by EJourney
Mrs. Thornton was struck by how much John had changed. He was actually busier and more involved in the mill now but, at home, he was relaxed, gentle, funny, and openly affectionate towards his wife. Somewhere and sometime during the two years or so that he had been married, he had let go of that reserve that Mrs. Thornton thought was natural to the Thorntons and even the women they had married, at least until Margaret. She also saw, as if for the first time, that Margaret was indeed quite beautiful especially when she looked at John with radiant eyes and a tender smile on her lips. In those moments, she was utterly bewitching and Mrs. Thornton thought that if this was how John saw Margaret, then it was no wonder he seemed so smitten with his wife.
Mrs. Thornton felt a pang of remorse for her past resentment towards Margaret. She did not deny that Margaret continued, at least occasionally, to make her feel left out, alone and totally supplanted but now, she allowed that her daughter-in-law never deliberately did anything to do so, that it was not her fault that John was sometimes so completely absorbed in her that he was oblivious of his mother. It was thus that the transformation of Mrs. Thornton's attitude towards Margaret actually began. By the time John told his mother that he and Margaret intended to visit Helstone and the adjoining coast on their second anniversary, Mrs. Thornton was more agreeably predisposed towards Margaret.
**************
At dinner on a Friday evening, two weeks before the projected trip, John started the usual conversation by informing his mother of the trip.
Mrs. Thornton asked, "Are you taking Elise with you?"
John looked at his wife and answered. "Margaret is apprehensive about leaving her alone with Dixon and Mary but I am insisting on having my wife to myself for one week. What harm could happen in such a short period?"
Margaret smiled and shrugged. "We have not decided with certainty about what to do."
Mrs. Thornton addressed her son. "I understand how Margaret feels. She has strong maternal instincts with which I am familiar and which you, being a man, can never know about."
John and Margaret, both pleasantly surprised, simultaneously stared at her. Mrs. Thornton smiled at them mildly, amused at their reaction. Then, she said to Margaret, "I can stay and supervise her care while you're gone. Will you be more at ease with that?"
Margaret, even more startled at this offer, broke into a broad smile, her eyes suddenly moist. "Yes, why, yes!" She was too overcome to do more than acquiesce, her maternal apprehensions quelled by the unexpected kindness and generosity of her mother-in-law. She did not pause then to consider that this arrangement did not change the possibility that her daughter might fret and cry over her mother's absence. Despite their differences, Margaret did not doubt that Mrs. Thornton's gifts and skills at mothering were at least equal to, if not better, than her own. In any case, it had not been lost on her that Elise and her grandmother were steadily growing fond of each other.
"I cannot take care of her the way you do. For one, she is too heavy for me to lift and carry but I have led her by the hand as we walked in the garden and, if Mary puts her on my lap, I can read to her. I would certainly be happy to stay here with her while you are away and with Mary and Dixon, we can make sure she is content and properly cared for."
John looked at his mother with grateful smiling eyes and turned to Margaret. "It seems mother just put an end to our argument."
"Yes," was all the reply Margaret could utter in a slightly quivering voice and she turned towards Mrs. Thornton with eyes moister than before. "Thank you!"
Mrs. Thornton nodded, embarrassed by the obvious show of sincere gratitude on the countenance of someone she had treated as a stranger, a visitor who would eventually leave. She was touched, ready to express the kindlier regard towards Margaret that she finally gave herself permission to cultivate. It surprised her how tranquil and easy she was to have at least some regard supplant hatred and jealousy. That night, she went to sleep, at peace, in her old room. She told herself that she could never love Margaret as she did her own daughter but it gratified her, anyway, that she could finally see Margaret as she really was.
That same night, as soon as they gained the privacy of their room, Margaret turned to John and buried her face on his shoulders. John clasped her close, caressing her back as little convulsions shook her upper body and her tears wet his shirt. He had watched her when his mother offered to stay with Elise and knew that it took Margaret all her self-control to prevent her tears from coming. Across the two years they had been married, he had learned that his wife had the strange habit of crying when she was both grateful and happy. Yet, she could also hold her tears back tenaciously when she was hurt and angry—he could tell she was overcome by such emotions from her eyes which either flashed fiercely or was clouded with sorrow.
John stayed silent through her tearful happy outburst, kissing her wet face occasionally. Eventually, she calmed down, raised her head, gave him her half-smile, and without a word, walked slowly to her dressing room to prepare for bed. She looked back at him and the words, "I love you" broke from her lips without a sound. Then, she disappeared into her dressing room.
When John went to bed, Margaret was already there, peacefully asleep. He gazed at her for a moment before he climbed in, snuggled close, and went to sleep.
**************
John and Margaret did not talk about that Friday night conversation with Mrs. Thornton until they had been on their trip for a few days and had left Helstone. On a leisurely walk along the coast, Margaret brought the matter up. "I had always hoped Hannah would learn to accept me, if not actually like me, as your wife. I did not expect that she would ever show me any affection. My only hope when she got back from London was that we could tolerate each other well enough. When she sided with me that night and smiled at me with such gentleness, I was incredulous. Incredulous and grateful."
