“Well, Miss Hale,” Henry, who had returned to formality when John had appeared, gathered his papers to depart. “I cannot stop an inquest at this point, but I can insist that I be present to defend you. I have already drafted a letter to Mr Mason, asking him to defer some days so that I may gather information. Davenport I intend to visit right now, to have that same conversation. I might recommend that you do not speak to the inspectors alone any further.” He leveled an accusing glance at John, as though blaming him for not taking up constant residency in her drawing room during this crisis.
“Also,” he continued with a measure of forced cheer, “I hear things at the club. Nothing of substance, usually, but I will keep a sharp ear about me. Many of us have our suspicions about that account the Drapers drew the money from, but of course we have no evidence. It is likely that it will come to nothing, but it cannot hurt to look into it.”
“Lennox,” John came forward, extending his hand. “I thank you for your efforts. I understand this is an unlikely situation in which to find yourself, but Margaret trusts in you. I am grateful to you, sir.”
Henry checked himself, then hesitantly took John’s hand. His voice was gruff and uncertain when he replied. “Take care of Miss Hale, sir.” He departed quickly, without looking over his shoulder as the door closed behind him.
Margaret scowled at him rather convincingly. “You needn’t have glared quite so menacingly, John.”
He turned to her, somewhat shame-faced. “Was I truly such an ogre?”
“I thought I was looking at your mother for a moment!”
“That was harsh, Margaret,” he pouted, a boyish gleam in his eye. “Come now, I am sure this Henry Lennox is a decent enough fellow. Forgive me, Love, but we primitives have to make our presence felt from time to time. I suppose I was a little unfriendly at first.”
She lifted her chin scornfully. “A little! We are fortunate he did not leave immediately!”
He tugged her close, startling a little laugh from her. “Indeed. And I suppose I cannot blame the man for losing his heart to you. I hope for his sake he will recover without medical intervention. For myself, I fear it is a terminal condition, and I shall need daily treatments for the rest of my life.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
The atmosphere in Milton became steadily more strained. Nicholas Higgins had begun reporting regularly to Thornton, justifying the exchange of information by stating flatly that he was looking out for “Miss Marg’et’s int’rests”. Indeed, there appeared good cause for concern.
Margaret could not leave the house without feeling herself the focal point of public disdain. Working class families who had been friendly with her before now refused to meet her eyes. Middle class men and women would openly sneer at her, and more than once she heard loudly voiced comments behind her back. After two heartrending forays into town, Margaret tearfully vowed that she would not stir abroad again until the paper had vindicated her.
The very next day, however, she could not remain home to pace her own house alone, and so she set off once more for the Higgins’ residence. She disliked being seen walking to Marlborough Mills just now. Though John dismissed her concerns as paltry, she could not bear the thought that her own public excoriation might extend to him. It was bad enough for Higgins that he had been seen with her! He was close-lipped about it, but she knew that he had hotly assailed at least one group of workers whispering about her. What they had been saying, she could only imagine, but she felt badly that he had become involved at all.
Mason had not come again, to her relief. Apparently Henry’s legal missive had done its work, for she received a note from Mr Davenport stating only that they were gathering evidence and would inform her of the date of the inquest. Margaret’s fears, however, only continued to grow.
She was not fool enough to think that Mason had abandoned his line of questioning. Were she in his place, she would scarcely have done less! Her answers looked incriminating, and there was no denying it. So worried was she that she had even prevailed upon John not to visit her for a few days, and even to delay the reading of the banns.
He had accepted her mandate with as little grace as might be expected, but what was he to do against her determination? He had troubles enough of his own, for he was beginning to receive replies to his employment inquiries. None were encouraging. He had known he would need to be patient, but he had hoped for a little more favour from the other industrialists within his circles.
Thus, it was with the most profound humility that he stood to one side and watched Watson, his future brother-in-law, draw acclaim and widespread ovation as his rail speculation bore fruit. Overnight, Watson’s investors had nearly tripled their original outlay, and Watson himself was declared a financial wizard. Chagrined though he was, Thornton looked ahead now with some measure of hope. Perhaps after their good fortune, those who could not be prevailed upon to lend a farthing might be more openhanded with their purses and their plans to expand their businesses.
It was not to be. The hospital fraud, the loss of Marlborough Mills, and the stagnant economy in general had touched more than one chord within the city. Those with money clutched it all the more tightly, while those without grew louder and more desperate. The Weaver’s Union was on the verge of an unprecedented January strike over Hamper’s and Slickson’s slipshod hiring of his former workers, and the unceremonious layoffs of others. It was unlikely that they would be able to agree even on the strike, however, as there was so much infighting that nothing was ever settled upon.
Ten days after the headlines about the hospital fraud first broke, he collapsed wearily into his old desk in the mill. He had not been up to his office since the day of the explosion. Achingly he massaged his sore ribs. He was mending, though not nearly fast enough for his taste.
