A/N: Merry late Christmas to all of you! Please consider leaving a review to let me know what you think. If anyone would like to be a beta for this story, please let me know. I have never formally had a beta before, but another set of eyes is always helpful.
The Sum of All Wisdom
"The sum of all human wisdom will be contained in these two words: Wait and Hope."
Alexander Dumas – The Count of Monte Cristo
Chapter 2 - Promise
Relived to finally have the passenger cart to herself, Margaret found that she was able to relax at last. The first leg of her trip was all too crowded. It was during that time that, for the first time since she had made the decision to travel alone, that she regretted it. Now that those around her had left, Margaret once more took comfort in her independence.
A twinge of guilt began to permeate her mind as she thought of the trouble that she had undergone to make this unconventional journey. Leaning her head against the cushion, she closed her eyes and remembered the chaos that this past week had held on Harley Street.
Monday evening looked to be an early one for the London set. The Lennoxes, Aunt Shaw and Margaret spent the majority of dinner speaking of the exhibition as well as discussing their plans to return to see more of it over the following days. When the party retired to the drawing room, Margaret found herself in a chair very near Henry. She had yet to forgive him for his behavior toward Mr. Thornton earlier that afternoon, but remained in civil conversation with him all the same.
A footman entered the drawing room with a letter for Mrs. Shaw. After taking some time to read the short missive, Margaret's aunt addressed her in a way that ensured that she had the audience of all who were present.
"Margaret, I have just received a letter from that tradesman that we met today at the exhibition." Margaret was discomfited by her aunt's heavy handed insult toward a man who was not even present. "He wanted to let you know that if you needed an escort back to Milton, that he would like to offer his services." The look that her aunt shared Edith was not missed by Margaret. "It seems that if you wish to leave by Wednesday morning he will make himself available, though he cannot stay beyond that point." Margaret smiled at the generosity of Mr. Thornton, knowing that he would only delay his trip to Wednesday to accommodate her. Mrs. Shaw continued. "He also goes forth to say that if you wish to leave on Friday that his friends would be happy to escort you home." Aunt Shaw aimed yet another pointed glance at her daughter. "He adds that he has entrusted his sister's wellbeing to their care and that I should not be worried to release you to them." Mrs. Shaw tossed the letter aside with a disdainful snort.
"That is very kind of Mr. Thornton." Margaret responded, attempting to conceal the blush that she developed due, she was certain, to the close scrutiny of those around her.
"You cannot seriously be considering traveling with that man unaccompanied can you?" Edith spoke, looking at Margaret as though she had just said the most ludicrous idea ever imagined. "Why that would be," Edith paused as if attempting to find just the right words, "why, Margaret, that would be simply indecent!"
Unable to control the slight laugh that escaped unbidden, Margaret attempted to reason with the unreasonable. "It would be no more indecent than my traveling alone with Henry." She offered him a smile that indicated that no ill will was meant to be read into her words. "Which I have said that I will not be doing, as the notion of your spending all day on a train would be ridiculous." Margaret had no particular wish to travel alone with either man, but at least Mr. Thornton would not be going out of his way to escort her.
Henry smiled at Margaret, he was determined not to let some manufacturer get the better of him on this accord. "It would be no trouble, Margaret. I assure you that it would be my most distinct pleasure." The tone of his voice made Margaret feel ill at ease.
"Thank you for the generous offer, Henry, but I am afraid that I cannot accept." Margaret did not like to be placed in this situation; this was but the first time that she had even seen Henry after his visit to Helstone, and she was not prepared to spend hours with him in solitude.
"Margaret, you must see reason." Edith came to her cousin, gracefully lowering herself to the ottoman near Margaret's feet. "You are under our care, and it is our will, nay, our duty to see you home safely."
Unable to keep a smile from her face, she made an attempt to see hear her cousin out. It was not news to Margaret that nothing would please Edith more than for her to spend time with, travel with, and to ultimately marry Henry Lennox, though perhaps not in that particular order. "You are a dear, Edith. I can assure you that I would be perfectly safe traveling with either the Latimers or Mr. Thornton."
"But Margaret!" Edith pouted. "I insist that you ride home with Henry, or, or, well, you shall simply have to ride home alone." Edith crossed her arms and looked about the room with an air of satisfaction. Having lived with Edith for nearly a decade, Margaret knew well how to handle her.
"Very well, Edith, if you insist." Both Edith and Henry turned toward her. "I will leave Thursday, and I shall travel alone, it has been settled, and I will brook no further arguments on the subject."
