Chapter Seven – From Milton to London

Southbound Train to London

They got to the train station with twelve minutes to spare. The station terminal was teeming with people, arriving at and departing from Milton, people meeting passengers alighting from the trains; or saying their goodbyes to others travelling northbound to Glasgow, eastbound to Liverpool, westbound to York, or southbound to Birmingham and London; vendors selling newspapers, porters wheeling boxes, crates and luggage and businessmen with briefcases and broadsheets folded underneath their arms.

Hannah and Margaret stood, side by side, on the platform whilst Thornton stood several feet away to oversee the station porters and the carriage drivers load Margaret's trunk boxes into the luggage compartment. Margaret cast a quick glance at him, and saw that his mood remained sour. She could not make any sense of his annoyance, as they did not miss the train after all. Perhaps it had nothing to do with her, she reasoned, but in her mind she was doubtful. Everything that upset this man always seemed to have something to do with her. It was as if anytime she made some headway in mending her relationship with him, some misunderstanding seemed to creep up again to destabilise an already fragile intercourse. A solitary tear dropped onto her cheeks and she wiped it off with her gloved hand.

Nevertheless, she could not by admire the masterful way in which he seemed to command the porters, with a nod, a tilt of his chin, or a raised eyebrow, but rarely with any words. This man was clearly a master, used to being in charge of two hundred workers, and everyone seemed to want to obey him and be in his favour. Standing on the platform, she could observe Thornton, unobtrusively, in broad daylight, and not sidelong in the low lantern lights of her father's study. Thankfully, those piercing blue eyes had made her uneasy to face him of late, without blushing or blurting out something nonsensical, were narrowed disapprovingly on one porter that had bumped one trunk box against the edge of compartment threshold. "Sorry sir," all the porters said in unison.

This powerful face before her was breathtakingly handsome, but then she had always known that. She began to take his features to memory, his strong aquiline nose, angular jawline, square chin, jet-black hair, impeccably trimmed sideburns, chiseled cheekbones, and the sharp lines of his eyebrows; and she found herself smiling, and the same time feeling the heat creeping up on her face at the memory of that handsome face next to hers when he helped her up at the post office, twenty minutes ago.

"He is so handsome, is he not? ….Admired and respected by everyone," Hannah whispered into her ear, gesturing towards Thornton. Margaret had forgotten that Mrs. Thornton was present, and was even more mortified to realise that Hannah had been watching her. She should have been mourning a beloved father, and not ogling a handsome former suitor. She squeezed her eyes shut and lifted her hands to tug the edges of her bonnet down and hide her red-hot face.

Hannah continued, "He had just returned from Le Havre when your father died, and had been at your place almost every day for hours on end, wanting to see you, but Dixon said you were not receiving anyone. He has had to work late into the night just to catch up on the orders."

Margaret turned and faced Hannah and replied, "I did not know that he'd come that often. I only saw him once, the day before yesterday. He must be exhausted."

"If he would only be kind to himself, as he is to those he loves, whether they deserve it or not….." Hannah said.

Margaret knew Mrs. Thornton was referring to the way she had behaved when Hannah came to query her about her perceived indiscretions. At the time, she was not certain that Frederick was safe, so she could not confess to Mrs. Thornton; so she did what she knew best whenever she was cornered- she stalked off in annoyance.

Out of the corner of her eye, Margaret saw the familiar figure of Police Inspector Mason approaching them. She first met him when he came to Crampton to question her about her whereabouts on the night that Frederick and Leonards had had the altercation at Outwood Station, and she had lied to him. She panicked, and instinctively moved closer to Mrs. Thornton, seeking protection, quite irrational, as though Hannah could give her immunity from the long arm of the law.

Margaret said quietly and hurriedly, "Mrs. Thornton, thank you for escorting me back to London," and reached and touched Hannah's arm. She felt Mrs. Thornton recoil at her touch, so moved her hand away, but she still stood her ground, very close to Hannah and continued. "I also wish to apologise for my manner the last time I saw you, to say you meant kindly."

Hannah had been taken completely by surprise that the girl could get off her high horse to apologise. She reached and took Margaret's hand in hers, and held on to it. "Miss Hale, I'm glad you vindicate me. I'd always desired to be a friend to you. I'm glad you do me justice."

"Good morning, Mrs. Thornton,….and Miss Hale of Crampton," Mason said, as he reached them. "It would seem we would all be travelling on the same train. I'm going to London myself….and accept my condolences for your loss, Miss Hale of Crampton," he added, with emphasis on the way the grocer's assistant had described her to the police.

