I Dare Not Hope Ch: 4
The incessant rain did not stop pounding on the Hale's roof the whole night. Margaret woke again, after falling asleep with the memory of a shadowy figure by her window. Surely she had dreamt that. Margaret could hardly try to forget her wakeful dreams or ignore the dancing shadows playing on her bedroom wall, casting images of faces and specters that fuelled her fearful imaginings. Being awake for the second time that night, she fought the urge to light a candle to ease her emotions. She would not waste lighting a candle for her silly musings in the middle of the night. But still, as Margaret lay pondering her dream, she doubted she could forget it so easily or feel at ease with the warmth that a light would give her.
She feared, now more than ever, going to see Mr. Thornton. How would the man himself compare to the figure she saw in her dreams? She thought obsessively over the image of her father being shielded by Mr. Thornton's form. In the dream Margaret felt at ease by his presence. The real fear, she remembered was when her godfather had laid his icy hand on her trembling shoulder. She was glad to be awake from her nightmare. Now if she could only get back to sleep. She needed all the rest she could get, for tomorrow was a big day for Margaret Hale.
Margaret's eyes were still closed, but she could see the contrast of night and day behind her lids. No more could she hear rain, but the soft chirping of some bird outside her window. She let herself lazily open her eyes to the new day before her. All at once she realized that today was when she would meet Mr. Thornton. She hoped Fanny hadn't led on about her brother's character. Margaret huffed to herself. Even if Mr. Thornton was a harsh man, she would face him with equal determination, her family would expect nothing less from her, nor would she doubt her own character and strength.
Margaret rose from the comfort of her bed, stretching sore muscles that seemed to ache from lack of calm. The tense night would weigh heavy on her mind today. Straining her neck over her shoulder, Margaret peered out of her window that had evidence of last night's storm, dripping with the left over dew. Margaret remembered the terrifying vision of a form at her window. She knew she must have been dreaming, for her room was two stories up. She could clearly see the top of Marlborough Mills from her bedroom.
The sight of the industrial town with its dark buildings and jagged roof tops made Margaret miss home. For the first time since her mother's death and moving from Heltone, Margaret could see how such a place could be viewed as an oasis compared to the bustling town of Milton. She knew how her father must have been missing his old parish, especially with the loss of his wife added to the sorrow. But this is where they were now, and Margaret was steadfastly determined to make it home as well.
It must have been fairly early, since Dixon had not come to wake her mistress. Margaret pulled on her robe to go down stairs. Upon opening her door, Margaret could hear their maid in the kitchen. Dixon is up early too, she thought, the rain must have kept everyone awake. Climbing down the rickety stairs, which Margaret had grown accustomed too, she could now tell which floor boards would protest under her feet when she walked across it, she found Dixon in the kitchen. The maid's back was to Margaret as she entered and lightly knocked on the door. The faint tapping from Margaret's gentle touch, startled Dixon with a great yelp.
"There you finally are! You gave me a fright young mistress." Dixon said, still hurriedly trying to complete her task.
"What are you doing Dixon? You are up early to be baking." Margaret replied curiously.
Dixon became flustered all over again, "Oh, that man! To be here so early, with not so much as a warning to his visit. Your father has me to his tasks early for his friend." Dixon spat out the word friend as if she had a taste in her mouth she wanted to be rid of.
"Father has company? Who?" Margaret didn't know why she felt a sudden knot in her stomach. Ever since last night she had felt uneasy. To tell the truth, Margaret couldn't say she felt at ease at all while in Milton.
"That Mr. Thornton! Said he had an appointment he had to keep. Though I'm not sure it was with Mr. Hale, he seemed just as surprised as I was to have a visitor so soon this morn, but I led him up. He's with your father now as we speak." Dixon informed Margaret of their visitor, unaware at the horror Margaret felt at the unexpected presence of the mill owner.
"Dixon, what time is it?!" Margaret asked in a state of shock.
"Why, its past noon. Your father said to let you sleep through the morn again."
