Nowhere But North

by Nicole Clarkston

  He went to her and took the hand she extended. “It is not the end of all things, Mother. I am looking out for another position, and I’ve an appointment with Slickson tomorrow to discuss an opportunity. Mr Bell’s attorney is coming from London later in the afternoon, to sign papers granting a sublease until mine expires. If I can find someone willing to take it on!”

  “And where will you go? Where are you to live, John? Would that the doctor’s house was large enough—”

  “Mother—” he stopped her—“Margaret and I will manage. You are good to be concerned, and I am grateful that your situation is secure, but you must not fear for us.”

  Hannah glanced to Margaret, and a peculiar thought seemed to edge her mouth upward. “Then I shall not. You, the pair of you, are too stubborn not to succeed in some manner. Heaven help any who stand in your way.”

  Twenty-Three

  The study would be the hardest.

  John released a low sigh as he stood in the centre of the room, daunted by the stacks surrounding him. They meant to sell most of the other household items, and a man from Harper’s was coming on the morrow to give him a price for all of it. Margaret’s old writing desk they would keep, and Mr Hale’s settee, which held so many sweet memories for them both.

  But his study… all those books, some of them treasured as his earliest purchases when he could afford them, others cherished as Mr Hale’s belongings… they could not keep them all.

  Margaret had set to work industriously at his side, and he had nearly wept. Not for grief—no, not in any sorrow, but in relief and pride. It pained him to see her carefully sorting her father’s things, pierced him anew each time she smiled wistfully and added another to the stack to be sold, and threatened to undo him when she would look up with that sheen in her eyes. There was no accusation, no regret, but satisfaction, fellowship, and faith. What had he ever done to deserve her?

  “Do you think we have space enough for Papa’s sermons?” she wondered, her fingers grazing down a stack of handwritten journals. “They are so many… I wish I could have sent them to Frederick, for he would have treasured them.”

  He crouched again beside her. “Keep them, Margaret. I have read some of them myself, and it is like hearing your father’s voice again in my ear. Do not discard them, by any means. I will forego a chair if I must, to make space.”

  She turned, her nose brushing his cheek. “I have thought of something else we could do to save space.”

  “Have you? Pray, tell.”

  She kissed the lower edge of his ear, then whispered, “Let us keep only your bed. I never liked sleeping alone in mine, anyway.”

  “Or better yet,” he murmured back, his tones suggestive, “let us sell mine as well, and buy a smaller one. Then you could not evade me so easily.”

  She sputtered in laughter, leaning on his shoulder until he could see nothing else for it but to draw her into his embrace and kiss her as she deserved. The tower of journals was soon scattered by her skirts as she shifted to return his affections, and her arms looped possessively round his neck.

  He laid her back, supporting her with his arm, and only forsook the pleasure of gazing at her for the tempting, soft kisses she brushed over his lips. He closed his eyes and felt the sigh of her breath, her fingers in his hair, and the even drumming of her heart against his. What need had a man for anything but her? His was a wealth that could not be counted in pounds, shillings or pence, and he meant to revel in her as a miser did his gold.

  “I… hope I am not interrupting,” came a voice from the doorway.

  Margaret gasped and straightened, and John cleared his throat. They were both still splayed on the floor, and he scrambled to his feet to help her before he turned to identify their surprise visitor.

  It was Margaret who recognised him first. “Mr Bell!”

  “Well, Margaret, my dear, it is you! I had wondered for half a moment,” he chuckled, seeming vastly pleased with himself. “Would you prefer that I came back at another time?”

  “No!” John had recovered some of his dignity and extended a hand. “You are most welcome, Mr Bell, but we had not expected to see you. I thought you still in South America.”

  “Did you? I am quite certain I wrote of my intentions to travel back in the spring.”

  “You mentioned something of it last autumn, but we had heard nothing since.”

  “I did not think you needed to,” Bell retorted with a wry twinkle to his eye. He turned then to Margaret. “Well, my dear, let me look at you. I see that married life has not, after all, been the death of you.”

