Margaret of the North

by EJourney

  Still, it took long hours of struggle with her own distress and chagrin for Margaret to accept what she had suspected: That in relinquishing duties to her son's wife—ordinary tasks, discharged daily without much thought—Mrs. Thornton lost her raison d'être, the concerns that gave her life purpose. Those ordinary tasks, in their entirety, had defined Mrs. Thornton's daily existence. When Margaret understood Mrs. Thornton's resentment, she also saw how profoundly depressing it would be for someone, as fierce as Mrs. Thornton was about her interests, to lose her focus. At that point, Margaret felt sad and sorry for Mrs. Thornton and she resolved to overlook the irritations brought on by their daily interactions.

  Margaret kept an eye on John closely but discreetly, regretting having revealed so much of her own thoughts. After her last outburst when she lamented Mrs. Thornton's indifference towards Elise, Margaret decided she would not bother John anymore about problems between herself and Mrs. Thornton. He needed to focus on the mill. Some of those problems were uniquely hers and nobody else's, the recent ones, for instance, when she had to confront the reality that she occasionally still mourned for her parents and lamented the chance that could never be of their knowing her daughter and of Elise never basking in the warmth of their caring.

  At length, Margaret said sympathetically, "I am sorry if what I said makes what you have to do more complicated."

  He glanced at her and smiled distractedly. Margaret got up. She would leave him undisturbed to mull over this new dilemma. With a gentle brush of the back of her hand against his cheek, she walked past him towards the bedroom.

  **************

  Margaret went to bed feeling sad: For Mrs. Thornton, because she would surely be devastated by being cut off from the mill; and for John, because what he had to do would cause him heartbreak. For herself, her sadness stemmed from remorse that her own happiness had meant someone else's sorrow. Margaret lay still, biting her lips, unable to hold back her tears. It perturbed her that John was not there, lying calmly next to her. But she was also exhausted, no less from the tension of the last few hours than from the hectic pace of her daily routine. Exhaustion took over, coaxing her tense muscles into immobility and her mind into quiescence.

  It was a fitful shallow slumber she fell into, disturbed by dreams of a child she could not see, sobbing inconsolably. She searched for the child but in vain and she started to cry in anguish at her futile attempts while the child continued to sob. Still disoriented from her dream, she struggled to wake herself. She bolted upright, panting for breath, shivering at the darkness around her, ominous in its stillness and silence. She looked through the door to the sitting room, wondering if John was still sitting by the fireplace. The lamps there had been extinguished and the fire had died down. She reached out her hand to his side of the bed and felt him grasp it as he pulled her gently into his arms.

  He kissed her face and held her close. "You are shivering. Were you having a nightmare my love?"

  "Just hold me." She implored, her face against his neck.

  In the morning, John woke up to find Margaret already nursing Elise. He had decided, the past night, to try Margaret's suggestion to talk to Nicholas Higgins frankly and tell him that talking to his mother was more complicated than it might appear on the surface. It would buy him the time he needed to reflect, figure out his own wishes, and arrive at the right decision. He also conjured up some excuse the night before to keep his mother at home but as it turned out, Margaret prevented any need for him to use it. At breakfast, Margaret brought up the topic of a dinner party that they had intended to give to meet their new neighbors. She asked Mrs. Thornton for her help and the two agreed to discuss it further in the drawing room later that morning.

  When he gave his wife his usual parting kiss before he left for the mill, John drew her close and whispered, "Thank, you my love. You are a treasure. Wait for me in our sitting room this evening?"

  **************

  During lunch break at the mill dining hall, John sought Nicholas Higgins and asked him to come to the office one hour before closing time.

  Nicholas was prompt. "Good evening, master. You had something worrisome in your mind you wanted to talk about."

  "Was it that obvious?"

  Nicholas smiled and then became serious. "Is it the matter regarding Mrs. Thornton? Your mother, I mean." He explained, smiling once again, "Everyone around here calls your wife Mrs. Margaret. It shows they like her. That is what I think, anyway."

  "Yes, about my mother, Mrs. Thornton. Please take a seat." He leaned back against his chair, frowning. "It is a rather delicate matter, if you must know."

  "I do know and I understand your problem more than you think I do. I am sorry to force you to make a hard decision but I must take workers concerns seriously and get them resolved in their favor as well as I could."

  "Of course. But realize that, as master, my position with respect to those concerns may often be opposite to yours. My mother helped me start this mill and across the years, she has made many suggestions that make the mill work as well as it does. This has been her life as much as mine."

  "That is common knowledge and I have explained to the workers the difficulty it poses but the truth is it is not their concern."

  "No. But it is mine and I cannot ignore it."

  "I have looked into this problem closely. I found that all the children are afraid of her and most of the workers are nervous when she is around. Her presence alone reminds them that they could lose their jobs on the spot if she thought they were not always hard at work. You know the danger in these machines. You need a steady hand with them."

