“He cannot be serious!”
“I assure you, he is. You may, of course, choose not to marry me and simply wait for your inheritance. Perhaps you may in the end catch a finer husband by that method.”
She slanted a grave expression up to him. “I think I shall take my chances on my first choice. I think I would find a fine gentleman rather dull by comparison.”
“Indeed,” he flashed his most distracting grin, blue eyes twinkling his pleasure. “Did you plan to put up that umbrella, or shall I keep you here and kiss you in the rain without it?”
~
Gilbert Hodges did, as it turned out, receive the assurance he hoped for of Miss Hale’s satisfaction with her caller. When the couple he awaited returned to the house, they were sheltering intimately together under a single umbrella, laughing most indecorously, and both thoroughly drenched. His face twitching in discomfort, Hodges gestured for a maid to help Miss Hale with her cloak, but the gentleman had already assisted her by the time the girl arrived.
“Oh, Hodges!” Margaret came to him, breathless and- thank heavens- smiling. “Will you please ask if my cousin may join us? Mr Thornton and I wish to warm by the fire for a few moments.”
“Captain and Mrs Lennox are already awaiting you in the drawing room, Miss,” he informed her. “While you were out, Mr Henry Lennox called, and I believe he waits within as well.”
The couple traded serious glances. “Thank you, Hodges,” she replied distractedly.
Mr Thornton took her arm and looked down to her with such reassurance and comfort that Hodges felt himself to be intruding upon some private, wordless conversation. The young lady drew a breath, her courage bolstered, and he led her away.
And that, Hodges assured himself with some sorrow, will be the end of Miss Hale living in this house!
Chapter Forty
“Miss Hale, Mr Thornton,” Henry Lennox stood and greeted them tightly as they arrived together.
“Henry!” Margaret broke away from Thornton’s escort and came near. “Have you some news?”
He looked uncertainly to Thornton. “I do, Miss Hale. It will be all through the papers in the morning, but you may be relieved to hear of it a little sooner.”
Margaret turned over her shoulder to glance at John. “It must be good news from the way you speak!”
“Indeed. You knew, of course, that I have been acquainted with Rupert Hamilton for some while.”
Margaret froze, relieved to feel John’s hand slipping reassuringly over her shoulder. “I did,” she replied quietly.
“Well…” Henry, despite his discomfort at watching Margaret with her manufacturer, allowed something of a satisfied smirk. “It appears that he was also better acquainted with the Drapers than anyone had thought. It seems that he, and another connection of his in London- I shall not name him yet, as he also was someone I knew from the club- assisted them in setting up the fraudulent account. It is not yet known how much they gained by their assistance, but it appears to have been substantial.”
“Rupert!” Margaret cried in horror. “I would not have thought him capable of that!”
“I had my suspicions from the beginning, as did others who knew him, but of course nothing could be proven until the Drapers were found.”
“So they have been caught!” John exclaimed. “That is well. I was hoping that some justice might be served there. How was it done?”
“As to that, it was not so surprising. It seems that one of the more generous ‘donors to the cause’ was the wife of a rather prominent admiral. He took the offense personally. I am told his flag ship is quite fast,” Henry laughed.
The gentlemen all found some common ease in expressing their mutual gratification with the way matters had settled. Soon, however, an awkward silence ensued, to be broken at last by Captain Lennox. “Margaret,” he spoke, looking pointedly to Thornton, “I do not believe we have been introduced to your….”
Pride shining from her eyes, Margaret tipped up her chin. “Maxwell, Edith, this is my fiancé, John Thornton of Marlborough Mills.”
~
The following days were intense and joyous ones for John. Each sunrise brought him measurably closer to all that he had dreamed and hoped, and during the course of each day, new delights pressed around him. As the final week of his bachelorhood drew to a satisfactory close, he could only look ahead with eager anticipation. The freedom of his lifelong independence he would gladly trade for a loving yoke about his neck and upon his hand.
His first instinct had been to pack Margaret on the very first northbound train they could find, but better sense prevailed. He lingered with her in London only long enough to call it a polite visit with her family, and to obtain a particular item he most desired. He had been quite serious in his light-hearted threats to Margaret about a special license. She may have evaded the reading of the banns, he would remind her, but there was no reason he should have to wait yet another month to bring her home with him!
The visit was not all anxious delay. It was a gracious home in which to pass the time. Margaret took it upon herself to show him her favourite childhood nooks in that house where she used to retire to read, and he came to appreciate them quite as much as she. It was a mercy, he reflected at one point, that his sore ribs were less of a distraction than they had been previously.
On his second afternoon in the house, when the young Mrs Lennox and her child had retired for a rest and the captain was out on some business call, John caught Margaret firmly by the hand and led her from the library. She stared mutely at him as she followed, wondering what he could be about, until he drew her very pointedly to the music room he had just discovered.
“I believe, my darling, it is time to settle a debt,” he grinned.
She shrank, her face pinched unwillingly. “Oh, John, I do not think….”
“I shall turn the pages for you,” he promised with a sultry little pout. “Come, Margaret, it is just me, and you did give you word.”
