Margaret of Milton

by Elaine Owen

  "They say it is very beautiful," said Mr. Hale, wistfully. "All of those warm climates seem to be."

  "I wonder if they are learning any Greek. Probably they must be, since they hear so much of it. Do you suppose little Sholto will speak Greek as well as English by the time they return to London?"

  "Perhaps he will. Young children have an ear for language; they learn it much more easily than the rest of us do. How marvelous it must be, to live in the same part of the world where some of the great ancient stories took place! I should love to see where Odysseus washed ashore, driven by the goddess Athena herself!"

  "And where he was taken to the Phaecian palace to meet King Alkinoos," Margaret added. "I don't suppose it is possible to know where the palace once stood, but one might guess at its location, if one had the time to explore properly."

  "You should go, Margaret," her father said unexpectedly, surprising her. "You should do as your cousin suggests and go to Corfu!"

  "What? No, Papa; if I were to go abroad anywhere it would be to Spain of course."

  "Yes, of course; go to Spain first and then see Corfu."

  Margaret patted his hand. "Perhaps one day, Papa. Not until you are better."

  "My dear, if you wait for me I might never be able to come."

  "I do not believe that!" she answered stoutly. "You will regain your strength one day and then you and I will go together to visit Frederick and Dolores. There! Is that not a pleasant thought? That gives you something to look forward to, does it not?"

  "I believe it does!" Mr. Hale said, brightening. "Why did I not think of that before? We can go visit Frederick in Spain, even if he can never come here! What a marvelous adventure that will be! I have never been on the continent before. Your mother did not care to travel."

  Margaret noted how much the idea of seeing his son again suddenly animated her father. She wished she had thought of this idea earlier. "Promise me we will do this, Papa. Once you have lost that little cough that has been troubling you we will book passage to Cadiz!"

  "You have my word, Margaret. As soon as my health returns we will go together to see Frederick!" Mr. Hale looked and sounded eager, more like an animated scholar and less like a bereaved husband. His color rose in his cheeks and his eyes took on a new life. Perhaps the prospect of seeing Frederick was what her dear father had needed all along to console him for his wife's death. As if eager to get started, Mr. Hale rose to his feet.

  ∞

  Thornton finished his business inside the post office and exited the building quickly, looking neither to the left nor to the right. He knew it was ill-mannered of him to walk right by Mr. Hale and his infuriating daughter without saying anything to them, but he did not trust himself to speak rationally just then. Besides, it was clear that they were utterly absorbed in reading the letter Margaret had just retrieved. They did not even lift their heads to see him pass by.

  What a fool he had been to think that Margaret might have softened in her attitude towards him! Just because she had asked him to call on her father, Thornton had, like a blind fool, assumed that the invitation was meant for him! He had enjoyed looking into her starry eyes and imagining that the welcome he saw there was for his sake, that she might be saving her bright smile for him. His mother was right; he had lost all good sense when it came to Margaret Hale.

  Well, he would lose it no more. He would call on Mr. Hale this evening as promised but he would pay no attention to Margaret. No attention to Miss Hale he reminded himself. He should not allow himself to call her by her first name even in his mind. He would not listen for the sound of her footsteps approaching the study where he always sat with her father, nor strain to catch glimpses of her through the doorway of the room. And if she did happen to join them for a discussion of Plato, what was that to him? She could participate in the conversation or not, whatever pleased her. Her choices made no difference to his life, not if she preferred the unknown gentleman from Cadiz over him.

  He pulled up short as remembrance swept over him. He had promised to call on Anne Latimer tonight! There was another mess he would have to sort out. Not only that, but he had meant to leave the post office and go on to Watson's mill to finalize Fanny's marriage documents. Instead he was so addle-brained that he had turned instinctively towards home. Like a love struck schoolboy, he fumed to himself. With an annoyed grimace he turned back towards the post office. He was just in time to see Mr. Hale stand, take several steps forward, crumple, and then fall to the ground.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  "Father!"

