by Elaine Owen
As soon as Mr. Bell arrived she would show him the careful lists she had made, describing household goods which would have to be disposed of in order to settle her father's affairs. Of all the items in the house, she was most concerned about her father's beloved books. She would keep a few favorite titles for herself, plus one much-marked volume of Plato that she would give to Mr. Thornton. Her father would have liked that. The rest of the volumes would go to the circulating library she had heard was coming to Milton. Her father would have liked that too.
There were a handful of other items in the house that drew her interest, primarily a few small pieces of jewelry that had belonged to her mother, along with one or two decorative plates that had sentimental value but nothing more. Everything else in the house would have to be sold or otherwise disposed of.
"You don't need to sort everything out yet, Miss Margaret," Dixon told her, coming into the kitchen with an armload of laundry. Margaret was thoughtfully looking over the silver teaspoons and wondering how much they might fetch if she were to sell them. "I don't think them Thorntons will turn us out before Mr. Bell tells you what you are to do next."
Margaret bristled at the tone.
"I am not asking Mr. Bell to tell me what to do, Dixon. That is not why Mr. Thornton asked him to come. I am simply hoping that he can advise me on the wisest course of action at this point."
Dixon rolled her eyes. Miss Margaret had a will of her own, that was for certain. "I hope he has some position in mind for you, otherwise we're likely to find ourselves out on the street!"
"Dixon." Margaret looked at her reprovingly. "You know I would never allow that to happen."
Dixon sniffed and moved away. It was not a matter of allowing or not allowing. There were some forces outside anyone's control, and Miss Margaret, of all people, should know such a thing.
There was a knock on the front door. Dixon began to put her laundry down to go answer it, but Margaret stopped her. "Let me get it, Dixon. It is probably the minister coming to finalize arrangements for tomorrow." She left the kitchen before the servant could argue with her.
When she opened the front door she was surprised to see Thornton on the step. He swept off his hat when he saw her. "Miss Hale."
"Mr. Thornton." She did not know what to say, being mystified by his appearance. "I was not expecting you."
"May I come in?" he asked, looking at her gravely.
"Now?" she blurted out, immediately regretting it. "You are not unwelcome, but we are – "
"I would not intrude on your privacy at such a time without a good reason," he interrupted. "There is news of an urgent nature that I must share with you at once."
Wordlessly she stepped aside, motioning for him to come in. He stepped past her and she closed the door, then led him to the dining room.
Bringing him to the dining room was a mistake, she realized at once. It was the same room where he had made his ill-fated proposal some months before and where she had so coldly rejected him. Surely he remembered the occasion as well as she did. But when he turned to face her his eyes were filled with compassion.
"Miss Hale," he began gently, "it is my duty to relay sad news to you."
Apprehension flashed through Margaret. Thornton had said he would contact Mr. Bell, but Mr. Bell had not yet appeared at Crampton. And she had received no word from him. "What is wrong?" she asked, a chill foreboding rushing over her.
"Mr. Bell is ill. He cannot attend the funeral. I received this letter a short time ago."
Margaret took the page he offered and read:
Thornton,
I am quite unable to come to Milton at this time. Since seeing you last I have come under a doctor's care for a wasting disease, the symptoms of which I tried to ignore for some time. You must do for Miss Hale as you think best. Pray tell Margaret that I commend her to your care, knowing she will always be thought of with affection by
Your old friend,
Adam Bell
"Oh!" Margaret gasped. She sank into the nearest chair, unable to support herself. Rarely had she been so completely at a loss for words.
"We must trust that the doctor will be able to restore Mr. Bell to full health." Thornton was watching her carefully.
"Yes – yes, we must," was all Margaret could say. "I cannot believe that he would be struck down so quickly." Inwardly she wondered what this news meant to her. What was the nature of Mr. Bell's illness? How long had he been ill? Would he make a full recovery? And most importantly, what would this mean for her plans for the future? Without Mr. Bell to guide her, she had no idea how she would support herself now. In some ways this blow was even harder than losing her father. At least when he passed she still had a hope of security somewhere, in some form. Now she had nothing at all.
"Miss Hale." Thornton drew her attention back to himself. "I am very sorry that you have been put in such a difficult position."
"Thank you, Mr. Thornton."
Thornton paused. "I realize that this is sudden, but since you cannot count on Mr. Bell's support, I feel that it is my responsibility to look after you." Margaret nodded, remembering his last words to her father. "Have you any idea where you might go after the funeral?"
Margaret forced herself to try to think logically about her situation. Working for a living, previously unimaginable, now loomed large ahead of her. "I suppose I will have to take a job somewhere."
"Doing what? For what work are you suited?"
Margaret thought. "I might advertise for a position as a governess," she suggested.
"A governess's life is uniquely disagreeable. I don't believe your father would have wanted that for you."
Margaret agreed with a shake of her head.
"Is there nobody else who can take you in? No friend or relative anywhere?"
