A Fragile Design

by Tracie Peterson

  His words captured Bella’s attention. She reached out and grasped his arm with a sense of urgency. ‘‘Has something happened to Miss Addie? She was fine when I left the house this evening.’’

  Taylor enveloped her hand in his own. ‘‘I didn’t mean to alarm you; Miss Addie is in good health. This is more—’’ he hesitated, obviously searching for an explanation—‘‘a matter of the heart. Yes, I think that would best describe the situation.’’

  Bella was intrigued. Accepting Taylor’s proffered arm, she accompanied him through the arched doors of the gray-slate church. Why would Miss Addie suffer from a matter of the heart? She and John Farnsworth were deeply committed to each other. Thoughts of their relationship caused her to stop midstep.

  ‘‘Has John Farnsworth taken up with another woman?’’ Her words sliced through the air.

  Taylor’s mouth dropped open; he gaped at her in obvious disbelief. ‘‘What a terrible accusation! Do you think all men are unable to honor their word?’’

  Bella thought for a moment before answering. ‘‘My limited observation has shown me that it depends on the commitment and the person to whom it is made. I find men fall short in keeping their word when it is given to a woman.’’

  ‘‘Really? Well, my uncle John is not one of those men. He’s not a cad or philanderer. He cares very much for Miss Addie. He would never intentionally hurt her,’’ Taylor defended as they moved onward.

  ‘‘If this has nothing to do with your Uncle John, why would she be troubled?’’

  ‘‘You’re twisting my words, Bella. You do that all the time—you win people to your point of view by manipulating words.’’

  Once again Bella tugged him to a halt. ‘‘I do not manipulate words, but I’m not afraid to speak the truth. Why don’t you just tell me about the situation with Miss Addie and then we won’t be required to argue about my choice of words,’’ she fumed.

  ‘‘I didn’t tell you outright because I wanted to spend some time alone with you. I knew you wouldn’t permit me to escort you home if I merely blurted out what I had to say.’’

  She glanced up and gave him an embarrassed grin. ‘‘You’re right. I would have refused your invitation.’’

  He gave a quick nod of his head. ‘‘My uncle must leave in the morning. He was called to Kirk Boott’s office and told he is needed to journey to the southern United States for the Corporation.’’

  Bella’s eyebrows furrowed at his reply. ‘‘Why would the Corporation send your uncle John?’’

  ‘‘Mr. Boott was to make the journey, but his health has failed him during the past week and he’s unable to travel. He requested Mr. Cheever take his place. However, Mr. Cheever didn’t want to make the trip unless he could wait until after the birth of his child. When Mr. Boott said the journey must be made as soon as possible, Mr. Cheever suggested Uncle John.’’

  ‘‘Surely a short journey to the South won’t be overly upsetting to Miss Addie,’’ Bella determined.

  ‘‘I didn’t say short journey. He may be there for some period of time.’’

  ‘‘But why?’’

  ‘‘Uncle John didn’t tell me the details, but he did remark upon the fact that his skills of diplomacy would be needed. He’ll be meeting with plantation owners regarding cotton production and prices. Mr. Boott has been consulting with him for hours.’’

  ‘‘Wouldn’t you think there’s someone equally as qualified as your uncle?’’ she questioned. For Miss Addie’s sake, Bella didn’t want the Corporation sending Mr. Farnsworth.

  ‘‘I’m certain there are more qualified men, but apparently none of them will agree to make the trip. Uncle John doesn’t have much choice in the matter. In fact, Mr. Boott is now convinced Uncle John will perform magnificently. Those are Mr. Boott’s words, not mine.’’

  ‘‘Poor Miss Addie. She will miss him ever so much.’’

  Taylor nodded his agreement. ‘‘Miss Addie won’t have much time to become accustomed to the thought of Uncle John’s departure; he leaves in the morning.’’

  ‘‘I’ll do all I can to help Miss Addie while Mr. Farnsworth is away. Perhaps she would like to become involved as a representative on one of the committees.’’

  Taylor chuckled. ‘‘Your mind never stops working, does it? You’re always looking for an advantage.’’

  ‘‘I was merely suggesting one way to keep Miss Addie busy,’’ she demurely replied.

