Northern Rain

by Nicole Clarkston

  “Nonsense, darling!” Genevieve caught Margaret’s hand and forced her unwilling friend to rise. “We so wish to hear you! Margaret studied in London,” she informed her guests, with a sly look in Thornton’s direction.

  “Oh, but it was so long ago, and I did not play well even-”

  “It is all right, Margaret,” Genevieve assured her. “You have played in public before, you said- at your cousin’s wedding, is that not right?”

  “But I have not played since,” Margaret objected softly. She looked about to her father for assistance, but he had not yet returned. “Oh, please, Genevieve. Surely, you are so very much more talented than I!”

  “Do come, Miss Hale,” Rupert joined his sister. “After all, one of your taste cannot possibly disappoint. Do play something for us!”

  Margaret was maneuvered artfully to the front of the room, still hanging back and now turning a succession of pinks and crimsons. “Please,” she begged once more, “I have quite forgotten….”

  “Miss Hale,” Thornton at last stepped forward, hoping to save her. He came close and bent near in a low murmur, just loud enough for Genevieve and Rupert to overhear. “Your father passed by me a moment ago, and I noticed that he is looking rather unwell. I think perhaps he is quite fatigued. Would you like me to call for a cab so that you might not have to walk home?”

  Margaret at last took a breath. She looked up to him with such profound gratitude that he almost felt he had succeeded in washing away their earlier argument. “That would be most appreciated, Mr Thornton,” she sighed. “I thought he looked ill myself, but he assured-”

  “I will call for one straightaway.” He turned about briskly, not wishing to allow her to elaborate on her father’s prior dismissal of her concerns. Had she, in her outright honesty, continued so, her excuse for not playing would evaporate.

  Later that night, alone in his bed, he would reflect back on that thought. Margaret was frank and artless to a fault in all situations he had ever seen- save the one involving another man. That one circumstance was such an anomaly in contrast to the character he knew that it still baffled and tormented him.

  At this moment, however those ideas had yet to emerge. With only a word to Hamilton’s staff, the carriage was called for. Margaret had reclaimed her seat at her father’s return and was peering into his face with concern. She looked up at Thornton’s arrival.

  “The carriage will be but five minutes. There was a driver standing by,” he whispered.

  “Thank you,” she mouthed back. “And…” she flicked her eyes to the piano, which had been reoccupied by Mrs Draper, “... thank you.”

  He gave a quick nod. “Mr Hale, sir, may I help you with your coat?”

  Mr Hale, who had been listening to the music, gave a start. “My coat? Why, yes, I am rather weary, but Margaret, did you not wish to listen…?”

  “I am quite tired, Father,” she smiled and lovingly caressed her father’s arm. “I think it best that we take our leave.”

  Mr Hale looked both disappointed and relieved. “If you think so, but will we not offend our host? I never like to leave too early, it seems quite unsociable.”

  “It is rather late, sir,” Thornton assured him. “I intended to depart soon, myself.”

  “Oh. In that case, John, I would welcome your help.” Mr Hale rose unsteadily, supported by his daughter, and bade a good evening to his host. Margaret turned about her, doing what she could to properly bid each person a good night without disrupting the room’s enjoyment of Mrs Draper’s playing.

  The carriage arrived exactly as Thornton had promised- thanks, in part, to a generous tip supplied beforehand. He went down the walk with them and helped his friend to settle inside the carriage. He then turned to offer his hand to Margaret. She took it and turned her face up to his, her eyes reflecting a soft new shade in the pale moonlight.

  “Thank you again,” she spoke earnestly.

  He daringly squeezed the gloved fingers curving over his hand. “Think nothing of it, Miss Hale. I hope your father rests well tonight.”

  Her mouth quivered into a conflicted smile. “I expect he shall. Good evening, sir.”

  “Good evening, Miss Hale.” He supported her as she stepped inside, then closed the door behind her. The carriage rattled away, with shades drawn so that he could no longer see its occupants.