"Dixon, I had an appointment with Mr. Thornton early this morning! You should have woken me. I missed it, that is why he is here now. Oh no!" Margaret put her hand to her head to keep from crying out. She slept through the appointment, how she will ever meet him now! With his perception of herself already tainted by her tardiness. He will think me no more than a spoiled lady, not fit to work in one of his mills.
Dixon looked up at Margaret's cry of distress. Her mouth hung open, for once not knowing what to say. "You best get dressed mistress. They'll be waiting on you."
With that, Margaret leaped up the stairs, clutching onto her nightgown so as not to trip up in her hastiness. Her heart beat faster with the adrenaline of the situation. If her father knew, he would be disappointed, she knew that. Questions danced through her mind. Fighting for dominance as she tried to sort how it all could go so wrong.
Coming to the top of the stairs, Margaret could see the door to her father's study open slowly. She tried to make it passed the door undetected, but her father's voice carried out into the stairwell as the light from the room showed her to the occupants inside. Her father had opened the door wide while his face was still turned to whoever held his attention. As the door stood fully open Margaret stood in the hallway, in the full light, knowing she was seen. The occupant that was on the other side of the threshold of the entrance to her father's study, stared harshly at Margaret. If hate had a face, it would be this man. All in a moments glance Margaret could feel the weight of the glare that was directed towards her. Even as her father neglected to notice that his friend's attentions were distracted, Margaret wished her father would turn to see her, to save her from out of the hold this man's cold eyes had on her.
The man stood, and Mr. Hale seeing his friend was distracted turned to see where Mr. Thornton's gaze was held. Upon seeing the state of his daughter's dress, he shut the door quickly behind him stepping into the hall to shield his daughter. Just as the door closed, bringing darkness back over Margaret, she could just make out the blue ice from under the stern brow of Mr. Thornton.
"Margaret! What do you mean coming out here in your night clothes?!" Mr. Hale asked harshly.
"I woke late. I didn't know Mr. Thornton was here. I'm sorry, I'll go dress." Margaret turned to go to her room. The blush on her cheeks could be mistaken for her rushed flight up the stairs. But Margaret knew the cause was from a pair of stern blue eyes. Heat radiated up to her cheeks making her feel all the more flustered. She passed it off as embarrassment at her lack of punctuality and not being seen in proper attire.
"And another thing, why didn't you tell me you were meeting with Mr. Thornton here? If you feel ashamed of having to seek work Margaret, you know that you will not receive judgment from me." Mr. Hale told is daughter with a softer tone.
"Mr. Thornton said he was to come here?" Margaret asked, coming down from a step.
"Well, yes. He didn't specify when you two were to meet, but I told him I would wake you. But he quickly assured me to not trouble you or myself. He's been here ever since." Mr. Hale smiled.
Margaret was dumfounded. Why would Mr. Thornton say he was to meet her at her home when she was to meet him at his? She assumed he didn't want to embarrass her father with her lack of manners, she was grateful for the thought on her father's feelings. But she still had to face him, and they would both know she was in the wrong. With no more time to waste she went into her room to dress herself properly to meet Mr. Thornton formally.
As Margaret entered the room and shut the door behind her, the two men who had been waiting for her, stood to greet her. Now, in a white dress with her hair pulled into a perfect bun, Margaret stood proudly in front of her father and his friend. She wouldn't look Mr. Thornton in the eye yet, still reeling from the memory of the first glance with their powerful hold.
"Ah, Margaret, this is Mr. Thornton." Her father formally greeted them. "And this is my daughter, Margaret."
Mr. Thornton took one massive stride forward to eliminate the space between the two of them. He held his hand out in front of her. She could feel his gaze on the top her head, as he was at least one foot taller than her, and towered over her like a shadow.
Margaret gazed at the offered hand, and remembered her meeting with Mr. Higgins, how he had held his hand out in similar fashion but seemed to take it away with a bit of annoyance after she had not taken it. Margaret had the feeling she had caused him offence, so as to not repeat the same injury she reached her hand forward shakily to meet with his. She felt no awkwardness; he was here on business, for her sake at least. Mr. Thornton was in more of a state of shock at the contrast of the wild, flustered woman in the hall, to this dignified young lady before him. He felt sure he would play his part of the overbearing master when met with his teacher's daughter, but soon found himself willing to do the bidding of the young lady if she had commanded it.
