POLES APART
A/N: Enjoy!
Chapter 7
"Thank you for agreeing to speak with me before meeting with Miss Hale," said Thornton, as he extended his outstretched hand over the haphazard piles of papers and books which littered his over-large desk. Bell, after removing his hat with his usual flourish, accepted the proffered appendage and returned the greeting.
"Did you have poor Williams lying in wait at the mill gate for my arrival?" enquired Bell with disinterested calm as he seated himself in the chair facing the mill master.
"Yes I did," admitted Thornton unabashedly.
"Well, it must be something of great import to occasion such determination; and something sombre if your face is in anyway telling," replied Bell. Though seemingly disinterested his feline orbs had taken in every inch of his surroundings: the mill, Thornton's office and of the man himself; upon entering the establishment.
He had noted that the mill yard seemed almost empty. Usually one was in danger of being flattened by a wagon or cart either entering or exiting the yard laden with bales of raw cotton or already spun cloth. Today, the yard was almost deserted save for one or two workman here and there, and the only visible cotton was a few stray wisps which the crisp morning breeze lazily flicked from one end of the yard to other.
The state of the master's desk had also been noted. The papers and ledgers were stacked in random piles. The corners of the pages were buckled and bruised, and the odd tell-tale corner which protruded from the columns not only indicated the piles had been a hasty and slap-dash attempt to tidy what would other-wise have been an absolute mess, but the odd splashes of red ink which adorned these little slips had the impassive older gentleman wondering if all was well with the mill.
As for Thornton, Bell had never been able to discern any change in the redoubtable master. But today, the man that stood before him, seemed like a shadow of the John Thornton which Bell had come to know over the years.
"I haven't strength for games, nor do I feel that delaying the inevitable would be in any way helpful. I desired this meeting with you to tell you that I shall be closing the mill at the end of the month. I have explored all avenues and have met dead ends at all of them. I must now face the only other option there is – closure."
Bell was surprised, not even he – with all his cunning and acumen – could have disguised his shock at these words. He knew matters must be strained but the thought that Mr Thornton would fail to turn things around had never even occurred to him.
"Are you certain Sir?" He asked out of sheer shock.
"I can assure you that I have exhausted all possible options and should there have been anything I could have done, I should not now be having this conversation with you."
"Of course, my apologies Thornton; I am simply shocked and deeply saddened. What shall you do?"
"I shall find other employment. I have already spoken with some of the other masters in Milton and a few are interested in taking me on as an overseer. I am not afraid of work Mr Bell."
"Of that fact I am well aware Mr Thornton," answered Bell with a knowing smile. His face changed however when the realisation of Thornton's true purpose occurred to him. His expression morphed to one of consternation as he continued; "But you shall have to leave Marlborough Mills?"
"Precisely. I wish to hereby give you formal notice of the mills closure and of our departure from the Mill house at the end of the month." The words came out hard and cold from Thornton's mouth; the strength and fortitude required to utter them was a herculean feat for the already broken Master. He clung onto his composure with every scrap of strength he could still muster.
"And what of Margaret? What shall become of her?"
"I cannot tell you what you must do, but several weeks ago I pledged that I would aid Ms Hale in any way that I could and with all the means at my disposal. Though my means are drastically diminished, I hold by my word. I have looked into some alternate accommodation which though small, should still comfortably house Ms Hale, my mother and myself…"he was about to continue expounding on his plan of action when the older gentleman cut his speech off mid-sentence.
"Do you truly imagine that I would force my God-daughter to vacate the mill simply for the sake of economy?" spluttered Bell, his usually carefree visage becoming stern and austere as he stared down Thornton.
