The customers stopped at a nearby display case, gazing down at an assortment of hatpins and jewelry. ‘‘I’m surprised Bradley Houston isn’t at home this evening. I thought he’d be spending time with Jasmine and the baby when he finally arrived home.’’
Kiara listened while keeping her eyes forward. ‘‘Mrs. Hartzfeld mentioned he was out of town when the baby was born, but men have their business matters that require attention. You can’t fault him for being dedicated to his work.’’
‘‘I suppose not, but it’s not as though he doesn’t have servants who could take care of his errands.’’
‘‘Oh, look at that locket. I believe I may have to purchase it.
Mrs. Paxton, could you show me this locket when you finish there?’’
‘‘Of course,’’ the store owner replied. She handed Kiara her change and the bobbin of thread.
Kiara clutched the bobbin in her hand, now afraid to leave the store. If what those women said was correct, Bradley Houston was somewhere nearby. What if he saw her?
‘‘Was there something else you needed, Kiara?’’ Mrs. Paxton inquired.
‘‘What? Oh no. I’m just leavin’. Thank ya.’’ She had no choice but to depart.
Her hand trembled as she opened the door. She longed to silence the jingling bell, which announced to all nearby that someone was either entering or exiting the business. She prayed Bradley was nowhere in the vicinity, for surely the light from the store would illuminate her as she left the building. She looked down the street and saw only a small boy running with his dog and a number of carriages. Kiara bent her head, pulling her shawl around her face.
Nearing the Acre, she sighed in relief. She’d heard no footsteps and seen no carriage following her. Apparently she’d been overworking her imagination. Bradley had likely returned home. ‘‘I will na allow him to ruin my time in the Acre,’’ she murmured before knocking on the door of Granna Murphy’s hovel.
‘‘Kiara! Come in. What a lovely surprise it is ta see ya.’’ Bridgett’s eyes sparkled as she pulled Kiara inside. ‘‘How did ya manage to get away from the house?’’
By the time she’d explained the latest events of the Houston household, Granna Murphy was standing beside her with a wooden spoon in her hand. ‘‘I’m expectin’ ya to stay for supper, lass, and I’ll na be takin’ kindly to the thought of ya walkin’ out the door without first sittin’ down to the table with us.’’
Kiara hesitated. ‘‘I do na . . .’’
Before she could complete her refusal, Rogan burst through the door like the sunshine on a dreary day. ‘‘Good evenin’ to ya,’’ he said, his gaze circling the room and then resting upon Kiara’s face. ‘‘What’ve we here? A lovely visitor from the other side o’ town? Pleased we are to be havin’ such a fine lady in our midst.’’
He bowed from the waist and swept his cap in front of him in a grand gesture. ‘‘I see ya’re joinin’ us for supper,’’ he said, pointing toward the extra plate Granna Murphy had just placed on the table.
Kiara gave him an embarrassed grin. ‘‘Aye. I thought ’twould be good for me to have the taste of cabbage and potatoes on me lips again.’’
He gave her a hearty laugh. ‘‘Sure and we’d be pleased to oblige ya. I’m thinkin’ ya must get mighty tired of that fancy food they serve in that fine house where ya’re livin’.’’ They all sat down to partake of the meager fare. Rogan issued a quick prayer of thanks and then turned his attention back to Kiara. ‘‘And what’s this I hear but that it’s Kiara O’Neill we have to be thankin’ for discoverin’ what was makin’ the mill workers sick?’’
Bridgett nodded in agreement. ‘‘Dr. Hartzfeld’s been tellin’ everyone ’twas you who figured out the elixir was makin’ the girls sick. Folks here in the Acre are callin’ ya a hero.’’
‘‘I’m no hero, but glad I am that folks will no longer be takin’ that mixture and makin’ themselves sick.’’
Although Kiara attempted to help clear the table and wash dishes, Granna pushed her off to the other room to visit with Bridgett and Rogan. Bridgett excused herself to go and retrieve her mending, and Kiara turned her attention to Rogan. ‘‘So what of yar family, Rogan? Are any of them living in this country?’’
