by Elaine Owen
"I did not want it to be lost. It nearly went to the circulating library by mistake today."
"It will occupy a place of honor in our home."
Margaret nodded and stepped back, dropping her gaze. "Please thank your mother for the invitation to dinner. I am sure I will be pleased to accept it another time."
Her formality amused him. "In a week you will be eating dinner with us every night," he reminded her. "Do not hesitate to let me know if there is anything I can do to assist you between now and then."
She flushed. "I will be sure to do so."
He could easily stand there all night, admiring the soft color on her cheeks and enjoying her presence, but he had run out of excuses to linger. "Good night, Margaret."
"Good night, Mr. Thornton."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was now just three days before the wedding. Time had managed to compress itself and yet also stretch out interminably as Thornton anticipated his wedding day, when he would finally be able to publicly commit himself to Margaret for the rest of his life.
He had given a great deal of thought to the letter he had inadvertently read from Margaret to her gentleman in Cadiz, the man he had seen her with on the train platform.
On the one hand he detested the very name of Frederick, the man who, he surmised, had loved Margaret and been loved in return, but who had abandoned her in her hour of need. A gentleman who did not exercise every power at his disposal to protect those he loved was beneath notice. Thornton would rather cross the street than acknowledge such a man's existence. The fact that this man had hurt Margaret, in particular, gave him that much more reason to despise him.
On the other hand he was jealous of his rival's hold over Margaret. Thornton would have given his right arm to have Margaret address him with a term of endearment; but so far she had not, to the best of his knowledge, even spoken his first name. What had this Frederick fellow done to inspire being called her dearest, when she still addressed her future husband with the exceedingly formal Mr. Thornton? The secret gnawed at him.
Perhaps in time he would be able to solve the mystery, but tonight he was willing to put it aside. Yesterday his mother had told him that Margaret had finally accepted her invitation to dinner, and tonight they would share their first meal together as an engaged couple. Oh, she was not eating with him, specifically; Hannah and Fanny would also be present. But he was glad that Hannah and Margaret seemed to be getting along, and at least he would be able to see her over the dinner table. The thought of the evening ahead was enough to make him leave work on time, for once, and to put a little energy in his step as he crossed the yard to his home.
When he entered the house he went straight to the parlor, eager to see Margaret, but he found only his mother and sister. They were sitting in their usual spots as though nothing momentous were occurring. They did not look up at him nor move a muscle when he entered the room, though they must have been aware of his arrival.
"Where is Margaret?" he asked, addressing Hannah as his eyes swept around the room. "I thought she was coming for dinner tonight."
"She decided not to stay," his mother answered, keeping her eyes on the newspaper she was reading. "She left a few minutes ago."
"Why?"
"She did not tell me." Hannah turned a page of the paper without looking up, and by her stiff manner Thornton was certain there was more to the story.
Fanny, in the chair next to her mother, was not so reluctant to speak. "Margaret thinks she is better than us," she said petulantly, stabbing at the embroidery in her hand with little grace. "Really, John, I do not see why you are marrying her. She is nothing but the daughter of a poor tutor, and you are one of the wealthiest men in Milton. You could have anyone you want. If she wants to be part of this family, she could at least show a little gratitude!"
Thornton stared at her. "Gratitude? What do you mean?"
Hannah finally lowered the newspaper to look at her son. "Margaret's wedding dress was delivered here from the dressmaker's today. I asked her to try it on, but she would have none of it! She refused to even look at it. When I tried to insist, she said she had to leave. Such indelicacy I have never seen!"
"What do you mean her wedding dress was delivered here? She already had a dress, did she not?"
"Don't be silly, John," Fanny interjected. "The wedding dress Margaret wanted to wear had no sense of style whatsoever to it. Mother was right to get her a new one."
"I didn’t ask your opinion, Fanny!" Thornton answered sharply, and he was pleased to see Fanny's face flush and hear her gasp of indignation in return. He turned back to Hannah. "Mother, Margaret did not want the dress you chose for her. I told you that. You knew she was making other arrangements. You should have canceled the order."
"I thought she might change her mind once she saw the final product. But she would not even look at it!"
"She said she was offended by Mother's lack of manners," Fanny said, peevishly. "Then she marched out of here as though she were the queen herself!"
"She did that?" Thornton could not help smiling to himself. It was so like Margaret to maintain her dignity in the face of insult, for insult was exactly what she had received. His smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. He knew, without any further questioning, what Hannah had tried to accomplish.
"Mother, you owe Margaret an apology."
Hannah gave a small huff of indignation. "I owe her no such thing. You seem to think that her storming out of here was my fault. All I did was ask her to consider wearing something more suitable for her new station in life!"
"You did more than that – you offended her on purpose!” Thornton glowered at his mother. ”You had best resign yourself to Margaret being my wife for I will not have it otherwise. You will not frighten her away with your demands."
"I was not trying – "
"Yes, you were," he cut in roughly. "Some part of you hoped that if I would not break things off with her, you could get her to do it herself. But Margaret is made of sterner stuff than that!" He whirled around and headed to the front door, replacing his hat as he went.
