Lewis’s natural curiosity about the business of others caused him to straighten in his chair and strain to catch a glimpse of what the four men were so intently reviewing. It appeared to be a drawing or diagram, but the picture was hazy, his vision impaired. One of the men spoke of the recent mishaps at the Merrimack and Appleton mills. “These latest mishaps were obviously intentional. Any fool could have seen they weren’t accidents but purposefully caused.”
“Are you saying they lacked a level of professional talent?” another man said with a laugh.
Intoxicated or not, Lewis’s interest was immediately piqued by the comment, and he wondered if John Farnsworth and his English cohorts were numbered among William Thurston’s hirelings. He wanted to see what it was these men were studying so intently. Pushing aside his schooner of ale, Lewis leaned heavily on the table and then stumbled from his chair toward the men.
“Hullo, Farnsworth,” he slurred, leaning down until he was practically nose-to-nose with Farnsworth. His arm smacked against the papers strewn across the table, sending several fluttering to the floor. Lewis grabbed at one of the pages and swept it upward until it was well within his view. It appeared to be detailed drawings of the power system at the Appleton mills.
“I’ll take that,” Farnsworth said, pulling the crumpled drawing from Lewis’s grasp and handing it to one of the other men. “Appears you may have had one tankard too many, Mr. Armbruster.”
“Or not quite enough,” Lewis replied, his voice garbled as he staggered out of the tavern, wondering why Farnsworth and his friends were so absorbed in drawings of an already operational power system.
Lewis continued onward, his thoughts shifting from the fine-lined drawing of waterwheels and pulleys to the friendship and harmony exhibited by Farnsworth and the other men. He needed someone in whom to confide, someone who could help him make sense of his unruly life. Lilly! Without warning, her name flashed into his mind. Surely she could help him.
His hand balled into a tight fist, Lewis pounded on the door of number 5 Jackson Street. It was nearly ten o’clock, quite late for someone to be calling at the boardinghouse, but he didn’t care. He pounded again. The door opened just a crack, and Miss Addie peeked through the narrow opening. Pressing his face near the gap in the doorway, Lewis said, “It’s Lewis Armbruster. I must see my sister.” The heavy odor of spirits wafted through the night air as he spoke.
Miss Addie sniffed several times, her nose in the air like a bloodhound following its scent. “There’s no doubt where you’ve spent your evening,” the older woman admonished. “The girls have retired for the night, but if you care to wait outside, I’ll go and see if Lilly is asleep. I won’t permit you entry in your condition.”
“I’ll wait,” Lewis said, sliding down onto the front step. “I saw your friend, Farnsworth, at Nichol’s,” he added.
“John? At Nichol’s? Was he by himself?” Addie asked before quickly placing an open palm over her mouth.
Lewis gave her a lopsided grin. The woman was obviously embarrassed by the inquiry. “He was with three other men, all of them engrossed in drawings of the waterwheels and power supply at the Appleton mills. No need to worry, Miss Beecher,” he said with as much reassurance as he could muster in his drunken condition. The door closed and he leaned his head against the hard, cold wood. He doubted his sister would appear, but he closed his eyes and waited.
He was unsure how long he had been there when the door jerked open. Lewis fell backward, his upper body sprawling across the threshold. “Good evening, Lilly,” he said, staring upward.
“What brings you here at this time of night, Lewis?”
Lewis managed to pull himself into an upright position and meet his sister’s gaze. “I need to talk to someone who can help me understand why I’ve made so many wrong choices in my life.” He hesitated a moment. “I thought of you, Lilly. You’re the only one who truly knows me. I need help,” he whispered.
Lilly glanced toward Miss Addie, who nodded her head. “You may come in, Lewis, but we can talk for only a short time. Boardinghouse rules state I am to be in bed by ten o’clock.”
Lewis turned to Miss Addie. She beckoned him in. “I’ll wait in my room with the door open, Lilly. No more than ten minutes,” she cautioned.
Lilly nodded and then led Lewis into the parlor. “We haven’t much time, Lewis. What choices were you alluding to? The boardinghouse girls, your gambling, your drinking, selling the farm . . .”