Margaret could not help but laugh thinking back upon the remainder of the week. Simply because she had said that she would take no further arguments certainly did not keep Edith, Aunt Shaw and even Henry from making them. Alas, it was Thursday and Margaret's plan had prevailed.
As the train pulled into Outwood station, Margaret was thankful that the sun had yet to set. She had walked these streets many times, yet felt much more comfortable with some light to lead her way. Anxious to get home, eager to see her mother well, she could hardly wait to tell her of the wonders that she had been fortunate enough to see.
Not wishing to disturb Dixon, as she may have been needed by her mother, Margaret let herself in the house. She removed her coat, placed her bag by the door and glanced at her reflection in the mirror, an action which she immediately regretted, as she proved to be much worse for wear than she had anticipated. "Mother, Father, I am home," Margaret said in raised tones while attempting to straighten her crooked bonnet and her errant mane. "It was wonderful, I cannot wait to tell you all about it." Finding her task fruitless, she removed her bonnet decided that a bath would do her a world of good.
"You will never guess who I ran into." Margaret all but yelled up the stairs as she began to climb them. "Mr. Thornton of all people, all the way in London. We actually got on rather well, if you will believe it. He and his sister were there, we just happened upon them when-" she stopped suddenly as she turned into her father's study. Her breath was drawn from her when she saw the very man whose name had just been on her lips sitting across from her father looking at her with a welcoming smile.
"Miss Hale, it is good to see you again." Mr. Thornton said as he stood to greet her. Margaret quickly thought over the words that she had practically shouted through the Hale home in an attempt to both calm herself and gauge the level of mortification that she should feel in that moment.
Attempting to repress the overwhelming sense of discomfiture, she put her hand out, which he quickly took. "How unexpected to see you again so soon." Margaret added hastily.
"Why should it be unexpected, Margaret? This is Mr. Thornton's usual day of study." Her father's voice refocused Margaret's scattered thoughts.
After pulling her hand back, she offered some semblance of a smile, hesitated as though to say something, then with a shake of her head, quickly turned away from their guest to kneel by her father's side. "I have missed you, Papa." Mr. Thornton was warmed by the smile that was shared between father and daughter. "Is there anything that I can get for you?" Margaret asked.
"Having you home does me a world of good, child." Margaret answered with a kiss. Mr. Thornton was amazed at the easy love that she and her father possessed. They shared a form of silent devotion that he could feel yet not penetrate. Even upon his initial visits to the Hale home, he remembered finding comfort in his time at the Hale's home. Soon he came to value this room as a refuge, one which held all of his hope for a future that he had never before imagined. If he were to examine his heart in that moment, he could not have deciphered what he felt, he simply found himself ever trapped somewhere between desire and desperation. If the events of this past week had offered anything to him, it was the knowledge of where he stood in relation to Margaret. The friendship that was offered to him appeared to be genuine, and though far from what he yearned for, had a much less bitter taste than his alternative.
"How is mother?" Margaret asked, drawing Mr. Thornton from his thoughts, having wondered the same thing from the moment that he had arrived.
"Not well, I fear." Mr. Hale's words came as a blow. Margaret had to steady herself from the shock of the gravity in her father's voice. Before her trip, he had yet to admit that her mother was so much as ill. She allowed her eyes to meet Mr. Thornton's for a shared moment of clear understanding.
"I should go to her." Mr. Thornton watched as Margaret walked to the door, she paused once more as though she would say something more but continued on her way in silence.
As he sat staring at an empty threshold, Mr. Thornton could not help but wonder how she had arrived. He presumed that had Lennox accompanied her that he would be here at this very moment. As that was not the case, he took some solace in knowing that despite declining his offer for accompaniment, she must have declined Lennox's as well.
The sun had long since set and the lesson was for all intents and purposes over, however, Mr. Thornton was reluctant to return to Marlborough Mills. His disinclination to leave was due to a much different reason, a much different Hale, in fact, than he would have thought himself to have earlier in the day. The morning had passed slowly with no small amount of anticipation on his part. When Margaret had returned his note in London, she had indicated that she would be returning this evening, his normal day of study with her father. There was a longing that he could not deny, a need to not only be in Margaret's presence but to know how he would be received. As the evening progressed Mr. Thornton was coming to find that there was a need stronger than his own in this household.
"Mr. Hale, I should go. I feel that you may need to spend time with your family, as your daughter has just returned." Soon after Margaret had made her way into her mother's room, Mr. Thornton thought it prudent to take his leave.
