Daughter of the Loom (Bells of Lowell Book #1) (5 page)

“But they’ll not count themselves among the lords of the spade. Not that I blame them, of course,” Boott concluded. “The infighting . . . now, that could present a challenge. The Irish have always been a factious sort—my years in England taught me that much. If they want to survive, they need to outgrow that clan mentality they’ve brought with them.”

Both men remained silent as the coach continued to lumber through the countryside, swaying both of them back and forth—unmercifully at times. Matthew would have much preferred Nathan Appleton’s offer that they remain in Boston for the night and depart the next morning. Boott, however, had adamantly refused, obviously convinced the mills and newborn community could not survive without him. Although Boott verbalized trust in his managers’ judgment, Matthew knew that he never gave them the opportunity to exercise much authority.

Finally Boott broke the silence. “John Farnsworth will be arriving from England within the week. Of course, I’ll be meeting with him upon his arrival, but I would like for you to be present also. In the meantime, make arrangements for him at one of the better boardinghouses. I’m sure he’ll expect a house to himself, but we can negotiate that after his arrival.”

“Farnsworth. He’s the expert you hired for calico printing, isn’t he?”

Boott nodded his head, a wry smile crossing his lips. “Quite a negotiator. Did I tell you about my meeting with him in England?”

Matthew leaned forward, his eyes alight with interest. “No, I don’t believe so.”

“When we first discussed the possibility of calicos, Francis—Mr. Lowell—mentioned the talented artisan he had met when he toured the mills in England. Said the man was one of the most brilliant craftsmen he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. When we ran into difficulty producing our calicos, the Associates agreed that I should attempt to locate Farnsworth.”

“And he was obviously willing to leave England.”

“After a bit of dickering about his wage. When I asked what wage he would require, he told me five thousand dollars a year.”

Matthew’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t believe his own ears. “He was joking, of course.”

“I’m afraid not. When I told him that was more than we paid the governor of Massachusetts, he replied, ‘Well, can the governor of Massachusetts print?’ I had to tell him the governor could not and that I needed him more than I needed the governor.”

“The Associates agreed to a salary of five thousand dollars? That’s difficult to believe.”

Kirk reached for the small cushion he carried with him whenever he traveled. “It’s bad enough that my back gives me problems when I sit in a comfortable chair, but riding in these coaches is going to be the total ruination of my spine,” he stated, pushing the support behind his back and settling farther into the seat. “Where was I? Oh yes, discussing the merits of John Farnsworth’s wages. ’Tis true the man will be paid more than any of us, and that was a difficult pill to swallow—harder for some than others. However, we came to the conclusion that he will be worth that figure ten times over once the Merrimack is producing quality prints.”

“I don’t doubt you’ve made a sound decision.”

“There isn’t a man among the Associates who would doubt the validity of the man’s worth. After all, if there was anything that Francis Cabot Lowell knew, it was the looms and textiles.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t have the opportunity to meet Mr. Lowell before his death.”

Kirk stared out the coach window for several minutes, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Matthew had settled back, the motion of the coach beginning to lull his senses, when suddenly Kirk leaned forward, slapped Matthew on the knee, and issued a challenge. “Well, my young friend, if you were the agent in charge of this project, how would you reconcile the problem of the Irish? Would you remove them from the land? Order them to quit their fighting or suffer the consequences?”

Matthew cleared his throat. “I would work through their religion. As Mr. Appleton pointed out earlier this evening, they’re all papists. No one has more influence over the Irish than a Catholic priest. If you could somehow manage to have a priest assigned to them, it could help. Many of the men now have their families with them. A strong religious leader could keep the men in line and possibly alleviate the feuding.”

“I
knew
you were bright. I believe you have an idea worth exploring. I’m personally acquainted with Bishop Fenwick. I believe I’ll send an invitation for him to visit in the near future—or perhaps I should travel to Boston and pay him a visit myself. Excellent idea, excellent.”

Matthew basked in the adulation for only a moment before Boott fired another question in his direction. “Is there anything else you learned this evening that we haven’t discussed?”