She held her hand hovering by his, afraid to take the grip fully. He obliged her, thinking her haughty and took the offered hand into his, squeezing it slightly.
To Margaret's amazement, he had felt warm to the touch. That a man with such a cold demeanor could radiate heat, made the knot in her stomach lessen its hold. Finally, she looked up meeting his gaze and found the same stern eyes as before, but a twitch of his lips made his gaze falter on her and then turned to her father. Margaret was thankful for the moment to catch her breath and her senses.
Her father bade them to sit, while Margaret poured herself a cup of tea. Her father and Mr. Thornton had resumed a previous conversation started before her arrival. Returning to the group, Margaret sat across from Mr. Thornton. She could gaze at him to her leisure since his attentions were with her father. Besides the eyes that had held her in place the moment she saw them, Mr. Thornton seemed a normal man. Tall and dark, he held himself with pride which was evident in the way he held his focus and gave his opinion knowingly. The brow that covered the blue eyes tensed in thought at something said. While the mouth, with its thin lips, held firm.
He seemed in habit of authority but in the presence of her father he seemed to give over that rule as any young pupil would.
"I am glad you find the house to your liking." Mr. Thornton had said with a baritone voice that rattled Margaret's being. Mr. Thornton had been sure of his instinct that this house would do very well for Mr. Hale and his daughter. But upon seeing Margaret in the flesh, felt that maybe the homely Crampton would not do for a lady such as Margaret. Her dignified way of moving, even when pouring herself a cup of tea, had transfixed his mind completely. A strand of her hair had fallen repeatedly from behind her ear. He watched, transfixed as she showed no signs of frustration at having to keep pulling the strand behind her ear with her milky white hand.
"Margaret has done all of the arranging and redecorating." Mr. Hale broke through his daughter's and his pupil's inner thoughts, bringing them back to room.
"Then, I hope Miss Hale, that you find the house to your satisfaction." Mr. Thornton peered over to Margaret, hoping that he had done well in his choice for them. Although, she was completely unaware of the fact of his inner turmoil.
"It is very well, thank you Mr. Thornton. My father and I are more than pleased here." Margaret couldn't look directly at Mr. Thornton with her admiration, instead turning her gaze to her father.
Mr. Thornton was sure that he would not like her this morning, after dismissing their meeting, but now could not repress his admiration of her and her quiet way of expression.
He was angry, to be sure, when she had not shown herself at their appointed time at the mill. He questioned Fannie's insight to this Miss Hale, and questioned his sister's good opinion of the woman. After waiting for half an hour he decided to make his way to Crampton, if not as an excuse to see his new friend but to bring about Mr. Hale's daughter's lack of propriety. He had made a good friend of Mr. Hale and didn't wish to see him sink lower because of a frivolous daughter. Mr. Thornton took it upon himself to show the error of her ways. Lady be damned, she would know the ways of Milton conventions!
And seeing her in nothing but her robe and night shift, hair around her face, cheeks red, huffing from exertion, she looked like a wild thing, springing from a trap. He had held his firm opinion of her once she had shown herself in that fashion. He was never one to be wrong once his mind was set on something. Yet, here she was, making him doubt everything he was sure to find in her as faults. The way in which she spoke to her father, with such decorum and utter love for the older man, made Mr. Thornton realize that Fanny had spoken truly of the woman who had befriended his young sister.
"I am glad Milton has passed the taste of the South." Mr. Thornton said proudly.
"Yes, the North is certainly very different from our Southern ways, but we have managed. Haven't we Margaret?"
Margaret merely nodded.
"Mr. Bell informed me well I think, of your Southern lifestyle." Mr. Thornton confessed.
Margaret went rigid. Remembering her dream like it was real. She could feel the cool touch on her shoulder as if he was standing behind her. She shook away her sudden tremble and stood refill her father's tea.
