A Perfect Silhouette Read online

  Jane shook her head. “Olive and Charity decided to remain behind, and Ada said she doesn’t feel well. She has trouble breathing. Mrs. Richards said Ada needs to go home and breathe some fresh air for a few months so she doesn’t ruin her lungs. Ada’s been working in the mills since she was fourteen. She keeps getting worse, but she says her family can’t get along without her wages.”

  “That’s true for all of us, isn’t it?” Mellie arched her brows.

  “Not true for me.” Abigail shook her head with such vigor that her bonnet shifted. “Not true for quite a few of us. I came here to gain a bit of independence and have money I could spend or save as I pleased. None of my wages go back home.” She gestured to some of the others. “Same for you, isn’t it?”

  Several of them murmured agreement, but Phebe shook her head. “It’s not like that for me. Except for a tiny sum, I send all my wages home. My pa hasn’t been able to find work, and my little brother, Timothy, is sickly. They need every bit of my pay just to cover their necessities and the doctor’s bill or medicine when Timmy’s sick. The doctor won’t come any more unless Pa pays him first—says we already owe him too much money.”

  Cora offered Phebe a sympathetic smile and gave a nod. “Me and Clara send part of our money home so that our brother can go to college, but we keep the rest. We save some in the company bank and spend a little on ourselves, too.”

  “Cora spends more than me.” Clara pinned her sister with a defiant look. “And don’t you try to deny it, Cora.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with buying a pretty ribbon or piece of fabric from time to time, Clara.” Cora turned from her sister and nudged Mellie. “This is Elm Street. Most of the stores where we shop are along here. I like to go into the shops at the Merchants Exchange. At Bachelder’s they have hosiery and fancy goods of every sort. Putney’s Confectionery is there, too.” She licked her lips. “They have the most wonderful tea cakes, and you can get tea or coffee in the attached public house.”

  “And they sell horehound and coltsfoot candy. Both taste good and help with breathing problems and a scratchy throat.” Clara’s brows knit together. “Maybe we should pick up a stick of coltsfoot for Ada.”

  “How kind of you, Clara,” Mellie said. “I wish I could offer to pay, but I gave the last of my money to the drayman who delivered my trunks.”

  The street was lined with granite and brick buildings, each glass window displaying the latest wares. Jane signaled them to a halt in front of Charles Pittney’s Millinery. A sign in the window boasted sale prices on all their ribbons, laces, silks, velvets, satins, and embroideries, as well as the largest selection of fashionable bonnets to be had in all of New Hampshire.

  Jane nodded toward the doors of the millinery. “We have to go in here. I need some ribbon for the dress I’m going to wear to the Grand Complimentary Ball, and they always have the best selection.”

  Alice chuckled. “The ball isn’t until the middle of October, Jane. I don’t think you need over two months to sew a bit of lace on your dress.”

  “You can wait until a few days before the dance to alter your dress, Alice, but I prefer to have mine ready ahead of time.” Jane pointed to a sign in the window. “Besides, the sign says everything’s on sale.”

  Mellie turned her attention to a storefront across the street. Though the sign advertised ambrotypes, the window revealed several paintings. “I believe I’ll go over there and look at the artwork displayed in the window. There’s no need for me to go into Pittney’s. I can’t afford to purchase anything tonight.”

  Jane hiked a shoulder. “Suit yourself, but we’ll be a while. Come over and join us when you’re through.”

  Cora drew near to Mellie’s side. “I’ll go with you. Clara’s going to Putney’s to purchase some candy for Ada.”

  Cora and Mellie waited for a carriage to pass before crossing to the other side of the street. Once in front of the photography shop, the two of them stared at several pastoral scenes in expensive gilt frames. After a few moments, Cora turned to Mellie. “Do you paint pictures, Mellie?”

  “No. I can draw a little, and I’ve learned paper cutting, but I’ve never painted anything. Still, I admire those who can put brush to canvas and create beauty, don’t you?”

