A Perfect Silhouette

by Judith Miller

  When they’d all gathered around the table, Morgan’s grandfather said grace. He’d barely whispered amen before his mother leaned forward. “We’re excited to hear this news you mentioned, Father.”

  Morgan smiled across the table at his father. Both of them could have waited until after the meal, while his mother never could bear to wait on anything—especially a bit of secretive news.

  His grandfather forked a bite of creamed potatoes into his mouth, swallowed, and looked at his daughter. “I thought we could wait until after dinner, but I know how you are, Ruth. I won’t keep you waiting any longer.” He inhaled a breath and let it out slowly. “You may recall my speaking of traveling to China?”

  She shook her head. “I do, but—”

  “I’ve booked passage for two.”

  His mother’s brows shot up. “Two? Well, you’ll need to find someone else to go with you. I’m not going to China.”

  The older man laughed. “I’m not inviting you, Ruth. My new wife is going to accompany me. It will be our wedding trip.”

  “New wife? Wedding trip?” Her fork slipped from her fingers and clanked against the china dinner plate. “Gracious, Father! You sound like an old man who’s completely lost his faculties. First of all, you’re not . . .” Her words trailed off as she stared at her father. “Wait. Did you . . . did you get married without telling me?”

  “Remember who you’re speaking to, Ruth. I’m your father, not your child. Yes, I did get married without telling you. I didn’t bring her along because I thought it best to tell you we were married before making introductions.”

  Morgan’s mother visibly paled. “A gold digger, no doubt. I cannot believe—”

  “She is not interested in my money, Ruth. I do wish I could say the same for you.” His mother gasped at the remark, but his grandfather shushed her. “She is wealthy in her own right, so you need not worry about any attempt to gain your inheritance. I’ll bring her here to meet you after we return from China.”

  His mother stammered her apologies, then added how pleased she would be to meet her new “mother.”

  “No need to go that far with your acceptance of her,” his grandfather replied. “I believe she’ll be pleased to be addressed by her given name.”

  “Which is?” his mother asked.

  “Aletha Williamson.”

  Her mouth gaped. “Not the Aletha Williamson of the Williamson Carriage Companies?”

  “The very one. She’s lovely, and I believe you’ll find her quite gracious.” His grandfather turned to Morgan and smiled. “I know you’re eager to get back to that boardinghouse where you’ve been living.” He glanced at Morgan’s father. “Your father has told me all about what’s been happening at the mill and the new invention. It sounds as though he wants you to step in and begin to take the reins of the company, so I decided that if you’re soon to become a manager of some sort, you shouldn’t be living with your parents—or in a boardinghouse.”

  His mother picked up her water goblet and took a sip. “There is more than enough room for Morgan to live here with us. I don’t know why you think he shouldn’t live at home.”

  “I’d like you to let me finish speaking, Ruth.” He directed a sharp look down the table. “Morgan, your father and I did a bit of looking around and discovered a nice place that’s closer to town than all these mansions around here. It will make a fine place for you to live—not too big, but enough space that if you ever marry it will be adequate, at least for a while.” He looked at his daughter. “I don’t want any argument about this, Ruth. You sent him off to all those fancy schools when he was a child and needed you. Now that he’s grown, he doesn’t need a mother to coddle him.”

  The gift was as much of a surprise as his grandfather’s marriage announcement. “Thank you, Grandfather. I think I’ll enjoy having a home of my own. And congratulations on your marriage. I’m glad to hear your new wife has your same adventurous spirit. I’m sure you’re going to have a grand time in China.”

  His grandfather chuckled. “You’re right on that account.”

  When Morgan departed later that day, his emotions remained a jumble. His grandfather had insisted upon taking him on a tour of his new home, and though Morgan had been pleased with the house and had enjoyed time alone with the family patriarch, he couldn’t push aside his worries about Mellie. The house his grandfather gave him would mean little if he couldn’t one day share it with the woman he loved.

  Morgan walked alongside Mr. Hale to Stark Mill Number One, where they would meet Cyrus Baldwin for the initial runs on two additional bagging looms. The first of the looms was now in full production, and if all went well, they’d have the other two operating at full capacity by the end of the week. Orders already had begun arriving, and excitement was high at Number One, where the looms had been set up on the second floor. If needed, there would be room for at least two more looms on that floor.

