by EJourney
John was indeed impatient to be alone with Margaret and as soon as his mother was out of the room, he got up from his chair and pulled Margaret up from hers and into his arms, "All day, today, I have wanted to hold you in my arms but someone else was always around."
She gazed up at him with glistening eyes and a shy smile and snuggled in his arms, her head on his shoulders but he tenderly lifted her face up to his. "And I have been wanting to do this as well," he added, pressing his lips lightly on hers.
Holding Margaret in his arms at that moment, kissing her and knowing her love was his—after months of hopeless longing and believing he would never see her again—had an intoxicating effect on John and he began kissing her more deeply. He felt her tremble and go limp in his arms. She did not draw back, but placed her arms around his neck as if to support her flaccid body, and she responded with an artless ardor that thrilled him, that surprised him. She seemed neither afraid nor shy of her feelings. He kissed her more passionately until, breathless and trembling, she pulled back.
Taking his face in both her hands, she cried in a low quivering voice, "John!" She stared into his smoldering eyes and pleaded, "Stop, please."
He stared back at her as he steadied himself to regain his self-control, "I'm sorry, I got carried away."
She placed her fingers gently on his lips, "No don't be. I am not. I need to get accustomed to this; that is all." She caught her breath and resumed, still a little breathlessly, "I was surprised at how strong my own feelings were and how they seemed to just rush out of me."
"I understand. I did not mean to rush you into this," he replied in a voice still somewhat tremulous from the struggle to rein himself in.
He led her to the sofa and sat down next to her, enfolding her in his arms as she leaned back against him. "I had only intended to hold you like this. I wanted to hold you so many times today for so many reasons, sometimes merely because you are here."
With voice a little steadier but barely above a whisper, he continued, "This is all new to me, too, although not in the same way it is to you. Only two days ago, I would never have imagined us together like this. Much farther in my mind was the thought that you could express your feelings as strongly as you just did."
Margaret blushed, embarrassed and glad that John could not see her face, "Is that all right?"
"All right? Oh, my love!" He could say no more as he held her closer.
At length, she spoke again, somewhat shyly. "I really never knew what to expect, what it means to love, only that I am happier than I have ever been when I am with you. And being with you"—she paused, searching for words—"well, I am learning new things about myself." She turned towards him, laid her head on his shoulders, laced her arms around his neck and murmured, a hint of wonder in her voice, "And about you, too" she looked up at him for an instant.
He did not answer, merely held her closer, content to take pleasure in the warmth of her cheeks against his neck.
At length, Margaret sat up again and faced John. She had been curious about his trip to Helstone since that day at the train station when he told her that he had just come from there. She wanted to ascertain—out of her own vanity, she admitted to herself—if he went mainly on her account but she was also genuinely interested to know how he found Helstone.
"Did you go to Helstone because you had business there?" Margaret knew that to be implausible but she thought it as good a way as any to start her inquiry.
"Well, it is not inconceivable that the south could be an untapped source for investors. But no, I had a more selfish reason for going. When I found out about your brother, I had this restless desire to do something. At the very least, I wanted to understand you better, to know what it was that made you who you are. You had seen my world but I had not really seen yours. Maybe, I thought Helstone would tell me more about you and that in being there, I would learn how to make you love me."
This was precisely what Margaret wanted to hear. She smiled broadly but could not resist the temptation to tease him. "Did you think it very dull?"
"No, not at all. It was as I had expected—green and lush, fresh, mild, and sunny. I came across many grassy paths that seemed inviting, saw wild flowers to pluck and smell, and big shady trees to loll under." He paused, frowning. "I heard birds chirping all the time but I did not see too many people walking about."
She remarked with a laugh, "In other words, it was tranquil and dull."
"Well, perhaps," he conceded. "But it is a charming place and there is beauty in that tranquility that cannot but draw you in. I can see why you were so attached to the place."
"And I still am although coming to Milton did change what I thought of Helstone. I was happy there, in a certain fashion, I suppose. But I have found happiness here as well, more deeply felt, certainly, more satisfying."
It was his turn to smile broadly, and to tease her. "Then you will stay?"
She nodded, smiled beguilingly, and answered flippantly, "Do I really have a choice after my shameless behavior at the train station?" Then, she continued more seriously. "Helstone is not a perfect place although I did use to think it the best place on earth. I will always be very fond of it because I spent some of my happiest days there. I went back once after returning to London and realized that I could not go back to the way it was when I lived there. I clearly saw during that visit that the seductive simplicity of life in Helstone also has a downside. I found it a problem that so many people there think only in terms of black and white or are happy to be ignorant and to keep those around them so."
"Those are not light indictments. And was it really living in Milton that brought on this change in how you see Helstone?"
"Life here is harsher, more complicated and requires more out of you. But such is life, I suppose. If you can live here and thrive, would that not be a greater accomplishment than thriving in a place like Helstone? Would you not be stronger in spirit?"
