Together they walked from the agent’s office and crossed the mill yard, Mr. Gault waving and calling out hellos to several of the men pushing carts of cotton that would soon be devoured by the carding machines.
The white tower with its huge clock cast a shadow across one of the brick-lined flower gardens that centered the yard. The bright, colorful blooms of spring and summer were gone, replaced by fading, dried stalks, providing evidence of the changing season. Lilly followed Mr. Gault to the narrow winding stairway that ascended one end of the mill. The enclosure covering the stairway jutted out from the structure, giving the appearance of a misguided afterthought.
They entered the stairwell and began their upward climb, the clamoring of the pulsing machinery growing louder with each turn. Lilly instinctively wrinkled her nose at the stale, fetid air. By the time they had passed the second-floor landing, Mr. Gault had slowed his pace, and when they finally stopped outside the third-floor doorway, his breathing had turned shallow and labored. Lilly balanced herself on the narrow top step as he hesitated and grasped the doorknob with his right hand.
“Fortunately, we need climb no farther,” he said, his words bursting forth in short gasps. He gulped another breath of air. “I’ll take you in and introduce you to your supervisor.” The words were barely out of his mouth before he stopped with a look of recognition on his face. He gulped two more breaths. “Thaddeus Arnold is the supervisor of the spinning room,” he said in an apologetic tone before pushing open the door.
The blood drained from Lilly’s face, leaving her pale and shaken. This must be a cruel joke—the thought of facing toady little Thaddeus Arnold every day. Being forced to tolerate his infuriating pomposity was surely more than she could bear.
Mr. Gault waved to someone across the room. Lilly fixed her attention on the room, allowing the scene to tug her back to the present. She was greeted with Mr. Arnold’s leering gaze. Despite the intense heat and humidity that hung in the room, a shiver ran up her spine, and she quickly glanced downward. Lint was already clinging to her dark chambray dress. I should have listened to Miss Addie and worn my faded old work dress, she silently chastised herself. Had it not needed laundering, she would have taken the older woman’s advice. Instead, she had gone to bed. Now she would pay for her laziness.
Mr. Gault mouthed his good-bye before making a hasty departure out of the room and back down the stairway.
Lilly stood mute before Mr. Arnold, the humidity and his leering stare dampening her hair and her spirits in synchronized accord. He slithered off the stool and motioned for her to follow. They walked past Mary Albertson, who had a room across the hall at Miss Addie’s boardinghouse. None of the other operators looked familiar, but several of them extended a welcoming smile as she followed Mr. Arnold down a narrow aisle, attempting to keep her distance from the machinery that was spinning thick white ropes of cotton onto tall bobbins.
Lilly placed a finger to her ear. How could anyone be expected to spend her waking hours in these horrendous conditions? And yet, the other girls seemed oblivious to the thundering noise that surrounded them. They moved on cue, shifting to and fro in time with the machines, carefully unknotting any errant thread that dared tangle before gliding back in place to continue their vigil. Silent sentries, they guarded over the metal monsters that thundered and pounded as they produced the thread-laden bobbins.
Without warning, Mr. Arnold’s fingers closed around her wrist, startling Lilly to attention. She pulled free and met his beady-eyed glare. Mouth turned upward in a half smile, his touch lingered on her arm while his defiant look dared her to say a word. Finally he stepped aside.
“This way,” he shouted, pointing toward several frames that stood idle at the end of the row. She followed, relief flooding her soul as she spied Nadene. Mr. Arnold motioned Nadene to join them. “Nadene Eckhoff,” he screamed into the lint-filled air.
Lilly nodded. “We board in the same house,” she screamed back.
“Get to work!” he commanded before walking away. Lilly tried to hide her relief as she turned to face Nadene.
Nadene rewarded her with a bright smile as she pointed toward the handle. She grasped Lilly’s hand in her own and together they pulled the handle, sending the machine into motion, adding yet another level of noise to the already deafening racket. The two of them watched the machine momentarily, and then Nadene pulled Lilly toward another frame.