John smiled warmly at her but he did not reply. They walked for some distance before Margaret spoke again. "Do you suppose she will consent to coming back to live with us? She and Elise seem to have developed a special closeness."
John smiled indulgently and with some amusement at his wife's childlike trust. "Did it not occur to you, my sweet little wife that, perhaps, she can be more generous with her affection because she lives in her own house where she can once again rule? I think tension will return at home if she returns."
"You are probably right but I am still in awe of how events have turned out. I thought that when she returned from London, she might be more favorably disposed towards me but her attitude has changed beyond anything I ever hoped for. I have often wondered whether something happened in London."
He looked at her thoughtfully but did not answer. Then, after walking a few more minutes, he said, "If you must know, mother and I did have some sort of confrontation on the afternoon I left London."
Margaret glanced curiously at him, looked away, and waited for him to continue. She had, in fact, suspected as much.
"She wanted me to understand why she said so many harsh hurtful things to you. She assumed that you had told me about them."
Margaret did not reply, staring resolutely, instead, at the footsteps made by those who had strolled along the same path, still intact in the sand, resistant to the waves that swept over them.
"I asked her what hurtful things she said. She was, of course, hesitant to tell me but, eventually, she did. I stormed out of the house in anger and walked towards the train station meaning to come home to you right away and show you how sorry I was. But I must have taken the wrong direction and found myself at a park. Anyway, I sat on a bench for some time and when I calmed down, I returned to the house. I told her that I did understand how she felt and why she might have said those things to you but I also told her very emphatically that she would be taking my happiness, my main reason for living away from me if her words caused you to leave me. I am sure that what I said made her think hard."
Margaret stayed silent and they continued their walk at a slower pace. Memo
ries of the confrontation with Mrs. Thornton still pained her, and for some moments, it marred the regard she had started to feel for her mother-in-law. Then, she reminded herself that nothing but distress, unhappiness, and confusion attended such recollections and, anyway, was it not pleasanter to dwell instead on what she meant to John? Farther into their walk, Margaret said, "It is not going to be that easy to make me leave you."
"You did consider going to London to ease the tension with my mother. That bothered me immensely. Was that shortly after that unfortunate encounter?"
Margaret paused in her steps and reached up to caress his cheeks. "How long do you suppose can I stay away from you? The night you were in London, I slept fitfully and kept reaching out to where you usually lie."
John grasped her hand, pressed it to his lips, and in a tone hoarse and contrite, said, "Words are not enough to express how sorry I am about my mother's cruel words to you."
She smiled tremulously at him and kissed the hand that grasped hers. They stood, gazing at each other. After some time, she said, "Let's not dwell on it. The day is too beautiful and we only have a day left to enjoy the coast."
He nodded and placed his arm around her shoulders and they resumed their walk.
**************
The trip to Helstone meant much to Margaret. When she last visited it nearly three years ago with Mr. Bell, her experience had not been entirely pleasant. She thought the town would always have a special niche in her heart, but that visit reminded her too painfully of people who had been most dear to her but who she had lost. She was convinced, at the time, that she would never want to return to Helstone and would have to content herself with her memories of it. Later, on looking back, she realized that wounds from the loss of people she cared for and of the love she was too inexperienced and too proud to reciprocate had still pestered and affected her perceptions of the village. But time had once more wrought changes, happy ones that had given her hope that returning to Helstone with John would bring back at least some of the old pleasures the place gave her. Margaret wanted to show John where she had grown up but, in her heart, she knew this visit was as much for her as for him. It was, perhaps, like an attempt on her part to rekindle deep sentiments that had strayed.
She took him through the many paths she used to walk; the stumps of trees and grassy mounds she had sat on as—engulfed by the beauty around her—she did sketches of the scenery; the secret nooks that she and Frederick used to hide in; the spots where hedgerows of roses used to grow; and even the neighborhoods she had visited with her mother on parish business. She wanted him to see and feel what growing up in Helstone was like for her—to step on a thick carpet of grass, so rare in Milton, and have it release an herbal fragrance that lingered on her shoes and the hem of her skirt; to catch her breath as bright red poppies swayed gracefully with the breeze that also cooled her cheeks; to listen to the music the wind made with the grass, the trees, and everything else in its path; to keep discovering pieces of nature in all its varied beauty. On one of their walks, a well-trodden path that parishioners took to the church and the parson's house, they happened upon the hedgerow of roses John found on his first visit to Helstone and from which he plucked the rose he offered her. She had missed those bushes on the walk with Mr. Bell in her previous visit.
The parson's house was the only social visit they planned in Helstone. John recollected having walked by it on his solitary visit because it was the largest house in the area on the south edge of the town. Margaret had written the parson, informing him that she was coming with her husband. When they arrived, tea had been waiting and the parson's wife received them with more than the usual courtesy accorded to relative strangers.