She shook her head again, looking down. "I suppose I will have to apply somewhere as a seamstress or a domestic." Even to her own ears, her words sounded feeble. She would shrivel up inside if she had to spend every waking moment working for her own support, denied the opportunity to read her books and expand her mind.
"There is another possibility." Thornton came to stand in front of her, looking down at her seriously, clasping his hat in his hands. A flash of awareness went through Margaret, a quick sense of what he might be about to say.
"Miss Hale, you need a home and a new situation in life. I need to fulfill my promise to your father, when I swore that I would care for you. I propose marriage between us."
Margaret heard the words but could not fully comprehend them. She stared but remained silent, and Thornton continued. "This would be a marriage of convenience. You would fulfill the duties of a daughter of the house, nothing more. You will take my room while I take the guest room. You may recall that my sister is getting married and will be leaving the house soon. You will learn from my mother how to manage the household and to act as a hostess for social events, eventually relieving her of those duties. In this way I believe we will all benefit from the arrangement."
Thornton spoke brusquely, his voice calm and detached. It was as different as could be from his first proposal, when he had been a man bent on declaring his passion. Now he sounded like a master negotiating a business deal.
"You would marry me simply to honor your promise to my father, with no regard for your own desires or wishes?" Margaret finally answered, incredulous. "How could you consider such a thing?"
"I am a gentleman, and I understand my obligations as such." For a moment Thornton's eyes flashed. Margaret's startled mind went back to the day of his first proposal to her, when she had as good as accused him of being nothing more than a man of trade. "Whatever you may think of me, I am bound to honor my word."
Margaret winced. Once before she had misjudged this man, believing that a man who earned a living with his hands did not understand honor. She tried to keep her voice steady. "It is a generous offer, Mr. Thornton. Your respect for my father is gratifying. But your mother would never accept such an arrangemen
t."
"My mother would agree that I must honor my word. She would not like it, but she would accept it. Besides, it would not be without benefit to her. As time goes by she has grown to enjoy society less and less. Once your mourning period is over you could take over her social responsibilities." He continued to gaze down at her.
Margaret shook her head vehemently. "A marriage of convenience is not my desire."
"Nor mine. But I am making the offer nonetheless. I urge you to consider it carefully." He paused, one eyebrow rising questioningly. "Unless you have other, more attractive, offers?"
Margaret did not answer. She looked away, wanting to avoid his piercing gaze. Ordinarily she would be angered by such a presumptive question, but she did not have that luxury now. If she did not accept his offer, what would happen to Dixon and Mary? How could she continue to support her friend Nicholas Higgins and the children he was raising if she had to work for her own living? Yet there was no guarantee that Thornton would allow her to continue her charitable work, and marrying a man for anything other than love was unthinkable. "I do not have any other offers," she finally said, quietly, "but I must have time to consider what to do."
"Very well," Thornton answered. "Take your time, but not too much. I truly see no other options open to you." He replaced his hat on his head and made for the door, turning in the doorway to look at her one more time. "My sister's wedding is just over a month away. If we are to marry it would be best to do so quickly, so as not to distract from her nuptials." He gave her a quick bow, turned, and was gone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“It Is a generous offer." Margaret heard her own words replay in her head the remainder of that day and all evening, as she tossed restlessly upon her bed. "Your respect for my father is gratifying."
"Whatever you may think of me, I am bound to honor my word."
"Your mother would never accept such an arrangement."
"She would not like it but she would accept it."
"You would marry me simply to honor your promise to my father, with no regard for your own desires or wishes?"
"There is no other way for me to provide for you."
Margaret weighed her options, turning them over and over again in her mind. Had she not always despised women who married solely for money? Yet here she was, contemplating the same situation for herself.
Perhaps she should forget about Milton, go to Corfu, and take refuge with her cousin. It was not entirely out of the question. If she chose, she could prevail on Dixon to make the long journey with her, to the place where she would be accepted into the bosom of her family once again. She could live there until it was time to return to England. She would be with Edith and her Aunt Shaw, and all would be as it was when she and Edith were children together.
But no, she told herself, it would not be as when they were children. Edith was a wife and mother now. She had responsibilities Margaret could not share. With no way to support herself Margaret would be a burden, another mouth to feed, an intruder in a busy household. Edith had enough burdens. Margaret did not want to be one more responsibility.
From Corfu her mind turned to Frederick and Cadiz, and here she faced real temptation. What better place to mourn her father and everything else she had lost in Milton than with her own brother? It would be sweet to live under the same roof with him again. They had not lived in the same house since she was ten years old. It would please her to have a relationship with him once more, to come to know his wife, and to be on hand to welcome the children they would eventually have.
Yet here were some of the same objections as joining her cousin in Corfu. Would it be fair to impose herself on her brother and his wife? Frederick and his Delores were newly married, and although Margaret knew Frederick would never turn her away, she would be even more of an intruder in their lives than she would in Edith's. They needed time to establish their own household before welcoming a new member.
