A Love Woven True

by Judith Miller

  Jasmine giggled. ‘‘Between the two of you, I could become quite vain. And I’m certain that if I were wearing jewels from head to toe, I couldn’t surpass Violet’s beauty in your eyes, McKinley.’’

  Her brother winked and gave her a bright smile. ‘‘I do think she’s quite captivating. Now that her parents are finally introducing her into society, I plan to ask Mr. Cheever’s permission to court her.’’

  Nolan gave his brother-in-law a fond slap on the back. ‘‘And what do you call these occasional rides in the country and visits to her home, if not courting?’’

  ‘‘Our outings have been simply as friends. I now wish to seek proper permission to come calling. My hope is that there won’t be others standing in line to vie for her attention. I do worry that Mr. Cheever may have preconceived ideas about whom he would like his daughter to marry.’’

  Jasmine worked her fingers into a pair of lace gloves before moving toward the door. ‘‘Arranged marriages seem to be considered rather old-fashioned here in the North. Although I have heard of one or two, most families do not seem to be inclined to marry their children off in such a fashion as we did in the South.’’

  ‘‘I see nothing wrong in arranging marriages for the benefit of the family,’’ McKinley admitted, then quickly added, ‘‘but only if true love can be found at the same time.’’

  ‘‘Well, Mr. and Mrs. Cheever seem to be of an open mind— less than traditional I would think. I’d be surprised if he forced his daughter into a loveless marriage. After all, he married a woman for whom he had deep affection. Certainly he should understand the value of that concept.’’

  ‘‘Let’s hope you’re correct,’’ McKinley replied.

  ‘‘And let’s hope Spencer and Moses go to sleep and don’t give Kiara a difficult time,’’ Jasmine remarked. ‘‘I worry she may have her hands full with both of them as well as little Nevan.’’ She looked back up the stairs and hesitated.

  Nolan reached out and touched her arm. ‘‘I know you’re still nervous about leaving the house and the boys, but Rogan will soon be here, and the other servants won’t allow a soul to cross the threshold unless they are friend or family.’’

  McKinley nodded. ‘‘ ’Twould be unlikely for such an episode to happen more than once in a person’s lifetime. I believe your troubles are behind you, sister.’’

  ‘‘I pray you are right.’’

  Nolan assisted his wife into the carriage and then sat down beside her. ‘‘Now stop fretting. Kiara won’t be alone for long.

  Rogan was to be done with his work early today and told me he’d promised to come over to the house and lend her a hand with the children. To be honest, I doubt she needs any help. The boys both follow her instructions more quickly than they do ours.’’

  ‘‘Unfortunately, I believe you may be right on that account.’’

  McKinley laughed. ‘‘But then didn’t we always obey Mammy better than Mother or Father?’’

  Jasmine looked at him oddly. ‘‘I never thought of it, actually.

  It’s true that Kiara has been instrumental in helping me to raise Spencer, and she’s spent a good deal of time with Moses. But certainly she hasn’t been with them as closely as Mammy was with us.

  Especially with me.’’

  ‘‘I was telling Violet about our childhood a time back. She finds it all fascinating.’’

  ‘‘She no doubt struggles to understand our ways. Or perhaps I should say, our parents’ ways,’’ Jasmine admitted. ‘‘She was none too keen on my friendship and love for Naomi.’’

  ‘‘But why?’’ Nolan asked.

  ‘‘She thought it inappropriate. She said she could firmly get behind the cause of freeing the slaves, but not of associating with them,’’ Jasmine recalled.

  ‘‘I have to admit, sister, such thoughts reflect my own. Not because I think the black man or woman to be less than valuable.

  But what would we have in common? People in social classes come together as such because they value the same things, they work or live in similar fashion. Can you possibly see a former field hand wearing tails and sipping champagne?’’

  ‘‘But we were taught how to conduct ourselves in such situations. In the nursery, I was shown the proper etiquette for holding teas. I learned to dance because someone took the time to teach me the steps,’’ Jasmine said, her tone intense.

  McKinley recognized something in her manner that suggested he move cautiously. ‘‘I’m uncertain whom you would find with a willing heart to teach such things. The Negro isn’t going to be allowed in regular schools. Their mannerisms are frightening to most white people.’’

