Lilly followed along obediently, listening intently as the older woman explained that the largest meal of the day was served at noon and that the girls would arrive at five minutes past the hour. “The food must be on the table when they arrive. They have only half an hour to get from the mill, eat their meal, and return. Their schedule demands that the boardinghouse run smoothly in order for them to eat and return to work on time. I do have one little doffer who helps serve—I don’t know what I would have done without her—but there’s still more work than I can manage. I’m hoping that once I get all the beds filled, I’ll be able to hire someone to help a little more, especially with the meals. But for now, I’m on my own.”
“This shouldn’t be much different from cooking for the farmhands during harvest,” Lilly replied. “How many are you feeding?”
Addie hesitated a moment. “Fifteen, including us.”
Lilly nodded. “That shouldn’t be too hard. Show me what you’ve already done.”
Two hours later the pealing of the tower bell that had tolled over the city for the past five years announced that midday had arrived. Lilly placed the last bowl of food on the table as the front door flew open. Twelve young women had soon crowded their way into the dining room, with chairs scraping, silverware clanking, and voices competing to be heard above each other as they called out for bowls or plates to be passed. The noise was deafening after the preceding hours of quiet camaraderie in the kitchen with Miss Addie. For a moment, Lilly found herself staring at the group of girls. Instead of exhibiting the manners of genteel young ladies, the girls wolfed down the meal with little attention to etiquette or polite conversation. There was no time for such social amenities here.
“This is so-o-o good,” one of the younger girls commented, her mouth still full of rice pudding. “You’ve been holding out on us, Miss Addie. This is the best meal I’ve had in ages!”
Several others nodded in agreement and one took a moment to ask, “How’d you do this, Miss Addie?”
All gazes were fixed on the older woman, some faces filled with amazement, some with doubt, and some with what appeared to be undying devotion. “Save your praises. It wasn’t my doing; I merely helped. It’s our new boarder you have to thank. Meet Lilly Armbruster.”
“You’ve hired a cook? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?” Prudence Holtmeyer inquired.
“Indeed, it is one of my duties, but I’m hoping to become more skilled, and Lilly has agreed to help. However . . .”
Before she had completed her explanation, the girls were pushing their chairs away from the table, grabbing their cloaks and bonnets, and rushing toward the door. Several took an extra moment for one last bite of the rice pudding before scurrying off. Minutes later, all was once again silent. Lilly glanced over the table in amazement, for she’d never seen anything like it. Even the farmhands that she and her mother had cooked for took longer to relax and eat the noon meal. These girls were like a colony of locusts swarming in, devouring everything in their path, and moving on. There was one difference, however: the girls would be returning in only a few short hours to repeat the routine.
“I was certain we’d prepared too much food,” Lilly commented to herself. She’d thought Miss Addie a bit touched when she’d continued to pull food from the cupboards as they prepared the noon meal.
“Oh, dear me no,” Addie replied, already reaching for two empty serving bowls. “The work is terribly hard. They build a powerful appetite, which is why they grow most discontent when their meals are tasteless or ill-prepared.”
Lilly thought of the hard work and tried to imagine herself joining the girls at such large meals. The idea struck her as almost amusing. There was no possible way she could ever eat as much food as those girls had eaten. Why, her waist would get as thick as . . . as thick as Miss Addie’s! Matthew had always liked her tiny waist.
Matthew! How he seemed to plague her mind at the most awkward of times. Lilly knew she wouldn’t mind it half so much if the ache in her heart wasn’t yet so pronounced. I cannot allow myself these feelings, she told herself, pushing aside the chance to relive her girlhood dreams of becoming Matthew’s wife. There was no sense in remembering the ivory satin wedding gown her mother had promised to make. There was no need to dwell on the way her heart fluttered whenever Matthew flashed her a smile. Lilly sighed and forced her attention back to the job at hand.
