Spindle

by Shonna Slayton

  “Mim!” Briar fanned her face, trying to stop the blush from spreading and the gossips from noticing.

  Ethel rose and went to get her story. “Now her,” Mim said, pointing in Ethel’s direction. “She’s going to have a harder time catching a man than most. She’s all points and corners. A man wants someone who is soft, welcoming. A sweet bun, not a horseradish.”

  Briar wanted to stick up for her friend, but Mim had a point. Ethel wasn’t welcoming to any of the men who came around the house. She cut them off short before they could even get to know her. So if Briar was to take advice about men from anyone in the house, Mim was the most logical. She went walking out with someone every weekend, and this summer would likely have a picnic lunch planned for every Sunday. It wouldn’t be long until Mim found the man who fit her list. She did have a way of getting their attention.

  “How much does one of those cost?” Briar asked, pointing to the bonnet, knowing in her mind that a bonnet wasn’t the reason she and Wheeler broke up, but her heart was interested anyway.

  Mim must have noticed Briar’s wary expression, because she followed up with: “We’re industrious women. We’ll spruce up the one you’ve got.”

  Briar focused back on the paper. Here wasn’t much more hope than the bonnet. She scanned the want ads, looking for fancy housewives needing help with sewing.

  Wanted: seamstress with skill. Fancywork a must. NINA.

  Wanted: fast sewer for growing family. NINA

  Wanted: smocking work. NINA

  NINA. No Irish Need Apply. She only wanted to do their sewing, not nanny their children.

  Mim read over her shoulder. “Ninnies. Remember, we have a deal.”

  Briar shook her head. “I couldn’t. If we were caught you’d never be hired again.”

  Mim shrugged. “It’ll be their loss.”

  Ethel came back triumphant with the story, followed by five other girls. “We’re going to stay in the parlor and take turns reading it aloud. Did you want to listen?”

  Happy to take her mind off her troubles for a moment, Briar stayed behind to listen to the serial while Mim pointed out that the fashion for colored underwear had passed, and most women now preferred white lingerie, hand-sewn and very fine.

  They were nearing the climax of the tale when Miss Olive came in. “The curfew bell is about to sound. Be ready to end.”

  “Oh, but please let us conclude the matter! There was a shipwreck and innocent Arthur is alive after all. We must find out what happens when he sees his Millie again,” said Mary.

  “Please,” begged the crowd of girls.

  “Well, in that case.” Miss Olive sat on the sofa’s edge and waved Ethel on. “You’d better read quickly. We don’t want to leave poor Millie in the dark about her love.”

  Minutes after the curfew bell rang, all the girls applauded Ethel’s reading. Then they scattered, discussing the fate of the characters as they rushed off to bed.

  By the time Briar got up to her room, Ania, the quiet Polish girl, was already in bed, having returned from her friend’s boardinghouse. She hadn’t learned much English yet, and preferred the company of her Polish friends to visiting with her housemates. It was no secret she wanted to change houses as soon as a bed opened up for her.

  “I’ll be sorry to see her go,” Mim whispered, pointing to the sleeping form. “Best bed-mate I’ve ever had. She’s hardly ever here and such a slip of a thing, I get more space.”

  “You mean since she doesn’t own anything, you get her extra drawer space,” said Ethel.

  “Did you like the ending to your story, Ethel? Did you find it romantic, or was it overly sentimental?” Mim changed the subject, putting Ethel on the spot. “Do you think the wrong people ended up together?”

  “I prefer the action sequences,” Ethel retorted. “Briar? Be the voice of youth for us. What did you think? Your opinion should matter more than two old spinsters.”

  At this barb, Mim’s eyes flashed, and Briar stepped between the two. “Neither of you are old spinsters and you know it. I liked the story just fine except for the shipwreck part.” She sat in a heap on the bed. “Henry left on the train tonight. He plans to travel overseas. I’d hate for him to go missing for two years and have everyone think he was dead.”

