’s dormitory in Canterbury overlooked a flower garden. I always found great joy watching the flowers bloom each spring.’’
‘‘Did you spend a great deal of time with the little children?’’ She inquired, seating herself in the rocking chair.
Bella nodded her head. ‘‘We rotated our duties, but Daughtie and I always looked forward to our time with the children, didn’t we, Daughtie?’’
‘‘Oh yes,’’ Daughtie agreed. ‘‘It was such fun teaching them. Bella and I would take the little ones into the garden and read and sing. The children always lifted my spirits.’’
Lilly’s eyebrows furrowed. ‘‘The Shaker community does require celibacy, doesn’t it? So how do they have young children?’’ she inquired, a slight blush tingeing her cheeks.
‘‘Most belong to families who join the Society. Others are left because a mother or father can no longer care for them and the parents believe the child will be safe among the Shakers. Sometimes they return for their children, but most of the time they don’t,’’ Bella explained.
‘‘How devastating it must be for those parents to leave a child with complete strangers,’’ Lilly commented.
Bella watched as Lilly’s eyes clouded. ‘‘I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to upset you with such talk,’’ Bella said. ‘‘You’ll never be in a position where you must even think of such a thing.’’