I do not own any of the characters. They are Ms. Gaskell's. I am merely giving my perspective on their lives.
Life in Milton has never been easy for John Thornton and his mother. His sister, Fanny, for the most part was sheltered from trouble. She had been too young to remember the strife they encountered when their father took his own life, leaving them destitute, forced to live hand to mouth. John, however, could still feel the pain of hunger and taste the acidic taste that only came when one's stomach had been empty for too many days. Although John had not been hungry for many years now, the fear of going back to that state kept him up at night and moved him to continue working to make his cotton trade at Marlborough Mills succeed.
As John readied himself for another day, he suspected that something was to be different about today. It did not look different; the smell and haze of Milton greeted him on this morning much the same as it had every day since he lived here. No, there was a different feeling about this day. The feeling one gets deep in their bones telling them that something is about to change. John did not like change for all too often change brought on pain and misery for him and those he loved. However, the feeling was entrenched and would not be pried away. He would have no choice but to hope it a mere bought of paranoia brought on by rumors of striking workers. He did not have time on this day to entertain feelings of doubt or fear of change. He would need to push these feelings down and go about his day as he always did; arriving at the mill early and leaving after everyone had gone home. Today could not be different.
John Thornton arrived at his office at 7:00 am sharp. He began the daily ritual of pouring over books of numbers and ledgers of business transactions. He peered out the window as the workers began their journey across the mill yard to start the machines. He listened intently for the looms to creak to a rhythm. A rhythm that was more beautiful to him than any music could ever be. To John it was the sound of survival. The roar of the machinery in the mills meant that he and his mother and sister could rest easy on this night. God forbid there be a day without that sound. That, to John, would surely be a living hell.
It was midday when the knock on his office door startled him away from his books. It was his foreman Mr. Williams, coming as he did every day with the post.
"Come in", John grumbled anxious to realize that almost half the day was gone and his work was not even close to half way finished.
"Good day, Sir", Mr. Williams greeted John as he entered the room. "I hope you are well today. It appears we have the usual items in the post, Sir, except for this one letter from your landlord, Mr. Bell, I believe."
John groaned at the thought of what might be contained in the letter from Mr. Bell. He had only met the man on three occasions. The first time he made his acquaintance was when he was a young boy working at the drapers. Mr. Bell had placed a rather large order and John had the unwanted pleasure of delivering the goods to Mr. Bell's house in Oxford. Why he couldn't have purchased the drapes from a draper closer to Oxford, John did not know. All he could remember was that he had to carry two large and heavy parcels two miles from the train station to Mr. Bell's house. The man barely said thank you and tipped him very little. The second occasion was when John signed the lease for Marlborough Mills. That was a much happier day for John as it marked the beginning of the end of his life of poverty and obscurity. The third time that John and Mr. Bell met was as equal gentlemen at some party or another, he could not even remember. At any rate, news from any one's landlord was likely bad news and John opened the letter with sickening anticipation.
Dear Mr. Thornton,
I hope that my letter finds you and the mill well. Most likely you are puzzling over the nature of my letter. And as I know you to be a shrewd business man, you are most likely assuming that I mean to bear you bad news. Let me assure you that this is not the case. I have always prided myself on being the silent intellectual when it came to business and I will remain such today. My letter is written to ask of you a favor.
My dearest and oldest friend, Richard Hale and his wife and lovely daughter Margaret are moving to Milton at the end of the month. Mr. Hale was a pastor of a small congregation in the south near Hampshire. He has, for personal reasons and reasons of conscience, that I cannot reveal, decided to leave the church and move to Milton. I have secured him a modest living there as a tutor. The Hales know no one in Milton and do not have the resources to find a suitable home. I was hoping that you would be kind enough to use your connections in Milton and secure them a clean, safe place to reside. They cannot afford much as Mr. Hale will be restricted to only 20 pounds per annum to pay for housing.
I would not ask this favor of a tenant unless it was extremely important to me personally. I thank you in advance and will be happy to compensate you for whatever time you spend on securing their new home.
Warmest regards,
John Bell
John Thornton threw the letter to the side and ran his hands through his dark hair.
