Addie sampled a bit of each thing, feeling contented and not at all embarrassed by her enthusiasm. “I suppose you must think me quite out of step with propriety,” she told John, watching him for any sign that he did indeed feel that way.
John merely laughed. “Addie, you can be out of step with propriety any time you like, but I see nothing wrong with a woman enjoying herself at the table.”
“Mintie would be aghast. She has always chided me about my plump waist. If she saw me with clotted cream, she would never let me hear the end of it.”
John reached over to gently touch Addie’s arm. “You must never concern yourself with such things. I find you perfectly sized and delightful company.” He touched his hand to her cheek, causing Addie to feel flushed at the public display.
“John, you shouldn’t. People will think we’re lovers instead of husband and wife.”
At this John laughed with an abandonment Addie hadn’t seen since their arrival in London. Several of the other patrons looked their way and Addie felt her cheeks burn.
“John!”
He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at those who watched him. Then he quickly turned his attention back to Addie. “You are such a delight.”
Addie calmed and returned her focus to the pastries on her plate. “I want to do some more Christmas shopping if there is time. I’d like to find something special for your father, as well as Daughtie and Bella and Lilly.”
“Sounds as though we’ll have to buy another trunk, as well,” John teased. “For how else will we be able to transport all of the things you purchased for Mintie, as well as these new gifts?”
Addie frowned. She hadn’t thought of the cost. She’d been guilty of spending John’s money quite freely, in fact. “Oh, I am sorry, John. I hadn’t considered the extravagance of it all.”
“I’m not chiding you for your choices, my dear. I’m teasing you. We will purchase whatever your heart desires. Even if we need to buy ten trunks to haul it all back. I have made my fortune and am quite capable of providing for you.”
“But your generosity is beyond anything I’ve ever known.” Addie gave her husband a smile. “Even the Judge didn’t spoil Mintie and me as much as this.” The thought of her departed father reminded her again of Jarrow Farnsworth’s own impending death. “What do you suppose your father would enjoy as a gift?”
“I do believe there are some wonderful new books available in the shop just around the corner from the house. I was down there the . . .” John fell silent. Addie watched as he slowly turned.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” He turned back around, shaking his head. “I just felt a chill run up my spine—as if someone were watching me.”
“Oh, John, you don’t suppose . . .”
He smiled and lifted his cup. “It’s nothing. Someone probably opened the door, then changed their mind about coming in. That’s all.”
“Still, perhaps we should return home. We’ve been gone a long time.”
John looked as though he might refuse but then nodded. “Perhaps you’re right.” He quickly paid the bill and collected their coats.
They said nothing as they exited the teahouse, but John continued to look over his shoulder. “Do you mind if we just walk?” he asked.
Addie couldn’t help but notice the edge to his voice, but she made no comment. Nodding, she looped her arm through John’s. His body was unyielding, almost rigid. Something wasn’t right, but she could see he didn’t want to discuss it. Forcing a smile, she pulled him along. “Look, it’s starting to snow.”
John glanced to the lead gray skies overhead and back to Addie. “Yes. It’s grown colder—we’d best hurry.”
CHAPTER 8
Lowell
Irresistible excitement captured Daughtie’s imagination as she thought of the note she’d received earlier that day. She quickly gathered the goods to be distributed in the Acre, anxious to be on her way. Over these past weeks, her routine had not varied. Each Tuesday evening she would take the items completed by the Ladies Aid to the storage room in the circulating library. But tonight was different. Tonight Liam Donohue was to meet her and load the boxes into his wagon for delivery to the Catholic priest, who would distribute the items to the Acre’s Irish residents. Weeks had passed since she’d last seen Liam. She thought of the wink he’d leveled in her direction at the Cheevers’ house. Once again, she pulled the scrap of paper from her skirt pocket and read it.
I look forward to seeing you this evening. Liam Donohue
Daughtie’s lips curved into a faint smile while considering these words. He could have simply written I’ll arrive at eight o’clock. Instead, his message revealed he was looking forward to seeing her. Her heart quickened at the thought. Then Daughtie chastised herself. She was likely reading more into his message than he’d intended. Liam was simply being polite, she decided. Yet there had been no need for him to send her a note at all. He knew Lilly Cheever was going to advise her of his arrival. Perhaps he was looking forward to seeing her. She packed the last hand-stitched quilt into the box and bounded down the stairs, a bright smile on her face.
Ruth was seated in the parlor and glanced up from the book she was reading. “You appear cheerful this evening,” she remarked.
Daughtie pulled her cloak from one of the wooden pegs that lined the wall beside the front door. “I always enjoy working at the library. I’ll talk to you when I get home if you’re still awake.”
“If you happen to see a book I might enjoy, would you sign it out for me? I’ve only a few pages to read before I’ll be finished with this one.”
“I’ll inspect the shelves for any new offerings,” Daughtie promised before hurrying out the door. She didn’t want Ruth to draw her into a lengthy conversation. Even though it was early, Daughtie didn’t want to run the risk of missing Liam.
The weight of the box had caused her steps to slow, but the library clock revealed she was still a half hour early. “Good evening, Mrs. Potter,” she called out while placing the heavy box on the floor just inside the front door.