He squinted his eyes, casting them over the silent machinery down below. Everything was at a standstill, yet the world was marching on without him. He had never in his life felt so impotent, so shackled by his circumstances. As a youth struggling to cast off his father’s shadow, he had a clear adversary. The blight upon his prospects, the pall cast over his mother, had galvanized his resolve into something tremendous and productive. Anger had evolved into ambition, and that driving compulsion had powered him for sixteen years.
Now… he released a long breath. He felt old. No, not quite old. Not young, either. He still itched to work, to make, to do with his hands! He longed to continue striving against the careless life of ease he had forever disdained. The complacency of middle age loomed before him though, and the allure of domestic comfort was a siren call to his maturing manhood. His highest purpose, if he were completely frank, was a quiet family life with Margaret by his side, his mother delighting in her grandchildren, and many years to reap the rewards of his early labours. He pressed his fingers into his eyes. If only there were something left of all he had wrought!
Even his reputation had failed him. No one was looking for what he had to offer, and even if they were, they would think twice before taking him on. His hiring of the Irish workers all of those months ago caused unease among masters and workers alike, none of whom would savour any immediate struggles of the kind.
He would never confess as much to Margaret, but he also sensed that some of her fears were justified. Their relationship had not gone completely unnoticed, despite her dashed precautions. What doubt had been cast upon his character he could not say, but the bright hope of readily finding some other suitable employment had already met an untimely demise.
Not for the first time, he began to wonder what his options with Hamilton truly were. If he signed the blasted employment contract and married Margaret anyway, what could the man do to him? He might remain with the mill- his mill- but he would see it suffer under the direction of a fool. The next five years of his life would be consigned to another, but at the end at least some of his debts would be satisfied. Had it not taken that much time and more the first time he tunneled from un
der the dark burden of debt?
He rose at last, surveying what was left of his domain with a final parting look. No matter the cost, he did not trust Hamilton, and could not commit himself to the contract. He and Margaret would simply have to continue in their patience, praying that in the end, all would be set right.
~
Margaret had a few letters from Henry, all assuring her that he was doing what he could from London and would be returning to Milton for the inquest. She could not understand why the date had not yet been set, as the inspectors had seemed so intent upon it to begin with. The papers still shouted forth their empty snippets of progress in the case, but more often than not, Margaret still found her name listed among the primary leads back to the Drapers.
Oh, how she ached for John during those days! She had come to crave his touch, to take her sustenance from his well-loved voice in her ears and her heart’s revival from his secure arms wound tightly around her. How was it that one person, once so foreign and incomprehensible to her, had so completely possessed her inmost being?
This present forcible separation was costing her much rest. Her appetite was gone entirely, and her only waking thoughts were to find some way to resolve this whole despicable affair and get back to John’s embrace where she belonged. Her father and Dixon both clucked over her with worried frowns, but Margaret brushed off their concerns without explanation.
She valiantly fought to be strong and patient, unshaken by the tides of fortune- much as she pictured John might have been as the newly christened head of his family- but inwardly, she was disconsolate. If this, she once thought mournfully, was even the slightest measure of the agony she had inflicted upon him at her first refusal, she was indeed the most wretched of women!
It was more than a week since she had last seen John. She lingered in her drawing room this morning, her eyes blurred with feeling, remembering the first time he had kissed her in here… and the last… and each tender touch in between. She bowed her head, her shoulders shaking.
A short while later, Dixon thumped into the room. “Miss,” she interrupted kindly, “that inspector fellow is back.”
Margaret sniffed, wiping her eyes and trying to compose herself. Henry had cautioned her against speaking with the inspector alone, but anything was better than this hopeless waiting! Perhaps Mason brought news. John thought him an honest enough man in general, did he not? She drew herself up. “Show him in, please, Dixon.”
Mason entered with due courtesy. “Good morning, Miss Hale.”
“Good morning, Inspector. Have you any new information on the case?” Her voice trembled with the faintest hint of eagerness, and she clenched her nails into her palms.
“Perhaps, Miss Hale. May I?” He gestured to a seat, and Margaret readily assented. This was going to be a serious conversation indeed! Tense with apprehension, she took a seat herself.
“I have been in touch with your attorney, Miss Hale. He has provided a number of character references, which certainly aid in your defence.”
Her lids lowered in a tightly controlled approximation of a nod. “He has kept me informed, sir.”
“Yes.” Mason drew a written statement from a leather portfolio he carried. “I have reviewed the information your attorney sent us with Mr Davenport and Mr Crawley. They feel as I do, Miss Hale,” he paused to ensure her full attention. “We feel that against the weight of this case, these general statements- excellent as they are- are not sufficient to clear your character.”
Margaret nearly sagged in disappointment, but caught herself. “I do not understand, Mr Mason. What capability or motive could I possibly have had to participate in such a scheme?”
“There is always a motive where that much money is concerned, Miss Hale! We feel that when combined with your previous reticence- I apologize, Miss Hale, but it was necessary to lay what I knew before my associates- we feel that there is enough cause to suspect that you may have long possessed more knowledge of the particulars than you claim.”
