“Exactly my point. The English have reason to hate us and to put an end to our mills. I know you don’t want to hear this, Adelaide, but there is no doubt in my mind that John Farnsworth is at the very root of this. In fact, I believe he hired someone to kill Kirk Boott and made his appearance at your birthday party in order to cover his involvement in the deed. He is a covert, traitorous man, sent here to aid in the ruination of this country.”
Addie gasped in disbelief. “I cannot believe you would say such things about a fine man like John Farnsworth. When you arrived, I thought you had come to berate me for accepting his gift. Now I find you’ve come to accuse him of attempted murder and treason against this country. Since you’re intent upon defaming John Farnsworth, I must ask you to leave this house. I’ll not tolerate such talk, Mintie.”
Mintie jumped up, her chair toppling to the floor. “You would choose that British spy over your own flesh and blood? I can’t believe what has happened to you, Adelaide Beecher. No doubt the Judge is rolling over in his grave at this very moment,” she harangued while darting toward the front door.
“Mintie,” Addie said, following her. “I want to say something, and I want you to hear me out.”
The older woman turned, her face fixed in a pinched expression. “Go ahead, you could hardly shock me further.”
Addie drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t understand why you feel you must hurt me. For as long as I remember, you’ve seemed to go out of your way to cause me pain. You berate me at every turn, never offering a single word of kindness or praise. You disdain my choices in clothes and friends, and you bring up hurtful things from the past to emphasize my shortcomings.” Tears filled Addie’s eyes. “I don’t understand how you can hate me so much.”
Mintie’s expression fell. She appeared to be genuinely stunned by Addie’s words. “I . . . You can’t believe that I hate you.”
“Then why do you do these things? Are you afraid I’ll embarrass you? If John happened to be a spy, and I had made a terrible mistake in caring for him, it would be my mistake—not yours. Don’t you see? Your fearfulness of the English and your bitterness over whatever it is you hold against me is tearing apart any affection we might have between us. I am your sister, Mintie, flesh and blood just as you said. Yet I’ve seen you treat stray dogs better than you do me.” Tears streamed down Addie’s cheeks, much to her dismay. She didn’t want Mintie to think her weak, but her pain was so deep there was no way to contain her emotions.
“Please go now,” she told Mintie and opened the door for her. “I want to be alone.”
Chapter 25
Lilly slipped into her gown of layered yellow muslin and shivered. It was hardly warm enough for the winter, but her choices were few, and this was one of the last of her gowns acceptable to wear to Sunday services.
While doing up the buttons, she silently chastised herself for agreeing to accompany Miss Addie to St. Anne’s for Sunday services. The ritual at the Episcopal church made her uncomfortable, for she hadn’t attended often enough to learn the order of service. She much preferred attending the Methodist church with Nadene, where she knew exactly what to expect. But Miss Addie had asked if she would attend St. Anne’s with her during the Advent season. The older woman said it would be her Christmas gift from Lilly since she disliked attending services alone. Lilly had hastened to point out that Mr. Farnsworth and Miss Mintie both attended St. Anne’s, but Miss Addie had quickly retorted that it was Lilly’s presence she desired.
Addie was waiting at the foot of the stairs in her fur-trimmed coat, a relic of the prosperous days when she, Mintie, and the Judge had resided among Boston society. “You look lovely,” she greeted as Lilly descended the staircase, “except for that frown you’re wearing.”
Lilly smiled at the remark. “It’s not a frown; I was merely deep in thought.”
Peeking from beneath her matching fur-trimmed bonnet, Addie gave a bemused look. “Then you must be thinking terrible thoughts.”
“I was contemplating the fact that I don’t want to see Matthew Cheever. And Matthew attends St. Anne’s,” Lilly remarked as they left the house. She fussed with the ribbons of a bonnet she’d borrowed from Miss Addie, hoping the woman would just let the matter drop.
“Your feelings for him run deep.”
“No, they don’t,” Lilly said in protest. “It’s just that our past makes me uncomfortable.”
Addie smiled. “Not near as much as your future.”
“Don’t say that. I don’t have a future with Matthew.”