“Good evening, Daughtie,” the older woman greeted, rounding one of the bookshelves and walking toward the front of the store. She glanced toward the clock above the checkout desk. “You’re early this evening.”
Daughtie nodded. “If you’d like to get home a few minutes early, I don’t mind if you leave now.”
“Only if you’re certain it wouldn’t be an inconvenience. I haven’t been overly busy today. In fact, I was dusting shelves to keep myself occupied.”
“The new books we ordered haven’t arrived, have they?”
Mrs. Potter shuffled through the papers on top of the desk. “We received a partial shipment the day before yesterday, but I’ve already cataloged and shelved them, and I’ve posted the past due notices.”
“No wonder you’re dusting shelves,” Daughtie replied with a grin. “I’ll have to hope there are a lot of people anxious to borrow books this evening if I’m to keep myself busy.”
Mrs. Potter fastened her cape and then removed a small reticule from the bottom drawer of the desk. “Well, I’ll be off. You’re on the schedule for next week,” she reminded Daughtie while pointing toward the list atop the desk.
Once Mrs. Potter had exited the building, Daughtie picked up the list of recently purchased books. Making her way up and down the aisles, she pulled a number of volumes from the shelves and carried them to the front desk. Surely among all these selections she could find something intriguing for Ruth.
The clock above the desk slowly ticked off the minutes. Several girls came in looking for specific titles, a few girls returned books they had borrowed, and one or two sheepishly returned overdue books and quickly paid their fines. Mrs. Potter would be pleased. Daughtie carefully drew a line through the names posted on the past due notice and once again returned to the volumes she’d pulled from the shelf. The bell over the front door jingled, and Daughtie glanced up from her reading.
Liam Donohue was pulling off his cap as he approached the desk.
“Good evenin’, Miss Winfield.”
“Good evening, Mr. Donohue. I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten,” she said, giving him a sweet smile.
He stood directly in front of her, looking down into her eyes. “I’d never be forgettin’ something so important as comin’ here tonight.”
The odd sensation she’d experienced when she last saw Liam returned in full force, once again taking her by surprise. However, she wasn’t certain if Liam meant he wouldn’t forget something as important as picking up the items for the Acre or if he meant he wouldn’t forget coming to see her. She hoped it was the latter yet felt embarrassed to admit such a thing—even if only to herself.
“Is it this box here?” he asked while pointing toward the items she’d carried into the library earlier in the evening.
“No. Well, yes—but that’s not everything.”
He gave her a hearty laugh. “I was wonderin’ why I’d be needin’ my wagon if there was only this one box to be hauled off. Have you been keepin’ yarself busy this evenin’?”
“Not too busy. I’ve been glancing through a few of these books to pass the time.”
“Perhaps I should be seein’ if you ’ave a book on how to fancy up a house. Do you have a book such as that?” His Irish lilt delighted her senses.
“A home decorating book? You want something that explains how to enhance the beauty of your home?”
Liam grinned and nodded. “Aye. The construction of me house has finally been completed. I’m generally pleased with the outer appearance, but the inside lacks a woman’s touch.”
“Oh—that’s the most exciting part—decorating the interior. Of course, flower gardens can also provide a challenge,” she quickly added. “The Shakers believed in stark simplicity, which I found boring. I believe God wants us to create and enjoy beauty. Lilly Cheever has decorated her home with simple elegance, don’t you think? She must have found such pleasure in beautifying their home.”
“I’m thinkin’ my house could best be described as Spartan tawdriness,” he said with a chuckle. “If ya’d like to be tryin’ your hand at some decorating, I’d be happy to employ you to give mine a bit o’ that simple elegance.”
“Truly?” Daughtie could barely contain her excitement. “When can I begin?”
“Whenever you like. You pick out the items ya’ll be needin’. Just go to the shops, have them record the purchases against me name for payment, and let me know when ya’re ready to begin.”
Daughtie hesitated for a moment. “I’d best see the house first, don’t you think? I’d hardly know how to decorate it until I’ve seen the rooms.”
Liam laughed. “And for sure ya’re right. A tour of the house would likely be helpful. How about Saturday evenin’? You get off work early on Saturdays, don’t ya?”
“Yes, I can come immediately after work if you’ll give me directions.”
He paused for a moment, a frown crossing his expression. “Ya don’t think people would be condemnin’ ya if ya were to be alone with me?” His Irish intonations were more prominent as he voiced this new concern.
“I truly don’t care what other people think, Mr. Donohue. Besides, this isn’t Boston. Lowell is much more open to women moving about and doing things on their own. After all, if they allow us to sweat and toil at the mills, they must give us time to move about and tend to business. They call us progressive here, but I simply believe it’s just as the good Lord intended.”
Liam studied her a moment and smiled. “Well, then, let us not hinder progress.”
Liam took the paper she offered, penned his address, and drew a simple map. “If I’m not there by the time you arrive, just be lettin’ yarself in. The key is under the flagstone to the right of the front door. Now that I’ve resolved my decoratin’ problems, I suppose I should get busy loadin’ the boxes,” he said.
