Daughter of the Loom (Bells of Lowell Book #1) (8 page)

“All the same, we’ll see if we can’t rush things along. Right, my boy?”

There was no doubt that Farnsworth’s figurative use of
we
was directed at Matthew. “Yes, sir, I’ll do my level best.”

“And call me John. ‘Mr. Farnsworth’ is a bit formal for the two of us, wouldn’t you agree?”

“If that’s your preference, Mister, uh, John,” he quickly corrected.

Farnsworth grinned and nodded his head. “That’s my preference. I’ve been thinking it might serve us well if I deposited my trunks at the boardinghouse, and then you and I could take a short tour of the area. You could point out land that might be suitable for my house.”

Boott hadn’t discussed the possibility of such a tour with either of the men. And, Matthew concluded, Farnsworth hadn’t mentioned his idea of a tour with Boott before departing, either. He didn’t want to overstep his boundaries with Boott, yet he didn’t want to appear unwilling to assist Farnsworth. After all, Boott would be unhappy if Farnsworth conveyed any displeasure with his welcome to Lowell.

“It appears I’ve caused you a bit of a quandary,” Farnsworth said as they arrived at Mintie Beecher’s boardinghouse. “The tour can wait until you’ve had an opportunity to seek Mr. Boott’s approval.”

“I’ll . . .”

Farnsworth held up his hand. “No need to apologize, my boy. Your first loyalty must be to Mr. Boott and his instructions. I understand. Now, let’s see what the Beecher boardinghouse has to offer.”

Each of the men lifted a trunk out of the carriage and placed them near the front step. Matthew rapped on the door and waited. Moments later he was greeted by Mintie Beecher. To say it was a warm welcome would have been untruthful, for the woman’s welcome was meager and aloof. She stared in unabashed curiosity for several moments.

“Miss Mintie Beecher,” Matthew introduced, unable to deal with the silence, “this is Mr. John Farnsworth.”

“Well, at least you’re prompt,” she said, frowning. Her pinched expression led Matthew to believe she was less than pleased with this change to her orderly home.

“Well, bring your things,” she said as she turned and headed for the stairs.

Matthew noted that she didn’t even wait to see if they were following. He hurriedly lifted the trunk at his feet and threw an apologetic glance toward Farnsworth. “Guess we’d better get to it.”

Farnsworth chuckled and hoisted the other trunk to his back. “It’s clear she’s the no-nonsense sort.”

“To say the least,” Matthew murmured, fighting to balance his load and clear the door.

Miss Beecher led the way to the upstairs bedrooms, pointed out Mr. Farnsworth’s bed, chest, and allotted floor space for his trunks, then retreated back down the steps. The men placed the trunks along the wall and quickly followed behind. It seemed the expected thing to do.

“This is the parlor,” Mintie announced. “You can have guests until ten o’clock in the evening, but no women on the second floor. Dining room,” she said as she continued marching them through the house. “Dining chairs are not assigned. Pick whichever one is available. I expect my boarders to use proper manners, and I’ll not tolerate any profanity in my house. No spitting on the floor. No boisterous talk or crude stories. No singing, unless of course we’re having a musical night, and then you’re allowed to sing in the parlor but nowhere else.” She gave Farnsworth a stern, almost reprimanding look, as though the man had already sinned against the rules.

Matthew would have laughed out loud at the sight of this tiny but very determined old woman laying down the rules and regulations to a man twice her size, but he knew it would only serve to aggravate the situation.

Miss Beecher continued, “The house supplies clean sheets. If you want any other laundry done, you’ll have to pay extra like the rest of my boarders. I’ll expect you to take a bath at least once a week. I won’t have smelly men stinking up my house.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Farnsworth replied. “Seems quite reasonable.”

The older woman paused and assessed him momentarily. Again she eyed him, as if trying to ascertain some deep, mysterious truth. “The other house rules are posted by the door.” She pointed a bony finger toward the front of the house, then proceeded to push up the wire-rim spectacles that now rested on the tip of her beaklike nose.

“If I didn’t know better, Miss Mintie, I’d swear that you just got off the ship from England, too,” Farnsworth said as he tried out one of the wooden dining room chairs before moving to another.

