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166 pages

English

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Description

In 1850, Mellicent "Mellie" Blanchard takes a job at a mill in Manchester, New Hampshire, to help support her family. In search of additional earning opportunities, she approaches a daguerreotype shop owner with the proposal that he hire her to make paper cuttings or silhouette portraits for those who can't afford an expensive daguerreotype.When a particularly charming customer--whose broad smile and twinkling eyes catch her off guard--asks to escort her home, the seeds of romance begin to blossom. All the pieces of her new life seem to have fallen perfectly into place, but when her new venture brings her an unexpected opportunity, she is confronted with the truth that all is not as it seems. Will Mellie, who is keeping secrets of her own, find happiness in the new life she has carved out for herself in the busy mill town?

Sujets

Historical romance

Christianity

Informations

Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	06 août 2019
Nombre de lectures	1
EAN13	9781493418633
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0461€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Cover
Half Title Page
Books by Judith Miller
The Carousel Painter
The Chapel Car Bride
The Lady of Tarpon Springs
A Perfect Silhouette
F REEDOM ’ S P ATH
First Dawn
Morning Sky
Daylight Comes
B ELLS OF L OWELL *
Daughter of the Loom
A Fragile Design
These Tangled Threads
L IGHTS OF L OWELL *
A Tapestry of Hope
A Love Woven True
The Pattern of Her Heart
P OSTCARDS FROM P ULLMAN
In the Company of Secrets
Whispers Along the Rails
An Uncertain Dream
T HE B ROADMOOR L EGACY *
A Daughter’s Inheritance
An Unexpected Love
A Surrendered Heart
B RIDAL V EIL I SLAND *
To Have and To Hold
To Love and Cherish
To Honor and Trust
D AUGHTERS OF A MANA
Somewhere to Belong
More Than Words
A Bond Never Broken
H OME TO A MANA
A Hidden Truth
A Simple Change
A Shining Light
R EFINED BY L OVE
The Brickmaker’s Bride
The Potter’s Lady
The Artisan’s Wife
www.judithmccoymiller.com
*with Tracie Peterson
Title Page
Copyright Page
© 2019 by Judith Miller
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2019
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4934-1863-3
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by Koechel Peterson & Associates, Inc., Minneapolis, Minnesota / Jon Godfredson
Author is represented by Books & Such Literary Agency.
Dedication
In memory of Dorothy Gliniecki
I’m so thankful God brought you into my life. I cherish the memories.
Contents
Cover
Half Title Page
Books by Judith Miller
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
Special Thanks
About the Author
Back Ads
Back Cover
Chapter one
Manchester, New Hampshire August 1850
“MANCHESTER! NEXT STOP, MANCHESTER!” THE CONDUCTOR raised his voice as the train hissed and chugged to a shuddering stop next to the Canal Street Depot.
Mellie Blanchard pressed her hand to her churning stomach, stood, and made her way down the narrow aisle of the passenger car. A trainman offered his hand as she descended the steps onto the wooden platform. So this was Manchester.
Rows of redbrick buildings loomed over the adjacent canal like ominous sentries assembled to keep invaders out. Or were they positioned to keep prisoners within? The thought caused a chill to race up her arms.
“Excuse me, miss, I believe you dropped this.” A young man strode across the platform, holding her copy of La Petite Fadette . His lips curved in a broad smile as he glanced at the cover. “Let me guess. You’ve come to Manchester to accept a position as governess for one of the mill owners?”
“No, I’ve come seeking employment at the mills.” She extended her gloved hand and accepted the book. “Thank you. I didn’t realize I had dropped it.”
“If you’ve come to work for the Amoskeag Company, I doubt there will be much time for reading French novels in your future.” The man’s clear blue eyes glistened like sunlight sweeping across ocean waters.
His cautionary words underscored what she’d known to be true when she boarded the train in Concord. Her life would never be the same.
“Thank you for returning my book. If you’ll excuse me, I need to see to the delivery of my baggage.” A gust of wind captured the edge of her gold silk bonnet and nearly sent it flying. She held it in place with her palm, then tucked the book into the pocket of her lightweight cloak before waving to a drayman seated atop a small wagon. When he didn’t acknowledge her, she hurried to the side of the wagon. “I have baggage I’d like delivered to Mrs. Richards’s boardinghouse, please.”
He spit a stream of tobacco juice toward the opposite side of the wagon. “This ain’t no free service. You gotta pay before I deliver. How many you got?”
“Two.” Mellie dug into her reticule and handed him the requested coins before nodding toward the side of the depot. “Follow me. They’re over here.”
He stopped short and shook his head when he caught sight of the two oversize trunks. “First off, them’s gonna cost you more. Most gals come here with one small trunk. Them things are huge.”
