Tracie Peterson & Judith Miller - [Lights of Lowell 01] (32 page)

‘‘Perhaps I could ask Sarah,’’ she murmured.

The housekeeper had a small corner area off the kitchen with little room for anything more than her narrow bed and a small chest. But Kiara needed only a sliver of space on the floor, and she knew Bradley would never pull aside the curtain and check in the housekeeper’s quarters. She wondered if the austere old woman might take pity upon her or instead rush to Bradley and report the Irish girl was making terrible accusations against him. When she delivered the package to the mistress, she would inquire if Mr.

Houston would be returning to Boston soon.

Paddy came running around the side of the house as she neared the driveway. ‘‘Where ya been, Kiara?’’

‘‘Off to take care o’ some business fer the missus. I’ve got no time fer talkin’, Paddy. I got to get this package delivered.’’

‘‘What’s wrong with ya, Kiara? Ya’re never havin’ time fer me anymore. Ya’re actin’ angry, like I’ve done somethin’ bad. I do na know what’s made ya so unhappy with me.’’

Kiara tousled his black curls and kissed his cheek. ‘‘I’m not angry with you, Paddy. There’s problems that go on in the house that make life difficult for me. I wish there was some way we could get out o’ this place. I wish I could be workin’ in the mills and live in the Acre like Bridgett.’’

‘‘I’m sorry ya’re so sad, Kiara. I wish ya liked it here. Except fer missin’ Ma and Pa, this is the best place on earth as fer as I’m concerned.’’

His words tugged at her heart. ‘‘I know, Paddy, and I’m thankful fer that. Now get on with ya. I’ve got to take this to the missus.’’ He dashed off but then turned around. He hurried back and grabbed her around the waist, giving her a tight squeeze. ‘‘I love ya, Kiara.’’

She held him close for a moment. ‘‘And I love ya right back, Paddy O’Neill.’’ He ran off toward the barn, and Kiara hurried into the house with her parcels.

‘‘I’ve brought ya a package from Mrs. Paxton. She said ya were expectin’ it.’’ Kiara handed the parcel to her mistress and hesitated for a moment.

Jasmine held the parcel close but made no move to unwrap it.

‘‘Was there something else you needed?’’

‘‘I was wonderin’ if Mr. Bradley would be goin’ to Boston sometime soon?’’

Jasmine appeared surprised by the question. ‘‘I don’t believe he’ll be going until sometime next week. Why do you ask?’’

‘‘I was thinkin’ maybe I could go to visit Bridgett on Sunday if he was goin’ ta be in Boston.’’

‘‘Oh, I see. I think your visit will have to wait until the following Sunday. However, if Bradley should be called out of town before then, I’ll be certain to let you go visiting.’’

‘‘That’s fine. Thank ya, ma’am.’’

She walked out of the room filled with a sense of despair.

Spending any more time in that cramped space beneath the stairway would be unbearable. She’d have to take a chance and talk to Sarah.

After helping wash up the supper dishes, Kiara had just begun to make her way down the hallway when a hand clamped around her wrist and pulled her into the parlor and onward into Bradley’s library.

He stood with his back against the closed door, his jaw flexing, his teeth clenched in anger. He pulled her against his chest, holding her tight against his body, his arm wrapped around her back.

She struggled to free herself, but he grabbed her hair and yanked until her face was turned upward. He forced his mouth on hers, crushing her lips and twisting her arm until she thought it would snap in two. Her scalp ached with pain, and she wondered if he would pull every hair from her head before he was through with her.

‘‘Where have you been hiding? I’ve been to your room every night, and you’ve been gone.’’ His grasp on her hair tightened.

‘‘Now you listen well, girl. You be in your room when I come to you at night or your brother will be sailing for New Orleans next week to make a new life for himself on a cotton plantation. Do you understand me?’’

Fear coursed through her body like a wellspring. ‘‘Yes,’’ she whispered.

‘‘You foolish girl. Did you think you could hide from me for the next five years?’’

‘‘Bradley? Are you in the library?’’

Bradley pushed Kiara away. ‘‘I’ll join you in a few minutes,’’ he called out, his body still resting against the door. ‘‘I’ll leave this door slightly ajar when I leave the room. Watch until it’s safe for you to exit the other way without being seen. And remember, if anything goes amiss and Jasmine discovers our affection for each other, your brother will be gone and you’ll never see him again.’’

