Spindle(64)

Stunned, the operatives gathered around Grace.

“Thank you, but you shouldn’t have,” said Briar. “Now you’re out of work.”

Grace smiled. “Don’t worry about me. Today was my last day anyway; I was quitting and moving to New York. Now I can say I did it with style.” She twirled a little pirouette. “Stick together, ladies!” she said before following the overseer to pick up her final paycheck.

The spinning room was now cleaner than the day it had been built. The operatives were eager to return to the usual routine, and their spirits were high, convinced that they had gotten rid of whatever germs were lurking.

But they were wrong.

During the rest of the week, one by one, more girls in the spinning room started to complain of headaches. Then their faces turned flush. And then, finally, they collapsed in sickness and were carried home to their boardinghouses.

Grace was the first one to collapse that night at her going-away party.





Chapter Thirty-Four



The knot that had been forming in Briar’s stomach twisted tighter. How could the spindle be making the girls sick? They were all over seventeen and none had pricked a finger. It made no sense for these other girls if Briar was the targeted one, and she didn’t have so much as a runny nose.

The doctor was convinced it was polio, but Briar didn’t think so anymore. There were so many girls ill now that Miss Olive turned the whole first floor into an infirmary. The healthy ones sat around in the parlor, postulating about who would be next. The parlor game players had met during the beginning of the week, but as the number of sick girls climbed, the games weren’t as much fun, and they spent more time talking about illness and worries than laughing over who was cheating at Tiddledy Winks.

Friday morning, Briar found George and sent him into the country with a message for Mrs. Prince: We need help.

When Briar arrived at the boardinghouse for dinner, she found Fanny and Miss Olive conspiring in the parlor, Fanny looking guilty and Miss Olive frustrated.

“The children?”

Fanny stood, straw hat in hand. “They’re fine, dearie. With the Princes. The Mrs. sent me with the remedies.” She indicated the pile of baskets gathered on the floor of the parlor.

Miss Olive stood and took two baskets with her. “I’d better get started. Girls?” she called to the returning operatives. “Hurry up and eat.”

“Are you staying the night in town?” Briar asked Fanny.

“Oh no, I’ll stay long enough to help Miss Olive with the ministrations, but I’ll be back to the children by nightfall. Don’t want them to worry. Although, I’m sure they are having fun at the farm. I’m afraid they’ll try to talk the Princes out of more animals if I leave them too long.”

“How do you travel so quickly from place to place?” Briar asked.

“Oh, I have my ways.” Fanny winked.

Briar’s curiosity was piqued. How did a fairy travel? Via the wind, according to Briar’s mam.

“Now, you wouldn’t consider moving out to the cottage until this…this trial has passed, would you?” Fanny asked. “The children would love to have you home for longer than a speck, and you’ve only got two more working days until your birthday.”

“I’d get fired for breaking my contract if I didn’t show up for work.”

“Take special care, then. I haven’t been able to find Isodora, but she’s bound to be close and watching. She’ll be getting anxious that you haven’t pricked your finger yet. Especially after all she’s put into escaping my surveillance, finding the spindle, and then finding you. All too perfect for her to walk away from. You won’t expect her tricks, so be extra careful. If you feel weak about touching the spindle, feign illness and go home. In fact…” Fanny felt Briar’s forehead. “I think you’ve got a fever. Let’s get you home now.” She grabbed Briar’s arm and started to tug.

“Maribelle. I can’t leave her. Don’t worry. I’ll be careful, and in a few more days, I won’t need to be so timid around the spindle. I’ll be seventeen and can help you get it off the frame without fear of sudden death. Then you can take it back to wherever it came from.”

Later that afternoon, Maribelle was doffing as usual when a movement caught Briar’s eye. It was quick, but after years of intervening in the twins’ mischievousness, Briar could sense when a little one was about to be foolish. Briar turned her full attention to the girl. She was pushing her cart of bobbins down the aisle when, quick as anything, she pulled the bobbin off the wooden spindle and then reached out with her other hand to run a finger along the spindle.

“Maribelle, don’t!” Briar cried out, but she was too far away to be heard above the machines. Briar ran for the girl, but she wasn’t in time to stop her from licking the sticky sweetness off her finger. Shaking the startled girl, Briar yelled, “What did you do?” She pulled her kerchief from her pocket, dropping the blue silk onto the oily floor. “Spit,” she demanded, handing Maribelle the cotton handkerchief while Briar picked up the silk one.

Maribelle complied, keeping her head low. “Sorry, Briar. I know you didn’t want me near the spindle, but it was a dare. I had to do it.”

Briar bent down so she could look Maribelle straight in the eye. “What do you mean?” She used the blue silk kerchief to wipe the tears from Maribelle’s cheeks.