"You shall have to find other tenants Mr Bell, as without the income from the mill, I shall not be in any position to afford the rent, or the servants…"
"Mr Thornton, you are a man of business and as such I understand your confusion. But though I too like to ensure the safety of my investments I would also like to ensure the welfare of my Goddaughter. She cannot stay anywhere on her own. She must have a chaperon, and your mother has graciously accepted this role – for which I am truly grateful. I know that should I make this offer to you as a form of sympathy for your reduced circumstances you would not hesitate to throw it back in my face – as you should. But this is not the case. I offer it out of desperation and should you accept this offer you should be the one to show sympathy to me; for once again assisting me by putting your own needs and plans aside in order to safe-guard Margaret's welfare."
"I, of course, cannot stop you should you desire Mar…Ms Hale to remain at Marlborough, nor, in truth would I wish to move my mother if you still desire her to accompany Ms Hale; but I must and shall depart the premises at the end of the month." His face was set and his voice solemn as he declared his immovability, his stubborn streak coming to the fore as he detected Bells desire to dictate to him how he should manage his own affairs.
"You would abandon an old woman who has just recently had to cope with the loss of her livelihood, and a young girl who is still trying to come to terms with the death of both her parents, because your pride forbids it?" asked Bell scathingly, his tone dripping with undisguised ire.
Thornton shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Bell always had the ability to discompose him – Damn him!
"And perhaps, by your reckoning, I should even be asking for payment for my services, Sir?" spat Thornton, his fury with Bell's direct speech and his own damnable pride spilling out.
"I refuse to split hairs with you Thornton! You shall be doing me a huge favour by staying on here to care for Margaret and in return I shall grant you the much smaller favour of your remaining here at the house rent free. I do not see that this occasions a need for hostilities between us or a need for your pride to be wounded. I could still find a tenant for the mill itself, if that would appease you!" Bell did not want to argue with Thornton. He never was one to favour conflict or to court enmity, but in this instance he would not accept Thornton's skewed logic and righteous attempt at valour.
Though angered by Thornton's intractability he knew the man would not be easy to win around, especially not if he continued down the path he had so far had taken. No, if was going to succeed in making Thornton see sense he would have to approach this particular Mule from another angle.
"I know that you refuse to discuss the issue of your marriage to my god daughter," he continued at last, after carefully choosing the right words to say. He raised his hand in a mute attempt to silence Thornton, knowing what his reaction would be to this announcement, "but I am not so easily fooled! You care for her - how deeply I shall keep to myself, but even a blind man with naught but a gnarled stick with which to discern his surroundings could see that your feelings for Margaret are profound. If you cannot (for reasons unfathomable) bring yourself to marry her, then can you not at least find it within you, to do this one small thing for her?"
It appeared as if Bell's attempts to wrong-foot Thornton had finally succeeded; Thornton's iron resolve buckled. The weeks of worry and heartache had gnawed at him till he felt that he was but a hollow shell. The old Thornton would have attacked Bell for his impertinence and presumption, but instead he slumped down in his chair, his eyes downcast into his lap unseeingly - beaten.
"No doubt with your keen powers of observation and deduction Mr Bell, you should by now know that there is nothing I wouldn't do for Margaret." The words were uttered in a soft whisper and with such heart-wrenching sorrow that the force of them struck the staid gentleman to his core.
Bell waited for Thornton to regain his composure and continue, but the silence stretched on; Thornton apparently lost in his own torturous day dream. But now that the taboo subject had been raised, Bell was hesitant to drop it.
"Save for marrying her?" he enquired, never one to resist pushing his luck.
"If you can believe anything of me, believe that I love her with every fibre of my soul. I do not feel compelled to explain myself, or my actions to you, but in the interest of finally putting this matter to rest I shall tell you that Margaret is aware of my affections and does not reciprocate them. This fact does not diminish my love for her, but I will not force her to marry me out of some seeming obligation to me, or simply out of convenience for you. I do not desire her hand without her love, but she may have everything of me - with or without it."
