She rose with him. “John, I should like to come to know her better. I think I will invite her to tea again in a day or two.”
Stunned, he gaped down at her. “Mother! I thank you, but…” he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. At such a turn in his mother’s regard, he wished to eagerly promote relations between the two women dearest to him, but Margaret’s wishes would not permit it.
“Mother,” he began again, more gently, “to protect her honour at present, our family must not be seen to take any particular interest in hers. Nothing more, nothing less than we have always done.”
She peered over her glasses at him, the discouragement he hid behind his words shining clearly to her. “Then you may not visit her as readily as you have done of late?” Her brow clouded. “I am sorry, John,” she told him sincerely.
He pressed his lips tightly together. “I may see her on Wednesday. I shall speak more to her then.”
She nodded silently. He leaned near and embraced her tenderly, as he had not done in her recent memory. “I intend to go over my account books this evening, Mother. Do not wait up for me.”
~
“Why, Fanny, dear! How good of you to call.” Emmeline Draper proudly showed her guest to a seat and signaled for refreshments.
“I was pleased to find you at home today,” Fanny replied, with only the barest hint of querulousness in her tones. She took the offered seat, and her quick gaze flitted about the room. It was impressively appointed, at no little expense, she was sure. This, certainly, was the kind of company she ought to be keeping!
“Ah, yes. Randall had me about the hospital’s business yesterday,” Emmeline answered importantly. “Tell me, dear Fanny,” she glanced unconsciously toward the door, “how does your mother today?”
“Mother! Oh, I believe she is well enough. Why do you ask?”
“I see.” Emmeline’s eyes darted once more toward the door. “I might have expected her to accompany you, that is all. I wondered if she were unwell.”
Fanny scoffed. “Mama is never ill. I may call on my own acquaintances without begging her leave, to be sure! I do not think I have called on you since your marriage, and I said to myself that was neglectful, but here I have come to visit at last!” She flicked at an unruly feather from her hat as she spoke.
Emmeline Draper relaxed a precious little. “You have not spoken to your mother at all today?” she asked cautiously.
Fanny sniffed. “Why, of course I have, do not be silly! She has shut herself up with all of the linens today. Goodness me, she has set the housemaids to bring down basketfuls of cloth such as I have never seen, and whole spools of marking thread! I cannot think what she might be doing, but she could not be called away.”
Emmeline pursed her lips. “How very peculiar. Well, now, I suppose it is nothing to trouble yourself over. I expect that Mr Thornton’s private affairs are not to be aired.”
“My brother! John has no private affairs, I am convinced. Oh, mercy me, and that is what I came to ask of you!” She leaned forward in her seat, as though she were sharing a great secret. “I am sure that he intends to propose to our dear Genevieve within the fortnight!”
Emmeline’s forehead creased. “I thought Mr Thornton had no private affairs. What makes you so certain?”
Fanny looked thunderstruck, caught in her own fabrication. “Well, to be sure, he has none yet. He is very quiet, you know, but Mama sent for that great diamond ring out of her jewelry box and gave it to him yesterday. My maid told me all about it later,” she blithely informed her hostess. “Now, if you ask me, he is only waiting to have it sized, and of course to speak with Mr Hamilton.”
Emmeline watched that stray feather fall from Fanny’s tawdry hat and tried not to snicker. “I heard that Mr Hamilton left for London yesterday afternoon, on some urgent matter. He is expected to be there some days.”
“How did you… why, of course, John had heard the same, naturally,” Fanny assured her friend. “That is why he has not spoken yet, you know.”
“Indeed. Well, my dear, you may be secure that I will keep these things to myself, but you really ought to tell dearest Gen. She has become rather despondent, waiting as she has with no address from Mr Thornton. Why, I should think after yesterday that she will barely stir from her room! It would encourage her to hear that not all hope is lost; do you not think?”
