Daughter of the Loom (Bells of Lowell Book #1) (22 page)

Matthew glanced down at her. His gaze was piercing. “Lilly, it’s time you stop lying to yourself and to me.”

“Really? Is that what you suggest?” She smiled sweetly, lifted her foot, and stomped down on Matthew’s foot as hard as she could. “Consider that a token of my love, Matthew,” she said as he groaned and lifted his foot slowly.

“
There
you are, Matthew. I have a young lady here who’s anxious to dance with you,” Kirk Boott said as he and Isabelle walked onto the dance floor. “Good evening, Miss Armbruster,” he added.

Lilly nodded at Kirk and Isabelle. “I’m sure Matthew will be delighted to dance with you, Isabelle. He seems to be in fine form tonight. Aren’t you, Matthew?” Without waiting for an answer, she rushed from the dance floor.

Chapter 17

Matthew fussed with his shirt collar, wondering if he would ever feel comfortable when Kirk Boott summoned him. He had no reason to be concerned—at least no reason of which he was aware. Yet the delivery of Kirk’s engraved stationery emblazoned with his handwritten scrawl filled Matthew with trepidation.
Come to my office now. Boott
. Minimal phraseology was all that Boott needed to bring any employee running, but most especially one who aspired to become a member of the elite Associates.

Ten minutes later, Matthew knocked on the door of Boott’s office. “What kept you?” Boott inquired without looking up from the paper work scattered across his desk. Glancing up, he emitted a loud guffaw. “You needn’t look terrified, Matthew. It was my feeble attempt at humor.” Kirk pointed toward one of the chairs sitting opposite his desk. “Do be seated, my boy. Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, nothing. How can I be of assistance?”

Kirk leaned back in his chair and propped his lanky legs across the desk. “Isabelle tells me she thoroughly enjoyed spending time with you at the Lighting Up Ball. I believe she was hoping you would extend an invitation for dinner or perhaps the theatre in the near future. Since it’s been nearly a month since the ball, I thought I would inquire as to the problem.”

Matthew squirmed in the chair, wondering if Isabelle’s social calendar was the sole purpose Boott had summoned him. “The distance between Boston and Lowell makes it difficult for me to keep company with your niece and stay abreast of my duties for the Corporation. However, I’m pleased to hear she enjoyed the ball,” Matthew hedged.

“Isabelle speculated that you might be interested in the Armbruster girl. I’m certain Isabelle has drawn that conclusion based upon seeing you in Miss Armbruster’s company each time she has visited Lowell. I told my niece it was mere happenstance.” Kirk’s forehead furrowed into deep creases as he lifted his eyebrows and looked at Matthew. “I know you’ll be pleased to hear that my sister and Isabelle will be visiting next weekend. I was hoping you could join us for dinner on Saturday evening, shall we say around seven o’clock?”

Matthew longed for the courage to tell Boott he wouldn’t be available. Instead, he nodded his agreement. “Was that all you wished to discuss?”

Kirk rose from his chair and moved toward the window looking out on his gardens at the back of the house. “No, no, of course not. There are several matters that need our attention. Did you have an opportunity to investigate the accidents at the Appleton?”

Kirk continued staring out the window with his back toward Matthew. “Yes, and I believe your assessment was correct. After spending some time talking with Mr. Arnold, he agreed that he may have overreacted to the incidents. As you know, he’s new to his position and is anxious to make a good impression.”

“That’s not a bad thing—wanting to impress me. Wouldn’t you agree?” Kirk inquired, turning the unwavering gaze of his steel-blue eyes on Matthew.

They both knew there was only one acceptable answer to Kirk’s question. Matthew hedged momentarily, not certain where Kirk was headed. “I would agree as long as it doesn’t compromise one’s personal beliefs,” he finally replied.

A wry grin wrapped itself around Kirk’s lips. “Not willing to sell your soul for a position with the Associates? Is that what you’re telling me, Matthew?”

“Is that what the Associates require?” Matthew questioned in return.

Kirk ran his hand across the stubble of his jaw. “Let us hope not, for I fear you would fail to meet the prerequisites, my boy,” he said, his voice laced with a hint of sarcasm. “I’ve asked Hugh Cummiskey to join us. He should be arriving momentarily. The Associates agree we should begin working out the arrangements we’ve made with Bishop Fenwick. Cummiskey is our starting point. I’ve decided to assign this project to you since you were instrumental in presenting the church as a solution to the increasing Irish problem.”

