by EJourney
He smiled gently and capitulated. "I think it would be ungracious of me to argue against you on this point since I have been the fortunate beneficiary of two extraordinary women's affection and goodwill."
She arched her eyebrows at him, smiling coyly. "You are generous with your gratitude, probably more than most. I am sure that there are men—probably rare—who do what they do quite well without a woman's support. And there are women who make demands that undermine what a man does."
"I said only what is true for me. I realize how fortunate I have been having such a mother and now, an even more remarkable wife—luckier than most men, certainly—and my gratitude is commensurate to what I have been given."
She gave him her half-smile, paused for an instant or two, picked up a tart with her hand, took a bite and ate it slowly. Then, staring thoughtfully at the tart between her fingers, she declared, "Someday, I hope women can go to university and work in professions of their own choosing, even those done traditionally by men and, perhaps, we can then get what we need or want for ourselves without depending on a man. I hope that chance comes soon enough for Elise. I read about a woman who became a doctor."
John regarded her for a very long moment. Where was she getting those ideas? What had she been reading lately? This was the boldest of all the comments she had made about women and it provoked in him both some trepidation and admiration.
He turned his attention back to the tart he had starred eating with a fork but he put the fork down and, pointing at the tart in her hand, asked, "Was that something you did as well when you were a child?"
"You mean, eat tarts with my hand? Fred started it when we were children to see what he could get away with. Mama, usually conscious of decorum, was easy on him. But we were not allowed to do this at dinner." With mischievous glee, she added, "Now, I can."
He laughed, then picked up his tart. "It's tastier this way."
Later in bed, as John drifted off to sleep, Margaret lay awake gazing at him, stroking his hair. His last waking memory was of his wife kissing him good night and murmuring against his lips, "I love you."
**************
A few weeks later, the Thorntons had their first dinner party at the house for new neighbors, John's business associates and their wives. Fanny arrived with Watson early in the evening and found her mother and brother in the drawing room. John was looking out the window, drink in hand. Mrs. Thornton was fussing around, askance at the table settings with their mix of dinner plates and silverware. More people were expected at dinner than the number of service in the Thornton dinner wares and Margaret had asked Dixon to unpack those of her mother's and use them. The latter were much older and daintier but less ostentatious and Margaret had them placed in alternate positions for the female guests. The patterns were clearly different but the mix did not bother Margaret who thought it rather charming. It apparently grated on Mrs. Thornton's sense of taste and propriety and she turned away with disdain from the table.
After greeting her mother and brother, Fanny plopped herself down on a couch. "How tired I am already. But I must rally for I have some news. Where is Margaret? I want her to hear it, too."
John replied, "She's getting Elise ready for bed."
"She must still be nursing," Fanny said a little contemptuously.
"Yes. It has its benefits," answered John irritably, then he looked past Fanny. "Well, here she is with Elise." He walked towards them and kissed them both. "Has my little girl come to say good night?"
Elise, her eyes alert, first looked around the room and seeing strange faces, leaned against her mother's bosom and tried to hide her face. She raised her head, however, when her father gave her a peck on the cheek, and then reached her arms out to him and said something inarticulate.
John took Elise from Margaret and kissed her a few more times on her face and her belly. The child gurgled and imitated her father by kissing him back on his cheeks.
Fanny remarked, "She has the color of my hair, at least when I was a child."
"Yes, she does." Mrs. Thornton said. It was the first time she spoke that evening.
"Well, now that Margaret is here, I can tell you." Fanny announced, glancing towards Watson who was pouring himself a drink. "I am expecting."
Watson turned and raised his glass to all but addressed John in particular, "I am hoping for a boy."
"That is great news," Margaret exclaimed, smiling at Fanny and Watson. Mrs. Thornton smiled, pleased but somewhat apprehensive. John walked towards Watson and shook Watson's hand vigorously.