She stiffened her spine and squared her shoulders. “When you stated your price, you didn’t qualify a size requirement. I’ve paid your requested fee, and I expect you to deliver my belongings.”
His features tightened into a scowl, but at least he began moving toward the trunks. He reached for the leather handle on one side and tested the trunk’s weight. “This thing is heavier than a grown man.”
“You exaggerate, sir. I doubt it weighs more than a small child, and the baggage handlers in Concord had no difficulty loading it onto the train.”
The drayman braced his foot against the end of the trunk and gave a hefty push. When it slid only a few inches, he glanced about. “I gotta go find my helper. He’s likely inside the depot chewin’ the fat with the ticket master. Ain’t never around when I need him. I’ve half a mind to send him packing.”
Mellie offered a slight nod and turned toward the adjacent hillside. Rows of brick boardinghouses marched up the incline, with their slate-covered, gabled roofs and white dormers providing the only disruption in a sea of red brick and granite. Gone were the white birch and towering pines that had likely proliferated on the graceful rise before the coming of the Amoskeag Company. Had the farmers willingly sold their homesteads knowing the pastoral countryside would be forever changed, or had they been hoodwinked like the landowners down in Lowell? Of course, it no longer mattered. The farmland had already given way to industry. Even now, she could see workers constructing additional mills across the canal. How many did they need?
The drayman reappeared with a muscular young man at his side. “Finally found him.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke. Instead, he pointed the young fellow to her trunks. “These is the ones. Let’s get ’em on the wagon.” He glanced in Mellie’s direction. “I’m gonna wait for the next train before I bring your trunks, so you might as well get on over to Mrs. Richards’s boardinghouse. We’ll meet ya there in about a half hour or so.”
“If you could direct me?”
“You gals come to town with no idea what you’re in for. No wonder so many of ya end up in trouble.” He shook his head and pointed to the incline. “First boardinghouse on the third street over—Pleasant Street. You’re lucky you ain’t got too far to go. Them fancy shoes ain’t made for walking—or for working in the mills, neither.”
Mellie thanked him before heading off. She stopped and attempted to wiggle her toes before she reached Pleasant Street. Though she didn’t want to admit the drayman was correct, her right shoe was pinching her toes and she’d likely have a blister by morning. When she arrived at the front door, she took a moment to catch her breath and straighten her bonnet before knocking.
Before long, a plump dark-haired woman opened the door. Her gaze traveled from Mellie’s bonnet to the hem of her blue-gray shot silk day dress. “Can I help you, miss?”
“I’ve come about a room. I have a letter from Mr. Brownell. He was in Concord hiring for the Stark Mills. Are you Mrs. Richards?”
“I am.” The woman’s forehead creased. “You’re going to work in the mills?”
Mellie swallowed hard. “Is there some reason why I shouldn’t?”
“No.” She shook her head. “It’s just that you’re a little . . . um, a little fancier than most of the girls who appear at my door.” A nervous mumble escaped her lips as she waved Mellie forward. “Come sit down and we’ll sort this out.”
Mellie’s heart picked up a beat as she followed the older woman into a parlor off the hallway. Mrs. Richards gestured to one of the well-worn, overstuffed chairs. With her thoughts racing, Mellie forced a smile and sat down. What if Mr. Brownell hadn’t been working for the company? What if she’d been too trusting? What if she’d made this journey and spent the last of her sister’s savings for naught? What would happen to her only remaining family? Her sister, her niece, her nephew. She didn’t want them to suffer for the wrongs of their father. They needed as much security and normalcy as Margaret could provide. Mellie knew what it was like to grow up without either. After her parents died, she was shuttled off to boarding school, and her life had been forever changed.
“What else did Mr. Brownell tell you?” Mrs. Richards leaned back in the overstuffed chair.
Mellie retrieved a letter from her bag. “He gave me this and said I should present it at Stark Mill, Number One, and they would put me to work.” She offered the note to Mrs. Richards. “Someone at the train depot asked me if I was going to work for the Amoskeag Company, but I merely told him I was going to work in the mills. Are there several different companies? Mr. Brownell didn’t mention the Amoskeag Company when we talked.”
Mrs. Richards sighed. “Well, I’ll give you the easiest explanation I can, but it does get a little confusing. The Amoskeag Company owns all the land where the Stark Mills are situated, and if my memory serves me right, they have the water rights to Amoskeag Falls. Somewhere along the