It had been a quiet morning for Margaret. After a fortnight of tumultuous events and feelings, it was a relief to her to have some time to herself and have a day in which she trusted no new calamities would occur. She spent much of the morning sitting with her father, both occupied in various pursuits and little conversation between them. She hoped that he would soon feel up to the task of beginning his lessons again. Too much isolation would be detrimental to his state of mind, restless as he was capable of being. But she was also unsure of when would be a good time to make a gentle hint without injuring his feelings.
This and one other thought absorbed her mind while she sat in silence. She couldn't help wondering when Nicholas might approach Mr. Thornton and how he would be received. Her father had spoken sagely when he cautioned her against hoping too much. Though Mr. Thornton had done far more than required of a friend in their service, the situation was entirely different for Nicholas. He was not appealing to a family friend, but to a potential employer; Mr. Thornton would not be hearing the plea of a worried sister, but the request of a Union man.
And still she hoped that it would turn out well. Her expectations of Mr. Thornton had risen drastically in the last few days, and she was more optimistic than she knew she reasonably should be. She was anxious and eager for information, to know what occurred between two men who stood so diametrically in opposition to each other. The longer she dwelt on the possible outcomes of their encounter, the more agitated she became, strongly hoping for good news and yet fearing for bad. In hopes that she could clear her head with motion, she retrieved her coat and hat, intending to walk through the country.
Her father, seeing her in her outer garb, said in an approving voice, "Ah, Margaret, are you going to see Mrs. Boucher? Good girl."
She reddened at his assumption, but had not the heart to disappoint him and replied, "I will gladly go there, Father, while you take your nap. I shall return shortly."
He nodded with a gentle smile. "You need not hurry. I know I do not need to worry over you, my dear."
She retreated in embarrassment, and accordingly went. She would not make herself a liar and not visit Mrs. Boucher now. But within herself, she dreaded calling on the poor woman, particularly if Mrs. Boucher was in a similar state of irritation and resentment as she had been the day before.
When Margaret arrived at the little home, however, her original hesitance turned to shame. Mrs. Boucher was changed; indeed, she was very ill, and not merely ailing. The kind neighbor who had accompanied Margaret before was there and had taken charge of the woman's care. Mary Higgins had taken the children back to their home, and Nicholas had gone for the doctor.
"But I do not think the doctor will tell us any different," the kind woman murmured in Margaret's ear. "She is dying, I'm certain, and we have only to wait."
Horrified at this news, Margaret asked, "Will she not rouse herself for her children's sake?"
She was answered with a sad shake of the head. "She is too weak now; she complained against her man fiercely yesterday, but she depended on him something terrible."
"I am sorry," Margaret said, hanging her head. "I wish I had been able to do something for her."
The woman patted her arm kindly. "You could not have done more; there is no stopping such a thing when she is so determined to follow her husband."
Margaret could not comprehend such behavior, but was unable to answer when a knock came at the door and the doctor appeared. Margaret was unnecessary at present, so she left the house and went the short way to the Higginses' home. Perhaps she could at least make herself useful to Mary if the children were there. And if Nicholas had returned, she could discover what came of his application to Mr. Thornton.
She found him occupied in entertaining three of the children, making a penny spin. Such a scene was heartening to her, and she felt her hopes rise that all had gone well. Taking a seat opposite him and gathering the smallest child onto her lap, she braved the question that had hounded her all morning. "Were you able to see Mr. Thornton today?"
Nicholas's face immediately changed to a disgusted grimace. "Aye, I saw and heard too much of him today."
In that instant her hopes fell to the floor. "He refused you, then?"
Even as he spun the penny, he contorted his face in a resigned manner. "I knew he would, so don't you be fretting on that. You're still a stranger here, and weren't like to know how deep feelings run against us. I knew it."
Margaret tried to rally her spirits. "I am sorry. I hope that he at least spoke kinder to you than Hamper did."
Nicholas did not smother the snort he gave in response. "He weren't over-civil, but I didn't expect nothing else from him. I gave him as good as I got. I told him I hadn't so good an opinion as to come of myself, but that another urged me to it."
"Did you tell him that I sent you?" Margaret asked in dismay. If he had known of her involvement and still sent Nicholas away with rough words, her disappointment would be more the greater.
"I don't know as I said your name. I did say a woman had sent me along to see if there was a soft place in his heart."
She knew that there was, but it seemed Nicholas had not touched it. "And he -"
"Said for you to mind your own business," he finished for her, still spinning the penny. "But don't you worry, Miss. I'm not any worse off than I was yesterday, and I'll not sit idly on and let these little ones clem and starve."
It was evident that Nicholas attributed her reaction only to her concern for the children. This suited her just as well, for it would do no good to confess how high her hopes had been for Mr. Thornton. Still she could not resist voicing a part of her opinion. "I am sorry I asked you to go to Mr. Thornton's. I am disappointed in him."
The door behind her creaked, she and Nicholas turned swiftly, and her eyes widened in horror. There in the doorway stood Mr. Thornton, his face an inscrutable mask. But she had no doubt that he had heard her. The children, running in and out as they pleased, had left the door open, so there was nothing to stop him hearing her words when he stood so close.
She felt the heat in her face rise, and she impulsively stood, pushing the squirming child off her lap gently as she did so. She did not know at all what to say, and instinctively, without giving either man another glance, she rushed out the door, hearing only the clang of the door shutting behind her.
Could she possibly explain to him her true meaning? After everything that had happened between them, would he think she was still rigid in her original view of him? Could she convince him otherwise when her own words condemned her? She returned to Mrs. Boucher's side in turmoil, her mind engaged by the man she had just fled from.