Fanny smiled tremulously and turned to her mother fretfully. "Mother, I will need you at least during my confinement, if not before. You must come and stay with me."
"Of course. At once, if you wish since I am not needed here nor at the mill." Mrs. Thornton did not attempt to hide the bitterness in her voice.
"We have leased a flat in London for six months for my lying-in and you must come then."
"London!" Mrs. Thornton was flabbergasted. "Why would anyone wish to go to London for that?"
"But mother, you cannot refuse. Watson will be back and forth from London to Milton on business and I am scared to death to be alone. I think about growing so big and getting ugly and how I will endure the pain when the baby arrives. You don't know how frightened I am." Fanny covered her face with her hands, nearly in tears.
Mrs. Thornton sighed. "All right, Fanny. I suppose I need not go anywhere once I am in London."
Margaret sat down next to Fanny and placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. "It can be scary but you are young and if you take good care of yourself, everything will be all right. If you want, I can ask Edith for the name of her doctor. He is the best, as my cousin tells me, and has a very reassuring manner. He will follow you closely through your pregnancy."
Fanny looked at her with grateful eyes. "Thank you, I would like that. He might be better than the one a business associate recommended to Watson. I am really scared going through this and Watson does not give me enough sympathy."
Margaret smiled and stroked her arm, trying to reassuring her. "You will get through it, you'll see, and afterwards, you might wonder why you were so scared."
**************
Among the visitors to their first party were Mr. Latimer, his daughter Ann, and Henry Lennox who was staying with the Latimers. Although Henry Lennox often came to Milton on business or to be with his fiancée, Ann Latimer, Margaret had not seen him since her wedding. No word was exchanged between them on that day beyond the formal best wishes muttered with a perfunctory buzz on the cheek. The night before that, their conversations had been forced and awkward. The many months in between had brought major changes and restored the informality and ease of their former interactions in London. Henry was relaxed and friendly when he greeted John and Margaret and she, in turn, was happy to respond in the same way.
New to the city and attending his first social gathering was a young doctor, Dr. Hartley, who just arrived from America. Margaret had invited him and Dr. Donaldson when the latter informed her that he intended to transfer his young patients to this new doctor who had specialized in children's diseases. Dr. Hartley was born in England but moved to America with his parents when he was a child. Curious about his heritage and the country his parents grew up in, he decided to return to England and practice his profession there.
Tall, broad-shouldered and handsome, he easily became the evening's sensation and everyone, eager to hear what he had to say about the world on the other side of the vast ocean, pumped him with questions. He clearly relished the attention and he talked freely and enjoyed satisfying everyone's curiosity. His manner, frank and casual, offended some and delighted many, particularly all the young women who immediately thought him a good catch. They waited only for an introduction before giving him their card and asking him over for tea. Margaret was curious as well but, as the busy hostess, she only had time to inquire about how he found his new surroundings before other visitors claimed her attention.
Dr. Hartley was, in fact, fascinated with his young hostess. He had expected to meet someone plump, maternal and older. Instead, he was introduced to this very lovely woman, a few years younger than he. He first noticed her expressive eyes: Were they blue or green or both? They were so clear he could see deep into them. He watched her move among the guests with poise and a simple natural elegance he seldom saw among young women he knew in America. Eavesdropping on her conversations with others, he discovered that she was also intelligent and had well-considered opinions she did not hesitate to share.
The young doctor was smitten. He could not help remarking to Dr. Donaldson, "Mrs. Margaret Thornton is easily the most enchanting woman in this room."
"Careful, Hartley," Dr. Donaldson replied with amusement. "John Thornton can be a formidable adversary and he is very much in love with his wife."
"I don't doubt it," Dr. Hartley muttered but Dr. Donaldson's caution proved to have no effect on him. Before the night was over, Dr. Hartley fancied himself infatuated with the mother of his little patient.