  Mr. Baldwin strode toward them and waved his hat in the air as they approached. “Good morning, gentlemen! It’s a fine day, isn’t it?”

  Mr. Hale pointed toward the sky. “If you like freezing temperatures and snow, then you’re right. It’s a fine day, Cyrus.”

  “I don’t care about the weather so long as we’re ready to pull the levers on those other two looms.” Mr. Baldwin drew near and clapped Mr. Hale on the shoulder.

  The three of them stepped inside the building and brushed the snow from their coats. As they neared the winding brick stairway, Mr. Baldwin came alongside Morgan. “I know you’ve been as concerned as I have been about the patent and copies of my design.”

  Morgan’s stomach clenched. Surely this couldn’t be bad news. They’d already begun production. Another company having filed a competing patent would mean financial disaster. He didn’t want to believe his inability to protect the drawings might result in financial loss—for both Mr. Baldwin and the Stark Mills.

  “Yes, I’ve been very concerned. Mr. Hale has likely told you that I’d been doing a bit of investigating until he called a halt to my inquiries.”

  “Indeed, he did.” Mr. Baldwin offered a generous smile. “However, I pursued the final piece in the puzzle and called on Ezekiel Snow in Lowell.”

  “And did he tell you he didn’t know a Franklin Montee?”

  Mr. Baldwin laughed. “That’s exactly what he said. Denied any connection to anyone with the name Montee.”

  Morgan’s heart slammed against his chest wall. Why was Mr. Baldwin laughing? If Ezekiel Snow had denied knowing Franklin Montee, it closed all doors to locating the man. “What do we do next?”

  “Not a thing.” Mr. Baldwin shook his head. “You see, after I visited Mr. Snow at his office, I located his home and proceeded to pay his wife a visit. I said I was an acquaintance of Montee, had lost touch with him, and learned she or her husband might be related. Then I asked her if she could help me.”

  “And did she?”

  “She did.” Mr. Baldwin grinned. “Turns out Mr. Montee is her nephew. A sweet young man who isn’t in complete control of his faculties and requires constant nursing care. Seems he was thrown from a horse a few years ago and suffered head injuries of some sort. Mr. Snow is his guardian and conservator, and he’s taken to using Mr. Montee’s name to hide some of his own business matters. There’s little doubt Mr. Snow is the one who copied the documents and then attempted to gain the patent. Since he controls any assets that flow to Mr. Montee, it was safe for him to use his nephew’s name.” He shook his head. “Sad thing how a man who’s revered as an upstanding businessman in the community would stoop to such lows.”

  While Morgan followed the other two men up the staircase, he thought of his own mother. Her misguided plans to finance the circular looms could have resulted in disastrous consequences for his father. If the money hadn’t been returned to the Amoskeag Company prior to the annual audit, it was his father who would have been held accountable. And the fact that she’d organized a lottery for personal gain further grieved him
. Granted, she was now contrite, but he shuddered to think that she had considered using those proceeds for her own benefit. Morgan wondered if she’d erased the entire matter from her mind, or if she had privately apologized to his father. He hoped the latter. He’d been convicted of the error of his ways, and though he hadn’t yet spoken to Mellie, he’d asked God’s forgiveness. Would she be willing to forgive him, too? At the moment, he wasn’t certain she’d even speak to him.

  Throughout the remainder of the day, the workers tested the looms. By the time they departed that evening, there was little doubt the looms were going to manufacture a product that would prove an economic boon for the Stark Mills.

  While Morgan shared in the excitement with the other workers, nothing in his life could be thoroughly enjoyed until he’d set things right with Mellie.

  Morgan didn’t go to the photography shop until a half hour before closing time. He wasn’t sure whether Mellie would expect him to appear and walk her home, but even if she didn’t care to talk to him, he wanted to make sure she arrived home safely.