Thornton had raised his head to look Bell in the eye whilst he spoke his heart. The burden which had been pressing in on him for so long lifting, if only for an instant. After the words were spoken however, the weight of his sorrow settled once more on his heart and brow. Somehow, saying the words out loud - admitting to the world that Margaret did not care for him, was more painful than when he just had tell himself these words. They seemed truer now; more solid; more real.
Bell felt genuine pity for Thornton; though it been a whole life time ago, the sting of his own youthful rejection was as fresh and bitter as if it had only happened yesterday.
It wasn't difficult to understand what Thornton saw in the lovely Margaret to entrance him so; what was puzzling was why Margaret, who in Mr Bells humble opinion, was just as much in love with Thornton as he was with her; would reject his offer of marriage. Granted, Thornton had now lost his fortune, but he knew that even when this circumstance was conveyed to Margaret this consideration would not weigh with her; and besides, if there was ever a man who could pick himself up and regain all he had lost and more, it was Thornton. He knew it wouldn't be long before he heard the name John Thornton spoken in the highest circles.
Well, as lovely as women were, he never could understand them. Poor Thornton…well, at least Bell knew that the argument was over. Thornton would stay – for Margaret.
With this realisation the older gentleman stood up.
"I shall discuss these matters with my man of business and have him inform you as soon as we have managed to find another tenant for the factory. I shall not say anything to Margaret on the matter, but when you do inform her of the mills closure please be sure to remind her that should she need anything she need only ask me."
"I shall ensure that she wants for nothing Sir," replied Thornton coldly.
"I believe you Thornton," was all the reply Bell made. He extended his hand once again to bid his farewells but Thornton had turned his back on him and didn't see the gesture.
Bell dropped his proffered arm and after one last pitiful glance at Thornton he left the office.
xxx
Thornton had hoped Bell had come with news that would aid Margaret, but he had not. Bell had placed all his hope on Thornton eventually warming to the idea of marriage to Margaret, as if his heart was the one in question. Thornton actually had to scoff at the thought! As if any man who knew Margaret would not fall instantly in love with her! Had the cunning old fox not himself once mentioned that were it not for the vast difference in age between them, that he would marry Margaret himself.
And Bell would not even do him the courtesy if informing her of the mills closure. No, he had left that degradation for him to bear. Well, if truth be told, he was glad of it. He was the failure – who should have to bear that burden, if not him? He would waste no time, he would tell Margaret as soon as Bell left.
This however took much longer than he had originally imagined. The wait was bound to be an interminable one but as Bell, as a treat, had decided to take Margaret on the train for a day visit to her old home in Helstone, the torturous delay was an agony.
Upon their eventual return that evening Margaret had retired early to bed, claiming the days outing had left her with a nagging headache. Bell did not remain long after Margaret's withdrawal. He stayed only long enough to apologise to Mrs Thornton for upsetting her ward. He had sincerely hoped that a trip to her childhood home would cheer her. Familiar faces and surroundings, might make her forget her sorrows. But instead it had seemed to have quite the opposite effect on her.
So many changes had taken place at Helstone since her family's departure that she hardly knew the place. What had once been a solace and comfort to her very soul was now altered and alien to her. She had tried to put a brave face on for Bell's sake but all she wished to do was to return home – to Milton.
She spent an uneasy night tossing and turning in her bed. Confused visions of Thornton standing in the doorway of her old home in Helstone, chastising her for picking all the roses and telling her that she wasn't welcome there anymore; haunted her restless sleep. She awoke early the following morning; the sun had not yet risen and the house was still engulfed in inky silence.
She couldn't bear to put her head back down on her pillow only to be assailed by more nightmares and so instead she quietly arose and dressed herself, intending to sneak down stairs to the sanctuary of the study to while away the predawn hours.
As she opened the study door she saw that the room was awash with a warm glow flickering across its walls. The source of the light was a small fire crackling in the hearth and a lamp which was burning low on the large mahogany desk.
"Ms Hale?" came the rather tired and surprised voice of Mr Thornton from behind the monolithic piece of furniture.