  ‘‘It’s fear born out of ignorance and nothing more,’’ Jasmine protested. ‘‘If people would learn to look beyond their fears, they might find their views drastically changed.’’

  Elinor hesitated before entering the walkway to the Cheever home. She felt strangely out of place attending Violet Cheever’s coming-out party. Yet Lilly Cheever had insisted, citing the fact that she and Mr. Cheever did not stand upon social traditions— along with the fact that much of her husband’s success in the mills had depended upon Elinor’s uncle’s and brother’s abilities making calicos and implementing new technology and patterns for the mills. And so Elinor had diffidently agreed to attend, though now she wondered why she had done so. Had her brother Taylor and his wife, Bella, not been in Scotland, they would have accompanied her. But when word of the unexpected death of their eldest sister, Beatrice, had arrived, Taylor and Bella immediately sailed for Scotland in order to lend their assistance to the family.

  The Houston carriage came to a halt a short distance beyond where Elinor stood outside the house. ‘‘Good evening, Elinor,’’ Jasmine greeted as she stepped down from the carriage. ‘‘Won’t you join us?’’

  Elinor issued a silent prayer of thanks. At least she’d not have to enter the party alone. ‘‘Yes, thank you. I feel a bit awkward without Taylor and Bella. I usually attend social functions with them.’’

  ‘‘I understand they’re visiting in Scotland,’’ Jasmine said.

  ‘‘Yes, with my sister’s family. I don’t expect them back for another six weeks.’’

  ‘‘Then you must permit us the pleasure of escorting you this evening,’’ Nolan said.

  ‘‘Thank you. The party promises to be quite an event, don’t you think?’’

  McKinley’s lips turned up in a wide grin. ‘‘I heartily agree.’’

  Jasmine took Elinor by the arm and leaned close. ‘‘He’s hoping Miss Cheever will grant him exclusive courting privileges.’’

  Elinor smiled at McKinley as they walked up the steps. ‘‘I wish you good fortune with Miss Cheever. She appears to be a fine young lady.’’

  ‘‘Thank you, Mrs. Brighton,’’ McKinley said while opening the door.

  The music from the small orchestra floated into the entryway as Matthew and Lilly Cheever stood greeting their guests. Once properly introduced, Elinor made her way into the room and was planning to find a corner in which to quietly watch the festivities.

  Jasmine, however, remained close by her side, taking her by the hand as she and Nolan moved among the guests.

  ‘‘I don’t believe we’ve met these folks,’’ Jasmine said to her husband as they approached a small cluster of men and women gathered near the double doors that led into the garden.

  One of the gentlemen turned in their direction, and Nolan drew closer, extending his hand. ‘‘Nolan Houston and my wife, Jasmine, and Mrs. Elinor Brighton,’’ he said.

  ‘‘John and Jenny Riddell and my sons, Charles and Luther.Mr. Cheever graciously extended an invitation to our family. We’re in Lowell planning several investment opportunities.’’

  ‘‘Lowell is an excellent community in which to place your trust—and your money,’’ Nolan said with a grin.

  ‘‘Are you planning to invest in the mills?’’ Jasmine inquired.

  ‘‘Possibly. However, my sons are more intere
sted in the patent medicine business. They believe they’ll encounter fewer problems dealing in a smaller enterprise rather than working through the layers of organization developed by the Boston Associates in their conglomerate.’’

  ‘‘I’m not certain I agree with your thinking,’’ Nolan said. ‘‘I believe you’ll find James Ayer rather unwilling to permit you entry into his growing pharmaceutical venture.’’

  Luther moved to Nolan’s side and tilted his head closer. ‘‘If he doesn’t desire a partner, then we may be inclined to compete with him.’’

  ‘‘I do hope you have a new and inventive product in mind, as I don’t believe you’ll be able to compete with his Cherry Pectoral or Cathartic Pills. I believe he has captured the market.’’

  ‘‘If my research serves me, Ayer began an apprenticeship with a gentleman by the name of Robbins not so many years ago,’’ Luther said. ‘‘I’m certain he didn’t know much about the pharmaceutical business at the time he began his apprenticeship. Ayer had seen a need for specific medicinal products and then developed a product to fill that particular void. He is obviously an astute businessman, but so are we.’’