“I never did!” she objected. “You only heard what you wished to hear, Mr Thornton.”
“And right now, Miss Hale, I wish to hear you play. Please?” he added, with that impossible grin of his.
Margaret groaned reluctantly and moved to the piano. She took a long while picking over the music, as Edith’s favourite selections were a great deal too complicated for her. At last, with an unhappy frown she scarcely bothered to conceal, she sat down to the instrument.
John settled himself at her side, anticipating an afternoon of pure enjoyment. With her first hesitant notes, however, Margaret proved that she had not, in fact, been misleading anyone. She was quite out of practice. Her cheeks grew ever more red as she fumbled through the piece, and as soon as she had finished, she hurriedly covered her face in mortification. “Are you satisfied?” she begged through her fingers.
“Not at all, Love,” he teased lightly. “You did not sing!”
“Oh, John, please! Do let it pass!”
“Slide over, Margaret. I shall take a turn, and you may sing for me.” John proved no more practiced than Margaret- in fact, he was considerably less so- but he was confident enough to laugh at himself. He frequently clutched his aching ribs, but could not be diverted from their fun. This, he thought happily to himself, is the joy that I shall find in life hereafter!
An hour later, a properly astonished Edith Lennox followed the discordant racket from her music room and found them nearly doubled over with mirth. Standing in the open doorway, she gaped in awe at her sober-minded cousin and that stern-looking manufacturer fellow. They were both in utter hysterics, with tears streaming down their faces as they systematically butchered the works of the great composers.
“Margaret!” she cried in horror. “I just had that piano tuned! How can it possibly sound so dreadful?”
This sent them into a new wave of laughter, until Margaret, recovering, assured her that no fault could be assigned to the piano.
�
��Well!” she gasped. “I have never heard you carry on so, Margaret. Milton must be a savage place indeed!”
Margaret and John stole guilty glances at one another. “Only the manufacturers,” Margaret answered with a perfectly straight face. It was some while before John could stop laughing again.
They stayed only two days more, though each day to John was as much torment as it was pleasure. He itched to be back in Milton, and moving ahead with all they had planned, but this time with Margaret among her family was precious to him. Henry Lennox, to his very great surprise, proved a most intelligent and agreeable fellow. His brother the captain was a less stimulating companion, and John had more than one occasion to marvel at Margaret’s abiding devotion to a woman so given to trivialities as Edith Lennox. At least it gave him great hope that she might also come to care for his own sister.
Mrs Shaw had finally emerged from her self-imposed seclusion, claiming that she was suddenly feeling quite herself again and begging her niece to forgive her the uncomfortable ailment which had kept her to her bed. Margaret accepted the renewal of her aunt’s affections with philosophy, if not genuine gratitude. Upon meeting the large, rough-looking tradesman from the North who was determined to carry off her niece, Mrs Shaw had found it necessary to again take very cautious care of her poor aching head. John saw very little of her through the remainder of his visit. He at first expected that circumstance might trouble Margaret, but later found that the avoidance of potential conflict had rather been a relief to her.
The very afternoon on which he at last obtained their marriage license, he whisked her to the train station to tearful good byes on the part of Edith, but a firm and purposeful farewell from Margaret. The former was quite heartbroken that John and Margaret did not intend a large ceremony for her to attend. Alas, as she had only recently discovered herself to be in an interesting condition, her husband the captain had prevailed upon her to delay their own visit to their Milton relations until a later date.
He handed Margaret into the rail car, grateful that it seemed likely they would enjoy the ride in privacy. It never occurred to him for a moment that he should not claim the comfortable place at her side, rather than the proper one opposite her. Her bright eyes smiled at him as he dropped his arm about her and pulled her head to his shoulder. “Are you warm enough, my love?” he murmured into her hair.
“I am now,” she answered, nestling contentedly into his arm. “John, did you write to Father yesterday?”
“Mmhmm,” was the inarticulate response.
“And he is expecting us? I feel badly that we have not returned sooner.”
“Bell is with him. From his letter, it sounds as though they have scarcely left the library since Bell arrived. I imagine it is your Miss Dixon who misses you the most.”
Margaret chuckled. “What of your mother?”
“You had her letter, did you not? I expect Fanny has kept her rather busy. Apparently my dear sister has decided that circumstances warrant a somewhat larger wedding than she had initially planned. Let us only hope she does not put it off to a later date! For Watson’s sake, naturally,” he added as an afterthought.
“Naturally,” Margaret smiled mischievously. “And what were you thinking for us, John?”
“The minister is meeting us at the railway station, of course,” he shrugged nonchalantly.
“I see,” her grin widened. “And did you think to arrange a bouquet for me?”
“Indeed I did, but I think it may be a few months yet before it is in bloom. I think I shall send to Hampshire for a few more rose varieties. What do you think, love?”
“I think you are going to have to be just a little more patient, John.”
“Nonsense! I have a mill to run, after all. You mustn’t delay, Margaret. Think of the mill!”
“Perhaps we could negotiate that,” she arched one brow.
He leaned close in interest. “I am listening.”
