A Fragile Design (5 page)
Bella attempted to pretend she couldn’t hear the conversation, for the driver’s embarrassment was obvious.
‘‘Payday’s the same for everybody, Luther, you know that. Last Friday of the month. You’ll need to line up out in the mill yard with everybody else,’’ Mr. Gault quietly replied. He drew closer to the driver and lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘‘If you’ll come back later, I can personally advance you a few dollars.’’
Luther’s cheeks flushed a rosy red. ‘‘Thank you, Mr. Gault. You’re a kind man.’’ Squaring his shoulders, the driver made his way to the door. ‘‘Your bags will be waiting at your boardinghouses, ladies. I wish you well.’’ He tipped his hat and quickly departed.
‘‘Ladies, I apologize for my inability to offer seating to each of you, but I will attempt to be brief. Each of you signed this document,’’ he said, raising the documents the driver had given him into the air. ‘‘However, there is an actual contract that must be signed prior to commencing employment with the Corporation. Until a full-time agent is hired at the Lowell Mill, I’m hiring for both the Appleton and the Lowell. You girls assigned to the Lowell will, most likely, have no further contact with me. The three of you,’’ he continued while looking at Bella, Daughtie, and Ruth, ‘‘will see me from time to time in the mill yard or here in the offices. You will certainly see me on payday,’’ he said with a smile as he handed each girl one of the contracts.
‘‘You can all read?’’
‘‘Yes,’’ they replied in unison.
‘‘Excellent! Please read the contract. If you agree to the terms, you will sign here.’’ He pointed to the blank line at the bottom of the page.
There was something about this room that reminded Bella of the Trustees’ Office at Canterbury, where the world’s people signed their contracts to enter the Society. It wasn’t the quietude or formality of the setting, for certainly this place was far from serene. And Mr. Gault’s manner, although forthright, held none of the austerity of the Elders as they had questioned novitiates. Perhaps, she decided, it was the solemnity of contracting her life to others, which was a concept she found particularly disquieting.
The girls took but a few moments to peruse the paper work. Bella watched each one sit at Mr. Gault’s desk and pen her name and was surprised when no questions were asked.
When her turn arrived, Bella seated herself, folded her hands, and looked up at Mr. Gault. ‘‘I have questions.’’
‘‘Certainly,’’ he replied, smiling down at her.
‘‘How much will I be paid?’’
‘‘Three dollars and twenty-five cents per week. You receive your pay every Friday.’’
‘‘Room and board?’’
Mr. Gault smiled. ‘‘One dollar and twenty-five cents is your share. The balance is paid by the Corporation.’’
‘‘And our hours of work?’’
Mr. Gault carefully explained that the first and final bells tolled at differing times throughout the year, the workday beginning earlier in the summer and later in the winter.
Bella listened and then mentally tabulated what Mr. Gault had told her. ‘‘And so we work approximately seventy-three hours per week?’’
The older man nodded, a look of admiration crossing his face. ‘‘I believe that would be correct. Any other questions?’’
‘‘I’m satisfied,’’ Bella said before dipping the pen into ink and carefully signing her name.
‘‘Should I sign?’’ Daughtie whispered to her friend before dutifully seating herself.
Bella nodded and handed the pen to Daughtie.
‘‘Now that you’ve all signed your contracts, I have but a few comments before sending you off to your boardinghouses. I need to advise you of your choice to begin work in the morning or take the day to rest. If you decide you need a day to recover from your journey, you will owe room and board for the day. You are not paid for any day you do not work. However, you will not be charged for your room and board for the remainder of today.’’
‘‘How very charitable,’’ Sally retorted.
Mr. Gault glanced in her direction. ‘‘You have a quick tongue, Miss Nelson. You would do well to remember that it is best to think before you speak. I believe you’ll find that piece of advice particularly helpful with your overseer in the mill.’’
Turning his attention back to the girls assigned to Hannah Desmond’s boardinghouse, Mr. Gault offered instructions for locating the boardinghouse as well as where they should report the next morning. He escorted the five girls to the door and then returned to the remaining three.
‘‘Any of you girls have previous experience in the mills?’’ he asked, seating himself behind the desk.
‘‘No, sir,’’ Bella and Daughtie replied.
Ruth hesitated a moment before replying. ‘‘I do.’’
