Margaret of Milton

by Elaine Owen

  “Thank God!” the older woman exclaimed. “I am glad a way has opened up to save the business. But how did you convince John to accept your money? You must have used all of your powers of persuasion. He can be dreadfully stubborn!”

  Margaret nearly laughed aloud at Hannah’s words and at her husband’s scowl in return. But she noticed that he did not argue with his mother’s characterization. “It turns out that I can be just as stubborn as he is.”

  “And an excellent negotiator,” Thornton added wryly. “The truth is, Mother, that she left me with little choice.”

  “It is high time you had someone else in your life who is not afraid to stand up to you, John!” Hannah's words were directed at John, but she gave Margaret an admiring look. “Well!” She exhaled with relief. “I should have known something like this would happen. A man as fine and upright as my son, who has worked so hard his whole life, could not lose everything in one blow. Providence was bound to intervene on his behalf.”

  “Many fine and upright men have been brought low through circumstances beyond their control, Mother,” Thornton felt compelled to point out, with a touch of humor.

  “Yes, but none of them happened to have the last name of Thornton!” Hannah retorted, as if that settled the question. “Margaret, this is another sad blow for you, but I think even you will admit that the timing was providential.”

  “I entirely agree.” The timing of the inheritance had indeed been perfect. She and Thornton had come together in the short interval when neither of them had any wealth, and they had truly pledged themselves to each other for better or worse, for richer or poorer. From now on, she knew, they were entirely for each other. Nothing would ever come between them again.

  ∞

  Sharing the news with Nicholas Higgins followed much the same pattern as with Hannah. Margaret and Thornton called Nicholas into the mill office, closed the door, and gave him the most basic information, namely that the mill had been saved. There was no danger of anyone being out of work, at least for the foreseeable future. Then they waited for his reaction.

  Nicholas was a cautious man, and the news, although welcome, was so unexpected that he had a difficult time believing it. “Is it fo' sure?” he asked several times. “Are ye certain? There’s no chance o' this fallin' through? I wouldn’t like t' tell the others they’re safe and then ‘ave t' go back on my word t' very next day.”

  Margaret exchanged a look with Thornton, who gave a quick nod. She took a deep breath. “Can you keep a secret, Nicholas?”

  More puzzled than before, Higgins nodded, and Margaret told him the rest of the news – that she was now the heiress of one of the wealthiest men in Milton and a significant investor in the business. Nicholas, like Hannah, was stunned for a moment; then he broke into a wide grin.

  “I’m right glad yo’ve had a good turn fo' once, Miss Margaret! It didn’t seem fair, all t' troubles ye’ve 'ad since coming t' Milton! Losin' yo mother and father, and all that fuss wi' yo brother, too. But it’s come out all right in t' end! I know ye and Master Thornton’ll keep things afloat proper like from now on!”

  “We’ll be sure to ‘keep things afloat,’ as you put it, for many long years,” Thornton assured the man. He extended his hand to Nicholas and the other man took it without hesitation. Master and worker shook firmly.

  Margaret took Thornton’s free hand in hers and felt him thread his fingers securely between hers. “There have been several hard blows in the last two years, Nicholas, but there have been good things too. And of all the good things, my husband has been the very best!”

  ∞

  Hannah stayed for dinner that night and Dixon outdid herself by preparing a celebratory feast out of seemingly nowhere. It was a time for rejoicing, and for clearing away the dark clouds of the past. Hannah finally heard the entire story of Frederick and what had happened at the train station all those months ago, and of all the misunderstandings since then. Questions were asked and answered and it was clear that the talk could go on all night.

  At length Margaret decided she could tell Hannah about Bell’s letter to her and his admonition to use the fortune for good. “I don’t know how I will ever decide what charitable endeavors, as Mr. Bell described them, to pursue,” she finished, somewhat plaintively. “There are always so many people suffering! The needs are so many! I could give my fortune away in one day if I really had a mind to.”

  “I hope you will be more careful than that!” Hannah exclaimed. This was the only part of Bell’s legacy which did not necessarily receive her unqualified approval. “Bell may have wanted you to be charitable, but I’m sure he also wanted you to look after yourself. John, don’t let Margaret’s generous heart get the better of her.”

  “Margaret knows what she is doing,” Thornton answered confidently, earning an appreciative look from his wife. Hannah shook her head doubtfully but wisely took a sip of her wine without saying anything else.

  “It is hard to even know where to start,” Margaret continued, still earnest. “I know there are right and wrong ways to handle money but I don’t know what they are. I have never been responsible for any substantial amounts before.”

  “There are ways to make your wealth last longer,” Thornton assured her. “For instance I would not advise selling any properties just to make a quick profit. You could continue renting them out and then use that income to support the charities you want. That would be worth more in the long term.”

  “I understand,” Margaret nodded thoughtfully. “And I want to pick causes that are worthy, ones that truly help the people they are supposed to help. But first I ought to do something for Frederick. He is my brother, after all. By right some of this money should go to him.”

  “You have many decisions ahead of you, my love. I know you will do the right things.”