  ‘‘Well, just keep in mind that the membership must approve this plan of yours before anyone’s time will be filled choosing reading material,’’ he jibed.

  ‘‘And speakers,’’ she quickly added.

  ‘‘Yes, Bella,’’ he said as they neared the boardinghouse, ‘‘speakers, too. That’s Uncle John’s carriage.’’

  ‘‘At least they’ve had some time alone with all of the girls attending the meeting this evening,’’ Bella commented as the front window revealed the silhouette of John and Addie.

  The older couple had walked to the carriage by the time Bella and Taylor approached the front door.

  ‘‘Ah, Taylor, you can drive me home,’’ John said, affectionately slapping his nephew on the back.

  The tear stains on Miss Addie’s face were evident as she embraced John one last time. ‘‘Please take care of yourself. I want you to come home safe and sound,’’ she cautioned in a choked voice.

  ‘‘I’ll be safe and sound and back here before you even know I’ve gone. Promise you’ll give serious thought to our discussion.’’

  Addie nodded her head. ‘‘You know I will,’’ she said as the men drove away.

  Bella gently touched Miss Addie’s shoulder and drew near. ‘‘It’s obvious he cares deeply for you, Miss Addie. Mr. Farnsworth seems a fine man. There’s no doubt he’ll be back as quickly as his business will permit.’’

  Addie nodded and then gave Bella a look of surprise. ‘‘How did you know John was going away?’’

  ‘‘Taylor. He was concerned about you. I hope you don’t feel he betrayed a confidence by telling me.’’

  ‘‘No, it’s quite all right. Everyone will know by this time tomorrow. Word travels fast in this small community. I had best tell Mintie first thing in the morning. If she hears from someone else, there will be no end to her bruised feelings.’’

  Bella nodded. ‘‘Let’s just take care of today, Miss Addie. Tomorrow will take care of itself—that’s what Sister Mercy used to tell me. She said there were enough worries in one day without borrowing from the next.’’

  Addie chuckled. ‘‘Perhaps Sister Mercy was right.’’

  ‘‘Why don’t we have a nice cup of tea?’’ Bella suggested while leading Miss Addie toward the kitchen. ‘‘I’m positive Mr. Farnsworth will make every effort to return quickly.’’

  Addie made a valiant effort to smile. ‘‘I certainly hope so, my dear. I fear I’m going to miss him dreadfully.’’

  Taylor stoked the fire in the stove and sat down to consider his evening. With John now gone to bed in order to accommodate his early morning travel, Taylor felt rather alone and found the memories of his past rushing in like a cold December wind. He remembered his home in London, the scent of rain in the air, the sounds of the merchants and their customers. He thought from time to time of the pleasures he’d stolen—a kiss here or there, a quiet moment under the stars. He’d thought such diversions were all he’d ever want, but listening to his uncle speak of Miss Addie Beecher tonight, Taylor was no longer all that certain of his choices. John had stirred something deep inside Taylor that he had thought dead and buried.

  ‘‘There’s something to be said for a good woman,’’ John had told him on the way home. ‘‘A woman who will faithfully await your return, no matter where you go or how long it will take. Just the idea of knowing someone is home, anticipating your arrival, well . . . it makes living worthwhile.’’

  Taylor knew his mother and father had shared that kind of love. When his mother died it had nearly destroyed his father. H
e mourned her to his dying day—never quite being whole again. Never quite enjoying life as he had before her death. For that very reason, Taylor had difficulty in taking any kind of commitment seriously. He never wanted to duplicate the pain his father felt. It was easier to toy with women, to play the games they initiated. Games of pursuit—games to land a husband who would take care of them.

  Taylor had played the game better than most. Maybe too well. Now he wasn’t at all sure where the amusements left off and real life stepped in. A woman like Bella wasn’t interested in playing the coquette, and because of this Taylor didn’t know quite how to handle her. She wasn’t easily swayed by his appearance or manners. Enticements that had worked on other girls simply eluded Bella Newberry. Taylor told himself it didn’t matter, but deep down inside, it did.

