Mr. Thornton arrived at Crampton again with a basket of fruit for Mrs. Hale on one arm and a book in the other. Mr. Hale was determined to continue Mr. Thornton's lessons despite his wife's worsening illness and Margaret's warnings of the imminent arrival of Frederick. Mrs. Hale was now confined to the borrowed water mattress in her room. She no longer ventured down to lie on the sofa in the drawing room. So, Mr. Thornton handed the basket of fruit to Dixon as she led him into Mr. Hale's study.
Mr. Hale requested that Dixon bring up some tea and inquired after Mr. Thornton's mother and sister as his pupil entered the study and made himself comfortable in his usual chair. Mr. Hale was happy to return to his lessons with Mr. Thornton as he had not stayed long the few times he had visited since the strike ended. Mr. Thornton, likewise, was happy to spend time with his tutor as he found that he had missed these evenings of intellectual conversation.
Margaret was sitting with her mother in her bedchamber reading aloud when Dixon answered the bell at the door and Mr. Thornton's deep tones could be heard drifting up the stairs. Margaret felt nervous knowing that he had come again. He had been good to her family, despite her refusal. He had spoken so delicately to her mother as he dropped off the most beautiful fruit that could be found in Milton. But Margaret could not miss Mr. Thornton's eyes avoiding her person. He would hardly acknowledge her presence and refrained from speaking to her directly. Margaret's heart could not take another encounter with him, so she determined to stay in her mother's room until her father's lesson was over. Mrs. Hale, however, was unaware of Margaret's plan and determined that she had enough reading for the night. Mrs. Hale requested Dixon to be sent up to help her prepare for sleep.
Margaret intercepted Dixon on the stairs bringing a tea tray up from the kitchen. Rather than keep her mother waiting, Margaret took the tray from Dixon and sent her up to the mistress's room. Margaret could hear Mr. Thornton's voice rising as he argued his point on some philosophical view. The tones caused a pain in her chest and she felt her pulse increase as she stepped closer to the study. When she reached the study door, Margaret paused took a deep breath in an effort to calm her heart and prepare herself to be in his presence again.
The study door opened and Mr. Thornton went silent. His eyes stared beyond Mr. Hale to the door causing Mr. Hale to turn.
"Oh, Margaret! I had expected you to remain with your mother this evening," Mr. Hale said as Margaret set the tray on the side table.
"She is preparing for bed father and requested Dixon's assistance. I will serve your tea," Margaret explained quietly as she began pouring two cups and arranging some fruit and cheese on a plate.
"Well, thank you my dear. I'm sorry, John, please continue," Mr. Hale requested. Mr. Thornton drew his eyes away from Margaret's back and attempted to continue his argument. He schooled his features and internally berated himself for reacting to her presence as he had. He began explaining his topic again as Margaret handed her father his cup. When Margaret crossed the small room to hand a cup to Mr. Thornton she did not lift her eyes from the floor. He, likewise, did not look to her and only stared at the cup of tea to be sure it didn't spill.
As Margaret prepared to leave the study her father broke into Mr. Thornton's speech again, "Margaret, won't you join us? We are discussing Plato, which I know you do not prefer, but we can certainly take some time to discuss another topic."
"Thank you father, but I have some work to do. I will come back to check on your tea," Margaret answered quietly without lifting her eyes from the floor. Mr. Thornton felt relived as she left the rooms and closed the door behind her. He sipped his tea and continued his argument with as much gumption as he could muster after the interruption.
Margaret did not return to check on the tea for two hours. It was not until she heard the voices of Mr. Thornton and her father grow louder that she realized how long she had neglected them. She descended the stairs ready to make an apology as Mr. Thornton and her father exited the study.
"Father, I am so very sorry. I'm afraid I lost track of time," Margaret exclaimed as she reached the bottom of the stairs and bowed her head with guilt.
"It is no matter, Margaret. We were able to take care of ourselves for the evening. It is getting very late. Would you show Mr. Thornton out? I would like to check on your mother before I retire."
Mr. Hale did not wait for an answer. He quickly shook Mr. Thornton's hand and passed Margaret on the stairs. Margaret stepped forward and allowed Mr. Thornton to walk in front of her down the next staircase to the front door.