  John arched a brow. How much had Bell been informed of in her letters? For there was a time when it almost had been….

  “Quite the opposite,” she assured Bell with a smile, which she then bashfully bestowed upon John. “I am most content.”

  “And your husband has not been too tiresome? I understand such creatures can be, but of course I could not speak on that point.”

  Margaret laughed and lifted her hand for John to take, as the fine lady she was. “You would not believe me if I told you that Mr Thornton is without fault, but our mutual flaws are well suited.”

  John glanced down in guilty confirmation and found her smiling up at him with such affection that he forgot, for half a pulse, the presence of their visitor.

  “Well, my dear—” Bell coughed politely—“I believe you may be the first person to accuse John Thornton of some deficiency and manage to provoke him to smile at you for it. I always suspected him of some sense, and I am glad to see I was not, after all, entirely wrong.”

  “Even a fool knows when he has been given a treasure,” John answered, regretfully tearing his eyes from the amused sparkle in hers. “Mr Bell, may we offer you something? I am afraid the cook has gone, but we’ve some cold provisions. You must have been on a train all day.”

  Bell shook his head and waved a dismissive hand. “No, no, just a chair, please. This dratted gout—ah, that is better! Thank you, my dear.” Bell sagged heavily in the chair Margaret had led him to, and his eyes began to wander about the room as John and Margaret settled into a sofa facing him. His countenance changed, and he sighed.

  “I heard about the mill yesterday when I arrived in London. I am sorry, Thornton! I’d no idea you were in such straits. Margaret, you have married a taciturn, hard-headed fellow. Somehow, he can contrive to honestly lay out his circumstances, concealing nothing of fact or import, and yet in so confident a manner that none could suspect he did not have every expectation of success. Thornton, I did not like to lose you as a tenant, but for Margaret’s sake I was even more troubled. It simply will not do! Naturally, I came myself instead of my solicitor to see what might be done.”

  “What might be done?” Margaret repeated with arched brows and a note of suspicion. “Had you some particular thought?”

  John felt her glance in his direction, and a shiver of concern washed over him. Her hopes for him were everything generous, but perhaps she did not understand the cost of accepting charity!

  “Why, naturally, child. Although, I would not like you to think I might prove the answer to all the mill’s troubles—my pockets are not so deep as that just now. A month—nay, a fortnight even, will tell.”

  “Mr Bell—” John shook his head—“I must thank you for your concern, but we will ask nothing of you. We had settled it between ourselves that we were to go elsewhere, and go we shall.”

  “And where will you take my god-daughter, Thornton? Have you work yet? A situation? No! It will not do. You must remain here, for I am not impoverished, after all. I can at least grant you a month or two of rent on the house, or as long as it takes to determine your course. I’ll not have Hale’s old books feed the fire—” he gestured about the room—“simply because you must remove in a hurry and can scarcely put a roof over them.”

  John and Margaret glanced at each other. “I do have a situation secured for us, sir; another house, already taken under contract, and one or two sou
nd prospects for work. I would hardly describe our circumstances as desperate.”

  Bell studied him for a moment, then turned his attention to Margaret. “I see how it is. All the foolhardiness of young lovers, not a care in the world save one another. Well, let me be the last to disrupt your happy poverty, but I will be satisfied on certain points. Margaret is still my god-daughter—well, you are, my dear, or at least, I have taken you as such. Since Frederick was christened as my god-son, I’ve taken a fancy to claiming both my old friend’s children. Surely I must be permitted some dignity regarding her provision.”

  Margaret leaned forward and took his hand between hers. “You are generous, Mr Bell, but you must look for another tenant for the mill, and the house will likely be desired by the same.”

  “If it is, what matter a month or two? They can wait to take possession of the house if it is not ready. My real reason for wishing to do something now, Thornton, is that I expect to be in a fine way rather soon. You must have heard of that rail speculation of Wright’s—indeed, I believe he must have approached you.”