  John nodded thoughtfully, "How about you? Does my mother intimidate you ?"

  Nicholas smiled and shrugged, "I admit that she does, in general. Your mother has a presence that cannot be ignored but she does not affect my work. Still, I admit that I prefer she does not come."

  "Yes?"

  "Let me put it this way. Some workers are clever enough to see that she is not a master or an overseer and has no business being around, telling them what to do, even if she knew what she was doing."

  John nodded and Nicholas went on to push his argument further. "What we are asking will not cost you money. No new machinery. No higher wages. Your decision in our favor will show goodwill and will earn you the workers' trust. In turn, they are more likely to stay in the mill longer, and even work harder. You understand very well the consequence of working a few minutes beyond time in order to finish a job."

  John regarded Nicholas for a long moment when he finished and then, a scowl slowly etching his brow, he turned to stare thoughtfully out the window. Nicholas sat, quietly waiting. After a few minutes of reflection, John said, "You have argued your position well but I do need time to decide what to do. Could you tell the workers that? They will probably see my mother back but until I make an announcement, nothing is settled."

  "I will tell them to be patient. I know that you know that if you did nothing at all, we cannot and will not retaliate. All we can do is hope for a favorable decision."

  "I am indeed aware of that and I want to do what is right but I need time to think things through. For now, I do need to go because my wife is waiting for me." John rose from his chair.

  The expression on Nicholas face changed from serious to smiling. "How is Mrs. Margaret? I do not see Mary much anymore, now that she helps take care of your daughter. She used to tell me of the goings-on in your house."

  John smiled brightly at him, "Why don't you come by sometime? Elise is growing up fast."

  The two of them walked out of the office talking animatedly, settling back into their friendship, leaving their master and worker personas in the office.

  **************

  John, carrying a bouquet of roses, found Margaret alone on the sofa and reading a book when he entered their sitting room. Margaret smiled broadly at him as she closed her book and laid it on the side table. "Roses! What is the special occasion?"

  He handed he
r the bouquet with a lingering kiss. "I do not need a special occasion to show my wife how deeply and passionately I love her."

  He smiled engagingly and sat down next to her. "The little one must be in bed for the night."

  "Yes. She began to crawl today and tired herself out showing off to everyone in the house."

  "Another little accomplishment that I missed."

  "Let me just put these flowers in a vase and I will be back in a minute. I want these roses to last as long as possible." She rose to get a vase and some water.

  She set the vase on the table in front of them and sat next to him, "We have been spending most afternoons in the conservatory and we were there again today."

  "That must be a pleasant place now that fall is almost here."

  "Quite. We often lay a rug on the floor and sit Elise on a cushion on the rug where she is often content to play with her toys. Today as I was doing a sketch of her and Mary sitting on a chair behind her, Elise started to crawl. It seems she wanted to come towards me at the other end of the room. She fell a few times but kept trying until she reached me. When she did, I picked her up, hugged her, and showered her with kisses. She squealed so loudly with delight that it brought the servants into the conservatory to see what was going on. She started clapping her hands at seeing so many of us all around her at once. After a while, she squirmed to be put down. She spent most of her afternoon crawling between Mary and me, expecting to be picked up and hugged at each end. The servants watched and clapped every time she reached one end until Dixon came to remind the servants of the work they had to finish."

  "I am sorry to have missed all the fun."

  "You'll undoubtedly see her try it this weekend. Also, I did a few sketches of her attempt. I could show them to you some time, if you want."

  John grinned, "Yes, this weekend would be good. I do have that to look forward to." A little more seriously, he placed a hand on her chin and lifted her face towards his, "Since that day you came home with me, you have never been far from my thoughts, when I am at the mill. Well, to be truthful, you have occupied a permanent place in my thoughts and my heart since I fell in love with you. Now, you have given me Elise, too, and I have you both to keep me company at work."

  She blushed as she smiled with pleasure. "But I could not have had her without you!" Margaret leaned her head on his shoulders and wound her arms around his chest. He clasped her closer.

  "Why, yes! How could I have forgotten that?" He laughed, in self-mockery, and added, playfully, "What if I told you that, in fact, I remember the exact day and time?"

  She raised her head, amused, doubting, and then, uncertain, "You jest!"

  He laughed louder, gave her a peck on the nose and said nothing. She examined the expression on his face but he merely stared back at her, his eyes glowing with subdued laughter. He remained silent and finally convinced that he could not be budged, she laid her face against his neck. They said no more, content merely to hold each other.

  Later, she asked, her voice muffled against his neck, "How did your day go?"

  "I talked to Nicholas this afternoon." He replied in a low voice.

  She raised her head, alert and attentive, "About Hannah?"

  "Yes. I told him I needed time to make a decision and he said he will explain to the workers that they may yet see my mother for some time."

  "Are you inclined to decide in their favor?"

  "Nicholas argued their position rather convincingly. I really do not know. I was hoping that talking with you would help."