Leaning back in his chair, Matthew considered the consequences of Boott’s assignment. If the project were a failure and the Irish continued with their infighting, Matthew would be held accountable. He wondered, however, if the project proved successful, who would receive the accolades. A knock sounded at the front door. Moments later a mobcapped servant escorted Hugh Cummiskey into Boott’s office.

“Hugh, good to see you. You remember Matthew Cheever, don’t you?”

“Afternoon, gentlemen.” The burly Irishman nodded at both men as he made his way into the room. Pulling a flattened cap from his head, he ran broad fingers through a mass of disheveled black curls before seating himself beside Matthew.

“I know you’re busy with the canal, Hugh, but I think I have some interesting information for you,” Kirk began. Over the next hour, he laid out the Associates’ decision to bring a priest to Lowell on a somewhat regular basis and commence building a Catholic church. “You don’t appear overly pleased,” Kirk said as he completed his explanation.

Hugh leaned forward and rested his brawny arms atop the highly polished desk. “Oh, I’m pleased by the idea of having a church for the men and their families, but here’s my concern—where are you gonna put it? We’re already divided. I fear a church in one camp or the other will only add to the turmoil.”

Kirk gave him a knowing smile and nodded. “We suspected the division of the clans could be problematic. Matthew made a suggestion that appears to have some merit with Bishop Fenwick as well as the Associates.”

“What’s that?” Hugh inquired.

Kirk pointed to Matthew, and Hugh immediately turned his attention toward the younger man.

“If we build the church directly between the camps, it could serve as a point of unity,” Matthew explained. “There’s a parcel of land the Associates have agreed they will deed to the Catholic diocese for that purpose. The agreement, however, is hinged upon a labor force consisting of your fellow Irishmen. While the land and materials will be furnished at no cost, labor would be the responsibility of the men living in the camps. We’re insisting upon your men supplying the labor for several reasons. One, the cost of the project would be prohibitive from the Associates’ point of view if they were required to furnish labor; second, working together on a joint project could aid in bringing the Irish community together; and third, your men are skilled laborers, as well as being the ones who will benefit from the structure.” Matthew turned toward Boott for affirmation, but Kirk’s gaze was riveted on Hugh Cummiskey.

“What do you think, Hugh?” Kirk asked.

“Quite an undertaking for my men. They’d have to do the work on their off hours, and we both know they don’t have many of those—leastwise not during daylight or good weather. These men have got families to feed, and whether those mouths are in Lowell or Boston or Ireland, their families look to them for provision. Don’t get me wrong—I think the idea of a church is a good one, but how do I ask them to give up their wages and donate time to build a church?”

“
You
don’t. We’ll designate that privilege to good Bishop Fenwick. I’ll make arrangements to have the bishop come and speak a week from Sunday if he’s available. I doubt he’ll have difficulty convincing the men that it’s a privilege rather than a sacrifice to give their time.”

Hugh gave a low laugh. “I don’t know if I’d go quite that far, but the bishop’s influence will go further than mine.”

Kirk rose from behind the desk. “I’ve assigned Matthew to oversee this matter. In fact, I may send him to Boston to talk with the bishop. I’m sure he could find time to make at least one other call while he’s in the city.” Kirk cast a sidelong glance at Matthew. “What do you think, Matthew? Are you up to a trip to Boston in the next few days? It will give you an opportunity to set Isabelle’s concerns to rest.”

Matthew was pleased at the prospect of visiting the bishop on his own. The fact that Kirk considered him capable of conducting a high-level meeting without accompaniment was flattering.
If
it was his ability Kirk truly believed in. Kirk’s caveat that he pay Isabelle a visit gave him pause to wonder. “I’ll leave in the morning,” Matthew agreed.

“Why don’t we walk over to the Acre and take a look about,” Kirk suggested as he moved around the desk. Matthew and Hugh rose in unison. There was no doubt in either of their minds that if Kirk wanted to visit the Acre, they would visit the Acre.

Cummiskey’s Irish brogue filled the air as the three men made their way to the acre or more of land that contained a ramshackle collection of board, tin, and sod cabins and shanties. The pungent smell of cooking cabbage and potatoes mingled with the odor of human bodies permeating the air. Kirk pulled a crisp, neatly folded handkerchief from his pocket and placed it to his nose.

