In Consequence: A Retelling of North and South

by Trudy Brasure

  A look of uncertainty flitted across his features, creasing his brow. “I don’t know,” he answered. He had not given thought to a date; it was enough to know that she would be his.

  “I suppose next spring will be soon enough. I’m sure Margaret will want time to plan a grand wedding,” the austere widow declared, presuming that her son had been caught for his wealth and prestige.

  “I’m certain there is no need for a grand wedding,” the eager lover countered, a cold chill seeping through his veins at the thought of a long engagement.

  His mother studied his face, discerning with a twinge of jealousy the impatient yearning seething beneath his placid demeanor. Her heart fell to recognize that he had fallen hard for the brazen young girl from Hampshire. “You are content to have her as your wife,” she pronounced evenly, resolved to confront the truth.

  He crouched down before her, and with imploring eyes of purest blue, sought her blessing. “Mother, will you not be happy for me? You know that this is what I have wanted. I fear I cannot contain my happiness; my life, I feel, will forevermore be full of light,” he breathed with honest fervor.

  Her icy stoicism melted at his earnest plea, and she reached out to caress his cheek. She saw before her the boy who had sacrificed and toiled for many years with little reprieve. “I will be happy for you, John. I’d give my life’s blood to see you happy,” she averred, swallowing the lump in her throat as she stared into his shining eyes. “Just give your old mother time to give up the first place in your heart that she has held so long,” she pleaded gently, bowing her head at her open admission. Unaccustomed to indulging in such outpourings of emotion, she felt the desperate tug of desire for him to assuage her vulnerability with some filial reassurance. But he was silent, unaware of the tremblings of enduring love within his mother’s breast.

  Falteringly, she brought her eyes to his again and saw the hope that burned therein. “I only hope that her love will be strong and true; that she will truly know how grand an honor it is to be chosen by you,” she declared. “She would be a fool not to know it,” she added defiantly as a small teasing smile slowly warmed her face.

  His chest ached at her words; his great love yearned for its fulfillment. But in the next instant, his child heart smiled back at his mother for her proud pronouncement.

  *****

  Margaret sat at the end of Bessy’s worn mattress in the dim alcove of the Higginse’s humble one-room dwelling. Propped up with faded linen pillows, Bessy sat with her arms lying limply on the thin gray blanket over her lap. Although she still gazed at her friend with worry, Margaret was relieved that today the hacking coughs were less in evidence.

  “Where’s Nicholas?” the welcome visitor asked, noting as soon as Bessy’s sister, Mary, had gone out on her errands that no one remained to tend to the sick girl.

  “Oh,” she replied in deflated weakness. “He’s gone out. I’ve never seen him in such a state, Margaret. Boucher were here and father was so fierce with him. Yo’ know about the riot at Thornton’s place, that what’s brought down the strike?” she asked wearily. Margaret nodded meekly.

  “It were the one thing the union was determined against. How many times, father shouted, did they explain that the only way to win the strike was to follow the law of the land and avoid acting like animals? Did yo’ hear that Boucher threw a stone at the Master that might have killed him?” she asked, her expression one of anguish.

  Margaret paled at her remark. She opened her mouth to speak, searching desperately within for what she should reveal. “Was Nicholas there, in the mob?” she demanded as a faint blush crept into her cheeks.

  “Not he, he’d ha’ given his right hand if it had never come to pass. He’s fairly knocked down in the mind by it all. Yo’ never saw a man so down-hearted as he is. It’s that that’s fretting me,” she answered with a hint of fear in her eyes. “The union men, father being one of the special committee, were ready to lay down their all to win as long as there was no going against the law. It’s all been ruined by the riot, and father lays the blame on such men as Boucher. He threatened to lead the police to his door, he did, and sent Boucher wailing for his life. I can’t take the hollerin’ and the anger, Margaret. It’ll do me in for sure,” she painfully confided.

  “Not all men are as strong as your father. Boucher was laid low. He had children to feed ...” Margaret began.

