Margaret of the North

by EJourney

  With school running from morning until mid-afternoon, Margaret decided to offer pupils a free hot lunch, prepared at the Dining Hall. The decision had an unanticipated consequence. More parents began to bring their younger children to school and the school grew. Larger quarters were needed so an addition to the Dining Hall was built to accommodate 25 to 30 children. Margaret, who had continued, for a few more years, to take care of buying books and other school supplies for the children and paying the teachers, thought it was time to hire a full-time school master to whom she gladly and thankfully passed on management of the school.

  **************

  John knew that strikes could never be eliminated and that the measures he put in place could change neither the market for cotton with its ups and downs nor the solidarity among workers forced to join those from other mills during a general strike. But at Marlborough Mills at least, he and worker representatives could often sit down and talk to resolve problems before they became too big to pester and he was often able to avert the threat of a local strike. The relative infrequency of strikes at his mill could not escape the notice of other manufacturers and gradually, some of them tried a few of the procedures he had installed.

  After the last failure of Marlborough Mills, John reacted with trepidation to all the general strikes over which he had no control. When one threatened to erupt a year after he reopened, he took Henry Lennox's advice and invested money in banking, metals, and new chemicals. It was the best advice Henry ever gave him; John never had to contend with the threat of another financial collapse. The Thorntons fortune never grew, however, as much as that of Fanny and Watson. They used a substantial part of it to expand the medical clinic and the school for children around the premises of the mill, and continued to send older children from the mill to boarding schools. Their efforts received their first reward when Thomas Boucher, with a degree in medicine, returned to Milton years later and took over the clinic full-time after Dr. Hartley returned to America with his wife and children.

  A decade after the mill reopened, John added a special division to the mill, spurred on by the invention of new dyes a few years earlier. It produced high-end fabrics woven with exclusive designs. He got the idea for the fabrics from having seen some of Margaret's paintings and wondering how they would look on cotton the mill fabricated. Taking one of her paintings of flowers, he asked if she could simplify it and redesign it into a repetitive pattern. He did not tell her exactly what he intended to do with it. When she presented him with a design he thought would work, he took it to the mill to see if it could be woven into or imprinted on a fabric. It took several trials stretched over a few weeks before he saw a piece he thought was good enough to put on the market. He settled for a printed design with colors that resisted fading. Only then did he take a sample home to show Margaret and to tell her of his intention to sell the fabric with her design on it. The mill, at first, produced a small amount and it sold so well that they had to produce a larger batch.

  Later, he asked Margaret for more designs and after two years, he felt prepared to form a new division using original designs that she created. The fabrics were produced only in small batches and sold for higher prices. Profits from this division, however, were small, attenuated by the costs of special dyes and the many samples needed to come up with the right colors and fabrics that had no flaws. Still, the division became the more rewarding part of the business to John for the new directions it opened up in textile manufacturing and the creativity it inspired in his wife. Finally, Margaret found a way to get directly involved in the manufacture of cotton.

  **************

  Margaret and Elise sat in the conservatory having tea in the black attire they wore to the funeral. Everyone who came to the funeral had left and the house was finally quiet. Now 19, Elise was home from school for a few days. Neither she nor her mother had appetite for food or drink just then. Dixon, grown slow and feeble but still directing the running of the house, insisted on serving them, enticing them with Elise's favorite accompaniments of berries, cream, and freshly-baked scones and arguing that tea would occupy them, out of habit, and help take their minds away from the events of the last few days.

  After the funeral, John took it for granted that Elise would go with him to the mill house. They needed to take a quick look through it and ascertain that it had been properly secured until they could go through all of Mrs. Thornton's possessions and dispose of them as she had instructed. But Elise, looking mournful, declined to go, saying, "I do not think I could endure seeing the house without grandmama in it."

  Johnny, the oldest son, protested, "But you know the house better than any of us. We all knew she was closest to you. You owe her."

  "Johnny, let your sister be," their father admonished and placing an arm around Elise's shoulder, he said, "Of course, you need not come. Maybe, next time, you will be ready. I am sure any or all these three would come and help."

  The three younger children did indeed prefer to be busy rather than sit around the house, mourning, and they went with John to the house, leaving Margaret and Elise at home.

  After a quarter hour of silence sipping tea, nibbling at a scone and eating one tiny berry at a time, Elise, observed, "Grandmother did not really have too many friends, did she? Everyone that was there was either Papa's business colleague or your friend."

  "I do not think it would have bothered her in the least if we were the only ones there. Hannah was an island unto herself and cared only about her children and grandchildren towards whom she was fiercely protective."

  "I believe she lived a good long life although she never thought she would outlive her own daughter."

  "No, parents always assume they will die before their children."

  They lapsed into silence again, sipping their tea for a few more minutes. "I think grandmama started her decline after Aunt Fanny died." Elise stopped, unwilling to complete the thought that crossed her mind. Instead, she said, "I am relieved to be going back to the university in two days. I will be too busy at school to miss her too much." Her voice broke and she bit her lips to choke down a sob. She dropped her face on her hands.