"Miss Hale, I hope that I will be welcome here despite…" Mr. Thornton's voice caught in his throat, but he strained to continue, "Despite what has passed between us, as your father's pupil and friend."
Margaret raised her eyes from the floor to try to catch his, but Mr. Thornton would still not look at her. He focused intently on the book in his hand.
"Of course, Mr. Thornton, you are most welcome." She replied quietly lowering her head again trying to coax his eyes to meet hers.
Mr. Thornton raised his head but his gaze went straight from his book to the door. He did not want to see the expression on her face. He was sure it would still to hold cold contempt for him. And he did not want to discover how his emotions would react if he were to look into her eyes. He was determined to remain in control.
"Thank you, Miss Hale." Thornton said. His voice still strained. He reached for the door handle refusing to look back at her. But she stayed behind him to see him out, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly as she tried to repress a smile. He was speaking to her again, for the first time in weeks. And her heart fluttered at the sound of his voice.
Mr. Thornton opened the door and stepped out directly into a man standing on the stoop with his hand up as if he were about to knock.
Startled, the man stepped back lowering his hand. "Oh! I'm sorry sir. Is this not the home of the Hale's?" he asked in a hushed voice.
"It is." Mr. Thornton stated his voice's deep timbre returning. His posture rose to its full intimidating height and he glared down at the man before him. "Who are you?"
Hearing the conversation taking place on the stoop, Margaret stepped forward to see who Mr. Thornton was speaking to.
"Fred!" the name released from Margaret's lips before she had the mind to squelch it. Mr. Thornton turned quickly and could not help but notice Margaret's expression. Her eyes were wide with surprise and seemed to sparkle in a way he had never seen before. Her lips parted as she gasped and a smile threatened but was quickly concealed.
"Margaret!" the man replied in a tone that sounded like relief. He made no effort to hide his smile and began to step forward, but Mr. Thornton still stood between them like a statue. His eyes moved quickly between Miss Hale and the man looking for an explanation.
Margaret's eyes darted to Mr. Thornton. The near smile gone, she almost looked frightened, her eyes panicked.
"Mr. Thornton, may I introduce Frederick…" she stumbled.
"Richardson," Fred chimed in quickly.
"Richardson," Margaret repeated her voice nearly a whisper.
Mr. Thornton made no effort to acknowledge the introduction. No bow, no handshake. He stared down at Fred with a glare that would burn a man who bothered to notice it. Fred, however, did not. His eyes did not move from Margaret as he drank her in. Mr. Thornton's scowl deepened as he felt the slight of the man who would not acknowledge his presence.
"Please, come inside Fred. I will get my father." Margaret said moving from the door to allow him to enter. "Mr. Thornton," she turned to face the man who was still a statue on the front stoop watching her interaction with this stranger, "Good night."
Margaret did not wait for him to respond. She shut the door on him before he had fully stepped away. The impropriety of her action would cause her to feel remorse later, but now all she could think of was hiding the man who had come in the middle of the night.
Mr. Thornton remained on the stoop watching the candlelight flicker behind the curtained window as two shadows embraced to create one. He watched unmoving as the shadows held each other. He could hear a faint laughter through the door. Soon the light began to grow dim and faded into the hall. His head hung low he began his walk back to Marlborough Street. The words he spoke the day of his ill-fated proposal rang in Mr. Thornton's mind, "There are others…" So, he was the "other." Not that smug London lawyer, Henry Lennox, whose face plagued his dreams, but this man. This "Fred" was the person who held Margaret's heart. He was the reason that Margaret could not accept him. He was the gentleman who made Mr. Thornton appear to be a brute in Margaret's eyes.
Of course, Mr. Thornton thought, Fred was soft like Margaret. His features did not have the rough look of a man who had worked all his life. His eyes were light and wide, not the tired or severe eyes of a man who must command authority over his workers by day and run figures by night. This Fred was a gentleman as Margaret defined the word: young, amiable, and carefree. Mr. Thornton had never felt older, more worn, or more inadequate in his life than he did on his walk back to the house in the mill courtyard.