by Elaine Owen
"Won't you sit down, Mrs. Thornton? I will call for tea."
It was absurdly early for such a drink but Margaret could think of nothing else to do. Hannah accepted the offer and the women took seats facing each other, a small table between them. Tension hung in the air, as thick as the smoke over Milton, while Dixon arranged the set with its cups and then left.
Margaret poured a cup from the silver urn and offered it to the other woman, but Hannah waved it away. "Thank you, but I am not here for a polite social call, Miss Hale."
"Very well." Margaret set the teacup back down on the table and sat back in her chair, bracing herself for whatever might happen next. "How may I help you, Mrs. Thornton?"
"First, I must tell you that I was sorry to hear of your father's passing. I hope John passed on my condolences to you."
The unexpected sympathy startled Margaret. Had Hannah really come now, at this time of the morning, on a bereavement call? She had not been at the funeral nor sent any kind of message before now. "Thank you, Mrs. Thornton," she said cautiously.
"Losing the man of the family often forces women to make difficult decisions."
It was a perceptive statement, and Margaret wondered if Hannah meant it to be an olive branch. Hannah's own husband, Thornton's father, had died when Thornton was young, and the Thornton family had fallen into crushing poverty as a result. Thornton had pulled them back out of poverty and into their present state of wealth only through his own relentless will and hard work. No doubt Hannah had made many difficult decisions of her own along the way. Perhaps she would not be as opposed to her son's marriage as Margaret first thought.
That hope was dashed with Hannah's next words. "Miss Hale, may I speak frankly?" Margaret nodded and Hannah moved slightly forward in her chair. "I am a direct woman, and I believe it is best if we start off our relationship with a clear understanding between us. My son is marrying you against my wishes. I offer you no congratulations. I do not approve of this marriage."
Margaret flushed and pressed her lips together, willing herself to stay silent. Hannah continued.
"Frankly, his behavior astonishes me, and I wash my hands of any responsibility for his decision. But you are his choice for a wife, and he would like to carry out the wedding ceremony as soon as possible. I came today to help make that happen. Oh, I know about John's promise to your father," she said in answer to Margaret's look. "He told me all about it. I also know about the absurd conditions of your marriage, that it will not be a real marriage at all. That is between the two of you. I am here for his sake, not for yours."
Margaret decided the time had come for her to speak. "Mrs. Thornton – " she began, but Hannah raised a hand, cutting her off.
"Let me finish my piece, please. I will accept you as my daughter-in-law, since John insists on it. I will introduce you into Milton society. I will teach you about your social obligations and how to manage the house. After all, I am not getting any younger, and social responsibilities are beginning to wear on me. It will be a relief to hand them off to someone else. But," she said sternly, fixing Margaret with a fierce look, "I will only do so on one condition. You must promise me that you will not trifle with my son's heart again. Do not, by any word or action, lead him to believe something you do not feel for him."
Margaret was taken aback. She had been prepared to respond heatedly to the veiled insults in Hannah's words, but now she could not do so. Clearly Hannah had no idea about her son's true feelings towards his intended. "Mrs. Thornton, I appreciate your candor and will now answer it with my own. Believe me when I say that I am the last person in the world who could break your son's heart again."
A strange look crossed Hannah's face, but Margaret did not stop. "I appreciate what Mr. Thornton is doing in providing me a home, and I intend to carry out my side of the bargain thoroughly. I will gladly learn whatever you think I should learn."
"Will there be any more late-night trips to the Outwood train station?" Hannah asked bluntly, the question seeming to come out of the blue.
Margaret gasped, both wounded and angered by the sudden barb. Would she ever be able to live down that evening, at the way her relationship with Frederick had been misinterpreted? She answered with as much dignity as she could muster, lifting her chin to look proudly back at the older woman. "My behavior that night was entirely innocent, Mrs. Thornton, though you may not believe me. But in any case it is entirely in the past. The circumstances that made my presence there necessary are gone."
"And you will be a loyal wife to my son?"
"It is not in my nature to do otherwise."
Hannah returned her gaze for a moment, evaluating, and finally nodded. "Then we will speak no more of my objections."
"Thank you, Mrs. Thornton."
With that, both women marginally relaxed. Margaret again offered Hannah a cup of tea, and this time she accepted it. Margaret poured her own cup and the two sipped in silence for a minute or two before Hannah spoke again.
"It will be confusing if you address me as Mrs. Thornton after you are married. You may call me by my Christian name from now on and I will do the same with you."
"Thank you – Hannah," Margaret answered, trying out the unfamiliar name for the first time. It felt strange and surreal to be sitting here with Thornton's mother, sipping tea while they both tried to bury the uncomfortable events of the past. She wondered if Thornton had urged his mother to come speak to her today or if it had been Hannah's idea alone. It did not seem likely that Thornton knew Hannah would set her own conditions for assisting Margaret. What an odd arrangement the three of them were in together, and the wedding had not even taken place yet.