  Margaret’s hand moved restlessly on the tabletop, as though she could not wait to get started. “Will you help me sort this all out, John? I feel as though a great wave has washed over me, and I must learn to swim in it or else be washed away!”

  “I will be glad to help you however I can!” The look that the couple exchanged at this point was full of trust and tenderness, and it lasted so long that Hannah felt forced to say something. She cleared her throat loudly.

  “I am sure you will help her, John, but must it all be done tonight? If we do not leave the table soon, Dixon will come in and chase us out!” The couple broke their gaze and laughed. Thornton took his mother’s hint and rose to his feet, holding his wine glass high.

  “A toast to Adam Bell! May his memory forever be blessed by all those fortunate enough to have known him, and by those yet to be blessed by his generosity!”

  The two women followed suit. “To Adam Bell!” they exclaimed. And so the joyful meal came to an end.

  ∞

  After dinner Hannah, impressed by the veritable feast Dixon had prepared on such short notice, asked if she could copy the receipt for the bouillabaisse that had been served as the first course. Dixon proudly brought her the little page with the ingredients and instructions carefully noted, and Hannah carried it into the parlor to painstakingly write it down before she went home. She intended to have the same dish prepared at Watson’s to welcome the newlywed couple home from their wedding tour. Thornton and Margaret, meanwhile, sat down on the settee and went through the newspaper together, taking turns reading articles that caught their attention.

  Hannah began her work easily enough, but her progress was slow, for as she laboriously copied out the ingredients and directions her eyes continually strayed to the couple sitting on the settee in front of the fire. She could hear the little murmurs of talk and occasional quiet laughter between the couple. It was a noticeable change from the night she had watched the two of them in that same spot, just before Fanny’s wedding. Hannah could not help comparing the two scenes in her mind.

  On that night Margaret and Thornton had likewise sat together before the fire, but their interactions had been tent
ative, almost hesitant. Thornton had been eager to be with Margaret but also cautious, lest he push her away. Margaret had been curious but ready to flee at the least sign of discord. Neither had known exactly how their relationship stood nor quite how to behave with one another. Their evening had ended on a disappointing note.

  But this evening was entirely different. They sat close, far closer than was strictly necessary. The firelight gleamed softly on both of their heads as they bent over the newspaper in Margaret’s hands. Margaret was reading aloud about a new railroad line being laid close to Milton, but Hannah doubted Thornton was listening. He was too busy openly admiring his wife. And this time when he put his arm on the back of the settee, so that his arm was nearly embracing Margaret, Margaret’s response was to smile shyly and move still closer. Hannah had the distinct impression that they had both forgotten her presence.

  With her work done she gathered her things and stood up. “I am going home,” she announced. “I am tired and it has been a long day.”

  Thornton and Margaret stirred and seemed to recall their surroundings. They politely stood as Hannah found her coat and put it on. “Thank you for coming, Hannah,” Margaret said, as graciously as though she had been mistress of the house for years. “I am glad you were able to stay and celebrate with us. “

  “It was my pleasure,” Hannah answered, her manner not as gruff as usual. “Congratulations, Margaret. I believe Mr. Bell made the ideal choice when he picked you to carry out his wishes.”

  “You are very kind. I – “ Margaret looked briefly at a loss for words. Then, to Hannah’s surprise, she stepped forward and embraced the older woman. After a moment’s surprise Hannah returned the gesture. When they stepped back the eyes of both were a little brighter than usual.

  Thornton had noticed the little interaction. His face radiated approval, but all he said was, “Shall I walk you home, Mother? It is dark outside.”

  “No, you stay here.” Hannah waved him off. “It is not far and I know the way. Good night, son. And good night, Margaret. I will come again as soon as possible.”

  The other two said their farewells as Hannah stepped away. She let herself out the front door and began her walk back to Fanny’s house contentedly, knowing that John and Margaret had probably already resumed their seats together in front of the fire. She did not mind John’s absence. The sun had set but there was plenty of light to see her way. And although the weather was cold there was warmth in her heart, a warmth that came from knowing that John and Margaret had found their happiness together at last.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  The changes in Milton began slowly, as the turn of the year came and went, winter settled in, days became longer, and the weather grew colder.

  Few people noticed at first when a soup kitchen quietly opened in the poorest area of the Princeton district, distributing bread and other staples for free to those who were too sick or feeble to work. Mary Higgins, the oldest daughter of Nicholas Higgins, did the cooking and most of the serving, although a small group of volunteers from the parish helped as well. The younger Mrs. Thornton of Marlborough Mills came and went daily. Margaret Thornton, nee Hale, had been active in charity work before her marriage, so nobody was surprised that she continued in it afterwards. But the wealthier set of Milton did wonder about the origins of the new relief effort. Which one of them, they wondered, was supporting the endeavor? They would not have their answer for many months.

  Around the same time a different sort of kitchen opened in a large storage shed behind Marlborough Mills. Not as many people were aware of its existence, for it was only available to the workers of the mill. Thornton and Higgins together had come up with the idea of buying food in bulk so as to bring its price down, and then cooking and serving it on site to the mill employees. Thornton and the union split the cost of the whole enterprise and everybody was thus guaranteed at least one hot meal a day.