  He slowly mounted the steps again to the house. With the most interesting guest of the evening departed, the party held no further appeal. He resolved to collect his mother and sister to make their excuses as soon as he could gracefully do so.

  ~

  Mr Hale leaned wearily against the squabs of the carriage. “I know you are concerned, my dear,” he patted her hand, his eyes closed. “Fear not, I am quite well. I only slept so little these last nights. I am afraid it has caught up with me.”

  “Father, you look so pale! It is not like you. Are you sure we may not call the doctor?”

  “What did you learn of that charity, my pet?” he asked, by way of distracting her.

  “Oh, I had nearly forgotten. Mr Draper is trying to raise funds for a hospital in Milton. He is in need of someone with a fine hand to pen and mail letters to sponsors. I thought it might be something I could do from home, so that I would not be away much, but still something helpful.”

  Hale opened his eyes and gazed lovingly at his daughter. “So much like your mother… Maria… you always wished to do a good turn, did you not, my darling?” His eyes clouded and dropped closed again. “You were always so good to me, Maria,” he murmured.

  “Father,” Margaret’s voice raised a little in alarm, “it is me- it is Margaret!”

  “Yes, my girl,” Hale gently agreed, his eyes still closed. “So much like her. Always doing good to others.”

  “If that is so, my first good deed tomorrow shall be to call the doctor!” she asserted firmly.

  “For what need, my love? No, I am certain it is only the excitement of the evening. I did so enjoy everything, but I am weary now. I think I shall have to cancel tomorrow’s lecture at the Hall. Oh, I am glad it is not John’s lesson I shall miss! It was very good of him to arrange the carriage, was it not? It would be such a shame to miss John.”

  Margaret sighed. “Yes, Father, that would be a shame.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next morning found Margaret bent over her writing desk. She had only just finished a reply to Edith’s most recent letter, announcing their travel plans and imminent return to London. Margaret held up the envelope she had addressed with satisfaction. This was the first letter in some while which bore the familiar old Harley Street address. Perhaps when spring came she might be able to pay a visit- if her father were stronger by then. Her face clouded in worry.

  With a sigh of resignation, she turned her attention next to the musty old tome which lay at her elbow. It had been far too long since she had devoted any time to her own studies. She set to work, transcribing the ancient tongue in her own elegant hand.

  “Miss,” Dixon’s voice interrupted some while later. “There’s a gentleman to see you.”

  “Gentleman?” She set down her pen. “Show him in, please, Dixon.”

  Rupert Hamilton strode into the room, his smile radiant. “Miss Hale! How do you do today?”

  “Mr Hamilton,” she dipped her head. “I am well, thank you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I came to inquire after your father, naturally. I did not have an opportunity to bid you both a good night, as you had to leave so quickly. We were all rather concerned for Mr Hale. Is he well today?”

  “That is very kind of you, sir. He is not taking visitors today, but I expect he only needs rest. Will you be seated?”

  “Thank you, Miss Hale. I am not disturbing you, I hope?”

  “Not at all, sir. I am glad you have come, for I wished to call on Genevieve with my thanks for last evening, but I have been unable to leave my father today. May I offer you an
y refreshment?”

  “No, thank you, I shall not impose on you long, Miss Hale.” He glanced appraisingly about as he took a seat. “What a very comfortable room you have here! Ah, you have been busy writing, I see.” His eyes lit upon the writing desk, littered still with her labours of the morning.

  “Oh,” she glanced over her shoulder. “Yes, I was reacquainting myself with Cicero today.”

  “Cicero? I never had any head for Greek and all of that.”

  Margaret’s mouth twitched. “Latin,” she corrected gently.

  “There, you see! My classics teacher would be appalled, I am sure. The greatest day of his life was the day I left his tutelage. May I ask, Miss Hale, why you return to such a dreary task? Surely there are much better things to hold your interest.”