Addie seemed not to notice Lilly’s contemplation. Already she was humming a tune and making order out of the mess. “I’ll clear the table and wash the dishes. You go upstairs and unpack. There’s fresh water in the pitcher so feel free to freshen up. I’m sure someone as pretty as you is used to being able to see to her appearance, but around here, you have to grab what opportunity presents itself. When you’ve finished, we can decide about supper.”
“Perhaps we should plan the menu first. It doesn’t appear there’s much bread remaining. I’ll need to start now if it’s to be ready in time for supper. By the way, what time is supper?”
“The girls will be home at six-thirty. The lighting up doesn’t occur until September 21. Then supper will be later, not until seven o’clock,” Miss Addie explained.
“The lighting up?”
Miss Addie smiled. “Mercy, but you have a lot to learn. September 21 marks the date when the winter hours begin. Work commences a half hour later in the morning, but you make up for it by working a half hour later in the evening. Folks call it the lighting up because it’s dark in the morning when you go to work and dark in the evening when you return home—the lamps become necessary both morning and evening. Then, come March 21, there’s what they call the blowing out. The days start becoming longer once again and the lamps aren’t needed so much.”
Lilly nodded and reached for one of the dishes. She scraped the remnants of dinner from the serving platters into an empty serving bowl. “Seems like a sensible plan.” But Lilly reminded herself that if her own plan went well, the mills wouldn’t even be around come March 21.
Miss Addie clucked in agreement as she took hold of Lilly’s thin wrist. “Oh, but that’s not the best part. Sit yourself down for a minute while I tell you.”
Lilly seated herself on one of the dining room chairs while Miss Addie poured a cup of tea, added several spoons of sugar, and began to vigorously stir. After taking a sip of the brew, the older woman leaned forward and spoke in a hushed tone. “The very best part is the balls. There’s a Lighting Up Ball and Blowing Out Ball. Very, very fancy, I might add. Not like the parties I knew in Boston, mind you, but very tastefully done for a town the size of Lowell.”
Lilly began to rise, but when Miss Addie motioned her down, Lilly plopped back into the chair. “I really should start clearing off the dishes, Miss Addie. I’m not interested in balls or parties, but I do thank you for explaining the lighting up.”
“Well, you may not be interested right now, but you will be come the twenty-first day of September. Attending the ball is a must for all the mill girls. It’s required. Well, perhaps expected is a better word. Those two balls are the only time when there’s socializing among all the people who work at the mills. Why, the supervisors dance with all the girls, even the little doffers. Those are the little girls who sometimes hire on for lesser jobs like helping in the boardinghouses or removing empty bobbins in the mills.”
“Children work in the mills?” Lilly asked in stunned disbelief.
“Well, the doffers don’t work all that much. No more than fifteen minutes or so at a time. They’re usually the daughters of women who work there, and they have plenty of playtime and still attend school. They benefit from the money they earn, for usually it helps their family a great deal.”
“Still, they’re just children. They shouldn’t have to work in the mills.” I shouldn’t have to work there, either, Lilly thought.
“Oh, don’t you concern yourself about it.” Addie continued, “Let me finish telling you about the balls. They’re quite the event. Mr. Boott makes an appear
ance, along with some of the other Boston Associates. The girls look forward to those two dates all year long. You mark my words—after you’ve listened to the girls talk about the balls, you’ll be ready to don your prettiest dress and dancing slippers when the time comes.”
Miss Addie obviously expected her to become smitten by the whole affair. Any further denial of interest was only going to cause additional delay in the cleaning-up process, so hopefully a neutral answer would suffice. “We’ll see, Miss Addie. We’ll see.”
Addie nodded and rose from her chair. Each of the women skillfully balanced an armload of dirty plates and bowls and headed toward the kitchen. While Addie put the dishes to soak, Lilly began to take stock of the larder and what they might prepare for supper. Her thoughts ran rampant.
I’m actually here. Here, where God can use me best, Lilly reasoned. Although she had struggled in her spiritual walk, even going so far as to give up her Bible readings and church, Lilly knew God had a purpose in bringing her here to the mills. He would use her to make right the very thing that had brought such tragedy to her family.