Hannah rose to her feet in alarm. "John! Where are you going?"
"To find Margaret and make amends for what you have done. I hope I am not too late."
"But you cannot be happy with a woman who does not love you! Think what you are doing!"
"I will be happy, Mother, as long as I have her. Only do not try to interfere again."
Thornton gained the door quickly, but when his hand was on the doorknob he turned to face Hannah again, barely keeping his voice under control. "Do not force me to choose between you and Margaret, Mother, for I will not be answerable for the consequences if you do! If you love me you must try to love Margaret too." He walked out of the room, leaving an aghast Hannah behind.
He went to Crampton at once, but was startled when Dixon told him that Miss Margaret was not home. He eyed the housekeeper suspiciously.
"Do you mean that she is not at home to me, or that she is truly outside the house?"
"I mean that she is not at home." Dixon lifted her chin proudly.
Thornton clenched his jaw, holding back his temper. "Dixon, your mistress left Marlborough Mills some time ago in an agitated state. If she does not want to see me, I will not invade her privacy. But if she is out somewhere in Milton by herself, I must know so that I can see her safely home. Tell me what I need to know or else step aside!"
Dixon sputtered indignantly. "The mistress is not here! I haven't seen her since she left this afternoon to go see Mrs. Thornton. Said she didn't know when she'd be back and that I shouldn't hold supper for her."
"Have you any idea where she might have gone?"
"Not likely. Any other night she might have been over to Nicholas Higgins' house, but I hear there's a union meeting tonight so he wouldn't be to home. She's like to be most anywhere."
"Thank you. Send word to Marlborough Mills if Miss Hale comes back without me. And when you are a servant in our home in
a few days, remember to answer a direct question truthfully the first time." He spun around before the housekeeper could respond.
Where would Margaret go, alone and upset, while the twilight was setting? It was early autumn and the darkness came on quickly at this time of year. The lamp lights would be lit soon, and Thornton did not like to think of Margaret on the streets by herself at such a time. Where else would she go, if not to Higgins' house? Where was Higgins' house, he thought irrelevantly. He would have to find out, if Margaret was set on continuing her friendship with that man after they were married.
After a moment of indecision Thornton, as if by instinct, turned and walked down the street until he reached the corner. There he made a turn and walked swiftly to the only place he could imagine Margaret being when she needed comforting and had nowhere else to turn.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Margaret stood alone in the quiet churchyard, shivering a little as she gazed down at her father's fresh grave.
She had come here in a rush after leaving Marlborough Mills, hoping to find answers for her anger and confusion, but instead found only emptiness. There was nobody here. No one could hear the thoughts swirling in her head or sense the roiling emotions threatening to pull her under. She was alone, her despair weighing her down like heavy skirts in a muddy stream.
"Papa," she whispered to herself, hoping her father could somehow hear her. She knew it was a fanciful notion, but she had nobody else with whom to share her thoughts. A tear slid down her cheek, unbidden, and she quickly wiped it away. "I may have ruined everything. Mr. Thornton agreed to provide for me by marrying me, but I lost my temper with his mother and said things I should not have said. I do not know if he will ever forgive me."
Margaret's anger rose as she thought of Hannah's high-handed manner, and for a moment she was fiercely glad that she had reacted the way she had. But then she remembered Dixon and Mary, and the six children Nicholas Higgins was raising on his own. Her heart sank again. She did not mind being punished for her own misdeeds, but those she cared for should not suffer as well. For their sake she wished she had controlled her temper better.
"Mr. Thornton has been kind to me," Margaret went on, “but I do not see how this marriage can work. His mother resents me and his sister wants nothing to do with me. I do not know if I will be able to manage Mr. Thornton's house or his family without being constantly resentful and angry. Surely that is not what you wanted for my future." Margaret paused, as if waiting for an answer, but all she heard was the slight rustling of the trees overhead as they moved in the breeze.
"Can you see me, Papa? Can you hear me? If you can, then show me what to do. If marrying Mr. Thornton is truly the path forward, then please, give me a sign."
She waited, listening, hoping. She was not a superstitious person; her nature was too practical for fanciful imagination. But it did seem to her, as she stood silent and still in the gathering dusk, that she heard her name being called in the distance. She looked up sharply, wondering if her wish was conjuring some phantom into her mind, but then she realized it was not her imagination. Thornton's tall form came into view, approaching from around the corner of the church. She watched as he passed through the low stone wall that marked the boundary of the graveyard and made his way towards her. This time Margaret recognized his voice as he drew near. "Margaret!"
He reached her side and came to an abrupt stop, looking down at her intently. "Are you all right? I have been looking for you."
"How did you know where I would be?"
Thornton shook his head. "It does not matter. The important question is, are you well?"
"Yes, I am well. I simply needed to get away from – " she broke off hastily, realizing she could not complete what she had been about to say. She hoped he did not see the blush of embarrassment on her face.
"From what?" Thornton continued to watch her closely.
"It was getting late," Margaret improvised, nearly babbling in her nervousness. "I was planning to stay for dinner, but I remembered that there were things I needed to do at home, so I told your mother I could not stay and then – " She was horrified to hear tears in her voice. Quickly she turned away, attempting to conceal her distress.