"You do need to make many comprises to live here and that is a complicated matter. Dealing with workers' strikes proves that every time. But this city and all others like it also attract countless vultures and opportunists interested only in becoming rich and staying that way, no matter the costs. To them, life is also just black and white."
"I am aware that I should not think of this place as having the virtues Helstone does not. And Milton lacks the beauty and serenity that can soothe tired and wounded spirits."
He grinned, teasing her once more. "You have me."
"Yes. I have you." She smiled radiantly, her eyes misty and shining as she nestled back in his arms.
IV. Remembrances
John lay awake remembering that evening, a delicious tingle coursing through his whole being. He could still feel Margaret in his arms, her hands warm on his cheeks, her mouth velvety and moist against his, and he could hear her voice tremulous with emotion. Every moment they had been together only convinced him more of Margaret's feelings for him and of how her love was, indeed, thoroughly his. He had needed that reassurance after nearly two years of uncertainty and hopelessness. This evening, he had also seen not only how strong her sentiments were but also that Margaret was not one to hold back on them. He caught his breath as he recollected how ardently she responded to his kisses, if only for a few moments. He knew that she would love faithfully, tenderly, deeply but he never imagined her expressing her feelings passionately.
He got up and paced his room for some minutes, as he had done only a few nights ago when, in contrast to tonight, he had been despondent. This evening, he was restless with anticipation. He and Margaret must visit Nicholas Higgins, he thought. He, at least, owed Higgins gratitude for having told him about her brother, a revelation that helped break down all the barriers he had imposed on himself and kept him away from Margaret.
While John had his own reasons for going to see Higgins, he could only guess the extent of Margaret's acquaintance with him. He knew of her friendship with Higgins's hapless older daughter who had died from a disease common
among children working in cotton mills and he understood that the relationship had been close. He recalled the day he first proposed to Margaret and the sorrow he saw in her eyes when she told him that her friend Bessy was dying. Bitterly stung just moments before by Margaret's disclosure that she never liked him, he was incapable of seeing, much less of sympathizing with her grief. Instead, angry and hurt, he had retorted with insolence that, of course, she blamed him as well for her friend's plight. And yet, even in his bitterness at her blunt rejection, he could not resent her, much less hate her.
He thought that her rejection should have cooled his passion but it had not and, if anything, he came away from that encounter loving her more. It was only later—after the many times he reflected on his unfortunate proposal—that he understood that she reacted precisely as her mind and heart dictated. He had expected her to accept and be grateful for his proposal. His mother had convinced him of it, certain that Margaret had bared her feelings to everyone when she intervened to protect him from the rioters. Any young woman, who would show her feelings in such a manner, knew that she was risking her reputation; at the same time, however, she was most likely calculating that the risk was worth the proposal that was certain to follow, if the man were honorable.
But Margaret was not like most other young women and her independence of mind demanded that she be regarded and accepted not on society's terms but on her own. She made it clear that her actions at the riot had been misconstrued and she would have done what she did for any man. The assumption that her reputation needed rescuing and the notion that she would accept a proposal just because it came from a rich man offended her deeply. Margaret was not one to be swayed by what society thought desirable or advantageous for her. How, then, could he help loving her more—she who would marry only for love? The idea of being loved by such a woman as Margaret excited him and held the promise of happiness he had yet to know.
John winced at the recollection of how she asserted that she did not like him. Yet, now that the wondrous unfolding of a life with her lay before him, it was only natural that he would excuse her in his mind as he never before had done. He had long admitted to himself that, concerned only about his own feelings, he had addressed her rather insolently when he first proposed. But she did not really know him at the time, a fact she had since admitted even to his mother. His deep love for her had been as alien in her experience as it had been new for him. She had not understood that he wanted to marry her for no other reason than that he loved her. Again, he believed himself at fault. In his inexperience addressing the woman he felt he could not live without, he had been awkward and, worse, he had been arrogant and disdainful.
The three years since they first met had wrought changes in both of them, changes prompted by losses that, for Margaret, were unfortunate and permanent. He was luckier; his loss proved temporary. For him, the biggest change, in fact, involved the arrival of Margaret into his life. Though she brought him torment at first, now that she was back in his life to stay, he tingled all over again imagining the days to come and the moments of bliss that he had had a glimpse of that very evening. Perhaps, those three years had not been for naught. He and Margaret had both emerged from them in a way that could only make their togetherness sweeter, more precious.
**************
On her third day at the Thornton house, John asked Margaret when they were alone at breakfast whether she would like to visit Nicholas Higgins and his family in the Princeton district. Margaret readily agreed, eager to renew her friendship with Nicholas Higgins and his daughter Mary and anxious to know how the Boucher children were doing. After the children's parents died, she had taken greater pains to help them, bringing food more often and spending time to teach them how to read. It gratified her that six-year old Thomas had taken the lessons seriously, reading everything in sight and devoting hours to the books she gave him.