Without further ceremony, Hannah stood. "Our servants will be here in an hour to start packing up the house. Show me what things you would like disposed of where, and we will get started."
∞
Margaret and Hannah spent all morning at Crampton, looking through the contents of the house and supervising as the servants began to carry out the plans Margaret had already drawn up. Boxes were filled and furniture tagged. Pictures were removed from walls, and soon the neat and tidy Crampton was nearly unrecognizable. In a few days all trace of Margaret and the Hale family would be wiped away. "Wait!" she cried as a servant moved towards the front door with a box of her father's books in his arms. Quickly she removed the Plato that had been mistakenly added on top of the set going to the circulating library. "This one stays with me."
"Yes, miss," the servant answered. Margaret sighed in relief and turned with book in hand. She nearly collided with Hannah, who had just come through the doorway from the kitchen in search of her.
"The servants will be occupied for several hours with all that we have given them to do. This is a good time to take you to my dressmaker. You will need something to wear for the wedding."
"I already have something to wear," Margaret answered, surprising herself. She had not consciously thought about it until that moment, but the decision was already in her mind, waiting to be expressed. "The white silk I wore to the dinner party at your house will serve, once I trim it in black."
Hannah remembered that particular dress all too well. It had been the first time she noticed a definite spark of attraction between her son and the tutor's daughter as they argued about the strike over the dinner table. The style and cut of fabric had shown Margaret's slim neck and delicate arms to great advantage, and John had hardly been able to take his eyes off her. "A plain white silk is not grand enough for someone marrying the most important manufacturer in town. You must choose another."
Margaret was offended. Besides the Thornton dinner party, she had worn the white silk to Edith's wedding, before she came to Milton. Wearing it for her own wedding would make her feel as though part of her family, at least, was present with her on the fateful day. "I haven't the funds to choose another," she said, lifting her chin.
"You needn't worry about that," Hannah said impatiently. "John instructed me to get whatever you need, so it wil
l all be placed on the Thornton account. If you wish to be a Thornton, now is the time to learn how to dress like one."
Margaret bit her lip, knowing she had been overruled, and rang the bell for Dixon to fetch her hat and coat.
∞
It was less than an hour later when Margaret began to doubt the wisdom of her decision to join the Thornton family.
The dresses Hannah favored were mountains of silk and lace, dreadful creations which Margaret would not have wanted to wear in any case, let alone for a simple wedding. Her own preference was for gentle simplicity. But the choice, it seemed, was no longer hers. When an exquisite French creation was lowered over her head, with frills and ribbons that seemed to fairly swallow Margaret alive, Hannah proclaimed herself satisfied. The shop owner told her it could be fitted and trimmed in three days and the decision was made. Hannah ordered the dress.
Margaret was not the least bit satisfied with this outcome. However, she felt powerless to stop the force of nature that was her future mother-in-law. It was only one day, she reasoned. She would only have to wear a garment that was so contrary to her own simple desire for one day, long enough to stand in the front of the church and say her vows. Then she could put away the detested garment and go back to her own clothing as if nothing had happened. It seemed a small price to pay in order to avoid open conflict.
Hannah, wrapped up in her own plans, did not realize how deeply Margaret resented having the decision of her wedding dress taken out of her hands. But she did see how Margaret's lips flattened tighter together, how her eyes flashed when courtesy demanded that she make at least a small response to some question posed to her. She attributed it to Margaret's southern pride and told herself it was just one adjustment of many yet to come. If Margaret wanted to become a Thornton, she would have to learn her place in the family. She, Hannah, would not allow it to be otherwise.
∞
Thornton wondered all day how Margaret and his mother were getting along. He would rather not have left them alone together, but one of his customers had missed paying a sizable bill the day before, and he had to go to the bank immediately to ensure that payroll would be met at the end of the week. It was another sign of the precarious finances Marlborough Mills still faced after the strike so many months before, and not a good omen for the future.
By the time he resolved the situation the day was far gone. Thornton left the mill office and crossed the yard separating the mill from his home, hoping to hear from Hannah that she and Margaret had had a successful first day. If he was fortunate they might be together inside the house and he could see Margaret for himself. If he was very fortunate his mother might even have invited Margaret for dinner. But instead his mother loftily informed him that Margaret had declined the chance to eat with the family. "And she was none too gracious about it," Hannah added sourly, to his immense frustration. Without a word he turned on one heel and headed straight to Crampton.
When he reached the Hale home he mounted the little stairs to the door quickly, but just as he was about to knock he let his hand drop. Margaret was visible through the little window next to the door, sitting at her father's writing desk.
She was doing nothing more significant than writing on a piece of paper, but the expression on her face caught his attention. Usually she had a peaceful, composed air that made his soul sigh with relief just to be in her presence. Today that look was gone. She looked weary, unutterably weary, as though the mere act of pushing a pen across the page were taxing her strength, and she blinked so rapidly that Thornton knew she was on the verge of tears. At length she let her pen drop and covered her face with both her hands, giving in completely to her strong emotion.
