Tracie Peterson & Judith Miller - [Lights of Lowell 01] (37 page)

‘‘That was uncalled for, Bradley,’’ voiced Alice. ‘‘Your wife is recuperating from childbirth, and she needs your encouragement, not a callous rejoinder.’’

‘‘We’ll consider a visit when Spencer is older.’’ He leaned down and brushed a kiss upon Jasmine’s cheek. ‘‘I must go downstairs and attend to business matters. I’ll come back up to see you later in the day.’’

‘‘Of course. I don’t expect you to spend all your time sitting here with us. I understand you must tend to business.’’

The three women were silent until Bradley’s footsteps could be heard crossing the downstairs foyer. Alice closed the bedroom door and sat down beside Jasmine’s bed. ‘‘It appears your father saw the seriousness of matters and is finally going to make an appearance.

I couldn’t be more pleased. His visit will be doubly blessed when he sees little Spencer.’’

Jasmine smiled and squeezed her grandmother’s vein-lined hand. ‘‘You don’t think Father will make mention that you’ve written and requested he visit?’’

‘‘No, I warned him Bradley must not know we’ve interfered.

And your father obviously has concerns of his own. I don’t think the plantation owners have been receiving prompt payments for their cotton.’’

Kiara moved closer to Jasmine’s bedside and pointed back and forth between the two women. ‘‘Ya wrote to Mr. Wainwright and told ’im to come here to question Mr. Houston?’’

Jasmine observed the disbelief—or was it fear?—in Kiara’s eyes.

‘‘Don’t worry. Having Father visit will be a good thing. Bradley has been terribly overworked throughout our marriage, and the stress appears to be taking its toll on him. Grandmother and I thought Father might be able to advise Bradley on how to relieve himself of some of his duties.’’

‘‘I do na think yar husband will be pleased if he should find out ya’ve interfered. He’s a proud man.’’

‘‘Don’t look so worried, Kiara. Father will be discreet in handling Bradley.’’

‘‘I hope so, ma’am. I do na want to see anyone suffer should Mr. Houston lose his temper.’’

Alice gave Kiara an endearing smile. ‘‘You worry overly, my dear. I think what you need is some time to relax and enjoy yourself. You’ve been in this room around the clock for weeks. Why don’t you go and visit your friend Bregetta and—’’ ‘‘Bridgett,’’ Jasmine corrected.

‘‘Oh yes. Why don’t you visit your friend Bridgett, and I’ll look after Jasmine?’’

Kiara checked the time. ‘‘She gets off work a little earlier on Saturdays.’’ There was a hesitation in her voice.

‘‘She should be home soon. If you leave now, the two of you could arrive at the Acre around the same time. Do go and have a time of relaxation,’’ Jasmine encouraged. ‘‘You’ve been with me constantly, and you need to get outside. A change of scenery will do you good.’’

‘‘I do na think Mr. Houston will be pleased should he find out I’ve gone.’’

‘‘No need for us to tell him. If he comes to the room, I’ll tell him I’ve sent you on an errand.’’ Alice pulled several coins from her reticule. ‘‘Please stop by Paxton’s and pick up some additional thread. I don’t want you to have any excuse to quit making your lace.’’

Kiara smiled and took the coins. ‘‘Ya’re also not wantin’ to tell a lie.’’

Alice returned the smile. ‘‘That’s true. Now off with you and have a good time.’’

Kiara peeked over the railing before tiptoeing down the stairs and could see the illumination of light beneath Bradley’s library door. She flattened herself against the wall and edged down the side of the hallway where the floorboards didn’t creak. Without a sound, she made her way into the kitchen.

Before Sarah could offer a greeting, Kiara placed a finger to her lips and shook her head. She made her way to the table and whispered, ‘‘I do na want Mr. Houston to know I’m leavin’. Mrs.

Houston and Mrs. Wainwright gave me permission to go into town, but ’tis better if he does na know.’’

Sarah smiled. ‘‘Have a nice time,’’ she whispered back. ‘‘What should I tell Paddy if he comes looking for you?’’

‘‘Tell him I’ll come to the barn later but to say nothin’ to Mr. Houston.’’

Kiara slipped out the door and was thankful for the cover of darkness. She half walked, half ran into town, deciding to stop at Paxton’s before going to the Acre. The final bell hadn’t rung and Bridgett wouldn’t yet be home. Besides, stopping now would save time on her return. She hastened down the aisle, picked up a bobbin, and walked to the counter at the front of the store.

‘‘I hear tell the Houstons have a fine baby boy.’’

