Northern Rain

by Nicole Clarkston

  “My fr-,” she stopped herself. She could no longer claim that relationship. “Miss Genevieve Hamilton introduced me to Mrs Draper, and Mr Rupert Hamilton introduced me to Mr Draper, at a house party given by Mr and Mrs Hamilton.”

  “That matches what I was told. Mr Hamilton was adamant that it was your fixed desire to be introduced to Mr Draper. You pursued the acquaintance and inquired directly and of your own accord into this ‘charity’. Is that true?”

  Her breath quivered in her throat before she responded. “It is.”

  “And your interest in this enterprise, Miss Hale? What was to be your payment?”

  Her nostrils flared in delicate outrage. “I was promised no payment, sir! I wished to volunteer my services for the founding of the new hospital! I believed, and still do, that Milton has desperate need of one.”

  He crossed his arms. “I beg your pardon, Miss Hale, but such altruistic notions are rare. I have learned never to take them at face value in situations such as this.”

  Her lids lowered and she regarded him coolly. “That is unfortunate, Mr Mason. I find that looking for the very best in people tends to inspire them to rise to my expectations.”

  “Naturally,” he drawled, his voice dripping with irony. “I, on the other hand, find that when I look for complete honesty, I rarely stumble upon it. It really is quite a shame.”

  Margaret’s stomach rolled nervously, but she spoke no reply. Mason held her gaze until she at last blinked and lowered her eyes, blushing. How unfair of him to use her well-trained feminine modesty to intimidate her! She gritted her teeth in frustration and looked boldly back once more.

  “Miss Hale,” he spoke softly, tempting her to trust in him. “I am inclined to believe what you say, but your manner is not at all constant. I think it is time we got to the bottom of something. Why did you lie to me once before, and why is John Thornton protecting you? I think I know the answer to the latter, but I would have it in your own words.”

  She drew breath and squared her shoulders. “The past has no bearing here, sir.”

  “On the contrary! It has a great deal of bearing, Miss Hale. You are asking me to exonerate you based upon your word alone- a testimony I have found unreliable.”

  “My presence or lack thereof in that prior case was irrelevant, sir.” She lifted her chin with not a little measure of haughty grace. “Is it so difficult to believe a lady would prefer to keep her affairs private? There was nothing you could gain by coming to me.”

  He chortled derisively. “In that case, Miss Hale, I return to my other question. Why is John Thornton so eager to shield you that he walked three miles in the cold in his condition, only to challenge another magistrate? I have known Mr Thornton a long time, and he is a dogged administrator of the law. Strict to the letter, Thornton is, except where you are concerned. Have you a more personal relationship with him, Miss Hale?”

  She met his eyes in silence, her teeth shut tightly against any response which might slip by her vigilantly sealed lips. He studied her manner for a moment. He had not risen to the rank of inspector without a powerful sense of intuition, and this woman’s body language triggered every faculty he possessed.

  “You know, Miss Hale,” he uncrossed his arms and leaned them conversationally upon his knees, “I have the greatest respect for Thornton. It was his recommendation which secured my position. Without his word, I would likely still be patrolling the neighborhoods. So, you see, I owe him my gratitude.”

  Margaret inclined her head lightly in acknowledgement of the compliment to her John. Mason observed her for a moment, then continued.

  “Thornton has a solid reputation. His word is gold in this town, Miss Hale. He is known everywhere as impartial and unwavering, even to his own detriment.” He paused and his gaze bored into her. “I would hate to think of him throwing that reputation away.”

  “He has not done so,” she countered neutrally. “What has Mr Thornton done to cast suspicion upon himself?”

  Mason looked down at his hands, rubbing them thoughtfully together. “Nothing, so far as I know. You must understand, however, that for a magistrate to insist- twice- that the investigation of a certain person is not warranted… well, you can see why it gives me pause. I would not be the only one, either, if our entire history here were known.”

  Margaret threw her head back in contempt. “You are threatening me?”