"Oh, no John, please do not feel the need to leave." Mr. Hale said all too quickly. "If you have things that you need to tend to at home, I understand full well, but please do not leave on our account."
Mr. Thornton was more than pleased to stay, though the strain that he saw in his dear friend's eyes was disconcerting. It was settled that he would stay, and the two fell into an easy discussion on the new machinery as well as other inventions which were featured at the exhibition. Mr. Thornton quickly found that the topic did not matter, so long as it was far removed from the sadness that permeated the walls of the little Crampton house. Neither could have given an accurate account of the passage of time when they were interrupted by a knock at the door.
"I am sorry for the intrusion." Margaret said as she entered the room to a warm welcome. Exhaustion had long since settled in, however rest would not find her so soon after such a trying visit with her mother. "I do not wish to keep you, Mr. Thornton, but I am quite in need of refreshment, if you are staying, I will have a kettle put on that will satisfy all of us."
"I would enjoy that, Miss Hale." She nodded to both her father and Mr. Thornton before making her way below stairs. The preparation was up to her alone, as Dixon had taken vigil by her sleeping mother's bed; it hardly mattered, since the move to Milton, Margaret had found herself to be no stranger to the kitchen. After stoking the fire she filled the large copper kettle and with much effort, placed it directly over the flames. After a few moments of rummaging, she was able to find a partial loaf of bread and jam and started to work, happy to have herself distracted by so menial a task. By the time the kettle began to whistle Margaret was satisfied with the offerings that she had prepared.
As she was not accustomed to carrying a full tea tray upstairs, Margaret had to be incredibly cautious with her footing. The clock was good enough to wait until both feet were situated firmly on the landing before announcing that it was midnight. As she counted the chimes, she felt ashamed that she had suggested Mr. Thornton stay without taking note of the hour. With such an offer, she thought that he may have felt that it would be indecorous to decline. There was nothing to be done for it now.
As she made her way back into the company of men, Margaret rested the tray upon its usual table and began to quickly prepare the tea despite being certain that it had yet to have ample opportunity to steep. She brought Mr. Thornton's tea to him first; her father's was not far behind.
"How did you find your mother." Mr. Hale finally asked as Margaret was taking her seat.
Margaret looked between Mr. Thornton and her father. "She is sleeping now, Papa. Dixon is with her." She did not wish to tell him that her mother did not recognize her for some time, that when she finally did, she only cried out about not seeing Frederick once more before she leaves this earth. She did not know how to tell her father how his wife lamented ever coming to this God-forsaken place and where she placed the blame. No, Margaret would share none of that. Her one small consolation lay in knowing that Fred could now have received her letter. The silence that surrounded them was not unwelcome, as all preferred to enjoy what Margaret had prepared for them rather than to share the thoughts that swam unspoken through the room.
"Papa, you would not believe the expanse of the crystal palace, am I right Mr. Thornton?" Margaret forced a smile and a lighter topic.
"It was impressive." Mr. Thornton agreed.
"It was so grand that when you entered you could not see from one end to the other. It was built around many of the trees that were already standing, so it was as if we were taking a stroll through Hyde Park while having the opportunity to see the best from all over the world." Margaret added. She too felt the need to absorb herself in another subject at the moment.
"If it was so large, I am surprised that you found one another." Mr. Hale remarked. He had only visited Hyde Park once, though if his memory served him properly it was a vast expanse of land.
Mr. Thornton looked toward Margaret, he had thought the same thing many times over the past few days. It seemed almost providential that they met one another as they had. He vividly recalled the initial thrill at her sight, a feeling which took no time in becoming complete resentment.
"Captain Lennox wished to learn more about the cotton industry; they had full working cotton looms. We happened upon Mr. Thornton there speaking to a number of gentlemen interested in the process." Margaret finished weakly and did not turn to Mr. Thornton, as her mind traveled, unbidden, to the events that followed.
"I am glad to know that Lennoxes had an opportunity to meet you, John. No doubt those young men were impressed that we had made connections with such an important man in cotton." Mr. Hale was certainly proud of his connection to Marlborough Mills.
"I do not know that your London relations have the same taste for manufacturers as you do, Mr. Hale." Margaret blushed furiously thinking of the interaction that had occurred between Mr. Thornton and herself, soon followed by the altercation that occurred between Mr. Thornton and Henry. Slowly allowed her eyes to meet Mr. Thornton's, Margaret was caught somewhat off guard to be met with a slight smile and raised eyebrow. She realized in that instant that she had been forgiven for those wrongdoings.