“That is preposterous!” she cried. “My mother had only just passed away! What manner of corruption could I have possibly entertained?”
He cleared his throat. “Miss Hale, we all have superiors to whom we must answer. If we do not perform our duties faithfully, we betray the public’s trust. I have to consider all options here.”
She cooled, lifting her chin. “What more do you require then, Inspector? There must be some specific assurance you desire from me, or you would not have come here today.”
His mouth twitched. “I need you to prove my suspicions unfounded.”
Margaret gazed back in that open, quiet way of hers, forcing him to reveal more without speaking herself.
“Miss Hale,” Mason continued, “as I mentioned, I grew suspicious that you were covering something several months ago, but I am willing to concede that it may indeed have been of a personal nature and wholly unconnected to all of this. In interviewing other witnesses, one in particular gave a statement which could either acquit or convict you. It depends on you.”
Margaret’s eyes narrowed, but she held her tongue. She was beginning to learn the power of silence, and she was determined that this experienced agent would not draw more from her than she willingly confessed.
“What is the true nature of your relationship with Mr Thornton?” Mason asked bluntly. “I would ask you to clarify that for me, Miss Hale.”
She blinked, her lips parted, but she hesitated. What was his purpose in asking such a question?
“More to the point,” he continued, accurately reading her indecision, “if you truly are innocent of wrongdoing, Miss Hale, Mr Thornton need not protect you as he has done. It looks to others as though you and he both know something dangerous. Now, I have a very credible witness with a clear testimony who is willing to swear that your connection to the fraud was truly blameless, as you claim, but only if you relinquish ties to Thornton.”
She stared, incredulous. “Pardon me?” she scoffed. “Why, what could you hope to prove by such a request?”
“That your relationship with Thornton is also innocent. My witness had no hesitation in confirming that you had only recently become acquainted with the Drapers, but the discovery of a prior incident in your recent history cast doubts once again. We do not know,” he raised his brows with the air of one giving instruction, “the full extent of this scandal. We know there had been much planning and there are certainly others involved.
“It looks bad to my superiors, Miss Hale. If I can prove that you and Thornton also are mere passing acquaintances and have no serious ties, I can satisfy their questions and I will be able to persuade my witness to swear to your innocence.”
“I cannot believe this!” she cried, her shock and grief turning painfully in her stomach.
“It makes sense,” Mason shrugged, but not without feeling. “I would hate to have to call Mr Thornton’s honour into question just now. Traumatic event like a boiler sabotage… financial ruin… there are the more suspicious among my superiors who might make unwarranted accusations against him, Miss Hale,” he finished softly.
With sudden clarity, Margaret’s eyes flashed and her cheeks grew livid. “Your witness is Mr Hamilton, is he not?”
Mason paled, shrinking somewhat. “I am not at liberty to reveal that information.”
“Yet he is at liberty to manipulate me!” she snapped, her bitter anguish goading her temper. “He is a coward, hiding behind his veil of anonymity and leaving a lady exposed to his derision!”
Mason straightened, adjusting his cravat nervously. “Mr Davenport also found the condition on the statement reasonable. We would not ask our witness to pledge in all confidence without allowing him to confirm that he had not overlooked some crucial detail.”
“Mr Mason, you are being used!” she pronounced contemptuously. “Mr Hamilton is moving you about a chess board, and you have proven a most obliging pawn.”
“Miss Hale, these accusations a
re out of line!” he objected. “I have a witness whose testimony is strong enough to clear your name, allowing us to avoid the inquest and publicly vindicate you! All we ask is that you demonstrate by a show of good faith that you are not involved in any sort of secrecy. Distance yourself from Mr Thornton, and they will credit your word as the truth!”
Margaret rose, her wrath causing her to compose herself with all stately grace rather than to fly into a fury. “Mr Mason, I believe you should go now.”
He gesticulated his frustration with this stubborn woman and stood, frowning and shaking his head. His countenance at once turned to something more humane.
“Miss Hale, I am serious,” he almost pleaded. “Davenport means to investigate Thornton if he cannot first clear you. He will find nothing- you and I both know it- but I would not see his good name destroyed! I have too high a regard for Thornton, and I suspect you do as well.”
Margaret paused, her façade crumbling. “What must I do?” her voice quavered.
Mason looked her directly in the eye. “Leave town, Miss Hale, in a modest way. Find some ailing relative to visit- something plausible and not extravagant, lest it be wondered where you obtained the funds. Let this all quiet down, but for mercy’s sake, do not be seen with Thornton! Do not even correspond with him if you can help it, for you may be assured that you are both being carefully watched.”
Margaret’s eyes flooded once more and her throat closed up. She could scarcely speak, but in her suffering she choked out, “We are to be married!”
Mason closed his eyes and drew a remorseful breath. “I am sorry, Miss Hale, though I suspected it to be the case. I will keep that much to myself, but the fact remains that at present, you can only harm him. Come back and marry the man later, if you must, but bide your time for now. I wish I could do more for you, Miss Hale.”
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