  “I need information, Miss Hale, and one way or another, I must learn all that you know. You are protecting someone or something, and Thornton is protecting you. I cannot simply take your word that it has nothing to do with this fraud until I know the whole truth. I will investigate every detail I can find about you, your family, and your connection to Thornton if you do not come out with it.”

  “My affairs are my own, Mr Mason!” she lashed out hotly, forgetting for the moment John’s stern admonition against losing her temper. “I have done nothing untoward, and Mr Thornton is a friend of our family who has only attempted to protect my honour from further defamation of this sort!”

  Mason sighed and rose. “I will look in again tomorrow, Miss Hale. I do hope you have something useful to tell me by then. It would trouble me in the extreme if I had to investigate the man who has been a mentor to me.”

  Margaret took a cleansing breath, willing her ruffled sensibilities back to order. “I cannot imagine you will find that necessary, sir.”

  Mason slid back into his coat at the door, then, taking his hat, turned back to her. “One thing more, Miss Hale. Clearly you do have some manner of relationship with the Drapers, as well as Mr Thornton. I would beg you to consider that in the absence of actual facts, people will assume the worst.”

  She arched her posture with the last burst of her indignation before her feelings of shame overcame her. “Good day, Mr Mason.”

  ~

  Thornton was faring no better on this afternoon. He had limped his painful way home, too hot and anxious to endure a bumping carriage ride. He cursed himself a thousand times over for the fool he had made of himself in Margaret’s drawing room. After that spectacle, it would be a wonder if Mason did not uncover every detail of Margaret’s past- including her brother! He swore bitterly under his breath.

  Poor Frederick Hale had not thwarted the long, dispassionate arm of the navy for so long, only to be carelessly betrayed by some rash lover of his younger sister! He shook his head, mercilessly cutting down on his own lip with his teeth. On the surface, the case of a mutineer seemed rather plain.

  Knowing the Hale family and their sense of compassionate loyalty as he did, however, he could well justify the fellow’s reckless endangerment of his own life. He almost laughed, despite himself, imagining a bolder, masculine version of Margaret. He might like to meet such a man! Someday, perhaps, when all of this was over and Margaret was his wife…. He scowled at the ground.

  The best defence of Margaret and her lost brother that he could conjure was to delay the investigation. He had absolutely no doubt that in time, Margaret would be exculpated of any blame in the matter of the fraudulent charity, but what was revealed before that time was a matter of great concern. It might be a few days yet before they would have word back from Margaret’s attorney friend, and that was assuming her former admirer was willing to help.

  Aside from going to Mason himself and confessing his engagement to Margaret, he was not sure of another way to stall the investigation- and he was not even certain that such a profession would improve matters. It could be that he would only damage his own creditability, as Margaret had feared.

  The only other option to tickle his thoughts was mortifying... unthinkable! The solitary outside party who might be made to speak the truth of Margaret’s affiliation with the Drapers was… his face crumpled in revulsion. Genevieve Hamilton.

  He rejected the thought immediately. That was his last resort.

  ~

  “Papa, what were all of those inspectors doing here before?” Genevieve
Hamilton had been forbidden to stir from her rooms today, for no reason at all that she could discern. She had at last obtained an audience with her father, and she was simply crawling with curiosity over the matter.

  Her father rose from his office chair and stood to look out of the window. “Nothing to concern yourself with, my dear. How did your piano studies go today?”

  “Papa! I beg you, please tell me! Has Rupert done something amiss?”

  The elder Hamilton scoffed. “Probably, but he was not the subject of the inspectors’ questions. They came asking about some friends of yours.”

  “Friends of mine? Papa, surely not! I have no friends who could cause any such disturbance!”

  “No?” he turned round, his fingers smugly hooked into his waistcoat. “Not Emmeline Draper or Margaret Hale?”

  She tilted her head, stunned. “Why, no, Father! My, but they cannot stand one another! I do feel badly on that account,” she exhaled wistfully.

