Tracie Peterson & Judith Miller - [Lights of Lowell 01] (27 page)

‘‘Don’t fret. This will be fun. We’ll go and purchase everything you need. Then, tomorrow you’ll spend the day sewing instead of worrying about household duties. We’ll get materials for Paddy as well, so make a list of what you’ll need to make the boy at least three shirts and two pairs of trousers.’’

‘‘For sure I don’t know what to say,’’ Kiara murmured.

Jasmine smiled. ‘‘Say nothing at all.’’

Kiara jumped up from her chair, obviously anxious to hasten back to her duties. But before she could escape, Jasmine grasped the girl’s hand. ‘‘Are you happy here, Kiara? I know you’d be happier in Ireland if you could have stayed, but are you reasonably comfortable here with us?’’

She hesitated briefly. ‘‘I’m very fond of you, ma’am, and this is a lovely house. Sure and it’s finer than anyplace I ever hoped to live in. And Paddy’s happy workin’ with the horses.’’

‘‘And Master Bradley?’’ Jasmine inquired.

Kiara’s eyes grew as cloudy as the fog-layered moors of Ireland.

‘‘He can be a bit frightenin’ at times, ma’am, but I’ll not be sayin’ a single bad word about yar husband. I’m just thankful the two of us are alive and together. Now, I best be gettin’ back to me chores.

Cook will be needin’ me soon.’’

Jasmine nodded. She wouldn’t force Kiara to talk about Bradley— she didn’t need to. The girl’s fears were evident.

‘‘They’ve quite a selection of thread, ma’am. A bit thicker than I like, but we can make do even if it’s not quite so fine.’’

‘‘Let’s take a look over here,’’ Jasmine suggested while leading the way through the emporium, which was beginning to hum with activity. Mill girls, anxious to see the new merchandise advertised in the newspaper, swarmed into the store in groups of five and six, their chatter carrying throughout the store, while several were overcome with fits of coughing.

‘‘Mrs. Paxton, did you get your shipment of Dr. Horatio’s Spice of Life?’’ one of the girls inquired.

‘‘Yes, indeed. We received a full shipment this morning, and I’ve already placed another order. It seems all of you girls are beginning to use Dr. Horatio’s rejuvenating spirits. Before long, I won’t be able to keep up with the demand.’’

‘‘You should try it, Mrs. Paxton. It helps my cough and boosts my energy. Ask any of the girls who have used it. Why, it’s not only given me more energy, I’ve found it makes my life more pleasant.’’

‘‘What she says is true,’’ another girl agreed. ‘‘Before I would leave the weaving room feeling completely exhausted, what with the hot, damp rooms and not being able to open the windows for a bit of fresh air. Then I began taking Spice of Life, and within a day or two, I was feeling like a new person—full of energy, not coughing nearly so much, and enjoying myself again.’’

Jasmine approached the counter where the girls were standing and picked up a bottle of the cathartic. ‘‘Forgive me for interrupting, but did I overhear you say you’ve found remedial success with this product?’’

‘‘Absolutely! Why, the medicinal value of Dr. Horatio’s spirits is unsurpassed. Those of us working in the mills have found it extremely beneficial. Of course, we’re required to work in conditions that you aren’t likely to endure. Employment in those mills can drain the very life out of you, but after only a few doses of Dr.

Horatio’s, I feel wonderful again.’’

Jasmine held on to the bottle. ‘‘Thank you for taking time to explain the benefits of the product. I believe I may purchase a bottle,’’ Jasmine remarked as she watched the girl purchase four bottles of the remedy before leaving the store.

‘‘Are ya feelin’ poorly, missus, that ya think ya need that mixture?’’ Kiara inquired.

‘‘I’ve just not been able to regain my strength. Perhaps this will help.’’

Kiara shook her head. ‘‘I’m guessin’ there’s nothin’ but a dose of whiskey and water, along with a bit o’ flavorin’ and perhaps a few herbs in that bottle, missus. Ya’re feelin’ tired because of yar condition. It’s just the growin’ babe sappin’ yar energy.’’

‘‘I’ve talked to other ladies, and they’ve been able to maintain their normal routine without this constant weariness. I think Dr.

Horatio’s mixture might be worth a try. Besides, were the contents merely whiskey, I doubt whether these girls would be having such impressive results. The fact that Mrs. Paxton can’t keep it in stock is evidence of its benefit.’’

