Daughter of the Loom (Bells of Lowell Book #1) (27 page)

“No, but her breathing is shallow—there was a lot of smoke in the room. She’s unconscious and burned in several places. Let’s get her back to the boardinghouse. I’m hopeful she’ll come around, but I’m afraid she’s going to have some terrible scars. Would you carry that?” he asked, nodding toward the Bible lying atop Nadene’s soot-covered dress.

Lilly reached up and gathered the book into her hands. “It was her grandmother’s Bible. Her mother gave it to Nadene when she moved to Lowell,” Lilly explained as she attempted to clean the stained leather cover with her dress. Words of wisdom and insight to the Scriptures were inscribed upon the pages—Nadene’s only link with her beloved grandmother. Of course she would walk through fire to retrieve it.

“I had to pry it from her hand. What was it doing in the spinning room, anyway? There are rules against reading at work,” Matthew challenged before breaking into a fit of coughing.

Lilly glared in response. “Rules? My friend is dying and you’re telling me about rules?”

Matthew glanced down at her. “Don’t overstate the situation in order to change the subject, Lilly. Nadene is injured, but she’s not going to die. We don’t permit reading or other activities at work because we want to prevent you girls from injury. And although her reading didn’t cause the fire, the fact that she ran back in the building was based solely upon the fact that she wanted to retrieve her Bible. Had the Bible been at home where it belonged, Nadene would be safe.”

“Or if the fire had never started,” Lilly murmured.

“The fire was an accident over which we had no control. Fires and textile mills are constant companions. The Bible, however, should not have been there. Nadene
had
control of that situation. If she had followed the rules, this accident could have been prevented. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Lilly nodded in acknowledgment. She longed to tell him he was the one who didn’t understand—that she alone was responsible for Nadene’s perilous situation. Yet she remained silent, lacking the courage it would take to speak the truth. Guilt wound around her heart like roving to a spindle.

“I sent one of the men to fetch Dr. Barnard. Try not to worry. The damage is minimal, and we should be back in operation by morning.”

He was obviously attempting to cheer her, but his words only made it more difficult for Lilly to bear. Nadene was injured, and she had failed in her mission.
I should have waited until evening to start the fire
, she thought. But having evaluated the prospect of remaining behind after the final bell, Lilly knew such a feat would have been impossible. Thaddeus Arnold was always the last one out of the room each evening, making sure the lamps were snuffed and the room was in proper order for the next morning’s work. He would never permit an operative in the spinning room after his own final departure. But at the breakfast and dinner bells, the man wasn’t nearly so cautious. Like the rest of them, he was anxious to rush home for his meal. Knowing she must protect the lives of those working in the mills, Lilly had hoped that the half-hour break would permit the fire adequate time to do its damage. She had been wrong.

She touched Matthew’s arm as they reached the front door of the boardinghouse. “If there was so little damage to the Appleton, how is it Nadene’s condition is so dreadful?” she inquired with her voice trembling.

“From all appearances, her cloak caught on fire, which caused the burns to her hands and arms. Smoke caused the remainder of her health problems. I’m guessing she became disoriented in the haze and couldn’t find her way out of the building.”

The front door opened. It was obvious Miss Addie had been watching for them, no doubt informed by some of the girls who had run ahead to explain the situation.

“Follow me, Matthew. We’ll put her in my bedroom. Dr. Barnard is waiting,” Addie instructed as she led the way to her room. “Put her on the bed—carefully, we don’t want to cause her undue pain.”

Matthew nodded his agreement before lowering Nadene onto the crisp white sheet. “I’ll leave her in your hands, Dr. Barnard. I must get back to the mill and then report to Mr. Boott.”

“Absolutely, Matthew. You’ve done all you can for the girl. Miss Addie and I will see to her care,” Dr. Barnard replied.

Lilly could no longer hold her emotions in check. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she viewed Nadene’s condition. Along one of Nadene’s arms angry red flesh appeared to be blistering, while the other was interspersed with purplish black wounds. Both hands were charred and blistered. The smell was unlike anything Lilly had ever known. She felt her stomach churn and knew she might very well lose the contents of her stomach.

Backing out of the room, Lilly fought the sensation of dizziness that threatened to send her to the floor.
What have I done? Dear God, what have I done?