Matthew thought of a great many things he’d tucked away for future reference. He had no desire to share them with his employer just yet, but of utmost importance was the earning of Boott’s trust. Not only that, but Matthew hoped that by cultivating their working relationship with sound judgment and positive initiative, Boott would soon come to see him as an invaluable asset.

“Well, it did appear there is a hierarchy among the stockholders, but I wasn’t certain. I thought perhaps there was deference shown due to those men holding more stock.” Boott nodded and motioned for him to continue. “I learned it’s imperative to cultivate influential friends.”

“Absolutely!” Boott exclaimed, slapping Matthew on the leg. “Think about the fact that there is no single member of the Boston Associates who was powerful enough to influence Congress, but several of us doggedly pursued our friendship with Daniel Webster. It has reaped a multitude of benefits. You must keep this lesson in the forefront of your mind, both in your business
and
personal life. If you do, you’ll go far, my boy. A wife must be chosen with no less intelligence and cunning than one chooses a lawyer or business partner.”

Matthew grinned. “I would imagine that to be true enough, but I never have cared for the way my lawyer wears his hair or fashions.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Boott said, sobering. “Just remember that. Things are not always what they appear to be, and this is especially true when dealing with people.”

Chapter 3

Lowell, Massachusetts

Lilly trudged up the narrow stairway and made her way down the hall. Her back ached, and she longed for quiet and the comfort of a good night’s sleep. Carefully, she turned the doorknob, fearful she might awaken the other girls with her late arrival to the room.

“Welcome to our humble abode,” the girl known as Marmi greeted in a none-too-quiet manner. Six girls sat gathered together on one bed.

“Shhh!” Prudence Holtmeyer warned. “Keep your voice down, Marmi.”

“Sorry, I always forget,” she replied. “Lilly, in case you haven’t met everyone, this is Katie, Sarah, Beth, and Franny. Nadene’s asleep, but I think you met her earlier.”

Lilly smiled as she closed the bedroom door. “Thank you for the welcome,” she said in a low voice. “I thought you would all be asleep by now. I was afraid I’d awaken you coming in this late.”

“Not us—we always stay up late chatting, except for Nadene,” Katie replied.

“She’s the early-to-bed girl. You needn’t worry about waking her. She falls into bed after supper, and nothing seems to interrupt her sleep,” Franny added.

“We rearranged your things closer to your bed,” Prudence said. “Hope you don’t mind, but we thought it would make it easier for you when you’re getting ready for work in the morning. You won’t have to crawl across the bed to get to your clothes.”

“Thank you again,” Lilly replied. She had half expected the girls to act aloof since she really wasn’t one of them, at least not yet. Apparently they weren’t given to drawing class distinctions among themselves.

Marmi bounced across the bed. “There I went and made all the introductions, and we haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Margaret Mildred Tharp, but everyone calls me Marmi. I know you met Prudence earlier at supper.”

She pointed toward the figure cocooned in a log-cabin patterned quilt. “Nadene is from Vermont. Prudence and I hail from New Hampshire, and the others are from around the state. Whereabouts do you come from?”

“I suppose if we’re making proper introductions, I should say that my name is Lilly Armbruster, and I’m from right here, East Chelmsford—that would be Lowell to you.”

Prudence raised her eyebrows ever so slightly. “The girls that hail from Lowell usually live at home.”

“It saves them the cost of room and board,” Beth threw in as if Lilly couldn’t discern that for herself.

“Why did you decide to live in a boardinghouse?” Prudence questioned.

Marmi glanced toward Prudence and shook her head. “You don’t have to answer any of our questions you don’t want to. We all tend to be a bit inquisitive.”

“Nosey’s more like it.” The cocoon had spoken. All the girls turned to peer at the multicolored quilt. A tangle of copper-colored hair appeared, followed by two light blue eyes and the palest complexion Lilly had ever seen. “They’ll be asking you questions until sunrise if you don’t put a stop to them early on,” Nadene said, nodding her unkempt curls toward the ensemble. “I’m Nadene Eckhoff. We’re to share a bed.”

Lilly smiled. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“What are you doing awake, Nadene? You usually sleep through no matter how noisy we get—and we’re talking quietly tonight,” Prudence quickly added.

