Chapter 1
Briar walked the length of her spinning frames, keeping a close eye on the whirling threads. She’d been shut down more often than not today and tried to keep her mind off of her lost wages. It was Saturday, so they’d be ending early, giving her time to go home to the country and spend the night with her young siblings and their nanny.
All she did at the cotton mill, she did for those children.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw several threads break on frame number four. Her heart sank. “Drat.”
Quickly, she pulled the shipper handle on four and waited for the spinning to stop. With her other frames, she could easily fix a few threads that had turned thin while the machine was running, but not this frame. It had a mind of its own and would likely pinch her fingers if she tried.
She looked around for Henry. He worked in the machine shop and had a knack for fixing this persnickety frame. His boss allowed him to come up to the spinning room and doff for her, tweaking the frame each time to keep it running.
Most doffers were children, their small hands the right size for slipping through the frames and removing the full bobbins and putting on new ones. Henry, despite being seventeen, didn’t seem to mind helping her even though the other boys his age gave him a ribbing. He had been her first friend when she moved to town with her family, and a loyal one at that, so she was thankful for his help.
Briar set to work tying threads and straightening out bobbins.
“Can’t leave you alone for a minute,” called a voice close to her ear.
Henry. He had to yell above the roaring noise of a roomful of spinning frames. He reached out and pulled off a bobbin, then pointed. “This here is your problem. Something’s wrong with this spindle and it sets the others off.” He took out his tools and straightened the metal spindle.
Briar finished tying the last broken thread. “Can’t you replace it?” she yelled back.
Henry shook his head. “Already have. Every one I put in here goes crooked.” He grinned. “Besides, if I fix it for good, I won’t get to see you every day.”
Briar rolled her eyes, which only seemed to encourage him further.
With a wink, he pushed the bobbin cart ahead and began swapping out the full bobbins for empties. While he did that, Briar started up number four again, staying long enough to make sure all the threads caught and were spinning evenly before moving on to check her neglected frames.
When Henry finished doffing, he waved to catch her attention, signaling he was done. She lifted her chin and smiled her thanks. Then he tapped the edge of number four—the same spot every time—and was off.
The only person completely dependable in my life is Henry Prince.
Sure, Nanny was always available for the children, but that was only temporary. Stiff and unyielding as the spinning frames, Nanny had only agreed to help out for a year, ending at Briar’s seventeenth birthday. After that, if Briar hadn’t come up with a more permanent solution for the children, they’d be turned over to the orphan asylum in town that would put them on the orphan train sure as anything. No one would take three children all at once. They’d be split up and would never see one another again.
Until last week, Briar thought she’d found a permanent solution. But now, instead of planning for a summer wedding, she was scrambling for ways to earn more money to bring the children back into town with her. It was nigh impossible. No matter how hard she worked at the mill or how much extra piecework she took on, it would never be enough on her own. Wheeler—her former sweetheart—had spoiled everything when he changed his mind.
Finally, the overseer shut off the power to the frames and the day was over.
Briar raced out the door and down the outside stairs to the mill courtyard, getting jostled by the constant stream of operatives leaving the buildings.
There was her room-mate Mim coming down from the weaving room. Briar waved.
“Let’s go, then,” said Mim, straightening her new Sunday bonnet that she had saved up several weeks for.
Mim was a few years older than Briar, the fashion expert of their boardinghouse and the only blonde in the mix. She was a gem with a needle and had been teaching Briar how to smock little girls’ dresses, adding pleats with colorful patterns to the bodice and sleeves.
Briar had also worn her best hat to work. Not a new hat. It belonged to her mam, so it was dated but decent. She’d also risked wearing her best cotton dress, worried all day the hem would come away soaked in the grease that was liberally applied to the machines and often dripped onto the floors. They didn’t have time to go back to the boardinghouse and change, if Briar were to make it home to the children before dark.
It was important she look presentable for where Mim was taking her: across town to where the wives of the mill executives lived and had their babies.
“You sure you want to do this?” Mim asked.
