His uncertainty was mildly relieved as his gaze rested upon the solemn figure standing mutely in the room where he had left her. His footfall alerted her to his approach, and she looked up from her dazed reverie, her large soulful eyes meeting his, inspiring in him a desperate desire to enfold her in his arms and never let go.
“Your father wishes to speak with you,” he relayed with a slightly furrowed brow. A cold fear stabbed at his heart and he began to feel the familiar pall of dread that he should live a lifetime alone.
She gave a slight nod of acquiescence before silently sweeping past him to follow her father’s summons.
He watched helplessly as her graceful form slowly mounted the stairs. When she finally disappeared, his panic rose to smother the budding wonder of her acceptance. Had she been in earnest in her response, or was it merely an outburst for which she would repent? His hope refused to surrender. Surely she would honor the word she had spoken. She had promised to become his wife. His chest ached in intensified longing at the thought of it.
He began to pace amidst the cramped but pleasant confines of the room.
*****
“Margaret, Mr. Thornton tells me you have accepted his offer of marriage. Is this true?” Mr. Hale asked, bewildered of the girl standing before him with bowed head.
“Yes, Father,” she admitted in soft tones, lifting her gaze to meet his uncomprehending stare. How could she explain what she had done when she barely understood herself? “Do you not approve?” she asked, flustered by his somberness and desperate to be assured that she had not been foolish — that she had instead acted wisely in accepting him.
“Of course I should approve, my dear. I only wished to understand how it is you have changed your opinion of the man so quickly. I was certain that you did not carry him in very high regard. Truth be told, I had no idea that my favorite pupil had a tenderness for my dearest daughter. I was quite convinced you had put the man well off the trail, as it were, with your rather strong opinions of Milton men and their ways,” he confessed, regarding her expectantly.
“I have been rather harsh,” she admitted, realizing how strange it must appear to him that she should have accepted the man with whom she had so stringently quarreled. She could not make sense of the swirling mass of emotions that assailed her. What had she done? It was no use to fathom the depths of it at present; she had given her word and must now stand behind it.
“I believe I can see a kindness in him now,” she faltered. “He is honest. You believe him to be a good man, Father, do you not?” she asked, attempting to convince herself of the rightness of her choice.
“Yes, indeed. There is no question of that, my dear. He’s one of the most impressive men I’ve ever had the privilege to meet. I only wanted to be certain that you came to your own decision without feeling any … obligation that is not pleasant to you,” he clarified with concern. He did not want her to enter into such a sacred bond merely to please him or the expectations of others.
She froze at his words, momentarily wavering in her response. A haze of dizziness threatened to unsteady her as she considered the consummate, lifelong commitment that lay before her. She would be Mr. Thornton’s wife forevermore if she verified her acquiescence. Panic threatened to rise at the thought that her freedom had been eclipsed — that she would be bound to one whom she did not fully understand. But, battling against the tide of fear, she felt strangely compelled to trust her decision, feeling a faint reassurance that all would turn out for the good.
“I have answered him of my own accord, Father,” she stated softly, but with unequivocal clarity.
“Well then, my dear, I give you my heartiest blessing,” he said with a heartwarming smile as he lovingly grasped her arms. “I hope you will be very happy. I must tell Mr. Thornton to take special care of my precious pearl,” he elaborated with poignant fondness, giving her a gentle pinch on her smooth cheek.
“Papa,” she blurted with unguarded emotion and thrust herself into his arms like a child.
He held her for a cherished moment, reveling in the chance to hold her as of days of old. The years had passed quickly, and it was hard to fathom that she would soon leave them.
“Now then,” he announced, releasing her from his hold and stepping back. “We must not keep the poor man waiting,” he remarked with a smile.
*****
At the first sound of movement, Mr. Thornton stilled before taking measured steps to the doorway to observe Margaret and her father descend the stairs.
