three

I sat at home by the stove in the sitting room later that evening. Faith knitted while my brother-in-law Frederick read and Luke, the oldest boy at thirteen, did ciphers for school. I had been trying to catch up with my recordkeeping of whose baby was due next and who owed me a payment, but mostly I was helping Luke when he had an arithmetic question, since I had an aptitude for mathematics. The ten-year-old twins, Matthew and Mark, and eight-year-old Betsy slept upstairs.

“Rose, what about this one?” Luke extended his notebook. “I can’t figure it.” He pointed to his penciled calculation.

I took the book and peered at it under the gas lamp. The new system of electric lights in town hadn’t yet extended to this modest abode. A moody, difficult man, Frederick and his five children lived in a tidy home just uphill from the Hamilton Mill, where Faith had taken over her mother’s job after Harriet’s death a year earlier. The mill owner, Cyrus Hamilton, had ordered three identical houses built to house several workers and their families. Normally it would have been let out to a male employee. However, my brother-in-law had given special tutoring to Cyrus Hamilton’s difficult son and Cyrus apparently felt he owed Frederick some kind of debt. When the first occupants left town, Cyrus offered Frederick and Harriet the middle house of the three, now only eight years old.

After Harriet’s death, Frederick had asked if I’d like to join their household and take possession of the parlor that fronted on the lane. Despite how I felt about his moods, which sometimes resulted in a shouting match between him and his eldest children or looks of scorn delivered to his younger ones, I’d agreed. I was grateful to now have both an office in which to see clients and a bed in a real home.

My own parents lived in distant Lawrence, but I had come to Amesbury to apprentice with Orpha and to be close to my dear sister. Orpha had delivered all my sister’s children, and I’d met her at Betsy’s birth shortly after I finished my schooling in Lawrence. I was so drawn to Orpha’s profession, to her care and skill, to her understanding of both the human body and the mind, and to the miraculous process of childbirth, that I’d asked to study with her. To my great good fortune, she’d agreed. I moved to Amesbury the next week. I’d known of the New England Female Medical College, a training school for midwives, but Orpha’s teaching had been so detailed and complete that I never felt the need for further studies.

For seven years I’d rented a room in Virginia Perkell’s, an Amesbury boarding house for ladies, and visited my pregnant women in their homes. Now I helped Faith with the considerable chore of fixing meals and doing housework when I wasn’t seeing clients or out ushering a baby into the world.

When a shrill whistle went off outside and then bells began clanging in town, I set down Luke’s notebook.

“It’s the fire bell. I can smell the smoke.” Frederick was already on his feet, his heavy eyebrows lurking close to his eyes. He pushed up the sash and sniffed.

I could smell the fire, too. Luke darted upstairs. A moment later he was back.

“It’s on Carriage Hill. The flames are shooting into the sky!”

“I hope it’s not the Parry factory. Isaiah is at work.” Faith brought her hand to her mouth.

The four of us rushed up the stairs, then tiptoed into the front bedroom Luke shared with the sleeping twins. We clustered around the windows and opened one to the cold air. Sure enough, flames teased ever higher into the black sky and the smell of smoke snapped at my nose. I couldn’t tell which of the dozen carriage factories was burning. Amesbury was famous nationwide for its graceful, and well-built carriages, and the town was home to more than a dozen establishments that produced them.

The two young men who lived up the road rushed by below, buckets in hand.

“I must join them,” Frederick said, turning for the stairs.

“Father, I’m going, too.” Luke, not yet fully grown and still a string bean, pulled at Frederick’s sleeve.

“Thee? Thee is too young, Luke.” Frederick tossed his son’s hand off. “Amesbury has a fire department and many dedicated volunteers. We will extinguish the fire.”

The crushed look on Luke’s face made me want to weep. Harriet had buffered her husband’s moods for her children, but now they bore the brunt of his occasional flares into anger or contempt, which had worsened since my sister’s death.

To the sound of Frederick clattering down the stairs and the never-ending whistle piercing the night, I linked one arm through Faith’s and stretched the other around Luke’s shoulders. Faith leaned into me as a windswept rain dampened our clothing. I closed my eyes, holding Isaiah Weed in the Light.