“Oh, dear me, that is what I had come to ask of you!” Fanny aired her face with just the perfect touch of distress mixed with self-importance. “You see, it would come so much better from you! After all, you are married now, and I think it would sound so much less indelicate if you were to bring it up, do not you?”
Emmeline cracked a sly smile. “Perhaps we could call together, is that what you suggest?”
“Oh, why, do you not think it would be far lovelier if you and I and Genevieve, and perhaps her brother- and John too, if I can get him- would it not be so nice for us all to have tea here in your splendid new home?”
Emmeline nodded in wide-eyed innocence. “That does sound lovely, Fanny. I shall see to the invitations.”
“How wonderful! I knew you would wish to help me give our friend such glad tidings. Oh, goodness me, only look at the hour! I am afraid I must be going, Em.”
The fluttering guest made her farewells and departed, leaving a highly bemused hostess standing in her elaborate foyer. Sighing and rolling her eyes, Emmeline Draper turned and walked to her husband’s study. Randall was not there, of course- he would not return from his club for hours yet- but the study was not entirely empty. She entered and locked the door behind herself.
“Good gracious Emma, what sort of flighty goose was that? I could hear her honking from in here!”
“That,” she informed her guest, “is the sister of a machine and the daughter of a she-dragon, who has never lifted a finger for the whole of her life. I do not see how she got out of her own front door, much less found my house all alone!”
Her companion smirked. “Fanny Thornton? What intrigue has her sneaking out of the house?”
“I suspect her ultimate goal is an engagement, but not necessarily between Mr Thornton and Genevieve. She really ought to leave the romantic scheming to her mother… no, perhaps not.” She shuddered. “I hope I may never see that woman again!”
“Come, Emma, I did not come to talk about the Thorntons. I must be gone soon!”
She shook the vision of the scowling, disapproving matron from her memory. “Forgive me, Rupert. Perhaps you can help me think of other things.”
Rupert Hamilton grinned in satisfaction. “I believe I can.”
~
“Does it fit, Jenny?” Margaret tied the sash of the new frock behind the child’s back and waited for her to turn. Fleetingly, she rubbed her burning eyes, dropping her hand quickly so the girl did not see.
Jenny stretched her arms forward experimentally, her face alight. “Thank yo’, Miss Marg’et!” she beamed. “’Tis just like yo’rs!”
Margaret smiled. Indeed, the material in the child’s new school frock was from Margaret’s own personal dress bolt. She had lacked the courage to show her face again in Gentry’s dress goods, but as sleep had fled from her the previous night, she had determined to make herself useful. She had finished the simple garment just before dawn, and it was now late afternoon.
“You look wonderful, Jenny!” she embraced the girl encouragingly. “I am quite sure you will be very clever in this new dress.”
The child’s eyes rounded and she nodded, assured that her beloved Miss Marg’et spoke the truth. This dress would only naturally make her smarter and able to study harder, because Miss Marg’et said so.
Margaret patted the girl’s cheek. “Now, go take it off, and save it for school, do you understand?” She sat back on her heels as the girl scampered off, then as an afterthought, rose to her feet and dusted her skirts.
“Thank yo’, Miss,” Mary’s small voice came from behind
her.
She turned. “It is little enough, but if it lends her confidence for school, I am pleased to be of service. What of the other children, Mary, is there anything they need?”
Mary’s cheeks pinked somewhat and she ducked her head.
Margaret flushed in sudden understanding. “Oh, Mary, do forgive me! I did not mean to imply that Nicholas was unable to…” she stopped herself, feeling that the apology would also sound like an insult. “I only wished to be fair to the other children, you know,” she amended.
Mary hesitated. “The lads’ll need shoes soon ‘nough, but Da’s sure, wi’ me workin’ now….”
“Working? At the mill? I had not heard of this.”
Mary blushed pleasantly. “I start t’morrow, Miss, cookin’ a’ the Mill. Master Thornton told Da’ this mornin’, a’ was ready.”
Margaret was smiling, but her eyes drifted sadly to her hands. “That is good to hear, Mary,” she whispered.
