Daughter of the Loom (Bells of Lowell Book #1) (29 page)

Mintie’s determined voice demanded answers. “Where’s my sister?”

Nadene began to cough, causing Addie to reach for a glass of water. “I wish she’d stayed home,” Addie whispered as she offered Nadene the drink.

“Is she in there with that girl—the one that was burned?” Mintie again demanded.

Addie sighed and replaced the glass on the stand. “So much for our enjoyable time.”

“Yes. We were visiting in the bedroom—keeping Nadene company,” Lilly announced as Mintie entered the doorway.

“Adelaide! Come here—we need to talk,” Mintie commanded from the doorway.

“Why don’t you join us in here? My foot is causing me pain,” Addie said, pointing toward the footstool.

Mintie crooked her finger. “Out here now. We need privacy. It’s important.”

Addie rose from the chair and limped after her sister. “I’ll be back shortly,” she whispered to Nadene and Lilly.

Mintie turned toward her sister as soon as she had crossed into the kitchen, which was the only room that proved vacant. “You’d better sit down. I have some news—some unpleasant news—about your Englishman.”

“John Farnsworth? Oh, Mintie, I don’t want to have that ‘he’s a spy’ conversation again. I’ve listened to all your stories, and I still don’t believe John is disloyal to this country.” There was a hint of irritation in Addie’s voice.

Mintie pointed toward a chair. “Sit down, Adelaide. It’s worse than that. You’ve been betrayed. Not only is that Farnsworth fellow a traitor and a spy, he’s a womanizer.”

“A
what?
Oh, Mintie, would you please stop this nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense. You may recall that the temperance meeting was this evening.” Mintie didn’t wait for an answer. “I, of course, attended by myself since you elected to stay home. I was walking down Gorham Street minding my own business when something caused me to look over toward Whidden’s Mercantile. And who do you think I saw walking out of the store, arm in arm, laughing and talking like two lovebirds?”

Addie gave her sister a blank stare. “I have absolutely no idea, Mintie, but I’m sure you are going to tell me.” Why couldn’t her sister just leave her to enjoy the evening?

Mintie pursed her lips and pushed her spectacles onto the bridge of her long, narrow nose. “John Farnsworth and,” she paused momentarily, “your little boarder, Lilly Armbruster.”

Addie was silent.

“Did you hear me, Adelaide? John Farnsworth is courting Lilly Armbruster. I saw them with my own eyes. I’m sure you’d have to admit that Lilly was gone from the house earlier this evening. Well? She left the house, didn’t she?”

Addie nodded her head. “She was gone for a short time this evening.”

“There you have it. You can’t trust anyone. I told you that Farnsworth was up to no good, but did you believe me? And that Armbruster girl, I didn’t like her from the day she arrived. But did you listen to me? No. You took her in, treated her well, and now she’s turned on you. I’d wager she even knows you’ve taken a liking to Farnsworth, but that didn’t stop her.”

Addie placed her hands over her ears. “Stop it, Mintie. I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense. I can’t believe Lilly is interested in John Farnsworth.”

Mintie gave her a disgusted look before wagging her finger back and forth in front of Addie’s face. “You think Lilly wants to remain a mill girl the rest of her life? Farnsworth may not be wealthy, but I’ve heard he’s paid a handsome wage, and the Corporation is building him that fine house. It’s enough to turn a girl’s head.”

“You’ll not convince me any of this is true, so you may as well quit trying,” Addie declared. “If you’d like to visit about something pleasant, you’re welcome to join us in the bedroom. If not, I suggest you return home,” Addie announced as she rose from her chair.

“After what I’ve seen this evening, I have no intention of exchanging pleasantries with Lilly Armbruster. I’ll bid you good-night, Adelaide.” Head raised high, Mintie marched out the front door without further comment.

As soon as the front door had closed, Addie sat back down, her mind reeling with the accusations she’d just heard from her sister’s lips. Could it possibly be true? Lilly was a beautiful girl, capable of turning any man’s head. But wouldn’t she choose a handsome young man such as Matthew Cheever over a man old enough to be her father? Not that some girls didn’t prefer older men, Addie argued with herself. But it was Lilly who had encouraged the relationship with John Farnsworth. Why would she do such a thing if she were interested in him herself? None of this was making any sense. Perhaps the best thing was to confront Lilly.

