“His affiliation with Mr. Boott and the Boston Associates.”
“Why, that makes no sense, child. A man who loves you is establishing himself in the business world, and you find fault with him?”
“Perhaps it makes no sense to you, Miss Addie, but it’s reason enough for me,” Lilly replied as she crimped the dough she’d placed atop one of the chicken potpies that now lined the worktable.
“Well, are you going to explain it to me?” Addie inquired while scooting forward on her chair.
“It’s a long story.”
Addie gave her a broad smile. “I’ve got nothing but time to listen while we’re fixing dinner, and I love to hear a good story.”
Lilly shook her head. There was no escaping this time. “It’s not such a good story. Matthew and I were friends throughout our growing-up years. You may recall I mentioned he once saved me from drowning in the Merrimack River the day Lewis held me over Pawtucket Falls.”
“That’s right! I do remember,” Addie agreed, her blue eyes sparkling at the realization.
“It wasn’t until the year before Matthew went off to Harvard that we pledged our love. Matthew talked of the day when he would be in charge of his family’s farm. Jonas, his older brother, had no interest in the land, but Matthew was like me—he had a desire to maintain his family’s acreage. I cherished the idea of marrying a man who would work the land and keep me close to family.
“Anyway, it was his final year at Harvard when he began to change. He had been involved in discussions regarding the industrialization of our country in his classes at Harvard, and he began talking about proper utilization of the land and how it could serve more people—things that were completely foreign to his earlier beliefs.
“Then on one of his visits home, he told me he was no longer interested in farming, that he had convinced his parents to sell their acreage and hoped our family would do the same and that it would be best for us to do so. He said my father’s health would soon prevent him from farming, and with Lewis’s obvious lack of interest in the property, it only made sense to sell.” Lilly looked away and tried to shake off the strangling sorrow that welled up in her heart.
“He had become a stranger to me. When my father resisted, someone wrote to Lewis telling him there was a good price to be had for our land. Needless to say, my brother returned home, and the land was sold. That was five years ago, in 1823.”
Confusion imprinted Addie’s plump face. “Five years ago? Where have you been since then?”
“On the farm, tending the orchards and caring for my father. The Associates knew they wouldn’t need our land until the mills began to expand, so the contract contained a clause that we could continue to cultivate and live on the land for five years. As the day for our departure grew nearer, my father’s health worsened. I believe he died of a broken heart. He had already lost my mother, and he couldn’t face the possibility of beginning a new life away from everything he held dear. He died a week before we were to vacate our homestead.
“Lewis arrived the day after my father was buried—he was detained in a game of cards with some gentlemen in Nashua, New Hampshire. It seems he was on a winning streak and couldn’t force himself away from the gaming table. Of course, he lost all of those winnings before he arrived back in East Chelmsford. Upon his appearance, he laid claim to the remaining gold pieces my father hadn’t already given him. He then proceeded to sell everything of value that remained in the house before he rode away. In all likelihood, he gambled away his remaining inheritance before the week had ended.”
Addie shook her head. “It appears that Lewis needs to be introduced to the Lord. Perhaps then he would change his ill-advised ways.”
Lilly shrugged her shoulders. “The only way that will happen is if there’s a revival in one of the taverns or brothels he frequents.”
The color heightened in Miss Addie’s cheeks as she shook her head again. “The Lord works in mysterious ways, Lilly. Don’t sell Him short.”
The corners of Lilly’s mouth turned upward and formed a soft smile. “I would never do that, but I believe Lewis has already committed his soul. Unfortunately, not to God.”
“I’ve seen some hardhearted characters change their ways. Perhaps we should pick a special time each day and pray for him,” Addie offered with a sense of excitement filling her voice.
Lilly’s smile faded as she finished preparing the last of the potpies and set them to bake. Wiping her floured hands on the white cotton apron, she turned toward Adelaide. “You are a truly kind woman, and I appreciate your offer, but I don’t believe I could pray for Lewis—I’m not at all sure I care what happens to him.”