  “They’re very pretty.” Cora bobbed her head. “I’ve never been in this shop. I’d like to see what it would cost to have a likeness made of Clara and me to send home to our family.” She grasped Mellie’s hand. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

  A bell jingled as they pulled open the door. Paintings hung along one wall of the shop. In an alcove on the opposite side, two upholstered chairs flanked a circular table covered with a burgundy velvet cloth. A still-life picture was centered above the chairs. The niche was effectively fashioned to resemble a family parlor. A camera sat atop a high table opposite the setting.

  Mellie chuckled when Cora settled into one of the chairs, lifted her head, and folded her hands in her lap. “How do I look? Would this make a good pose?”

  They both startled when a balding gentleman rounded the corner. He pointed toward the unoccupied chair. “I would suggest we remove the extra chair before I take your picture.”

  As he strode forward, Cora jumped to her feet. “I was only pretending. I don’t think I could ever afford a picture, sir.”

  His blue eyes twinkled. “If you work in the mills, I’m sure you make enough money to purchase a small ambrotype.” He motioned them to a counter at the rear of the room. “Take a look at these smaller ones. A picture this size is only one dollar.”

  Cora studied the picture he handed to her, then returned it to the counter and picked up one of the larger offerings. “This is much nicer. I doubt my father would be able to make out Clara and me in one of the smaller pictures.” She touched a finger near her right eye. “Pa’s eyesight is poor.” She tapped the larger photograph. “How much is this size?”

  “That is one of our finest. It is ten dollars.”

  Cora gulped. “I wouldn’t want to spend that much on a picture. If I’m going to spend ten dollars, I think my folks would rather have something useful, but thank you for your time.” After tracing her finger along the edge of the framed picture, Cora turned away from the counter. Her eyes shone with longing when she looked at Mellie. “I’d like to send them a likeness of Clara and me—one my pa could see—but the price is too much for me.” Cora thanked the owner, and the two of them stepped outside. “Would you spend that much on a picture, Mellie?”

  Mellie shook her head. “My wages are needed for my family’s necessities. They don’t need a picture of me.”

  Cora tipped her head and peered at Mellie. “Do your folks expect you to send your wages home every payday?”

  The twosome crossed the street and stopped in front of Pittney’s. “My parents died when I was a young girl. My sister and I were placed under the guardianship of my uncle, who managed my parents’ estate. He sent me to boarding school and later to finishing school. My sister, who is eleven years older than me, married at a young age. When my uncle died, her husband took charge of the estate. Upon his recent death, we discovered he’d disposed of our inheritance. He left my sister and her children in dire financial straits, and I want to help them as much as I can.”

  She hadn’t anticipated relating the past would be difficult, but it had been. Like tearing the scab off an old wound, she felt an initial sting and then an oozing flow of anguish and grief. For the life she’d left behind, for her future in the mills, but mostly for her sister and the children. They were suffering the most.

  Cora turned to her. “You couldn’t find a position in Concord that would have been more to your liking and offered decent wages?” Her brows arched. “Surely with your education . . .”

  The unfinished question hung between them while Mellie decided how, or if, she should reply. Yet Cora wasn’t like the folks back home, those who were eager to spread every tittle and jot of gossip, no matter how painful. Cora’s questions came
from a place of curiosity rather than cruelty.

  “I was a tutor for a wealthy family in Concord—their family owned the bank. They paid me very well, and I was happy with the position. But when my brother-in-law died, he’d left behind enormous debt, and then it was discovered he’d embezzled money. We were considered outcasts.”

  Cora’s smooth features tightened into a frown. “So the banker terminated your position?”

  “No. At my request, he permitted my sister to take over the position. She’s able to tutor her own children while instructing the banker’s children. It works perfectly, and he was most kind. My sister wouldn’t have been able to find employment elsewhere. While I could have looked for a position as a tutor here in Manchester, I was told I would make much more by working in the mills. And families hiring a tutor closely investigate applicants. I’m sure I wouldn’t have wanted to answer some of their questions.”

