Spindle(18)

“A Prince is leaving the valley?” Mim said. “I predict a flurry of new rumors about the reclusive family. And that’s a way to end the evening on a high note. Good night, all,” Mim said. She clicked the valve to turn off the gas lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

Briar settled into her portion of the bed she shared with Ethel, and lay on her side.

After Mim had fallen asleep, Briar whispered, “Ethel? You awake?”

“Yes.”

“I think Nanny has started making arrangements for the children.”

“Why do you say that?”

“She knows my plans have changed and her deadline is coming up. She wasn’t at the cottage this weekend. She sent a friend in her place while she takes care of some unnamed business that could go on for weeks.”

“She could be doing something personal she can’t share with you. Don’t go jumping to conclusions just because it’s foremost on your mind.”

“I know, but that’s not what my gut is telling me. I have to prepare for the worst.”

“I’m sorry. And I’m sorry about Henry leaving,” Ethel whispered before rolling over. “Are there more frames open on your floor? Could you take on another?”

Briar ran the figures in her mind. She was responsible for four frames. Eight sides with 136 spindles on each side meant 1,088 spindles in all, ten hours a day, six days a week. If number four would work properly, she could handle one more, two if everything ran perfectly, which it never did.

“Maybe. It would make for a busy day, but I’m there anyway.”

Tomorrow she’d ask the overseer. Tonight she would fret over Henry.





Chapter Nine



And fret she did. All night long she imagined every possible tragedy that could befall Henry while he traveled for the first time, and so far away from home. Too soon the morning mill bells were clanging, signaling wake-up time. She thumped out of bed with the rest of her room-mates and dressed. Years of the same routine made it automatic.

While waiting for Ania to wash at the water basin, she stretched and yawned, trying to wake up. Mim was busy pinning her hair, peering at Godey’s to mimic a new style. Ethel was already done and buttoning up her boots, her hair pinned tightly back, more concerned with safety than vanity.

Ania finished, and then nodded at her room-mates before scooting out the door. Briar quickly washed up, then gathered her items for laundry to add to the pile for Miss Olive. Meanwhile Ethel straightened out Briar’s quilt while waiting for Mim to finish dressing. They all left together, Ethel leading the charge, and shooting glares at Mim for taking so long.

In all, a regular morning.

As if automated themselves, the boardinghouse doors all the way down the street opened to the dawning day as the operatives set off in a rush to the mill yard to make it through the gates before any stragglers were locked out. If seen above, it would look like a mass of ants streaming from their hills and marching out in formation.

“You two going to join me at the meeting later this week?” asked Ethel. “Mrs. Sarah Tuttle is coming all the way from Boston to talk to us.”

“Oh, please,” said Mim, scoffing. “No more of that vote-talk. I’ve got better things to do with my time.”

Briar saw Ethel take a deep breath and knew she was going to start in on it. Mim knew just what to say to make Ethel mad. Miss Olive didn’t know what she was doing pairing up these two in a room. Briar was always caught in the middle. No wonder Ania spent as little time with them as she did.

“I might,” Briar said to defuse the fight before it started. A suffrage meeting sounded like a waste of time, but Ethel could be persuasive about her causes. And until Briar’s nights were filled with sewing, she may as well hear about votes for women, however unlikely they seemed.

Ethel breathed out, then shot a triumphant look to Mim. “Excellent. Maybe you can talk some sense into that one.”

“Hmm,” Briar answered. Out of habit, she turned her attention to looking for Wheeler. They were passing his boardinghouse and she could usually spot him, since he was so tall.

“He’s up ahead already,” said Mim. She pointed, wiggling her gloved finger. Even going to work in the summer, Mim dressed as fine as she could.

“Oh, I’m not—”

“Please. I know you still look for him.”

There was no use protesting to Mim, so instead she searched the crowd ahead. Wheeler used to wait for her and they would walk close together, bumping arms as everyone else hurried past. He must have already gone in.

They were at the mill gates now, not far from the outdoor wooden staircase they took to their respective floors. They were all pressed in, constricted by the hundreds of other workers all trying to get to their places on time.

They ascended the stairs together until the third floor where they parted. Briar waved good-bye and opened the door straight into the spinning room. Ethel and Mim would continue up another flight to the weaving room.

She stopped by the overseer’s office and knocked on the door.

He waved her in, but returned his attention to the large account book in front of him.

“Excuse, me, sir. I’d like another frame, soon as one opens up,” Briar said.

“Got a girl leaving at the end of the month. But you’ll have to get all your frames up to peak production before then or it’ll go to someone else.” He looked at the time and stood.