"Is there a problem , Sir?" Mr. Williams asked.
John had forgotten that Williams was still in the room but without looking up he replied.
"No, only that I have yet another distraction to add to my list. Mr. Bell has asked me to find a suitable house for a friend and his family. Damn if I don't already have enough on my plate to digest for one day, now I have to act as Bell's errand boy as well?"
"Forgive me, Sir, but I believe that house in Crampton is for lease again. It is not very fancy, but it is cheaply priced and is in a nice part of town…if there is such a thing." Mr. Williams joked.
"Thank you Williams. Please have the landlord meet me there at 3:00 pm this afternoon. If it is livable, then it shall be the place. I cannot be spending my days searching for a house for a disenchanted clergyman and his wife and child."
With that Mr. Williams left John to continue his day. The nagging feeling of change was still palpable to him. However, convinced that Mr. Bell's letter was the least of his worries, he resumed work. Little did he know that the small note of favor was to signal the beginning of a very different life for John Thornton. Weeks past and except for a few letters that John wrote to Mr. Hale- which oddly enough were not answered- to discuss some detail or another about his favor to Mr. Bell, the days past as they always had.
oooOooo
The evening before the expected arrival of the mysterious Hales from the south, John joined his mother and Fanny for dinner. Mrs. Thornton was a stern woman who showed little emotion to anyone; anyone except John. John was her pride and her passion. She had come to rely on John in the years following her husband's death. She knew that John would always be honest with her and that their bond was one that no one could break. Dinner occurred without much talk, which was the usual way. Mrs. Thornton would, on occasion, ask her son how his day had gone and if there had been any new talk of a strike. As any other evening, it was Fanny that filled the silence. However, luckily for both John and his mother, they had little interest in her discussions of gowns and balls and what the latest fashions were coming from London. This afforded them the convenience to sit quietly and not feel the need to find words of conversation to fill the space of the room.
After dinner, the three moved to the sitting room, which was customary and John looked over the newspaper while Mrs. Thornton and Fanny worked on their needlepoint.
"I'll not be home for lunch tomorrow, mother." John began. "I must meet a Mr. Hale and his family at the Milton Hotel. They are moving her from somewhere in the south and our friend Mr. Bell has requested that I assist them in finding suitable housing. "
"John, you do too much for others." Mrs. Thornton replied in here think northern accent. "The Master of Marlborough Mills shouldn't be asked to run errands for his landlord. Mr. Bell would do well to remember that without your management, his rent check won't get paid. It's an insult to your position."
John smiled at his mother. He knew well that she always viewed him as much more important as he actually was. John Thornton, for all of his outward appearance of stern and heartless Master, was, on the inside, still very much the young boy forced to grow up too quickly without a father. He trusted only his mother with his heart and his feelings. He had trusted his father before, and the end was a pain he lived with still.
"Don't worry yourself mother, I have arranged do do this during the lunch hour, I will not be neglecting my duties as Master. Mr. Williams has already secured a house in Crampton, I only wish to be sure that they find it suitable.
"Crampton, that dirty little suburb," Fanny chimed in. "What sort of people would Mr. Bell be acquainted with that would find that a suitable place to live?"
John and Mrs. Thornton gave each other a knowing look. Fanny had been far too young to remember that they themselves had lived many years in a dirty little hovel down in the Princeton district; the area now where most of the mill workers lived.
"He is an ex-clergyman. He is going to teach on Sundays at the Lyceum and take private pupils I believe. Apparently there was some issue of conscience that made it impossible for him to stay with his parsonage and Mr. Bell has secured him the teaching position here. I was thinking that I might meet with him once a week and renew my acquaintance with literature. It was one of my favorite subjects at school when I was young." John looked away for he knew that his mention of having to leave school to become a student of hard labor and life would unintentionally grieve his mother.
"Ex-clergyman with a conscience, " sniffed Mrs. Thornton, "I have never heard of such a dilemma. Surely something scandalous happened to have a man drag his family so far from a life they have always known. The north is so different from the south. I am afraid they will find Milton a bit fast paced for their liking. You said there was a child?"