****

Matthew rushed back to the Appleton, relieved when he was met by a calm-looking Hugh Cummiskey. “We’ve got things here under control, Mr. Cheever,” Hugh reported. “The fire is out and once the smoke has cleared, work can begin.”

“How much damage?” Matthew inquired.

“None to the machinery or the building itself. A cart of roving is ruined. Other than that, nothing of consequence.”

Matthew breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to carry a report of extensive damage to his boss. “I’ll feel better if I take a look for myself before reporting to Mr. Boott. He may ask if I’ve seen the damage for myself.”

Hugh nodded in agreement. “No need to explain, Mr. Cheever. I understand.”

Matthew ascended the stairway and surveyed the room. Cummiskey was correct. There was little damage, and work could certainly resume by morning if not sooner. Already the unpleasant smell of smoke had subsided, and several men were cleaning soot from the machinery and floor. Satisfied there was nothing further needing his attention, he returned to the mill yard, where Cummiskey awaited him.

He gave Cummiskey a slap on the shoulder. “You were right, Hugh. Thank you for your valuable assistance,” Matthew said. Turning to the supervisor, he added, “Mr. Arnold, I’ll leave it to your discretion to determine when work can commence.” He then headed off toward Mr. Boott’s home. He disliked being the bearer of bad news, especially when it entailed production at one of the mills. But he doubted whether anyone else had rushed to inform Boott. After all, it wasn’t a pleasant task. He sounded the doorknocker, surprised when Boott himself answered the door.

“None of the help is around when you need them,” Kirk said as he ushered Matthew into his office. “What brings you here this time of day, Matthew?”

At Kirk’s invitation, Matthew seated himself. “I wanted to personally advise you there’s been a fire in the spinning room at the Appleton.” Kirk jumped up from his chair at the report. “Very little damage. We’ll be operational by morning. Perhaps earlier,” Matthew quickly added.

“Details—give me details, my boy,” Kirk insisted.

Matthew reported what little he could and awaited Kirk’s instructions.

“Of course, I’d like to know
how
the fire got started, but I doubt we’ll ever gain that piece of information. However, it appears we may need to take further safety precautions. Why don’t you and the supervisors meet and discuss future prevention. You can report your ideas to me, and then we can make a final decision on implementation.”

Matthew agreed, pleased that their meeting had been brief and Mr. Boott had remained calm. “I’ll report back to you by Friday,” Matthew said as they walked onto the expansive front porch.

“Friday will be fine. I almost forgot—Isabelle, Neva, and several other relatives are arriving on Friday. I promised them a tour of the Appleton. They find this industrialization process difficult to fathom without actually seeing for themselves. Once they get inside, I’m certain they won’t want to remain for long. I told Isabelle I would have you take charge of the tour. I hope you don’t mind. There’s no hurry, for I think I’ve convinced Neva to remain in Lowell until after the holidays. And, of course, we’ll expect you to join us for dinner Saturday evening.”

“Certainly. I’ll be pleased to escort them through the mill,” Matthew replied. He knew there was no other acceptable answer.

****

Soon after Matthew had placed Nadene upon the bed, the cool, fresh air from Addie’s bedroom window, along with the vinegar Dr. Barnard had placed under her nose, rendered Nadene conscious. With Nadene’s awakening, her pain was clearly evident. Lilly couldn’t bear to watch the ministrations as Addie and Dr. Barnard separated Nadene’s fingers. Her friend’s hands resembled two giant spiderwebs by the time Dr. Barnard secured the splints and bandages. Lilly had followed Dr. Barnard’s directions and mixed a salve of linseed oil and limewater and then quickly exited the room, offering to complete Addie’s household chores.

While Lilly began paring potatoes for the evening meal, Nadene’s moans cut through the afternoon silence of the boardinghouse. Lilly began humming, then singing aloud, hoping she could drown out the sounds of her friend’s misery, along with her own guilt. When that didn’t work, she began to pray—first for Nadene’s healing, then for her own forgiveness. She wasn’t sure if it was answered prayer or the fact that Dr. Barnard had completed his treatment, but Nadene’s moans finally ceased. Although her own feelings of guilt had not completely diminished, Lilly knew she was forgiven for the part she had played in Nadene’s injuries. Along with that forgiveness came the awakening realization that her behavior had been for the fulfillment of her own selfish desires rather than at God’s direction.

