Look Back At Me
Part VII
"Mr Thornton for you, Miss".
Dixon moved aside to make room for John Thornton's tall figure. Mr Thornton had left his coat in the hallway, but he was still nervously holding on to his hat.
"Mrs Shaw", he nodded in the aunt's direction to acknowledge her presence, "Miss Hale..", these words came out softer as he looked Margaret straight in her eyes. Mr Thornton was glad to see Miss Hale, but her actual presence reminded him of the conversations he had with his mother yesterday evening and this morning.
When John Thornton walked home the evening before the cold had not bothered him, he felt animated by the sudden changes in his life. He had gone to visit Miss Hale, led on by irresistible impulses, but his mind had never stopped contradicted him until the moment Miss Hale had accepted his proposal. Even afterwards he was still wondering whether his profound desire for it to be true was not playing tricks on him.
When he came to Malborough Mills, Mr Thornton saw that there was still light burning in some of the rooms of his home. He had no doubt his mother was waiting for him and it made him uneasy. He knew his mother had the persuasive ability to turn his euphoria into something dark and twisted, no matter how strong his resistance. It made him want to avoid his mother and he was not a man who could be easily scared or who would refrain from facing a difficult situation.
He walked into the parlour and saw his mother sitting in the settee, her gaze directed at the window. The moment she realised he had entered, her eyes shot towards her son. She looked at him inquiring and there was a hint of desperation in her face. Mrs Thornton waited for her son to explain himself, but he seemed hesitant.
"And? How is Miss Hale?", Mrs Thornton looked at the window again, faking indifference. John Thornton noticed how her hands were folded on her lap, the knuckles white from constant tension.
"She is better", Mr Thornton walked towards a chair, but he did not sit down. Instead, he stood next to his mother, pondering over how to explain his situation. His left hand moved up to be placed upon her shoulder, but it was withdrawn and fell like a lifeless limp to the side of his body.
"I asked Miss Hale to become my wife and she has accepted." It was out. Mr Thornton had almost spit out the words and it could have left a bad taste, but he would not allow it. He would not allow his estimation of Miss Hale to be changed because his mother could not feel kindly towards her. He scolded himself inwardly: his mother had not said much, but he knew her to well not be affected by her.
Mrs Thornton stared blankly at her son. For seconds she looked at him so sharply, he almost wanted take her shoulder and shake her back into rationality. At last, she looked away, turning her gaze back to the window. The grave lines that always marked her face were suddenly intensified.
Mr Thornton felt helpless. His mother had purposely shut him out and the pillar he leaned on for constant support in his life had been demolished before his eyes. What could he do? Mr Thornton closed his eyes and felt his optimism disappear in the ground beneath his feet.
"Goodnight, mother..", Mr Thornton placed a kiss on the unmoved forehead of his mother. She did not respond: she was like a marble statue, her gaze ever fixed on the window. Mr Thornton sighed and left for bed.
He hardly slept that night, seeing Margaret's inviting smile when he dreamt, disrupted by feverish visions of his mother's apprehensive face. When he went down for breakfast, his mother was already up. There was no sign of distress showing in her expression, it seemed as if she was not at all disturbed by her son's engagement. John Thornton knew this was only a façade: a raging storm was about to hit the quiet harbour. He excused himself for not having breakfast with her, saying he had urgent business at the mill.
"I will visit Miss Hale afterwards", Mr Thornton spoke in a tone that expressed it was not open for discussion.
Mrs Thornton sipped at her tea. "John?", she did not look up from her newspaper, "Would you ask Miss Hale to come and see me, I need to speak with her."
John Thornton was taken aback by his mother's comment. Calculating woman! She knew he could not be persuaded to break of his engagement, so instead she would direct her indignation at Miss Hale. The storm would be calm for moment longer, but it would soon rage against Margaret. No matter how he wanted to protect her from his mother's bulwark, Mrs Thornton would not rest until she had tested Miss Hale's character in every possible way. Margaret was strong. She had held her ground before, she would not be scared to do so again. But the fear that Miss Hale might not be able to win from his mother's perseverance had planted its seeds in his mind and they were making him miserable anew.
"Mr Thornton?", Mrs Shaw's voice brought him back to the Hale's drawing room. Mr Thornton had seated himself opposite of Mrs Shaw, further away from Margaret than he wished. But he did not wish to be seen by the aunt as too eager around her beautiful niece. Miss Hale sat patiently by the fire, the black colour of her dress contrasting with her pale skin. There was a lasting look of sorrow in her eyes and fatigue was obviously still plaguing her, but there was also a fresh, soft blush on her cheeks. Mr Thornton returned his attention to Mrs Shaw with difficulty.
"Mr Thornton, my niece has just informed me that you two are to be married", Mrs Shaw spoke in a domineering way.
Mr Thornton would not be overruled, "Yes, that is true." He noticed Mrs Shaw sniff and then correct herself as if it had not happened.
"I am not sufficiently acquainted with you, Mr Thornton, to properly understand your motives, but my niece has assured me you have good intentions.", Mrs Shaw continued to sound somewhat uncertain.
It was not the remark Mr Thornton had expected from Mrs Shaw, "I am glad to hear it", and for a moment he looked appreciatively at Miss Hale.
"Do you believe you have the means to give my niece a comfortable and good life?", Mrs Shaw started her inquiry.
"Yes, I believe I have", Mr Thornton looked at Mrs Shaw without fear, "I certainly intend to make Miss Hale happy." He looked at Margaret to make sure she realised he had not forgotten she was present. Something Mrs Shaw did not bother herself with.
"Where will you live once you are married?", Mrs Shaw did not pay much attention to his previous answer.
"At Marlborough Mills. Miss Hale will live with me in our house." Mr Thornton remained certain of himself. He moved further back into his chair, giving his figure a taller appearance.
"You intend to live at the factory? Amidst your workers? Surely that is no place for a lady..", Mrs Shaw spoke more to herself than to Mr Thornton, but he heard her, however.
"I am not ashamed of my home or of how I earn my living.", his jaw tightened, "My mother has lived there for many years and she is a woman I respect greatly. She has never told me of her discontent with the place." Mrs Shaw may not have intended to insult Mr Thornton, but it had nevertheless changed his mood. He had intended to bide his time, but Mrs Shaw's comment had injured his pride and he would defend himself.
"I would gladly live at Marlborough Mills", Margaret's voice was like the sun that melted Mr Thornton's icy temperament. He looked at her and saw she gave him an encouraging smile with a hint of disobedience. She would not listen to her aunt. She might be strong enough to face his mother after all.
"Mr Thornton, you do understand that since my niece is in mourning, a wedding cannot take place until she is at least in half-mourning. Margaret can stay with me in London for the next half year, until further arrangements can be made." Aunt Shaw looked quite pleased with herself.
"Surely not!", Margaret exclaimed. She had given voice to the words that were about to escape Mr Thornton, and his expression became ominous. Miss Hale's hands had turned into fists in her lap.
Mrs Shaw was forced to acknowledge her niece. She moved around somewhat in her chair and faced Miss Hale.
"My dear..", Aunt Shaw spoke in a patronising tone, "We may lessen it, at the least, to three months considering the circumstances, but surely you understand it must be that way."