“This one is yours, also. It’s not difficult; just watch that the roving doesn’t twist or snarl. Mr. Arnold comes around every hour to assure himself our work is satisfactory, so be mindful your bobbins are filling evenly. He always looks at the bobbins. The other day he threatened to reduce Mary’s pay because he said she was daydreaming and her bobbins weren’t filling uniformly. He’s new to his position, and several of us think he’s hoping to impress his superiors by increasing our workload. We don’t like him much,” she added, pulling the handle and causing the second machine to move into frenzied gyrations. “If the roving goes awry, I’ll come help you if need be,” she promised as she moved back to her own frames.
Lilly nodded and mouthed a thank-you before beginning her wearisome vigil over the metal beasts. It was mindless work, with nothing to break the monotony except the occasional skewed roving or unevenly wound bobbins. The clamor of the machinery was deafening, but the other girls seemed unaware. Curiously, they appeared to be in a trancelike state, each having escaped to some unknown place—somewhere far beyond the walls that surrounded and held them prisoner. She wished that she could escape into their dream world, but the noise prevented her departure. It held her captive, a slave to the torturous din.
She startled at Mr. Arnold’s touch. He had come up behind her, placing his hand on the small of her back. Stepping away from the machine, she backed into his awaiting arms. He held her in a viselike grip, his acrid breath assailing her nostrils as he leaned in close to her ear, his fingers squeezing her flesh. “Your bobbins are not winding properly,” he said, slowly releasing his hold. He held up a bobbin in front of her face. “Unacceptable!” he screamed. His beady eyes gleamed grotesquely as he grabbed her by the arm. “Watch after those machines,” he screamed as they passed Nadene. Lilly turned to look back at Nadene as Mr. Arnold pulled her along, back out the door and into the stairwell, then pushed her into the corner. “Do you want to maintain your position in this mill?” he snarled. His yellow teeth were bared like an animal attacking its prey.
Lilly turned her head as he moved in closer. His arms pinned her on either side. She ducked beneath his arm and then held up a warning finger. “Don’t touch me, Mr. Arnold, or you’ll live to regret it,” she shouted. Quickly, she turned the doorknob then rushed back into the room, down the aisle, and to her position at the machines. She didn’t look up until she heard the faint sound of the breakfast bell. It grew louder as the girls quickly slammed their machines to a halt and began rushing toward the doorway. Nadene shoved the handle back on one of Lilly’s frames and motioned for her to quiet the other one.
“Hurry or you won’t have enough time to eat breakfast and get back here on time,” Nadene said as she headed toward the door.
The other girls were already moving into the stairwell as she made her way down the row of machines. A strange noise caused Lilly to look over her shoulder. She swallowed hard. Thaddeus Arnold had another girl backed into a corner. She appeared to be smiling and nodding in agreement, although Lilly couldn’t be sure. Edging closer to the door, Lilly continued watching, unable to tear herself away from the unfolding scene. Arnold’s hands were around the girl and his head was bent forward. It was impossible to see if they were talking or if he was kissing the girl. The thought was repugnant. His head came up as he stepped back and allowed the girl to move away. Lilly shivered as she watched Thaddeus pat the girl’s backside. Silently, Lilly slipped into the stairwell, her hands quivering as she wondered just what liberties Thaddeus Arnold might be taking with the girls employed at the Appleton.
At each level, additional operatives poured into the stairwell, each group seemingly more harried than the last, until they finally reached the bottom. Rushing forward to greet the crisp, bright morning, Lilly inhaled deeply. Her dress was damp with perspiration, and suddenly the cool air was more enemy than friend. She drew her cloak tight around her body, looking neither to her right nor left as she hurried down Jackson Street. She couldn’t drive from her mind the scene of Thaddeus Arnold with the girl. What if he approached her again?
Suddenly someone took hold of her arm and Lilly whirled about. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Nadene apologized. “I wanted to tell you that you did a grand job this morning. You’ve nothing to worry about.” Nadene matched her step to Lilly’s.
“Thank you. I didn’t expect you to wait on me. You’re wasting precious time when you could be eating your meal.”
