Margaret of the North

by EJourney

  As the two of them were working at the same table, Margaret asked, "Are you interested in learning to read and write, Annie?"

  "I would like to, ma'am, but I have no time and even if I did, there is no one to teach me."

  "But would you take the time after work if there is someone who can teach you?"

  "After work, I have to make dinner and clean up. I am the oldest and my mother is too sick to take care of my brothers and sisters. My younger sisters help but they are too young yet and get more tired than me after working in the mills."

  "I see."

  A little later, Margaret continued, "How about your brothers and sisters? Would any of them like to learn?"

  "I don't know, ma'am. The youngest one is curious like me and she may want to, if there is someone to teach her."

  Margaret nodded her head and said no more.

  **************

  When the dining hall was finished a few days later, Margaret could no longer delay making good on her promise to Mrs. Thornton. She accompanied the older woman as she discharged her daily chores—meeting with the household staff, dealing with unforeseen events that often happened during the day, scheduling, instructing, and following up on completed tasks. For the most part, Margaret observed, nodded, and said little. After a week of what, in her mind, was an apprenticeship in the job of running this particular household, she took over Mrs. Thornton's former duties. They were now properly hers forever. It was, as she had surmised, a fairly uncomplicated process. The staff knew what they needed to do and Dixon, more experienced and more resourceful than any of the other servants, made decisions in most unanticipated matters without bothering her mistress.

  Margaret had run the household without the morning meetings before Mrs. Thornton returned. She did not feel she really needed them but she decided to continue the practice, first, as part of the routine that the servants were used to and, second, as a way to show Mrs. Thornton that she was doing what was expected of her. The conduct of these meetings did inevitably change, however. With the young Mrs. Thornton's lively open manner and readiness to praise their work, the servants were more relaxed and found the meetings more pleasant. After the daily chores were dealt with, she often asked how they were doing otherwise. If someone needed to talk about some special problem, whether related or not to their work, that person generally found Mrs. Margaret an attentive listener, offering help whenever she could.

  XIV. Reopening

  Marlborough Mills reopened for full operation on a dry but dreary day in October a little earlier than John had anticipated. He had originally set a date that was timed to take advantage of the coming holidays when orders were certain to increase but he had accepted an order that needed to be completed by a certain date. After estimating what needed to be done to fill the order, he thought it best to give the mill a few days leeway before it came due.

  Weeks before, various workers came to prepare the mill for this day: sweeping it of dust and cobwebs, cleaning, oiling, testing, and, when necessary, repairing machines. A couple of days before, a small crew led by Nicholas Higgins retested and readjusted the machinery to ensure that, for at least the early weeks of operation, production would be efficient and uneventful. Another crew came just the day before to bring out bales of cotton from the warehouse that they piled on the platform, ready for the spinning and weaving machines.

  Not all hands had been hired but John was confident that it would not take long before they were. He hoped gossip passed among workers that the mill had made changes to improve working conditions would help attract more workers. Most of those already hired were former mill hands who had signed a petition with Nicholas Higgins declaring their desire to return to the mill when Mr. Thornton brought it back into operation. Talk had circulated among cotton mill workers that Mr. Thornton was continuing to make changes in how he ran the mill and that he was open to ideas from workers, a radical step that most workers were skeptical of.

  Despite assurances from Nicholas Higgins that the master was sincere in his intent, distrust of the masters was of such long standing that workers were usually not persuaded by mere intent. They waited until it was translated into reality, something that only time could show them, even in the case of this particular master who had already instituted more modern machines and better working conditions than most mill owners. Still, if it came down to choosing to work for this mill or another, Marlborough Mills was an easy choice for many for its better working conditions. A few who might have wavered were swayed by the new white dining hall in the back of the mill where they heard good cheap hot mills could be had.

  By the time John placed an announcement in the newspaper three days before the mill reopened, he had already notified all his business colleagues and contacted all of his former customers, visiting them personally whenever he could. A good number of these customers placed orders. John hoped more of them would give him back their business once they saw the mill filling orders as promised. He expected some to return if only because of seasonal high demand when merchant orders for Christmas often exceeded the combined level of production at all the existing mills.

  **************

  On the day the mill opened, John woke up much earlier than he had done of late and bounded out of bed so abruptly that he woke Margaret up. He turned to give her a perfunctory kiss and announced, "This is the day!"

  Without waiting for an answer, he hurried to change. He returned to the bedroom to see if Margaret was ready to go down to breakfast but he was surprised to find a tray of tea, toast, sausages and fruit waiting for him. "I asked Dixon to prepare breakfast early for you."

  He smiled his thanks and sat down. But he was too restless for his usual breakfast, distractedly sipping the tea she handed him, nibbling on the toast she had buttered for him, and consuming in a few quick bites the sausages that he, at first, refused but which she insisted he must eat. Attuned to all her husband's moods and expressions of the past months, Margaret now contended with that side of him she had known when they first met but that had hardly been in evidence in their few months of marriage. She knew he was anxious that the day should pass without a hitch and he was clearly energized for it. His eyes shone fiercely with purpose and anticipation as if he was poised for a fight, his lips were compressed, the muscles in his cheeks taut and tense, and his brow wore a frown of intense concentration. So focused was he on his work for that day that Margaret doubted he heard anything she said while he ate breakfast.