‘‘Aye, that they do,’’ Kiara replied. ‘‘Both mother and babe doin’ fine.’’ The clanging of the final bell could be heard, announcing the day’s end for the mill workers.

Mrs. Paxton greeted two customers as they entered the store, taking time to tell them of the store’s latest arrival of bonnets and gloves. Kiara wished she would hurry, for Bridgett would be home any minute.

The customers stopped at a nearby display case, gazing down at an assortment of hatpins and jewelry. ‘‘I’m surprised Bradley Houston isn’t at home this evening. I thought he’d be spending time with Jasmine and the baby when he finally arrived home.’’

Kiara listened while keeping her eyes forward. ‘‘Mrs. Hartzfeld mentioned he was out of town when the baby was born, but men have their business matters that require attention. You can’t fault him for being dedicated to his work.’’

‘‘I suppose not, but it’s not as though he doesn’t have servants who could take care of his errands.’’

‘‘Oh, look at that locket. I believe I may have to purchase it.

Mrs. Paxton, could you show me this locket when you finish there?’’

‘‘Of course,’’ the store owner replied. She handed Kiara her change and the bobbin of thread.

Kiara clutched the bobbin in her hand, now afraid to leave the store. If what those women said was correct, Bradley Houston was somewhere nearby. What if he saw her?

‘‘Was there something else you needed, Kiara?’’ Mrs. Paxton inquired.

‘‘What? Oh no. I’m just leavin’. Thank ya.’’ She had no choice but to depart.

Her hand trembled as she opened the door. She longed to silence the jingling bell, which announced to all nearby that someone was either entering or exiting the business. She prayed Bradley was nowhere in the vicinity, for surely the light from the store would illuminate her as she left the building. She looked down the street and saw only a small boy running with his dog and a number of carriages. Kiara bent her head, pulling her shawl around her face.

Nearing the Acre, she sighed in relief. She’d heard no footsteps and seen no carriage following her. Apparently she’d been overworking her imagination. Bradley had likely returned home. ‘‘I will na allow him to ruin my time in the Acre,’’ she murmured before knocking on the door of Granna Murphy’s hovel.

‘‘Kiara! Come in. What a lovely surprise it is ta see ya.’’ Bridgett’s eyes sparkled as she pulled Kiara inside. ‘‘How did ya manage to get away from the house?’’

By the time she’d explained the latest events of the Houston household, Granna Murphy was standing beside her with a wooden spoon in her hand. ‘‘I’m expectin’ ya to stay for supper, lass, and I’ll na be takin’ kindly to the thought of ya walkin’ out the door without first sittin’ down to the table with us.’’

Kiara hesitated. ‘‘I do na . . .’’

Before she could complete her refusal, Rogan burst through the door like the sunshine on a dreary day. ‘‘Good evenin’ to ya,’’ he said, his gaze circling the room and then resting upon Kiara’s face. ‘‘What’ve we here? A lovely visitor from the other side o’ town? Pleased we are to be havin’ such a fine lady in our midst.’’

He bowed from the waist and swept his cap in front of him in a grand gesture. ‘‘I see ya’re joinin’ us for supper,’’ he said, pointing toward the extra plate Granna Murphy had just placed on the table.

Kiara gave him an embarrassed grin. ‘‘Aye. I thought ’twould be good for me to have the taste of cabbage and potatoes on me lips again.’’

He gave her a hearty laugh. ‘‘Sure and we’d be pleased to oblige ya. I’m thinkin’ ya must get mighty tired of that fancy food they serve in that fine house where ya’re livin’.’’ They all sat down to partake of the meager fare. Rogan issued a quick prayer of thanks and then turned his attention back to Kiara. ‘‘And what’s this I hear but that it’s Kiara O’Neill we have to be thankin’ for discoverin’ what was makin’ the mill workers sick?’’

Bridgett nodded in agreement. ‘‘Dr. Hartzfeld’s been tellin’ everyone ’twas you who figured out the elixir was makin’ the girls sick. Folks here in the Acre are callin’ ya a hero.’’

‘‘I’m no hero, but glad I am that folks will no longer be takin’ that mixture and makin’ themselves sick.’’

Although Kiara attempted to help clear the table and wash dishes, Granna pushed her off to the other room to visit with Bridgett and Rogan. Bridgett excused herself to go and retrieve her mending, and Kiara turned her attention to Rogan. ‘‘So what of yar family, Rogan? Are any of them living in this country?’’