Her expression was unreadable. Keeping her gaze lowered, her angelic face showed neither tremor of remorse nor trace of inward contentment as she calmly — gracefully — approached.
A desperate glance at Mr. Hale, however, revealed a happy father’s grin. Slowly, the hopeful suitor let his breath out in glad relief.
“Congratulations, John,” Mr. Hale enthused as he carefully shepherded his daughter forward. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am to welcome you to our family,” he continued, shaking the dumbfounded man’s hand with vigor. “I know you will take excellent care of our precious Margaret,” he declared.
“Thank you,” the awestruck master managed to return, inevitably casting his gaze at Margaret for a sign of her willing concurrence. At last, she lifted her eyes to her future husband, and he felt his heart twist with aching rapture to see them filled with hopeful trust.
Their eyes locked in stilled wonder, searching for the truth in each other’s gaze.
“I must go tell Maria,” Mr. Hale announced merrily, leaving the newly betrothed couple to stand alone in the front hallway.
Margaret tore her eyes from his questioning stare, feeling a warm flush rise to her cheeks.
Mr. Thornton continued to study her in amazement, her feminine blushes and meek behavior a stunning revelation. Had she feelings for him? He yearned to reach out and pull her close — to taste from her lips her acceptance of him.
But he would not frighten her with his passion. He took a long breath to bring himself to reasoned action. The regular duties of his day still awaited him. “I’m afraid I must return to the mill. There is much to be done now that the strike has ended,” he stated, breaking the silence between them.
Snapping to life, she raised her face to his. “Have your men all returned to work?” she asked interestedly, all maidenly modesty vanishing in her concern.
He regarded her with a mixture of amusement and admiration. “For the most part, yes,” he replied.
“And will you take them back? What of your Irish?” she asked, the gleam of compassion showing in her blue-gray eyes.
He could not help but smile at her blunt inquisitiveness. “I have not yet decided upon the right course of action. I suppose that many of my Irish will like to return home,” he answered forthrightly, meeting her gaze with a sparkle of pleasure in this exchange.
She averted her eyes in embarrassment to realize the impertinence of her insistent questioning. “I’m sorry. I have no right to intrude upon your business decisions,” she stammered meekly.
“Not at all. I am pleased that you take an interest; you have every right ... now more than ever,” he replied warmly, letting his gaze rove briefly over her figure and the soft features of her face.
She blushed at his words and felt the heat of his admiring scrutiny.
Silence again invaded the space between them.
“Perhaps I may see you tomorrow evening when I come to my lesson,” he suggested hopefully.
Her eyes fluttered to find his once more. “Yes, of course,” she answered politely with a trace of a smile.
The corners of his mouth drew upwards in satisfaction. “Then I will take my leave of you today,” he announced with reluctance.
She followed him toward the door. He had just begun to step out when she noticed his hat still hanging on the wall. “Wait!” she called out.
He turned with a start, hoping to hear some tender word from her lips. He watched as she retrieved his tall black hat and h
anded it to him with a pleasing smile.
He grasped it with both his own hands but made no move to remove it from her hold. “Thank you,” he said in a low, whispered tone as his stark blue eyes attempted to convey all that he wished to say.
She nodded in faint accord and fluttered her lashes in distraction as he took his hat from her clasp.
He turned to go, securing the door behind him. He ambled somewhat dazedly down the stairs and into the street. His eyes swept heavenward, where he spotted a patch of blue amid the encompassing gray of Milton’s dreary sky.
The crease of bewilderment upon his brow slowly receded as the corners of his mouth edged upwards into a wide grin.
Chapter Four
Margaret stood in a daze. The silence of the hallway reverberated with the words he had earlier spoken — I wish to marry you because I love you. She had not wanted to believe him, certain that she had never done anything to earn his admiration.