“Say what you will, my dear. I won’t nag at you to be honest with me, but I think sooner or later you’ll have to be honest with yourself. Have you prayed about it—asked God what He desires for your life?”
Lilly refused to even contemplate her friend’s question, confusion washing over her. First Julia Cheever had worked to put Lilly back in Matthew’s life. Then Matthew himself, in that smug, self-confident way of his, had made certain Lilly knew he still considered a future for them. And now Miss Addie. It was just too much.
“Oh, here comes John,” Addie whispered.
At that moment, the older woman reminded Lilly of a blushing young girl excited at the sight of her first beau. Lilly felt a twinge of envy. She remembered feeling that way.
John pointed toward the western horizon. “Looks like snow clouds over there. Perhaps you’d like to join me for a sleigh ride one day soon, Addie.” It was more a comment than a question.
Lilly glanced toward the older woman, curious how she might react to John’s offer. The fact that God had blessed Addie with a modicum of joy in the midst of a humdrum daily life gave Lilly hope. Hope for herself and all the other girls that they, too, might find some respite from the monotony of the mills.
“A sleigh ride would be lovely, John. Perhaps Lilly and Matthew could join us.”
Lilly couldn’t believe her ears. She jabbed an elbow in Miss Addie’s direction but missed the mark. “I don’t want to go on a sleigh ride with Matthew,” she hissed in Addie’s direction.
Addie turned and gave Lilly a gentle smile. “Of course you do, dear. You just haven’t accepted the fact that you and Matthew still care for each other,” she answered sweetly.
Lilly would have rendered a protest, but it was no use. The church bells would drown out anything she might say. Besides, it was obvious her denial would fall upon deaf ears. She remained silent as the three of them approached the gray slate church building. The vestibule was filled with churchgoers not yet ready to enter the sanctuary. Lilly nervously glanced about, but Matthew was nowhere to be seen. She breathed a sigh of relief.
“Are you ready to go in and be seated?” Addie inquired. “John is going to sit in our pew. Mintie will have a fit,” she said with a nervous giggle.
“I’ll go in last. That way Miss Mintie will be seated next to me,” Lilly replied, knowing that Mintie’s attendance would dramatically diminish Addie’s ability to enjoy John’s presence.
“Thank you, Lilly,” Addie said as John held open one of the heavy wooden doors leading into the sanctuary.
A firm grasp on Lilly’s shoulder caused her to stop and turn. A smiling Randolph Cheever met her gaze. “What a pleasant surprise. Look who’s here, Julia,” he said as he turned toward his wife.
Julia Cheever was in her Sunday finery, her drawn bonnet of navy blue silk impeccably matching her empire dress. “Lilly! I didn’t realize you’d begun attending St. Anne’s. I insist you come and sit in our pew.”
“Thank you for the invitation, but I’m attending with Miss Addie. I fear it would hurt Miss Addie’s feelings if I were to sit with you,” Lilly explained.
Julia nodded in obvious understanding. “I’ll not argue. I certainly wouldn’t want anyone to think I would encourage bad manners. However, I doubt you can find an excuse to turn down a dinner invitation. We’re going to take you home with us after church, aren’t we, Randolph?” There was a note of triumph in her voice.
&n
bsp; There had to be some way Lilly could offer her regrets and escape dinner at the Cheever residence. Matthew hadn’t yet made an appearance, but there was no doubt he would attend Sunday dinner at his parents’ home. “My friend Nadene sustained severe burns at work several weeks ago, and I really must return home to help tend her bandages and keep her company,” Lilly replied. She had spoken the truth—she did want to visit Nadene, and sometimes she helped change her bandages.
Mintie Beecher scurried into the vestibule and then stopped momentarily to clear the fog from her glasses. Lilly tensed at the sight of the older woman, thankful Mr. Cheever was now urging his wife forward. “Services are going to begin,” he said.
Julia stepped alongside him. “We’ll discuss this after church,” she promised.