  “I enjoy the challenge. It is a puzzle of sorts. My father taught me that a mind must be disciplined, and such an exercise requires deep concentration. I also find that once I am satisfied with my translation, I have then the pleasure of ruminating over the wisdom of the great sages.”

  “But the world is moving forward, not backward, Miss Hale! What bearing can such ancient thought have on this modern age?”

  “A great deal, though I believe it fruitless to argue the point. I am sorry you found it so tedious, so perhaps we ought to speak of other things. My earlier task this morning was a letter to my cousin in London- I wrote that I had the pleasure of meeting you. I am sure she will mention it to her husband the captain, and his brother.”

  “Excellent! This world of ours is shrinking, Miss Hale- what a coincidence that we know some of the same people. I wonder how old Henry Lennox is doing.”

  “Edith tells me he is well,” she supplied hesitantly. “She has not seen him lately either, but he writes them.”

  “Well, Miss Hale, as I said before, the fellow spends most of his days in his office. He ought to marry- perhaps that would divert him from his work.”

  “Yes,” Margaret’s voice was scarcely above a whisper. “I suppose it would.”

  Rupert shrugged nonchalantly. “For all his disdain over my low-class roots, he is, in the end, little different from these Milton captains of industry. It must have been quite a shock to you, Miss Hale- coming here from the genteel south. How have you acclimated?”

  “Well enough,” she smiled. “I have come to appreciate the ingenuity and motivation which characterizes many of the people I have met here.”

  “Truly? I imagine such an appreciation was slow to develop! I would be curious to hear your initial impressions. How did the city- no, let me be more specific. How did the manufacturing crowd, say a man like Thornton, strike you at first?” He knit his fingers together and leaned back in his seat, his searching gaze resting upon her.

  “I… I think perhaps it would be ungenerous for me to repeat my first impressions. I have since had time to reconsider them.”

  Rupert laughed heartily. “You disliked him that much! I might have expected that, Miss Hale. He is quite different from what you would have known previously.”

  “That is to his credit,” she replied, a hint of loyalty rising in her tones. “Those attributes which make him unique among my previous acquaintance have served him well in his endeavours.”

  “Forgive me, Miss Hale, I had not meant to attack the man’s character. I have known Thornton, at least by reputation, since I was a boy, and he is a regular brick. I only wished to learn more of your own sentiments. Tell me, have you truly found satisfaction in our dirty old Milton?”

  “As much as anywhere, I think. I miss many things about my old home, but I am content to remain with my father. I have met a good number of interesting people here- aside from Mr Thornton,” she clarified, “and I find it a fascinating city.”

  “I heard,” he smiled, raising a brow, “that you had friends among the strikers. That is a very strange choice in friends, Miss Hale.”

  “They are not so very different than I,” she returned quietly.

  “I beg to differ, Miss Hale, but I should think they are!” he chortled in amusement. “They are largely a rough, uneducated lot. You, Miss Hale, are clearly a young lady of taste and sophistication. I wonder that you have anything at all in common with the working class!”

  “We are all the Lord’s children, are we not?” she inquired softly.

  He sobered at the dangerous flicker in her eyes. Margaret Hale might appear gentle and refined, but there was a regal iron in her which he had missed before. “Indeed, Miss Hale,” he replied after a pensive interlude. “Well… I am afraid I have lost track of the hour. You will give your father my respects?”

  “Of course, Mr Hamilton.” She rose, her bearing stately and poised. If he had had to guess, he would have assumed her to be greatly irritated with him, but, of course, that would have been mere conjecture. She tipped her chin up, icy formality returning to her tones. “Would you take my compliments to Miss Hamilton? Please tell her I shall call once my father has improved.”

  “I will,” Hamilton found his hat and began to make his escape. “Good day, Miss Hale.”

  ~

  “I wish I could help, Thornton,” Smith pulled the wire-framed spectacles from his face and dropped them unceremoniously on his desk. “We have already extended the loan and reduced your interest payment as much as possible. You have always been a good customer, but this,” he waved his hand over the papers arrayed on his desk, “is attracting the notice of my shareholders.”