"I do so long to see my old college fellow." Mr. Hale exclaimed. "It has been years, Margaret was but a girl the last time she saw her godfather."
"They are not close then?" Mr. Thornton asked Mr. Hale.
"No, by all means. Not since…" Margaret could tell her father was distressed thinking on Fred, she was quick to intervene when Mr. Thornton caught his distress and plowed on.
"It's just that he spoke so knowingly of Margaret, of the lady she is now, that I thought they had been close."Mr. Thornton's information of Mr. Bell caused Margaret such distress that she longed to change the topic to anything other than her godfather.
"I am distressed Mr. Thornton at the change of the wallpaper." Margaret turned quickly on them, with no signs of her reason for the turn of the conversation.
Mr. Thornton gazed at her quizzically. The brows that she noticed before, had creased with agitation.
"I am sorry Miss Hale if the wallpaper isn't to your liking."
"It is not the state of the wallpaper rather how they came to be that disturbs me." Margaret said not breaking her cold demeanor.
Where was the delicate lady? Mr. Thornton wondered.
"I do not understand Miss Hale." Mr. Thornton stood to tower over her, even from across the room, with her father in between them, he seemed to have a hold over her, not just with his gaze, but his broad shoulders and rigid back standing straight before her. Margaret faltered just the slightest but pushed on with agitation of thoughts of Mr. Bell.
"I mean, that we gave no indication that we would like them to be changed and yet they are different."
"Surely, your father informed me of his wishes before you moved into Crampton." Mr. Thornton urged. Why was she pushing this so hard, meddling in affairs that do not concern her? Affairs that would be best if let alone. Mr. Thornton was sure that the lady he thought dignified would cause him more trouble than he wanted to deal with. This Miss Hale would tempt him in more ways than one.
"He told no one but myself." Margaret didn't know what compelled her to argue the topic of the wallpaper, only that she needed someone to help her understand the mystery other than her father. But the way Mr. Thornton looked as if he knew exactly what she was speaking of, distressed her. She wished she hadn't brought the subject back up, especially to Mr. Thornton. So what did it matter that her father's wishes were mysteriously granted? He was happy, that should have been all the mattered!
"How can that be possible Miss Hale? How could I have known otherwise?"The way in Mr. Thornton spoke to her as if she was a child and he the adult, set her blood to boil. It reminded her of how Fred spoke to her.
"Indeed, I had wondered the same thing."Margaret said in the same fashion.
Just as both seemed to wish to end their interrogation of one another, Mr. Hale broke from his sorrow to try and make peace.
"What does it matter, Margaret? The wallpaper is what we wanted, however it came to be. Maybe it was my forgetful mind, maybe I had written to Mr. Thornton or even Mr. Bell." Her father implored her to drop the subject, and speak on it no more. Her eyes stung with tears at the sight of her father in distress. He seemed to be doing better, but she knew there would be moments harder than others.
Margaret wished Mr. Thornton far away from here.
After a silence, Mr. Thornton spoke again, trying to make his voice softer to the room and the changed feelings.
"Miss Hale, I came to speak with you on a business matter. Fanny has told me all about your situation and your hopes in a place at Marlborough Mills." He paused, seemingly trying to make sure of something. "But I cannot hire you Miss Hale. You are a lady, despite circumstance and I cannot justify having a lady work in a mill alongside the other hands."
"Mr. Thornton," Margaret said with still a haughty pride in her voice, "I am thankful you still find me socially acceptable, despite my…circumstances. But it is beyond that now. I need employment to assure mine and my father's comfort. I would urge you to reconsider."
"Do you even know what it takes to run a mill, Miss Hale?"The edge to his voice had returned and Margaret was aware that she wasn't treading lightly.
"Well, no. I admit I am ignorant of the ways of business. But surely one could learn."
"No, Miss Hale. I need experienced workers in my mill. I can't afford to have other hands slow down their work to help you. Which I am sure you will need." He said firmly.
"I see. Then we have no more to discuss, Mr. Thornton?"