  He got up as soon as he finished his tea and gave her a hasty buss on the forehead. "I have to go."

  "I know. I will come down with you."

  He nodded absentmindedly and she followed him as he walked briskly out the door, down the steps, and out to the vestibule that served as entrance to the house. She moved just as briskly behind him but John seemed to have forgotten she was there. He was about to bolt down the steps when he felt a restraining hand on his arm. He stopped and turned towards his wife. Before he could even blink, she enclosed him in a tight embrace, gave him a long loving kiss, and murmured a solemn "Good luck, my love."

  He gazed at her for a long minute, silent, his mind already rehearsing his first tasks of the day. But his bright eyes had softened with gratitude and he walked down the steps more calmly. He turned around at the foot of the stairs, paused and smiled at her. Then, he headed towards the mill in quick, determined strides. She muttered a prayer as she watched him disappear into the mill.

  With some trepidation, Margaret walked slowly and thoughtfully back into the house. She caught sight of Mrs. Thornton standing by the large window in the drawing room and went to join her there. Mrs. Thornton glanced briefly at her and turned her attention back to the courtyard. "Well, this is the day! I did not see John at breakfast. I know he is too excited to eat but you should have insisted on him having something. He will need it."

  "Dixon brought him a full breakfast in the bedroom." Margaret replied simply.

  "I see." Mrs. Thornton regarded he
r for an instant or two and turned back towards the window. "The workers have started to trickle in." She seemed as agitated as John but more subdued and more apprehensive.

  Margaret looked down at the courtyard. The bustle in the mill yard was increasing steadily. It had been empty when John walked across it just a few minutes earlier but since then, Williams had arrived and opened the gate fully. Workers poured through the gate, talking, sometimes laughing, reaching their hands out to people they had worked with in the past. The mill yard, forlorn for the last six months, soon took on the air of a country fair without the hawkers and street entertainers, its festive ambiance supplied by a mood of easy camaraderie among those who had previously worked at the mill and were returning, thankfully, if not gladly, to a familiar place. Eventually, everyone seemed infected by it, chatting easily with those standing next to them as they waited for the mill doors to open.

  Mrs. Thornton was exhilarated by the scene on the ground and she felt as if the desolation that gripped the mill—when it had to close for want of funds—never happened. She stole a glance at Margaret whom she fancied equally absorbed by all that was going on. Mrs. Thornton turned towards the window once again. Although it seemed her eyes neither blinked nor strayed away from the activity in the courtyard, her senses were focused on listening intently and impatiently for the sounds that would announce, for certain, that the mill was indeed running. She did not have to wait long.

  As the workers disappeared into the mill, one machine began to hum and, like a fugue, another followed right on top of it—then another and still another—until all the machines seemed to drown everything else out with their deep resonant humming, metallic clapping and clanging, and low steady whirring. This was all music to Mrs. Thornton's ears, surrounding her completely, penetrating her flesh the way music took hold of a musician completely absorbed in his instrument. She listened, exulting in the familiar sounds that used to announce the beginning of a good day for her son and that now assured her everything was back to the way it should be. She was thus absorbed for nearly half an hour until the whirring and clanging became regular and repetitive and only then did she remember that Margaret stood next to her.

  Margaret had, in fact, left for a while and had just rejoined her to see whether anything new had happened. For the first time since their acquaintance, Mrs. Thornton was overcome with heartfelt gratitude towards the woman her son had married. She was acutely aware that the bustle in the mill would not have taken place so soon without Margaret. Mrs. Thornton was confident John would have eventually recovered from the loss of Marlborough Mills and regained his standing in the business world. But it would have taken much longer—perhaps, many years—and certainly, much more effort. He would also have needed the humility and patience to work for someone else until he had sufficient capital. To Mrs. Thornton, it was not entirely inconceivable that struggling all over again could have subdued his spirit or, at least, seen him too old to fully triumph in succeeding once again. Margaret spared him all that and now, Mrs. Thornton rejoiced that John had finally gotten what he deserved, what he worked for single-mindedly and tenaciously in his youth. She murmured a prayer of thankfulness.

  Margaret was no less exhilarated than Mrs. Thornton was when she heard the machines start up. She was happy for John, happy for all the people who found work when the mill reopened and, yes, she was happy for Mrs. Thornton whose life had revolved around one mill or another but particularly this one. This mill meant the most to Mrs. Thornton and she could claim, rightly, that John's success was her success as well. After all, she had invested much sweat, energy, even heartache as she endured humiliating economies to bring success and prosperity to her son. Margaret stood by the window and glanced at Mrs. Thornton who seemed lost to everything but the activity and the sounds that, once more, had taken over the mill.