  Mellie looked up when the bell over the front door jangled, but she didn’t smile or greet him. Instead, she turned back to her customer and continued her cutting. Not wanting to disturb her, Morgan circled around to the parlor area used by Mr. Harrison. He was surprised to discover Mr. Harrison and Mr. Knoll sitting in the two wing-back chairs, conversing together.

  Mr. Harrison caught sight of Morgan as he rounded the corner. “Morgan! Come and join us.” He pointed to an empty chair nearby. “I think Mellie will be a while longer. Her customer hasn’t been here long.”

  Morgan hadn’t spoken with Mr. Harrison since his aggressive inquiry regarding Franklin Montee and Mr. Knoll. Even though Mr. Harrison had denied any knowledge of Mr. Montee, Morgan hadn’t been entirely convinced at the time. Now, knowing the truth, he felt a sense of embarrassment that he’d secretly questioned Mr. Knoll’s involvement. While there had been reason to suspect him, Morgan was pleased the real culprit hadn’t been Mr. Harrison’s dear friend.

  Morgan nodded and sat down beside Mr. Knoll. “Good to see you back in Manchester, Mr. Knoll. I thought you had plans to remain in Washington for Christmas.”

  Mr. Knoll adjusted the spectacles that rested on his narrow, sharp nose. “I considered remaining, but many of my friends who live in the city had departed to enjoy the holiday in warmer climes, and I had concluded my business.” He glanced at Mr. Harrison. “I considered returning home, but there was no reason to do so. I’d stopped there on my way to Washington and delivered the artwork to my customers.”

  Mr. Harrison leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. “So Samuel did what I asked and then returned to Manchester so we can continue to work on our little project.”

  Morgan tipped his head to the side. “What project is that?”

  “Now that Samuel has spoken with his attorney and we’re hopeful we’ll secure our patent, I suppose we can tell you.” Mr. Harrison smiled. “That is, we’ll tell you so long as you give your word that you’ll keep your lips sealed.”

  Morgan nodded. “You have my word. If anyone knows the importance of safeguarding an invention, it’s me.”

  Mr. Harrison stood and walked to a cabinet in the back room. When he returned, he sat down beside Morgan and presented a daguerreotype that was unlike any other Morgan had ever seen. Instead of a single image, there were two identical images side by side. “When you look at these two images through a stereoscope, the images layer themselves and become dimensional.” He stopped and looked at Morgan. “Have you ever seen a stereoscope?”

  Morgan shook his head. “I don’t believe so. And if I have seen one, I didn’t know what it was called.”

  Mr. Knoll chuckled. “I have mine upstairs. I’ll be back down in a moment.”

  When Mr. Knoll was out of earshot, Mr. Harrison leaned forward in his chair. “By the way, Mellie didn’t seem herself when she arrived today. I expected to hear about the fancy party she attended Saturday night, but when I inquired, she merely said it was a disappointment and so I didn’t pursue the matter.” He shot a glance toward the front of the shop. “Has she spoken to you? I wonder if perhaps one of the men at the party made untoward remarks to her—or perhaps she didn’t receive as much pay as expected.”

  “I know it was a difficult evening, and I hope to talk with her about it on the way home this evening.”

  “Good, good. She’s usually such a cheerful young lady. It’s unusual to see her without a smile.”

  Before Morgan could comment further, Mr. Knoll appeared. “This, my young friend, is a stereoscope.” He handed Morgan a wooden box with gold hinges and gold-rimmed eyecups. “This is what has been used with the stereoscope since it was invented.” He gave Morgan a thick piece of cardboard with hand-drawn images of a country scene. After placing the cardboard in a slot, he tapped the eyecups. “Now look through those and see how the drawing becomes dimensional rather than a flat picture.” He waited as Morgan brought the stereoscope to his eyes. “Well? Do you see what I mean?”

  Morgan gaped at the image. It was as if he were right there in the scene. The bridge, the trees, and the flowers all came to life in a new and unique way. He withdrew the stereoscope from his eyes. “This is wonderful. I’m amazed at the lifelike imagery.”

  Mr. Harrison grinned. “Now place this dual-imaged daguerreotype in the slot and look at it through the stereoscope.”