‘‘My family’s all gone to be with the Lord. I’m the only Sheehan to survive the famine. I worked hard, hopin’ to supply them with fare for their passage, but ’twas too little, too late. Starvation took them afore I could earn enough money to help. When they went home to be with the Lord, I vowed that so long as there was breath in me body and trust in God, no one I loved would ever go hungry again. I’m thankful God gave me the chance to help Bridgett with her passage, fer it took some of the pain away being able to help her get here.’’
‘‘So ya still trust in God?’’ Kiara meekly questioned.
‘‘Aye. O’ course I do. We can na be turnin’ our back on God just because an ill wind blows our way.’’
‘‘But when bad things keep happenin’, how do ya trust? God hasn’t done much for me and Paddy. Miss Jasmine explained all about Job, and we read the Bible each day. Knowing that a godly man such as Job suffered in his lifetime has helped some, but I’m still wonderin’ why things happen the way they do. Ya know . . . why do some of the cruelest people seem to be blessed while good folks are abused? Seems as though God has turned away from those that love ’im.’’
‘‘Ah, lass, ya can na be thinkin’ that way. Just because bad things happen, it does na mean that the Almighty has quit carin’.
It’s not Him that’s caused the grief in this world, but man with his devilish nature. Besides, lass, God has seen fit to give you a great house to live in and food on the table. Ya may be indentured, but ya’re not livin’ in squalor like most of us here in the Acre. Ya should be on yar knees thankin’ God for the safety and security ya have in that big house, while the rest of us face trouble at every turn in this place where we’re livin’.’’
‘‘Safety and security?’’ she blurted out. ‘‘Is that what ya think?
I’m hardly safe and secure. What I live is a life of torture and misery. Ya do na have any idea what I’m forced to endure.’’
His eyes widened at her reply, and she immediately put her hand to her mouth, realizing she’d said too much. Jumping up from the chair, she ran from the house.
‘‘Kiara!’’ Rogan called.
She could hear his footsteps behind her and then felt his fingers circle her arm. He pulled her to a halt. ‘‘Tell me what ya meant back there. Is someone hurtin’ ya?’’
She looked up into his eyes and realized it would matter little if she told him the truth. She was already defiled. No decent man would ever want her now. It would be easier to tell Rogan the truth than continue living a lie. And so there on the muddy street, feeling as filthy as the trash on the ground around them, she told him of Bradley’s visits to her attic room. Never once through the telling did she meet his gaze. When finished with her wretched tale, she turned and walked away, ready to retreat to the home she’d grown to detest.
‘‘Wait, lass,’’ Rogan said, once again at her side. ‘‘Do na run off from me. Ya need ta know I understand ya have been forced into a terrible situation. It was harsh of me to assume ya had an easier life than the rest of us. I beg ya to fergive me.’’
His gentle words of kindness were her undoing. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and he gathered her into his arms. ‘‘Do na cry, lass. Life is too short for all these tears. Ya can be certain that what ya have told me has na changed my feelings fer ya, lass.’’
Kiara leaned against his broad chest. Even if only for a brief moment, she wanted to feel loved and cherished. She leaned back and looked up into his eyes. ‘‘I was wonderin’ if ya could explain what feelin’s ya been havin’ fer me.’’
Rogan gave her a wink and smiled. ‘‘I think ya’re knowin’ exactly what feelin’s I’m talkin’ about, lass. Come along now. I’ll walk ya back to yar house.’’
The com
ments she’d overheard in Paxton’s Mercantile fleetingly crossed her mind. Surely Bradley would have long since returned home. ‘‘I’d be pleased to have yar company,’’ she replied.
CHAPTER • 27
JASMINE WAS delighted when the doctor pronounced her recovery, at least among the genteel women of Lowell, to be one of the swiftest in his career. She’d been anxious to be up and about, and Dr. Hartzfeld had not discouraged her. Of course, he was one of the few doctors supporting short confinements for women after the birthing process, but he had begun advocating such practice after seeing how well the women in the Acre, as well as the Yankee farmwives, seemed to thrive when required to immediately return to the duties of caring for their families after childbirth. Of course, those women had no choice.
‘‘I can’t believe you’re out of bed,’’ her father exclaimed upon his arrival. ‘‘And here I thought I’d already be in Lowell when you gave birth. However, I’m delighted the rigors of childbirth are behind you. You look radiant. Motherhood becomes you, my dear. And your mother will be delighted to hear she has a grandson.’’