  “A Prince is leaving the valley?” Mim said. “I predict a flurry of new rumors about the reclusive family. And that’s a way to end the evening on a high note. Good night, all,” Mim said. She clicked the valve to turn off the gas lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

  Briar settled into her portion of the bed she shared with Ethel, and lay on her side.

  After Mim had fallen asleep, Briar whispered, “Ethel? You awake?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think Nanny has started making arrangements for the children.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “She knows my plans have changed and her deadline is coming up. She wasn’t at the cottage this weekend. She sent a friend in her place while she takes care of some unnamed business that could go on for weeks.”

  “She could be doing something personal she can’t share with you. Don’t go jumping to conclusions just because it’s foremost on your mind.”

  “I know, but that’s not what my gut is telling me. I have to prepare for the worst.”

  “I’m sorry. And I’m sorry about Henry leaving,” Ethel whispered before rolling over. “Are there more frames open on your floor? Could you take on another?”

  Briar ran the figures in her mind. She was responsible for four frames. Eight sides with 136 spindles on each side meant 1,088 spindles in all, ten hours a day, six days a week. If number four would work properly, she could handle one more, two if everything ran perfectly, which it never did.

  “Maybe. It would make for a busy day, but I’m there anyway.”

  Tomorrow she’d ask the overseer. Tonight she would fret over Henry.

  Chapter Nine

  And fret she did. All night long she imagined every possible tragedy that could befall Henry while he traveled for the first time, and so far away from home. Too soon the morning mill bells were clanging, signaling wake-up time. She thumped out of bed with the rest of her room-mates and dressed. Years of the same routine made it automatic.

  While waiting for Ania to wash at the water basin, she stretched and yawned, trying to wake up. Mim was busy pinning her hair, peering at Godey’s to mimic a new style. Ethel was already done and buttoning up her boots, her hair pinned tightly back, more concerned with safety than vanity.

  Ania finished, and then nodded at her room-mates before scooting out the door. Briar quickly washed up, then gathered her items for laundry to add to the pile for Miss Olive. Meanwhile Ethel straightened out Briar’s quilt while waiting for Mim to finish dressing. They all left together, Ethel leading the charge, and shooting glares at Mim for taking so long.

  In all, a regular morning.

  As if automated themselves, the boardinghouse doors all the way down the street opened to the dawning day as the operatives set off in a rush to the mill yard to make it through the gates before any stragglers were locked out. If seen above, it would look like a mass of ants streaming from their hills and marching out in formation.

  “You two going to join me at the meeting later this week?” asked Ethel. “Mrs. Sarah Tuttle is coming all the way from Boston to talk to us.”

  “Oh, please,” said Mim, scoffing. “No more of that vote-talk. I’ve got better things to do with my time.”

  Briar saw Ethel take a deep breath and knew she was going to start in on it. Mim knew just what to say to make Ethel mad. Miss Olive didn’t know what she was doing pairing up these two in a room. Briar was always caught in the middle. No wonder Ania spent as little time with them as she did.

  “I might,” Briar said to defuse the fight before it started. A suffrage meeting sounded like a waste of time, but Ethel could be persuasive about her causes. And until Briar’s nights were filled with sewing, she may as well hea
r about votes for women, however unlikely they seemed.

  Ethel breathed out, then shot a triumphant look to Mim. “Excellent. Maybe you can talk some sense into that one.”

  “Hmm,” Briar answered. Out of habit, she turned her attention to looking for Wheeler. They were passing his boardinghouse and she could usually spot him, since he was so tall.

  “He’s up ahead already,” said Mim. She pointed, wiggling her gloved finger. Even going to work in the summer, Mim dressed as fine as she could.

  “Oh, I’m not—”

  “Please. I know you still look for him.”

  There was no use protesting to Mim, so instead she searched the crowd ahead. Wheeler used to wait for her and they would walk close together, bumping arms as everyone else hurried past. He must have already gone in.

  They were at the mill gates now, not far from the outdoor wooden staircase they took to their respective floors. They were all pressed in, constricted by the hundreds of other workers all trying to get to their places on time.