Kiara stared at him in disbelief. ‘‘
Our
affection? I detest you.’’

He chucked her under the chin and gave a husky laugh. ‘‘I think Jasmine would believe
me
if I told her you’ve been attempting to steal my affections. It would be quite easy to convince her you’ve tried to bargain for your freedom by plying me with your favors.’’

Kiara remained silent until he departed the room. ‘‘Ya’re the devil himself,’’ she murmured as she watched him leave the room with his head held high.

Bradley entered the parlor with a sense of jubilation. He had Kiara in his clutches, and there was no way for her to escape. He walked to where his wife was seated, leaned down, and placed a dutiful kiss upon her cheek. ‘‘And what did you accomplish today?’’ he asked.

Jasmine smiled up at him. ‘‘You’ll be pleased to hear that I went to visit with Lilly Cheever today. She mentioned there’s a meeting of the Associates tomorrow.’’

‘‘Did you think I would not already know there is a meeting, or did you believe me too senile to remember?’’

She cowered at his remark. ‘‘No, but I was alarmed when she told me there is great concern because many of the mill girls are desperately ill and several have even died. She said the doctors fear there’s some sort of epidemic being spread among them.’’

‘‘Why are you so concerned?’’ he absently inquired.

‘‘I’ve seen the horrible results of an epidemic. We fight malaria and suffer dire consequences almost every year in Mississippi.’’

Bradley glanced over his shoulder in an attempt to see if Kiara had made her way out of the library. There was work that needed his attention and he certainly didn’t want to sit in the parlor with his wife for the remainder of the evening. The door remained slightly ajar and he could not make out if she had exited the room.

Following his gaze, Jasmine leaned forward and peered toward the library. ‘‘Is something amiss? You keep looking toward the other room.’’

‘‘Nothing’s amiss. You need not concern yourself with my every movement.’’

She appeared taken aback by his abrupt reply. ‘‘I understand the conditions in the mills grow poorer every day,’’ she relayed.

‘‘I’ve been told the windows are nailed shut, and with the steam and humidity in the mills, the fiber-filled air becomes deadly for the girls to breathe. I wonder if the girls are becoming ill because their bodies can no longer tolerate the conditions inside the mills.’’

Bradley was relieved to note the library door was now open.

He wanted nothing more than to escape his wife’s company and complete his accounting tasks prior to tomorrow’s meeting.

He rubbed the back of his neck and glowered in her direction.

‘‘Why are you meddling in matters about which you know nothing? You need to keep out of issues relating to my business.’’

‘‘What? But I thought you asked me to mingle with the wives and collect information for you. I’m merely doing as you asked. It seems nothing I do can please you.’’

‘‘I have no time for your childish behavior, Jasmine. I have work to complete.’’ He stormed from the room, knowing she’d not follow after him.

He worked well into the night, transferring and calculating figures, and when he’d finally completed his report for tomorrow’s meeting, he was exhausted. He climbed the stairs while giving momentary thought to Kiara. Tomorrow, he decided. He needed his rest if he was to be at his best in the morning. Besides, let her worry when and if he might enter her room.

The little tramp deserves to be sleepless after the way she’s led me on
a chase
.

Bradley arrived at the Cheever home the next morning promptly at nine o’clock. As had been Kirk Boott’s custom before him, Matthew Cheever refrained from conducting meetings within the confines of the mills. Too many people could overhear and misinterpret conversations that had never been intended for their ears. Bradley would have preferred they meet in Boston since he had other business that needed his attention in the city. However, Matthew wanted the mill supervisors present at the gathering, and traveling to Boston for a meeting was out of the question for them.

There would be no period of socializing; it was apparent this meeting would be strictly relegated to business. ‘‘As most of you know, we’ve a problem with illness spreading throughout the mills,’’ Matthew began. ‘‘Several girls have died, and there’s fear of other deaths. The doctors have been unable to find a cause for the epidemic. There appears to be no connection other than the fact that those contracting the illness have been, almost exclusively, girls working in the mills.’’

‘‘Do the girls who have become ill live in the boardinghouses?’’ Leonard Montrose inquired.

Matthew shook his head. ‘‘Some live in the boardinghouses; some live elsewhere in town; some live in the Acre.’’