  “I didn’t mean to pry, but I’m sure you understand that your fine belongings caused us to wonder.”

  “Of course, but I’d be thankful if you didn’t share everything I’ve told you with anyone other than Clara, and perhaps Phebe. She seems a kind girl. I’ll share with the others when I feel the time is appropriate.”

  “We wouldn’t breathe a word. You can trust Clara and me. We learned how to keep a secret long ago.” She grinned. “And you can trust Phebe, too. She’s dependable. A good sort—does her best to help support her family.”

  Mellie nodded and gestured toward the door. “Shall we go inside and see what the others have found?”

  While they made their way down the aisles, Mellie’s thoughts returned to the photography shop. Perhaps the owner would be interested in hiring her to help during the evenings. Maybe she could somehow use her paper-cutting abilities to increase his business. Then again, perhaps he’d consider her paper cutting as competition for his photography business. She’d need to give the matter more thought—and prayer.

  While a couple of the girls were looking at bonnets, several others were talking with a group of fellows who appeared more interested in the girls than in ribbons or lace. Cora glanced around, then nodded to Clara, who was admiring a display of lace. “I’ll fetch Clara and Phebe. We can go back to the house if you’d like. I know you’re tired.”

  “Thank you, but if you and the others want to stay, I believe I can find my way.”

  Cora shook her head and hurried off. “Just wait for a few moments.” A short time later, she returned with Clara and Phebe following on her heels. “Clara and Phebe want to go back, too.” Cora pointed to the door. “Shall we?”

  When Cora told the others they were leaving, no one appeared to care. Only one of them waved in their direction as they departed. On the walk home, Mellie wondered why the other girls had been so eager for her to come along. Once they’d found a few young men to visit with, nothing else mattered.

  Mrs. Richards greeted them upon their return. Her chair was turned toward the foyer, perhaps so she could keep account of each girl on her arrival home. During her first evening at the house, the twins had enlightened Mellie regarding the keepers and their ledgers. While she’d initially thought the ledgers were only to record the costs of the boardinghouse, Mellie soon learned the ledgers contained much more. Mrs. Richards maintained careful records about the habits of each boarder. She noted if they returned after the ten o’clock curfew, if they’d been keeping company with unsavory men, if they’d paid their full rent and board each payday, and if they were regularly attending church on Sunday. While those details were listed in the corporate rules signed by each girl, Mellie was surprised to learn the keepers chronicled all their shortcomings and then reported them to the company.

  Mrs. Richards placed her open book on the table beside her. “You’re home earlier than I expected. Did you enjoy seeing some of the town, Mellie?”

  “Yes, thank you. It’s very nice. The stores in Concord close much earlier. I was surprised to find so many establishments still open for business.”

  “They make much of their income from the mill workers. If they want their money, they need to remain open when the workers can shop—few close before nine-thirty.” Her gaze settled on the small package in Clara’s hand. “It appears you’re the only one who parted with any of her wages, Clara. Did you find some pretty bauble?”

  Clara frowned and shook her head. “No. I bought a stick of coltsfoot and two horehound lozenges for Ada. I thought they might help her throat.”

  “That was generous of you, Clara.” She extended her hand. “I’ll take them to her. While you were gone, I decided it was best to move her to the sickroom. She’s got a fever, and I don’t want the rest of you coming down with the same thing.”

  “I’d rather give it to her myself, but I don’t want to get sick.” Clara stepped forward and dropped the package into Mrs. Richards’s open hand. “Tell her it’s from me and Cora and that we’ll be praying for her.”

  After bidding the older woman good-night, the four of them climbed the stairs and walked to the end of the hall. Clara opened the door leading to the attic but then came to an abrupt halt and signaled them to be quiet.

  Cora drew close to her sister. “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s someone up there giggling and talking to Olive. I heard them say something about Mellie and then laugh.” Clara motioned Mellie forward. “Go up there real quiet-like. I think some of the girls are talking about you. Might as well give them a little surprise.”