  The arrangement worked well for Thornton because, as he said, a fed worker was a productive worker. Besides this, word of the unusual amenity was beginning to spread through the workers, many of whom started to apply for available jobs at Marlborough Mills. In the future Thornton would have no problem filling his ranks with the most skilled hands from all over town.

  Nicholas Higgins walked with a lighter step these days, less worried and careworn than he had been in a long time. Besides the mill staying open he was in possession of paperwork that guaranteed each of the Boucher children an annual stipend for their maintenance and education until they reached their majority. There would be no difficulty in providing for the children now, and if something happened to Nicholas they would not starve on the streets or be forced into an orphanage. Nicholas was a proud man. He would never have accepted charity on his own behalf, but he was not above accepting assistance for those in his care.

  He took to dropping by the house now and then, ostensibly to let Margaret know how the children were coming along, but really for conversation with Master Thornton. Despite the differences in class and station the two men had found much in common, and they could carry a conversation with ease, aided by Margaret only occasionally.

  Hannah, of course, did not approve of the new caller. In her opinion workers and masters fared best when each kept to their own sphere. But Fanny and Watson had returned from their wedding tour, and as often as not Hannah found that Marlborough Mills was more peaceful, more filled with grace and good cheer, than the Watson’s home. If she had to put up with the presence of a union radical every so often in order to spend time with John and Margaret, then so be it.

  As of yet there was no new school in Milton. Margaret wanted the new institution to be for all the mill workers, not just those who labored at Marlborough Mills, so the location had to be somewhere convenient to everyone, and it had to be a site that could accommodate growth as the school became larger. Margaret was hoping for a school that could grow along with the town itself. She spent many hours going from place to place in Milton, searching for exactly the right location, but so far had not found anything she particularly liked.

  It was a blustery, raw day in late February when Thornton arrived home a little earlier than usual for dinner. He removed his coat and hung it up in the entryway, then went in search of his wife. He found her in the kitchen, stirring a heavy pot on the stove.

  Margaret, involved in her task, was not aware of her husband’s arrival until she felt his hands on her waist and his chest against her back. “Hello, Margaret.” He wrapped his arms around her as she stood before the stove. “I missed you today,” he murmured, his deep voice rumbling against her ear.

  Margaret sighed as she felt his warmth surround her, and she let her head relax against his shoulder even as she continued stirring. She had never known that such care and tenderness could exist between two people, or that she could long for his presence the way she did. She had never imagined she could feel such joy to be in his arms, or experience the sense of completion she felt when they were together.

  For long moments they stood this way, with Thornton pressing gentle kisses along the side of her face, whispering endearments in her ear. She continued stirring the pot but found it increasingly difficult to focus on the task at hand. “John,” she finally protested, weakly, “I am trying to make dinner!”

  Thornton gave a low laugh. One of his hands reached to take the spoon out of her hand. She reached for it, but he held it just out of her grasp, clearly enjoying her futile efforts to reclaim it.

  “This will burn if it is not stirred!” Margaret finally turned in Thornton’s arms to face him, looking at him reproachfully, though she could not help smiling as well.

  “Let it burn,” he rejoined, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I don’t care about dinner right now. The only thing I care about is you.”

  He dropped the spoon back into the pot behind her and put his words into actions, kissing her until she broke away, breathless. “We should not do this,” she tried to tell him. “Dixon may walk in.”
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  “You gave her the day off today,” he reminded her. “I heard you myself.” He pulled her close and kissed her again, making her laugh delightedly. He took one of her hands in his to lead her towards the kitchen door, intending to take her upstairs.

  Margaret understood his intentions at once, but she hesitated, trying to pull back. “What if your mother comes for dinner?”

  “Mother is eating at Fanny’s tonight. There is no danger of her walking in on us.”

  “But your dinner!” she tried one last time, glancing over her shoulder at the stove. “I just started making it!”

  “Food can wait,” Thornton answered, looking down at her with darkened eyes. “Come with me, please,” he added, coaxingly.

  Margaret felt herself melt the way she always did in response to his open affection, but she still hesitated. Thornton followed her glance to the still bubbling pot. “Can it be heated again?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Excellent.” In one swift motion he released Margaret, reached behind her, and moved the pot to the back of the stove. “We may be hungry later.” Then he swept her into his arms and carried her upstairs.

  ∞

  Afterwards they lay together contentedly, arms about each other, with Margaret’s head on Thornton’s shoulder. “My dearest,” she said tentatively, not sure if her husband was awake, “I had a letter from Frederick today.”

  “Hmm? From Frederick? What did he have to say?”

  “He and Mr. Redmond have been in contact. Mr. Redmond asked him to write down a thorough account of everything that happened with Captain Reid and the mutiny, and to be sure to include the names of anyone who can corroborate his version of events. Frederick is following his instructions, but he is not entirely sure what Mr. Redmond has in mind. Neither am I. The navy has all this information already!”

  “I may be able to shed some light on that. I found out this morning that Redmond has a brother who is on the Board of Admiralty.”