Then everything shall be better, Lilly assured herself. I will find a way to drive the mills out of Lowell, and God will reward me and bless my life. Lilly looked over her shoulder, almost fearful she’d spoken her thoughts aloud. Addie was nowhere in sight.
Lilly breathed a sigh of relief to find herself alone. Addie would never understand Lilly’s feelings. Addie didn’t know what it was to have the Association come in and destroy the land she’d come to love—demolish her father’s hopes—steal her inheritance. Had Lilly truly not felt led of God to come here to the mills, there was no telling what might have become of her. Women without protectors suffered greatly.
Well, it is certain the mills will offer me no protection, Lilly reasoned. She picked up a bag of flour and balanced this with a can of lard. “I can do this,” she whispered. “I can do whatever I have to, to make it all right again.”
“Did you say something, my dear?” Addie questioned, popping into the room.
Lilly smiled. “I was just saying that I’ve found the ingredients to make bread. Come and I’ll show you what’s to be done.”
Scooping heaping cups of flour into a bowl, Lilly then began measuring lard and scalding milk. “Why in the world did you ever take this position if you don’t know how to cook, Miss Addie?” she inquired while continuing to prepare the ingredients for a half dozen loaves of bread.
Addie wiped her hands on her apron, then blotted the hem against her perspiring neck. “It’s a long story. Suffice it to say, our father managed to die while owing more creditors in Boston than either my sister or I knew existed. Mintie and I were reared in a family of privilege and position—Boston society,” she explained proudly. “But when the Judge—that’s what we always called our father—died, the creditors came calling, and there was no stopping them until we’d sold our home and almost all of our belongings. Suddenly Mintie and I found ourselves not only penniless but friendless. People of class want nothing to do with you once you’ve lost everything. We had to find some way to support ourselves, and we read in the newspaper that they needed boardinghouse keepers, as the mills were expanding. Of course, the Judge had once been against the mills. He figured them to be full of spies. In fact, he wouldn’t have anything to do with them.”
“Would that more men were like him,” Lilly muttered.
Addie didn’t seem to hear the remark and continued with her explanation. “Mintie sent a letter of inquiry to Tracy Jackson, one of the Boston Associates. He and the Judge had been friends, and I think he took pity on us. In any event, after receiving Mr. Jackson’s reply, Mintie decided it was a magnificent opportunity for us to take employment here. She said it would be a job of great virtue for two spinsters. She’s very practical, you know.” Then with a twinkle in her eye, the older woman added in a hushed, almost ominous tone, “She also thought it a good way to keep an eye out for British spies.”
Lilly couldn’t help but giggle. The very thought of anyone harboring such ideas was amusing. The war had been over for a very long time, and England was now considered an ally. How strange that Addie’s sister should still be worried over such a thing.
“During our years at home, Mintie was always in the kitchen helping cook and run the Judge’s household. Like I said, she’s very practical. She’s tried to help me with my cooking, but she has twenty men to cook, clean, and wash for in her own boardinghouse. So she’s busy all day and most of the evening,” Addie confided. “Sometimes that’s a relief and other times it leaves me quite lonely.”
A mixture of sorrow and pain lingered on Adelaide’s face. Lilly wondered if her memories of the past, mixed with her present failures at the boardinghouse, caused Miss Addie undo grief. “You don’t need to explain further, Miss Addie,” Lilly whispered, giving the older woman a reassuring smile. “I find myself in much the same predicament.”
Addie nodded and wiped away a stray tear that had managed to escape and roll down her plump cheek. “You’ll not have long to suffer, I’m sure. With your beauty, I don’t know how you’ve managed to remain single this long. You’ll no doubt be married before you’re even here a year. You’re such a pretty little thing, so young and full of life. Why, you’ve just begun to live. Now, Miss Mintie and I, that’s a different story. At our age, we don’t have men lining up at the door anxious to pledge their devotion.”