Margaret was frozen with something akin to panic. He was the last person she had wished to encounter, yet as she pushed the door ajar and was confronted by the orange glow within, she knew it had to be Thornton. She couldn't seem to stop herself; her eyes had immediately locked with his. She wanted to run back upstairs but he held her gaze.
They hadn't spoken since that night at the mill and she was still so overcome with the memory of it that she found she couldn't even be in his presence for very long for fear of breaking down in a flood of tears; a weakness she absolutely abhorred but seemed unable to stem.
"Please don't go," he begged, apparently able to read her thoughts.
"I must," she whispered back in reply. Despite her fear, her sadness and her humiliation, there were other reasons that she must not remain. She had risked all before but in the house there was a far greater chance of being observed.
"They are all asleep, and I wish to talk with you…alone, if you will permit me?" he enquired gently. He had risen from the large wingback chair behind the desk and was moving towards her where she stood trapped in the doorway, still gripping the doorknob for support.
In his typical take-charge fashion he had walked over to her and after gently prising her fingers off the doorknob and closing the door behind her, he led her over to another chair beside the fire. Her fingers seemed like ice in his warm grip, and after releasing her hand he hastily set about stirring the coals in the grate.
Margaret didn't fight him. She found that she had no strength left. Her knees shook and her breath was shallow; had he not taken her hand and helped her sit she was sure she would have collapsed.
"Are you feeling any better Ms Hale?"
"Hmmm?" was the dazed reply which he got to his question; Margaret's mind was a million miles away.
"Your headache," he prompted, "has it subsided?"
"Oh, yes…a little," she answered, somewhat more coherently this time.
"Mr Bell was sorry that your journey had pulled you so. He said that you had not found Helstone as you had thought to find it."
She could see he was agitated and was trying to make small talk.
"Yes, I suppose that is a lesson to everyone, to never look back. Life moves on whether we want it to or not, and sometimes it is better to let the past go and instead make the best of the present."
After he had finished stoking the fire, he seated himself in the chair opposite from hers. He could feel her eyes on him but he couldn't look at her – not now, not when he was about to confess his ineptitudes.
She still couldn't tear her eyes away from his face. She hadn't seen him in so long that she had almost forgotten what his face looked like. Even though she dreamt of him almost every night, the face that haunted her nightmares was not the one before her now. Her Thornton was cross and bitter. His face was dark and twisted, distorted with hate and rage – usually at her; but this face was soft and warm, his eyes looked tired and sad and his skin seemed deathly pale in the orange glare of the fire.
"I am sorry for your pain, but you are right, looking back often causes more pain that it mends."
She nodded her head, but as he still wouldn't face her he didn't notice. He was still desperately trying to garner enough courage to say all that needed to be said. Finally, with an immense struggle and after a deep intake of breathe, he plunged forward.
"I understand that this is somewhat irregular; I had meant to speak with you last night but upon your return you had been unwell and so I had intended to leave the matter for the morning. You have pre-empted me, however; a fact I find I am grateful for as what I have to relate is not pleasant and I would rather get it over with before I have a chance to change my mind." He knew the words would be hard to say but he knew that he had best get it over with, that he may deal with the consequences as soon as possible.
"The mill is to close at the end of the month." He finally lifted his head to look into to her soft eyes as he spoke the words.
She didn't reply, her only visible reaction to his pronouncement was a slight widening of her dark eyes. She remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
"The strike was but the beginning of the end for us. Had the market picked up we may have been able to recover, but as it was…well, it didn't, and the result is closure."
"I am so very sorry Mr Thornton," replied Margaret in a husky whisper. Her heart ached continually these days and she didn't think it was possible to feel even more pain and sorrow, but listening to his deadened voice she felt all the anguish that he wouldn't allow himself to feel, wash over her.
"That is the way with business."
"Could things not still take a turn for the better?" she asked hesitantly, wishing rather than believing it to be possible.