Henry, who dutifully stayed by Ann Latimer's side for most of the evening, came up to Margaret when Ann's attention was sought by her father. "I think you have a new conquest tonight." He remarked in the teasing tone he used to assume when she seemed distant and he wanted to provoke her into making a response.
She looked at him, puzzled, and he gestured with his head towards Dr. Hartley, adding, "He could hardly take his eyes off you. He banters and discusses and he flirts with the pretty women but his eyes are always darting in your direction."
She laughed in that way he knew when she was diverted but somewhat embarrassed; her eyes twinkled but hardly any sound issued from her slightly-open mouth. "I probably just remind him of someone from home. I imagine he must be homesick." She changed the subject and remarked with more liveliness, "So, are we going to be neighbors or will you and Miss Latimer settle in London?"
"Both, I imagine. We will have a townhouse in London. My practice is mostly there and Ann has embraced London fully but we will also keep house here with Mr. Latimer. Ann is quite attached to her father and I will be a legal consultant in his bank."
"You look happy and content. I am glad."
"Yes. We suit each other quite well, Ann and I. My future father-in-law has also convinced me to limit my practice to business law so we will spend a great deal of time here."
"Mr. Latimer must be grooming you for a top post in his bank."
"Yes," he answered simply and with a broad smile, added "Oh, here's Ann."
Miss Latimer had left her father talking with another guest and was then approaching them. "Ann, you have met Mrs. Margaret Thornton," Henry said, gesturing towards Margaret.
"Yes. Good Evening, Mrs. Thornton." Miss Latimer glanced at her and turned towards Henry, hooking her hand around his arm in the same possessive gesture Margaret had seen her assume with John so long ago.
"Good Evening, Miss Latimer. Thank you for coming tonight." Margaret smiled engagingly, paused, and when Miss Latimer did not answer or look at her, she turned to Henry. "Miss Latimer and I met a few times when I first lived in Milton but we never really had the chance to talk and get acquainted. I believe we saw each other last at Fanny's wedding, did we not, Miss Latimer?"
"Yes." The answer was curt, spoken in a cold manner that was not lost on either Margaret, who was somewhat amused, or Henry, who was perplexed. He found this demeanor uncharacteristic of Miss Latimer who had always been gracious to everyone they met and, sometimes even ingratiating, when potential clients were involved.
"I told Ann I have known you for many years and as Edith's cousin, you and I were thrown a lot into each other's company in London. She also knows that Mr. Thornton had kept me on as your legal adviser in financial matters."
Margaret suspected that Henry was addressing Miss Latimer, instead of her, trying to reassure his fiancée. Margaret answered in a similar vein. "Yes, Edith is quite fond of Henry and he was a fixture at Harley Street, popping up unannounced, but always welcome, for breakfast or dinner. If we happen to all be in London at the same time, I am sure we will see a lot of each other there. Edith likes to gather friends together for dinner parties. Perhaps, we will become better acquainted then."
"I hope we need not wait to go to London for that. We intend to have our own dinner parties here for both friends and business associates and clients. Ann is the perfect hostess, having hosted many of them for her father." Henry answered, anxious eyes on Miss Latimer whose attention seemed to be tenaciously on her father across the room.
"I am in awe of perfect hostesses since I have neither the talent nor experience for it the way you and Edith have." Margaret addressed Miss Latimer directly with a sweet disarming smile.
Miss Latimer had no choice but to turn to her and respond. "Thank you." That was all she wanted to say but Margaret still smiling engagingly at her, held her gaze. Miss Latimer finally broke into a faint smile. "Perhaps, we will have more opportunities to become better acquainted."
"I would like that very much." Margaret replied warmly, sincerely.
Henry Lennox was not the only one who noticed Dr. Hartley's fascination with Margaret. John did as well. He had noticed it from the time the doctor was introduced to him and Margaret, in the instantaneous look of surprise followed by an intent gaze of undisguised admiration and interest. He knew that look; he had it when Mr. Hale first presented his daughter to him. After dinner, when Margaret ushered the ladies to the drawing room—leaving the men behind to talk about business and other serious topics of no interest to the women—John got up and with an apologetic smile, said, "Excuse me. I need to talk to my wife but please continue your discussion. I will only be a moment."