“Miss?”
Margaret steadied herself and met her young friend’s questioning eyes. “Yes, Mary?”
Mary glanced about, ensuring herself that the children were not immediately at hand. “Is aught amiss? I know,” it was Mary’s turn to look regretful, “I know I’m not Bess, but....”
Margaret took the girl’s hand with a reassuring smile. “No, but you do not need to be, Mary.”
Mary’s shy pleasure shone forth as her eyelashes batted. She cleared her throat and boldy asked her question. “’Tis only, Miss, that yo’ and the Master… yo’ look sad today, Miss.”
Margaret’s brow furrowed. “Perhaps a little, but it is nothing to worry about. You need not think poorly of Mr Thornton; he has done nothing wrong.”
Mary’s slim frame heaved a sigh of relief. “I’m ri’ glad to ‘ear, Miss! Da says yo’ll make the Master ‘appy.”
Margaret chuckled softly at Mary’s brazen innocence. “I am glad he thinks so, but there is no formal understanding between Mr Thornton and myself. Someday, I hope, but not yet.”
Mary looked confused. “Yo’re na’ to be the Mistress? But me da’, ‘e said….”
Margaret shook her head gently. “Do not fret about it just now, Mary. Time shall resolve everything, I am sure.” She watched the girl through fatigue-laced eyes, and even in her profound weariness she could detect the other’s hesitation and distress. “Mary? Is there something else?”
Mary gasped uncertainly, glancing between Margaret and the floor. “Nay… ‘tis naught, Miss.”
“Mary,” Margaret spoke kindly, but firmly. “What is troubling you?”
Mary shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at Margaret, but she could not escape. Finally, she relented. “I were wond’rin’, Miss… wha’s it like?”
Margaret blinked questioningly, her head tilted. “What is what like, Mary?”
Mary’s face bloomed her embarrassment, but she forged ahead. “I- I meant to… to talk to a man… but more than talkin’, if yo’ take my meanin’, Miss.”
“Oh,” Margaret breathed. She stared, glassy-eyed, at some imaginary object on the far wall of the house. How was she to answer such a question? And yet, how could she refuse to at least attempt it? Mary had no other to turn to, and she was at a very trying age for a girl. Indeed, many of her age mates, other factory workers, were likely already wed.
“I hardly know, Mary,” she replied at length. “I have always spoken to men; gentlemen and famers alike, more than most girls my age because they would call at the parsonage. I am perhaps a poor example. I little understood the difference between simple talk and more meaningful conversation between the sexes until I had made a rather notable blunder.” She paused here to interject a rueful laugh. “It seems I have learned little since then! I continue to err, Mary.”
Mary’s abashed expression had evolved to one of awe. “Yo’, makin’ a mistake, Miss?”
“Yes, indeed! I have a host of regrets.”
Mary pondered this for a moment. It seemed unfathomable to her that one of Margaret’s education and poise might be fallible and human as any other. Such an admission, by one she so deeply admired, washed away some of her fears. Nearly trembling in her curiosity, she dared ask the one final question to which she longed to have an answer.
“I’m minded that Bess used to go on ‘bout yo’ at the big ‘ouse, but yo’ didn’a like the Master. Is… is ‘e diff’rent, some’ow Miss? I mean,” she cringed, chewing her lip uncomfortably, “yo’ fancy ‘im? ‘Ow’s to know ‘e’s betta’ than ‘nother?”
Margaret’s expression softened. “I suppose one can never know for certain, but Mr Thornton has earned my respect. Yes, perhaps that is a good place to begin. I disliked him very strongly at first, you are right, but I slowly began to admire his qualities. He has been very kind, even at a time when I treated him shamefully. I expect it was that which convinced me that he was truly a better man than I had allowed him to be.
“Circumstances of late have brought us more frequently into one another’s company, and we have at last become rather friendly. He…” she interrupted herself with a bashful smile and a soft laugh, “he is actually quite a charming man. He cares deeply for his family and… and for me.” Her tones were hushed, and she shook her head in humble amazement.