  He’d relied upon his good looks and quick wit all his life. They were his bargaining tools—even with men. He had a boyish charm and roguish nature that he could use at will, no matter the situation. Of course, it hadn’t helped him with the matter of his last affair of the heart. That girl’s father had not been interested in being charmed out of his anger. But that was all behind Taylor now.

  ‘‘I’ve spent my adult life—short though it may be—avoiding the possible pain found in the commitment of genuine affection. And now John makes me remember the love of my parents, and I find myself confused. Have I only deluded myself?’’ he murmured. What more was there? Where was he to find solace and happiness?

  ‘‘Taylor, my darling boy,’’ his mother had once said, ‘‘God did not put you on this earth with a fine face and solid mind in order to see you do the devil’s work. He put you here for His will and glory. Find out what His will is and you will bring Him glory. And neither, I assure you, will have anything at all to do with your outward appearance. It will have everything to do with the quality of your heart.’’

  Taylor felt more haunted by his mother’s words here in America than he’d ever been in England. She’d been worried about him even as she slipped from this world. Burying his face in his hands, Taylor longed for peace of mind and heart.

  My inability to deal openly with others has also hindered my ability to deal with God. The phrenologist said I was a man who respected God, but I seldom give Him the time of day, Taylor admitted to himself. I’ve turned into that horrible man my mother warned me about, and I have no idea how to turn back.

  Looking up with a sigh, Taylor knew he’d find no answers that night. No, the things that troubled him deep in his soul would take time and effort . . . and most likely more commitment than he’d ever invested. Taylor, however, wasn’t at all sure he had it in himself to give.

  CHAPTER 18

  ‘‘I’ve been offered a position as a drawing-in girl,’’ Bella told Daughtie as the two of them hastened off toward the mill, the early morning still shrouded in darkness.

  The tower bell clanged, warning them the gate would soon be closing. Several girls rushed past, while another group was clustered close behind. ‘‘That would mean more money, wouldn’t it? Are you going to accept the position?’’

  Bella detected a hint of fear in Daughtie’s question. ‘‘If you’ll be happier if I remain nearby, I won’t accept. The money isn’t that important to me, Daughtie.’’

  Daughtie shook her head back and forth. ‘‘No. Asking you to remain a weaver wouldn’t be fair. You should accept the position. I hear that it’s much quieter,’’ she said, a note of longing in her voice.

  ‘‘Would you be interested in the position?’’ Bella asked.

  ‘‘It wasn’t offered to me. I’m sure they feel you’re better qualified.’’

  ‘‘But we both know that I’m not. You would do a much better job; you have more patience, and you don’t mind working independently. When I decline the position, I could recommend you.’’

  They hurried through the mill yard and began their ascent up the spiraling stairwell. ‘‘I don’t want you to refuse on my account. But if you should decide you’re not interested, you could mention my name,’’ Daughtie added quickly.

  Bella gave her a smile. ‘‘It will be my pleasure, although I will miss you. But I fear that your Bible memorization will far surpass mine if you take the drawing-in position.’’

  Daughtie giggled. ‘‘Then perhaps I will be forced to tutor you each evening.’’

  ‘‘You go on to your looms. I’ll stop and talk to Mr. Kingman,’’ Bella said as they walked through the door of the weaving room.

  Bella breathed a sigh of relief. Mr. Kingman wasn’t occupied repairing one of the looms or busy with his paper work. He was a stern man, and the girls quickly learned he hated interruptions. ‘‘Mr. Kingman? May I speak with you?’’

  He turned and nodded. ‘‘Have you made a decision about the drawing-in position?’’ he curtly inquired.

  Bella nodded. ‘‘I realize it pays more money, but I’d prefer to stay here in the weaving room—at least for now. But if I may be so bold, I would suggest you offer the position to Daughtie. I mentioned there was an opening, and I know she’s interested. To be honest, Mr. Kingman, she would be much better at the position. She’s much more patient and prefers more solitary work. You know how quickly she’s learned her looms. She can even—’’

  ‘‘Bella,’’ Mr. Kingman interrupted, ‘‘I’m aware of Daughtie’s workmanship. I agree she would be a good choice. If you’re not interested, she may have the position. Tell her to report to me. She can begin today. Now get to your looms.’’