  They ascended the stairs together until the third floor where they parted. Briar waved good-bye and opened the door straight into the spinning room. Ethel and Mim would continue up another flight to the weaving room.

  She stopped by the overseer’s office and knocked on the door.

  He waved her in, but returned his attention to the large account book in front of him.

  “Excuse, me, sir. I’d like another frame, soon as one opens up,” Briar said.

  “Got a girl leaving at the end of the month. But you’ll have to get all your frames up to peak production before then or it’ll go to someone else.” He looked at the time and stood.

  Briar backed out the door. “Thank you, sir.” She smiled. Now, to make frame number four behave.

  As soon as she got to her frames, Briar performed a quick clean and oiling before stuffing cotton into her ears in preparation. When the next bell sounded, she threw the shipper handles on the first frame, wincing as the overhead leather belts began slapping into action, causing her spindles to whine as they twirled the thicker roving into thinner thread. She tapped the foot pedal to jog the rail until she was satisfied the threads were taut before moving on to the next frame.

  The sound, or rather noise, was her least favorite part of the job. Some girls minded the close air. They had to keep the windows shut and the humidity high or the threads would break and they’d be run ragged on their feet all day mending the breaks. But Briar had gotten accustomed to a perspiring forehead, and the air did make for a natural greenhouse. At last count there were sixty potted plants in the spinning room alone, making the indoors pretend to be the outdoors.

  The dinner bell rang at noon, and quick as anything, the girls all shut off their frames and scurried for the door. They had one hour to run home, get a bite to eat, and be back at their frames. Briar pulled the cotton out of her ears and stuffed it in her apron pocket for later. The silence was deafening after all that noise.

  When Mim caught up to her from the weaving room, Briar could see from her quick pace and mischievous grin she had news.

  “The overseer and agent were talking near my loom today and you’ll never guess what they were saying.”

  “What?” Briar asked, wondering what would hold Mim’s interest.

  “They were talking about that new mill being built up in Burlington. They say they’re bringing in more than seven hundred looms this summer. A new model that practically runs itself. They say a girl could operate sixteen all on her own.”

  “Sixteen? You’re not thinking of moving, are you?” One friend leaving was enough. Briar didn’t want it turning into an epidemic.

  “No, silly, but I thought you might be interested, since that Wheeler boy of yours got hired by the Queen City Cotton Mills to help them set it all up. Of course, you could go as a spinner, too, since they’re going to have thirty thousand spindles. I just thought you’d like to move up to a loom.”

  Briar stopped walking. Operatives zooming by in a hurry to eat jostled her, but she didn’t care. Why would Wheeler move to another mill, in another town, no less, when he was waiting for a job at the shirtwaist factory?

  “Oh. You didn’t know? Not to worry, it’s not until midsummer so you still have some time.”

  Briar was speechless, her mind gone numb. A push from behind made her start walking again.

  “Did you hear me?” asked Mim. “It’s a great opportunity. You can get a job with Queen City, too. I heard the town is beautiful, right on Lake Champlain. Pierre grew up across the border and told me all about it. You’ll love it.”

  Briar drew in a breath. She had been hoping to move up to the weaving room because working the looms paid more and the job wasn’t as tedious. But to move away from the children? It was what she was trying to prevent.

  However, if she got a loom job, Nanny might agree to keep the children longer, knowing that Briar had a promotion and could send more money home.

  Mim pinched Briar’s arm, pulling Briar out of her reverie. “Ouch.”

  “Listen. My cousin was talking about taking a job there, too. He knows the agent and said he’d put in a word for me if I wanted to move closer to home, but I’d rather stay here. I like living away from my meddlesome family. He could put in a word for you, instead.”

  “Yes, please.” By now they had reached home, and they scooted up the stairs following the stream of their fellow hungry operatives.

  “Please what?” asked Ethel, who had caught up with them as they made their way into the dining room.

  “We’re going to get Briar transferred to the new mill with Wheeler,” explained Mim.