  After that humiliating conversation in the dress shop, she had been too ashamed to seek out either of them again- in fact, she had scarcely left the house for weeks, citing a nonexistent cough. She had been riddled with guilt, knowing that she owed Margaret an apology, but she had lacked the courage to offer it. Her sense of jealousy had been far stronger than her conviction, and she had been powerless to act even on that, with Mrs Thornton a witness to her disgrace. Surely he despised her now! And then there had been that awful accident at the mill, leaving him broken and ruined! No, it had been best for her to quietly disappear for a time.

  “Oh, you needn’t feel badly for Miss Hale,” her father was laughing. “Nor Emmeline Draper! They are quite comfortable enough, I daresay.”

  “Papa, please tell me what you mean!”

  Still chuckling to himself, he tossed her the newspaper and she caught it rather awkwardly. “The Drapers are doubtless on their way back to Italy with a tidy fortune. As for Margaret Hale, we shall soon see what she is made of.”

  Genevieve read in staggering disbelief; how her oldest school friend and her new husband had fleeced the residents of the city and any number of wealthy donors, and how Margaret Hale was implicated in the whole sordid business. Grief and remorse shattered her. “Oh, Papa! I cannot believe it!” she cried brokenly.

  “Fascinating, is it not?” he queried.

  “I cannot credit any of it! I thought I knew Emmeline!”

  He chortled. “We may think we know a good number of people. I always thought there was a callousness about that woman. She has done rather curiously, I must say.”

  Something intriguing in his tone caught her attention. “You knew of this?”

  “Me? I had some hints before it broke. That is the extent of my involvement. It was rather timely information, particularly as regards Miss Hale.”

  Genevieve shook her head vigorously. “Margaret would have had nothing to do with all of this, I can vouch for that!”

  “Can you?” His bushy eyebrows jumped challengingly. She shrank somewhat. “In any case, it matters little whether she was actually involved or not. It buys me the time I need, and for that I am thankful.”

  “Time for what, Papa?”

  “Time to get Thornton’s head straight! Unless I miss my guess, the ‘virtuous and upright’ Margaret Hale will leave him holding his hat. Those thoroughbred maids are peculiar like that,” he shrugged, smiling. “Do you still fancy Thornton, my girl?”

  Genevieve blanched in apprehension. “Papa, what have you done?”

  “Offered him an opportunity, that is all. I think he will find it appealing, once the besotted fog clears from his thinking. Ho, my girl, you should see your face! You need not fear for Margaret Hale; she will be well looked-after, but Thornton is mine. He will come round, you will see, and greatly to his own advantage I daresay.”

  “I did not want to be forced upon him!” she began to whimper. “Papa, can you not understand?”

  “Bah, no one is forcing him to do anything! Ten days, that is my guess. A fortnight at the outside. He will want to speak to you alone, I should think, so take care to look well. The poor man will be wanting some feminine comfort.” Hamilton turned back to the window.

  Genevieve Hamilton, sensing the interview was over, rose numbly and made her way to her own room. What power had her father over the willful and magnetic John Thornton? She could not imagine the man caving to her father’s demands simply because Margaret Hale’s honour had been impugned in the paper. What more was there to all of this?

  Perhaps, she mused, her father believed Margaret had something to hide, and that she would rather flee the public eye than withstand scrutiny. She had family elsewhere; might she not leave Milton for good to live quietly with them? Might she betray and hurt John Thornton in the process? A spark of possessive conceit flickered in her bosom. How dare the woman! Could Thornton really return to her, if Margaret Hale were to abandon him as her father expected?

  She took a seat at her vanity and wiped her indignant tears. Blinking into her mirror, she realized that her fit of pique had done her appearance no good at all. Her brown eyes glinting in resolve, she lifted her chin and reached for her cosmetics jar. Whatever did happen, she would be at her best… just in case.

  ~

  “Henry!” Margaret hurried to the drawing room, her cheeks becomingly rosy, when Dixon announced to her that she had a caller. “I did not expect you so soon!”

  Henry Lennox rose stiffly, his expression tight. “Good afternoon, Miss Hale.”