‘‘Mr. McCorkey could na keep enough ale in the pub on payday either, but that did na mean the ale was helpin’ them what was drinkin’ it.’’ Kiara held the bottle at arm’s length and examined the label, which was emblazoned with the picture of a distinguished-looking bearded man. ‘‘I’m thinkin’ your Dr. Horatio’s elixir is no different than Mr. McCorkey’s ale.’’

Jasmine took back the bottle. ‘‘And I’m certain Mrs. Paxton wouldn’t sell alcoholic spirits. I know for a fact that she’s an upstanding member of the Lowell Temperance Union and extremely opposed to the use of intoxicants.’’ Jasmine moved closer to Kiara and lowered her voice. ‘‘My grandmother told me that Mrs. Paxton’s father was an alcoholic and very mean to her.

Furthermore, Mrs. Paxton blames his early death upon his drinking habits. Under the circumstances, I don’t think you’d find her willing to sell alcoholic substances.’’

Kiara handed a bobbin of thread to Jasmine without further comment regarding Dr. Horatio’s Spice of Life. ‘‘I believe this thread will do nicely.’’

Jasmine nodded her agreement, ignored Kiara’s disapproving look, and added two bottles of elixir to the pile of lace-making supplies. ‘‘Now let’s go look over the materials for your new dresses.’’ Kiara followed Jasmine across the store.

‘‘Why, Mrs. Brighton,’’ Jasmine exclaimed as she turned a corner. ‘‘I’ve not had a chance to speak with you since returning to Lowell.’’

Elinor Brighton smiled in greeting, but her eyes remained filled with grief. ‘‘Yes, it has been quite some time. How are you?’’

‘‘I’m doing well, thank you for asking.’’ Jasmine turned to Kiara. ‘‘This is Kiara O’Neill. She’s working for us now.’’

Kiara curtsied. ‘‘Pleased to meet ya, ma’am.’’

‘‘Thank you.’’

‘‘Kiara makes lace,’’ Jasmine said, anxious for something else to say. ‘‘We’ve come for supplies.’’

‘‘I learned to tat a bit when I was a girl,’’ Elinor told them.

‘‘I’m sure I’ve forgotten much of what I learned for lack of practice.’’ ‘‘No doubt it would come back to ya, ma’am.’’

Elinor seemed to consider the statement. ‘‘Yes, you are probably right.’’ She sighed and looked once again to Jasmine. ‘‘I must be on my way. I do bid you have a good day, Mrs. Houston.’’

‘‘And you, Mrs. Brighton.’’

Jasmine waited until Elinor had exited the store before turning to Kiara. ‘‘There is a sad soul to be sure. She has lost two husbands in a short span of time, and she has not even one child to offer her comfort in their passing.’’

‘‘Poor thing. She’s quite a beauty, even in her sorrow,’’ Kiara said softly.

‘‘Yes, she is,’’ Jasmine agreed, thinking how tragic that Elinor should so pine for her dead husband while Jasmine could barely endure the sight of Bradley.

‘‘There’ll be no comfort for her,’’ Kiara said, shaking her head.

‘‘Me ma was that way when Da passed on. He took her broken heart to the grave, same as Mrs. Brighton’s husband has done for her.’’

Jasmine felt strangely sad to know that such a thing would never be her fate with Bradley. Bradley would never break her heart—because she’d never give it to him in the first place.

Over the past three days, Bradley had diligently worked on the accounts in his Boston shipping office and was thankful the Associates were assembling for dinner this evening before commencement of the series of meetings scheduled over the next few days.

He was in desperate need of a diversion from the tiresome columns of numbers. Not that his time hadn’t been well spent. The accounts of Bradley’s oceangoing business now reflected the company’s profits and losses over the past six months—at least in the manner in which he desired to have them appear. There remained a number of documents that required his attention, but he would attend to those after his meetings with the Associates had concluded. He slipped into his waistcoat and checked his appearance in the mirror. Passable, he decided, for a dinner meeting in the hostelry. He walked down the wide staircase of the newly constructed hotel, thankful both the dinner and meeting would be held in the dining room of the facility.

He waved a greeting to Matthew Cheever and James Morgan, who were entering the door as he reached the foyer. ‘‘Gentlemen, good to see you. I trust your journey from Lowell was pleasant.’’

‘‘We looked for you on the train,’’ Matthew said. ‘‘You must have come in earlier this morning.’’

‘‘I arrived several days ago—business with my shipping company that needed attention,’’ he explained. ‘‘We might as well go into the dining room and see if any of the others have arrived.

Personally, I could use a glass of port.’’

Bradley gave James a gentle poke in the side as they entered the dining room. ‘‘Looks like quite a few of our members were anxious for a glass of port.’’