  “I know it, but father will not listen. I can hardly blame the poor fellows, but think of their foolishness, Margaret — they injured the Master! And it’s said his sister threw herself upon him, trying to protect him. It was madness,” she declared in distress.

  Margaret started at this revelation, never imagining that she should be mistaken for Mr. Thornton’s sister. Her pulse quickened as she considered what she had come to tell Bessy. “It was not his sister,” she replied quietly, her head bowed in embarrassment.

  Bessy gazed at her friend in amazement as she realized the truth. “Was it yo’, Miss Margaret?” she asked in a stupefied whisper.

  Margaret nodded before lifting her eyes to her friend’s. “I happened to be there on an errand. I tried to stop the violence, but it was no use.... Oh, Bessy! Was I so foolish to think I might save him?” she asked, her eyes revealing the depth of her conflicted emotion.

  Bessy studied her anguished expression with a dawning understanding. “I’m sure yo’ did what you thought best. But Margaret, if it is discovered that it were yo’ ...” she trailed off, not wanting to cause her friend any more shame.

  “It is of no import, Bessy,” Margaret softly reassured her friend. Lifting her head as she gathered her courage, she confided, “Mr. Thornton came today to offer his name.” Her voice was unsteady as she remembered how fervently he had done so. She met her friend’s eyes to determine her reaction.

  Bessy’s mouth hung open for a moment in stunned surprise. “Yo’ve accepted him, haven’t yo’?” she demanded anxiously, suddenly remembering that her friend was anything but conventional in her views or decisions.

  “Yes ... I did,” she answered, struggling to force the admission from her throat. She felt lost in a hazy confusion again, unable to discern why her heart pounded so strongly.

  Bessy leaned back against her pillows with relief. A satisfied smile began to brighten her face as she studied her friend in admiration. “Imagine ... yo’ll be the Master’s wife. I reckon yo’ll not set foot here again once yo’ve become so grand,” she proposed half in jest.

  “I most certainly will!” Margaret countered, jutting her chin in the air with determination. “Mr. Thornton will need to be accommodating to my alliances or he should choose a more suitable wife,” she declared somewhat tremulously, wondering truly if he would be tolerant of her bold habits and opposing viewpoints.

  “Yo’ll not need to quibble over the likes of me; I’ll soon be going to a better place. But how I wished I could see yo’ on your wedding day!” the weakened girl exclaimed wistfully.

  “Please, Bessy, don’t speak so,” Margaret gently chided. “I cannot think of a wedding at the moment. I can scarcely believe that I agreed to such an arrangement,” she confided, unable to hide her gnawing doubt.

  “Yo’ act like it were a hardship! There’s not a girl in town who wouldn’t give her eyeteeth to be in your shoes! Why, Mr. Thornton is the best catch in Milton,” Bessy chastised her.

  “So his mother once told me,” Margaret answered drolly, rolling her eyes.

  Bessy giggled at her response and the girls shared a laugh at Mrs. Thornton’s expense before Bessy erupted into a fit of coughing. Margaret rushed to comfort her, and soon the distressing spell ended.

  “Bessy, please don’t tell Nicholas. I will tell him ... later, when he is not so put out,” Margaret promised. Bessy nodded her compliance and Margaret smiled with grateful relief.

  “Shall I read a chapter to you now?” Margaret asked soothingly, hoping to help her friend rest.

  “Yes, read me more about the new heaven and ear
th,” Bessy requested weakly as she closed her eyes.

  And so Margaret read from Revelation in the drab surroundings of the simple home until her ailing friend drifted off to sleep.

  *****

  Seated at the head of the dinner table before his mother and sister that evening, Mr. Thornton smiled inwardly with satisfaction at the thought that someday in the not-too-distant future Margaret would daily grace their table with her ebullient presence. All day he had fought to constrain the buoyant wanderings of his mind — to no avail. The very thought of her filled him with a vibrant joy that could not be repressed. More than once he had found himself completely unaware of his surroundings at the mill, lost in a daze of wonder at her acceptance of him.