“You’ve kept quite a list, haven’t you? It would take more time than either of us has to address even those items,” Lewis said as he leaned forward on his chair. “And they’re not even what I came to discuss. I should leave.”
Lilly grasped his arm. “Wait, Lewis. I’m sorry; I know I’ve been harsh. Tell me why you’ve come. I’ll do my best to help.”
He looked at her oddly, wondering why she was so compassionate when he’d been nothing but mean-spirited toward her. Perhaps it was all that religious nonsense she adhered to. Perhaps he looked as bad as he felt. Either way, it didn’t matter.
“I’ve become involved in some matters that are terrible, unforgivable—matters so heinous I dare not speak of them.”
“Lewis, you must confide in me if I’m to be of any assistance. Please! Tell me what you’ve done.”
Now that the influence of his ale was beginning to wear off, Lewis realized that coming here had been a mistake. What could he do? Tell his sister he was William Thurston’s henchman, hired to murder a helpless woman and child? The thought of making such a statement to his sister was ludicrous. Besides, how could Lilly help?
“There’s nothing you can do, Lilly, and telling you could place your life in danger. Forget that I ever came here. I don’t want to cause you further trouble.”
Lilly gently touched his face. “I could pray for you, Lewis. In that regard, I fear I have failed you.”
There was an overpowering sadness in his sister’s voice that caused Lewis to regret the very essence of who he was and what he had become. “I doubt it will help, Lilly, but I’ll not reject your offer of prayer.”
* * *
Lilly stared at Lewis as he left the room. There was little doubt something sinister was occurring. She knew she must intercede for her brother, pray for his protection and strength to overcome whatever evil had permeated his life. The thought surprised her, yet the urgency to pray was unmistakable—unwavering, overwhelming. A palpable fear for Lewis’s eternal salvation consumed her every thought. Falling to her knees, Lilly translated her fear into supplication as she lovingly whispered her words into the ear of God.
Chapter 29
A rapping at the front door brought Addie scurrying from the kitchen. “Mintie!” She hesitated momentarily. “I’m surprised to see you.”
There were dark circles under Mintie’s eyes, and her face was etched in a weariness that gave proof to sleepless nights. “May I come in?” she haltingly asked.
“So long as you understand that I remain steadfast in my admonition regarding John Farnsworth.”
Mintie nodded and stepped inside the door. Removing her woolen coat and bonnet, she turned toward her sister. “I’ve missed your companionship, Adelaide.”
Addie gave her sister a guarded smile, still somewhat fearful of Mintie’s motivation. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Yes, that would be most welcome. I can come into the kitchen if you’re busy with meal preparations.”
Addie’s eyebrows danced upward. Her sister was certainly compliant this morning. “That would be most helpful. I was in the midst of peeling turnips. I’m preparing lamb stew for the noonday meal.”
“I’ll be glad to finish paring the turnips if it will help,” Mintie offered as she followed along behind.
Addie’s mouth fell open at the suggestion. Mintie offering to assist her? Something was amiss, but for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what Mintie wanted. Handing her sister an apron and a knife, Addie began chopping hunks of carr
ot and dropping them into a kettle. “Was there something in particular you wanted to discuss?” she ventured.
Mintie nodded, her eyes cast downward as she continued to peel the vegetables. “I’ve been giving thought to Mr. Farnsworth and his possible predisposition of loyalty to the Crown ever since you told me I was unwelcome in your home.”
Addie gave her sister a sidelong glance but didn’t interrupt. Instead she silently waited, permitting her sister an opportunity to complete her explanation.
Mintie cleared her throat and continued. “I’ll admit I may have jumped to some unwarranted conclusions. However, there were things—still are, for that matter—that give me cause to wonder about Mr. Farnsworth. There’s no denying the items I’ve seen in his room or the men who come to the house—without calling cards,” she hastened to add.