Margaret was curious to see how the parson and his wife would react when she introduced John as someone born and bred in an industrial city in the north where he was now a manufacturer of cotton. Recalling the remark the parson's wife made about the wild north, Margaret felt a perverse delight in presenting her husband, looking tranquil and nobler in his countenance and bearing than the parson ever could. It amused her that the couple and even their children treated John with deference often accorded to landed gentry. At one point during tea, the parson offered them a room in the house during their stay in Helstone and he kept apologizing for the modesty of the accommodations. John and Margaret politely and graciously declined, saying that they had already checked into an inn in town.
After tea, Margaret requested the parson's wife for a look around the house to show John where she had grown up. Although the house had been extensively renovated to accommodate the present parson's much larger family, Margaret thought he could still get a general idea of where the Hales gathered for daily activities and where there had been a piano that she reluctantly practiced on. She was grateful to see her old room still intact and she could show him where she read her books and did her lessons as well as where she cried her heart out at night when she had been chastised. After taking him on walks to experience the idyllic landscapes of Helstone, she meant to give him a glimpse into country living in a tiny hamlet with their visit to the Parsonage.
When they were walking back to town, John asked Margaret, "Why was there that wicked twinkle of in your eyes while we were having tea?"
She smiled broadly at him as she recalled the mixture of surprise, embarrassment, and eagerness to please on the countenance of both the parson and his wife when she introduced John. "On my last visit here three years ago, I nearly lost my temper when the parson's wife insinuated that I had become wild in my ideas because I had lived in the north where life was "more wild."
"I see. I was the specimen from the north to prove them wrong."
"Well, yes, I wanted to show them how ignorant they were of Northerners. That was all incidental, of course. Primarily, I wanted you to see where I grew up. You have always told me you wanted to know all you could about my life here. Although the house is much altered, I thought enough was left of what it had been to give you a glimpse into my childhood."
"I had a rather pleasant, illuminating visit and I thought it generous of the parson to welcome us to his house for that purpose." He turned towards her, his eyes teasing. "How did I do as a specimen?"
"Admirably, of course," she replied, her lips in a slight pout as she felt somewhat chastised. "You are mocking me just a little for laughing at their ignorance and you think that it was insolent of me to do so after their kind reception."
"No, you were not at all insolent. One can easily see how sincere your gratitude was to them when we parted but I do not often condone laughing at ignorance."
Margaret was silent for a couple of minutes before she answered with some defiance in her voice. "You were not here three years ago when the parson criticized my father's questioning of church policies and declared ignorance better than all that "book learning"—those were his very words and the very idea his wife called wild."
John was taken aback but did not answer until after they had walked some distance. He stopped and turned to face her. "I am sorry. I do not agree with that type of ignorance. We cannot know everything but I believe we must learn all we can in matters of conscience and faith."
Margaret nodded but said nothing. He gazed at her with contrition in his eyes. She looked even more beautiful in the clear and mellow southern light. Her ivory skin had a bright velvety cast and her eyes were an even deeper blue. There were so many times in the past when he disagreed with and even disapproved of her ideas but later realized she had a good reason for them. He had wanted to apologize afterwards, admit she was right, and take her in his arms to kiss away her hurt look or her displeasure. Before that fateful day at the train station, he did not have the right to do so. He did all those now as they stood on the street. There were but a few people passing them by but he did not doubt that they watched, particularly because he was kissing the old parson's daughter, one of their own. He found, upon arrival in Helstone, that many townspeople still remembered the Hales, even after so many
years absence, and were glad to see Miss Hale come for a visit.
He wondered if his spontaneous gesture of affection offended southern sensibilities but he did not care. People were not so different. In a northern city like Milton, people might not openly express either offense or shock but they would gossip and, if the kissing couple was not married, the gossip could be the ruin of the lady's reputation. John placed an arm around Margaret's shoulders and led her back into town in silence.
They were approaching the inn when he asked, "Will they think us wild for kissing in the open?"
"Yes!" She answered with an impish smile, "But we are from the north. We have an excuse."
**************
When they sat down to dinner at the inn on their last evening in Helstone, Margaret seemed both pensive and wistful as she said, I thought I would never come back here. My previous visit was too sad because many of my illusions were destroyed and the associations of this place with my parents were too vivid and too painful."
"So, why did you come back?"
"Helstone still occupies a special place in my heart and I have faith that time heals wounds. Besides, at that time, I not only suffered from having lost my parents, I also despaired that I had sunk in your opinion. I thought that if I came back here with you, I would have new and pleasant memories."
His face lighted up into a smile of serene happiness at her admission of his influence on her. "Did my opinion matter that much to you?"
She did not answer but wrinkled her nose up at him.
He continued, teasing. "I suppose it was only fair that you were suffering the same way I was. Did you ever imagine the agony I went through thinking that you could never be mine? That would have been about the same time."