Addie hobbled down the hallway, surprised that the throbbing sensation had disappeared from her foot. She could hear Lilly’s muffled voice and then listened as both girls said a quiet amen.

“Did Miss Mintie leave?” Nadene inquired as Addie entered the room.

Addie nodded and took her seat opposite Lilly. “My foot isn’t hurting as much.”

Nadene and Lilly smiled at each other. “We’ve been praying for you,” they uttered in unison.

“Thank you. It appears your prayers are being answered,” Addie responded. “It’s chilly outdoors tonight, isn’t it?” she inquired, her gaze focused upon Lilly.

Lilly gave an enthusiastic nod. “Oh yes, the wind is as blustery and cold as a frosty January morning. It took a good five minutes in front of the fire to ward off the chill when I returned home.”

Addie picked up her needle and began darning a hole in one of her woolen stockings. “I was surprised you went out on such a cold night. Did you have a meeting to attend?” she asked without looking up from her sewing.

Addie watched from under hooded lids as Lilly fidgeted and then glanced toward Nadene. “No. One of the girls mentioned a new shipment had been delivered to the bookstore. I was anxious to see what new titles had arrived.”

“I see. And did any of the other girls go with you?”

“No, none of the other girls.”

Addie couldn’t look at her young boarder. Obviously Mintie was correct. If there were nothing to hide, Lilly would have merely told the truth and explained why she and John had gone into town. Unfortunately, there appeared to be no other explanation for Lilly’s behavior.

****

That night before blowing out her candle, Lilly took up her Bible.
Oh, Father
, she began to pray,
thank you for the wonderful day. I’m excited to know that you have the ability to control the fate of the mills, without using me to do something dangerous or harmful. Soon the enemy will fall, and I couldn’t be happier. Once they see what they’re up against, that you stand between them and their fortune, they’ll hightail it out of here once and for all. Please, just keep my friends from harm
.

She opened her Bible and found herself staring down at the twenty-fourth chapter of Proverbs. It seemed as good a place as any to read. Her heart fairly soared, and the idea of bolstering herself further with Scripture was pure delight.

Verse ten caught her attention. “‘If thou faint in the day of adversity, thy strength is small.’” Her voice was barely audible as she mouthed the words. Lilly nodded in agreement. The need was great to stand firm when problems arose. She wanted her strength to be very evident.

She continued to scan the verses, hardly giving them much true attention. Her joy over the problems sustained by the mill that day kept drawing her back to thoughts on the matter. It wasn’t until Lilly reached the seventeenth verse that she took notice.

“Rejoice not when thine enemy falleth, and let not thine heart be glad when he stumbleth: Lest the Lord see it, and it displease him, and he turn away his wrath from him.”

Lilly read the verse over and over again. Rejoice not. It hardly seemed fair that a person was not to take joy in the defeat of her enemies. Lilly thought perhaps she’d misunderstood the meaning. She tried analyzing the verse in a different way, but there didn’t seem to be another way to look at it.

She flipped the page to the twenty-fifth chapter. Perhaps Solomon was simply feeling generous that day. Maybe she’d find further proof of her own feelings in the next passages.

Verse twenty-one loomed out at her.
“If thine enemy be hungry, give him bread to eat; and if he be thirsty, give him water to drink.”

She slammed the book shut. Maybe God would prefer she just go to sleep and not worry about it. After all, she wasn’t called to cause further harm, so perhaps she could avoid dealing with her enemies completely. She sighed.
But of course I have to deal with them. They’re all around me—maybe not here in my room, but the very room I share has been provided by them
.

She snuffed out the candle and snuggled down into the bed. Sometimes God’s Word made no sense at all.

Chapter 22

Matthew approached the front door of the Boott home at seven o’clock sharp with feelings of both equanimity and trepidation. While he wanted to be counted among Boott’s confidants, a member of the elite inner circle, he disliked being thrust into the role of Isabelle’s suitor. Other than their connection through Kirk Boott and the fact that they were both single, Isabelle and Matthew shared few interests. Perhaps during this visit they would find some common ground, and Matthew would view her in a new light. Thus far he’d seen a selfish, self-indulgent young woman who cared for little except the latest fashions and traveling abroad.