  Holding tight to the railing, Mellie tiptoed up the steep stairway. With each step the voices became more distinct. Her breath caught as she heard Olive mention gambling debts and embezzlement. Was she? Could she? Surely not! With a burst of energy she didn’t know she had left in her, Mellie ran up the final steps. Her mouth dropped open at the sight. Olive sat on the edge of her bed with Charity sitting beside her, the two of them poring over her journal.

  Crossing the distance in three long strides, Mellie yanked her journal from Charity’s hands. “How dare you go through my belongings and read my personal writings!”

  Olive’s dark eyes glimmered in the candlelight. “I can understand why you wouldn’t want anyone reading what you’ve written in there. Looks like you’ve had quite a downfall from the days when you wore all those fancy dresses. I’d wager those society folks don’t want anything to do with you anymore.”

  “Wager! You’re so funny, Olive. I don’t think Mellie wants to think about her brother-in-law and all the money he lost at the gaming tables.” Charity poked Olive with her elbow. “It’s wagering and stealing that caused all Mellie’s problems and brought her to Manchester. Isn’t that right, Mellie?”

  Phebe circled around the twins and glowered at Charity. “I believe your parents chose the wrong name for you, Charity. There’s nothing charitable about your behavior. I wonder what Mrs. Richards would think if I told her what the two of you have been up to while we were gone.”

  Charity’s quick temper was a match for her fluff of red hair. She jumped up from the bed and pointed her finger at all of them. “You just try it and we’ll see what everyone in town thinks about your friend Mellie when we tell them about her fall from grace back in Concord.” She sneered. “If you knew what was in here, you’d choose your friends more carefully, Phebe.”

  Phebe remained toe-to-toe with the redhead. “I know I wouldn’t want as a friend anyone who would sneak around and go through my personal belongings.”

  Mellie touched Phebe’s shoulder. “Thank you, Phebe, but you don’t need to come to my defense.”

  Olive’s lips curled in a scowl. “That’s right, Phebe. Stay out of this. Mellie knows what she has to lose if I tell others she’s not who they think she is.”

  The angry girl’s words slipped over Mellie like a rope tightening around her neck. Mellie clasped the journal to her chest. “I did nothing wrong. The debts weren’t mine, and I didn’t steal anything.”

  Charity hiked a shoulder. “Maybe not, but from the s
ound of that journal, folks in Concord were mighty angry when he took his own life and left them without any hope of recovering what was owed them.”

  Olive leaned forward. “And it looks like he owed most of the town. But if you don’t mind us telling others about your past, that’s fine. You and Phebe and the twins can go right ahead and talk to Mrs. Richards.” Vengeance glistened in her eyes. “I forgot to mention that I’m close friends with one of the fellows who works for the local newspaper. I’m sure he’d be pleased to write a column about you and your family.”

  The slipknot drew tighter. “Nothing will be said to Mrs. Richards, and I don’t want anything in the newspaper. Are we agreed?” Despite her attempt to sound forceful, Mellie’s voice quivered.

  Olive barked a laugh. “Not quite. Here are my terms. You don’t speak to Mrs. Richards, we won’t tell the other girls or my friend at the newspaper, and you’ll loan us any of those dresses whenever we want.”

  Mellie gripped the journal tighter. How could she have been so foolish? Hadn’t she learned to keep her personal belongings under lock and key all those years ago in boarding school? Though she doubted either of the girls would keep their word, she had no choice. If her character was called into question, she’d lose her job.

  Olive pushed up from the side of the bed, her mouth twisted in an ugly smirk. “If you tell me yes, then we’re agreed.”

  “We’re agreed.”

  Chapter

  six

  MORGAN HAD RELENTED TO HIS MOTHER’S REQUEST THAT he remain home for a few days before beginning his “masquerade” at the mills—the word she had used when referring to his decision. In exchange, she promised to keep his secret.

  Both he and his father had nearly finished their breakfast when his mother appeared at the dining room table. “Are you sure you can’t stay with us another day or two, Morgan?”

  “William, Mother. I’m referring to myself as William Morgan from now on.”