A Fragile Design

by Tracie Peterson

  Mrs. Flynn gave her husband a loving pat. ‘‘Ya’ve given me a bit o’ cheer every day since I married ya,’’ she replied, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

  Supper with the Flynns reminded Liam of his parents’ home in Ireland. His parents had always enjoyed a special relationship, one that he hoped to emulate with a wife of his own someday. Not that he was apt to soon find a wife. Liam wanted a wife, all right. He just didn’t want to spend time finding her, which was a matter that hadn’t gone unnoticed by Mrs. Flynn from the first day of his arrival. She had now taken it upon herself to invite a different young lady for a cup of tea several evenings during the week. When a knock sounded at the door, Mr. Flynn and Liam would exchange a wink as they awaited a view of Mrs. Flynn’s latest candidate.

  ‘‘Do tell Thomas about that piece in the paper, Liam,’’ Mrs. Flynn urged.

  ‘‘Seems the Corporation is finally concerned about those missing girls. They’ve run an ad listin’ their names and asked for anyone with information to talk to the police. They’re even offerin’ a reward.’’

  ‘‘Well, I’m pleased to hear someone’s finally takin’ this seriously,’’ Thomas replied. ‘‘I hope the reward will loosen a few tongues. Doesn’t seem possible that all these girls could disappear without somebody seeing or hearing somethin’,’’ he said, pushing away from the table and picking up his pipe.

  Liam joined Mr. Flynn in front of the fire, retrieving the paper and once again reading over the names of the girls. Leaning his head back against the chair, he closed his eyes and gave thought to where he might have read those names before. Without warning, he jumped up from his chair.

  ‘‘What’s the matter, boy? Ya ’bout scared the life out of me,’’ Mr. Flynn exclaimed.

  ‘‘I’m sorry. I happened to think of somethin’. Excuse me, would ya?’’

  Liam didn’t wait for an answer before taking the few steps to the cordoned-off area where he slept. He opened the small trunk and pulled out the sheaf of papers he’d salvaged from J. P. Green’s fireplace months ago, the ones containing names he’d been unable to make sense of. Slowly, he ran his finger down the column of names, comparing them to the list in the newspaper. They matched—at least the names of the girls who’d been missing since before he’d snatched the papers from the fireplace. Beside each name was a column listing an amount of money. What could it mean? He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the page and permitting his memory to carry him back to the home of J. P. Green.

  Liam remembered the opulent house with its serpentine-shaped tables of mahogany, intricately carved mirrors, elaborate tapestries, and highly wrought wool carpets. And then he remembered something else. He’d been working late one evening while Mr. Green’s family was away visiting relatives. There had been a noisy upheaval in the foyer when two coarsesounding men had come seeking Mr. Green. Before Green finally got them out of the house, there’d been a terrible commotion.

  Immediately after hearing the front door close, Mr. Green had come into the library where Liam was working and questioned him, asking if the ruckus had disturbed him. Liam lied and said he’d disregarded the matter and assumed it was some of Green’s associates who were in their cups. Green appeared satisfied by Liam’s response and said nothing further. But Liam had heard a portion of the argument. He’d heard Green threaten to horsewhip the men if they ever brought another girl to his home. And he’d heard one of the men repeating over and over that he was afraid they’d been followed. Green had finally screamed at the man to shut up, and when the men were finally quiet, he’d instructed them to take the girl down to the warehouse at the wharf.

  The conversation Liam had overheard was now taking on a frightening new meaning. In spite of the chill in the house, beads of sweat formed across Liam’s forehead and upper lip. Could J. P. Green possibly be involved in abducting young women and selling them? Surely not! And yet, like a complex puzzle, the pieces were now coming together to form a picture, a horrifying mosaic of unspeakable crimes.

  He must talk to someone, Liam decided—someone he could trust. Perhaps Hugh Cummiskey. But what could Cummiskey do about the likes of J. P. Green? This matter needed the attention of someone who wielded power in the community. Kirk Boott or . . . perhaps Matthew Cheever. Yes, that was it! He’d talk to Matthew Cheever—after all, he had talked to him several times since that day at the bridge. Each time had given him more reason to believe that Matthew was sincere and honest when he said that all men were equal in the eyes of God and that because of this, Matthew worked to make sure they were equal in his sight, as well. Perhaps Matthew had even been responsible for the advertisement in the paper. Yes, Liam felt he could trust Matthew with this information. He didn’t seem the type to hide the details of a crime simply because one of his own social class was responsible.

