Daughter of the Loom (Bells of Lowell Book #1) (30 page)

“Isabelle! What a lovely gown.” Trite, but he could think of nothing else to say at the moment. It broke with etiquette that she should seek out a man who was not a relative. It also went against the rules that she should interrupt two men who were in the middle of a conversation.

“I couldn’t believe my ears when Uncle Kirk told me you had arrived nearly half an hour ago. Just why haven’t you been able to locate me during that expanse of time?” She gave him a coquettish smile and fluttered her long brown lashes.

“You’d best come up with an excellent reply, my young friend, or I dare say you’ll pay dearly,” Paul remarked as he slapped Matthew on the shoulder and walked off toward the center of the room.

“You’ll have to admit the room is extremely crowded, Isabelle. I spied Mr. Moody, and there was a matter I needed to discuss with him. Please accept my apologies,” he dutifully requested.

She gave him a sidelong glance and once again puckered her lips. Her brow creased into what Matthew assumed was intended to be a thoughtful pose. “I don’t suppose I have any choice but to forgive you. However, there will be no talk of business while you’re with me this evening,” she cautioned. “You didn’t mention my hair. Do you like it fashioned this way?”

Matthew nodded. “It’s lovely, very becoming.” For the life of him, he couldn’t remember how she had worn her hair the last time he’d seen her, but he’d told the truth. It was a becoming style, even if he couldn’t be considered an authority on such matters.

“You look quite stunning in that frock coat,” Isabelle gushed. “That shade of brown is quite perfect, and the fawn color trousers are absolutely the height of fashion. I’m pleased to see that you take such care with your appearance.”

Matthew tried not to appear amused, but the conversation seemed absolutely ludicrous. “I’m afraid I cannot take overdue credit for my attire. I simply grabbed the first available coat.”

“Oh, Matthew, you’re such a tease. Now come along,” Isabelle ordered, taking his arm as she pulled him into the line of guests that was beginning to form. “Aunt Anne has seated us together, but I’m sure you expected she would.”

“Of course,” he replied as they found their places at the table. “I would have been shocked by any other arrangement. Your uncle Kirk tells me you’re interested in taking a tour of the mills during your visit,” he continued as he helped her into her chair. Conversation with Isabelle was difficult. She didn’t want him to discuss his work, and he didn’t want to hear about the latest fashions or the social activities in Boston.

“Every year since my father’s death, his sister has come from England to visit. She’s the one who wants to view the operation of the mills here in Lowell. I think Uncle Kirk has failed to convince her that working conditions are dissimilar to those in English textile mills. Mother, of course, insisted that I accompany them. She thinks it will prove to be an excellent educational experience.” There was an evident note of disdain in her final remark. Obviously Isabelle was certain there was nothing to be learned anywhere but in Boston or abroad.

“I must agree with your mother. I think you will learn a great deal. At a minimum, it should make you thankful you’re not required to work in order to support yourself.”

Her head tipped upward and her back stiffened. “What a preposterous comment. The thought of such a concept is ludicrous, and I certainly don’t need to visit a mill in order to realize that such a fate is not a part of my future.” That said, she turned and directed a question to Jasmine Appleton, who was seated at her right hand.

“I’m sure there are others who have believed exactly the same thing,” Matthew softly replied. She didn’t hear him. He didn’t care. His thoughts were upon Lilly and the long days she now labored in the mills. Certainly she had never entertained the slightest notion that she would be working twelve hours a day at a spinning frame.

A smiled formed on his lips. Lilly not only managed under such circumstances, she actually seemed to thrive. He’d never known her to look more beautiful. He thought back on his mother’s remark at breakfast several days ago.

“Lilly won’t remain single for long, Matthew,”
she had told him.
“You must come to your senses and establish yourself in her life. You must give her a reason to believe you still care.”

But what of her giving me a reason to believe she cares?
Matthew mused. Although he was quite confident Lilly cared more for him than she let on. The crux of the matter was that he wanted her back in his life. He wanted to rescue her from her life at the mills and see her happy again. That didn’t seem like too much to ask for—but apparently it was. Lilly wanted no part of him. He represented the mills every bit as much as Kirk Boott did. No doubt Lilly hated them both.

