Margaret of Milton

by Elaine Owen

  "Truly?" Thornton raised an eyebrow as he looked at his mother, wondering why she had hesitated to share this with him. Watson and his sister had been courting for some time.

  "Fanny told me about it last night. No doubt Watson will speak to you later today for your consent. It is a good, sensible match, one that will do our family proud."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Watson is older than your sister but he is well established in life. He will be able to provide for her, and he seems to be genuinely fond of her. He will do very well for our Fanny."

  Thornton considered this briefly. "How does Fanny feel about him?"

  "She is pleased with herself at being able to secure such an eligible suitor."

  "That does not answer my question. Is she attracted to Watson, or to his purse?"

  Hannah stiffened, raising her chin imperceptibly. "Fanny has always known it is her responsibility to pair herself with someone who can add stability and security to the family." She paused. "At least she is not averse to performing her duty for the Thornton name." She leveled a stern look at her son.

  Thornton set down the teacup he was holding. "Mother!"

  "John, it is time you followed your sister's example and found someone to marry."

  He sat up straight, looking at his mother incredulously. So this was the reason for her visit today. "You said you were dreading the day that I marry and you have to give way to another woman!" he protested.

  "I do, in some ways," she admitted. "But I will not be selfish with you. I would rather see you settled with someone who makes you happy than spending your days pining away after someone not worthy of you, someone who cannot possibly begin to appreciate the man you are – that Hale girl!"

  There it was. Thornton winced as the words hit home. His late hours in the office, his restless nights and uneasy days had not gone unnoticed. Hannah knew that he had not been able to get Margaret Hale out of his mind, even months after she rejected him. What was worse, she had broken their vow never to mention her name between them again. "I am not pining away for Miss Hale, Mother!" he said tersely.

  "You have not been yourself since the day she rejected you, and it is time you put her aside," Hannah continued, relentless. "You could have your pick of any girl in town. Anne Latimer, for instance. She seems amiable enough and she lights up whenever you are around. And her father is a banker. Your banker, in fact. You could do much worse."

  Thornton looked at his mother indignantly. "I will not marry a woman simply to bolster our family fortunes!"

  "Of course not. But you are not getting any younger. You should do as Fanny has done. Find someone who is fond of you, someone suitable whom you can respect and admire in return. In time affection will surely grow."

  Thornton's hands tightened as he unconsciously gripped the edge of the desk. A sharp, almost physical pain stabbed his heart as the image of Margaret's face, with its ethereal beauty, came unbidden to his mind. Affection? Respect? He felt so much more than that for her. He felt devotion, passion, and a desperate need to worship at her feet. He wanted to love her, to give her everything inside him and to see inside her heart as well. He had no interest in an affection that might grow over time, when love had already consumed his soul.

  "Your sister will be married in six weeks. I want you to promise me that you will find someone to escort to her wedding, someone you could consider marrying when the time is right."

  Thornton kept his voice low, controlled. "I will make no such promise."

  "Not even for my sake?" Hannah leaned forward in her chair. Disappointing his mother was one of John's deepest fears, and she was not averse to playing on that fear now. "It would relieve my mind to know that you are at least trying to move on. I want to see you happy. Will you not do this thing for me?"

  Thornton closed his eyes, trying to block Margaret's face from his mind. His mother was relentless once her mind was made up. Better to let her think she had won a small victory than continue to battle with her. Besides, perhaps she was right. The best way to exorcise Margaret from his mind might be to fix his attentions on someone new. He let the corners of his mouth quirk up as he opened his eyes and looked back at Hannah.

  "Very well, Mother. As soon as my schedule permits I will call on Miss Latimer, and I will ask her if I may escort her to the wedding. In the meantime, I have work to do. Give Fanny my congratulations, and tell her not to bankrupt me at the draper's when she goes shopping for her wedding clothes!" Hannah nodded and gave a small, satisfied smile in return. She had won her point.

  But a few minutes later, as Thornton watched his mother leave the room to go walk the factory floor, he clenched his fists tight in defiance. "When I marry," he whispered fiercely to himself, "if I marry, it will be for love and nothing less!"

  ∞

  A week later Thornton strode purposefully through the crowded streets of Milton as he made his way towards the post office. The weather was clear this morning but there had been several days of hard rain, so this was his first opportunity to get away from Marlborough Mills in some time. He moved swiftly past pedestrians on both sides of him, stepping mechanically around those who did not move as rapidly or smoothly as he. After mailing letters for his mother he would be off to meet Watson to discuss the marriage settlement for Fanny, and then he had a meeting at the bank. His eyes were fixed straight ahead and his mind was on the rising cost of cotton and the expenses of his sister's wedding, not on Margaret Hale or her father. Therefore he did not observe those two people on the opposite side of the street from him, ready to cross over to his side of the busy avenue.

  Margaret and Richard Hale were picking their way through the Milton streets as best they could, considering Mr. Hale's age, the thick mud everywhere, and the many carriages passing by. Margaret chided herself for not stopping to put on her heavy outdoor boots, feeling the mud building up on the shoes she used for daily wear. It was difficult to find her own footing in the flimsy gear, let alone to support her father's less sure form. Still, her father had insisted on taking this outing with her when he knew she was going to mail a letter to Frederick. He could not bear to wait at home to see if there might be a letter already waiting for him from his beloved son, or perhaps a message from one of their other relatives.