  Fanny quietly sipped her soup as she glanced at her quiet companions. She was certain her mother and brother would be content to utter only a few syllables during the course of the entire meal. If it were not for her, she mused impatiently, their nightly gathering would be a tedious bore.

  “Claire Lawrenson is back from Switzerland,” she announced airily. “Would that I could go to finishing school on the Continent,” she sighed enviously. Her comment met no response from her tight-lipped providers. She squared her shoulders in annoyance and resolved to relay the interesting news of her visit with the banker’s daughter.

  “Claire heard about the riot and was very concerned for my welfare. She quite surprised me with her eagerness to know how I had been so brave as to try to save you from the horrible mob,” she revealed with a knowing smirk as her brother snapped his head in her direction. “Of course, I told her that it was not I who had gone out amidst such animals,” she continued haughtily, enjoying the rapt attention of her family.

  “Naturally, I did not want to tell her the truth and reveal Miss Hale’s scandalous behavior, but she was so persistent upon knowing who it was that I could see no way to avoid it,” she explained defensively as she noted the ominous look in her brother’s eye. “I begged her not to tell a soul, and I’m sure she would not dream of it, for I believe she may have a tenderness for you, John,” Fanny added with a hinting smile. “So you see, Miss Hale’s reputation may remain unsullied after all, and you will not need to marry her,” she concluded triumphantly.

  Mrs. Thornton glanced uncomfortably at her son, who tightened his jaw with suppressed irritation.

  “I thank you for your concern for Miss Hale’s reputation, but the matter has already been put to rest. She has accepted my hand,” Mr. Thornton explained with a note of victory, the audible confirmation of this truth swelling him with pride and exalting satisfaction.

  Fanny let out an exasperated gasp. “Of course she has accepted you! Do you not see how you have fallen prey to her devices?” she asked pointedly with a measure of pity for her brother’s gullibility.

  Mr. Thornton grit his teeth and closed his eyes to maintain his composure, incensed at her presumptuous accusation. “I am certain she had no designs on me. She was impelled to act in a moment of great danger,” he postulated in defense of the woman he loved. “In any regard, it is of no import. I am well pleased to have her promise. It is just as I should have liked,” he confessed, his voice trailing off softly.

  Fanny studied her brother with growing fascination. He had never showed any interest in any girl before, even though she had suggested many of her acquaintances in recent years. She wondered how it was that Miss Hale’s southern graces had so easily won him over. “It is a pity you could not have found a Milton girl, John. Miss Hale seems to believe that we are not quite the thing compared to her grand London folk. Claire would appreciate your respected status here...”

  “The topic is not open for conversation, Fanny,” he curtly interrupted. “I will marry Miss Hale,” he pronounced with finality, giving his sister a piercing stare.

  Fanny’s mouth hung open at her brother’s vehemence and would have made a retort, but duly noted the look of warning her mother gave her from across the table. She wriggled to sit erect and consoled herself with the knowledge that she had tried to warn her brother of his vulnerability. A knowing smile played on her lips as she thought of how her brother, always so confident and commanding, had been completely ensnared by the brazen feminine charms of this newcomer.

  “I suppose she will expect a handsome engagement ring,” Fanny posed arrogantly as she calmly continued to sip her soup.

  A thoughtful expression softened Mr. Thornton’s features for a brief moment. This customary confirmation of betrothal had not yet occurred to him. “I don’t believe Miss Hale is the type to be impressed with displays of wealth,” he countered with a measure of confidence, indignant at Fanny’s implication.

  Fanny made a doubtful face and discerned a glimmer of reciprocal skepticism in her mother’s glance as her brother absently returned to his meal.

  *****

  Upon her return from Bessy’s that afternoon, Margaret heard the familiar voice of her godfather as soon as she stepped in the door. Reluctant to become the subject of conversation, she nevertheless walked to the parlor where Mr. Bell and her father were conversing.

  “Margaret!” Mr. Hale gladly welcomed her, as both men rose from their seats. “Mr. Bell has come to pay us one more visit before he returns to Oxford tomorrow. I could not help revealing to him your recent good news,” he confessed with a beaming expression that gave Margaret’s heart a small twist.