  Morgan did as Mr. Harrison instructed. “It’s truly extraordinary.” He returned the stereoscope to Mr. Knoll. “You’ve invented a method to create these dual images of daguerreotypes for use with the stereoscope?”

  “That’s right. We’re calling them stereograph cards.” Mr. Harrison beamed. “Think how exciting it will be for people to see images of different countries, artwork, animals, and spectacular events, and all with a clarity and detail never before imagined.”

  “Remarkable,” Morgan said. He looked toward Mellie when the bell jingled over the shop’s door. “I hope you will experience great success with your invention. And I promise I won’t breathe a word to anyone.” He rose from the chair. It was near closing time, and Mellie was gathering her belongings. He didn’t want her to depart without him.

  “Yes, I trust you’ll keep your word, Morgan.” Mr. Harrison stood and patted his shoulder. “I believe it’s time to close the shop. I’ll follow behind you and Mellie and lock the door.”

  Mellie hadn’t given any indication she was pleased to see him or that she’d expected him to come and escort her home. Truth be told, he didn’t know how she would react to him when he approached. By the time he neared her side, she had already donned her cloak. He shrugged into his heavy wool overcoat and reached down for her case.

  “I can carry that, thank you.” She grasped the handles of the case and strode toward the front door.

  He didn’t argue but matched her pace, arriving at the front door in time to open it for her. She gave him a little nod, then glanced over her shoulder and bid Mr. Harrison good-night.

  When they’d gone but a short distance, Morgan touched her arm. “Mellie, I’d like an opportunity to sit down together so that I might explain everything to you. Would you please join me for a cup of hot chocolate or tea at Putney’s?”

  She stopped and met his eyes. “I don’t believe you can talk your way out of all that’s happened between us, Morgan, but as long as you promise to speak the truth, I’ll listen to what you have to say.” He smiled, and she shook her head. “Please understand that my agreement to hear you out does not mean all will be well. I will listen, yet it will take more than words to heal the broken trust that now exists between us.”

  He could ask for nothing more than the opportunity to plead his case. A thin layer of icy snow crunched beneath their shoes as he silently prayed for God to give him the words to melt her heart.

  Chapter

  twenty-seven

  MELLIE’S THOUGHTS SKIPPED FROM ONE QUESTION TO the next. Her stoma
ch twisted in a knot as they walked toward Putney’s. There were so many things she wanted to ask Morgan, yet she worried his responses might not be truthful. She’d been so trusting, believed everything he’d told her, and he’d taken advantage of her trust. She was trying to recall the preacher’s sermon. She needed to forgive and seek to restore trust between them, to listen with an open mind. Though she longed to mend their relationship, fear had gained a foothold, and she doubted if Morgan would be able to convince her to trust him fully again.

  A blanket of warmth and wondrous smells enveloped her as they stepped inside the confectionery. The aroma of Mrs. Putney’s baking permeated the shop. The couple lived in a small apartment at the rear of the shop, and each morning and evening Mrs. Putney baked the confections offered from behind the glass-covered cases.

  Morgan helped with her coat, then pulled out a chair for her. He lifted his nose and inhaled a deep breath. “I believe I smell Mrs. Putney’s famous apple dumplings.” He hesitated. “Or maybe it’s apple pie. Either way, it makes me want to order a sweet dessert with my tea. What would you like?”

  She hadn’t planned to eat, but food could provide a small diversion, if needed. “A piece of gingerbread if there’s any in the case. If not, one of Mrs. Putney’s molasses brownies would be nice.”

  “I’ll do my best,” he said and strode toward the counter.

  She stared at his strong shoulders and the fine cut of his wool jacket, and her heart swelled. He certainly looked handsome in both his work clothes and the suit, and he seemed equally comfortable in either getup. How could that be? Instead of his usual work clothes, he’d arrived at the shop wearing a suit that was as fine as those worn by any shop owner or businessman. Had Mr. Harrison questioned Morgan’s change of attire? The three men had been deep in conversation during Morgan’s visit, and she wondered what they’d talked about for so long. Did Morgan discuss with them the fiasco that occurred at the party? Did he hope to win the allegiance of the two men? She hoped not. The last thing she needed was pressure from Mr. Harrison about her relationship with Morgan.