"I am sorry to hear that, John. There is no accounting for taste, I suppose. Is that not right, Margaret?" Richard Hale said, hoping that his daughter would answer favorably, though admittedly he had learned not to expect anything complimentary where Milton, manufacturing or John Thornton were concerned.
"None at all." She offered a smile to their guest. "Mr. Thornton did draw quite a crowd, Papa. There was a point where we walked for nearly three quarters of an hour and hardly shared a word!" Margaret said laughing.
"In all fairness, I believe that I offered to leave the area." Mr. Thornton said in defense of himself.
"And what good would that have done us? The way that things were going, I was certain that had we ventured to the daguerreotypes, we would have found that Mr. Brady had heard of your popularity and had a piece featuring Marlborough Mills." Margaret said with mischief in her voice.
"I am fairly certain that once we left the cotton manufacturing portion of The Exhibition, that I was no longer in demand." Mr. Thornton said plainly. Mr. Hale was enjoying the scene that played before him. He thought that perhaps a change in scenery might have done them both a world of good.
"Prehaps you are right," Margaret said standing to take their guest's now empty cup. As she quietly prepared his tea as she knew him to take it, Margaret caught Mr. Thornton looking at her in a rather unabashed manner, to her great surprise she did not seem mind the scrutiny that she found herself under in the moment. Handing his tea cup back, she added, "though I do not remember passing the daguerreotypes." Mr. Thornton emitted what could have been a laugh, had it been given an opportunity to mature. Margaret turned to her father. "Might I refresh you as well, Papa?"
He agreed, but only if they would continue their tales from the exhibition. He wished to know what the London party found of interest.
Watching Margaret return to her seat, Mr. Thornton wondered at the interaction that they had just shared. It had been simple enough, yet he had never known its likeness. He knew what she wanted from him, and he was willing to give it. He could not stop himself from loving her, nor would he if he could. Now before him lay the great endeavor of not reading more into their every interaction. Watching her long taper finger trace the mouth of her tea cup, he was almost certain that he was unequal to the task.
"Edith went on for a good while about the Elephant. There was a live elephant there, it was donated by an Indian prince, I must say that it was quite impressive. It was used as a conveyance with a," she stopped for a moment to collect her thoughts. "-carriage of sorts, on its back." Margaret thought for a moment more. Edith's favorite was easy, as she continually went back and forth on whether it would be lovely or disgraceful to ride upon an elephant, the memory caused Margaret's mouth to turn upward.
"Captain Lennox was very interested in Mr. Colt's firearms from the Americas." Margaret said. She turned back to Mr. Thornton. "He also enjoyed the cotton manufacturing. We toured that area once more yesterday."
"I am glad to hear it." Mr. Thornton said.
"What did your Aunt and Henry Lennox enjoy?" Her father asked.
"Aunt Shaw was most impressed with the French statuary. They were beautiful. I could not imagine having the talent to make something so massive while staying true to life." Margaret remarked.
"I think that your drawings are most impressive, my dear." He smiled at his daughter.
"You could hardly compare my little sketches to great art, Father." Margaret blushed.
"I did not know that you drew, Miss Hale." Margaret was in no mood to make a show of her talents, especially so late in the evening.
"I do." She said in a manner that did not allow furtherance of the exchange. There was a lull in the conversation, and Margaret was certain that the evening was on the brink of its end when her father spoke once more.
"And Henry? What did Henry Lennox enjoy?" Mr. Hale asked. He pressed Margaret in order to expand the conversation and keep his mind occupied. Mr. Thornton was stopped mid sip by the question. He set his cup down and gave Margaret his full attention.
"Henry was agreeable to most anything that I wished to see." The ease that she felt earlier had vanished and Margaret suddenly felt nervous under Mr. Thornton's intense scrutiny. "He was particularly interested in spending time before the stained glass. Did you see the stained glass, Mr. Thornton?"
"I did not." She attempted to steer the conversation away from the island of discomfiture that it was on the verge of landing upon.
"There was a beautiful stained glass gallery, and to allow us to properly see it, each piece was surrounded by rich black draperies."
"The room was completely dark?" Mr. Thornton asked with a mask of nonchalance.
"Yes, well no. There were lights behind the glass causing us to be covered in bright colors. I feel that you could have stayed in that particular area for a very long time, as each piece was so detailed. Often one small section told a story, but if you took a step back, you would see that it was only a smaller portion of a much larger picture." Margaret felt that this was perhaps her favorite exhibit, and more than once on the two trips to that area, had she wished that she had been allowed to bring her sketchbook and drawing pencils. She thought that perhaps she could attempt to draw one or two of them from memory, though doubted that the product would do the original justice.