  Thornton shifted in his seat, frowning. “The mill’s prospects are far from bleak, sir. Much has been invested in the future. To abandon all hope now would be a tremendous waste, and a sizeable loss to your institution.”

  “There are those among the board who feel that in economic times such as these, it is sometimes wisest to withdraw while we yet can.”

  “Mr Smith,” Thornton leaned forward, steepling his fingers, “Marlborough Mills is a proven profit generator. I challenge you to find another manufacturing plant in the region which is not still suffering ill effects from the strikes. Downturns in the market, particularly in winter, are not unknown either. It is but a season, sir, and will pass like every other has before it.”

  “Thornton, I respect your position, but you must also understand that the bank is a business as well. We must look to our own if we are to honour all of our other clients. Your mill has promise, I know, but you are also completely leveraged. Other mills with fewer financial obligations are quite simply a more attractive option for financing right now.”

  “Your board must realize, then, that we do not speak of equivalent operations. The collateral I have put against my obligations is far more valuable by comparison. Your institution is not the loser in this circumstance, Mr Smith.”

  Smith shrugged helplessly. “I am not the board, Mr Thornton. I was expressly forbidden to offer any further extensions on the loan. May I suggest that your better option is to search out an independent source of funds? Find a man of vision and deep pockets, like Hamilton. I am just coming to know the man, but I understand him to be the sort who might be interested in a share of your enterprise. I wish I could offer you something else, Thornton, but there is little more I can do.”

  Thornton pinched his lips into a tight line. “I understand. Thank you for your time, Mr Smith.”

  He collected his hat and began the long walk back to the mill. The disappointment burned at the pit of his stomach. He had most zealously hoped that the bank might see his point of view in the matter. He had never yet fallen behind on his loan, but it had been a near thing for the past few months. Twice now, he had been forced to pay partial instalments to make up each month’s crushing obligation.

  His mouth pressed into a frown. Things could not continue so. His buyers were falling ever farther behind with their own payments, and cotton prices had not dropped in goodness knew how long. There was always a dip in the winter as the great American warehouses sold off their less desirable stock, but such had n
ot been the case this year. He feared what that could mean for next year’s fresh cotton prices.

  To add to his present misery, a steady rain drizzled from his hat. Ducking his face somewhat, he thrust his hands within his caped coat and continued on his sullen way. If he had to walk in the rain, he could at least put himself in mind of the last time he had done so with any measure of enjoyment. The corner of his mouth twitched. How he might have wished for the comfort of Margaret and her umbrella today!

  Perhaps it was true that she could not have understood his immediate financial concerns as well as his mother, but her bright mind could have at least diverted him from his troubles for a time. She could have offered him some challenge to his thinking, as she so often did, and perhaps after turning her logic over in his mind he might have seen his own troubles more clearly. He sighed regretfully. It was a shame- a travesty, really- that the one woman so well suited for him bore him only Christian goodwill and nothing more. Still, it was a fair sight better than it had once been.

  “Thornton! I say, Thornton, you are cutting me rather sharply!”

  He halted abruptly and raised his head to identify the man who had addressed him. “Good afternoon, Rupert,” he answered civilly.

  “It looks as though I am going your way!” the younger man replied cheerfully. “Do allow me to join you, my good fellow.”

  Thornton tipped his dripping hat obligingly. “By all means. How does your family today?”

  “Oh! Mother has taken to her couch. She always does after a party, you know, but do not let on that I have told you as much. I expect it is the delicate constitution of her sex telling upon her, for surely it is an experience common to all fine ladies who entertain.”

  “Such has not been my observation,” Thornton commented mildly.

  Rupert laughed. “Mrs Thornton is the exception, of course! I believe none have quite her air of majesty,” he intoned gallantly.

  Thornton kept his head down as he walked, but he could not resist the point. “My mother is far from the only strong woman of my acquaintance,” he replied lowly.