Mary was grinning and hiding behind her hand in her embarrassment. The teasing sparkle in her eyes, as much as her next words, reminded Margaret very much of her dear sister. “’E’s nice to look on, too,” Mary snickered.
Margaret laughed aloud at this unexpected pronouncement from shy, invisible Mary. “Quite!” she agreed, and the two dissolved into helpless giggles.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Margaret paced restlessly by the window of the drawing room, resisting the urge to draw the drapes aside again. Her eyes drifted frequently to the clock, each time finding the hands scarcely advanced since the last time she had looked. She blew out a sharp breath, annoyed with herself for her impatience.
She was aching to see him, but did not know how she would bear the lingering disappointment in his eyes. How strenuously he would work upon her to weaken her resolve! Yet, she must remain firm. She must not yield to her heart’s desire or the longing in his voice.
She blinked, drawing a deep breath. If only she felt certain that she was doing right! His arguments had tormented her and cost her two nights’ slumber. Truly, what was the harm in surrendering now, in binding herself to him in the sight of others? Could his business woes really be so serious? Had she any right to demand such patience from him, placing- as he had said- the interests of commerce before the needs of his heart?
Her breath became shallow and quick once more as she turned these things over in her mind. Her entire being was tense now, and when the knocker sounded she nearly leaped for fear and pleasure. Forcing herself to still, she turned away from the window and tried to compose her features. She could hear Dixon opening the door for him, and she clenched her fists in a final effort at self-control.
Seconds later, he strode in, his eyes only for her. Margaret tried to hold herself steady, but like an eager soldier breaking rank, her steps had carried her halfway across the room before she was even aware that she had moved.
His arms enclosed around her, and words were neither necessary, nor even possible for several moments. One hand caressed her cheek and tickled softly over her neck to cradle the back of her head, while the other tenderly stroked between her shoulders. His lips, soft and oh! so expressive, grazed over hers, and she found herself smiling irrepressibly in his embrace.
Pulling back only slightly, he trailed the backs of his fingertips reverently down her cheek and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Good afternoon, Love,” he whispered.
“Do you intend to greet me like this on each of your visits?” she teased lightly.
“You object?” rumbled the deep voice she had come to adore.
“I ought to,” she smiled, “but I am finding it rather difficult.”
“Be generous with me, Margaret. After all, I shall have to make do with only one such visit per week, and even this must be short.”
“John, I do not mean to-”
He shushed her gently, and by a most enjoyable means. “Margaret, I do not speak reprovingly. I will respect what you have asked of me, only do not deny me this one moment in your arms. I have thought of nothing else since last I saw you.”
She rested her head against his chest, relishing his closeness. It would be so brief, but it was a taste, she hoped, of what she might daily look forward to. John’s hand slid down her back, pressing her closer to the dark wool of his coat. Margaret’s clamouring spirits found a moment of delicious peace, as though she had been some wayfaring stranger and at last had come to the comfort of her natural home.
“Is this how you meant to sway me?” she spoke thickly against his chest.
“Sway you, my love?”
She raised her head. “I expected you to object once more to waiting.”
His eyes sparkled with something- was it mischief? “Why, naturally, my Margaret! You did not expect me not to try, did you?” He lifted his fingers and stroked down her face again, laughing softly as her cheeks dimpled in a deep smile.
“In truth, you may rest easy, Love. I may disagree with you, but I will honour your wishes. I can but admire your determination, and I know your motives to be true and pure. Indeed, if I were so readily able to convince you to abandon what was so important to you, I might come to respect you the less for it, and you might learn to resent me. No, I humbly submit to your request, my love.”
Margaret studied him in astonishment. “Truly? I… I had not thought you would yield so easily!”
He drew her to his chest again, dropping his cheek to the top of her head. “I did not say it was easy! Please, let us speak no more of it now. Let me imagine for just a moment that I may hold you thus for hours yet.”
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