  Liam gathered the remainder of the papers from his trunk and grabbed his coat from the peg near his chest. ‘‘I’ll be goin’ out for a while,’’ he announced to the Flynns as he shoved the papers inside his jacket.

  ‘‘Tomorrow’s a workday—don’t tip too many or ya’ll be havin’ a big head come mornin’,’’ Mr. Flynn replied with a laugh.

  ‘‘Right you are,’’ Liam called over his shoulder as he hurried out of the house with purpose in his step, his collar pulled high around his neck to ward off the damp chill in the fall evening air. He approached the Cheever house with uncertainty. What would Matthew Cheever think of a lowly Irish stonemason calling at his home?

  ‘‘I’ll soon find out,’’ he murmured, running up the front steps and knocking on the door.

  Matthew Cheever answered the door, a smile on his face as he greeted Liam. ‘‘What a surprise. Come in, Liam,’’ he offered, leading the way into the parlor. ‘‘Let me take your coat.’’

  Liam reached inside his jacket and pulled out the folded papers before removing his coat. ‘‘I hope I’m not interruptin’ ya.’’

  ‘‘Not at all. In fact, my wife has gone to visit my mother this evening, and I had planned to do a bit of reading. The opportunity to visit with you will be much more enjoyable, I’m sure.’’

  Liam gave him a tired smile. ‘‘I’m not certain it will be enjoyable, but I didn’t know who else to come to.’’

  ‘‘This sounds intriguing. I thought you’d come to discuss religious beliefs. Am I wrong?’’

  Liam unfolded the sheaf of papers and pressed them flat with his hand. ‘‘I’m afraid so. I’ve come to talk to you about these.’’

  ‘‘Perhaps we should sit at the table. It may be easier if we can spread out your papers,’’ Matthew suggested.

  Liam separated and stacked the papers on the ornately carved mahogany table. ‘‘What I’ve got here are papers that I retrieved from J. P. Green’s fireplace when I was workin’ at his home,’’ Liam stated. ‘‘Coming from a people who can’t afford to waste anythin’, I noticed only one side of the paper had been used. I decided I could use the other side for writin’ letters home, so I removed the papers and put them in me satchel.’’

  Matthew’s eyebrows knit together in obvious confusion.

  ‘‘I’m tellin’ you this only so ya’ll understand that I didn’t steal the papers—they were in the fireplace, obviously discarded.’’

  ‘‘Go on,’’ Matthew encouraged.

  ‘‘I never looked at the papers until the day I moved in with the Flynns—ya may recall that’s the day after you visited the church with Hugh Cummiskey.’’

  ‘‘Yes, I remember,’’ Matthew replied.

  ‘‘In goin’ over the papers and the figures listed there, I discovered that Mr. Green has been keeping two sets of books. This set,’’ he said, pointing to one stack of papers, ‘‘that shows the actual amount of money received by Appleton & Green and this one,’’ he continued, while pointing to another stack of papers, ‘‘that shows the company makin’ much less money. The differ- ence between the two is what he’s deposited in this account, which appears to be in his name only. I
t appears as if he’s falsifyin’ the records and stealin’ money from the shippin’ business.’’

  Liam glanced at Matthew, hoping to gauge his reaction to the revelation. He didn’t want to proceed if Mr. Cheever appeared in any way affronted by the information. Matthew didn’t appear upset. In fact, he was carefully studying the papers and nodding his head.

  Finally he looked at Liam. ‘‘Several months ago Nathan Appleton talked to Kirk and me when we were in Boston. He expressed some concern that J. P. might be stealing from the company. He was certain it had to be making more money than J. P. was depositing into the business account. I fear his suspicions are not only correct but that the thievery has been going on much longer than even he suspected. Having these papers gives me pause to wonder about something else, however,’’ Matthew said, a thoughtful look etched upon his face.

  ‘‘What’s that?’’ Liam inquired.

  ‘‘J. P. told us about a robbery at his home. He appeared unduly upset and spoke of missing papers of great importance. He went so far as to say it would be disastrous for him if the papers fell into the wrong hands. I’d wager these are the papers that concerned him.’’