Your sinful behavior is not from God
, a small voice seemed to whisper to her consciousness.

“I know, Lord,” she whispered. “Look what I’ve done in the name of righteous justice.” She closed her eyes, hoping she wouldn’t cry. But she was unsuccessful, and giant tears wet her thick dark lashes before tumbling down her cheeks.
How could I have been so wrong—so blind to the pain I might cause? I thought you’d given me a mission, but I’ve messed things up so badly
.

“Are you salting the potatoes with those tears?” Addie asked as she placed her arm comfortingly around Lilly’s shoulder.

Lilly sniffed and attempted a smile. “How’s Nadene?”

“She’s resting. Dr. Barnard gave her some paregoric. You better get back over to the mill. If they’ve started up production, Mr. Arnold will expect you to be there no matter what Nadene’s condition. Don’t you worry. I’ll be able to hear Nadene if she awakens.”

“I know you’re right, but going back into that mill is the last thing I want to do, Miss Addie.”

Once again Addie pulled Lilly into a comforting embrace. “I know, dearie, but there’s nothing to fear. I’m sure the fire was just one of those rare occurrences that won’t ever happen again. As the Judge used to say, you can’t let fear rule your life—you’ve got to get back up on a horse when it throws you.”

Lilly nodded. The lump in her throat prevented a reply.
If Miss Addie knew the cause of the fire, she wouldn’t be so quick to offer kind reassurances
, Lilly thought as she walked toward the Appleton. Wrapping her cape tightly against a bracing current of cold air that whipped down the street, Lilly tucked her head down and moved resolutely toward the mill yard. She must find Mr. Arnold and ask if he would permit her to operate Nadene’s frames. Locating Thaddeus Arnold was not difficult. He was rushing about the mill yard with his chest swelled out like a banty rooster as he issued orders to the clustered girls and pointed them toward the stairwell.

Hurrying toward the distasteful little man, Lilly called out, “Mr. Arnold! May I have a word with you?”

He peered over the top of his spectacles, his gaze roaming over Lilly’s body in a manner that caused her acute discomfort. He beckoned her forward.

Keeping her eyes focused downward, Lilly approached him. It required all the humility she could muster to stand before the pompous little man. “Would you permit me to operate Nadene’s frames until she is able to return?”

His lips formed a malevolent grin. “And my consent would be worth
what
to you?”

Lilly could feel the blood pumping, pulsing and coursing its way through her body, pounding upward into her temples. If she didn’t hold her temper in check, she knew she would explode at the pompous excuse of a man standing before her. She lifted her head and met his beady-eyed stare. “Why, Mr. Arnold, I was merely hoping to keep production at full rate—hoping to be of some assistance to you in this difficult time. With Sarah gone home for several months and now Nadene unable to tend her frames, I was certain you would be distraught over their vacancies.” Her voice was sweet and melodious, the very essence of a spring breeze floating through a brisk November morn. Even she was surprised by the gentleness of her reply.

Mr. Arnold appeared to be overwhelmed by her response. There was a momentary appearance of trust in his gaze. Ever so slightly, she lifted her eyebrows—waiting, anticipating his agreement. His lips turned upward into a smile that revealed his yellowed teeth. “You’re a difficult girl to figure out, Miss Armbruster. I never presumed you would be concerned about production in the spinning room. So you’re offering to operate Nadene’s frames while she’s recovering? Just because you want to help me keep production at full rate?”

Lilly’s gaze was fixed on his bony fingers as they moved across the growth of stubble along his jaw. “And because I want Nadene to receive her pay. She has her family to support.”

A spark of recognition shone in his eyes. “Ah, so it isn’t that you want to help
me
, is it, Miss Armbruster? What you really want to do is help your friend remain on the pay ledger, even though she won’t be working. Isn’t that correct?”

He was on the attack. “Technically, I wish to help you both, Mr. Arnold,” she replied, her voice resonating with all of the meekness she could muster.

He folded his arms across his sunken chest. “You realize I can order you to operate Nadene’s frames without additional pay. Operation of the machinery is at my discretion. So once again, Miss Armbruster, I would ask this: what is my agreement worth to you?”