  ‘‘Then why not discover another need within society and fill that void, rather than merely choosing to expand upon the pharmaceutical business?’’ Jasmine inquired.

  Elinor glanced toward Nolan, who was giving his wife a look of obvious admiration.

  ‘‘As you’ve possibly surmised, my wife is an astute businesswoman, as well as an astonishing wife and mother,’’ Nolan praised.

  ‘‘Truly? And what void did you fill in the business world, Mrs. Houston?’’ Luther asked with a smirk.

  ‘‘Are you familiar with Arabian horses, Mr. Riddell?’’

  ‘‘I’ve seen one or two. They’re fine-looking animals, but quite expensive.’’

  ‘‘Indeed! However, there is an exclusive market for Arabians in this country. I fill that void with my Arabians, and now we’ve expanded and are raising Shagyas, an even more exclusive breed of Arabian.’’

  Luther Riddell gave a hearty laugh. ‘‘Pray tell, what is a Shagya?’’

  ‘‘It’s an Arabian breed that was developed at the military stud farms of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy. The Shagya combines the advantages of a Bedouin Arabian with the requirements of a modern riding or carriage horse. This breed has inborn friendliness toward humans. President Taylor was quite interested in the Shagyas and had planned to visit our horse farm. His untimely death prevented the visit, but he had a true love for Arabians and was very enthusiastic about the breed.’’

  ‘‘I must say that if you had the interest of a horseman such as President Taylor, you most certainly must be raising some exceptional horseflesh,’’ John said.

  ‘‘Thank you, Mr. Riddell. If you’ll excuse us, I believe my brother desires to speak with me.’’

  As they made their way across the room, Jasmine waved at Daughtie and Liam Donohue, then turned toward Elinor. ‘‘You did receive word the group of runaways we’re awaiting won’t be arriving as expected, didn’t you?’’

  ‘‘No, I wasn’t notified. Are you certain?’’

  Jasmine nodded. ‘‘Violet said she’d send word to everyone, but I fear with all of the preparations for her party, she may have forgotten any number of people. Now that I realize she failed to send word to you, I believe I’ll check with the others, but first I must talk to McKinley.’’

  ‘‘If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll go out to the garden for some fresh air,’’ Elinor said.

  ‘‘Outdoors? I fear you may be a little chilly,’’ Jasmine said.

  ‘‘I’ll be fine.’’

  Being careful to avoid the couples moving toward the portion of the room designated for dancing, Elinor wended her way through the crowd. She walked out the doors into the cool night air and immediately began briskly rubbing her arms. The garden appeared eerily forsaken. Swiping dead leaves from a nearby bench, Elinor sat down and contemplated the information Jasmine had just divulged, wondering what had occurred to cause the runaways’ delay. Likely there had been a fear their plans had been compromised.

  ‘‘Probably some unsuspecting person making idle conversation. Someone exactly like me,’’ Elinor whispered, thinking of Oliver Maxwell and his suspicious behavior. She fervently hoped he would disprove her growing concerns.

  A breeze cut through the leafless branches. She shivered and rose to her feet, pacing back and forth in front of the bench, hoping that the movement would warm her. Oliver’s recent remarks had given her pause, especially his harsh statements regarding Naomi and the description of her appearance. Oh yes, he’d given her an explanation, yet she increasingly doubted Oliver’s word. Even if he’d spoken the truth about measuring Naomi for shoes, how had he known about the capture of the last group of runaways? Even though she’d felt an urging to be honest with the marshal, she’d instead given him ambiguous replies to his many questions. Now she needed to know exactly what role Oliver Maxwell may have played in all of these incidents.

  ‘‘And there’s only one way to be certain. Prepare yourself to be tested, Oliver,’’ she murmured, hoping that he would soon return from New Hampshire.

  The girls gathered around the dining table, their hunger evident as they forked thick slices of ham onto their plates and ladled creamy gravy over heaping mounds of boiled potatoes. ‘‘Pass the apple butter,’’ Abigail requested.

  Mary handed the apple butter to Sarah, who passed it down the line of girls until it reached Abigail. ‘‘I heard one of the girls say that McKinley Wainwright received permission to court Violet Cheever at her coming-out party last night. Looks like he’s going to marry himself right into a permanent position with the mills.’’