‘‘Either that or anxious to solicit one another’s votes on impending issues,’’ James said.

‘‘Speaking of concerns, I’m hoping you’ll join with me when Robert Woolsey begins pushing for more railroads.’’

‘‘I didn’t realize Robert was going to become a strong proponent for additional rail lines.’’

‘‘It only stands to reason. He and Tracy Jackson were the strongest proponents of the railroad from the very start. Now, with Tracy’s death, he’ll likely propose increased railroad usage as some sort of memorial for him. I’m certain he’ll think such a concept will garner sympathy votes. Of course, you and I know the only reason he’ll be pushing the railroad is because he’s so heavily invested.’’

James peered over the top of his wire-rimmed spectacles.

‘‘We’re all a bit self-serving, aren’t we, Bradley? Besides, with Nathan now partial owner of a shipping line, I’m sure he’ll be swaying the members in a direction that will please you.’’

‘‘Perhaps, but I’ve grown to believe some of the men have begun to vote in opposition to Nathan for that very reason—they believe his holdings surpass the rest of them, and they’ve grown jealous of his powerful position.’’

‘‘You could be correct, although I’ve not heard such talk. If you’ll excuse me, I want to have a word with Leonard.’’

Bradley watched James walk off and then surveyed the room in an attempt to decide which group of men might be won over to his position. Matthew Cheever was with a small conclave that might possibly shed some light on the evening’s agenda. He wended his way through the crowd, stopping to shake hands and exchange civilities with several men along the way. He was only an arm’s length away from Matthew when they were summoned to dinner.

Unfortunately, he found himself lodged between two lesser-distinguished Associates. However, instead of becoming disheartened, he used the time advantageously, quickly assessing their views and lobbying their support. By the time the meeting began, he was convinced they would support anything he proposed throughout the meeting. And after several hours of heated argument regarding railroads and seagoing vessels, Bradley was certain he would need their votes.

Bradley’s evening of diversion was hastily turning into a nightmare. Feeling he could take no more of the avid support for rail usage, he jumped up from his chair and waved his arm high in the air.

Matthew Cheever gave him a look of exasperation. ‘‘I believe we’ve all heard your opinion on this issue, Bradley. I’d like to move forward and call for a vote.’’

‘‘Before you do, I believe there are a few matters the members should hear.’’

‘‘Very well.’’ Matthew motioned for him to come to the front and take the floor.

‘‘As many of you are aware, I have been diligently working to provide our mills with ample cotton to continue production at a steady pace. Much of that cotton comes from the Wainwright plantations; those contracts were implemented with the understanding that the cotton would be shipped on vessels belonging to me or other members of the Boston Associates at a reduced rate. I redirect your attention to this fact because I’m assured that if my wife’s family should be required to pay higher prices for shipping their goods, they would consider their contracts invalid and likely return to the English marketplace.’’

Murmurs of dissension could be heard throughout the room.

‘‘Sounds like you’re using the family cotton as a bartering tool!’’ one of the men near the back of the room called out.

Bradley rested his hands upon the table and leaned forward toward the crowd with his jaw tightly clenched. ‘‘I’m merely telling you the facts.’’

Matthew stood and called for silence while motioning the men to be seated. ‘‘There’s no need to resort to mayhem. We’ll resolve nothing by shouting angry accusations. Bradley wanted us to make an informed decision based upon facts that weren’t previously known to us. He ought not be the recipient of your anger merely because he’s related to the Wainwrights.’’

‘‘Thank you, Matthew, for your support,’’ Bradley said.

‘‘I didn’t mean to imply my support, Bradley. I’m merely offering an explanation.’’

But apparently his words, along with Nathan’s long-winded speech about the cost of additional railroads when ships were already available, had a positive effect upon the men. When the vote was finally taken, the tally was in favor of transporting by ship whenever possible.

Several days later, as Bradley sat in the office of his shipping business, a pleasurable smile crossed his lips. Things had gone very well for him during this journey. He leaned back in his chair thinking of the dark-haired Irish girl at home—thoughts he knew he ought not be having.

‘‘I’ll be back later this afternoon,’’ he told the clerk sitting near the door.

He hailed a carriage near the docks and instructed the driver to stop in the business district. After passing several shops, he entered a store specializing in ladies’ apparel. When he left the store a short time later, he carried a carefully wrapped blue silk robe under his arm.

‘‘Perhaps she’ll be less inclined to move away from me when she sees what I can offer her in return for her affections,’’ Bradley murmured to himself.