Addie took hold of Lilly’s hand. “Well, then, I’ll just set aside some time each day and I’ll be praying for the both of you. We’ll see if God has something to say in the matter of Lewis and his evil ways.”
“And me, Miss Addie? What are you looking for God to do with me?”
Addie gave her a wink and smiled. “Just a bit of softening on that heart of yours—I’m afraid it’s beginning to harden at much too early an age. You’re a good girl, and I just thank the Lord you’ve come into my life. I wish there was something more I could do for you, aside from your bed and board.”
“There is one favor you could do for me.”
“Anything. You just tell me what it is.”
“I’m invited to a supper this evening—not until half past seven,” she quickly added. “Would you give permission for me to attend?”
“Why, of course, Lilly. You don’t need my permission to go out. The girls go out shopping and visiting every evening. However, it would be nice to know where you’re going,” Addie replied, giving her a grin. “Or am I being too meddlesome?”
Lilly couldn’t help but laugh. Addie’s deep blue eyes were alight with curiosity. “Julia Cheever, Matthew’s mother, spotted me on Merrimack Street when I was shopping today. She insisted I come to supper this evening. I attempted to refuse her invitation, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She threatened to send Mr. Cheever if I’m absent.”
“It would be more interesting if she sent Matthew,” Addie replied with a mischievous grin.
Lilly met Addie’s lopsided grin with a stern frown. “Matthew won’t be in attendance. Rest assured that I would never have accepted the invitation under any other circumstance. I’m certain Mrs. Cheever would never intentionally cause such an embarrassing situation for either of us.”
“It is amazing what a mother will do for the well-being of her child,” Addie whispered as she lifted her foot from the stool.
Chapter 7
Matthew smiled at his reflection in the large oval mirror that hung over the ornately carved mantel in his parents’ parlor. He adjusted his cravat ever so slightly, then glanced out the front window. Pulling a gold watch from the pocket of his double-breasted waistcoat, he decided he could wait only five minutes longer. If his mother hadn’t returned by then, he would ask Mary to deliver a message. But moments later, she entered the front door, a basket containing the morning’s purchases hanging from her arm.
“Matthew, what a pleasant surprise,” she greeted as he met her in the hallway. “I’ll be with you as soon as I unpack these things. They had such fine produce at the market this morning, it was difficult to decide what to buy. Sit down,” she urged.
“I can’t stay, Mother. In fact, I’m already late.”
“But since you’re already here, I was hoping you’d stay for supper. I’m having guests.”
“I couldn’t possibly do that,” Matthew replied.
“But, Matthew, this is the third time in recent weeks that we’ve invited you to join in our dinner party. I’ve already invited other guests and I am short one male escort. What is so important that you must create this last-minute disorder for me?”
Matthew squared his shoulders, his chest swelling as he spoke. “Mr. Boott wants me to accompany him to Boston for a meeting with Bishop Fenwick.”
A startled
look crossed Julia’s face. “You’ve come at the last minute to tell me you are not attending my dinner party in order to go with Kirk Boott and meet with some Catholic priest? What’s gotten into you, Matthew, that you think fraternizing with some papist is more important than attending my party?”
“Mother, I’m sorry if I’ve caused you inconvenience. However, this meeting is important to my future with the Boston Associates. Perhaps you could ask Jonas to bring along one of his acquaintances.”
An exasperated sigh escaped Julia’s lips. “Boston Associates,” she remarked with a hint of disdain. “You have a Harvard education, Matthew. There are any number of businesses that would be pleased to employ you. Without, I might add, requiring you to travel so often that you can’t partake in a supper engagement at your parents’ home.”
“At the moment, I don’t have time to argue the benefits of working with Mr. Boott, but suffice it to say that I’m willing to make any necessary sacrifice in order to become a valued employee of the Associates.”
“Any sacrifice, Matthew?” Julia pulled a lace handkerchief from her sleeve and began dabbing at her face. “I pray that remark isn’t true.”