“Some things are more important than food. I was concerned about you. Did Mr. Arnold give you a difficult time this morning?”
Lilly hesitated. “He told me if I didn’t do a better job he’d be required to terminate me.”
Nadene didn’t seem overly surprised. “He did that with the other girl who just started yesterday. I think Mr. Arnold’s afraid he’ll be terminated if he doesn’t do well in his new position. After he’s more secure, perhaps he’ll stop his bullying behavior.”
“Has he said anything to you?” Lilly inquired.
Nadene gave a small giggle. “I don’t think he would dare. Mr. Boott himself transferred me to the Appleton because of my abilities in the spinning room at the Merrimack. I doubt Mr. Thaddeus Arnold would say one word to me. And don’t you worry; he won’t fire you, not with me for a teacher.”
“Why should you care whether I succeed?”
Nadene smiled. “That’s easy. I care because you’re my friend.”
Four or five girls were already eating breakfast when they arrived at the boardinghouse, and several others were reaching for bowls of food as they seated themselves. Lilly had been at work for only two hours, yet it seemed an eternity. Dropping onto one of the dining room chairs, she sat idle as the ravenous girls around her continued their feeding frenzy. Josephine nudged her with an elbow. “Pass the potatoes,” she sputtered, her mouth still filled with half-eaten food. She grabbed the potatoes from Lilly’s hand and swallowed. “You had better get some food on your plate, or you’re going to go hungry.”
Lilly nodded and put a mound of the potatoes on her dish when Josephine returned the bowl to her. It was the first time since her arrival that Lilly had been seated at the dining room table. It didn’t feel proper, Miss Addie serving breakfast without any assistance, but the older woman appeared to be doing very well on her own. The meal was hearty and on time, which was no small task for someone who only a week ago had served her boarders bread that would sink a ship.
In spite of a throbbing headache and upset stomach, Lilly poured a dollop of cream on a small bowl of pumpkin mush and forced a spoonful into her mouth. She swallowed hard, forcing the protesting lump downward, then clutched her midsection as the orange glob settled heavily in her stomach. Had Miss Addie not been watching, Lilly would have avoided breakfast altogether. Instead, she added a portion of fried cod, a biscuit, and a small wedge of cheese to the potatoes already congealing in grease on her plate. What was she thinking? It would be impossible to force another bite into her mouth, yet she didn’t want to offend Miss Addie. Using her fork, she pushed the food around her plate, occasionally feigning a bite or two. Busy with their own plates, the other boarders didn’t seem to notice. Within fifteen minutes, the girls began scurrying away from the table, some of them grabbing a biscuit to eat as they rushed back to the mill. Hoping she would go undetected, Lilly cautiously scraped her remaining food back onto the large serving platters and issued a silent thank-you when no one seemed to notice.
“Breakfast was splendid,” Lilly whispered to the older woman as she prepared to leave.
Addie blushed at the praise. “I know you haven’t time to visit, but did everything go well this morning?”
Lilly nodded. “As well as could be expected in such a place. I’ll tell you more this evening,” she promised.
“Yes, of course. Hurry along. I’ll see you at dinnertime. By then, you’ll be an old hand at operating your machinery.”
Lilly didn’t respond. She tied her bonnet, walked out the door, and joined the group rushing off toward the mill—all seemingly happy they had this opportunity to support themselves. Lilly cringed at the thought of spending years inside the walls of the towering brick fortress. Already she longed to return to a life where she could walk outdoors whenever she pleased. Thankfully, she told herself, she would be here only long enough to carry out God’s plan of retribution.
Chapter 11
Matthew bounded up the steps to the Cheevers’ front porch. He had left work an hour early, so his mother would undoubtedly be surprised at his arrival. The thought pleased him. After all, he had promised to come to dinner on Sunday, but that visit would be bound by duty rather than choice. Arriving unexpectedly at a time when the two of them could relax and enjoy their time together would be like old times, he decided.
Entering the front door, he called out, “Mother, where are you?”