"It is a miracle we have been able to hold on this long. I could have risked it all on Fanny and her husband's scheme. Had I, the mill would have been saved."
Margaret shut her eyes tight at this confession. She knew in her heart that he had made the right decision not to risk the mill and his workers livelihoods on a gamble, but knowing now that the risk would have paid off caused her throat to close with anxiety for every torturous feeling of regret and blame and self-recrimination which she could detect in his voice.
"You could not have known that. You made what you felt to be the right decision, and you must accept that."
"Thank you Ms Hale. My mind tells me that I was right, but for a sick hollow feeling in my stomach I might actually believe it."
Oh, how her heart ached for him. She could not believe how much she had grown to rely on the mills fixedness and the security both it and Mr Thornton's presence offered her.
"Will you leave Milton?" she whispered. Her stomach clenched at the prospect of his answer.
"No, that is not my intension. I shall seek employment at one of the other mills, there are some that have been lucky enough to fend off foreclosure; and I come well qualified."
"But…you are your own master, how will you adapt?"
"Do you think me so proud Ms Hale?" asked Thornton, his voice cold but not hard. He knew Margaret thought him rough and proud, her acquiescence would not shock him.
"Yes; but you have every right to be proud of your achievements. Your mill may have failed but it was not though your mismanagement. You have no reason to bow your head in shame."
These words, however, did shock him. It sounded almost to his ears as if Margaret was defending him.
"Does Mr Bell know? Surely he could invest. I'm sure with a bit more money and time you could salvage the mill…"
"Mr Bell is not looking to invest in cotton. Besides which, he has already been gracious enough to permit us to continue living here in the house for so long as you… for as long as necessary," he faltered, "I could not ask more of him."
"Oh," was her only reply. She realised now that had she not been staying with the Thornton's that they would have been forced to move; Mr Bell was only being kind because of her.
"In that case, I shall look for employment immediately. I shan't be a burden to you Mr Thornton, I assure you that I have every intension of paying my own way."
"You will do no such thing!" he spluttered, almost unable to believe his own ears.
"I admit that I do not come as highly qualified as you do," she continued, pretending not hear his rebuke; "but I am not completely inept. Whilst we stayed in Crampton I became rather proficient at washing and ironing, and with the lessons in needlework I have received from your mother I'm sure I could find a position at a dressmakers shop, or if that may not be had I could always do piece work."
"Ms Hale, please listed to me! Though my circumstances are not what they once were I am perfectly able to care for you as well as my mother and me. I shall not permit you to seek employment whilst staying as a guest of my mothers." His hands gripped the arm-rests of his chair with white-knuckled intensity.
"I did not intend the offer to be offensive, I simply wish to help. I am not the same girl I was when first we met Mr Thornton. My circumstances too have changed; pride is not a luxury I can afford these days."
"If there is anything which you may be requiring which I am unable to provide, Mr Bell has asked that you contact him immediately and he shall make provision."
"So you will have me beg of Mr Bell, rather than earn my own money? You feel that begging is less degrading than earning an honest living?"
"Mr Bell is your guardian, and he has as much told me that he would give you all he owns if he thought there was any possibility of your accepting it." The words cut deep for him to utter, but he watched her expression intently, waiting to see how she would react.
At first Margaret was going to argue her point until the full realisation of his words hit her and after stammering incoherently for a few minutes she bowed her head over her lap trying to hide her blushes.
He felt a sort of vindictive joy wash over him; not because he had made Margaret uncomfortable but more because she evidently thought much the same of the scheme as he did, and it soothed him a bit to know that no matter how bad things may be for her she would not marry simply to secure her own comfort. The joy was short lived however, when he remembered that his offer for her hand had been met in much the same light as Mr Bell's.