“Do what?” said Henry. He sidled up between them, his hands in his pockets.
“I’m looking for piecework,” Briar said quietly.
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Don’t you think you work hard enough at the mill?”
“You know why I have to take on more.” It had been a long week and Briar was tired, more weary of soul than of body. She could push herself to work a little harder and, if nothing else, try to mask the hurt left in her heart.
“Let me—”
“No.” Briar stopped him. Henry was the kind of guy who would give you the shirt off his back. “I can’t. You can’t. Your family needs what you bring in.”
“Then let me walk with you.”
Mim stopped. “You’ll do no such thing.” She looked him up and down as if to emphasize her point. He was covered in grease, wearing an old, torn pair of work trousers, and his shirt opened one button too many, on account of a button falling off and not being replaced.
Mim did have a point. It would be hard enough to impress these ladies that she could do the job neatly and cleanly without Henry hanging around in the background.
“Then I’ll wait for you by the road to see you home. You are still going to the cottage tonight?” His forehead wrinkled in concern.
Briar nodded. She couldn’t stay in town without telling the children first. They looked forward to her weekend visits. “Thanks, but you don’t have to. Your mam will be worried.”
“No, she won’t. She’ll know I’m with you.” He turned and sauntered back toward the mill.
Mim snorted. “He doesn’t know his mother, does he?”
Briar frowned, thinking of what she’d shared with her room-mates.
Henry had invited her to his house one day, not long after the children had moved in with Nanny. He was showing off, having never brought her there before. Their entire property was fenced off with ominous KEEP OUT signs posted everywhere, making Briar nervous from the start, even though she had already met his parents.
She and Henry had fed the chickens, petted the goats, and he was about to invite her into the house when his mother stood arms akimbo in the doorway. Her usual smile was gone, replaced by stern, set lips.
“Henry, may I speak with you inside, please?” she’d asked in a way that let Briar know she wasn’t to follow. Trouble was, the window was open and Briar could hear everything.
“How could you bring her out here? What were you thinking?”
The white lace curtain in the window fluttered in the breeze. Briar stared at it, straining to hear more. As if of their own accord, her legs started forward, taking her closer. “I’m sorry, Mama.” His voice came out whisper-quiet.
“We don’t know what causes a girl to be drawn to the spindle. You need to be careful who you bring here. The farm is not a place for a girl, especially a girl like Briar. Take her home now.”
Henry had come out with a basket, the first of many that he would bring to the cottage filled with food from Mrs. Prince’s garden. His grin faltered when he saw her so close to the house, but then he smiled wide and led her out of the yard. He never explained anything.
Nor did he ever invite her back.
From then on, Briar not only avoided the farm, she avoided Mrs. Prince, who seemed to have something against girls “like her.” She couldn’t figure out if Mrs. Prince was against spinner girls in general or Irish spinner girls in particular.
Briar wanted to tell Mrs. Prince it wasn’t that she was drawn to the spindle, it was simply the only job she could get. Options were limited, which was why, with Mim’s help, she was hoping these housewives would take the time to judge her by her work.
Mim rang the doorbell of the first house, a new, two-story, brick structure surrounded by a manicured lawn and a dozen purplish-pink azalea bushes. Mrs. Chapman opened the front door. Dressed in a pretty green dress with a lace collar and puffed sleeves, she beamed at Mim. “Have you finished already?”
Mim handed Mrs. Chapman the wrapped package. “Yes, ma’am. And please meet my room-mate, Briar Jenny. I’ve been teaching her, and she is ready to start taking on her own clients. Do you have another dress that needs smocking, or do you know of another mother wanting fancywork done?” Mim pulled out a sampler showcasing Briar’s stitches.
Meanwhile, Briar stood silently under Mrs. Chapman’s penetrating gaze. She stiffened as the woman’s eyes roamed over Briar’s auburn hair, her freckles.
Making judgments.
This wasn’t going to work. Briar sensed it before Mim could.
There was no physical sign posted in the window, but Briar felt it in her being. She wasn’t welcome here. NINA.
No Irish Need Apply.