Thornton felt torn, standing on the doorstep of Crampton and watching Margaret when he knew she was not aware of his presence. Nobody would like to have their moment of private weakness exposed in such a way. But he was glad he had witnessed the little scene. He had wondered how Margaret was bearing up under the strain of all the recent changes, and now he knew. Reluctantly he raised his hand again and knocked on the door. As he did so he moved a little away from the window, hoping she would not look out and realize that he had seen her.
Dixon came to the door and took him inside at once. He entered the room just as Margaret stood to greet him, her manner as calm as ever. The only hint of her previous distress was a little redness around her eyes and in the tightly clasped hands in front of her. If he had not seen her through the window moments earlier he would have had no idea of the effort she was putting into appearances.
"Mr. Thornton! You surprised me. I was not expecting you."
He regarded her compassionately, wishing he could let her know that he knew of her distress. “I came to see if you are all right, if there is anything you need.”
“Anything I need? No, I thank you. I am quite well.”
Thornton frowned. “Mother mentioned that you declined her invitation to stay for dinner tonight."
“Oh.” Margaret looked down, then gave a little shrug. "Your mother is very kind, but we had a long day together."
This was the opening he wanted. "Did she do or say something that made you uncomfortable? You must tell me if she did. She can be imposing at times, but she has good intentions."
Margaret seemed to search for words before she answered him. "I do not mean to complain, but she insisted on ordering a new dress for the ceremony."
Thornton frowned. "I do not see how that would be a problem."
"She insisted on placing it on your account. I would prefer to pay for it myself."
Now her attitude made sense. "You must not mind that. Mother told me she would help you plan the wedding, and I told her to spare no expense." Whatever financial troubles Marlborough Mills might face, he would make sure Margaret was cared for properly.
"But I do not want to abuse your generosity. I am not marrying you for your money," she said with some asperity.
Her pride, he thought, her damnable pride. Did she not realize that he would give her anything she wanted if she just asked? "I do not suspect your motives," he answered firmly. "Get whatever you need. You will not bankrupt me."
"Thank you, Mr. Thornton."
He could tell by the unhappy downturn of her mouth that she was still unsatisfied, so he tried a different tack. "Would it help if I spoke to my mother on your behalf? I can tell her that you have decided to make your own arrangements for your dress."
At that she looked up at him with a relieved expression, her frown softening into a hint of a smile. "That would make me feel better. Thank you."
Thornton was aware that this was the first time he had seen Margaret smile since her father died. When she looked up at him in that manner, with just a slight curve on her delicate lips and the light softly reflected in her eyes, she was utterly enchanting. What he would do to bring that light into her eyes every day!
He did not want to stare so he quickly changed the subject. "I cannot stay for long," he said apologetically, "but I also wanted to let you know that I made arrangements with the minister today. The ceremony is set for six days from now. I trust this will be acceptable."
"I can be ready in six days," she answered steadily. "Thank you for letting me know."
"It is the least I could do."
Thornton did not know what to say after that. He and Margaret were in a strange position, acquaintances who would soon be joined in an unusual alliance. Many things might be said at such a time, but it was difficult to know where to start. It was Margaret who inadvertently saved the moment. "I have something of my father's that I wish to give you. If you will wait here, I will return directly."
She left the room and Thornton stood waiting. He could not help glancing around the disheveled room. The shelves had been denuded of their books, and the room had a hollow, soulless feel. Only the bare furniture remained. He hated to think of Margaret alone in such a setting.
As Thornton took in these details, he noticed that the inkwell on the table, where M
argaret had just been sitting, was lying on its side. Margaret must have upset the bottle in her haste to stand. A drop had already spilled onto the table, threatening to smear the single page of paper in front of it. He moved to restore the inkwell to its upright position, and as he did so, his eye was caught by the first lines on the page.
My dearest Frederick,
So much has happened since I wrote to you last. I have had to make many decisions in a short time, and I hope you will understand and not be hurt by the step I have taken in order to secure my own future. I have accepted an . . .
That was as far as she had written. Thornton scowled as he read the few lines again. Was this Margaret's lover in Cadiz, the one she had sent a letter to at the post office? She had said that he could not come to Milton. He could not imagine any other man she might address in such a familiar way. No wonder she had been so upset when Thornton saw her through the window – she was writing to break things off with this Frederick fellow. She was grieving for her lover.
Thornton's sense of jealousy warred with the sympathy he felt for Margaret's position. For the moment he did not know which emotion was stronger, but there was no time to think any further. Margaret's footstep sounded in the hall, and he stepped hastily away from the desk just before she re-entered the room, making an effort to compose himself. He was relieved that she did not seem to notice anything amiss.
"I've brought you Father's Plato," she said, extending a well-worn volume to him. "I thought you might like to have it."
Thornton recognized the book at once. He and Mr. Hale had spent many hours reading and discussing the essays in it. He reached out for it and let his fingers close over Margaret's as he accepted it, lingering longer than necessary. "Thank you. I will treasure it always, as I will treasure your father's memory."