  Father and daughter clung together as an omnibus went by, its wheels splashing mud in all directions; then they made a dash for it across the street, Margaret supporting her father as much as possible. They stepped up from the street and onto one of the few sidewalks in town just in time to avoid another carriage that threatened to run them down. In their haste they nearly collided with a particularly tall, thin gentleman striding along in a black suit, looking neither to the left nor the right.

  ∞

  When Thornton realized he had nearly run down some poor souls trying to escape the filth of the street he pulled up abruptly, ashamed of his own poor manners. He was about to apologize when he looked down at the two people he had jostled. Then recognition swept over him. His cheeks flushed with color as he took in Margaret and her father.

  "John! What an unexpected pleasure, meeting you here!" Hale beamed up at his pupil with genuine good will, careless of the near collision.

  "Mr. Hale, Miss Hale," Thornton replied, tipping his hat. "I beg your pardon. Good morning to you both." He gave Margaret as much of a nod as good manners required and then turned his attention entirely to her father. It was impossible to ignore Margaret when they were standing so close, but he would not give her the pleasure of seeing him discomfited by their unexpected meeting.

  "We were just on our way to the post office," Hale said, delighted to see his student again. "Margaret has a letter to post and I insisted on accompanying her. The rain has kept us inside, you know."

  "The post office is my destination as well," Thornton replied, keeping his eyes firmly on his former tutor. Margaret was standing quiet and watchful, her hands clasped together in front of her. Her eyes were slightly downcast, her expression polite but di
stant. "After I mail these letters I have another errand."

  "Perhaps you would agree to walk with us, so we can talk along the way?" Hale suggested. "You and I have not had a good visit in weeks."

  "It would be my pleasure," Thornton answered automatically. Instantly he regretted his words. What was he thinking? He was trying to forget Margaret, not to be thrown into her company! His mother would never forgive him if she heard that he had spent any time in her presence. And news of this encounter would get back to her, since they were in such a public place. There was no avoiding it. Still, his words could not be taken back unless he wanted to be thought excessively rude. He assumed his place next to Hale. Margaret took her father's arm on the other side and the three began to walk together.

  "Tell me how you have been since I last saw you," Hale urged the younger man, as Thornton slowed his steps to accommodate him. "How is your mother? Are she and your sister well?"

  "They are very well, I thank you," Thornton answered. "My sister has recently become engaged to Mr. Watson, whom I believe you have met. Their wedding is set to take place next month."

  "A wedding? Congratulations! What a happy event for your family!"

  "Thank you. It is a prudent match on both sides, and my mother is well-pleased with the arrangement."

  "Mr. Watson owns a mill on the other side of town, does he not?" Hale asked. Thornton answered in the affirmative and added a few details about Watson's business and fortune. At least he hoped that was what he was doing. His mind was more fixed on tracking Margaret's dainty movements out of the corner of his eye than on the words coming out of his mouth.

  "Please extend our best wishes to your mother and to the new couple," Hale continued earnestly. "May they have a long and happy marriage."

  "We have every reason to believe they will." Thornton wondered what Margaret was thinking. Her calm exterior gave no hint of her thoughts.

  If Margaret had accepted his proposal, they would probably have been man and wife by this time. Thornton would be proudly walking with her on his arm, accepting best wishes and congratulations from all he knew. Instead he was forced to sit by and see wishes for happiness go to a couple that had, at best, a tepid affection for one another. For a moment Thornton felt a deep resentment of his sister and her marital prospects. He had a wild desire to throw himself at Margaret's feet and beg her to change her mind. But he kept his face stern and impassive. Nobody watching him would have guessed the depth of the swirling emotions inside him.

  ∞

  Despite her calm appearance Margaret was deeply troubled by Thornton's presence. While she did not want his favor, neither did she want his censure for sins she had not committed.

  After Thornton had proposed and she refused him, he had not, as Margaret half expected, immediately stopped all association with the Hale family. Quite the opposite, in fact; he had carefully ignored what had passed between himself and Margaret and continued his friendly relationship with her parents. Mrs. Hale had benefited from the costly fruit Thornton continued to bring her all through her final illness. Thornton attended tutoring sessions with Hale nearly as often as before, and he maintained a façade of polite indifference towards Margaret. Only Margaret and Thornton knew the heated words that had passed between them.

  Then Mrs. Hale, knowing her end was coming, begged Margaret to send for her son Frederick, even though Frederick would be in danger of hanging if he were ever discovered in England.

  Frederick came, and it became Margaret's job to turn away all visitors to Crampton, the family home. It mattered not how close they were to the family; for Frederick's sake, everyone must be refused. They could not allow a soul to enter unless that person already knew Frederick's secret and was willing to protect him. Thornton had not understood the sudden cut, and Margaret knew that he was hurt and puzzled over being abruptly excluded from the family circle.