"Yes, a daughter. Although now that I think on it, Mr. Bell never specified her age. But obviously she must be young to still be under her father's roof. "
"Either young or unattractive, I dare say." Fanny laughed, proud that she had been so quick witted. It was not a frequent occurrence.
John frowned at his sister. When did she become such a snob? Sometimes he wished that she could be told about those terrible years spent in the gutter. He often thought his mother did her a disservice by shielding her all that time and making believe that they weren't starving. Letting Fanny eat her portion of the supper so that she wouldn't go hungry or know that they were on the verge of starving every day. He believed that Fanny would have grown up with much more character and compassion had she been allowed to know the truth. Now it was too late. She was bound to be this sniveling creature that only thought about herself. For whatever his mother's reasoning, the damage was done.
"Well not all women can be blessed with your beauty, Fanny." John retorted. "Otherwise, you would only be another face in a sea of beautiful faces. Certainly, your personality would never afford you to be singled out among a room of similar beauty."
Fanny's mouth gapped open as she appeared to be wounded by John's comment. She look at her mother for support but Mrs. Thornton remained focused on her sewing.
John folded his newspaper and placed it on the stand next to his chair. Standing he kissed his mother on the cheek. "Good night mother...Fanny. I am exhausted from the day's work and I am going to bed. The morning will be here much too soon for my liking and I need to get some sleep."
Mrs. Thornton smiled up at her son and patted his hand. She worried about her son. He worked too hard and spent too little time in the company of ladies worthy of his affections; if such a creature existed. It saddened her that he ascended the staircase to an empty room each night. Although, her own marriage ended tragically, she had known what it had felt like to share a deep love with her husband. She mourned him to this day. She believed that there was only one person made for another; she had found that and treasured the memory.
oooOooo
Morning came much too early for John. He went through his usual rituals of getting dressed, eating breakfast, and going to the mill, pouring over books etc. Before he was aware, the hour had come to meet Mr. Hale at the hotel. John informed Mr. Williams that he would be gone for about an hour and set off.
The streets of Milton seem especially dusty on this day. The air was filled with the acidic smell of industry and it burned John's nostrils. The feeling was welcome, however, as to John it was the smell of progress and profit. It was the smell that he had grown to love. He had only been to the south once and remembered quite well that the clean air and open spaces seem suffocating to him. He would take the dirty smoky air of an industrial city over the countryside any day.
When John arrived at the hotel, he was told that the Hales had stepped out and they were expected back within the hour. "Blast it." He thought to himself. "Now my entire afternoon will be delayed because of this damned favor. Mother is right, I do worry too much about others."
Upon his second return, he was informed that the Hales were still not back but expected at any moment and he was welcome to wait for them in the sitting room. Although John thought this a useless endeavor, his curiosity to see at least one member of the Hale family allowed him to be shown to the sitting room and wait.
It was a small room with oak woodworking throughout. John took a seat near the window so that he could see if Mr. Hale returned. As he watched the street, he noticed an older gentleman escorting a young lady into the hotel. Curiously, the older gentleman immediately exited and walked in the direction of Canute Street. After waiting ten minutes, his anger was rising and he had resolved to leave his regrets with the desk manager and return to the mill. Just as he stood to leave, the sitting room door opened and a young woman of delicate features entered.
"Mr. Thornton, I believe." The girl began. "I am Margaret Hale, Richard Hale's daughter. Will you sit down? My father brought me to the door, not a minute ago, but unfortunately he was not told that you were here, and he has gone away on some business. But he will come back almost directly. I am sorry you have had the trouble of calling twice."
There was an awkward pause during which John could not find his words. He was completely taken aback by the figure that walked in the room. He was expecting a child or a younger girl. The woman in front of him was certainly no little girl. She radiated confidence yet humility. She was simply dressed in a dark colored dress and wearing a close fit straw bonnet. She wore an Indian shawl around her shoulders and John mused that she resembled some exotic empress or another that he had seen illustrated in one of his literature books. She was quite unlike any lady he had ever seen before and he was starting to regret his decision on Crampton. Surely, a lady such as Margaret Hale would not be happy in such a place.