  “My dear, I wish you every happiness,” Mr. Bell warmly congratulated her. “I must say I am surprised at how swiftly this has all come about,” he gently probed with an inquiring gaze. Margaret parted her lips as if to speak, but could find no explanation coming forth.

  “No matter, my dear,” he reassured with a friendly grin. “I have little doubt that you are well-suited to each other, despite your differing viewpoints,” he postulated, noting her embarrassed confusion at his assessment. “In fact, I am quite convinced you may do Mr. Thornton a world of good. I believe you will coax his gentler tendencies to the surface. Very soon we may find you have vanquished his hardened opinions with your endearing compassion.”

  Dixon entered the room and dutifully placed the tea tray on the table. Margaret began at once to pour tea for the men as the stout servant retreated to attend to her mistress.

  Mr. Bell turned his attention to Mr. Hale as they seated themselves. “A more serious man I’ve never met. Why, I saw him in the street late this morning and scarcely recognized him. He bore such a pleased expression as I have never witnessed before. I’m certain he was returning home from his visit here. He is obviously quite taken by your daughter, Richard,” he mused.

  “I was not aware of his interest,” Mr. Hale confessed with renewed bewilderment.

  Margaret’s hand shook slightly as they spoke. She struggled to believe that she had such a profound affect upon him, as she had never done anything to win his affection, their usual interactions always having been fraught with discord.

  Upon giving the gentlemen their tea, Margaret listened quietly as their conversation eventually turned to the recent turn of events in Milton’s economy. The mills would resume production as normal now that the strike was at an end.

  “I’m much relieved that Thornton was not seriously hurt,” Mr. Bell remarked upon the course of discussing the outbreak of the riot.

  “Why, whatever do you mean?” Mr. Hale demanded with evident concern.

  “It is reported that Mr. Thornton took a blow to the head whilst trying to quell the mob at his mill. It was a remarkably reprehensible act as his sister was said to have been with him, endeavoring to protect him,” the Oxford visitor relayed, his brow knit with seriousness.

  Margaret shifted in her seat uncomfortably, attracting Mr. Bell’s observant gaze to her face, which was now ashen with trepidation.

  “He did not say a word about it,” Mr. Hale exclaimed with some confusion.

  “No, of course he would not. He is a very private man,” Mr. Bell responded.

  “And to think, Margaret,” Mr. Hale beg
an as he looked to his daughter wonderingly, “that was the very day you went to Marlborough Mills, wasn’t it? How grateful I am you were spared being caught up in such violence,” he finished with a grave expression.

  Margaret made no reply, but bowed her head in flustered anxiety as a steady blush crept over her neck and stained her cheeks.

  Mr. Bell regarded his goddaughter intently as a flash of insight suddenly shed a new light on the logic of events. He smiled inwardly at this fascinating revelation but, to Margaret’s great relief, mercifully evaded delving into any further discussion on the incident. Instead, the perceptive visitor deftly turned the conversation to the prospect of Milton’s economic recovery from the strike.

  *****

  As she lay in bed that evening, the clouds of doubt began to gather in Margaret’s mind. Despite assurances from everyone that she should be pleased with her engagement, or perhaps because of them, Margaret felt the binding cords of obligation tightening around her until she found her breath quickening with a creeping panic. What had she done?

  What did she truly know of Mr. Thornton? She had thought him hard and unyielding in his dealings, yet he had spoken to her with such tenderness of feeling that she had been left breathless in stupefying wonder.

  How was it that he had chosen her, when he had never before shown an interest in marrying? It baffled her to think that he cared for her, when she had never shown him especial attention. In fact, she had been certain that they were quite at odds with each other, having never agreed on any topic of conversation.

  But he had professed his love for her with such conviction that she had been tempted to believe it. She closed her eyes and felt her body shiver at the memory of how his words had caressed her, beckoning her to find soft comfort in his care.

  She had believed him. Whether or not his love could be true, she was not certain. But for one moment she had believed him, and something within her had answered him.