“I’ve spent a good deal of time pondering this situation and seeking the best way to mend our relationship. I don’t want an outsider to come between us, Adelaide. After all, we’re blood, and we shouldn’t permit anyone to cause a breach in our family.”
Addie wiped her hands on her stained apron and met her sister’s gaze. “Does this mean you no longer suspect he is a traitor?”
Before Mintie had opportunity to reply, Addie’s boarders came clattering into the house with their shrill voices filling the air. “Miss Addie, Miss Addie, there’s been another accident at the mills,” Lilly called, her voice muffled until it finally reached the kitchen.
“Come join me, Lilly,” Addie called in return, anxious to hear the details. “What happened?” she asked as Lilly entered the room.
“It’s terrible, Miss Addie. Something was jammed in the waterwheel. Several men were attempting to get it loose. When they finally succeeded and the wheel began turning, one of the men lost his footing and dropped into the rushing water below. He was crushed by the wheel,” she said in a hushed voice. “The man has a wife and three children. We were told to return home until someone sends for us. Mr. Arnold said it wouldn’t be until after lunch for certain and perhaps not until tomorrow.”
Lilly’s words pierced Addie’s heart, each utterance a tiny dart of suspicion. The clattering of Mintie’s knife upon the floor caused Addie to startle and whirl around.
“John Farnsworth had diagrams of the Appleton Mill in his room. I saw drawings—large, intricate drawings of the waterwheel and machinery. They were atop his trunk,” Mintie hastily added, placing her open palm against her chest. “And to think that only moments ago I was prepared to retract my accusations against John Farnsworth. What folly! I trust you’ll now heed my advice and keep your distance from that traitorous man who nearly destroyed our family ties.”
Addie stared down at the knife lying on the floor. Her throat constricted. She could not speak, but her mind was racing back to the sight of Lewis Armbruster standing at her front door several nights ago. What was it Lewis had said? “I saw Farnsworth at Nichol’s. He was with three other men, all of them engrossed in drawings of the waterwheels and power supply at the Appleton mills.” Why would John have been discussing those diagrams at Nichol’s Tavern? Most likely the men who were with him were some of those secretive gentlemen who came calling upon him at Mintie’s boardinghouse. A sensation of nausea swept over her. Could the man she had grown to care for be a party to this frightful incident? Surely not. And yet she was filled with apprehension—and questions.
“Did you hear me, Adelaide? Promise me you’ll stay away from that treacherous man.”
Addie gave her sister a dazed stare. “After listening to any explanation he cares to offer, I’ll make my decision. Condemning Mr. Farnsworth without giving him an opportunity to defend himself is contrary to my beliefs, Mintie. I wouldn’t want others to treat me in such a manner.”
Mintie momentarily perched on the edge of her chair and then rose, her back straight and her neck reaching toward the heavens, as she gave her sister a look of haughty disdain. “You were always a willful child, and it appears you’ve not changed an iota. What is it going to take for you to realize you are a wretched judge of character?”
“I know I’m a failure in your eyes, Mintie. You consider me no more than an undisciplined child. But you’re wrong. I’m a grown woman with my own opinions. The difference between us is that while I tend to see the best in people and situations, you tend to see the worst. You consider that tendency to be a flaw in my character; I consider it a blessing.”
Mintie tied her bonnet ribbons into a snug bow beneath her sharp chin. “Once again you’re choosing that traitorous Englishman over your own flesh and blood.”
Addie watched her sister flee from the house.
****
Lewis pulled his gold pocket watch from his waistcoat, gently rubbing his thumb over the engraved initials before snapping open the case. Nine o’clock. Tucking the watch back in place, he quickened his step. He noticed a woman and a group of boys on a nearby corner eyeing him suspiciously and cast his gaze downward, hoping the shadows of evening would prevent them from observing his face. He didn’t want anyone to remember he’d been to the Acre, especially on this night.
Pulling up the collar of an old tattered coat furnished by William Thurston, Lewis wondered how he had stooped to this level. It was better not to think, he decided. After all, thinking wouldn’t change anything, and by now, he was in too deep to dig his way out. Thurston held all of the trump cards.