In a flash she recalled when Henry had surprised her with an offer of marriage. Was this how it always was with men — springing their hidden adoration upon unsuspecting women? How was it that she was never aware of their interest or intentions until it was too late? she mused in breathless confusion. How was a girl to know when a man’s attentions were fraught with the hope of making a match?
Could the man she had sent to face the riotous mob truly be in love with her? she wondered.
She remembered again that, although he had been disconcerted by her abrupt dismissal, Henry had spoken with even composure.
Mr. Thornton’s voice had held no such measure of tepid detachment. On the contrary, he had frightened her with his passionate words and fevered tone. No one had ever spoken to her in such a way!
She shivered and hugged her arms about her. She should have stopped him, but she had been powerless to refute his urgent timbre. His declarations had mesmerized her. His promises had enveloped her in a comforting embrace, coaxing her to abandon all resistance with his ardent honesty.
He had been in earnest. She did not understand it. Nor could she divine how it was that she now stood here as his intended. His intended!
It was too overwhelming. She roused herself to move at last. She would go to see Bessy, she decided, as she headed upstairs to tell her parents of her intention.
“Margaret,” Mr. Hale called out, as he slipped out of his wife’s quarters, “your mother is eager to see you.” He summoned her with a knowing smile.
Margaret returned his smile weakly, feeling very much averse to discussing her situation any further. She longed for some time alone so that she might have the opportunity to digest all that had occurred since the tumultuous events of yesterday. She did not know whether to rejoice or to recoil in trepidation at what lay ahead of her.
Entering the room her father had just vacated, she found her mother very much alert, sitting in her preferred cushioned chair with Dixon standing at the ready nearby.
“Margaret!” her mother enthused at the sight of her. There was an energy in her voice that Margaret had not heard in months. “It’s quite a surprise, isn’t it — Mr. Thornton offering for you?” she remarked with a measure of disbelief.
“It is,” Margaret responded with amazing calm, not wishing to reveal anything of the flood of doubts and uncertainties that threatened to undo her.
“You have done very well, I believe. Although he is not a proper gentleman, he is very well respected in Milton,” she reasoned thoughtfully. At this, a huff of disparagement was heard from the loyal servant who felt it was a tragedy that her mistress had been brought to live in Milton. The brief censure was ignored.
“And to think I had once thought of pairing you with Edward Gorman,” her mother continued. “Do you remember the Gormans of Southampton, Margaret? They were carriage manufacturers, but I don’t think they were quite so wealthy or powerful as Mr. Thornton,” she remarked, thinking out loud as she contemplated her daughter’s level of success.
“In any case, it is very pleasing for me to think that you shall be well cared for, my dear,” she confided, her eyes revealing a melancholy at the thought of a future she might not see. “Of course it also means that you will be making a permanent home here in Milton,” she added, searching her daughter’s face for any sign of regret. She remembered well how Margaret had disparaged this city in front of Mr. Thornton at tea months ago.
“Yes,” Margaret replied hollowly. She did not know how she felt about it. She had initially yearned to return to Helstone in those early months, longing for the life of her childhood. But she had come to realize that pining for the past would only bring unhappiness and had resolved to make the best of things in her present place. She had grown to appreciate the energy and promise of this city. She doubted Mr. Thornton would ever leave Milton. It would be her home for life.
“We must invite Mr. Thornton to dinner tomorrow evening,” her mother announced officiously, pleased to have formal arrangements to consider. “Dixon, you must prepare a roast and make your delicious custard,” she instructed, her mind already whirling with the necessary preparations.
Dixon took a deep breath, but only nodded in compliance with her mistress’s commands. She was loath to work herself to the bone to welcome a Milton manufacturer to the family, but could not help but be pleased to see the frail woman animated with a purpose.
Margaret excused herself to visit Bessy, promising that she would return to help Dixon ready the house for the next day’s occasion. Her mother nodded her acknowledgment, but had already set her attention upon composing a formal invitation.