Margaret did not respond, but linked her arm into Hannah's, like old friends, and stared hard at her feet. Hannah sensed that there was something cryptic in Mason's communication; plus something about the way Margaret clung to her was reminiscent of what Fanny would do whenever she was terrified of something – horses, ghosts, thunderstorms. Hannah protective instinct came to the fore.

"Miss Hale is in mourning. We will not wish to keep you long, Inspector," Hannah said, prompting Mason to leave them. "Good day," he said, bowed, and moved along the platform, towards Thornton.

They both watched Mason depart, and Margaret pulled her arm out of Hannah's and let out the breath she had been holding on to. "Bless him." Hannah said. "He used to be John's clerk before he joined the Force. John recommended him for the position, but I did not realise that you were acquainted with the Inspector?"

"He…..he…..he came to..…..," Margaret said, visibly flustered.

"You are clearly troubled about something that Mason may be hinting at. I did make a vow to myself not to poke my nose in your matters, but definitely against my better judgement, if I may, I would advise that you confide in someone you can trust, your family perhaps, on whatever it is that distresses you," Hannah said.

"Unfortunately, I cannot disclose this particular matter to my aunt or my cousin. Something that Dixon said to me has made me come to realise, perhaps belatedly, that the very person that I should not have concealed my troubles from now hates me," Margaret said.

"My son does not hate you, Miss Hale," Hannah laughed.

"I was referring to you, Mrs. Thornton. My mother implored you to counsel me as you would your own daughter. You did your part, but I did not reciprocate, and I am truly sorry. I know you meant well when you came to see me, to offer your assistance," Margaret said.

"I must admit that I was surprised that you consented to let us escort you to London," Mrs. Thornton said. "In the past whenever we'd offered help, you'd declined it. You would not even accept the carriage we sent for your mother's funeral."

"We did not want to trouble you then, and no discourtesy was meant by it. You are our only friends in Milton," Margaret said. "It was just that I had had so many disagreements with Mr. Thornton at the time and I was certain that you both despised me."

"No, I do not despise you," Hannah replied. "I love my son, but you did not value his good nature and kind heart. You broke his heart, yet he loved you still, and loved your family. When your father died, he wanted to help…to be the one to comfort you. He would not have it any other way." Hannah cast a sidelong glance at her to gauge her reaction to this. Margaret coloured and looked away and started to pick on some imaginary fluff on her coat. Hannah chuckled inwardly and had a satisfied countenance on her face.

"Mr. Thornton is very kind. My father esteemed him greatly, but I am debased in his eyes," Margaret said.

"Perhaps then you could tell me what happened back there in the post office to make him so cross?" Hannah queried. Margaret gasped.

Thornton reached them as soon as the luggage was loaded. "Mother, Margaret, our train departs shortly," he gestured, and the station porter opened the door to the compartment. Margaret moved sharply away from him and got onboard, and Mrs. Thornton followed. Thornton pulled at his mother's elbow as she got to the door, and leaned into her and whispered tersely, "What have you done? What did you say to her?"

"I should be asking you the same question. What happened back there at the Post Office?" Hannah asked. "Damn," he muttered the oath in response.

The carriage was almost full, and they found seats near the rear, and close to the train conductor's cabin. Margaret and Hannah sat next to each other, and Thornton sat facing them. Margaret winced as she sat down on the tough leather seats. The ever-attentive Thornton noticed, and he leaned over and whispered something to his mother. Mrs. Thornton nodded, and then reached into her bag and brought out a thick woolen shawl, folded it and formed into a cushion.

"Here, Miss Hale," she said gently, "You may find this pillow should ease your discomfort on the train. These seats are hard. John told me of your accident at the Post Office."

Margaret's eyes brimmed with tears and she received the makeshift cushion from Mrs. Thornton and sat upon it. It did ease her pain. "Thank you, ma'am, for your kindness.…..and please call me Margaret," she said; "and thank you sir," she added quietly to Thornton. He gave a curt nod and looked away.

….

They rode on in silence. Thornton was reading a newspaper, Mrs. Thornton was knitting a scarf, and Margaret was looking out of the window at the changing scenery. Occasionally, mother and son talked about the mill, and Margaret listened with rapt attention, in admiration that Mrs. Thornton understood the business almost as much as her son, and that he seemed to value her opinion on business matters. Margaret felt her chest swell with pride that a woman such as Hannah could hold her own in a man's world.

After some time, both Margaret and Hannah dozed off.

The train stopped at Birmingham, where the regional lines branched off to Oxford and Cardiff, and several passengers alighted from, or joined the carriage. The shrill sound of the train whistle jarred Margaret awake, and she caught Thornton staring at her. He coloured instantly and raised his newspaper up to shield his face. Hannah was still sleeping.

