Carnegie’s Maid: A Novel

February 22, 1865

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Dearest Clara,

The factory jobs were not as plentiful as we had hoped. In fact, Galway City has a surprising dearth of industry. Given the amount of water running from nearby Lough Corrib, the city could power many mills. But farming still dominates, leaving us with few opportunities for work. Dad was able to secure a job at Persse’s Distillery, which sits on Nun’s Island, formed by a fork in the River Corrib, and produces more whiskey than any other distillery outside of Dublin. He will be working as one of the men heating the liquids in the mash machines, a dangerous position. In fact, the job only became open because the man who’d held it previously died from his burns. Mum refused to allow him to take it at first until she realized that no other job would be forthcoming. And so she relented.

There was nothing for me or Mum, so we will have to contribute by taking in piecework from a local seamstress, but astonishingly, Cecelia found a temporary post also at Persse’s Distillery. She will be helping sell the residual mash left over from the distillation process to local farmers who use it for feeding their cattle. When you think about all the convincing farmers need to buy that mash—we’ve all heard the rumors about how it taints the cows’ milk—you can understand why the distillery folk chose Cecelia. With her bronze hair and striking green eyes, she is the picture of innocence, capable of distracting a wary farmer from his hesitations over buying the mash.

The wages are low, and of course, we have to purchase our food as there is no land upon which we can plant seed. We will have money enough to eat and contribute to Aunt Catherine’s household, but little left over even for the necessaries. The money you send us is more important now than ever, and we say prayers nightly for your continued success.

I hope your Pittsburgh is cleaner than this outpost that calls itself a city. Even though factories and mills are few, the foul air spewing from them leaves an indelible mark upon the city streets, buildings, and people. I understand now that the fresh air of rural Tuam spoiled me forever. Coughing, from Aunt Catherine’s family, from her neighbors, even from Mum, Dad, and Cecelia, especially given our constant, close proximity to one another, is more prevalent now than the chirping of birds once was. Do you despair of a clean breath as well?

Upon reading this letter, I see that I have painted a bleak picture for you. The actuality of our daily life is not as despairing. We have each other, and we have the support of Aunt Catherine and her family. And that is more than many in these hungry days. Worry not.

Please write me, Clara, with more details of your new American life. Tell me tales of your wealthy masters and mistress, until I can imagine a life as grand.

Until then, I am forever yours,

Eliza

I dipped my pen in the inkwell, intending to invent stories for Eliza’s entertainment. I even wrote the name “Mr. Carnegie” before my pen stopped. I was unable to pretend anything for Eliza when it came to him.

The details of the Carnegies’ lavish life would not be invention, of course, but the ebullience and happiness that she imagined it brought would be. Ever since our encounter in the library and Mr. Carnegie’s conversation about Scotland with his mother, Mr. Carnegie’s business trips had grown longer, and his presence became more and more uncommon. Without him and his uplifting spirit, a dreariness had settled upon Fairfield, particularly on my mistress. I shuddered to think what the house might be like if he should get his wish of a consular post in Scotland.

The only consolation for me was that as Mrs. Carnegie grew ever more despondent, her dependence upon me grew. Although I loathed the reason behind this, I knew that I’d achieved the indispensability I’d sought. And that it would serve my family well.