  Margaret reached over and stroked her daughter's arm in sympathy. Elise, Mrs. Thornton's first grandchild turned out to be her favorite. Margaret thought that, perhaps, it was because Elise was around at just the right time when—finally accepting that she was cut off from the mill—Mrs. Thornton was ready to shift her focus to a new purpose. Little Elise, trusting and gregarious, was eager to receive and return the affection which Mrs. Thornton was ready to give her. She had been captivated by Elise's large expressive eyes and impressed by her alert and curious mind. Molding Elise to her way of thinking and her ideal of a daughter became her new focus. Over the years, the two formed a special bond, one similar to that between Mrs. Thornton and John and as in that case, her devotion to Elise was single-minded. To her, Elise could do no wrong. Mrs. Thornton developed a fondness for all her grandchildren, more from the belief that it was inevitable among those who shared flesh and blood, than from an attachment borne out of frequent and close interactions. None was as compelling as her affection for Elise.

  Unhappily for Mrs. Thornton, Elise was also her mother's child and, asserting her independence of mind when she was old enough to notice and to care, she sided with her parents on matters pertaining to the mill. At 17, she was eager to leave home to study at a university for women. Mrs. Thornton had, by then, lived long enough with her son's "radical" ideas that she had gotten used to them and no longer reacted with the same vehemence with which she protested them during the first two or three years. But she continued to believe that higher education was a waste of time for Milton men and particularly so for women. Still, she accepted Elise's views and ambition with equanimity, albeit with a melancholy lost on the young woman, who was confident of her grandmother's unconditional acceptance and oriented in her thoughts and desires to the promise the future held for her.

  Elise, a little calmer, d
abbed her eyes and smiled tremulously at her mother. "Why did you not go with Papa to grandmother's house?"

  "I could not leave you all alone here by yourself, could I?"

  "I can take care of myself." Elise asserted, somewhat annoyed at the implication in her mother's answer.

  "I know you can but grief at losing someone you care about can sneak up on you in ways you never imagine."

  "Papa seemed to handle it well enough. He did not shed a single tear. I suppose he felt he should not and stood in front of the coffin as rigid as a stone, his jaw clenched the whole time. How could men do that?"

  "Your father has been mourning and, believe it or not, he did cry but, alone, with me in our bedroom." Margaret could not mask the hurt she felt at her daughter's remark. "It might not have been obvious to you but your father and Hannah had a relationship as special as yours was with her, probably more so because of their shared sufferings and triumphs. The past month has been some of the saddest he has been through."

  "I am sorry, Mama. I meant no disrespect. But this is so hard, so painful." Elise's voice quivered with the struggle to remain composed.

  "I know," Margaret leaned forward, touched her cheek affectionately and squeezed her hand.

  They sat in silence for many minutes, both deep in thought, until Elise spoke again. "I remember grandmother telling me in the middle of reading me a book that you had cast a spell on Papa. She probably meant to be funny but I was then about five or six, enchanted but also scared by fairies and spells so I never forgot her remark. I would recall it across the years every time she spoke of the changes Papa made at the mill after he married you. I could sense she disapproved and, later when I was older, I suspected she blamed the changes on the spell you cast on him."

  Margaret was flabbergasted but was even more startled at what Elise said next. "She was right, you know, about Papa and you but she only saw part of it. When I was growing up, I sometimes felt excluded when I saw you and Papa so wrapped up in each other as if there were just the two of you in the room. As I grew older, whenever that happened, I wanted to shout at you just so I knew you knew I was there."

  Elise glanced at her mother whose unflinching gaze was fixed on her anxiously, her brow knitted, and her mouth open, as if she just sucked in her breath. "Don't get me wrong. I know that you and Papa love me very much. You have both been wonderful to all four of us—irritating on many occasions but, generally, I don't think we could have asked for better parents."

  The concern in Margaret's eyes faded a little but this confession from her daughter was so unexpected that it left her speechless, uncertain what to make of it. After another long moment of silence, Elise asked, "What have you two decided to do with grandmama's belongings?"

  "It seems that she had written instructions just after Fanny died on what to do with them and, as you know, last Christmas, she gave you the most precious possessions she had that she had not given your Aunt Fanny at her marriage."

  "Yes, as if she knew that she will not see me again." Elise's voice quivered once more as she spoke.

  When Mrs. Thornton fell seriously ill, John and Margaret insisted on her being cared for in their home. Jane came to attend to Mrs. Thornton and the two other servants were sent off on vacation with pay until they were called back. The mill house had remained empty since. Mrs. Thornton deteriorated fast and passed away within a month of falling ill. Elise, at school at that time, had last seen her grandmother alive the past Christmas.

  "I feel guilty about some things grandmama gave me. Her tastes in jewelry and décor are not exactly mine and, yet, I feel I must pay homage to her by using them." She looked expectantly at her mother.

  Margaret nodded without answering, reluctant to tell her daughter what to do. Elise would have to consult her own conscience on such matters.

  "Do you suppose I should have gone to her house with Papa? I would not be of help to him there, I know I would start crying." Elise paused, on the brink of tears. "But maybe I should have gone because I was not here when she was suffering. I should have been here when she died." Elise burst out crying, uncontrollably.