  Thornton heard the anguished cry from Margaret as clearly as though he were standing next to her. He rushed forward and in a moment was by her side, kneeling next to the prostrate Hale.

  "Mr. Hale!" He rolled the older man from his crumpled position onto his back, to look at him more closely. "What is the matter?"

  "There is pain," Mr. Hale gasped, clutching his hands over his chest. "So . . . much . . . pain!"

  "A doctor!" Thornton cried to those who were already gathering around. "Fetch a doctor! This man needs help!" Reaching under the older man's head and shoulders, he lifted him up until Mr. Hale's head was leaning against his chest. "Mr. Hale, try not to move. Stand back, everyone, give us room!”

  Several rough-looking men, compelled to motion by Thornton's orders, used their arms to push the crowd a few feet back from the little group. Thornton heard Mr. Hale's labored breathing and hoped that someone had heeded his command to find a physician. He could not leave his current position with the older man to go in search of one himself.

  "Papa!" called Margaret, reaching for her father's hands. "Where does it hurt?"

  "My heart," her father answered, from between clenched teeth. "There is pressure. I cannot breathe!"

  Margaret looked at Thornton, wild panic in her eyes. "I do not know what to do!"

  Thornton shared her feeling. He had seen men collapse this way before, and the outcome was rarely good. "There is nothing we can do," he answered grimly. "Keep him quiet and calm until the physician arrives."

  "Is a doctor coming?" Margaret called out to the sympathetic onlookers. "Has someone gone for help?" She was relieved when a man answered that one of their number had left on the run, and indicated the direction he had gone. Margaret said a quick prayer that the messenger would find the doctor and would be able to bring him to her father at once.

  As if hearing her thoughts, her father spoke again, his eyes squeezed shut against the pain. "You must trust in God, daughter," he managed to say. "I am in His hands."

  "No, Papa, no! Do not talk that way! A doctor will be here shortly."

  "He will not be in time."

  Tears welled in her eyes. "Do not say that. I could not stand to lose you too!"

  "God is a father to the fatherless, Margaret. He will not forsake you."

  Margaret bit her lip as she clung to her father's hands, trying to hold back her tears. She held onto his hands desperately, believing that if she could just will him to stay alive until the physician arrived, all would be well.

  "Is John here?" Mr. Hale asked, suddenly opening his eyes.

  "He is right behind you."

  "Let me see."

  It was not easy to arrange since Thornton was still supporting the older gentleman, but Margaret managed to support some of her father's weight so that Thornton could move slightly to one side. Hale looked up at him, and a smile came to his lips.

  "John, my boy. You have been like a son to me," he whispered as he reached up one hand to touch John's face.

  "You have been a father to me," Thornton answered huskily, watching Hale's pallor change. Grief was already contracting his throat. He knew what the sudden ashy gray in the rosy cheeks meant.

  "I will miss you."

  "Papa!" Margaret exclaimed in alarm, but her father did not stop.

  "Take care of her, John," Hale said, reaching blindly to take one of Thornton's hands in his. He found Thornton's hand and guided it until it was on top of Margaret'
s, then held both their hands together with his. "You must take care of her for me. Promise me, John."

  "I promise," Thornton answered solemnly. He wrapped his fingers around Margaret's but did not take his eyes off Hale. "You have my word."

  "That is good." Hale gave a relieved sigh and closed his eyes, but he still breathed. His spirit had not yet fled; the tie that kept him to earth was not yet loosed. "I love you, Margaret," he said, his voice growing weaker.

  "Papa! You must not go!" Tears threatened to spill, but she blinked hard and they retreated for the moment. She swallowed bravely even as her father's breathing became more shallow.

  Thornton did not dare move, fearing any motion might disturb the dying man. Margaret remained transfixed, tears finally beginning to make their way down her cheeks.