  John felt his face twitching, and Margaret was now shifting her gaze towards him. “He did, but I refused.”

  “As I expected you might, but no matter, for my man had invested a fair sum of mine there. We should begin seeing the pay-out at almost any moment, and then I shall have the power to be of real use to you. Meanwhile, Thornton, what do you say to a loan of three hundred pounds? I am afraid it is the best I can do at present, but it would go some way, would it not?”

  A lump tightened in his chest, squeezing round his throat, and he felt, once again, Margaret’s eyes on him. How could he disappoint her with his refusal? And yet, how could he respect himself if he accepted?

  His teeth clenched, and he risked one regretful glance at her face, but rather than hopeful pleading, discovered resolve. Her look was grave and quiet; trusting and speaking of a will united with his own. He began to breathe a little.

  “I thank you, Mr Bell—” he slid his eyes from her and back to the gentleman—“but I cannot.”

  “What is this? Not even to save your business? What could you do with three hundred pounds in the short-term?”

  “Nothing but inspire false hope, sir. I am afraid it would take at least double that to set matters right—enough to purchase cotton and time. We had orders we were never able to fill, but I found other mills to take them on, and now I have no buyers at all. Additionally, I would have to approach the bank again to take out another loan on my own machinery, as it is all forfeit—and at present, I have not the credit to do so. I mean no slight against your generous offer, for it is indeed kind of you. Three hundred pounds would put us in cotton long enough to begin, but we could not sell it quickly enough to go on.”

  “Yes, but three hundred is only the beginning. I mean to do more, and I shall be able to soon. You would not refuse an old man the pleasure of being useful to his god-daughter.”

  “I would not place the mill in a situation which depends upon circumstances beyond anyone’s control. My men deserve better than false starts and uncertainty. It is a matter of proper timing, sir.”

  Bell narrowed his eyes and touched a finger to his lips. “Then, indeed, I am being scolded for my reticence when I first heard of your marriage. Had I offered the same then, you are telling me, you might have done more with it? You had sufficient cause to expect something then, did you not?”

  “Mr Bell!” Margaret’s cheeks had flushed. “Do you mean to imply that Mr Thornton had mercenary motives when we wed?”

  “Thornton? You married a manufacturer, Margaret. Do not they all require capital? I confess, I noted some fascination between the pair of you last year, but I never thought you would have him. The timing, as Thornton says, gave me pause, for I knew he was in some difficulty after the strikes, and I was just contrary enough to think perhaps it was no more than a business arrangement on both your parts. The little scene I witnessed earlier proves to me what a fool I was in that regard, but I was not entirely without cause for concern, was I? I wished to see you content with my own eyes, Margaret, and your letters had each sounded rather despondent.”

  “Mr Bell,” John broke in, the heat rising in his face, “I had no expectations of you, and cannot now accept what you might consider as charity, granted with one hand, while the other dictates terms. Dignity, honour, even my feelings for my wife object. You think I married Margaret for what advantages I might have gained? Indeed, perhaps I did, for I have gained in every possible way, but I care nothing for your money or your support. I am already more blessed than I deserve, and I will not bear the injustice of hearing her, or myself, suspected of anything but the sincerest attachment or the noblest reasons for marriage.”

  Bell gazed up from his chair with a crooked smile, shaking his head. “I was attempting to apologise, Thornton. I was wrong, and I would make what amends I can. Sit down and let us speak of this rationally. You are too intelligent to bear a grudge against a man because you were once thwarted! I speak both of myself and of Wright. Is my money tainted because I was a stubborn, grieving old goose who could not wish you happiness when I first heard of your marriage? Does it have blood on it because I have invested with the son of the man who swindled your father?”

  The tension began to drain from his shoulders, and he looked again to Margaret. “Mr Bell,” she explained in her sweet, sensible voice, “let it all be forgotten. The conversation can have no purpose save to agitate those who are meant to profit by it. Mr Thornton was quite correct when he said before that a loan would only delay the inevitable, and therefore it would be unfair to accept.”