Pretending she didn’t hear, Lilly made her way down the aisle and opened the small door that permitted entry into the pew. Scooting in close beside Miss Addie, she folded her hands and waited. The swishing sound of Miss Mintie’s dress was drawing nearer. The pew door clicked. Lilly flinched but kept her gaze focused upon the floor.
Mintie sat down and gave Lilly a poke with her needle-sharp elbow. “What is everybody doing in our pew?” she inquired in an irritated whisper.
Lilly sat still, her head bowed. “Worshiping God. And I’m certain that He’s glad you’ve joined us,” she whispered in return. She forced herself to swallow hard as a giggle bubbled up and threatened to spill out.
“You be careful with your sass, young lady,” Mintie warned as she leaned forward in an obvious attempt to gain Addie’s attention. Fortunately for Addie, she had chosen a bonnet that successfully kept Mintie out of view.
Once again the pointy elbow stabbed into Lilly’s side. “Tell Adelaide to look this way. I want to tell her something,” Mintie ordered in an authoritative whisper.
Lilly placed a finger to her lips, hushing Miss Mintie as if she were a small child. “Miss Addie is praying,” she replied, then bowed her own head. She could feel Mintie’s unyielding gaze throughout the remainder of the service. The moment the organ sounded the last chords of the final hymn, John and Addie quickly exited out the opposite pew door.
Lilly attempted to follow them, but Mintie’s fingers dug into her arm. “I wanted to sit next to my sister. You should have stepped out and permitted me entry beside her. You should be sitting in your own pew or with one of the other girls. Do you pay pew rent here?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Then you should go where you pay your own pew rent and let me sit where I pay mine,” Mintie snarled.
Lilly looked deep into the older woman’s eyes. There was no doubt she was irate, yet behind the angry facade there was something else. Fear? Isolation? “I’m sorry you’re unhappy, Miss Beecher. I know you miss your sister. Perhaps if you would reconsider your feelings toward John Farnsworth, the two of you could set things aright. I’m sure it would please Miss Addie as much as it would you.”
There was a faint softening of Mintie’s frown as she peered down her nose at Lilly. “The impertinence of youth.”
“Who, me? Or were you meaning Miss Addie?” Lilly questioned.
“Never mind,” Mintie said, stiffening. For a moment her expression seemed quite sad, and Lilly actually felt sorry for the older woman.
They said nothing further, and Lilly stood silently watching as Mintie marched out of the church with her shoulders squared, head high, and back straight as an arrow. No doubt she let anger and irritation be her companions—it kept people from getting too close. Close enough to hurt you. Lilly had learned this very well for herself.
In a flash, she saw herself growing old—old as Mintie Beecher. Just as old and just as lonely and cantankerous. Do you really want that for yourself? a voice seemed to question. Do you really want to lose your chance at real happiness? Lilly shook the penetrating thoughts away.
The aisles were crowded but Lilly could see Julia Cheever wending her way through the congestion, heading directly toward her. She felt a twinge of guilt as she left the pew and pushed her way through to catch up with Addie and John.
Moments later a horse halted a short distance ahead of where the three were walking, and Randolph Cheever jumped down. “Lilly! We want you to join us for dinner. Let me help you into the carriage.”
She could hardly turn and run. Smiling, she permitted him to assist her, thankful that Matthew was not present.
****
Matthew unlocked the front gate to the Appleton and went directly to his office. He would be glad when Kirk was finally able to return to work. Not that he had any aversion to the additional responsibility. In fact, he found it flattering that Kirk now relied upon him even more. But when Kirk was present there seemed to be an air of authority that permeated the mills. Of course, Mrs. Boott was disinclined to have her husband return for at least another six weeks, saying he could comfortably work from his office at home. Matthew doubted his boss would stay away that long!
He wasn’t sure if it was the unsettling silence of the mill on a Sunday or the fact that he was meeting William Thurston and Lewis Armbruster for a secret discussion that was causing his anxiety. He read through several ledgers Mr. Gault had placed on his desk Saturday afternoon and reviewed the paper work Kirk had given him. He was finishing his notes when the gate bell rang. He startled to attention.