  Briar cringed. Why can’t Mim ever whisper? She quickly looked for Sadie and saw she was already seated at the far table, hopefully out of earshot. Briar wondered if Sadie would be upset when Wheeler left, or would she quickly move on to someone else? Briar didn’t know her well enough to be sure how deep her feelings ran, though Mim was convinced they were as shallow as a butter dish.

  “Mim overheard them talking about a new mill being built in Burlington. She thinks I could get a loom job there.”

  “Have you even thought this through?” said Ethel, steering Briar away from where Mim sat down. “Leaving everything behind is not a decision to be made quickly.”

  “Nothing has been decided. I have to consider every opportunity that comes my way.”

  There was no more time to talk as they gobbled down their dinner of cod and hash. On the rushed walk back to work, Briar kept a pace slightly ahead of Ethel so her room-mate couldn’t tell her what to think before she had a chance to think it for herself.

  Briar’s mind kept wandering all day, imagining life in Burlington. It would be hard not to see the children regularly, but there would be more money for them, to ensure Pansy could keep going to school instead of working at the mill as soon as she was old enough.

  Annie, the operative working the frames beside Briar’s, nudged her arm and pointed at frame number four. Broken threads all over the place. Briar nodded her thanks and rushed to join the pieces before more damage was caused because of her daydreaming. She should have known with Henry gone she’d have to pay extra attention to her fourth frame. Seems she would just get it going again and before long all the threads were snapping and catching on one another. Constantly stalled equipment was no way to garner the right kind of attention, and the new doffer, Maribelle, was no help at all. Today was her first day on the job and the other doffers were doing their best to train her, but the girl was slow to learn.

  Briar frowned as she fixed her threads. Maybe Henry was why she was out of sorts. The mill felt empty with him gone. His easy way, how he would swagger in and fix her frame, tapping that one corner as he said good-bye. She glanced at the corner and noticed an acorn sitting there. Where did that come from? She looked around but everyone else was busy at work.

  She picked it up and examined it. A perfect acorn with a dark, variegated body and pale little cap like the o
nes she used as cups in her childhood fairy gardens. She smiled at the memory and placed the acorn in her pocket. Strange to find one sitting on her frame. She looked around again, expecting to see Henry jump out to surprise her, but he wasn’t there.

  Chapter Ten

  It didn’t take long for Briar to notice the big hole Henry Prince left behind. Aside from missing his mechanical skills with her spinning machine, the first time she walked the long road to the cottage by herself, she realized Henry was like the air—something you never really noticed because it was always there, but once it was gone, your chest felt like it was stuffed with cotton and left you struggling to breathe. She hadn’t felt this way since Da passed, and was surprised to feel it now about Henry. Each quiet walk home reminded her of all she missed about him.

  Fortunately, the children were getting on well with Fanny, who by now had found the bunny and made a big deal about the boys taking care of it without any help from her, and that it’d better not get into her garden. Although Briar had already caught Fanny out back hand-feeding the cute thing a piece of lettuce.

  Jack said he thought Fanny was made of magic because she seemed to be everywhere at once. “She can fly,” he said. “But not like a bird. She makes herself really tiny and then she can spy on us. That’s how she found the bunny.”

  Briar laughed at how serious Jack was about his imagined theory. She was glad Fanny was keeping them on their toes. It helped ease her mind that the children were well cared for. It was never easy to leave them for the week.

  As Briar turned the bend on her narrow path from the cottage back to the country road into town, there was a sudden change in humidity. A mist was creeping in, settling into the valley. The thick fog sent tendrils her way, wrapping around her ankles, penetrating to the bone, and pulling her faster into town.

  It reminded her of the story Mam used to tell about the potato famine.

  Late at night by the light of the fire, Mam would draw a wool blanket around her shoulders, get a far-off look in her eye, and begin the tale: “In the wee hours of the morn, a mist rose out of the sea and spread its spindly fingers across the land. It stayed for three days, thick as pease soup. A cry was heard across the moors that none could track as it came in all directions. A mournful sound. Then finally, when the mist lifted, we could see the tops of our potato plants and the blackness of blight that would change our lives forever.”