The front door opened, and Kirk greeted him with a genial smile. “Pleased you could make it, Matthew. I believe there’s someone in the parlor anxiously awaiting your arrival,” he said as he gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Shall we join the others?”

Matthew nodded, though he had a growing distaste for social gatherings of any type. They made him uncomfortable, yet he had learned long ago that dinner parties were a necessary evil in the business world—invented by a woman in order to spend a bit of time with her husband, he had decided.

The parlor was filled with chattering men and women dressed in their finery, each attempting to impress the others with a bit of gossip or talk of the latest social event. Paul Moody was standing near the fireplace, and Matthew began working his way through the crowd toward the man who capably headed up the mechanics of the mills while supervising the operation of the locks and canals.

“Mr. Moody,” he called out as he edged a bit closer. Continuing to weave his way through the crowd, he finally reached Moody’s side. “Glad to see you. I had hoped to get over and visit with you today but ran short of time. Any progress to report on that broken cog?”

Paul accepted Matthew’s proffered hand, giving it a hearty shake. “Good to see you, Matthew. To be honest, I didn’t know if I’d be here tonight. In some respects I had hoped for an excuse to stay away. I detest these required dinner parties,” he said under his breath. “However, we managed to repair the waterwheel over at No. 2, and the mill is in full operation once again.”

“That’s great news. The last I had heard, it appeared we’d be nonoperational for at least the full day tomorrow. Any idea what caused the problem?”

Paul rubbed a weatherworn hand across his forehead. “I dislike reporting this, but it appears there’s been some foul play.”

“What?” Matthew couldn’t believe his ears. “You think someone wants the mill shut down?”

“I don’t know what the actual intent might have been, but from our investigation it appears someone spent a great deal of time and effort under the darkness of night in order to damage the waterwheel. That cog couldn’t have possibly broken under normal conditions.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe your assessment, but the whole concept is difficult to believe. What purpose would it serve?”

Paul shrugged his shoulders and met Matthew’s gaze. “Perhaps someone bears a grudge against one of us or harbors jealousy over the return of profits we’ve begun to realize. And, of course, there are still those anti-Federalists who believe an agrarian society is the salvation of this country. Who knows how far they would go to make a point.”

Matthew stared into the fire, his thoughts whirling with the prospect that the Corporation might be dealing with deliberate criminal activity. If that were the case, there would most likely be future attacks. Any stoppage of the mills would mean a shortfall in profits, a dreadful prospect for the Associates. No doubt the Bostonians’ anger would initially be directed toward the Lowell management. And once their anger subsided, they would expect a quick and certain solution. It would be best to have the situation in control before any further trouble erupted. But how?

“How are things progressing with the Catholic church? Kirk mentioned Bishop Fenwick was to make a visit by the end of the year. Any word in that regard? It would appear that a church could be a stabilizing factor with the Irish,” Paul commented.

Matthew’s body snapped to attention. “You think the Irish are involved in this waterwheel incident?”

“Whoa! I didn’t say any such thing—the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. I was making an inquiry regarding a totally different topic, Matthew.”

“So you
don’t
think the Irish are involved?”

Paul grasped Matthew’s shoulder and gave him a broad smile. “If I knew who was responsible, I’d have already taken care of matters. I have no more reason to suspect the Irish than anyone else in this town.”

Matthew nodded. “I’m sorry. It appears as if I jumped to conclusions, Mr. Moody. To answer your question, Bishop Fenwick has sent word he’d rather wait until spring for his journey to Lowell. It seems he dislikes traveling in cold weather. He did say he would be able to make an announcement to his Catholic believers in Lowell upon his arrival.”

“I assume that means the bishop has received approval from higher authority to bless the project?”

“So it would seem,” Matthew agreed. “Mr. Boott was pleased by the message although a bit irritated the bishop was delaying his visit to Lowell.”

“
There
you are, you naughty boy.”

The syrupy words pulled Matthew’s attention away from Moody. He turned, his face now warm from the heat of the blazing fire. Isabelle stood beside him in a pale blue gown, the square neckline and sleeves embroidered with a shimmering gold thread, and her lips formed into a tiny pout. The voluminous sleeves, so popular of late, were held out by some manner, causing it to be almost impossible to stand very close to Isabelle from the side.