‘‘Any chance it could be the water?’’ Andrew Smith, one of the supervisors, suggested.

‘‘If it were the water, the rest of us would be ill too. It seems there must be some common thread, but for the life of me, I’ve been unable to make the connection.’’

Bradley waved and Matthew nodded for him to speak. ‘‘I was hoping we’d have time to discuss expanding several Southern markets.’’

‘‘Let’s stick to the topic at hand,’’ Matthew replied. ‘‘We need to focus our attention upon discovering the cause of this illness and hopefully finding a cure.’’

‘‘Perhaps we should interview the girls and ascertain all of the details related to their illness. We could then compare notes and see if we can discover the common thread Matthew spoke of,’’ Wilson Harper remarked.

‘‘I’ve located several good prospects in Mississippi as well as in Louisiana who are willing to talk contracts on their cotton,’’ Bradley interjected.

‘‘In light of the fact that we’re attempting to solve the mystery of the illnesses and deaths of these mill girls, Bradley, I find your self-serving attitude abrasive,’’ Leonard said.

Bradley scoffed at the remark. ‘‘Really? Well, I don’t think any of you fine gentlemen were overly concerned about the girls and their illness until production slowed and your profits began to drop. Now that we’re experiencing diminished profits, you’ve donned the cloak of kindness and wave your sword of self-righteousness in my direction. Your behavior emulates my own, whether you care to admit it or not.’’

‘‘We’ll resolve nothing by arguing,’’ Matthew asserted. ‘‘Wilson, will you head up a committee to interview the ill workers?’’

Wilson nodded his agreement.

‘‘I think we need to be mindful of the fact that some of these girls have little in the way of savings,’’ Matthew continued. ‘‘Many, both Yankee and Irish, help support their families with their earnings. Some have no families here in Lowell to help care for them, and certainly few have money to pay for funerals. I think it would behoove us to pay for medical care for the girls and, when necessary, funeral expenses.’’

A murmur of discontent filtered across the room. ‘‘I’m all for trying to find the cause of this illness, but I don’t see why you think the Corporation should be saddled with yet another expense when production profits are already down,’’ Leonard objected.

‘‘The better their care, the quicker they’ll return to their jobs and the sooner profits will rise,’’ Matthew replied.

‘‘There are more and more Irish arriving every day. All of them are looking for work, and they’ll work for lower wages. I say we’d be better off to replace the sick girls with Irish immigrants,’’ Wilson countered.

One of the supervisors stood and asked to be recognized. ‘‘No disrespect, gentlemen, but it takes time to train these girls. You can’t expect a girl who has never worked in the mills to produce at the level of those who’ve been working there for months or even years. Production will continue to falter using such a method.

I bring this to your attention because I know you’ll be looking to the supervisors for answers when you’ve filled all the positions yet there’s no increase in production.’’

‘‘Exactly my point,’’ Matthew agreed. ‘‘Medical care and funeral expenses will be money well spent in goodwill and the return of trained employees.’’

The men continued their bickering, and it was abundantly obvious to Bradley there would be little time for discussion of his cotton if this matter was not resolved. ‘‘I suggest we agree to medical and funeral care but require the girls to sign a covenant agreeing to return to work for a specified period of time or they’ll be obligated to repay the costs. The funeral expenses can be a matter of goodwill. We can hope there will be no more deaths, but if so, perhaps you can work out some arrangement with Mr. Morrison at the funeral home, Matthew. Some type of discount for the Corporation if the number of funerals exceeds three or four in the next several months.’’

‘‘A bit morbid in nature, but I think you’ve struck upon a good idea,’’ Leonard replied.

In quick order the men reached a consensus. ‘‘Now, about my cotton producers,’’ Bradley said, knowing his solution had gained him power for the moment.

Kiara heard Bradley’s footsteps on the stairs and, like a lamb to the slaughter, knew she must submit to his will. He held her brother’s future in his hands, and she could not risk separation from him. Even if she could bear five years apart from him, it would be impossible for Paddy to withstand the rigors of working on a cotton plantation. He would surely die. So she lay quietly, listening for the door to open, awaiting Bradley’s arrival like a dreaded curse.

Oh, God, forgive me,
she prayed as the door handle turned.
Just
keep him from takin’ Paddy away. I can bear anything . . . anything but
that
.