He left the men in the dining room and called out to Mrs. Thornton as he caught up with his wife, "Mother can you please show the ladies to the drawing room. I need to talk to Margaret."
Margaret paused in her steps and lifted questioning eyebrows at him. With his hand on her back, he drew her aside and whispered, his lips brushing her temple, "The American could hardly take his eyes off you all through dinner and seemed too distracted to give full attention to those around him."
She smiled her sweetest at him as she answered saucily, "Is that all you wanted to tell me? If what you say is true, then he should have noticed how often I gazed at you adoringly."
He laughed and drew her closer, his hand caressing the nape of her neck. He was aware that Dr. Hartley was watching when he gave his wife a long deep kiss. She laid her head briefly on his shoulder and clung to him, murmuring with some amusement, "Was there a message in that little show we just put on?"
He grinned impishly and answered, his lips delicately nibbling at her cheek. "Of course. I am not above making sure every earnest young or old man realizes you are off limits. There is something of the ape in us men. We send out signals that we protect our territory when challenged."
"And there is something of the vamp in us women." With that remark, she clasped his face with both hands and kissed him passionately. Then, she turned around abruptly and walked away, leaving him behind, his mouth slightly open as his bemused eyes followed her receding figure.
XXI. Uncertain Rapprochement
Mrs. Thornton decided to join Fanny and Watson in London as soon as she could. The afternoon before she left, she descended from her bedroom to talk to Margaret and attempt some semblance of a reconciliation. She told herself that proper decorum compelled her to do so since she was going away for some time. She agonized for many days over when and how to do it and chose a time when Margaret was in the room adjacent to the kitchen. Jane had told her that Margaret had gradually turned it into a painting studio and Mrs. Thornton was curious to see what Margaret did there. She had never been in it and could not imagine why anyone would bother to have a separate room to paint in.
Most afternoons after Elise started her nap, Margaret spent a few hours sketching or painting in the studio, emerging from it usually
by late afternoon. On warm sunny days, she often came out earlier to take Elise, by then up from her nap, to play in the garden or to promenade out in a pram with Mary. Margaret relished her solitary afternoons, usually also a time she had alone with her thoughts. The act of creating—her mind and hands thoroughly engaged in committing observations and imagination on a blank canvas—helped her think more clearly and reassess incidents or matters she might not initially comprehend. She often reached a point, through this means, when matters eventually fell into some perspective, if not resolution. When she was particularly distressed, the confusion of thoughts and emotions poured out of her through the motions and energy of applying pencil or brush to paper or canvas and she produced colors and lines that did not often take on recognizable shapes. She made them anyway. Somehow, those spontaneous gestures released tensions she had bottled up.
More often than not, she passed her days in relative ease and commonplace concerns and the marks she made were more controlled and purposeful. She could, thus, focus better on painting specific forms and colors, paying more attention to technique and envisioning the finished painting clearly. On the day Mrs. Thornton came, Margaret was painting a portrait of John and Elise together.
When Mrs. Thornton knocked on her door, Margaret was transferring one of her many sketches of the portrait on a canvas, in preparation for painting it. Her sketches were all strewn on a long, old kitchen table discarded from the renovation. She did not get up to open the door at the knock, expecting either Dixon, who might need to see her about some household decision that could not be made without her, or Mary, who might want instructions on Elise's care. Apart from those two, John was the only other person who ventured into the room when Margaret painted but he hardly ever knocked. He walked in quietly, touched her gently, or kissed her softly on the nape of her neck if she was painting or sketching, careful not to startle her out of her concentration.
Margaret called out. "The door is unlocked. Come in please."