  “Did you not hear all I said? I shall have more than I know what to do with inside a month. Can you so readily allow your husband to pass up this chance, Margaret? I should have thought it enough of a comedown in the world for you to become a manufacturer’s wife, but an overseer, a common shopkeeper? No, no, I recall how calmly you removed from London and Helstone to come here, and I see you have settled well, so that is perhaps an unreasoning fear. I shall have faith that you, my dear, might content yourself almost anywhere, but your husband would run mad within a week, having so little to do after having once found such success. He would drive you to distraction, I will warrant.”

  Margaret laughed softly. “It would not be the first time he has done so, nor the last, Mr Bell. I have become rather fond of anticipating how he will shock me next. I do know, however, that he is quite determined, and I am in agreement with him. It might harm more than it could mend, with so much that remains uncertain. Surely, you must also know that his reluctance to enter into a short-term loan is out of concern for you as well as for himself.”

  “Ah, yes, I see it. You are cynical because Wright was involved, and you think I shall be left holding nothing but my hat. That is it, is it, Thornton? Well, you may set your mind at ease, because I invested nothing I could not afford to lose, though others might have done more. It was enough that the return shall see to all my own wants and then some. Thornton, you would truly pass up an opportunity to start the mill back to work the sooner because you doubt so strongly? Prudence has its place, of course, but I think this excessive caution must be unwarranted.”

  “Be that as it may—” John slipped his hand over Margaret’s shoulders, drawing her close and caring little for the teasing twinkle in Bell’s eye when he did so—“we must respectfully decline, sir. We shall proceed with our plans to remove so the house may be let by another. If you must exert yourself on our behalf, I would be most appreciative of any contacts to whom you might forward a recommendation, as I have not yet found a situation which presents itself to me as suitable to our wants.”

  Bell sighed, and his look passed from John to Margaret, and back again. “Well, suit yourself, Thornton. But you are going nowhere today, and I should prefer to impose upon you for lodgings, rather than taking my chances at a hotel. I know Mrs Thornton’s rooms will be well-aired and comfortable—” he spared Margaret a win
k—“and the company is the best in Milton.”

  ~

  Mr Bell remained with them only one day, for the presence of a guest when one is removing to a new residence cannot be welcome. He did not go far, only to a hotel three streets from the mill, but Margaret felt keenly the loss. That night he had stayed with them, the old stone house on Marlborough Street had rung with more laughter than she had ever known it to do. It felt to her so very much like the old days in Crampton that she almost expected to see her father reclining in a fourth chair by the fire, and to hear her mother stirring in the next room.

  The next day brought a sad recollection of their true circumstances, for after their most immediate belongings were packed into a drayage cart, she took her husband’s arm and they walked the half mile to their new residence. Many a face greeted her on their route. Some looked on in pity, others in disdain, but more with lost hope. John Thornton had been the idol upon whom they had placed their faith, and he had fallen as any other mortal man.

  She squeezed her arm through his and glanced up to him; read the tightness behind his eyes and the grim line of his mouth. He would face them as a man, as one who could stand proudly knowing he had done all with honour, but he did not do so without sorrow and regret for what he could not complete.

  Their new residence was, indeed, much smaller even than the Crampton house. It boasted two bedrooms, a small area that could be termed a sitting room on each of its floors, a respectably sized utility closet that might do for a bedroom at a scrape, and a kitchen which Dixon instantly pronounced to be abysmal. With so little space to fill, they were settled quickly.

  Hannah found her assistance unnecessary when she arrived to help put things into order, but her presence was welcome to Margaret in more meaningful ways. That hour they spent over tea while John was out on a business call served to christen the little abode and make it into a home. When her guest had gone away again, she could look about the humble walls and feel that this, now, was her place in the world, and it was well with her.