Mintie’s eyes opened wide at the remark. “My name is Miss Beecher, and that’s the most preposterous thing I’ve ever heard,” she sputtered. “I’ve never set foot on the soil of England and shall never do so!”

“Really? You have that same disquieting aloofness so many of my countrymen hold dear. I thought you surely must have deep roots in the homeland.”

Matthew watched as Mintie’s cheeks flushed bright pink. He thought for a moment she might actually have a spell of apoplexy. She hesitated only a moment, however, before regaining her composure.

“In that case you should feel right at home, Mr. Farnsworth. I’ll make every attempt to maintain my temperament so that you may continue to feel as though you’re still in the bosom of your motherland,” she replied, her features strained into a tight frown.

Farnsworth’s face crinkled into a bright smile as he pulled a pipe from the pocket of his wool jacket. “Of that I have no doubt, Miss Mintie . . . excuse me, Miss Beecher.”

Chapter 5

Mintie Beecher pulled back the heavy drapes that covered the dining room windows. There was just enough time to finish dusting the remainder of the downstairs rooms before preparing the noonday meal. Adjusting her spectacles, she peered across the street and smiled in satisfaction. Her sister hadn’t pulled back the drapes in number 5. Mintie prided herself on being an efficient woman. It had served her well as her father’s hostess in their Boston home, and although assuming the position of a boardinghouse keeper in Lowell wasn’t to her liking, efficiency had continued to serve her well in this new post.

On the other hand, she seriously doubted whether Adelaide would ever develop any of the necessary skills to operate a smoothly run boardinghouse. Having carefully dusted the windowsills, Mintie began to move away from her vantage point. A blond-haired girl, bonnet askew and satchels in hand, was moving toward Adelaide’s front door.
Another one!
How many chances would her sister receive? It was one thing when boardinghouse vacancies occurred due to circumstances beyond the control of the keepers. It was quite another when the tenants departed due to the ineptness of a keeper. And depart from Adelaide’s house they had, like mice fleeing a fire.

Mintie had warned her sister of the consequences of her lackadaisical attitude. Of course, Adelaide continually insisted she was doing her very best, but Mintie knew better. Adelaide had never attended to the important duties of running the Judge’s household, always running off to a piano lesson or dress fitting. The work had always fallen to Mintie. The Beecher sisters had been the Martha and Mary of Lexington Street, at least from Mintie’s martyred perspective.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t time for her to both personally investigate the new boarder at Adelaide’s house and have the noonday meal on the table as planned. Curiosity was one vice that Mintie had failed to overcome—that, along with giving unsolicited advice. Still, she thought, someone of wisdom and etiquette should be available to advise those who were less knowledgeable. Helping one’s neighbor could hardly be seen as a vice.

Putting the matter behind her, Mintie called out, “Lucy, come here this minute.”

The child came running on spindle-thin legs, jerking herself to an abrupt halt directly in front of Mintie’s freshly starched white apron.

“How many times have I told you not to run in the house?” Mintie nodded with satisfaction when the child visibly shrunk back at her words. “It’s beyond me how you manage to work as a doffer in the mill. It’s a wonder you haven’t been mangled by one of those machines. You absolutely
never
follow instructions.”

“I’m supposed to run at the mill, Miss Mintie—the faster, the better. Then, when I come to help you serve meals, I have to remember to slow down. Sometimes I have trouble remembering.”

“Well, that much is obvious. I want you to go across the street to my sister’s boardinghouse. Tell Miss Beecher I need to borrow some darning thread.”

“I saw some in your sewing basket just yesterday. I’ll run and get it.”

“Lucy, I said
I need to borrow some darning thread
. I don’t give two whits what you saw yesterday. While you’re there, you may discreetly inquire as to any new boarders. Now get yourself across the street!”

The child snapped out of her wide-eyed stare, turned on her heel, and rushed toward the door. The corners of Mintie’s mouth turned up ever so slightly.
I’ll get that girl trained if it’s the last thing I do!

The potatoes had been peeled and set to boil when the front door slammed, quickly followed by Lucy rushing into the kitchen. Leaning forward to catch her breath, the child extended her hand upward. A piece of limp thread dangled in midair.

An exasperated
hurrumph
escaped Mintie’s lips. “She sent you back with that little piece of thread?”