“Please, Mother, you need not attempt to convince me you’re going to faint over an offhand remark. I promise I won’t sell my soul to the devil, but I am going to Boston with Mr. Boott.”
“Well, do as you see fit. I’m sorry you’ll miss my special guest. You’d better be on your way. I wouldn’t want to detain you further,” she replied as she began walking out of the parlor.
His mother’s game playing was exasperating. She knew he wouldn’t leave until the unnamed guest was revealed. When he had been a little boy, she could always entice him with a secret—she still could. Julia enjoyed the game and he knew it. Yet, his curiosity forbade departing without knowing the name of her mysterious guest.
“You have my promise that I will be here for dinner a week from Sunday,” he coaxed.
Julia stopped, turned toward him, and placed a finger against her pursed lips. “And that you’ll be in attendance at Sunday services?”
“I’ll be sitting alongside you and Father in the fourth pew,” he answered.
“Now, don’t take that peevish tone, or I’ll be forced to require a greater sacrifice.”
His mother held the trump card. They both knew it, and time was growing short. Accordingly, he gave her his most winsome smile. “I shall be pleased to attend church with you next week. Now, who is your surprise guest?”
“If you had more time, I would oblige you to guess,” she coyly replied. “But since time is of the greatest import, I shall tell you. It is Lilly Armbruster.”
Without thought, Matthew lowered himself onto the sewing chair behind him. “Lilly?” His voice was a hollow whisper. He stared up at his mother, feeling the blood drain from his face.
“Yes. I thought you would be pleased,” she ventured. “Are you feeling ill, Matthew? You’ve lost your color.”
“Where? How? Why did you do this?”
“I love Lilly. Just because the two of you are no longer—shall we say, betrothed—doesn’t mean I don’t want to spend time with her. Her parents are both dead. She has no family, unless you consider that scoundrel Lewis—which I don’t. I wanted to reach out to her in some way but wasn’t sure how. Then, as I was strolling down Merrimack Street this morning, I saw her in front of the millinery shop. I offered my condolences and explained that we had been out of town when her father passed away. I inquired about her welfare and asked if she would come to supper. She was as close to a daughter as—”
“But she isn’t your daughter, Mother, and I am your son. You knew it would create an uncomfortable situation for me, but you went ahead and invited her. I can’t believe you would do such a thing—or that she would accept.”
Julia’s attempt to appear composed fell short. She was wringing her hands, and tiny beads of perspiration had formed across her upper lip. “Don’t think harshly of Lilly. She asked if you would be in attendance. I told her you were out of town on business. And you will be,” she quickly added. “Although, I had hoped—”
Matthew rose from the chair. “Hoped what—that we’d renew our relationship? That we’d become engaged again? She’s in mourning, Mother. Her father just passed on. How appropriate would it be for me to suddenly appear on her doorstep with ring in hand?”
“Well, granted, there are proprieties to be held to. However, if you feel the same way about her . . .”
“I don’t want to discuss this further. It appears my trip to Boston will make an honest woman out of you, Mother. However, you will do nothing but cause pain for Lilly and me if you continue to interfere. Our relationship is over. And please remember it was Lilly who terminated our liaison. I didn’t drive her off.”
“If you hadn’t taken up with Kirk Boott and that group of Bostonians, she’d still be at your side.”
“You and Father didn’t object to my association with them when it fetched you a better price for your land than that of the other East Chelmsford residents,” he retaliated.
Julia shook her head in denial, her cheeks growing flushed. “That was your doing, Matthew. You convinced your father to sell the acreage.”
“Your life has never been better than here in Lowell.”
“There is no doubt my life is easier, but don’t try to disguise the truth with that argument. You wanted to impress those men with the fact that you were an East Chelmsford resident who could give them an advantage dealing with the locals as they attempted to purchase the land. You started with your own family in order to impress them. Now, I’m not saying what you did was in any way improper. And I would venture to say that most of the original landowners are doing well, even though they feel misrepresentations were made to them. Unfortunately, Lilly Armbruster is not one of those people who has benefited. And it breaks my heart.”