When Lewis had objected to an early evening arrival at Kathryn’s house, William assured him the woman and child would be asleep. With a malevolent grin, Thurston explained that it was Kathryn’s practice to sleep in the early evening in order to keep him company during his late-night arrivals. He hoped Thurston knew what he was talking about! Lewis walked the litter-strewn street, seeking the abhorrent hovel Kathryn called home. He listened outside, and hearing nothing, he entered quietly, spying the woman asleep on a crude cot pulled close to the waning fire. The child was slumbering in the crook of her arm. Shadows danced across the room as he silently edged closer and lifted a pillow. He stared down at Kathryn’s creamy complexion, her features relaxed in sleep. Paralyzed, he gazed at her unbridled beauty for a moment before gaining a sense of courage and then pressed the pillow tight against her mouth and nose. The shabby covers fell to the floor as she briefly struggled before her body suddenly turned limp. He removed the pillow from her face and stood transfixed, unable to look away from her youthful appearance.
The boy cried out in his sleep, startling Lewis, who had been standing there as if in a trance. The child’s waiflike body was restlessly seeking warmth against his mother’s already chilling form. The boy couldn’t be much over a year old. Lewis shivered. His fingers continued to clutch the pillow, yet he could not muster courage enough to bring it down upon the child’s face. A piece of firewood dropped in the hearth. The crackling embers glowed, illuminating a purplish mushroom-shaped birthmark on the boy’s arm. Grabbing one of the tattered blankets, Lewis threw it over the child. “If the boy is lucky, someone will find him by morning,” he muttered as he rushed out of the room and down the street.
The streets were quiet, with only an occasional passerby to avoid as he hurried toward the Wareham House. He would report to Thurston and hopefully receive the balance of his blood money before morning. For a time he had given thought to refusing the money, thinking that would somehow assuage his guilt. But if Thurston was true to his word, the sum should be large enough to pay his passage to South America and a new beginning. How he longed for a new beginning. Lewis walked past the front desk and up the steps to Thurston’s room. He rapped lightly on the door.
William was bare-chested, his shirt dangling from one finger. “I’m preparing to go out. I hope you’re bringing me good news,” he said as he moved away from the door and stood by the fireplace, his exposed back toward Lewis.
Lewis stared at Thurston’s unclothed torso and immediately knew why Thurston had feared Kathryn’s threat. William and the child carried the same birthmark on
their arms.
“It went as planned. They’re both dead,” he said, struggling to keep his voice impassive.
William’s lips curled into a cruel grin. “Excellent! I still find it difficult to believe that Kathryn had the audacity to think she could hold me hostage to her threats. You know, Lewis, if I didn’t already have plans, we’d go and celebrate,” he said, quickly changing moods.
Thurston’s disdain for the woman who had given birth to his child amazed even Lewis. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Thurston’s cruelty knew no bounds. He thought of the little boy, and a tinge of fear crept into his consciousness. “I was considering a trip to South America,” he cautiously remarked.
“What? You’re joking, of course,” William said with a laugh. “We have work to complete right here. Besides, there’s no one waiting for you in South America—or is there?” he questioned, making an obscene gesture.
“I merely thought it might be best to keep a low profile. England doesn’t appeal to me, and I certainly don’t want to move into the western wilderness of this country.” Lewis watched as Thurston carefully affixed his cravat. “You mentioned unfinished business. Perhaps it would be best to use someone else since I’ve been deeply involved in several of your other ventures.”
William gave a wicked laugh. “Your involvement is exactly what makes you the perfect person to continue assisting me, Lewis. I won’t have you leaving the country. Besides, once I’ve managed to oust Boott and gain the helm here in Lowell, you’ll be my right-hand man. You can’t do that from South America. Sit down,” he said, pointing to a chair. “I have another half hour before I must leave. I’m sure you’ve come to collect your money.”
Lewis nodded. “I assume you’ve heard of the difficulty with the waterwheel over at the Appleton?” he ventured.
Daughter of the Loom (Bells of Lowell Book #1) Page 31