  Just before the end Hale opened his eyes again, but they were glassy and unfocused, the light fading. "If only things had been different," he murmured. "If only I could have gone to Spain. I wish I had seen Spain. I wish I could have seen – " his voice stopped, and his head fell back. He gave one final gasp, and then he slipped away.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Margaret was in shock. She still knelt on the ground next to her father's body, her hands clasping his. Thornton ached for the empty look in her eyes and the way she remained frozen in place, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Hale was still cradled against Thornton's chest, but Thornton knew Margaret was no longer aware of his presence. All her attention was on her father. Thornton gently laid Hale's head on the ground, tears in his own eyes, and with that gesture Margaret's composure broke. She began to weep with deep, silent sobs that racked her small frame.

  Thornton stood and gently lifted Margaret to her feet, away from the damp ground. At this moment she was so vulnerable, so utterly lost! She covered her face with her hands to give way to her emotions, and he fought with everything in him not to pull her into his arms. But he did not have that right. Instead he guided her to the nearby bench, the same one she had just shared with her father, and urged her to sit. Her tears slowed and she sat numb and inert while Thornton paced helplessly, waiting for the physician, who would have to make the official pronouncement.

  Many things would have to take place in the next few days. Margaret would need to contact her relatives in London to give them the sad news. Arrangements would have to be made for Hale's services and burial, and Margaret would need to play hostess for whatever relatives would arrive for those events. She would be chief mourner at his funeral. There would be a myriad of details to attend to, and she would have to address them all while still reeling under the cruelest blow she had received since moving to Milton less than two years before.

  "Miss Hale." Thornton approached Margaret quietly and spoke to her gently, but she did not respond. "Margaret!" he said more forcefully, and this time he was rewarded by seeing her lovely, tear-stained eyes rise to meet his. Even under these circumstances he could not help admiring their starry beauty. "Is there anything I can do to help you? May I send a message to your family in London? If you give me their direction I can send a telegram for you."

  Margaret seemed to rouse slightly. "My family is not in London." She spoke slowly, as if trying to recall something. "They are in Greece. They are not to come home for three years."

  "Greece!"

  "My cousin's husband is stationed in Corfu, and my aunt has gone to join them. We had just received word of her removal when my father – " Her voice trailed off.

  The letter in the post office, Thornton thought. He took a deep breath. "Have you no other family in England?"

  "None. My cousin and her family are all I have left." She sounded utterly bereft.

  "What about your young man in Cadiz?" Thornton hated to even suggest the idea, but this was no time for jealousy.

  Margaret shook her head emphatically. "No. He cannot come."

  Thornton observed her in silence for a moment, weighing her options. "So you are utterly unsupported at this time." Margaret did not answer.

  Thornton was driven by a powerful compulsion to help Margaret. She would clearly need assistance over the next few days, at least, but she was too proud to ever ask for help. "Margaret," he said, seating himself on the bench next to her. For the moment he had forgotten that he should be addressing her as Miss Hale. "Is there no one at all to come to your aid? A servant, perhaps?"

  "We just have Mary and Dixon," she replied. "Mary is too young to know what to do and Dixon – Dixon will be mourning in her own way."

  "I see." He came to a decision. "What about Mr. Bell?"

  "Mr. Bell?" She sounded dazed.

  "He is your father's close friend, is he not? You should not be alone at this time. Will you allow me to contact him on your behalf? If I send him a message now he may perhaps be at your side tomorrow."

  Margaret finally nodded. "Yes, you may contact him. Thank you, Mr. Thornton."

  ∞

  "Mother!"

  Thornton's voice called through the quiet house with an intensity Hannah had rarely heard, piercing through the noise from the street and the mill next door. She looked up in amazement as Thornton entered the drawing room where she was sitting, working on her mending. Without looking at Hannah, Thornton crossed the room to the liquor cabinet and removed a bottle of brandy. He poured a small portion into a tumbler and tossed it all back in one gulp.

  Something must be dreadfully wrong to make her son drink in the middle of the day. "John! What has happened?"

  Thornton put the empty tumbler down and turned to look at his mother. "Mother, Mr. Hale is dead."