“The other items are in the storage room. I carried them with me each week when I came to work. There’s more room for storage here at the library than at Mrs. Arnold’s house,” she explained. “Back here,” she said, stepping from behind the desk and directing him to the rear of the library.
“All of these?” he asked, glancing into the room and then back at Daughtie.
“Yes,” Daughtie replied. “And those along the wall, also.”
“Now I understand the need for a wagon,” he said, folding his cap in half and tucking it into the back pocket of his work trousers. He stacked several boxes on top of one another and hoisted them into his arms. Daughtie followed his lead and began to lift one of the parcels. “You needn’t be liftin’ these heavy boxes,” he quickly said. “If you’ll just take care of openin’ and closin’ the door, I’d be most appreciative. I don’t want to be lettin’ all that cold air blow in here.”
Daughtie hurried ahead of him to open the front door. She watched him in fascination as he made trip after trip. When the last boxes had been loaded, Liam returned inside. “I’m guessin’ that’s everythin’?”
Daughtie bobbed her head up and down. However, she didn’t want him to leave so soon. “Will you be delivering the parcels this week?” she asked.
He moved away from the door and drew closer. “That’s up to Father Rooney to decide. I told him I’d be bringing the boxes by later tonight. I’ll leave them with him for distribution. I’m thinkin’ he’s goin’ to be mighty pleased. I doubt he was expectin’ so much.”
“I’m glad we can help. There are so many people who need help and so few willing to lend a hand. Don’t you think?”
Liam raked his fingers through the mass of dark curls, pushing them back off his forehead. “That’s a fact. And I know for certain there’s plenty o’ needy folks down in the Acre that appreciate any help they can get.”
“I grew up among the Shakers, where everyone was cared for and none of us lived any better than the other. We shared in the work as well as the fruits of our labor. Living in the world is much different. I hadn’t realized there was such an immense division between classes of people. Bella tried to explain to me before we left—she’d lived in the world before her family joined the Shakers. But, of course, I couldn’t completely understand the concept. Are you planning to attend the antislavery meeting?”
Liam had a puzzled expression on his face. “My, but you do go jumpin’ from one topic to another very quickly, don’t you? I’m not certain what a Shaker is, and now you’re askin’ about the antislavery meetin’,” he said with a broad smile.
She cocked her head to one side. “No, I don’t suppose you would know about the Shakers. It’s a religious sect. The United Society of Believers in Christ’s Second Appearing organized in England, and the group has now become commonly known as Shakers. I don’t know if any of them made their way into Ireland, but they were run out of England,” she added.
“I see. Well, there appear to be any number of those in this country. It’s difficult for a person to decide what to believe.”
Daughtie snapped to attention. “You don’t know what you believe?”
“Oh, I believe in God,” he replied. His tone was noncommittal. “But I think it’s a wee bit late in the evenin’ to be gettin’ into a religious discussion. We’ll save that for another time when I don’t have to make a delivery. But in answer to your earlier question, I am plannin’ on attendin’ the antislavery meeting.”
“Would you like to go with me? I mean, since you’re going and I’m going, we could attend together,” she stammered.
He twisted his cap with both hands and looked her straight in the eyes. “Do ya not realize that a lass such as yarself ought not be seen in public with the likes o’ me? Ya’ll be shunned by yar own kind for such behavior. It would not be good for either of us.” Again, his Irish brogue thickened with every word.
“I don’t understand. Obviously you didn’t see a problem with my helping decorate your home. Why is attending a meeting with me any different?”
“As I mentioned earlier, what others think has never been of great importance to me. I’ve always been more concerned about God’s opinion regarding my conduct. We’re both His creatures, and I doubt He’d frown upon the two of us attending an antislavery meeting together.”
Liam shook his head. “Ya’ve led a sheltered life, Miss Daughtie Winfield, of that there’s little doubt. I’ll not come calling at yar door, but I’d be pleased to sit beside ya should there be a vacant seat when I arrive,” he replied with a grin. Tugging his cap down on his forehead, he went to the door, turned back toward her . . . and winked.
The bell over the front door jingled, and Liam jumped aside, barely avoiding the heavy door as Ruth thrust it open. Daughtie watched Ruth edge past him while drawing her cloak close about her, as though touching Liam might somehow contaminate her.
Liam tipped his cap. “Good night to you, Miss Win-field,” he said and then was gone.
Ruth stared at the door momentarily and then turned her attention back to Daughtie. “What is an Irishman doing in the library? I’d think if he wanted to borrow a book, he’d go to the Mechanics Association library before he’d come here and bother you. I doubt he can even read.” Her words were filled with utter disdain.
“That was Liam Donohue. Didn’t you recognize him? He came to collect the items going to the Acre, Ruth. And what’s wrong with the Irish using this library? They have a right to improve their minds the same as anyone else, don’t they?”
Ruth shuddered, a look of dismay etched upon her face. “You know I’m willing to help with making goods and donating old clothing to the downtrodden, and I’m in favor of lending our assistance to the Irish. But the Irish belong in their part of town, and we belong in ours. I don’t go into the Acre, and it’s probably best if they don’t come into our part of town.”
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