Nadene slipped her legs over the side of the bed and pulled on a thin cotton wrapper while shoving her feet into a pair of broken-down work shoes. “Need to go to the outhouse,” she answered.

“Want me to go with you?” Marmi offered.

Nadene shook her head. “It’s you that’s afraid of the dark, Marmi, not me. But thank you anyway.” The girls stared after Nadene as she trudged out the door carrying a flickering candle.

“She has beautiful hair—and her skin, it’s so pale it’s almost translucent,” Lilly whispered.

Prudence nodded. “She’s sickly, that’s why. No matter how much sleep she gets, she’s always tired—and pale,” she added.

“Maybe it’s just her natural coloring,” Lilly offered.

“No. One of the other girls who came at the same time as Nadene told me Nadene had color in her cheeks and was healthy looking when she first arrived at the mills. I think she’s gotten worse since they transferred her over to the Appleton. She used to work at the Merrimack, but when they opened the Appleton, they took some of the most experienced girls and moved them over there to teach the new hires. Nobody can match Nadene when it comes to spinning, so it didn’t take long for the supervisors to decide she should become an instructor at the Appleton. They’re working her too hard,” Prudence explained.

Marmi nodded in agreement. “That’s probably true enough, Pru, but Nadene doesn’t take care of herself, either.”

Franny added, “She doesn’t keep herself warm enough in winter and won’t even go see the doctor when she needs to.”

“She doesn’t keep enough of her money to pay for a doctor visit,” Beth declared. “She sends it to her family.”

Sarah, the quietest of the group, shook her head. “I think it’s nice she sends her pay home to help her family, but she carries it too far, never willing to use any of her wages to care for herself.”

“Her money, her choice,” Prudence replied.

Footsteps quietly echoed on the stairs and Marmi put a finger to her lips. “Talk about something else,” she whispered.

“You never answered my question about why you’re living in the boardinghouse,” Prudence remarked, turning back toward Lilly. All the girls seemed to await her answer in great interest.

“My parents are both deceased. We lost our farm when the Associates decided to make East Chelmsford the site of their industrial community.”

Nadene turned sideways as she wove her way through the narrow aisle between the beds and dropped onto the lumpy mattress. “You never give up with your questions, do you? Now look what you’ve done—you’ve caused Lilly to dredge up sad memories. Now she’ll never get to sleep,” Nadene scolded, pointing toward the gloomy expression etched upon Lilly’s face.

The girls glanced in Lilly’s direction. “We’re sorry,” they chorused in unison.

“And don’t you tell them it’s all right, Lilly, or they’ll just keep on with their unending questions until they’ve learned and repeated every detail of your life,” Nadene interjected.

The girls giggled. “She’s right. We don’t know when to stop asking questions.”

Lilly glanced toward Nadene, then chose her words carefully before answering. “Your apology is accepted.”

Nadene nodded her approval.

“We truly do appreciate your cooking skills,” Prudence said, obviously not wanting to go to bed. “I’m only sorry you can’t remain here at the house and be our cook. We all like Miss Addie, but she’s a poor excuse for a culinary artist.”

“Oh, listen to you,
culinary artist
,” Marmi mimicked, causing all of the girls to giggle.

“Do you know where you’ll be assigned once you begin at the Appleton?” Franny inquired.

“I’ve been told the spinning room, but I’m sure that it’s subject to change since I haven’t actually signed a contract yet. The thought that we’re required to sign a contract seems to imply that the owners don’t believe women will keep their word. As if women might not be responsible employees, don’t you think?” Lilly inquired, hoping to elicit the girls’ attitude toward their employer.

Nadene leaned back against her pillow and tucked the quilt under her chin, obviously willing to remain awake a bit longer.

“They require contracts from
all
employees—the men, too,” Prudence replied. “I think the contracts are a good thing. That way there’s no misunderstanding. We’re all given the same information about the rules and what is expected of us.”

Most of the girls nodded in agreement. Nadene didn’t respond.

“So you don’t mind any of the rules?” Lilly ventured.

“Some of the regulations may seem harsh—we’re certainly expected to give a long day of hard labor for our pay, but that’s to be expected. At least the Corporation has eliminated the required pew rent at St. Anne’s Episcopal,” Nadene stated.