  ‘‘Thank you, Mr. Kingman,’’ Bella enthusiastically said as she clasped her hands together. She rushed down the aisle, careful to keep her skirts away from the machines that had already clattered into motion. When she finally gained Daughtie’s attention, Bella motioned her friend toward Mr. Kingman.

  Daughtie nodded, slapped her looms to a halt, and hurried off. Bella was going to miss seeing her friend smile from across the aisle, but perhaps this new position would help Daughtie determine whether she should remain in Lowell or return to the Society. Already Daughtie had agreed that a portion of the Shaker beliefs were inconsistent with the Bible, yet Bella knew her friend was still drawn to the familiar environment in Canterbury. Perhaps God would speak to Daughtie’s heart.

  Daughtie had been gone for only a short time when Mr. Kingman appeared. He had a young girl with long chestnut hair and a rather sallow complexion in tow. He motioned for Bella to shut down her looms and pulled the girl forward. ‘‘Bella, this is Virginia Dane. You’ll train her on the looms; she’s been on the spinning floor working for Thaddeus Arnold. He recommended her for this position.’’

  The girl appeared frightened. Bella offered a broad smile and took Virginia’s hand. ‘‘Come stand by me at my looms and watch. I won’t start you on your own loom until—’’

  ‘‘She can begin on her own looms this afternoon. You can move back and forth across the aisle and help,’’ Mr. Kingman interrupted. ‘‘I don’t want both of Daughtie’s looms sitting idle any longer than necessary. Idle looms don’t make money.’’

  Bella didn’t argue. She disagreed with Mr. Kingman, but she disagreed with many decisions regarding the operation of the Appleton. Nobody cared what she thought; after all, she was only an operative, easily replaced by another girl looking for work. Besides, the men who owned these mills touted themselves as forward-thinking simply because they employed women, when such an avowal was simply untrue. Bella had quickly realized the Associates hired women merely to benefit themselves and their profits. However, she believed these jobs would ultimately lead to a measure of equality for women. There was no doubt the Shakers were far advanced on the issue of equality.

  When the breakfast bell finally rang, Bella pointed to the loom handle and motioned Virginia to stop the machine. ‘‘When we return from breakfast, I’ll have you try your hand at the loom,’’ Bella said, pulling the handle of the other machine.

  Virginia’s eyes grew large, and the smidgen of color in her sallow complexion d
rained from sight. The girl scurried along in Bella’s footsteps until they reached the bottom of the stairs. Virginia’s hands were shaking in spite of the warm morning sun.

  ‘‘I don’t think I can ever learn that,’’ she said as she pointed up the stairwell.

  ‘‘Of course you can, Virginia. If the rest of us can learn to manage those beastly machines, you can, too,’’ Bella said, forcing a note of cheer into her voice. ‘‘You’re going to do just fine, and in a couple of weeks, you’ll wonder why you were ever concerned.’’

  Virginia wagged her head back and forth. ‘‘I don’t think so. I wish I could go back to spinning,’’ she lamented.

  Bella gazed into the girl’s frightened eyes. ‘‘Why did you move to weaving, Virginia? The money?’’

  The girl continued to walk alongside Bella. ‘‘My family can certainly use the money, but Mr. Arnold gave me no choice. He said Mr. Kingman had requested a recommendation to fill a vacant position.’’

  ‘‘Then you must have been a very good spinner; otherwise, Mr. Arnold wouldn’t have recommended you. It appears as if Mr. Arnold believes you’re bright enough to learn a new job, and he’s giving you the opportunity to make additional money,’’ Bella encouraged.

  Virginia gave her a feeble smile. ‘‘No, that’s not why. He wanted to hire another girl for the spinning room. She’s quite lovely—long flaxen hair and sparkling blue eyes. Mr. Arnold likes pretty girls, and I’m not pretty,’’ she said in a flat voice.

  Bella startled at Virginia’s comment. She had heard rumors about Mr. Arnold and his behavior—stories of abusive behavior toward his wife and aggressive behavior toward the operatives.

  But that had been a couple of years ago. The Arnolds now had a baby girl. Surely Mr. Arnold wasn’t returning to his former way of life. Perhaps Virginia misunderstood his intentions.