It might be noted that very little negotiating- or indeed verbal conversation of any kind- took place for quite some time.
~
It was not a happy town they returned to, but perhaps a hopeful one. Word had rapidly circulated that not only was Margaret Hale quite innocent in the recent scandal, but also that she was the means through which Marlborough Mills would soon be operational once more. This did much to secure the good opinion of the working class, and Margaret was stopped on the street whenever she ventured out.
The more well-to-do citizens as well began to seek her company, but for a somewhat more prosaic reason. In truth, they suffered from simple, morbid curiosity. Surely, they reasoned, a woman who could survive unscathed after public defamation, then emerge as an heiress betrothed to the most elusive bachelor in the city must be something interesting!
That Mr Hamilton, after being known to clash with her and seeing his son charged with the very crime which had slipped from her shoulders, had suddenly retired to his country home only added to the mystique. Thus, it was to her very great surprise that Margaret found herself to have gained a rather formidable stature in that town since she had left it. It would, in the end, prove rather useful.
“Margaret, my dear,” Mr Bell eased his creaking old body into a chair next to her at breakfast one morning, “have you thought more about that hospital?”
She set down her cup and regarded him quizzically. “How should I have?”
“Well, the authorities seized what remained of those funds,” he reasoned. “They were already earmarked for a set purpose. I think if someone were to come up with a workable plan for a real hospital, they might be persuaded to release them- at least, a small portion of them,” he smiled sardonically as he found his fork.
Margaret had straightened in interest. “Do you really think…? But who could do such a thing?”
Bell’s grey brows arched innocently. “Well, it ought to be someone of good repute, of course. I should think after that last debacle that it will be difficult to take up the project again. And too, it should be someone with some resources of their own they may pledge, as a sign of good faith.”
“That is true,” she mused. “I wonder if any such can be found!”
“My child, I speak of you!” coughed the old man.
Her eyes grew large. “Of me! Oh, no, I could not possibly! Why, where would I even begin?”
“Marlborough Mills is not my only property,” he shrugged. “I’ve a warehouse over on Raleigh Street. The rent is in arrears, and the current tenant scarcely uses half of the warehouse as it is. My agent has already asked him to relocate. It occurs to me that you might remodel the building.”
Her eyes kindled in wonder, but just as quickly her brow furrowed in disappointment. “I do not know how we should make the rent. Surely, it will be difficult enough to make a beginning as it is, and it will cost a great deal to go on from there! Perhaps one day….”
“Margaret,” he interrupted brusquely, “you and Thornton can be both so insufferably diffident in some matters! Did you not remember that it is all to become yours eventually? What matters it whether I allow you to use it rent free? No, perhaps I shall simply sign it over now. Yes, that will do. I did tell you, did I not, that I received a sizeable payout after that rail speculation? Well! Where should an old bachelor like myself spend that much money?”
“Mr Bell,” she objected, “I cannot even consider it! You have done too much already, and I should be dreadfully unqualified to take on such a task! I know nothing of the proper management of such an establishment.”
“Come, my dear, surely you know of some competent doctor hereabouts. He will have to volunteer, of course- they always do- but you will be able to keep him in comforts for his trouble, I daresay.”
This gave her pause. Slowly she acknowledged that she did, in fact, know of a worthy doctor who might be persuaded to take up the project.
“Well, then it is settled. You shall be the public figurehead, raising support and donating the us
e of your property, and you shall allow this doctor of yours to oversee the details. I hope, my dear, that he is an honest chap and not some quack like that Douglas fellow.”
“Why, he is, but… Mr Bell, really, I do not know if I have the head for such an undertaking!”
“You will do, my dear. You are clever and sincere, and I think you currently enjoy something of a benevolent notoriety in this town. You may as well make use of it.” Bell began to cough gently again and took up his tea.
Margaret was still looking somewhat thunderstruck at the idea. She gazed blankly at the table, her mind whirring with all manner of new prospects. At last she shook her head gently. “It is a wonderful idea, Mr Bell, but my time and energies shall be no longer my own. I would have to talk all of this over with John, and he has enough to occupy two or three of him with the rebuilding of the mill! I think he would prefer that I did not take this up just now.”
Bell waved his cup. “If you want to do this thing, Margaret, Thornton will be the last to say you nay. It will be your mother-in-law who will give you the most trouble.”
Margaret smiled. “She is not quite so fearsome as you think!”
Bell grunted. “So you say, but I shall continue to maintain a safe distance.”
Margaret chuckled gently, but a moment later stilled when her father came into the dining room. His gnarled hands smoothed down the front of his best suit and he looked to his daughter with a tearful, radiant joy. Margaret drew a deep, final breath, and rose to take his arm.
“Are you ready, my dear?” he asked softly.
Margaret’s own eyes filled with tears. She pressed her lips into a trembling smile and nodded. “Yes, Father.”
Mr Hale raised quaking fingers to squeeze the hand wrapped over his elbow. “I have prayed for this day since you were born, Margaret,” he choked. “First that it would never come, but then that it should be just as it is. John….” His voice failed him and he merely clasped her hand tightly as the tears fell.
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