"Mr. Thornton," she started, and he lowered his paper, "I apologise for what happened at the post office," she continued. "I did not mean to imply that you could not have posted the letter for me. It is just that I felt you had gone to so much trouble to get me to London already, and I did not want to bother you with every small errand. It had been snowing heavily all morning, and I could not get to the post office earlier. I am sorry that it was such a mad rush to get to the station."

"We did not miss the train," he replied. "And about your letter, whomever you choose to write to is of no concern to me. I would not want to intrude on your privacy in any case," he stated in a clipped tone.

Margaret frowned. Why would Mr. Thornton take umbrage to a letter addressed to a company in Spain? She had thought he was upset that she almost made them miss the train. Insufferable man!

He was not sure how to bring up the pressing matter that bothered him so he exhaled deeply, and cleared his throat, and decided to just say it. "I heard that Leonards came from Helstone. Were you acquainted with him before you came to Milton?" he asked with a feigned air of indifference.

"No, I was not, but Dixon was. She knew his father," Margaret replied.

He nodded. "…..and your companion?"

"I don't think so. I'm not sure," she replied.

He studied her quietly to see if she would continue to hide beneath that calm exterior, but instead she shifted uncomfortably, leaned back as if she could disappear into the seat.

"Why then did Leonards attack him?" he asked and paused for a moment and continued, "…or, let me see,…..could it be you that he was after?"

When he saw that no response was forthcoming, he folded his paper in a deliberate manner and laid it on the seat beside him and continued, "Miss Hale, Margaret, it seems to me too much of a coincidence that someone from Helstone would pick you at random to accost, and in such a public place."

Margaret gave a long sigh, sat up straight and clasped her hands in her lap. She lifted her chin and looked him squarely in the face and said, "Mr. Thornton, I have gone too far for concealment. It may not make much of difference now because you have seen me at my worst, and you must surely be relieved that you were not attached to me, but I cannot go to London and let you continue to think ill of me."

From her seat, she could see through the glass window into the train conductor's cabin, and saw Inspector Mason speaking with the conductor. Thornton sat facing her, and did not see what she saw. She looked down at her hands and continued, "…But there is something I have to tell you...about him….about that night….I….you see….."she faltered as she went on and her courage began to ebb away.

"Let us not beat about the bush. I know everything…..ev-e-ry-thing.." he emphasized with his hands in a chopping motion in rhythm to every syllable. He then leaned across to her and added, "…..about Leonards, and even about Frederick Dickenson from Cadiz," he said and leaned back into his seat, and folded his arms across his chest to watch her reaction.

Her head shot up in alarm. He raised a quizzical eyebrow and his lips had twisted into a smirk.

"Did Papa tell you?" she cried and quickly lowered her voice in case they were overheard, but saw they were now alone in the compartment. "Did Papa tell you?" she leaned forward and whispered in order not to rouse Mrs. Thornton, "Or was it Mr. Bell?"

He frowned. He was surprised that Bell and Hale knew Dickenson, and then reasoned that they probably did know him through Mrs. Shaw in London, but may not have known he may have been seducing Margaret in secret. "No, I met a gentleman named Paxman, James Paxman ….," he replied.

"The draper….from Helstone?….." Margaret said with a furrowed brow.

"Yes, that one. I went there, to Helstone," he said, "On my way back from Le Havre, and I met him at the station purely by chance, and he told me everything….," he signified, waving his hand in a half-circle.

"Good Lord," her jaw dropped and she brought up both her hands to cover her mouth.

Thornton continued, "….he mentioned Leonards, and then he spoke about your family, telling me all manner of things; me, a complete stranger to him, and without knowing the level of my acquaintance with you. He talked of the dissent, and the scandal…..no, his actual words were treachery and mutiny…..a traitor of the blackest dye, and a disgrace to his profession…." Thornton added with a small snort.

"Ah….so….he told you that," she said quietly. Her shoulders drooped and she gave a deep sigh. "Well, Mr. Thornton, you now know our troubles. We were able to escape all the gossip when we came to Milton. No one knew us there," Margaret said.

"My family know what it feels like to be the object of gossip too, so I am familiar with the sentiments," Thornton replied.

"Your father….." Margaret said quietly.

He nodded towards his sleeping mother, "The lot fell to Mother and I to repair the taint to the Thornton name and reputation. We lived with the shame and the gossip for so many years. You soon become acquainted with the look of pity and of fear from all and sundry; you hear the loud whispers, and you see the pointing in the street; the silence when you enter a crowded room and the noise when you leave it, with the certainty that the strangers that you had just met will promptly be acquainted with your story, almost as soon as your back was turned. We kept to ourselves. It was a lot to bear. Overwhelming at times."