  Liam felt as though he’d taken a strong blow to the stomach. ‘‘Ya think I robbed Mr. Green? Is that what ya’re sayin’?’’

  Matthew appeared startled by Liam’s words. ‘‘No, of course not. If you had stolen from Mr. Green, you wouldn’t have come here tonight. Besides, Liam, I think too highly of you to immediately assume you would ever consider doing such a thing. I’d guess that the thief pulled the valuables from the safe, considered the papers of no value, and tossed them in the fireplace. You went to work the next morning and, seeing the papers, assumed Mr. Green had discarded them and placed them in your satchel.’’

  ‘‘What ya’ve said makes sense. However, I’m guessin’ that Mr. Green is even more concerned about these papers than the ones I’ve already shown you,’’ Liam said, picking up the remaining sheets. ‘‘I happened upon an old newspaper this evenin’ and noticed an ad for the missing girls. I was pleased to see someone was finally taking their disappearance seriously.’’

  Matthew nodded. ‘‘The Corporation agreed to pay for the ad. I had hoped it would yield some information. Unfortunately, it’s done us no good thus far.’’

  ‘‘Until now,’’ Liam replied, handing the papers to Matthew. He watched while Matthew read one column and then another until at last he finished.

  Matthew gave Liam a steely gaze. ‘‘So much for my trip to New Hampshire. Who else have you told about this?’’ he demanded.

  CHAPTER 33

  ‘‘Have you decided?’’ Bella asked as she plopped down on the bed beside Daughtie. ‘‘We leave in the morning, and you’ll need to pack if you’re going to return.’’

  ‘‘I’ve decided I’m going to remain in Lowell,’’ Daughtie triumphantly announced.

  Bella reached around her friend’s shoulder, pulling her into a warm hug. ‘‘I’m so glad. I hope it’s because you truly want to stay and not because you fear Eldress Phoebe.’’

  ‘‘I must admit that the thought of a confrontation with some of the Sisters was a bit of a deterrent,’’ Daughtie said, giving a nervous giggle. ‘‘I’ve prayed very hard about my decision, Bella, and I believe I’m supposed to stay here. Not that I received a startling revelation like some members of the Society, but I’ve felt a kind of tugging in my heart as I’ve prayed. I don’t seem to receive as much clarity as some of the Sisters, but then, I never did.’’

  ‘‘That doesn’t mean God isn’t leading you or answering your prayers, Daughtie. I believe He speaks to each of us in different ways.’’

  Daughtie gave her a halfhearted smile. ‘‘Do you think the Sisters will treat you awfully?’’ Her voice was a mixture of sadness and fear.

  ‘‘I doubt they’ll be pleased to see me, but I’ve prayed God will give me the strength to face them so that I may overcome my fears. Besides, Mrs. Cheever needs me, and I can’t bring myself to tell her I won’t help by going with her.’’

  Daughtie nodded. ‘‘Will you tell Sister Mercy I send my love to her?’’

  ‘‘You know I will. She’s the only one I want to see.’’

  ‘‘What about your father? Will you not make an effort to talk to him?’’

  Bella simply shook her head. ‘‘Let’s go downstairs. I promised Miss Addie I’d visit her before I went to bed.’’

  The two girls bounded down the stairs, and Bella tapped on the door as they walked into her parlor. The older lady sat at her desk staring intently at a sheet of paper lying before her. She glanced up as Bella and Daughtie entered the room and clapped her hands in obvious delight.

  ‘‘Oh, good,’’ she exclaimed. ‘‘You’ve saved me from writing a letter. Come sit down,’’ she said, beckoning them farther into the room. ‘‘Are you prepared for your journey? I do wish I were going along.’’

  ‘‘I wish I could stay here and you could accompany the Cheevers. I dread going back to Canterbury.’’

  ‘‘You’ll do just fine. Daughtie and I will be praying for you the whole time. You’ll be back in no time at all. It will be a pleasant diversion, especially since Taylor is going along.’’

  ‘‘What? Why would you ever think such a thing? Taylor has no interest in any of this,’’ Bella replied.

  ‘‘You haven’t talked to Lilly, have you?’’

  Bella shook her head back and forth. ‘‘No.’’