****

The sound of the morning bell disrupted Lilly’s dream. She had been running through the orchard with Matthew waiting in the distance, beckoning her toward him. The continual clanging of the bell was a wretched affirmation the apple-filled orchard had only been a dream; reality was this small, cold room on Jackson Street. Her body longed for additional sleep, but she knew such an idea was no more than a dream—an unfulfilled wish for something that would not occur. She threw back the heavy quilt and was assaulted by the frigid morning air. The November chill had formed an icy crust on the two small bedroom windows, and her breath was creating tiny vapor puffs with each exhale. With a shiver, she longed for the warmth of her family’s hearth.

“You’d better hurry, Lilly. Nadene told me you were going to change her bandages before leaving for work this morning,” Marmi mumbled through the faded brown dress she was pulling over her head.

The words caused Lilly’s feet to hit the floor. She quickly dressed and rushed downstairs, anxious to keep her promise to assist with Nadene’s care. Miss Addie had barely acknowledged Lilly’s offer to assist with the nursing duties when she had presented the idea. In fact, Miss Addie had been very quiet, almost aloof, since Mintie’s departure and the brief interrogation as to Lilly’s whereabouts a few nights earlier.

“Good morning,” Lilly greeted as she skidded to a halt inside the downstairs bedroom. Her gaze was immediately drawn toward the dirty bandages lying on the table beside Nadene’s bed. “I came down to help with your dressings. Has Miss Addie already changed them?”

Nadene nodded and coughed. “I told her you would be here to do it, but she said she didn’t need your help. She’s not acting like herself. It appears something is bothering her, but when I asked, she said she was fine.”

Lilly gathered the dirty bandages and tucked them under her arm. “I was late. I should have been here on time. I’ll wash out the bandages and get them into some boiling water before I leave. I’ll stop in for a minute when I return for breakfast,” she promised, rushing from the room.

Addie was in the kitchen, already setting bread to rise and making preparations for the morning meal. She was silent until Lilly filled a small basin with water and began to scrub the bandages. “Leave those dressings and go on to work. I can manage just fine without your help.”

The words sliced through the air like shards of sleet on a winter day. “Are you upset with me, Miss Addie? Have I done something?” Lilly timidly inquired.

“I guess you know better than I whether you’ve done something improper,” Addie replied, keeping her back turned toward Lilly.

Lilly attempted to still the tremor that was rising in her throat. “I don’t think I’ve done anything, but if I have, would you please accept my apology? You’ve appeared angry with me of late, and the last thing I would ever want to do is hurt you, Miss Addie.”

“Is that so? Well, if you don’t think you’ve done anything wrong, then I suppose you have nothing to apologize for—or to worry about for that matter. Final bell’s ringing. You best get down the street before they close the gate,” Addie replied without a glance in Lilly’s direction.

Tears welled in Lilly’s eyes as she rushed from the room. The other girls were already gone. She grasped her cape and ran out the door, still tugging the woolen fabric around her body as she raced toward the mill. She scooted into the mill yard as Mr. Gault was closing the gate. “Best hurry, young lady,” he called, giving her a broad smile.

Lilly gave him a quick wave as she continued onward. One or two other girls joined her in a sprint toward the stairwell. By the time she reached her floor, Mr. Arnold was perched on his stool waiting to command the machinery into operation. Lilly wound her way down one of the aisles and came to a halt behind her machines just as he lowered his arm, signaling work to begin. Lilly pulled the lever on the four spinning frames and attempted to catch her breath. She glanced toward Mr. Arnold; he was watching her every move.

When the breakfast bell finally rang, Lilly quickly pulled the handles on her frames and scurried toward the door. “See that you’re back on time, Miss Armbruster. Let’s don’t forget I’m doing you a favor permitting you to operate those extra machines,” Mr. Arnold stated as she passed him.

She didn’t have the energy to argue. “Yes, sir,” she replied. The smirk that immediately crossed his lips annoyed her, but Thaddeus Arnold was forgotten by the time she entered the boardinghouse again. Quickly filling a plate with food, she made her way to the bedroom. “I’ve brought you some breakfast,” she informed Nadene.

Nadene gave her a bright smile. “Sit down and eat it yourself. Miss Addie brought me my breakfast before you got here, but I’d love your company.”