It did not work. "Margaret," she heard Thornton say, and then she felt his hand on her arm, turning her back to face him. He gazed down at her for a moment before gently putting his arms around her and pulling her close.
Margaret was in shock. Tenderness was the last thing she had expected, and it proved her undoing. She stood stiff and unmoving at first, but then she buried her head against his chest as the tears came. She wept in his arms as the uncertainty and frustration of the past week came pouring out. Thornton said nothing. He merely continued to hold her in what she imagined to be a brotherly embrace, pulling her even closer to weep on his shoulder.
After long minutes Margaret's tears slowed, and she began to be aware of her position, with her head leaning against Thornton's strong chest, hearing his steady heartbeat in her ear. His arms were warm and comforting, reminding her how it felt to be consoled when she was a child. It had been so long since anyone had held her like this! She realized she would like nothing better than to stay nestled close, feeling cherished and protected, for a very long time.
But what had possessed her to behave in such a way? Would Thornton think she was taking advantage of him, using her tears to trick him into sympathy for her position? She pushed herself away from him, smiling in tearful embarrassment. "I appear to have ruined your jacket."
"My jacket is the least of my worries." He handed her a handkerchief from his pocket and she wiped her face as best she could. "Tell me what happened to make you leave Marlborough Mills so suddenly."
Margaret stared at him. "Did your mother not tell you?"
"I would prefer to hear this from you."
She gulped nervously. "I am afraid I became very angry with your mother today. She never canceled the order for the dress she wanted me to wear for the wedding. It was delivered to the house while I was there, and she asked me to try it on. I refused, and then I left without bothering to say goodbye."
"You left the house without saying goodbye?" Thornton's face was grave.
"Yes," Margaret admitted, embarrassed but determined to speak the truth.
"Is it true that you refused to even look at the dress, much less try it on?"
"Yes. I also told her that her lack of manners was offensive to me."
"Is there anything else?" His eyes probed hers.
"I am afraid that I may have closed the door behind me a little too firmly when I walked out," she admitted, wishing she could take her actions back.
To her surprise, Thornton's lips twisted upward in a small smile. "Margaret, you have my permission to step out of the room whenever my mother oversteps her authority."
"What? You cannot mean that!" She was genuinely shocked.
"My mother has been in charge of our household for years, and she helps me manage the mill besides. She is used to having her own way, and she is fiercely protective of those she loves. All of this gives her a tendency to sometimes run roughshod over the feelings of others, though she does not do so out of malice."
Margaret shook her head emphatically. "The fault was mine. I should have held my temper and not said anything to provoke her."
"The fault was my mother's," Thornton contradicted her. "She had no right to insist that you try on a dress you did not want to wear. I am glad that you did not give in."
"But I do not wish to be at odds with your mother!"
"A certain amount of conflict will be unavoidable, I think. You are both women of forceful convictions, apt to speak your mind and do what you think is right regardless of the consequences."
"She will never accept me as your wife."
Thornton shook his head. "I think you sell yourself short. There will be moments of conflict, of course, but I think you will also find things you have in common. Your own temperament and good character will do
the rest. In time you will win her over. And you will not be alone. I will support you in whatever way I can."
Margaret looked away, weighing her options. Until Thornton arrived she had felt as though she were drowning, overwhelmed by a flood of conflicting emotions. Now she was beginning to feel as though she might be able to breathe again.
"Do you hear me, Margaret?" Thornton moved closer, tilting his head as he tried to peer at her face under the brim of her hat in the dimming light. "You will not be alone in this marriage. I will help you in every way that I can. My mother is a formidable obstacle, but I believe we can face her together. You still need a home and some way to support yourself."
Still she looked down, unwilling to face him. Thornton waited patiently. "Do you still want to marry me? Let me know now if you do not. You promised to tell me the truth," he reminded her. "We can delay the wedding if you wish or find some other way altogether if this is too much for you."
Margaret made her decision. She wiped her face with Thornton's handkerchief one last time, brushing away the last of her tears, then lifted her chin and raised her shoulders. "I will not allow anyone to intimidate me," she answered steadily. "I will meet you in church in three days, if you are still willing."
Thornton smiled as he accepted the handkerchief, a slow steady smile that warmed Margaret from head to toe. Why had she never noticed before how very blue his eyes were, or how the corners of his mouth crinkled when he looked at her that way? She felt herself smile shyly at him in return.
He folded the cloth and replaced it in his pocket with care before offering her his arm. "In that case, let me take you home."
∞
Later that night, Thornton sat on the edge of his bed with the handkerchief in his hand. It still retained a faint scent of rosewater from when Margaret had held it against her face, and he held it to his nose and inhaled deeply. From now on he would always think of it as her handkerchief.
How sweet it had been to have Margaret in his arms for those minutes! He regretted the circumstances that drove her to him, but he could not bring himself to be entirely sorry that she had been in distress. For this marriage to work, even as a marriage of convenience, she would have to learn to trust him. He fancied that she had taken the first step in that direction this evening, by allowing herself to be comforted by him.