Daughter of the Loom (Bells of Lowell Book #1) (23 page)

“We have ample time. Please don’t hurry so. In fact, why don’t you go to your room and get your hat. I’ll finish up in here. It’s not as though I don’t know where these pots and pans belong.” The older woman hesitated a moment. “Go on,” Lilly encouraged. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to help.”

“You’re a sweetheart, Lilly Armbruster,” Addie called over her shoulder as she rushed from the kitchen, leaving Lilly to complete her few remaining chores.

In no time at all, the two of them were sauntering outside in the cool, moonlit evening. Lilly was bone tired, but she had promised Addie she would go shopping with her. Besides, being with Addie was a joy, for her easy laughter and kind ways never failed to touch Lilly’s heart and refresh her spirit. This evening, she was sure, would be no different. She would come home feeling more invigorated than when she left.

“Evening, Mrs. Arnold,” Addie called out in her ever-cheerful voice. “Are you out enjoying this fine weather? If you’re walking into town, you’re welcome to join us.”

Mrs. Arnold glanced in their direction as they approached where she stood with an empty basket hanging from her arm. “No, I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going this evening,” she said, raising her head a bit as she spoke. Quickly she turned and rushed back into the house.

“Strange woman, that Mrs. Arnold. Looked like her face was dirty,” Addie remarked. “And why would she go to the trouble of donning her shawl and basket without going to do her shopping? She’s a rather unfriendly woman, although I’ve tried to be neighborly in the little time I have for visiting.”

“It wasn’t dirt on her face, Miss Addie. And she went back in the house because she didn’t want us to see she’s got bruises all over herself. Her husband beats her.”

A look of horror spread across Miss Addie’s face. “Oh, child, such terrible accusations you’re making. Where would you get such a notion?”

As they continued into town, Lilly explained in detail the first night she’d heard the screams from next door. “Nadene and I made a pact. Whenever either one of us hears Mrs. Arnold screaming, we beat on the wall. He knows that we hear him, and he stops. He still hasn’t stopped completely, but at least it doesn’t happen
every
night anymore.”

“Have you told anyone else? Someone in authority that could possibly help the poor woman?”

Lilly’s look of disgust was all the answer Addie needed. “To whom would we go, Miss Addie? Who would listen to us? Nadene can’t afford to lose her job.”

“Nor can you, my dear,” Miss Addie replied as the two of them walked into Markham’s General Store, which like the other shops in Lowell, extended shopping hours into the evening to accommodate the full schedules of the mill girls.

“Women are the property of the men they marry,” Lilly said softly. “Sometimes a woman marries well, and sometimes she doesn’t. Beatings come along with those poorer matches.”

“My, but you’re cynical for one so young.”

“Maybe,” Lilly replied, “but I speak the truth and you know it. Mrs. Arnold would be at a loss without her husband, and he clearly abuses her.”

“Still, it seems there should be someone who would care, doesn’t it?”

Nodding her agreement, Lilly led the way as the two women made their way down the center of the store.

“Now, there’s a sight to make a man’s eyes sparkle.”

Lilly and Addie turned to see John Farnsworth standing behind them. “Good evening, ladies. Out for a bit of shopping and fresh air on this lovely evening?”

“Indeed we are, Mr. Farnsworth,” Addie replied with an infectious smile. “And what might you be looking for this evening?”

“Nothing in particular. I just felt the urge to walk into town and get a bit of fresh air. Now I know why. It was to escort you two lovely ladies for a slice of cake and a cup of tea over at Clawson’s.”

“Why don’t the two of you go ahead and have dessert,” Lilly suggested, but Addie’s look of dismay quickly caused her to reconsider. “On second thought, a cup of tea sounds wonderful.” If Miss Addie didn’t mind returning to town tomorrow to complete her shopping, why should she object to sitting in the quiet of Clawson’s Tea and Pastry Shop? Besides, both Addie and Farnsworth wore expressions of delight.

Mrs. Clawson seated them at a small table near the rear of the shop, where Farnsworth regaled them with tales of the English countryside. He had just begun to tell Addie of his father’s debilitating illness when Mrs. Clawson delivered three slices of buttery pound cake covered with a rich, smooth lemon sauce. She placed a sturdy glazed teapot in the center of the table and then surrounded it with china cups and saucers. “Enjoy your cake and tea,” she encouraged. Smiling, she hastened off as the small bell over the front door chimed.