‘‘Do sit down with me in the parlor. I want to hear all about Mother and, of course, my brothers—and Mammy. I’ve asked Bradley if we can journey to The Willows when Spencer is a little older. I do want Mother to see her new grandson.’’ She looked lovingly at the baby in her arms. ‘‘Tell me, how is she faring,
Father? I’ve had no correspondence for months, and her last letter made little sense to me.’’
Jasmine’s father wagged his head back and forth. ‘‘She has little interest in life. I force her out into the garden from time to time, but she much prefers to sit in her darkened bedroom.’’
‘‘Instruct Mammy to force her outdoors every day,’’ she suggested. ‘‘The sunlight will help cheer her spirits. Shortly after Bradley and I were married, I heard a renowned speaker discuss the effects of sunlight upon patients suffering from melancholy. He said sunlight and exercise were of great benefit. Perhaps you could have McKinley take her on a stroll after he’s completed his book-work each morning. I doubt Mammy would be up to any strenuous exercise.’’
‘‘No harm in trying,’’ he agreed, ‘‘although you know your mother can be difficult to persuade. She borders on hysteria when forced to do anything against her will. I fear she’s slowly slipping away from me. Dr. Borden thinks your mother has already reached the point of insanity. However, I heartily disagree.’’
‘‘No! She merely grows sad over the rigors of daily life. She’s always suffered from this malady, Father. Don’t let Dr. Borden convince you otherwise. Next he’ll be suggesting you place Mother in an asylum. Promise me you’ll never consent to such a thing! Such a commitment would certainly mean an end to her life.’’
‘‘You know I’d never send your mother to an asylum, dear.
Now quit worrying yourself. It’s not good for you. I’ll pass your suggestions along to Mammy. She said to send her love and best wishes. She sent along this little white bonnet she crocheted,’’ he said, handing her a small package. ‘‘I like the idea of having you visit. Perhaps it would help your mother. I’ll urge Bradley to make good on his promise to you.’’
Jasmine examined the bonnet and smiled. ‘‘I’ll pen a letter of thanks to Mammy, and you can take it back when you return.
Have Mother read it to her. Perhaps it will startle her out of her reverie for a few moments.’’
‘‘I’ll be glad to take your letter. And how have you been faring, dear? The letter from your grandmother concerned me, and I must say that Bradley has somewhat disappointed me with his business acumen. I had thought him quite astute. However, his lack of attention over these past months has me greatly disturbed.’’
Jasmine studied her father’s frowning features. ‘‘You know I was sorely disappointed when you chose Bradley as my husband.’’
Her father’s expression took on a look of worry. ‘‘Yes, but I hoped that in time you would learn to love him, just as your mother and I learned to love each other and my parents before that. Perhaps I was as wrong about that as I was his competency in business.’’
‘‘Bradley is a very difficult man to love, Father. He is moody and can be hurtful. I’ve attempted to make the best of my situation, but I must admit there are times when it has been quite distressing. I’m depending upon the Lord to see me through, and I’m hopeful this child is going to build a bridge in our relationship.’’
‘‘You’ve grown up,’’ her father said softly.
Jasmine smiled, realizing the truth of his words. ‘‘When I was still at home, I thought there was no better place to be. The Willows was a haven of love and strength to me.’’
‘‘But not now?’’
Jasmine heard the sorrow in his voice. ‘‘Papa, so many things have come to my attention, and I am afraid that I am not the naïve little girl who left over a year ago. Even so, The Willows will always remain dear to me. It will always be home in my memories.’’ She sighed. ‘‘I cannot say that this place is home. It doesn’t feel that way at all. In fact, Grandmother’s house feels more like home than this house.
‘‘I also cannot say that I am happy being wed to Bradley, but I am trying, as I said. I know that God is my protector and strength.
I have to trust that He will see me through. Spencer will help, no doubt. At least that is my hope.’’
‘‘I hope so too, my dear. Frankly, my concerns over Bradley’s business behavior are disconcerting enough that I’ve made arrangement for a few private appointments.’’
‘‘Truly? With whom?’’ Jasmine inquired.