“The fault lies with her brother, not the Boston Associates. The Armbrusters received more than most.”
Julia nodded her head. “Perhaps. But the coins that line Lewis Armbruster’s pockets do nothing to help his sister. This discussion will do nothing to change Lilly’s circumstances.
“You best be going, Matthew, for I’m sure Mr. Boott is anxiously awaiting your arrival.”
He wished now that he had merely sent his regrets. The conversation with his mother had completely ruined the excitement of traveling to Boston and meeting with Bishop Fenwick.
“Give my regards to Father,” he said as he opened the front door.
“You may do that yourself next Sunday. I haven’t forgotten your promise. I’ll expect to see you promptly at ten o’clock. And don’t think I haven’t noticed your absence in church the past two weeks, young man.”
Matthew could only nod in agreement as he bounded down the front steps. His mother had succeeded in ruining his journey into Boston, yet there she stood on the wide front porch, waving her lace handkerchief after him as though she were bestowing some unspecified blessing upon him.
He rushed down the street, turned the corner, and hastened toward the Boott residence. A sigh of relief escaped his lips when he saw the carriage had not yet departed. As Matthew drew closer, he observed the legendary tyrant-in-residence pacing back and forth along the pillared entryway to his mansion, a look of annoyance etched upon his face. Quickening his step, he rushed onward, his pounding heart threatening to explode within his chest. Sights fixed on Boott, Matthew watched as his mentor turned toward the street and headed for the awaiting carriage. Matthew raised his arm, waving it back and forth above his head. He didn’t have breath enough to call out a greeting.
“You are seventeen minutes late,” Boott stated in a measured voice. “I loathe tardiness, Matthew. You should remember that in the future.”
Matthew gasped for air. “Yes, sir. I apologize. I stopped to say hello to my mother—”
Boott held up his hand. “Please—don’t give me an excuse. As far as I’m concerned, there is no excu
se for tardiness. If you’re finally prepared, let’s be on our way.”
A deafening silence permeated the carriage. Matthew determined he would await Mr. Boott’s opening comment. He certainly wasn’t going to cause himself further embarrassment—at least not if he could help it. The pastoral countryside prepared for autumn, a hint of rustic color beginning to tinge the green landscape, and Matthew settled his gaze out the carriage window. Passing the farms and orchards, his thoughts returned to the conversation with his mother. Somewhere deep inside him, he longed to be sitting at the supper table this evening, filling his senses with Lilly and her charming laughter, touching her chestnut curls, and gazing into her golden-flecked brown eyes.
The warmth of the sun beating upon the carriage coupled with the beauty of the countryside served as reminders of times spent with Lilly. He missed their long walks and the simplicity of plucking an apple from a tree in the orchard or reading poetry by the river. But most of all, he missed sharing his dreams with Lilly. Why did she have to be so unyielding? They could have shared a wonderful life together, if only she would have opened her eyes to reality. No matter that he had presented valid, intelligent arguments for selling the farmland. She could not be convinced that East Chelmsford’s future lay in manufacturing, not farming. His thoughts were entirely focused upon Lilly when Boott’s words broke the silence.
“Since our supper at Nathan’s earlier this week, I’ve given further thought to your ideas regarding the Irish. Although there is merit to meeting with the bishop, I don’t want to appear overly zealous about the possible role of the bishop or the Catholic Church in Lowell. When we meet with Bishop Fenwick, I will do the talking. Unless I specifically direct a question to you, you will say nothing other than proper formalities. Is that understood?”
Matthew nodded his head in agreement. “Absolutely.”
“I can only hope you’ll perform this task more efficiently than your late arrival this morning.” The comment was laced with sarcasm. Boott’s sardonic grin followed the biting remark.
Daughter of the Loom (Bells of Lowell Book #1) Page 9