  ‘‘There are going to be a lot of girls sorry to hear your news,’’ Sarah said. ‘‘More than a few had their hopes set upon winning the heart of Mr. Wainwright.’’

  ‘‘Obviously he has his sights set upon someone who can ensure him a place within the hierarchy of the wondrous Boston Associates,’’ Abigail said.

  Elinor refilled a bowl of green beans and placed them on the table with a thud. ‘‘I believe you girls are being unfair. You’re judging a person and a situation about which you have no personal knowledge.’’

  ‘‘Mrs. Brighton is correct on that account: we really don’t have reliable information. Perhaps you’d be willing to share your personal knowledge with us since you had the privilege of attending the party last evening,’’ Abigail replied with a smug grin.

  ‘‘I’ll respond by saying only that McKinley Wainwright is an upstanding young man who doesn’t need to rely upon anyone else in order to succeed in life. From all that I have observed, his interest in Violet Cheever is based upon genuine affection, nothing else. But I certainly do not consider myself an authority on the topic.’’

  ‘‘But he has asked and received permission to court her, hasn’t he?’’ Abigail insisted.

  ‘‘Yes. And they do make a striking couple,’’ Elinor replied before turning on her heel and returning to the kitchen.

  Once she’d completed the supper dishes and satisfied herself the kitchen was in order, Elinor retrieved her needlework and joined several of the girls in the parlor. She knew they’d soon leave for an evening stroll into town or go up to their rooms to write letters and visit. She’d just begun her stitching when a knock sounded at the front door. Moments later, Sarah escorted Oliver into the parlor.

  ‘‘Since Mr. Maxwell isn’t carrying his case, it appears as if he’s come to call on you, Mrs. Brighton,’’ Sarah announced.

  Elinor felt the heat rise in her cheeks. ‘‘Do come in and join us, Oliver.’’

  Oliver sauntered into the room but remained standing. ‘‘I thought perhaps we could take a stroll, where we could be afforded a bit more privacy.’’

  Several of the girls covered their mouths and snickered while they exchanged gleeful glances, as though they’d been privy to a valuable tidbit of gossip.
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br />   Tucking her needlework into the sewing basket beside her chair, Elinor smiled. ‘‘Yes, of course. A walk sounds delightful, but I need to speak to you in private before we leave.’’

  Oliver dutifully followed her into the dining room. ‘‘Why all the secrecy?’’

  ‘‘I didn’t want any of the girls to overhear, but I received word only a short time ago that the runaways we weren’t expecting until next week will be arriving by midnight tonight. I was asked to gather additional supplies from town since we weren’t entirely prepared for them just yet.’’

  Grasping her arm, Oliver looked straight into her eyes. ‘‘Are you saying they will be here tonight?’’

  ‘‘Yes! That’s why I was delighted when you mentioned going for a walk. I can use your help carrying my purchases. I was concerned about how I would get the items home and then, thankfully, you arrived.’’

  ‘‘But I won’t be able to assist you,’’ he said beginning to edge away from her.

  ‘‘Why not? You asked me to go for a walk . . . I don’t understand.’’ ‘‘I’ve just remembered something that requires my immediate attention.’’

  ‘‘Surely it can wait,’’ she said, taking hold of his arm.

  He pulled away from her and turned toward the door. ‘‘I must go now.’’

  Elinor watched as he all but ran from the house. She leaned against the dining room table, weak from the realization that Oliver Maxwell was her enemy. He stood for everything she despised, yet she had helped him succeed. Her loose tongue had given him enough information to capture the last group of escaped slaves. Cupping a trembling hand over her mouth, Elinor collapsed onto the wooden chair and sobbed.

  CHAPTER• 21

  WITHOUT TAKING TIME to apologize for his rude behavior, Oliver pushed his way through the small groups of mill girls and evening shoppers that unwittingly blocked his path. He must get to the livery immediately. Gone were the days when he had his strawberry roan at his immediate disposal. Instead, he now relied upon the use of Mr. Kittredge’s livery horses while he continued to maintain his horse had been stolen when Spencer Houston and Naomi were abducted.