‘‘My family’s all gone to be with the Lord. I’m the only Sheehan to survive the famine. I worked hard, hopin’ to supply them with fare for their passage, but ’twas too little, too late. Starvation took them afore I could earn enough money to help. When they went home to be with the Lord, I vowed that so long as there was breath in me body and trust in God, no one I loved would ever go hungry again. I’m thankful God gave me the chance to help Bridgett with her passage, fer it took some of the pain away being able to help her get here.’’

‘‘So ya
still
trust in God?’’ Kiara meekly questioned.

‘‘Aye. O’
course
I do. We can na be turnin’ our back on God just because an ill wind blows our way.’’

‘‘But when bad things keep happenin’, how do ya trust? God hasn’t done much for me and Paddy. Miss Jasmine explained all about Job, and we read the Bible each day. Knowing that a godly man such as Job suffered in his lifetime has helped some, but I’m still wonderin’ why things happen the way they do. Ya know . . . why do some of the cruelest people seem to be blessed while good folks are abused? Seems as though God has turned away from those that love ’im.’’

‘‘Ah, lass, ya can na be thinkin’ that way. Just because bad things happen, it does na mean that the Almighty has quit carin’.

It’s not Him that’s caused the grief in this world, but man with his devilish nature. Besides, lass, God has seen fit to give you a great house to live in and food on the table. Ya may be indentured, but ya’re not livin’ in squalor like most of us here in the Acre. Ya should be on yar knees thankin’ God for the safety and security ya have in that big house, while the rest of us face trouble at every turn in this place where we’re livin’.’’

‘‘Safety and security?’’ she blurted out. ‘‘Is that what ya think?

I’m hardly safe and secure. What I live is a life of torture and misery. Ya do na have any idea what I’m forced to endure.’’

His eyes widened at her reply, and she immediately put her hand to her mouth, realizing she’d said too much. Jumping up from the chair, she ran from the house.

‘‘Kiara!’’ Rogan called.

She could hear his footsteps behind her and then felt his fingers circle her arm. He pulled her to a halt. ‘‘Tell me what ya meant back there. Is someone hurtin’ ya?’’

She looked up into his eyes and realized it would matter little if she told him the truth. She was already defiled. No decent man would ever want her now. It would be easier to tell Rogan the truth than continue living a lie. And so there on the muddy street, feeling as filthy as the trash on the ground around them, she told him of Bradley’s visits to her attic room. Never once through the telling did she meet his gaze. When finished with her wretched tale, she turned and walked away, ready to retreat to the home she’d grown to detest.

‘‘Wait, lass,’’ Rogan said, once again at her side. ‘‘Do na run off from me. Ya need ta know I understand ya have been forced into a terrible situation. It was harsh of me to assume ya had an easier life than the rest of us. I beg ya to fergive me.’’

His gentle words of kindness were her undoing. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and he gathered her into his arms. ‘‘Do na cry, lass. Life is too short for all these tears. Ya can be certain that what ya have told me has na changed my feelings fer ya, lass.’’

Kiara leaned against his broad chest. Even if only for a brief moment, she wanted to feel loved and cherished. She leaned back and looked up into his eyes. ‘‘I was wonderin’ if ya could explain what feelin’s ya been havin’ fer me.’’

Rogan gave her a wink and smiled. ‘‘I think ya’re knowin’ exactly what feelin’s I’m talkin’ about, lass. Come along now. I’ll walk ya back to yar house.’’

The comments she’d overheard in Paxton’s Mercantile fleetingly crossed her mind. Surely Bradley would have long since returned home. ‘‘I’d be pleased to have yar company,’’ she replied.

C
HAPTER
•
27

J
ASMINE WAS
delighted when the doctor pronounced her recovery, at least among the genteel women of Lowell, to be one of the swiftest in his career. She’d been anxious to be up and about, and Dr. Hartzfeld had not discouraged her. Of course, he was one of the few doctors supporting short confinements for women after the birthing process, but he had begun advocating such practice after seeing how well the women in the Acre, as well as the Yankee farmwives, seemed to thrive when required to immediately return to the duties of caring for their families after childbirth. Of course, those women had no choice.

‘‘I can’t believe you’re out of bed,’’ her father exclaimed upon his arrival. ‘‘And here I thought I’d already be in Lowell when you gave birth. However, I’m delighted the rigors of childbirth are behind you. You look radiant. Motherhood becomes you, my dear. And your mother will be delighted to hear she has a grandson.’’

‘‘Do sit down with me in the parlor. I want to hear all about Mother and, of course, my brothers—and Mammy. I’ve asked Bradley if we can journey to The Willows when Spencer is a little older. I do want Mother to see her new grandson.’’ She looked lovingly at the baby in her arms. ‘‘Tell me, how is she faring,