‘‘I’m going to Boston the day after tomorrow for a meeting with the Associates.’’
‘‘What’s this I hear?’’ Bradley asked as he strode into the room.
‘‘I didn’t know there was to be a meeting of the Associates this week.’’
Jasmine turned toward the doorway. Her husband appeared pale and gaunt, and she wondered if he were ill. Even though her father’s visit had been secretly arranged, she felt somewhat vindicated when she looked at her husband now. Bradley definitely needed time to relax and refresh himself. Having someone else assist with the cotton shipments would surely provide the relief he desperately needed to restore his physical health and allow him time with his family. Sending the letter had been the proper thing to do.
Jasmine’s father turned as Bradley entered the room. ‘‘Good to see you, my boy. Thought perhaps you had gone into hibernation,’’ he said with a chuckle.
‘‘You mentioned a meeting of the Associates,’’ Bradley persisted. ‘‘Oh, nothing you need concern yourself with. Before my departure from Mississippi, I requested a private meeting with several of the members. This is not a gathering of the general membership.’’ ‘‘May I be so bold as to inquire what you need to discuss with the Associates that you haven’t discussed with me?’’ Bradley asked.
Jasmine startled at her husband’s tone. His eyes had narrowed and taken on a menacing glare. He was angry.
‘‘Excuse me, ma’am,’’ Kiara interrupted. ‘‘I was goin’ to take the wee babe to the nursery unless ya prefer he stay with you.’’
‘‘Thank you, Kiara. I’d appreciate that,’’ Jasmine replied.
‘‘Incidentally, Malcolm, I’ve been meaning to discuss the possibility of having you take one of my indentured servants back to The Willows with you.’’
Jasmine lifted the infant toward Kiara, whose eyes were fastened upon Bradley in an icy stare of loathing and disgust. ‘‘He should sleep for at least an hour,’’ Jasmine said.
‘‘The boy’s been working in the stables, but he hasn’t been meeting my expectations. I really need an older man who has more experience handling horses.’’
Jasmine’s father appeared perplexed but suggested, ‘‘We can talk about it when I return from Boston.’’
‘‘I’ll remain in the nursery with him, ma’am,’’ Kiara said as she exited the room.
&nb
sp; Jasmine could feel the tension escalate. Bradley was obviously goading Kiara, and Kiara apparently could not hide her hatred for Bradley. They exchanged glares that were charged with conflict.
Jasmine knew Kiara would be upset over any suggestion that Paddy leave Lowell, but surely Bradley’s offhand remark could not cause such immediate signs of loathing. There was something more at the root of this, and she intended to find out exactly what was going on in her household.
Kiara sat in the nursery watching the baby sleep and contemplating her situation. She had no choice but to get Paddy away from the Houston household before Malcolm Wainwright’s return from Boston. She wasn’t certain why Bradley was once again threatening to send Paddy away, but he was obviously enjoying the pain and discomfort caused by his latest threats. Had he seen her with Rogan? Surely not! More likely it was that she was sleeping in the nursery with the baby.
There had been little doubt of Bradley’s anger over the situation. With Jasmine’s quick recovery from her confinement, he had been livid when Alice suggested Kiara move into the nursery with Spencer. ‘‘Think of the added comfort and rest you’ll be granting your wife,’’ Alice had argued.
Kiara knew he wanted to mount an offensive, but such a move would have met with questioning disapproval. After all, he should want only the best care for the mother of his infant son. And so he had acquiesced. Although she’d been thankful for Alice’s plan, Kiara had not been the one who had broached the subject. Surely he could not hold that chain of events against her.
Later that night after Spencer was asleep in his cradle, she pulled out the leather pouch containing her coins. ‘‘Pitiful,’’ she murmured. ‘‘This isn’t enough to rent a room and support us in Boston until I can find work.’’ It was abundantly obvious her lace-making would not yet provide the two of them with a sufficient living. And even if she remained with the Houstons and gave Paddy all of the money she had saved, how would he fend for himself in a city the size of Boston?
She momentarily thought of sending him to the Acre, but Bradley would certainly find him there. Perhaps Rogan would have an idea. She’d have to find a way to slip away. Perhaps Jasmine would give her permission to visit the Acre when Bradley was away from the house.
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