  ‘‘I called on her today. I wanted to wish her well on the journey,’’ Addie explained. ‘‘While we were having tea, Lilly told me that Matthew has decided to remain in Lowell. It seems he’s had an unexpected problem arise within the Corporation and he can’t leave Lowell at this time. He suggested they wait until after the baby is born and then make the trip, but Lilly wouldn’t hear of it. Finally he agreed to find someone who would drive the carriage and escort you and Lilly to Canterbury.’’

  Bella sank back in her chair. She had forgiven Taylor for his improprieties, but she didn’t want him as her escort on the trip to Canterbury. The choice of a young single man accompanying them would certainly create a flurry among the Shakers and give them yet another reason to find fault with her. She found it impossible to concentrate on Miss Addie’s chattering and finally asked to be excused, saying she must get a good night’s sleep.

  Sleep, however, did not come easily. When the first bell sounded the next morning, she forced herself out of bed and began preparations for the day. The other girls were already working at the mill when a knock sounded at the front door. Bella’s breath caught in her throat as she walked to the hallway to answer the knock. Perhaps Mr. Cheever’s problem had been solved and when she opened the door he would be standing there to greet her . . . but he wasn’t.

  The journey was long and tiring for Lilly, with her condition necessitating frequent stops as they traversed the winding, bumpy roads to Canterbury, yet Taylor remained patient and thoughtful. Even when Lilly insisted they seek lodging for the night by midafternoon, Taylor had pleasantly acquiesced. Throughout the journey, Bella had critically observed his behavior, expecting to see him revert to his caddish manners. At the very least, she had anticipated he would attempt to kiss or embrace her when they were alone, but surprisingly, he had done neither. Instead, he had exhibited the epitome of gentlemanly behavior. Perhaps Taylor’s declaration that he had changed his ways was true. But then again, she decided, perhaps he was merely using this trip to his advantage and would return to his old habits when she least expected it.

  The inn they chose was small but clean. Lilly gave Taylor money and had him arrange for two rooms. When he returned to help with the luggage, Lilly told them both she intended to lie down for an hour or two. Taylor agreed it was a good idea, but Bella thought otherwise. She would be sharing a room with Lilly and she wasn’t in the leastwise prepared to nap. That meant that other than sitting quietly in the room, Bella would have to find some other diversion for herself
while Lilly slept.

  Deciding a walk might be in order, Bella saw to Lilly but then decided this might be an excellent opportunity to broach the subject of Thaddeus Arnold.

  ‘‘If it wouldn’t overly tax you, Mrs. Cheever, I was wondering if I might discuss a matter with you. I promise to be brief,’’ Bella quickly added.

  Lilly lowered herself onto the bed. ‘‘If you don’t mind if I lie down while you talk; my back is aching,’’ she said while massaging her lower back in small circular motions.

  Bella plumped one of the pillows. ‘‘Of course not. Please make yourself comfortable.’’

  Lilly leaned back. ‘‘Ah, this feels much better.’’ She closed her eyes. ‘‘I won’t fall asleep until you finish talking. Sit down here on the side of the bed and tell me what concerns you.’’

  Bella found it a bit discomfiting to talk to someone whose eyes were closed but decided she’d best seize this chance. It might be a long time before another opportunity would present itself. ‘‘Well, you may recall my friend Ruth, the one who is missing?’’

  ‘‘Mm-hmm,’’ Lilly murmured. ‘‘I’m hoping she’ll be safe and sound by the time we get home.’’

  ‘‘As am I,’’ Bella replied. ‘‘Anyway, the night Ruth disappeared I awakened. I thought I was having a nightmare, and although I couldn’t remember what occurred in the dream, I remembered hearing noises. As it turned out, it was those noises and not my dreams that awakened me. The noises were coming from next door—at the Arnolds’.’’

  Lilly’s eyes opened wide. ‘‘What kind of noises?’’ she inquired, her full attention now riveted upon Bella.

  ‘‘Thumping, slapping, and the sounds of a woman crying. Then I heard the muffled sounds of a man’s voice telling the woman to be quiet. I’m quite sure it was Mr. Arnold. However, Ruth’s disappearance drew my attention away from the happen- ings next door. But I felt I had to do something to help Mrs. Arnold before she or the little girl suffered injury.’’