Lilly attempted to hide her disappointment. It was becoming obvious that Miss Addie wasn’t going to accept her offer of assistance. Lowering herself into a chair positioned near the bed, she took a bite of ham. “I think Miss Addie is angry with me, but I’m not sure why. Has she said anything to you?” Lilly asked.

Nadene gave her a thoughtful look. “She hasn’t said anything, but I can try to find out if you like. She
has
been unusually quiet.”

Lilly swallowed a mouthful of food and wiped the corners of her mouth. “I’ve already asked her. She didn’t give me a straight answer, but I honestly can’t think of anything I’ve done to upset her.”

“Try not to worry, and I’ll see if I can get her to talk to me while she’s doing her mending this afternoon,” Nadene said. “Are you having a good morning?” A cough wracked her frail frame.

Lilly grimaced as Nadene’s breathing came in ragged gasps. Had her lungs been further damaged by the fire? “I’m not sure there’s much else that can go wrong today. I’d better take my plate to the kitchen and get back to work. I don’t dare rush in at the last moment again. Please rest easy,” she said, turning back to her friend. “You must get well.”

****

Matthew pulled the carriage to a halt and then assisted Isabelle and her mother and aunt toward the front gate of the Appleton Mill. “Here we are,” he announced as they neared No. 2. “It’s a bit noisy inside,” he absently warned the women, his thoughts wandering back to the sight of William Thurston and Lewis Armbruster entering one of the newer hostelries known as the Wareham House as he had passed down Merrimack Street only minutes earlier. Seeing Lewis and William deep in conversation caused Matthew to recall the day he and Kirk had observed both of them slinking about the Acre. Those two men were cut from the same cloth—both self-serving, angry tyrants willing to hurt anyone who might get in their way. He wondered why they might be keeping company.

Isabelle tugged at Matthew’s arm, a look of disgust crossing her face. “It’s beginning to snow. Are we going to stand out here in the cold, or are you intending to take us inside?”

Matthew started to attention. “My apologies, ladies. This way, please,” he said as he led them to the front gate and rang the bell. Mr. Gault came outside and gave them a hearty wave. “Good afternoon, Mr. Gault. I plan to take the ladies through No. 2. I thought we would stop here for a moment before getting started.”

“Pleased to have you,” he said as he opened the gate and led the group across the yard and into the building. “In this building we have girls who trim, fold, and prepare the cloth for shipment,” he explained, pointing across the room. “We also have an office where we maintain the time cards, pay records, and accounts of the Corporation,” he advised as he led the group into the counting room.

Isabelle glanced about the room. “Why do you keep the employees locked in here?” she inquired, nodding toward the gate they’d entered.

“The bells ring announcing the time schedule of the mills—when to rise, when to arrive, when to leave for meals, when to return from meals. The gates are closed once the final bells ring. If an employee is late, it’s noted on the pay and attendance records,” he replied. “Surely you’ve heard the bells ringing since your arrival in Lowell.”

Isabelle nodded. “A person would have to be totally deaf not to hear those annoying bells ringing all the time,” Isabelle replied, looping her hand through the crook in Matthew’s arm and stepping closer.

Matthew glanced at her fingers that were grasping his arm in a possessive grip. “Thanks for your assistance, Mr. Gault. I think we’ll go over and let the ladies have a look at the carding machines. Shall we, ladies?” he asked while leading the three women out the door. “The Corporation has what we refer to as a bale-to-bolt operation. The cotton arrives in bales, then it’s opened, picked, and then cleaned on the machinery over on that side of the room. And these machines,” he hollered above the noise, “are the carding machines—very dangerous. These machines comb and strain the cotton fibers into slivers.”

Isabelle tugged on his arm. Matthew knew she wanted to leave, but Neva and Mrs. Danbury appeared to have an interest in the operation, asking questions as they slowly moved about the room. Matthew leaned down to Isabelle’s ear and said, “Go and wait by the stairs. We’ll be out shortly.”

When they finally joined Isabelle, she was pacing back and forth in the tiny stairwell. “I’m freezing out here.”

“I doubt that, dear,” Neva replied. “The stairway is enclosed.”

Isabelle stomped her foot. “Well, it may be enclosed, but it’s not heated, and my feet feel as though they turned into icicles.”