Cummiskey grinned. “Smell of cabbage bother ya?”

Kirk immediately tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket and gave a strained laugh. “Let’s say that cabbage is not among my favorite foods. Now, this camp is primarily Corkonians from the southwest of Ireland, and they occupy the original acre. The Connachts, from west-central Ireland, are on the other piece of land, the half-acre site. Is that correct?” he inquired, smoothly changing the topic of conversation.

Matthew was impressed with Boott’s knowledge of the camps. Perhaps Kirk hadn’t taken time to visit the squatted land in some time, but he had certainly secured enough information to be well versed in a discussion of the area with Cummiskey.

Cummiskey nodded. “Of course, in Ireland the clans are much more divided. Fortunately we’ve divided into only two factions in Lowell. Which works in your favor, my friend. You’ve only two clans to pull together instead of hundreds.” His dark eyes sparkled with merriment. “It’s a grown man’s job you’ll have attempting to pull these men together.”

“Well, I have you and Bishop Fenwick to aid me in that regard,” Boott countered, his laughter matching Cummiskey’s.

A natural-born builder, Hugh began measuring the area, obviously beginning to picture the edifice and its placement on the piece of land Kirk had shown him. “Are you planning on using slate like at St. Anne’s?” Hugh inquired, the sparkle still in his eye.

“If we have a stockpile of slate, we may decide to do that, Hugh. I was planning on a Gothic style, with a tall central tower topped by a gilded cross. Smaller spires surrounding the central tower would be visually pleasing, don’t you think, Matthew?”

Matthew had been following along behind Hugh and now came into a circle with the other two men. “Yes, Gothic for a church is quite beautiful,” he replied. “You may want to consider . . .”

His words died away as a woman’s shouts echoed down the muddy street, causing the three men to look toward a tin-roofed hovel. Matthew strained to see the man who was rushing away from the shanty. Had the fellow not looked so out of place among the filth and poverty, Matthew wouldn’t have been intrigued. Squinting against the sun, Matthew stared at the male figure wearing an expensive-looking coat. The man turned, glanced over his shoulder, and headed off down a side street. A shock ran through Matthew. William Thurston!

“You were saying, Matthew?” Kirk inquired, pulling him back to the present.

Matthew rubbed his forehead. “What? Oh yes, I was saying you might want to consider small spires at each corner of the building to give it a sense of balance.”

“Yes, I like that idea. What about you, Cummiskey? Think a spired church building, say about forty feet by seventy, would improve the appearance of the Acre?”

“It certainly can’t hurt it,” Cummiskey replied. “Just having Matthew convince the bishop to get a priest to Lowell on a regular visiting schedule would be helpful.”

“I’m sure Matthew will be successful in his visit with the bishop, Hugh. In the meantime, let’s not discuss this project among the people. Don’t want to get their hopes built up too high and then have something go amiss.”

Cummiskey nodded his agreement. “If we’re through here, I think it best if I head back to work. Not that my men can’t handle the job without me.” Once again he filled the air with his rowdy laughter.

The bulky Irishman waved his arm high in the air as he sauntered off toward the canal. Kirk and Matthew waved in return and then moved off in the opposite direction. The two men walked along in silence for a short distance. Finally Matthew could stand it no longer. “That was William Thurston back there.”

“Yes, it was,” Kirk replied.

“Is that all you have to say? Don’t you find it strange that he would be in the Acre after hearing his disparaging remarks at the Appletons’ dinner party?”

Kirk shook his head. “Yes, but I also remember William didn’t hide the fact that he spends time in the Acre. In fact, I wondered at the time if he wasn’t anticipating just such a circumstance as this. He didn’t want questions raised if he were to be seen around the Paddy camps.”

“Didn’t you hear what that woman shouted?”

“There are some things that should be forgotten, Matthew. This is one of them.”

****

Lilly smiled as she entered the kitchen. Addie was bustling about the warm kitchen, her cheeks flushed a bright pink as she placed the last of the supper dishes on a shelf along the wall. A wisp of her graying hair had escaped and was now firmly clinging to her perspiring forehead. She appeared startled when she finally noticed Lilly. “Am I late? I was trying to hurry,” she apologized.