"I have no wish to be an added burden for yourself or your mother, Mr Thornton; and I think you know me well enough to know that I could never live my life as someone else's possession. I shall consult with your mother on what she feels is the best course of action for me, but I feel I must press my point of finding employment." She could see that he was about to interject again and so hastily continued before he could cut her off.
"Your mother, though well brought up and fastidious to the point of pain on all things proper, is not so fine and proud that she would sit idly in a corner while her son worked his fingers to the bone to provide for her comfort. I feel that though we have not always seen eye to eye, your mother will support me in this decision. Of course I will not take a position which either of you feel to be beneath me or degrading to yourselves, but I must and will work to earn my keep – on that point my mind is made up."
Thornton didn't reply, but merely stared at her face which was calm, though her jaw was set. A small crease appeared at the corner of his mouth as a smile forced its way to the fore – she really was quite something.
"You are laughing at me?" she asked, her voice betraying the hurt she felt at this callous act.
"On the contrary Ms Hale, I am in awe of you. Up until a few minutes before you came into my study tonight I thought that the news which I was about to relate to you would be the final blow to your already overwrought and depressed spirits, but now that I look into your eyes, they almost seem to be aglow with renewed vigour! If I had known that all you needed to raise your spirits was meaningful employment I would have set you to work in the mill as soon as you arrived here!" His eyes danced in the glow from the fire and his voice suddenly seemed light and jocular.
Margaret's face brightened somewhat at his explanation and she too smiled, something which she hadn't done in weeks.
"Well, I can only say that it was a good thing that you didn't, for I'm sure my ineptitude would have forced you to close the mill much sooner!"
It was nice to smile and make light of such weighty issues, but Thornton's smile eventually waned as he continue to stare at her. "No Miss Hale, I must be serious in this matter. I will not permit you to work, and from that resolve I shall not be moved."
For all that Margaret had felt sure that all remnants of her former life and self, had been washed away by all the floods of tears she had cried over the last month, a small spark of herself must have remained deep inside her. She cast Thornton a determined glare, so reminiscent of her former self before replying, that his stomach seemed to lurch a little from the unbidden memory of that very same unwavering stare as it held him captivated as she had thrown her arms about his neck in her futile attempt to protect him from the strikers all those months ago.
"I appreciate your sentiment Mr Thornton, but thankfully I do not require your permission." She hastily stood after her pronouncement as she could tell that the red hue that was fast spreading over his pale face was not from the fire and she had no desire to get into another argument with him.
"If you will excuse me, I think I hear one of the servants moving about – I had best retire to my room." She was in fact about to make good her escape when just as she was about grab hold of the door handle she felt his warm strong fingers wrap around her other wrist from behind, holding her back.
"Must you always defy me? Do you not see I say this for your own good? You refused to listen to me when the strikers were breaking down the mill door and recall how that incident ended for you," he growled.
"I know you see me in the light of a rebellious child but my actions are not done simply to be defiant, I do what I feel in my heart is the right thing to do. I know that that this may not always be the wisest course of action but I must follow my heart. I am more like my father than I ever realised…" She smiled to herself as this thought gave her comfort. "I am grateful that I have such good friends as you and Mr Bell to see to my welfare, but I am all alone in this world now and it is as well that I accept that fact and live my life the best way I know how. I cannot forever be a burden on you, or Mr Bell or even my Aunt…"
"No, you shall marry and become a burden to your poor husband," he quipped facetiously.
Stung by his unnecessary cruelty, especially after her painstaking attempts to keep the disagreement between them from boiling over and becoming a full blown argument, she snatched her arm out of his grasp, (which unbeknownst to him had started to become firmer and firmer around her dainty wrist), and wrenching open the door, turned to look at him one last time before departing.
"Well, as that poor man will not be you, you need not concern yourself further with the matter!" And as she hurled the words at him she darted out of the study and back up the stairs.
This time no tears were shed; instead she sat on the edge of her bed massaging her bruised wrist where the red outlines of Thornton's fingers still glowed, and began making plans for her future.