*****
Mr. Thornton could not contain his exuberance, and with every stride of his long limbs felt the shackles of a gloomy past falling away, the future now gloriously unveiled to him. She had accepted him! His head reeled with this simple fact, the words resounding within him again and again in a joyous refrain — she had accepted him! She had not thrown herself into his arms or confessed her undying affections, but it did not signify at this moment. He had time to win her love, for she had promised to marry him.
He could almost laugh out loud, so agog was he at his fortune. And although he reined in his euphoria to avoid the stares of passersby, a short burst of air escaped his lips in unconstrained joy and wonderment. The corners of his mouth were curled into a fixed smile that transformed the Master’s face into one of effusive contentment, attracting the curious glances of those accustomed to the forbidding scowl of the respected manufacturer.
Mr. Bell caught sight of the tall mill owner from across the street, at once intrigued by the younger man’s obvious pleasure. “Thornton!” he called out as he carefully crossed the cobbled street to approach him.
Mr. Thornton stopped and tipped his hat politely at his landlord. The Master had known and respected the Oxford scholar for many years. “Mr. Bell,” he responded with an air of caution, wary of the gentleman’s more meddlesome ways.
“Congratulations, Thornton,” the wealthy landowner said with a knowing satisfaction.
Mr. Thornton’s brow contracted in confusion, his eyes focused intently on the elder gentleman.
Mr. Bell’s lips twitched as he studied the Master’s face. “I hear the strike has ended. You must be pleased,” he elaborated, observing the other man relax in sudden comprehension.
“Yes, of course, but there is still much to be done,” Mr. Thornton replied, once again the serious manufacturer.
“Of course, of course. I shan’t keep you then. You are a busy man,” Mr. Bell responded with a slight smirk.
Mr. Thornton tipped his hat again toward the elder gentleman before resuming a more staid stride toward his mill.
Mr. Bell watched Thornton’s tall figure retreat for a brief moment while his mind whirled with speculation. His suspicions were aroused as to why such a busy man should be so far from his factory and closer to the Hales’ residence. He had seen the kindling of unspoken admiration in Thornton’s eyes when Margaret had greeted the Master at his dinner party
, and it had been his devilish pleasure to observe the sparks of contention fly between two such passionate natures as theirs during the meal’s first course. A suggestive smile crept over his face as he surmised that the reason for Thornton’s extraordinary contentment might indeed reside in Crampton.
*****
As the Master entered the broken gates of his property, he was sorely tempted to retreat to his office to contemplate the astounding implications of what had just occurred. But he knew that his mother would be waiting to receive his news, so he turned himself toward the gray stone building that had been his home for the past twelve years.
Mrs. Thornton halted her sewing at the first sound of her son’s entry into the house and knew at once by the spry footsteps on the stairs that he had succeeded in his object. She took a long breath to prepare herself.
Her eyes followed him as he quietly walked to the window to look over his domain.
Mr. Thornton gazed out at the mill yard, the scrabble and noise of industry below a comfort to him after the weeks of silence. A soft smile illuminated his countenance as he breathed deeply his contentment. Today the world was at his command. All that he could ever want was within his grasp. With Margaret promised to be his bride, his future spread gloriously before him a brilliant panorama of endless splendor.
“You’ve returned from Crampton then?” his mother prompted, breaking the silence.
“Yes,” he answered as he turned to face her, unable to suppress the smile that tugged at his lips.
Mrs. Thornton’s stomach turned at his blithe expression, and tensed to hear the confirmation of his betrothal. “She has accepted you,” she offered calmly as fact.
“She has,” he returned, a thrill of elation sweeping over him as he said it. He moved to stand before her, endeavoring to temper, for her sake, the bounding zeal that swelled through him at this moment.
She averted her gaze, disconcerted by his glad triumph in an arrangement that would sunder the close ties between them. “When do you marry?” she queried, the words feeling stiff and uncomfortable as she spoke them.
In Consequence: A Retelling of North and South Page 6