"Mr. Lennox is interested in art, then?" Mr. Thornton asked, pulling Margaret from her mental effusions.
"He is." Margaret replied. "London Gentlemen often pride themselves on being well versed in art and culture." She saw some challenge in Mr. Thornton's statement and answered in kind.
"If I recall correctly, Henry Lennox can draw a fair bit, can he not, Margaret?" Mr. Hale looked up, but did not give Margaret a chance to answer. "When he visited us in Helstone, he made a fine likeness of you, Margaret."
"He was not a true proficient if I recall, though I believe that he enjoyed engaging in it on occasion." There was something in Mr. Thornton's posture that alerted Margaret to the danger that this avenue of conversation had in store. It was apparent to her that, despite forgiving her for their verbal swordplay at the exhibition, he would not be extending the same courtesy to Henry.
Though Margaret was correct in her thinking that Henry Lennox had yet to be forgiven, the change in Mr. Thornton's countenance was not due to anger or scorn or any other such disagreeable feeling associated with being unable to forgive one who has wronged you. Mr. Thornton was afflicted with a case of pure unadulterated jealousy. The feeling was biting and bitter and impossible to repress. The problem with this particular malady was that he could not tell from what exactly the sensation stemmed. He did not know if he was more jealous of the fact that Lennox was well enough acquainted with Margaret to visit her in Helstone or that he had a likeness of her – of which, he did not know whether it bothered him more that he had said likeness in his possession or that he had created it himself, that he had the opportunity for such close examination for such a time as to be able to recreate her image. The jealousy rose within him, making it only the more difficult to swallow that he had no claim on Margaret and therefore, no right to the feelings that pervaded his being.
"…do you agree John?" Mr. Thornton was pulled from his train of thought.
"I am sorry, Mr. Hale. What did you ask?"
"Nothing important, I assure you. It is late and I am sure that I should have released you several hours ago." Richard Hale said by way of an apology. He could see that his friend was tired and began to feel guilty for keeping such a busy man for his own comfort.
"I have enjoyed the company." He stood to leave and bid his farewells. To his great surprise, Margaret stood with him.
"May I see you out, Mr. Thornton?" She asked, her eyes darting between her father and their guest. He readily agreed and made arrangements to visit Mr. Hale the following week.
Mr. Thornton walked in front of Miss Hale, her melodic voice stopping him midway down the stairs. He turned toward her at the sound of his name. Their eyes were level with one another, as Margaret stood two steps higher than he. Her nearness in such a narrow stairwell was electrifying.
"I only wished to apologize for keeping you so late. I had not thought on the lateness of the hour when I asked you to stay." She wished that she had not stopped him on the stairway and had an urge to take a step up, however, thought that it would cause offense and decided to hold her ground.
"I was pleased to stay." There was a pause before he asked hesitantly, "Your mother?"
Margaret's arms wrapped about her own waist in an attempt to quell the overwhelming dread that filled her at Mr. Thornton's question. "Not well, I am afraid."
Unable to stand so near without offering any comfort, he raised his hand and hesitantly placed it just above her left elbow.
"She is so frail, so unhappy and there is nothing that I can do to help her." Margaret's voice cracked in desperation. "I should not be troubling you with such things." He began to rebut, but Margaret continued. "I only meant to thank you, both for your attention to my father and for your kindness to me." She could feel his hand lightly squeeze her arm, his nearness, his touch created such a paradox of emotions. Before she had an opportunity to decipher them the clock struck one, causing the moment that they had just stood within to vanish and Mr. Thornton to retrieve his hand.
Once they had fully descended the stairs, Margaret collected his hat and met Mr. Thornton at the front door. He held his hand out, a gentle challenge in his eyes. Pulling her head back, Margaret decided that she could do worse than meeting him halfway and allowed her hand to meet his. Rather than a quick shake of the hand, as Margaret was expecting, Mr. Thornton simply held hers, staring at it.
"Miss Hale, I cannot imagine what you must be suffering, but as I have said before, I wish to help in any way possible." Margaret shook her head, but Mr. Thornton needed more assurance. "I mean what I say, If there is ever anything, promise that you will not hesitate to call on me."
"I promise." Margaret agreed. With no more than a shake of his head and a stilted breath, Mr. Thornton released her hand and disappeared into the stillness of the night.