Farnsworth extended his arm and waved. “Mind if I join you?” Matthew Cheever inquired as he approached their table.

“Sit down, sit down,” Farnsworth encouraged amicably. “I’ll have Mrs. Clawson deliver another cup. Would you like a slice of cake?”

Matthew seated himself between John and Lilly. “Are you enjoying your cake, Lilly?” he asked.

“It’s very good. Thank you,” she replied, keeping her tone formal and uninviting.

“On Miss Armbruster’s recommendation, I believe I’ll have to try some,” Matthew replied, giving Lilly a grin. Farnsworth signaled Mrs. Clawson, who quickly brought another serving of cake along with a cup and saucer.

When Lilly wouldn’t banter with him, Matthew turned his attention to Farnsworth and attempted to engage him in a business discussion. Lilly gave Matthew a triumphant grin when John appeared uninterested and turned his attention back toward Addie. “I don’t think Mr. Farnsworth finds you particularly interesting this evening,” Lilly whispered.

“Then perhaps
you’d
be willing to talk to me,” he suggested. “Consider it a gesture of goodwill toward Miss Addie.”

Lilly took a sip of tea. “As long as I may choose what we talk about,” she said, waiting until Matthew nodded his agreement.

“What delightful thing would you like to speak of?” he questioned. Cutting into his cake, Matthew took a bite and smiled. “This is good but not quite as good as the treats you used to serve me.”

Lilly stiffened and murmured, “I wonder if you could tell me what the good Boston Associates think of men who beat their wives.”

Matthew stared at her in obvious disbelief. He took a long sip of tea then eyed her as if to regard how serious she was about the matter. “This is ridiculous, Lilly. What are you talking about?” His voice held an edge that conveyed she was speaking nonsense.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Matthew Cheever. You know me too well to believe I’d lie about such a thing. There is nothing ridiculous about Thaddeus Arnold beating his wife until she’s black and blue.” She shook her head as hideous images came to mind. “Poor woman. I’m regularly awakened by her screams begging him to stop. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve finished my tea and cake. I believe I’ll walk home.”

Matthew looked to where John and Addie sat engrossed in their conversation. Turning back to Lilly, he pressed close and whispered, “Surely you realize we’d need proof of such allegations. You can’t just make unfounded accusations.”

Lilly tolerated his nearness in order to continue her discussion. “I’ve seen her bruises, and so has Miss Addie. She avoids all contact with other people—a prisoner in her own home—no doubt to keep anyone from asking questions. She’s likely suffering unimaginable horrors. I doubt Mr. Arnold is going to come forward and admit to his despicable behavior.” Lilly pulled away from him and got to her feet.

“Just a moment, Lilly,” Addie said. “John and I are leaving, also.”

John pushed himself away from the table and then assisted Addie. “I asked Addie’s permission to escort you ladies back home, and she has graciously agreed,” Mr. Farnsworth said.

“I was hoping to have a bit of time to discuss a couple of matters, John,” Matthew said, rising from his chair. “I’m sure the ladies would excuse you.”

John gave Matthew a look of obvious disbelief. “This may come as a surprise to you, Matthew, but I much prefer the company of these ladies to yours.” Miss Addie gave a nervous giggle while Lilly leveled a smug look in Matthew’s direction. “You’re welcome to join us, however.”

“It appears I’ll be required to do so if I’m going to have any time with you,” Matthew conceded as the group walked out the door. “I suppose I can force myself to remain in Lilly’s company a bit longer,” he said as he and Lilly walked ahead of the older couple.

Lilly glared at him. “I imagine you will have to force yourself since it appears you can’t stand to hear the truth about your employees. I’m sure you’d be much more comfortable with Isabelle and her fawning behavior.”

Matthew looked rather surprised. “You’re jealous, Lilly. You see, you do still care,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

Lilly felt a momentary rush of embarrassment as his words hit home. She pushed her feelings aside and kept walking. “This has nothing to do with Isabelle; it has to do with Mrs. Arnold,” Lilly retaliated.

“If it will make you feel better, I promise I’ll check into Mr. Arnold’s behavior.”

“Will you truly?” She looked back to ascertain his sincerity.

Matthew’s expression revealed his concern. “Lilly, you know how I feel about such matters. I could never abide a man hitting his wife. I promise I’ll check into it.”

Lilly nodded. “It’s just that she’s . . . she’s . . . all alone.” The words were as much a reflection of her own heart as they were concern for Mrs. Arnold. “If we don’t come to her aid, who will?”