  "Her condition deteriorated so fast even the doctors could not tell," Margaret replied, holding her daughter in her arms. She stroked her back tenderly, wordlessly while Elise let all the tears flow that she had choked back in the past few days. It took her a long time to calm down.

  **************

  That night, as John climbed into bed, he handed Margaret a package while she sat on the bed, reading a book. "We found this in mother's wardrobe. It is addressed to you. She never mentioned it in her instructions regarding her possessions. We would have missed it but for your little daughter's sharp eye and fascination with mysterious boxes."

  "When Elise was learning to talk, Hannah invented that game of "What is in the box?" Elise enjoyed it so much and it apparently worked so well for her that grandmama used it with the other children. But Cristina took to it the most." Margaret remarked as, both puzzled and curious, she put her book aside and took the package. She laid it on her lap and felt reluctant to open it.

  From the time Mrs. Thornton returned after several months in London for Fanny's confinement, she and Margaret grew to be civil and even comfortable enough with each other that they could sit all alone in the drawing room together, going about their tasks in tranquility, for an appreciable length of time. They often did not talk but seemed content to simply be in the same room, preoccupied with their own work. Since Mrs. Thornton's return, neither she nor Margaret ever alluded to their encounters in the drawing room or the studio and Margaret thought that Mrs. Thornton actually took pains to be friendly towards her.

  Frequently on Fridays, Mrs. Thornton would arrive at their house early and join Margaret in the room while she was practicing at the piano. Margaret suspected that Mrs. Thornton came early on purpose to listen to her. She always carried her sewing basket, walked in quietly so as not to disturb Margaret, sat on the same chair every time, and without saying a word, began to do her needlework. She remained as unobtrusive as she could while Margaret played, offered no polite praises nor said thank you even when Margaret finished. But, she smiled warmly at her whenever their eyes met. Margaret matched Mrs. Thornton's dignified silence and usually left the room after her practice with just a sweet smile and a nod while the older woman continued her work. Mrs. Thornton stayed in the drawing room until Elise awakened from her nap and grandmother and granddaughter went out with Mary into the garden.

  Margaret developed some affection for Mrs. Thornton on account of those peaceful moments and the latter's genuine attachment to Elise but Margaret was never certain how her mother-in-law regarded her. She still occasionally felt her disapproval, no longer voiced but conveyed nonetheless in gestures Margaret had become familiar with and had associated with past unpleasant encounters.

  Margaret ran her fingers over the package and stared at it for a few moments. Perhaps, it contained something that would give her some clue but, when she lifted it again to shake it a little, it was so light and made no noise that she thought, not without wry amusement, that it was empty.

  John, his daily journal in hand, waited to read it so he could watch Margaret open the package. He was as curious as Margaret about what it contained and, when she stared at it, shook it and stared at it again for what seemed such an interminable time, John almost prodded her to open it. Finally, she lifted the cover off the box slowly and carefully as if she was afraid to disturb what was inside.

  Inside lay an exquisite lace collar carefully wrapped within a piece of fine muslin. The lace looked vaguely familiar to Margaret and she knew she had seen it before, no doubt adorning Mrs. Thornton's neck. She picked up the collar and found a small note tucked inside, neatly written with the same flourish as that embroidered on Mrs. Thornton's linens. It contained one short sentence: "Thank you with all my heart for all you have been to John." The note was neither signed nor dated.

  John remarked, "Mother's favorite lace! It's ne
arly twenty years since I last saw her wear it. I thought she had given it to Fanny."

  Margaret glanced up at John briefly, a half-smile on her lips, her eyes shining and a little moist. She handed him the note, leaned against him and laid her head against his shoulder. He read the note in one cursory glance and put it carefully back in the box before removing the package off her lap and placing it, along with his journal, on the table next to him. He smiled tenderly and gathered her in his arms.

  In a slight self-mocking tone, whispered in her ear, "Have I ever told you that you are the best thing that ever happened to me?"

  "Do you think as many times, at least, as my telling you that loving you is the easiest thing I do?" She muttered as his lips brushed hers.

  ‡‡‡‡‡

  Afterword

  My Male Perspective: Margaret of the North

  Richard Journey, Ph.D.

  Margaret of the North by E. Journey continues the story begun in North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell, a British writer in the mid-1800s. The romance between Margaret Hale and John Thornton was later dramatized by a 2004, BBC North & South TV serial, a mini-series of four 50-minute episodes with Daniela Denby-Ashe and Richard Armitage in the lead roles.

  This novel, Margaret of the North, sensitively gives us the ensuing life histories of Margaret and Thornton; and the author, E. Journey, beautifully recapitulates it in a video using original art work by this same author. This art work is included in some chapters to illustrate the novel.

  But this novel is more than just a romance. It also tries to keep and to further develop some of the complexity of Gaskell’s original novel. Gaskell’s novel describes the great upheavals of the industrial revolution in England “…changing times—modern poverty, rage, desperation, militant trade unionism and class antagonism.” (Roberto Dainotto) through Margaret’s eyes and experience.