“You needn’t yell. I’m right here,” Julia replied. She was seated in her tapestry-covered sewing rocker, her fingers deftly pushing and pulling a thread-laden needle in and out of a delicate piece of embroidery.
Matthew smiled, walked to where she sat, and kissed her cheek. “You don’t act surprised to see me,” he remarked, seating himself opposite her chair.
“You forget I have a clear view of the front street. I saw you coming long before you reached the door. I’ve even had several moments to contemplate why my son would be paying me an unexpected visit.”
There was a lilt to her voice. She no doubt already suspected why he had come. He might succeed in fooling himself but never his mother. She continued her sewing while he settled into the chair, contemplating his reply. Should he come right out with it, or should he attempt to convince her there was no ulterior reason for his visit? Matthew settled into the chair, elongating his body as far as possible, then propped his feet on the matching footstool.
“Do sit up correctly, Matthew. You’re going to crush your tailbone or pinch a nerve in your back sitting in that ungentlemanly position. You’re just borrowing future medical problems when you don’t use proper posture. Ask Dr. Barnard. He’ll confirm the truth of what I’m telling you.”
“I don’t want to talk to Dr. Barnard about crushed tailbones or pinched nerves, Mother. I’ve come to hear all about your supper party,” he said.
“Truly? That’s a bit odd, since you generally tell me that all supper gatherings are dull and unimaginative.” She gave him a wry grin before continuing. “Well, it goes without saying that the meal was delightful. I served the most delectable lobster bisque, and the mutton was beyond description—so tender it nearly melted in my mouth. And then there were baby peas with caramelized onions and parsleyed potatoes. Oh yes, and cherries jubilee, one of your favorite desserts. See what you missed? Positively a gastronomical delight, as your father would say,” Julia gloated.
Matthew watched his mother’s animated face as she delightedly recounted the details of each culinary offering. He remained patient as she explained the placement of her centerpiece and stemware, knowing she was baiting him to interrupt her once again. He would not. She would only prolong the agony by detailing each of the gowns worn by her female guests, or worse yet, the details of some latest piece of stitchery the women had discussed in the music room.
He pushed his chair back onto its rear legs and then quickly let it back down when his mother snapped her fingers. Obviously his mother was going to force him to ask questions. Perhaps if he told her about his trip to Boston, she would give him the information he truly sought. Might as well wade in and test the waters, he decided. “I had an interestin
g time in Boston. Mr. Boott and I met with the bishop and then had supper with some of Boott’s relatives. His niece, Isabelle, joined us for supper. She’s quite lovely. Boott seems to think she’d be a good match for me.” He hesitated only a moment and then added, “I trust you enjoyed delightful conversation during supper?”
Too late he realized he had said more than his mother could tolerate. Mentioning Isabelle was a mistake. Julia’s posture had turned rigid at the remark. She appeared ready to do battle as she placed her sewing in the basket beside her chair and turned to give him her full attention.
“So Kirk Boott has entered the matchmaking business? Well, you can give him a message from your mother. Tell him that when we find ourselves in need of a matchmaker’s assistance, I will personally come calling.”
“Now, Mother, don’t get upset. He knows I’m not seeing anyone at the moment and made a casual suggestion. I’m certainly not obligated to call upon his niece in order to maintain my position with the Corporation.”
She leveled a stare directly toward him. “Are you absolutely sure about that?”
“Preposterous! How could you even think such nonsense?”
Julia stood up and stared into the mirror above the mantel. Pulling a small decorative comb from her hair, she tugged at several strands before tucking the comb back into her coif. She turned and looked down at her son. “Matthew, you would be surprised at how cunning people can be. Don’t deceive yourself. You would make a fine catch for Boott’s niece—a nice addition to his family, and having you as a member of the family could do nothing but help his cause as he ascends upward in the Corporation. You could be the son he never had. I’m sure he wishes his daughter were old enough to marry; then he could truly take you on as a son. Don’t you see what he’ll do?”
“I’m sorry I mentioned the supper. And that’s all it was, Mother—supper.”
Daughter of the Loom (Bells of Lowell Book #1) Page 12