“I understand, Lilly,” Matthew said softly. For a moment their gazes were fixed on each other.

They continued to walk, but their steps were slowed considerably. Matthew held tightly to her arm and added, “Lilly, why are you jealous of Isabelle?”

For a moment Lilly thought of sharing her heart. She opened her mouth to speak but fell short when Addie called out, the spell broken. She pulled away.

“You appear to be limping, Mr. Cheever. Did you hurt your foot?”

Matthew stopped, allowing the older couple to move alongside them. “As a matter of fact, I did—at the Lighting Up Ball. A clumsy dancer stepped on my foot and bruised it rather badly. But I’m sure it will heal.”

“And it’s still sore after all this time? That must have been painful. I’m so sorry,” Addie replied, a look of genuine concern on her face. “You should try using a cane. It would help take the weight off your injured foot. The Judge used a cane most of the time—gout, you know. He said it helped immensely,” she continued in a motherly tone.

“Thank you for your concern, Miss Addie,” Matthew said as the older couple moved ahead of them. Pulling Lilly close, Matthew bent down to whisper in her ear. “You can’t deny your feelings forever. I know you care about me.”

Lilly didn’t want to make a scene in Miss Addie’s presence, but neither did she want to give Matthew the upper hand. Turning to speak to him, however, she found his lips only inches away from her own. Unnerved by his nearness, she forced herself to speak. “You’d best watch yourself, Matthew Cheever, or that same clumsy dancer may step on your other foot, and I doubt a cane will do you much good then!”

Chapter 18

Autumn leaves crunched beneath his feet as William Thurston walked down Merrimack Street. Bending his head against a brisk gust of wind, he pulled a watch from his pocket and then quickened his pace. He certainly didn’t want Lewis Armbruster standing around the Acre waiting for him. Worse yet, he didn’t want Lewis, a much younger man with an insatiable appetite for women, spending time with Kathryn O’Hanrahan. She’d sell her soul for a crust of bread. In William’s mind, that was true of all the Irish; they had no morals, no interest in rising above their circumstances. Instead of working to remove themselves from their plight, they banded together and reveled in their misery. Why he couldn’t get Boott and the other Associates to see the Irish for what they truly were was beyond him. The Irish, with their dirty ways and constant brawling, were going to eventually ruin all that was good and pure in Lowell.

William spied Lewis coming from the opposite direction down Adams Street and breathed a sigh of relief. “Hello, Lewis,” William said as they drew closer together. Lewis nodded in greeting and matched William’s stride as the two of them walked through the mud and muck that filled the crooked paths leading into the Acre. Without knocking, William led the way into one of the hovels.

A young woman with auburn curls and a creamy white complexion sat before the waning fire. She was wrapped in a blanket, a young child asleep on her lap. “I don’t like meeting in this place,” Lewis whispered as Thurston walked deeper inside the room.

William turned, gave him a look of disgust, and pointed toward the only chair in the room. “Sit down. We agreed our meetings needed to be in a place where we wouldn’t be seen together, and we have that safety here. Don’t we, Kathryn?” The woman nodded her head but said nothing. “Take him and go outside. We won’t be long,” Thurston ordered.

“The boy isn’t feeling well. ’Tis cold and damp outdoors.” There was a pleading in her voice as she looked into William’s steely eyes.

He despised the way she was always attempting to manipulate him. “Do as I say, Kathryn,” he said from between clenched teeth. He glared down at her until she finally lifted the sleeping child into her arms and carried him out of the shack. When she had finally cleared the doorway, William turned to Lewis. “There have been six accidents at the Merrimack and ten at the Appleton in the last month. Why isn’t Boott alarmed? Have you been getting word out that the Irish are to blame for these incidents? Because if you have, Lewis, I certainly haven’t heard the rumors. What am I paying you for?”

“No need to take your personal problems out on me, Thurston,” Lewis replied as he looked toward the doorway. “As for why Boott isn’t concerned about the Irish, you’d need to ask him yourself. I’m afraid I don’t have access to Boott or any of your other powerful friends, for that matter. I’ve done what you requested, but you need to remember that the Irish couldn’t possibly have caused some of those incidents. The people of Lowell are not stupid. I’m not going to spread rumors that are unbelievable. I’ve made accusations against the Irish when there was a possibility they could have been involved, but people haven’t put much stock in the idea.”