  Margaret left without a word a second time to talk to Dixon about that day's tasks. She returned to join Mrs. Thornton. This time, the older woman turned towards her and Margaret was struck by how her eyes glistened the way her husband's did, her lips in a tremulous smile. Was it gratitude that suffused her countenance? Margaret had never seen Mrs. Thornton regard her with such warmth and while it bewildered her at first, her naturally affectionate heart could not remain immune. She smiled back at Mrs. Thornton warmly, sincerely, gratefully. The two women were conscious, as they smiled at each other that, for the first time, they shared the same sentiments and views of the events playing out in the huge stone building in front of them. Finally, it seemed they found something to agree on and they both wanted to relish those moments. Back of their minds, they both feared that, between the two of them, such moments could be rare and fleeting.

  They went back to the window at various times during the day, alone or together, to look down at the bustle. Nothing much was said between them and nothing new or extraordinary actually happened in the courtyard. Most of the work was being done inside the mill. But the lively activity, in all its boring repetitiveness, was utter happiness in Mrs. Thornton's reckoning: It signified life, in contrast to the deathly nothingness and silence of the nonfunctioning mill. She inevitably took more pleasure in all the sights and sounds of the bustling mill than Margaret.

  Margaret eventually felt the need to get away from the noise. John had told her not to expect him back until the evening and after a light lunch with Mrs. Thornton, she went out for a walk with Mary. When they returned more than an hour later, Margaret looked up from the yard below and sure enough, Mrs. Thornton stood by the window, as she had done all those past years—an austere dark figure, still and hawk-like, ready to defend all that belonged to her. What a formidable woman, Margaret thought with a mixture of admiration and uneasiness, fiercer even than her son in her fervor for the mill.

  **************

  Mrs. Thornton soon resumed her former routine of visiting the mill to see that the work proceeded efficiently. One morning as she prepared to leave right after breakfast, Margaret walked in, dressed to go out. "You are going to the mill, aren't you? Would you mind if I came with you today?"

  Uncertain at first what to make of this request Mrs. Thornton eyed her briefly and then agreed, "Of course, you can come. You have married into this family so you should know something about the business John spends a significant part of his day on."

  They walked together without a word towards the mill. The door banged shut as they both stepped inside. What little chatter could be heard over the din of the machines slowly diminished as the workers began to be aware that it was the mother and the wife of the master who just came in.

  Margaret was incredulous to realize this was only her second time inside the mill while it was running, her first time being that fateful day in Milton years ago when she first saw John in an unfortunate incident with a worker. That time, she was a newly-arrived stranger—a foreigner as Higgins once spat out at her—and she had opened a door to a world she never knew existed, one that filled her with a sense of both wonder and bewilderment. This time as John's wife and co-owner, the wonder and bewilderment were no less intense.

  She scanned the atmosphere swirling around her, rendered virtually white by countless specks of floating cotton. This must be what it was like to drift among the clouds, she thought. Strange and ethereal and yet, she reminded herself, they were still only bits of cotton spewing out of machines. She strove to comprehend what it meant to her. She knew what it meant to John, to Mrs. Thornton, and to all these people stepping back and forth in rhythmic unison and appearing, in the process, as if they were extensions of the spinning and weaving machines. This world was now a part of hers as well, not only because it was John's work. It inundated her daily life with noise, smoke, cotton fuzz, and the never-ending frenzy of people busy with creating this world.

  When she first entered the mill years ago, her sense of wonder had abruptly ended as she bore witness to a brutal scene in which John chased a worker and beat him up for smoking. The violence outraged her and the white world she
was introduced to just minutes before oppressed her so unbearably that, if she could, she would have run back to Helstone. Later, she understood that John was enraged by the violation of a rule meant to prevent fire, a very real threat that already killed hundreds in mills. This time, she did not expect anything eventful and she looked up at the perch where she had first seen John. He was not there and in his place, stood Williams. John had not known they were coming. Margaret could not suppress her disappointment at not seeing him up there as she imagined him casually sweeping his eyes across the mill floor, calmer than that first time, even smiling with pleasure at their visit.

  The workers were used to having Mrs. Thornton come but they could not often predict the day and time she would be there. They were never really happy to see her: With her sharp perception, she easily spotted and called to task anyone who she thought was slacking off. Her mere presence reminded them of their tenuous hold on their work and they assumed an earnest concentration in their work whenever she was around. With a wary eye on Mrs. Thornton, they nevertheless stole frequent glances at the young Mrs. Thornton, walking behind the older woman.

  The young Mrs. Thornton had a half-smile on her lips and her large blue eyes, profoundly curious, looked directly at whoever she caught staring at her before she nodded almost imperceptibly and smiled, her lips barely curved up at the corners. Most of them, however, stole glances as discreetly as they could, acutely conscious that the older woman would pounce on them if their attention strayed away from their work. Many of them knew Margaret by sight. They had heard from some of the women about the work she did decorating the dining hall. But they dared not make obvious their curiosity about the master's young wife, not with his mother around. Some who did briefly catch Margaret's eye were gratified to see her respond and thought they saw encouragement in her expressive bright eyes.