  Margaret slowed her approach, the hand she had outstretched in greeting lowering in sorrow. The formality of his address grieved her. “I- I am glad you have come,” she finished softly.

  He pressed his lips together. “I saw the papers yesterday. I thought you might need some advice.”

  “Oh. Did you not receive my letter, then?”

  His hand, still holding his legal case, twitched involuntarily. “I did. Just as I was leaving it arrived. I read it on my journey.”

  “I see.” She lowered her gaze. She had wondered how Henry would take the news of her engagement to John. Apparently, not very well.

  Henry frowned, shifted his grip on his legal case, and looked anywhere but at her. “Your cousin sends her condolences on this unfortunate circumstance.”

  Margaret’s eyes snapped back up. “That is good of her! I was worried how it was all received.”

  “Your aunt, I fear, has taken it somewhat worse.”

  “Oh, dear,” she groaned. “I am so very sorry to have vexed my aunt! Surely this will cause her some difficulties among her friends.” Margaret’s expression was so heartbroken, her familiar voice so gentle and sincere, that Henry’s own manner softened in sympathy.

  “Come, Miss Hale, we shall find a way to clear it all up. Perhaps if you start at the beginning.”

  Margaret offered her old friend a seat and some refreshments and slowly went over the details of her acquaintance with the Drapers. He listened attentively, jotting down a few notes as she spoke. “And this inspector,” he clarified as he wrote, “what reason has he to doubt your word? I cannot imagine him pressing a lady so!”

  Margaret hesitated. “When Frederick was here, just as he was boarding the train to come see you in London, someone who knew him saw him and attacked him. The man died later, and I had been recognized at the station with Frederick, so they came to ask me some questions. I was afraid to lead them back to Frederick….”

  Henry narrowed his eyes. “You lied? Margaret, I am surprised at you,” he blurted, slipping back to their old informal ways.

  “I am heartily ashamed of it still, but I was so afraid for Frederick I did not know what to do!”

  “What happened after that?”

  “The doctors found that Leonards had died of some long-time ailment which had nothing to do with Frederick. The… the magistrate on the case called off the investigation.”

  Henry’s frame stilled. “Would that be Tho
rnton?”

  She swallowed hard and nodded.

  He pinned her with an exacting stare, allowing her to squirm under his unflinching gaze for a long minute. “Margaret, I will ask you this only once. Do you owe this Thornton anything? Are you a willing party to this engagement? So help me, Margaret, if that man holds anything over you….”

  “Oh, no, Henry!” Scandalized, she almost laughed in astonishment at his assumptions. “I care very deeply for Mr Thornton. I… I know how it must appear to you. I would not have wished to… to cause you any pain, but that is the truth.”

  He stared back at her for another moment, as if trying to determine whether she were in earnest. Just then, the front knocker sounded. Both were relieved enough to interrupt their tense conversation to receive the caller, though Margaret feared and expected Mason once more.

  It was John who soon walked round the corner. He stopped in surprise upon seeing another man standing so closely to his beloved Margaret. Lost for words, and still somewhat faint from his long walk, he merely glared back in wary silence.

  “John!” Sensing all the more the awkwardness of the situation, Margaret rushed to his side- though not without a backward glance at her other caller. “John, you ought not have come!” she chided protectively.

  He turned his raised brow on her. “Would you prefer to be alone with your guest?”

  She shot him an annoyed glance. “Henry Lennox,” she spoke crisply, with a firmness meant to chasten his flash of jealousy, “this is my fiancé, John Thornton.”

  The two men squared off across the room, taking opposite seats and observing one another guardedly. Margaret sighed in exasperation. What more confirmation did either of them need of her loyalties? She chose a seat nearer to John than to Henry, and noted some of the tension leaving his features.

  They spent an uncomfortable half hour discussing the particulars of the Draper case, but slowly she watched the two men lower their defences. She was proud of them both, by the time they had done, and of the keen intellects and legal understanding each possessed. What a relief that they both wished to come to her aid!