  Hannah was struck dumb. When she regained her voice she asked in a low tone, "How? When did it happen?"

  Thornton crossed the room and took a seat next to her on the settee. "I met Mr. Hale and Margaret on my way to the post office, where they were also bound. I went inside to post your letters. When I came out again they were sitting together on a bench, reading a letter they had just received. I was a little way past them when I heard a noise. I turned to look and saw him fall to the ground. I tried to help him but there was nothing I could do. He died in my arms."

  "John!" The tidings were dreadful. Hannah put down her mending and tried to absorb the news for a moment before speaking again. She could not imagine the horror. "What a terrible thing for Margaret."

  "I will never forget it." Thornton shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the pathos of the past few hours. He described the harrowing scene – Hale's cries of pain, the gathering crowd, the frantic calls for a doctor, the way Margaret begged her father not to leave her. Hannah sat listening, absorbing every detail. "He told Margaret to trust in God, and he told her he loved her. Then he passed away." Thornton did not say anything of his final promise to the dying man. He thought he could imagine what Hannah's reaction to that detail might be.

  "A devoted father to the end. He was a good man." Hannah looked down at her hands, clenched in her lap. "Where is Margaret now?"

  "At her home. I arranged for a litter to take her father's body and I sent for one of her servants to escort her back to Crampton."

  "I suppose you could do no less, being there on the scene at the time," Hannah admitted reluctantly. It was a pity, she thought, that this had happened just when John might be ready to put Margaret out of his mind forever. The natural sympathy he felt for her plight was likely to stir up other emotions. But perhaps no damage would be done. John had already called on Anne Latimer once since his conversation with his mother. He had shown that he was ready to do his duty to his family by finding a suitable bride and starting a family. As soon as Margaret settled her affairs she would no doubt leave Milton forever, and Hannah could stop worrying about her son's foolish infatuation for the girl.

  She knew better than to say anything of this to Thornton, of course. She merely gave a small sigh of relief, then took up her mending once again. As casually as possible she said, "I wonder where Margaret will go now. To her family in London, I suppose."

&nbs
p; Thornton gave his mother a wary look. "That will not be possible, Mother. It turns out that she has no more family in England."

  "What?" Hannah nearly dropped her sewing scissors. "What do you mean?"

  "She is completely alone." Thornton repeated for his mother what Margaret had told him about her family being abroad.

  "Ridiculous!" Hannah squinted against the light as she tried to thread the needle in her hand. "So her family is in Corfu. There is no reason she cannot join them there."

  "Mother." He looked at her with exaggerated patience. "Would you ever allow Fanny to travel by herself for such a distance, and among foreigners?"

  "No," she admitted reluctantly. "But she could take a servant with her."

  Thornton's dark look told her he did not agree with her statement, but he did not argue with her. Instead he said, "Very likely no such arrangements will be necessary. I just sent a message to Bell asking him to come to Milton as soon as possible. No doubt he will look out for Miss Hale from now on." Thornton kept his voice even but Hannah was not fooled. She glared at her son.

  "John, there is no reason for you to take on any responsibility for Margaret Hale, simply because you happened to be present when her father passed away."

  Thornton did not answer. He walked restlessly to the window and looked out of it at the mill below, thinking of the day's events. His last conversation with Margaret's father rang in his ears.

  "You must take care of her for me. Promise me, John."

  "I promise. You have my word!"

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Two days later Margaret had begun to recover from the shock of her father's passing. She was making the discovery, again, that life goes on after a loss, even after a loss that is particularly cruel and sudden. The tears had subsided and she was beginning to think about her future, a future without the man who had loved and guided her all her life. Now that she was on her own there were important decisions she would have to make.

  Her father's funeral would be tomorrow morning, and she was waiting for Mr. Bell's arrival so that she could decide where to go after that. But she already knew she would have to leave Milton. There was nothing left for her here. Her final destination was as yet unknown, but she trusted that Mr. Bell could give her guidance.