  Then, just after Mrs. Hale died, Thornton saw Margaret and Frederick together at the Outwood train station. It was the night that Frederick was due to leave Milton to return to Spain, and it was well past the hour when any respectable woman would be out in company with an unrelated gentleman. Worse, Thornton spied Margaret and Frederick just as they were giving each other a final embrace. Margaret spied the disapproving scowl on Thornton's face just before he turned and marched out of the station. There was no time for explanation.

  To make matters worse, just after Thornton walked away, Fred was recognized by an old acquaintance, Leonards, as he stood on the train platform. Panic and a brief struggle ensued. The very next morning Leonards was found dead of a head injury.

  Fred had nothing to do with the tragic event. He and Leonards had quarreled and then separated, and Fred immediately boarded the train and left the area. But Margaret, Frederick, and Leonards had all been seen together during the quarrel, and an official inquiry was opened. As a magistrate Thornton was the one tasked with investigating the unexplained death. When he realized that Margaret was involved Thornton used his authority to declare the matter resolved. No charges were filed and the whole issue quietly disappeared.

  Margaret's shame knew no bounds. Thornton had risked his own reputation in order to save hers, and now she owed him a debt that she had no way to pay.

  Her emotions veered from one extreme to another as she walked silently alongside her father – gratitude towards Thornton, anger towards herself, and a deep sense of remorse swept over her in turn. She wished she could tell Thornton what had really happened that night on the train platform. She wished he knew that she had lied about her whereabouts that night only to save her brother. But Thornton was still a magistrate, still bound to uphold the law. She did not dare.

  Margaret startled as her father's arm pulled her to an abrupt stop. "I say, Margaret, don't you agree?"

  "I – " she gulped. She glanced up and noticed for the first time that they were nearly in front of the modern brick building that housed the post office. If her father had not intervened she might have gone walking right past it, she was so caught up in her thoughts. "I – am not certain," she finally floundered. She had no idea what the others were talking about, but she did not want to betray her distraction. "I have never given the matter much thought before."

  "Not much thought?" Thornton repeated, looking directly at her for the first time since they started walking together. His eyes, bright and piercing, seemed to demand an explanation for her strange answer.

  "Not much thought!" her father exclaimed. "Why, Margaret, of course you've thought about it! Our modern postal system is a wonder, a real modern-day miracle! It is astounding how quickly we can get a letter from one end of England to the other, and how little it costs! When I was a boy we had to pay to receive mail, not to send it, and sometimes it was quite costly! I remember one time, in fact, when my father had to refuse a letter he could not afford to accept. Paying to send instead of receive is a far more sensible arrangement."

  "I cannot believe that you, Miss Hale, of all people, would not have given much thought to a convenience used so frequently," Thornton commented in his half-serious, half-mocking way.

  "Yes, yes – of course," Margaret finally answered, aware that her cheeks were flushed. Her ruse had not worked. "Being able to receive letters from London and other places so swiftly is a blessing of the modern age. Forgive me, Mr. Thornton. I was not attending properly."

  The corners of his mouth twisted up. "Another blessing of the modern age is having a post office close by, as long as one can find it easily. Here we are at our destination. I shall leave you now, Mr. Hale, Miss Hale," he said, touching his hat.

  "Oh, please do not!" Hale stopped him. "I am not feeling at all myself after walking all this way. I really should get off my feet for a few minutes. Won't you take Margaret inside for me? I can wait for you right here."

  Margaret looked at her father with concern, momentarily forgetting her inner turmoil. "Are you unwell, Papa? Have you walked too far today?"

  "I am well enough, my dear; I on
ly want a minute or two to rest and catch my breath. I will sit here while you and John go inside. You can post your letter and check to see if there are any letters for us," he assured her.

  Margaret's sharp eyes examined her father closely. She had not missed the fact that he was rather blatantly throwing her and Mr. Thornton into company together. She recalled the conversation between her and her father a week earlier. If she didn't know better, she would have suspected her father of outright matchmaking. How very unlike him! But at this moment he was out of breath, and the hand he used to help lower himself to the bench was shaking. "Perhaps we should take you to a doctor," she suggested, noting his ashy complexion.

  "Nonsense! I will feel better in just a few minutes. Go in and send your letter off, then come back and get me. We should probably walk home a little more slowly than when we came here." He smiled at her encouragingly, if a bit weakly.

  She looked towards Mr. Thornton, wondering if he would protest, but he had already opened the door of the building for her and stood next to it, looking at her with one eyebrow raised as if in challenge. She really had no choice but to do as her father said, so she went through the door.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The room was close and crowded, with little air moving. A dozen or more people, both men and women, stood queued in front of the only counter, where a single clerk struggled to serve each customer as quickly as possible. Little murmurs of conversation could be heard throughout the room as people shifted restlessly from foot to foot and shuffled slowly forward. Margaret sighed as she realized that she would have to wait a number of minutes before she could be served – and that she would be with Thornton the whole time.

  "It was generous of you to agree to accompany me, even though your assistance is not needed," Margaret said to her companion, moving in front of him as they took their places in line. Ignoring Thornton altogether would be unforgivably ill-mannered. "I am entirely capable of fending for myself inside a post office."