The two men stood waiting, talking in quiet tones, Thurston wringing his leather-gloved hands as Matthew approached. “Gentlemen. Come in,” Matthew said while holding open the gate.
Matthew couldn’t shake his feeling of uneasiness as they walked in silence to his office. He now wished he had insisted on waiting until Monday morning. “I’m expected somewhere within the hour, so perhaps we should get to our business. Tell me, what’s so important that we need to meet in secret on a Sunday afternoon?” Matthew asked, looking back and forth between the two men.
Armbruster turned toward Thurston, who was obviously the delegated spokesman. “Lewis and I have become privy to some information. We’ve weighed the merits of coming forward and with whom we should discuss this matter. After a great deal of thought, we determined you were the best choice.”
Matthew leaned back in his chair and met the man’s gaze. “And why am I the best choice?”
Thurston leaned forward, arms resting upon his thighs. “You live here in Lowell, you work closely with Kirk and, I dare say, you have almost a father-son relationship with him. I know how devastated you’ve surely been over his harrowing experience—the thought that he could have been killed! Well, it’s more than I even care to think about! I’m certain we would all be extraordinarily delighted to mete out punishment to the culprit who shot him.”
Matthew listened intently, careful to hide his excitement at the prospect of finally discovering who had ambushed Boott. “Do I understand that you’re prepared to give me the name of the person responsible for Mr. Boott’s injury?”
Thurston shifted in his chair. “We have information.”
Matthew attempted to hide his irritation. “What does that mean? Either you know who’s responsible or you don’t.”
“We know who’s responsible, but we don’t have a name. We know it’s a young Irishman.”
Matthew stared at the duo in disbelief. “Well, that certainly narrows it down.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you,” Lewis retorted. “And, quite frankly, telling you it was a young Irishman certainly does narrow the possible suspects.”
William held his hand up and silenced Lewis. “If you’ll permit me to continue, I will more fully explain. There is an informant, also an Irishman. I need not tell you what a tenuous situation it would place him in if word leaked out regarding his willingness to cooperate in the investigation. He wants assurance his name will not be involved in any way. And, of course, he would expect a reward for the risk he would be taking.”
Matthew stood and began pacing in front of the window along the south wall of his small office. “So this unnamed informant doesn�
��t want anyone but you and Lewis to know his identity. Does he have any proof to substantiate his accusations?”
“He has a piece of cloth that was torn from the coat of the person he says committed the act; the cloth was found out in the woods near where Boott was shot. My informant also told me that once he names the person, you could check with Hugh Cummiskey about the culprit. It appears this fellow and Boott had an argument, and Cummiskey witnessed their disagreement.”
Returning to his chair, Matthew sat down. His head hurt. He rubbed the back of his neck and then met William’s piercing gaze. “It sounds convincing, but I want names before I talk to Mr. Boott. Your man will have to wait upon any possible reward until we’re certain the name he gives you is the actual offender. I’m certain you realize the ramifications if these accusations are correct,” Matthew said, once again rubbing his neck.
Thurston nodded. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. The Irish are a blight on this community. They’re an unruly, uneducated bunch of rabble-rousers who are spreading like the plague throughout the town. Their tempers often lead them to take matters into their own hands. If this incident with Boott doesn’t prove my point, I don’t know what it’s going to take to convince the rest of you.”
“I’m not sure everyone shares your views on the Irish, William. In any case, I’ll need to have all the evidence—names, the piece of fabric, exact location where your man retrieved the cloth, and any other information he’s got that will substantiate his accusations against this as yet unnamed Irishman. Once I have that information, I’ll go to Mr. Boott. Tell your man that he’ll have to furnish the name of the culprit and his proof before we’ll move forward and investigate his claim. No reward until we’re certain his information is correct. Get back with me after you’ve talked with him.”
“Investigate? I’ve already done that for you. You’re expecting a lot from this man, and yet you’re doing nothing to show your good faith,” Thurston argued.
Matthew shrugged. “Any reward would come from Mr. Boott. Surely you can convince your informant that he’s dealing with a man who will do right by him.”
Daughter of the Loom (Bells of Lowell Book #1) Page 27