John and Margaret went in the afternoon on their way to the park. They brought a big basket of bread, cheese, meats and fruit for the children and remembering the desolate poverty he had seen when he first visited Nicholas to offer him a job, John requested Williams to order loaves of bread and cheese to give to families of his former workers who lived in the area. Mrs. Thornton disapproved of what she thought was her son's misguided generosity, without a doubt, influenced by Margaret. But on being told about it, she merely gritted her teeth and walled away without a word. Margaret privately rejoiced at John's act of kindness. Many times while Mrs. Hale was ill, she had been a recipient of that kindness when John had sent her baskets of the freshest fruit that Milton offered.
The walk that John had taken through the district the day he offered Nicholas Higgins work had shown him something he had not dared look closely at before. He saw what Margaret saw—the hunger, the quiet despair written even on the faces of children who, at least, did not yet recoil from a little act of kindness nor withdraw, hopeless and resentful, as the adults had. It was the faces of the children that he would always remember from that visit, not only of those on the street but also those of Boucher's children. He began to appreciate what he had initially thought of as Margaret's misplaced charity. Still, he disagreed with her reasoning. The charity was not a question of logic, as she claimed, but better yet, of humanity. Could she, perhaps, have appealed to logic because she might have thought that he would not have responded to an argument for the necessity of being humane? Once again, he resolved to show her that his views about those less fortunate than him had indeed undergone and was still undergoing a change.
**************
Nicholas opened the door at their knock and when he saw Margaret and John, his mouth fell open and his eyes grew bright and moist. For a few moments, he stared speechless at them—happier, more at peace than he had ever seen them and now smiling warmly at him. Mary, who had stopped what she was doing when she heard the knock, ran towards the door when she saw Margaret and almost collided into her. Margaret held out her arms to prevent Mary from falling before embracing her fondly. "You look well Mary."
Mary put her arms around Margaret and cried, "Oh, miss………!" Mary, who had never been one for words, could not say anymore and she turned away, placing her hands on her face, ashamed of how she reacted.
"Miss Hale, you bring tears to my eyes!" Nicholas blurted out finally, a big grin lighting up his face. He glanced at John who smiled broadly back at him, "Come in, come in, master. Miss Hale, I knew you would never forget a friend," he said swiftly swiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
Margaret reached out and grasped his hand with both of hers. She held his hand for a long moment and in that moment, memories of all that they had been through rushed back to darken her eyes with sadness. "It has been sometime, has it not?"
"Yes, but not too long," he replied, too happy with the unexpected visit to notice her sadness. With a slight motion of his head towards John who was then handing Mary the basket he was carrying, he added, "And I did not believe what master here said that we will never see you again."
John heard his remark and approached them with a wide grin. He shook his hand vigorously, with gratitude in his eyes that Nicholas acknowledged wordlessly, nodding and grinning as widely.
"I am heartily glad that I was wrong," John said with a loving glance at Margaret who beamed back at him.
Margaret turned to Nicholas. "How have you been Nicholas? How are the children?"
Nicholas sighed. "We are doing as well as can be expected but sometimes I feel I am too old to deal with six young children."
Margaret touched his arm sympathetically. "Can we help?"
"The mills did not want to hire me at first but Hamper reluctantly gave me work because they were short on men of my skills and orders were coming in that used to go to Marlborough Mills." He glanced at John before adding. "So I can put food on the table but it has not been easy with the little ones often missing and asking for their mother."
"I am so sorry." Margaret said helplessly. "It is hard to lose paren
ts, unspeakably so when children are this young."
"Yes and there is nothing anyone can do about it." He shrugged, uncomfortable about having attention focused on his troubles. In a lighter tone, he shifted the conversation back to his surprise visitors. "You two are a sight for sore eyes."
John smiled gratefully at Nicholas once again. "I want you and Mary to come to our wedding. You helped make this all possible and we will forever remember it."
Nicholas frowned. "I am happy that I helped but how did I do that?"
"Do you recall the day the mill closed when you told me about Margaret's brother?"
"Why yes. I saw clearly how you felt about Miss Margaret but I could tell something was bothering you and making you miserable. I suspected it was all that malicious gossip about Miss Hale and that mysterious man."
"Well, that was it," John answered a little self-consciously. The direct rather simple manner with which Nicholas recalled that encounter and his astuteness at having seen through him at the time made John feel how foolish his jealousy had been. "And here we both are," he added, putting his arm around Margaret's shoulders and gazing at her for a long intimate moment.
Nicholas shifted his eyes from one to the other with a mixture of some discomfort at their frank display of affection and a feeling of satisfaction at his role in bringing the union of two people he liked and admired. "Miss Margaret never let on how she felt but it was clear to me that she admired you. Why, she sided with you many times, instead of me, about the strike!"
John threw Margaret a surprised glance. She laughed, a little embarrassed. "Oh, Nicholas! Nothing escaped you, it seems."
"It is not often I see two people who seemed made for each other but who could not come together even when they are miserable without each other. I thought I would help matters along." He grinned mischievously and with obvious self-satisfaction.