‘‘Thank you for your honesty, Miss Wilson. I saw your name in my book. It has a black mark beside it, so I am assuming you left before your contract was completed?’’
‘‘Yes,’’ she replied, her voice barely a whisper.
‘‘The circumstances were beyond her control. Her mother was ill, and she was forced to return home to help her family. Surely you’re not going to hold that against her. I’m sure her overseer would vouch that she was a good worker. Weren’t you, Ruth?’’ Bella questioned.
Mr. Gault grinned and leaned back in his chair. ‘‘I appreciate the argument on behalf of your friend, Miss Newberry. However, I’m sure that she can speak for herself. Miss Wilson?’’
‘‘What Bella said is true. My family needed me and I was required to leave. I worked at the Merrimack in the spinning room and was tending twenty-eight spindles when I was forced to return home. I truly want to work in the mills, and I don’t take my contract lightly. But my family is of great importance to me, also.’’
Mr. Gault looked down at the page, seeming to consider the black mark beside Ruth’s name, then snapped the book shut. ‘‘Again, thank you for your honesty, Miss Wilson. You three girls will be working here at the Appleton operating the weaving looms. You may report directly to your overseer, Mr. Kingman, in the morning. For now, you may present yourselves to Miss Addie at number 5 Jackson Street, which is across the street and down the road a short distance. I’ll escort you out and open the gate. I’m sure that Miss Wilson can find her way to number 5.’’
‘‘Yes, of course,’’ Ruth replied as the trio followed Mr. Gault out the door.
The girls patiently waited as Mr. Gault unlocked the gate and pulled back on the metal bars. ‘‘Good day, ladies. I wish you well as you begin your new positions.’’
The clanking of the iron gates could be heard in the distance as the trio walked across the street, with Bella and Daughtie attempting to gather in the details of their new surroundings.
The rows of sturdy brick boardinghouses lay before them, an occasional flower box sporting a few green sprouts, evidence that summer’s blooms would soon arrive. A mobcapped boardinghouse keeper was busy hanging clothes at one house while at another, the keeper was diligently sweeping her entryway. The scene unfolding before them gave the appearance of warmth and welcome whereas the gated fortress to their rear cast a shadow of detachment and apprehension.
‘‘The mills remind me of prisons that Brother Jerome used to speak of,’’ Daughtie commented, taking one last peek over her shoulder.
Ruth giggled. ‘‘Only because of the gate. They close it five minutes after last bell so that anyone who is late must pass through the counting room. The agent and overseers won’t abide tardiness.’’
Bella looped her arm through Ruth’s and gave her a warm smile. ‘‘The Society believed in punctuality, also. I was pleased that Mr. Gault rewarded your honesty and rehired you, Ruth.’’
A tinge of pink colored Ruth’s cheeks as she nodded in agreement. ‘‘Unfortunately, I wavered for a moment, but I’m glad I gained enough courage to tell the truth. I was fearful Mr. Gault would send me home.’’
‘‘Here we are—number 5,’’ Bella said, pointing to the stenciled address.
A giant white apron covered a matronly woman’s ample figure as she pulled open the front door and gave the girls a beaming smile. ‘‘I’ve been expecting you. Come in, come in! I am Miss Addie, the keeper of this house,’’ she welcomed. ‘‘I bribed the coach driver with a piece of apple pie, and he carried your baggage upstairs. And believe me, until you’ve climbed those stairs, you won’t appreciate his deed,’’ she informed them with a giggle.
She led the trio into a large room and settled herself on the tapestrycovered settee. ‘‘Let’s get acquainted,’’ she offered, patting the cushion beside her. ‘‘I’ll show you the rest of the house if there’s time before the others arrive for dinner.’’
Bella liked the woman’s unrestrained laughter and pleasant countenance. She had an easy way about her. Though Miss Addie’s questions were sometimes prodding, they somehow seemed unobtrusive, for her manner was gentle, and when the conversation became gloomy, she would pepper the discussion with an amusing anecdote to lighten the mood. It was obvious she was attempting to set them at ease—so dissimilar to the welcome that had been extended to Bella’s family when they first arrived at the Shaker community.
That meeting was one she would not soon forget. Inside the Trustees’ Office they had been greeted with prying eyes and pursed lips, and by the end of their meeting, the Elders had leveled looks of displeasure and disgust. Bella wasn’t sure exactly what had caused their displeasure during that interview. In fact, four years later, she still wasn’t certain. Her parents had been honest in their declarations to the Family, had severed all ties to the world, had willingly surrendered their meager belongings, and against her mother’s wishes, had relinquished their parental rights to Bella. Miss Addie’s acceptance today was as welcome as a cool drink on a hot summer day.