  "Frankly, I do not believe I can give you advice. I can tell you what I think and, perhaps, another viewpoint might help make things clearer."

  "You did advise me to talk to Nicholas. It may not have brought me closer to a decision but it helped."

  "Can you talk to your mother as well?"

  "But what will I say to her? He paused thoughtfully and Margaret waited in silence. John continued, regret evident in his voice. "My mother and I have grown apart. I used to talk with her the way I do with you now. But since I met you, I began to see many things differently and by the time you left for London, I was talking to her less and keeping my thoughts to myself. When you came back, it became clearer to me that my mother and I had lost much of the ease we used to have with each other."

  Margaret was at a loss about what to say, her eyes cast down. This confession brought back the sadness, helplessness, and the culpability she felt about Mrs. Thornton.

  John continued solemnly, "The mill seems to be all we talk about now but even in that, we have avoided anything that has to do with new things I have done that she thinks are useless."

  Margaret looked up. "You mean those that do not seem directly related to working conditions like the dining hall and the regular meetings with worker representatives?"

  "Yes. So how can I tell her now that I am inclined to side with them against her?"

  Margaret smiled sympathetically and then, in a hopeful voice, suggested, "What if you argued that doing so is necessary for the efficient running of the mill? I recollect my father telling me that your mother told him the mill is everything and, to him, it meant that she was ready to endure anything for its sake."

  "She would appreciate that reasoning." He hesitated, "But if it comes across that her presence at the mill is bad for its efficient operation—no, I cannot hurt her in that way."

  "Yes, I see. You are right." They sat, silent and thoughtful, until it was time to go down to dinner.

  **************

  Back in their bedroom after dinner, Margaret sat in front of her dresser, brushing her hair and mulling over the matter that had lately dominated their conversations. When John came in from his bath, she addressed his reflection on the mirror. "Perhaps, it is best to be honest. My father used to say it was the only way to deal with truth regardless of how painful it is."

  "I thought so, too, at dinner, seeing my strong-willed mother sitting there. It is worth considering that approach, but not tonight." He stood behind her chair as she brushed her hair. At the end of the day, especially when he was tired, he found it relaxing to watch his wife go through these little rituals before going to bed.

  "I am afraid I am too tired to make hard decisions. Besides, the bed beckons with its warm covers." He took the brush from her hand and laid it on the dresser. "Join me?"

  She smiled up at him as he pulled her up. "Ah yes, the perfect cure for tiredness. Luxuriating in a soft bed."

  "Much better if your wife helps warm it up with you."

  XIX. Confrontation

  John's misgivings about being honest with his mother haunted him again in the morning and occupied his thoughts as he walked to the mill. This situation was new for him, having never had any problems in the past being honest with his mother, particularly on matters pertaining to the mill. He had never taken a position which opposed hers so blatantly nor—worse than that—made decisions that caused her incalculable pain. They had always seemed to be of one mind on important matters about the mill. And yet, what other choice did he have if he believed the workers' request to be legitimate and reasonable and that, in the long run, granting it was best for the mill?

  Of Nicholas's arguments, what concerned him most was the safety of children workers. He had always tried to protect the children in his mill but now that he had his own child, he had become uncompromising in his unwillingness to take risks with their safety. It saddened him to see that anyone below 14 had to work in a factory but if he could not change the law nor the realities of poverty that force children to work, he could at least take steps to make working conditions as good and as safe as possible for these children. If his mother's presence compromised their safety from their fear of her—regardless of whether that fear was irrational or not—he would ask his mother to stop going to the mill.

  By the time he reached his office, he knew that his only choice was honesty about what he believed must be done and he resolved to come home earlier that evening to talk to his mother b
efore dinner. As heartbreaking as the task was before him, postponing it would only put off the inevitable.

  His mother was alone in the drawing room with her embroidery when John came home. It gratified him to see her resume some of her old habits. Before his marriage, it comforted him to come home from work and find her relaxed, contented, working on her needlework in the drawing room. He had taken this peaceful domestic scenario for granted. He had not hurried home for it as he now did at the end of the day, impatient to be with Margaret whom he sought with the tender anticipation of gazing into her limpid eyes and submitting himself to all the little loving ministrations that she thought he needed. The sight of his mother engaged in a pleasant, satisfying task, doing whatever she wanted to—she to whom he owed boundless gratitude for all her sacrifices and efforts to improve his lot—meant that he had repaid her, given her what she desired and certainly deserved.

  John bent over to kiss her cheek. "How are you today, mother?" He was about to render her a terrible, unexpected, undeserved blow and he felt sorry, guilty that it had to be done. He clenched his jaw until it hurt and moved with heavy steps towards the chair opposite his mother.

  Mrs. Thornton smiled at her son in her usual subdued way when she was pleased. "You're home early." Then, anticipating the question he always asked since Margaret came, she pursed her lips and added, "Margaret is out in the garden with your daughter and two or three other idle servants."