Margaret turned to regard Mrs. Thornton for a few moments. Hannah's usual stern face had softened and looked handsome in repose. It was evident from whom Thornton not only got his looks, but his strong and loyal character. Hannah Thornton had clearly survived a battle with debt and disgrace following her husband's suicide, and had come up triumphant.

"It must have been a very difficult time for her," Margaret said quietly. She could not imagine that her mother or Aunt Shaw would have been able to cope with such difficulties, and in similar circumstances.

"Yes, it was," he said. "With a teenage son and an infant daughter in tow, we had to retrench to the outskirts of Milton for a few years, until we could repay our creditors and remove the stench of it all. Even then, I sometimes worry that some of the past odour may still linger. Scandal, you see, has such a long memory, but I owe my success largely to my mother."

Thornton noticed the look of admiration and respect on Margaret's face as she looked at his mother, and saw a vision of a future that he would also dream to have; for these two women to some day grow to love one another. "Do not despair, some reputation can be restored, even from the most difficult of situations, no matter what Paxman or all of Helstone may say," he added reassuringly.

Mr. Thornton, there is one thing that puzzles me though, how…...how did Mr. Paxman know that Frederick was in Cadiz?" Margaret asked for if Fred's cover had blown, she would have to alert him.

"I actually met Dickenson in Le Havre. He was representing Barbour and Company,….." Thornton said.

"You met him? In France? Oh my goodness. Was he well?" Margaret asked, leaned across and reached out her hand on impulse to grab Thornton's hand. The train kept jostling and Margaret was in danger of losing her balance, so Thornton patted the seat beside him. "Come, sit here, next to me." She gave a quick glace at Mrs. Thornton, and saw she was still fast sleep, so she took the cushion with her, and moved across to join him.

He took her hand in his, and turned his palm upwards to face her palm and hold her hand in place, and then ran his thumb to and fro across her the back of her knuckles stroking every finger with tenderness as he decided to deliver the bad news to her and said, "He denied all knowledge of you, and of ever coming to Milton or even been in the country."

"Of course he would…he would have to," Margaret sighed.

"I suppose such situations will have to remain concealed," Thornton said, irritated that Margaret would wish to continue such a liaison, but then reasoned that it was probably because she did not know that Dickenson was married. He debated whether it was right to tell her the man had a Spanish wife and would never make her an offer, but reasoned that a public place was perhaps not the right setting to disclose the kind of news that would upset her. He considered that it might even be preferable if she could save face, and never let her know that he was aware that she had had a liaison with a married man. Therefore, he decided to be silent on the matter.

"Perhaps it is best we don't even talk about him now. Walls have ears, even in trains," Margaret said. "He is lost to me, but he is all I have left now…no one else."

"He has made a new life for himself in Spain, but be rest assured, you are not all alone. You still have your aunt, your cousin, Mr. Bell…..and if I may say, you still have my friendship," Thornton said, and my heart, he added silently. "You still have my friendship, and my promise to look out for you if you ever need it."

"From what I hear, you are the one that needs care. Your mother said you'd hardly slept in the past week," Margaret replied.

"You could always write to find out if I am being well looked after," he said.

"I have to warn you. I am an avid letter writer. You will get a lot of letters from me, and I look forward to your replies," Margaret said.

"And so you shall, though I fear your family will surely object to our liaison," he said. "A tradesman writing to a lady."

"A gentleman, you mean. But so will she," Margaret said and nodded towards Hannah. "I am too spirited for her liking, and I have some friends that she objects to, like Nicholas and Mary."

"She may seem stern, but she is truly kind hearted," Thornton said.

Margaret said. "I just seem to rub her off the wrong way. I wish it were not so."

"You both riled one other in the past I must admit, but it will all be well you'll see. She doesn't hold grudges," Thornton replied.

A battle raged in Thornton, an argument, between his heart, his mind and his body.

Instinct wanted him to lower his lips onto hers and kiss her.

Commonsense warned him against such reckless presumption.

Instinct argued that this moment was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Commonsense told him they were not alone, and could be seen.

Commonsense prevailed, for he looked up from their entwined fingers, and saw his mother staring at them, with her jaw dropped wide open. Margaret's head also came up and turned to see Mrs. Thornton.

Before Hannah could say a word, Margaret pulled her hand from Thornton's grasp and returned to her seat beside his mother, her dainty hands forming a hood over her eyes, and wishing for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

"How long have you been watching?" Thornton asked Hannah.

"How long had I been asleep?" Hannah asked, eyes darting from Thornton to Margaret and back, and they both turned crimson.

….

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