‘‘Would you prefer to see the rest of the house or have your tea first?’’ Miss Addie inquired.
The girls quickly agreed they would take the tour first and the tea later if time permitted.
The older woman chuckled. ‘‘I knew that’s what you would choose,’’ she said as she stood up and led them to the stairway. They ascended at Miss Addie’s slow pace, finally reaching the top floor. ‘‘One step short of heaven, that’s how I feel when I finally arrive in this room,’’ Miss Addie said, the words bursting forth in short puffs as she made her way around the girls’ baggage.
The three girls glanced around the room, Bella taking note of the personal belongings atop a small chest and clothing strewn about. ‘‘It would appear this room is already occupied, Miss Addie.’’ Addie carefully lowered herself onto one of the two beds and began rubbing her knees. ‘‘It’s only partially occupied—at least until today. You girls will room with the other three girls already assigned to this room. Three in each bed. You share the chests and what other bit of space you can find available.’’
‘‘I told you the room would be crowded,’’ Ruth said. ‘‘But we won’t spend much time up here.’’
‘‘It looks like someone needs to spend some time up here,’’ Bella replied, retrieving an embroidered glove and satinbordered sash from the floor and placing them on one of the beds. ‘‘It’s obvious your boarders aren’t particularly interested in tidiness.’’
‘‘They’re up early and busy until bedtime. I fear tidiness isn’t their top priority. They’d rather spend their free time at a lecture or visit in the parlor. Not that I blame them, of course.’’
‘‘You launder the bedding, and we wash our own clothing. Isn’t that correct?’’ Ruth asked.
Addie nodded. ‘‘Right as rain,’’ she said with a smile. ‘‘I clean the downstairs, but you girls are responsible for your rooms. Some are neat and clean while others are rather . . . shall we say, unkempt?’’
After one bump on her head, Bella moved about the room more carefully, examining what little space wasn’t occupied. ‘‘And there are no other rooms available?’’
Addie shook her head. ‘‘You’re taller than most of the girls, and I know these sloping walls and low ceiling will be difficult, but this is the best I can offer for now. You will have an opportunity to move downstairs when a space becomes available; however, you’ll have to wait your turn. First ones here have priority in choosing if they want to move to another room. Since this is pretty much the worst of it, they almost always want to move,’’ she said while checking the timepiece pinned to her dress. ‘‘Goodness, look at the time! The girls will soon be home. You get settled; I’ll go down to the kitchen.’’
Bella met Daughtie’s look of alarm with a waning smile. ‘‘We can make this better. We’ll put pegs on the wall to hold our clothes, and if we move those chests over here,’’ she said, pointing across the room, ‘‘it will provide additional space. This bed can be moved against the wall.’’
Ruth bobbed her head in agreement. ‘‘We had ten girls in the room at my former boardinghouse.’’
Bella glanced at Daughtie. A tear trickled down her friend’s cheek. ‘‘We’re going to be fine, Daughtie. I promise.’’
Now Bella prayed that God would provide her with the capability to keep that promise.
Clad in a dove-gray cutaway and matching cravat, Kirk Boott stood in the foyer of his large frame home awaiting the arrival of his guests, members of the Boston Associates and the key employees of the corporate operation in Lowell.
Matthew Cheever placed his hat and gloves upon a receiving table as was the routine, then turned to greet his employer. ‘‘Good day to you, sir.’’ Matthew knew that as far as Boott was concerned, it would be the very best of days.
These semiannual meetings were a source of pleasure to Kirk. He enjoyed receiving the accolades bestowed upon him by the members of the Corporation. The bursts of applause that occasionally interrupted his reports of progress at these meetings were almost as important to Kirk as the tidy sum he was paid to oversee the paternalistic community created with the Associates’ money. As general agent for the Corporation, Kirk continued to receive the complete support of the Associates—except for one or two recalcitrant men who harbored ill will toward him.
Kirk grasped Matthew Cheever’s hand. ‘‘Glad you arrived early, Matthew. I’m depending on you to assist me during this meeting. I’ll remain at the door. You see to their comfort once they enter the sitting room.’’