“Neither of you ever married?” Lilly blurted, immediately wishing she could take back the words as a look of sorrow once again returned to Addie’s face.
“I was betrothed years ago, but father insisted that I wait to marry until Mintie found a proper suitor. He argued that the eldest should marry first. Unfortunately, a proper suitor didn’t come along, and my young beau tired of waiting. Not that I blame him. He was quite a handsome man, my Charles, even if I do say so myself. We were well suited. Both of us enjoyed laughter and wanted lots of children. Last I heard, he and his wife had seven children and a multitude of grandchildren.” She hesitated for a moment and sighed. “Now, why don’t you tell me about all the beaux who must have come knocking on your door, Lilly. I’ll wager we don’t have enough hours remaining in the day for the telling of those tales.”
“Quite the contrary, Miss Addie. In fact, I’ve had only one beau; and much like your courtship with Charles, my relationship with Matthew Cheever was destined for failure.” She paused, transfixed for the briefest of moments. “But no matter,” she continued. “We’ve chosen our separate paths.” Silence hung in the room, creating an emptiness that needed to be filled, a void that too closely resembled her barren heart.
Chapter 2
Boston, Massachusetts
Matthew Cheever watched closely as Nathan Appleton glanced toward his wife at the end of the table. Appleton nodded his head and the couple rose in unison. “Shall we adjourn to the library, gentlemen? I believe there are cigars and a fine bottle of port that need our attention. Ladies, I’m certain my wife has some new piece of needlework or a book of poetry she wishes to discuss with you in the music room.”
The two groups took their respective cues, the men following Nathan to the library and the women trailing along behind Jasmine Appleton in customary fashion. The meal had been superb, but it was obvious the men now longed to be done with the formalities so that they could finally get to the business at hand—the real reason they had gathered: to report and discuss their successes and formulate their plans for the future. Men’s business. Aside from obvious social impropriety, their wives’ total inability to comprehend matters dealing with business forbade any interesting discussions at supper. They had managed a brief conversation regarding their good fortune in escaping the disastrous results of the depression that had devastated many of their friends. But with their money invested in the Lowell project, none of them had been adversely affected. When Jasmine realized her husband was discussing such a disturbing topic while their guests were being served crème brûlée, sh
e had lovingly chastised him and called a halt to their conversation.
“Finally, gentlemen,” Nathan remarked as he offered a humidor filled with an array of pungent imported cigars. The men stroked the tightly wound tubes of tobacco between their fingers, sniffing them the way their wives inhaled the sweet aroma of summer’s first rose. Finally, after much ceremony, each of them clipped off the cigar’s end and settled back to puff on the aromatic offering.
Matthew felt enthralled by the scene unfolding before him. It was difficult to believe that he could find himself among this group of influential men. Strange, he thought, how opportunities arise from the most unexpected circumstances.
“Listen and learn,” Kirk Boott instructed in a barely audible tone.
Matthew nodded, chiding himself for getting caught up in his own thoughts, even if only for a few moments.
“As I was saying at supper before my wife cut me short, we’ve been most fortunate, gentlemen. Many here in Boston have been suffering great losses, and I fear they will continue for at least the remainder of the year. Not a major depression, perhaps, but certainly those who have invested at the wrong time and in the wrong places have suffered dramatically. Fortunately for all of us,” Nathan commented, surveying the room filled with men, “we’ve experienced nothing but profit. Our project has been every bit the success we had anticipated.”
“That’s true enough, Nathan,” Tracy Jackson remarked, “and with the Appleton Mill opening just last month and three other mills slated for opening next year, we’ll see even greater profits in the years to come. Textiles will be our future and fortune. My only regret is that Francis didn’t live long enough to see his plan to fruition.”
“Agreed, Tracy, but your brother-in-law will never be forgotten. I can think of no greater honor we could have paid than to make the town his namesake.”
Daughter of the Loom (Bells of Lowell Book #1) Page 2