"No, Miss Hale, unless you wish to berate me on other matters of decoration, then I will take my leave." Mr. Thornton stood up quickly, turning to shake hands with Mr. Hale. A small but sincere smile was given in friendship, but as he turned to Margaret the thin, firm lips returned.
"Miss Hale, I do hope after this we shall meet as friends." And not go poking into matters that she would do well to stay out of, he thought.
"That depends on the circumstances of friendship Mr. Thornton." With a curt nod and bow, Margaret saw Mr. Thornton to the door, showing Mr. Thornton that even as a lady she could hold her own. Despite being turned down from yet another job, Margaret told herself to hold her head high and trudge on through the unknown, even with the dismissal of Mr. Thornton, who she knew she could never hold in high esteem.
That same night, as Mr. Thornton returned to his home from the mill, he found his mother and sister sitting quietly in a darkened room, working on their embroidery. The familiar clack of the shoes on the hard wood told Mrs. Thornton that her son was finally home. Mrs. Thornton wore her usual black silk, not a thread out of place. Looking from her needlework, she glanced at the door to see her son hesitantly walk towards them. All he wanted to do was collapse onto his soft bed and forget all about the day he had had. Especially his meeting with the proud Miss Hale. He knew after their introduction that she already knew too much. At least too much for her to start questioning and keeping a keener eye on what went on in Milton. She had a sharper eye than her father, he would grant her that. That she was also the most beautiful creature he ever saw made no difference to him. At least that was what he tried to convince himself all day since seeing her.
"How is the mill?" His mother asked, returning her attentions to her task.
"Fine, as usual mother, no need to worry." He came up behind her and put a hand to her shoulder and kissed her cheek.
"Something is bothering you." Mrs. Thornton wasn't asking, she knew her son was somehow in distress.
"It is nothing you need to bother yourself with." Changing the subject, he spoke to Fanny. "I met your friend today, Fanny." He said lightly.
"Oh, how is Miss Hale? I do hope you have treated her fairly John, as I rightly told her you would." Fanny said with a smile that brightened the dim room.
"I did not hire her if that is what you mean." Her brother said with indifference as he took off his jacket and loosened his cravat.
"Why ever not John? She is a good, trustworthy lady!" Fanny said standing up, leaving her embroidery on the chair.
"That is exactly why Fanny, because she is a lady!" John retorted back at his sister.
"No, there is some other reason! We can trust her John, I know we can!" Fanny said desperately.
"No! We involve no one, especially strangers to Milton!"
Fanny left in a huff, but before ascending the stairs she turned to her brother and said with a snarl, "You'll be sorry." And she went to her room.
After Fanny's absence, Mrs. Thornton stood by her son next to the window. The storm had returned and with it another sleepless night for John Thornton. It was safe to say he never had a goods nights rest in his life, but lately he had put it off completely. So much was hanging in the balance, so much to risk.
"What is going on?" Mrs. Thornton asked, in her deep voice that was the polar opposite of her daughter's. "Why trouble yourself over a clergyman's daughter?"
"You know that is not it, mother." John turned from her, unwillingly to look his mother in the eye while lying to her. He knew she would see through him anyways.
"Do not get caught up by a penniless girl." His mother warned.
"I won't! I am not easily caught, but I will not have Miss Hale spoken of in that way. You know how it offends me. Besides, I know Miss Hale would have no wish to try and catch me. I made sure of that tonight." Mr. Thornton would not tell his mother that he was afraid of Miss Hale, and what she might know or learn to know. For now he would keep her safe, and hope she didn't try anything foolish.
Mr. Thornton bid his mother goodnight. After both her children were in their rooms, Mrs. Thornton stayed in the dark room, pondering over Miss Hale. Despite her son's wishes, she would hate Miss Hale.
A/N: A special thank you to eknight07 who gave me some helpful tips and advice with the character of Margaret Hale. I know she is not exactly true to her character as in the book, but this has been done on purpose to suit my story. Nonetheless, I am trying to make her a strong and likeable character to the original. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint with the fateful meeting between Margaret and Thornton. Please review! (: