A Fragile Design

by Tracie Peterson

  Unsure how she should react, Bella gave Virginia an encouraging hug. ‘‘You’ll be fine, Virginia. All you need is a little prac- tice and a dose of confidence. I’ll do my best to help you gain both.’’

  Virginia tilted her head to the side as though it would help her digest the information. ‘‘Then I’ll try very hard, and perhaps I will learn,’’ she agreed.

  They had reached the edge of the mill yard when Daughtie raced up behind them. ‘‘Well, did you miss me?’’ she asked with a grin.

  ‘‘Of course I missed you,’’ Bella replied. ‘‘This is Virginia Dane,’’ she said, turning toward the new girl. ‘‘She’s going to work your looms.’’

  ‘‘Hello, Virginia,’’ Daughtie said.

  ‘‘Hello,’’ Virginia replied. ‘‘I go in this direction,’’ she said, pointing toward a distant row of boardinghouses.

  ‘‘I’ll see you after breakfast,’’ Bella said, watching as Virginia departed.

  ‘‘She’s a frightened little mouse,’’ Daughtie commented.

  ‘‘Yes, very frightened,’’ Bella agreed. ‘‘Come on—the bells will be ringing us back to work before we’ve had our breakfast,’’ she said, urging Daughtie into the house.

  After gobbling down her breakfast, Bella darted into the kitchen to check on Miss Addie before returning to work. Spying the older woman coming in the back door, Bella rushed toward her. ‘‘How are you today, Miss Addie?’’

  The older woman patted Bella’s shoulder. ‘‘You need not fret about me, dear. I’m doing fine. Come visit with me tonight.’’

  ‘‘There’s the bell—I’ll talk to you this evening,’’ Bella promised as she rushed back into the dining room, through the parlor, into the hallway, and out the door. She quickly moved alongside Daughtie. ‘‘Did the morning go well for you, Daughtie?’’

  Daughtie nodded as they walked down the street at a brisk pace. ‘‘I think I’m going to be much happier, but it will take time to become proficient. It is quieter, and for that I am grateful. I’ll give you all the details tonight,’’ she promised.

  Bella was pleased by Daughtie’s enthusiasm. Perhaps they could visit with Miss Addie together this evening. Daughtie’s new position could prove an interesting topic to keep Miss Addie’s thoughts on something other than John Farnsworth’s absence, Bella decided.

  Virginia, appearing even more fraught than she had a half hour earlier, stood beside Bella’s looms, awaiting her instructions. ‘‘Did you have a good breakfast?’’ Bella inquired, hoping to relieve the girl’s anxiety.

  ‘‘It was fine. I promise I’ll do my best, but I don’t remember anything you showed me, and I’ve been gone only a half hour.’’ The words tumbled from her lips as though she might forget them if she spoke slowly.

  Patiently, Bella once again instructed Virginia, methodically moving her through the weaving process, step by step, until the girl appeared to gain confidence. Two hours later, Bella motioned to Virginia to take charge of one loom. Standing close at hand, Bella supervised the girl’s every move. Her first attempt at threading the shuttle proved difficult, but she persevered, finally succeeding. Bella applauded her success, hoping the praise would bolster Virginia’s confidence. Unfortunately, she appeared to grow more distraught each time a thread broke or a snag appeared in the cloth, her forehead lined with deep creases.

  ‘‘You’re performing as well as any of the new hires,’’ Bella shouted.

  ‘‘I find that difficult to believe,’’ Virginia shouted in return.

  Bella hadn’t expected Virginia would believe her appraisal. The girl lacked self-confidence, and Bella wouldn’t change the girl’s level of assurance by speaking a few kind words. By midafternoon Mr. Kingman insisted on moving Virginia across the aisle. Bella didn’t argue, but for the remainder of the day she moved back and forth across the walkway, assisting Virginia while continuing to monitor her own machines, thankful it would soon be quitting time.

  Bella was tending her own looms when Virginia stopped her machine to insert a full bobbin. Bella watched as Virginia sucked a bobbin thread through her shuttle and placed it in the race box before pulling the handle of her machine, sending it into action. Without warning, the shuttle jumped out of the race and flew through the air.

  A piercing scream sliced through the humid atmosphere of the room. Bella turned in the direction of the deafening cry. Irene Duncan was on her knees as rivulets of blood cascaded down the side of her head and face. Virginia’s shuttle lay beside Irene.

  ‘‘You! Bring some clean rags for her head,’’ Mr. Kingman hollered as he rushed to Irene’s side. ‘‘The rest of you get back to work. You’re serving no good purpose standing around gawking.’’ He grabbed the shuttle from the floor. ‘‘Whom does this belong to?’’ he called out while holding the piece of wood and brass aloft.

  ‘‘It’s mine,’’ Virginia replied, her voice cracking with emotion. She retrieved the shuttle and dashed back down the row, her face as white as hoarfrost on a November morn. Not one of the other girls moved toward their looms.

  Instead, Bella walked to where Virginia stood and drew her close. She wanted to ease the girl’s obvious horror. ‘‘I’m sure Irene’s going to be fine. This isn’t the first time a flying shuttle has hit an operative, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.’’

  ‘‘That’s for certain,’’ another girl said as the other operatives murmured their agreement.

  ‘‘Until they let us operate these machines at a safe speed, one where we can ensure quality and safety, there are going to be injuries,’’ Bella replied, raising her voice in order to be heard above the clanging tower bell. ‘‘It seems the owners care little about anything but a quick profit.’’

  ‘‘That’s likely true, Bella, but we’re here because we need the money, and I don’t think the Boston Associates are much interested in what a bunch of girls think,’’ another operative responded as they made their way out the door and began descending the winding staircase.

  Bella nodded. She knew that come tomorrow morning, the machines would run at the same rapid pace as they had today. Yet the Associates’ unwillingness to make changes didn’t mean the men were right. In fact, Bella was certain they were wrong—dead wrong.

  Daughtie rushed to meet Bella at the bottom of the steps. ‘‘Who was that Mr. Kingman carried down the stairs?’’

  ‘‘Irene Duncan,’’ Virginia lamented. ‘‘She’s my first victim.’’

  Daughtie grinned at Bella. ‘‘I think you’re overstating just a bit. I mean, it’s not as though you set out to intentionally harm her, Virginia. Accidents occur frequently in the Appleton—I’m sure you’ve had your share on the spinning floor, haven’t you?’’

  ‘‘Well, yes, but I didn’t cause any of those.’’

  ‘‘Had Irene’s shuttle jumped out of the race and hit you, would you think she had planned to harm you?’’ Bella asked.

  ‘‘Of course not,’’ Virginia replied.

  ‘‘Well, then, why would you decide Irene, or anyone else, would consider you some sort of villain? Stop condemning yourself for the accident. Instead, offer your apologies and then do something to show your concern for Irene’s welfare. If she’s unable to immediately return to work, seek out girls who are willing to operate her looms so that she doesn’t lose her pay, offer to perform her errands, or offer to wash the clothing she was wearing at the time of the accident. She’ll be grateful, and it will ease your feelings of guilt and helplessness,’’ Bella suggested.

  Virginia stared at her wide-eyed. ‘‘You’re very wise, Bella. I’ll go to her boardinghouse right now.’’

  ‘‘Perhaps you ought to eat supper first and then go visiting,’’ Bella offered.

  ‘‘I’ll do that, and I’ll see you tomorrow morning at first bell,’’ she added, rushing off toward her own boardinghouse.

  Daughtie linked arms with Bella. ‘‘You are very wise, Bella. You gave her good counsel. The Sisters would be proud.’’
/>   ‘‘It’s the Lord I’m trying to please, Daughtie, not the Sisters at Canterbury.’’

  ‘‘I know, I know, and I’m sure He’s pleased, also,’’ Daughtie said. ‘‘Come along. I’m hungry and I can’t wait to tell you about my day.’’

  When supper was over and the dishes washed, Miss Addie made her way back into the dining room, where Bella and Daughtie sat visiting. She carried a tray with a teapot and three cups. ‘‘I thought we could have a cup of tea while we visit,’’ she suggested. ‘‘Would you like to join me in my sitting room?’’

  ‘‘Yes,’’ the girls agreed in unison.

  Miss Addie poured and served each of the girls, then stirred a bit of cream and sugar into her own cup before leaning back in her chair. ‘‘I hear you have a new position in the dressing room, Daughtie. I would enjoy hearing what you do. I’ve visited the mill on only one occasion and only got as far as the counting room. It’s difficult for me to imagine what your workday must be like.’’

  ‘‘My workday has gotten much better, thanks to Bella. She was offered the position first but turned it down. I think she would have accepted had it not been for me,’’ Daughtie said to Miss Addie in a conspiratorial tone.

  Addie winked at Daughtie and then gave Bella a warm smile. ‘‘I’m sure Bella would be willing to give up almost anything to make certain you’re happy, Daughtie.’’

  ‘‘Enough! Enough!’’ Bella protested. ‘‘Tell us about your day.’’

  ‘‘As you’re well aware, Bella, where I now work is much quieter than the weaving or spinning floors, and it’s airier, too. Of course, there are fewer girls on the floor, which helps, also. Today was Nancy Everhardt’s last day. They told her she was to train me for the full day. Can you imagine? She was very patient and kind.’’

  ‘‘And I’m sure you were an exceptional student,’’ Miss Addie interjected.

  Daughtie smiled at the compliment. ‘‘The dressers with their frames are on one side of the room to ensure the yarn is properly sized and dried before being wound onto the take-up beam, which is a job I don’t think I would enjoy. But once they have the warp threads on the beam, the beam is moved to the drawing-in girl. One by one, the warp threads are drawn through the harness and reed with a long metal hook before the beam is delivered to the girls in the weaving room.’’

  Addie appeared surprised. ‘‘You pull each thread by hand? I thought everything was done by machine.’’

  Daughtie’s face shone with a bright smile. ‘‘Praise be, they’ve not yet developed a machine to perform this task, Miss Addie.’’

  Bella considered Daughtie’s explanation. ‘‘So if I understand correctly, you sit on a stool or chair all day long, using a metal hook to pull the individual threads through the weaver’s beam?’’

  ‘‘That’s right,’’ Daughtie said in a pleased voice.

  ‘‘Then I’m glad you have the job. I think after one day, my back would ache from leaning and reaching through to pull the threads,’’ Bella said.

  ‘‘No, Bella. It’s much better than standing at those noisy, monstrous looms that threaten injury at every turn. The drawing room has no flying shuttles such as you experienced on your floor today.’’

  ‘‘What’s this? Another accident? Was anyone injured?’’ Miss Addie inquired, her eyes filled with concern.

  ‘‘Irene Duncan. I don’t think you know her,’’ Bella replied.

  ‘‘This morning I was training Daughtie’s replacement, Virginia Dane.’’ Bella continued with the story, explaining the unfolding events to Miss Addie.

  ‘‘These injuries concern me. Some time ago I discussed them with John, but he says they are a common occurrence when man and machine join forces. And what of Irene? Were her injuries serious?’’

  ‘‘She was terribly stunned by the blow, and her head was bleeding. Mr. Kingman took her to the doctor. I’m not certain if she’ll be well enough to return tomorrow, but I don’t expect to see her. But what of your day, Miss Addie? I hope it was peaceful.’’

  Addie poured another cup of tea. ‘‘Yes, it was a good day. I accomplished a great deal. I went into town—oh yes, and that reminds me, I saw a notice posted by Reverend Edson concerning the graded school system he’s proposing. There’s to be a meeting of the residents of Lowell concerning the proposal. Word about town is that Kirk Boott is strongly opposed to Reverend Edson’s plan and will be at the meeting to argue against the concept.’’

  Bella’s eyes sparkled with excitement. ‘‘We need to discuss this at our next meeting with the literary group. Having most of the girls attend the meeting could give the proposal a boost. I, for one, hope Kirk Boott doesn’t win this argument. Education is one of the necessities of a civilized society, and as citizens of Lowell, we need to support the best possible form of schooling—for both the boys and girls.’’

  Miss Addie listened attentively while nodding her agreement. ‘‘You make valid arguments, Bella, and I’m sure your comments would sway those who attend the meeting. Your eloquence is a testament to your excellent education.’’

  Bella gave her hostess a sheepish grin. ‘‘I’ve been pontificating again, haven’t I?’’

  Daughtie giggled. ‘‘That was Sister Phoebe’s favorite way to end a debate; she’d accuse Bella of pontificating and call a halt to further discussion,’’ Daughtie explained. ‘‘But the Society did provide us with superior schooling, didn’t it, Bella?’’

  ‘‘Yes, I’ll give you no argument on that issue. Fortunately for us, they value education for both men and women. They know it is through education a person can live a better life.’’

  Miss Addie gave her a thoughtful glance. ‘‘I’m sure I didn’t appreciate the education that was offered to me nearly as much as you girls do. And I certainly didn’t learn as much! But I believe the true path to a better life is achieved through drawing closer to God.’’

  Bella pondered the remark a moment before responding. ‘‘Let’s see,’’ she began, her index finger pushing a dimple into her chin. ‘‘Is education or the pursuit of God the true path to a better life? That would be quite a topic for debate,’’ she concluded.

  ‘‘I’m not so sure. Perhaps the topic is better suited for personal reflection and prayer than public debate,’’ Addie responded.

  ‘‘I believe you’re right, Miss Addie,’’ Bella replied, glancing toward the mantel clock above the fireplace. ‘‘The hour is growing late—it’s almost ten o’clock. I suppose we’d best go upstairs and prepare for bed,’’ Bella said as she stifled a yawn.

  ‘‘Oh, I’ve nearly forgotten to tell you about Clara,’’ Daughtie said, suddenly sounding very excited.

  ‘‘The little doffer whose fingers were broken in the machinery?’’ Addie questioned.

  ‘‘Yes. Her mother works just down the aisle from me. She said that Clara has recovered nicely. She may have a crooked index finger, but she seems to be able to use her hand without any trouble.’’

  ‘‘That’s wonderful news!’’ Bella declared. ‘‘I’ve wondered what became of her. No one ever likes to mention the accidents or even the recoveries.’’

  ‘‘Well, hopefully there will be no more accidents for a while,’’ Addie said as she gathered the teacups, placing them back on the tray. ‘‘I’ve enjoyed our time together,’’ she added, picking up the tea tray and following the girls toward the door.

  Bella stopped and glanced over her shoulder. ‘‘Have you seen Mrs. Arnold lately, Miss Addie?’’

  Addie beamed. ‘‘Why, yes, I saw her just this morning. She was outdoors with the baby, and what a darling child she is—smiles at everything and has lots of wispy dark hair.’’

  ‘‘Did Mrs. Arnold appear content?’’

  ‘‘She appeared quite happy. Why do you ask?’’

  ‘‘Oh, nothing . . . just curious,’’ Bella replied. ‘‘Sleep well, Miss Addie,’’ she said with a wave of her hand.

  ‘‘And you girls do the same,’’ she replied.

>   The bed that evening seemed lumpy and the gentle snores of the sleeping girls louder than usual. The stale air hung heavy with an insufferable dampness, and Bella could not sleep. She tossed and turned, but sleep would not come. Miss Addie’s words flitted through her mind. Were her good works not considered a means of drawing closer to God? Did she place too little emphasis on her relationship with Him? But wasn’t helping others meet their full potential a godly thing to do? After all, relationships required hard work and commitment, and she had tried that with her father. She had longed for him to love her, but her efforts had been met with his rejection. If her flesh-and-blood father wasn’t interested in her presence, how could Almighty God desire a relationship with her?

  Her eyes fluttered closed. She lay silent, drifting to sleep when a still voice whispered to her heart, If you will but seek me, I will be your constant companion. I loved you enough to die for you—I will not turn away.

  CHAPTER 19

  Hugh Cummiskey hailed greetings to several Irishmen, his bass voice resonating throughout the interior walls that now formed the outer shell of the Catholic church. The boisterous sound caused Liam to turn from his work and sit back on his haunches. He squinted against the filtering sunlight in an effort to identify the man at Hugh’s side.

  ‘‘There you are, my boy,’’ Hugh shouted. ‘‘I’ve brought someone to meet you. This here’s Mr. Matthew Cheever, Kirk Boott’s second-in-command,’’ he continued while pointing a thumb toward Matthew. ‘‘Seems Mr. Cheever and Mr. Boott saw a bit of your handiwork when they last visited Boston.’’

  Liam turned his gaze toward Matthew and swiped one hand on his jacket before reaching out to shake Matthew’s extended hand. ‘‘For sure? And where was that?’’

  Matthew grasped Liam’s hand in a firm shake. ‘‘At the home of J. P. Green. He spoke highly of you,’’ Matthew replied. ‘‘But had he not said a word, your craftsmanship would have spoken for itself. In fact, I’m amazed that someone with your talent was willing to leave Boston. I’m sure there’s more than enough work to keep you busy among the wealthy Beacon Hill residents.’’