Lucy nodded and extended her hand just a bit higher. “Miss Beecher said to tell you that she didn’t bother to send more than a snippet because she knew you didn’t really need the thread,” Lucy panted.

Mintie could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. “What did you say, young lady? You told her I had thread in my basket, didn’t you?”

“No, ma’am. Miss Beecher said you pride yourself on keeping stocked. She said she’s never known you to run out of anything and that you just send me over there when you’re snooping for information. She said to tell you that you’re invited for a cup of tea this afternoon if you’d like to meet one of her new boarders.”

“Boarders? How many new girls has the Corporation sent her?”

The child shrugged her shoulders. “Two or three, I think,” she replied.

Mintie dismissed the child with a wave of her arm and turned back to her dinner preparations. How dare her sister pass such acerbic words through a mere serving girl? It was no wonder the Judge hadn’t trusted Adelaide with the supervision of servants. Well, she would go to tea this afternoon—of that there was no doubt.

An hour later, the scraping of chairs and sound of footsteps announced that the men had finished their noon meal and were heading back to the mills. The older woman nodded at Lucy, and the two of them entered the dining room and began removing the dishes. Mintie glanced up from the table as John Farnsworth paused and turned her way.

“I was wondering if you might help me with a matter, Miss Mintie. I’ve been so busy since my arrival from England that I’ve not had time to go into town and visit the stationery shop. I promised to write my aging father back in the homeland, and I hoped that you might be willing to make such a purchase for me. I placed the money on my bureau. I would be most willing to reimburse you for your time and inconvenience.”

Mintie frowned, drawing her brows together as she was known to do. She felt the tightness in her face and hoped her look relayed her displeasure. He’d called her by her first name, but instead of reprimanding him, she decided to let it pass. “I suppose I could put it on my list, but I won’t be going shopping until tomorrow.”

Mr. Farnsworth took a step backward and nodded. “Quite all right. I won’t have sufficient time to write a proper letter until Sunday afternoon.”

Lucy’s eyes danced with anticipation as the door closed behind Mr. Farnsworth. “I’ll go into town for you, Miss Beecher.”

“I’ll just bet you’d like to do that. I’m paying you to serve meals and clean up afterward, not go prattling off to town wasting valuable time on that Englishman. You best move along or it will be time for you to get back to the mill before you’ve finished your work here. You can be certain I’ll not pay you for a shoddy performance of your duties. I’m going upstairs, but I’ll be back down to check on your progress.”

Mintie watched the child hasten into action and then hurried up the steps to the room occupied by John Farnsworth and five other men. Hesitating momentarily, she glanced up and down the hallway before silently chastising herself. Whom was she expecting to see lurking in the corners? There was nobody in the house except Lucy. Besides, Mr. Farnsworth himself had told her the money was on his bureau. She turned the knob and pushed open the door.

Entering the upstairs rooms on a Wednesday, she felt oddly out of place. Monday mornings and Thursday afternoons were the times she normally entered the rooms occupied by the men. Mondays for stripping the beds and gathering other laundry, Thursdays for dusting and scrubbing floors. Unlike the girls who worked in the mills, these men were more than willing to pay for cleaning chores that weren’t included in their monthly rate for room and board—which was precisely why Mintie had taken the position as keeper of the men’s boardinghouse. Across the street, Adelaide had enough difficulty maintaining some semblance of order with the few girls she had. How could she ever possibly manage a house that was completely full, plus the extra chores for the men?

Observing the coins, Mintie hesitated only a moment before sweeping them into her palm. Making a quick survey of the room, her gaze fell upon a tattered envelope lying atop Mr. Farnsworth’s trunk. Instinctively, she reached for the missive but stopped herself. Instead, she leaned forward until her nose nearly touched the aging paper as she carefully read the name and address inscribed on the letter.

“Miss Beecher, are you still up there?”

Startled, Mintie jumped back, rushed out of the room, and hastened down the stairway. “What do you want?”

Lucy’s upturned lips and sparkling eyes were quickly replaced with confusion. “Did I do something wrong, Miss Beecher? You said I’m to tell you when I complete my chores and to never leave without first telling you.”

Mintie felt heat rising in her cheeks. “You did nothing wrong. Are you leaving now?” That was as much of an apology as Mintie would make to a servant.