Besides this, Margaret knew that if she went to Spain it was unlikely that she would ever return to England. Margaret had lately noticed more and more of a change in the way Frederick expressed himself in his letters. There were certain expressions and turns of phrase that spoke more of Spanish than of English, and which proved that Frederick was losing touch with his native language. Along with the change in language came a consequent change in outlook and even of identity. Frederick stated opinions that were more in line with those of citizens of the continent than those of England. Once Margaret was with him, she would probably never have reason to come back to the land of her birth.
Well then. If leaving England forever was out of the question, her only option would be Mr. Thornton.
She tried to picture what a future with the stern mill owner might be like. He was a decent man, diligent in his care of his family, honest and hard working. She would be under his protection, living the comfortable life of a prosperous tradesman's wife. It would be a safe and predictable arrangement.
She could trust and respect Thornton. He was not a gentleman in the common interpretation of the word, but Margaret had finally learned that the truest gentlemen were those who lived up to the name, not necessarily those born to the title.
But you do not love him, her heart railed, and he no longer cares for you. How can you marry a man who has not engaged your affections?
To this she had no ready answer, except to say that she was weary. She was weary from the struggle of the last two years, scraping for every penny while she watched the family fortunes decline. She was worn down from bearing so much responsibility, holding the well-being of so many others on her shoulders for so long. If a decent man was willing to care for her for the rest of her life, and to do so with a minimum of disturbance to her sensibilities, why should she fight against it? She should accept his offer and be grateful that for once, her way would be made easy.
As for romantic love, if Thornton could live without it then she thought, with a trace of defiance, that she probably could as well. Romance had not served her well so far in her life, and she had Nicholas’s wards, the Boucher children, to look out for whenever her motherly instincts needed expression. No doubt she would find other children in Milton who could use her help, and eventually other charitable endeavors would take her time and attention. In her new position she might even have new opportunities to assist others. After some time, she would forget that she had ever wished for anything more for herself.
Still, when she lay in her bed that night the tears flowed long and freely, as Margaret wept for what her fondest dream had once been.
The funeral the next morning was poorly attended, as Margaret had anticipated. She sat silent and stiff next to the minister's wife, the only other female attendee. On the other side of the aisle sat Thornton, Nicholas Higgins, and three other acquaintances. Not even the other masters in town, most of whom had attended social gatherings with Mr. Hale, thought enough of his death to honor his services with their presence.
When the service was over Margaret walked slowly up the aisle and out the door of the building, just ahead of the minister and his wife, her black bonnet blocking out any view of Thornton. Yet though she could not see him, she could feel his eyes on her as she went. When would he ask her for a response to his proposal? She both dreaded and anticipated the conversation.
Nicholas and the few other attendees greeted her respectfully and stepped away, and then it was just Margaret, the minister and his wife, and Thornton left lingering in the churchyard. In the distance Margaret could hear the sound of metal against earth and stone as the grave diggers did their work.
Thornton finally approached, greeting the minister and his wife and then expressing the usual sympathies to Margaret. She responded in kind.
"Thank you for coming today, Mr. Thornton."
"It was my honor. I will always treasure your father's memory. He was a good friend to me."
Margaret nodded soberly. Thornton glanced at the other two people present, then back at Margaret.
&nb
sp; "Miss Hale, may I have the privilege of escorting you back to Crampton?"
"You may. Thank you, Mr. Thornton." Thornton offered her his arm and Margaret took it. He drew her hand into the crook of his arm and Margaret could not help noticing how pleasant it was to be so protected, sheltered against the crisp autumn wind by his tall body. They took their leave of the others and then she and Thornton turned together towards her home.
They walked slowly out of the churchyard, down a quiet street where there were few passersby. It was only a short distance from the church to Crampton, and Margaret wondered how long Thornton would take to speak.
It was not very long.
"You have my deepest sympathy for what you have endured these last few days, Miss Hale. I know what it is to suddenly lose a parent."
Margaret nodded tiredly, recalling the tragic circumstances around the death of Thornton's father. "It has been difficult, but Dixon and I are doing the best we can."
There was a brief pause. "You look weary."
"I did not sleep well last night."
"I see." They took a few more steps in silence. "I hope it was not my offer yesterday that disturbed your rest."
So here it was. He was going to ask for her answer. "Mr. Thornton, may I speak plainly?"
He looked down at her carefully, his blue eyes darker than usual. "I would not have you do otherwise."
"I am still astonished that you would make an offer which must go so sorely against your own desires, that you would give up any chance for a more – " she paused, "conventional marriage."
"I have explained my motive for doing so. I only need to know your answer. Whether you accept me or not, I will still be obligated to make sure you are safe."
There was no passion in his voice. She waited for him to speak of love or attachment, but there was nothing. It was clear that, to him, this was simply a business arrangement.