He, meanwhile, was doing his best to forget her presence, and how her expression of disappointment stung at his heart. He had thought she looked at him differently; had he just deluded himself? With an inaudible sigh, he turned to face Higgins, determined to carry through with his original purpose for coming here.
Higgins had accused him of not having a soft place in his heart, and though he dreaded public exposure of his tenderness, he would not have it said by anyone that he was not just. And almost immediately after Higgins had left Marlborough Mills he felt he had been unjust in dismissing him as he had, especially considering the man had waited five hours to speak with him. He was compelled by this realization to investigate Higgins's story, even though he had little time to spare.
He had almost hoped to prove Higgins's tale wrong in his search, to justify in some way his brusque refusal, but it was too clear that what the man had spoken was true. Through his discoveries the worthy attributes and character of Higgins were revealed, that despite his gruff and unpolished exterior, he had a patience and generosity far beyond many men. Thus Thornton's desire to serve justice was overcome by a kinder instinct, and he determined to give Higgins work.
But his annoyance at Margaret's words was not so easily put aside, even as he wished to get to the matter at hand. "So Miss Hale was the woman who told you to come to me?" he asked, irritated. "You might have said so."
"And you'd have been more civil in what you said of her, and how you spoke to me?" Nicholas responded with a smirk.
Mr. Thornton exhaled heavily, looking around him. He would not deign to reply to the jibe. Instead, he hoped to direct the conversation elsewhere. "Whose children are these?" he asked awkwardly, perfectly aware of the answer.
"They are mine and they are not."
"And they are the children you spoke of?"
"You didn't believe me," Nicholas replied, a triumphant gleam in his eye at being proved honest. "I've not forgotten."
"Nor have I," Mr. Thornton admitted. "I spoke to you in a way I had no business to. I did not believe you. I could not have taken care of a man such as Boucher's children. But I have asked about, and I know now you spoke the truth. I beg your pardon."
For a man such as Thornton to beg his pardon put Nicholas in an unexpected position. He had never thought to see a master humble himself and admit his wrongs. His surprise at Thornton's manner almost eclipsed his indignation that Thornton would pry into his private affairs.
"Well, Boucher's dead," he said gruffly, "and I'm sorry for it. That's enough."
"Will you take work with me? That's what I came to ask."
Higgins did not answer right away, uncertain if he would accept the offer, no matter how impressed he was that Thornton would own up to his error. But as he looked around at the children, he knew this was no time to stand on pride. If Thornton was willing to come to his home and admit his mistake, he could extend himself part of the way.
"You've called me impudent and a liar, and I've called you a tyrant and an old bull-dog in my time. But if you think we can get on despite it, for the sake of these children, work is work. I'll come, and what's more I'll thank you, and that's a deal from me."
"And this is a deal from me," Thornton replied, extending his hand in a gesture that surprised them both. Nevertheless, Nicholas took it in a firm grip.
The agreement between them reached, only a few short words further were necessary, and Mr. Thornton soon took his leave. He had not gone far when Margaret emerged from a nearby house, and the sight of her stopped him in his tracks. She did not notice him at first, her eyes downcast, and his instinct on seeing her withdrawn expression was to go to her and ask what was wrong. But he resisted the impulse; if she felt the need to escape his presence only a few minutes before, she would probably not care to speak with him now.
In a moment, she looked up and their eyes met. He shifted rigidly, his face once more settling into a mask. If all she believed of him was his indifference to the plight of a generous man, she must have nothing to say to him. He prepared himself to pass by without a word, but to his great shock she hesitated a bare instant before coming straight toward him.
Before he could react to her approach, she spoke. "Mr. Thornton," she said, her voice filled with a soft pleading. "I hope you will allow me to explain. Heaven knows what you must think of me and what I said to Nicholas, but please do not be angry with me."
She could see his eyes shift about as if he did not know where to look. She herself was a little astonished at her boldness, but she knew the instant she saw him that if she did not speak quickly she would lose her nerve. His silence did nothing to calm her unrest, but she stood still expectantly, waiting with bated breath for him to say something.
Finally he pulled himself out of his stupor. "You will hardly need to explain yourself now, Miss Hale. Your disappointment, I fear, will be short-lived. I have taken Higgins on."
With a slight intake of breath, she allowed herself a pleased smile, even if he would not reciprocate. "I am glad of it. I had hoped you would."
"Yes," he said shortly. "I assumed as much a few minutes ago."
He began to walk away, but she halted him by asking, "Will you not allow me to explain myself?"
He felt some shame when he took in the indignant hurt in her eyes, but his own pride had been wounded, and he was obstinate in his annoyance. For once today, he wanted to be in the right. "There is no need for explanations," he repeated. "You were disappointed, and I have spent too long away from my work. I must get back," he finished hurriedly, moving to walk once more.
But he underestimated her own obstinacy, as she immediately followed and kept pace with him. "Then I will simply have to walk with you until I have said my fill."
Exasperated by her stubborn refusal to let him alone, he turned to face her. "To what purpose, Miss Hale?"
Her face was incredulous. "I want us to understand each other, Mr. Thornton. Do you not desire the same thing?"
It would be completely improper for him to voice all his desires regarding her, so he kept silent.
"We have spent far too much of our acquaintance misunderstanding one another, and I am weary of it. You are so careful to be clear in all you say and do, and I only ask that you do me the justice of making myself clear to you. Judging from your current treatment of me, you think the worst of what you heard me say, and I do not wish that we continue in such a fashion, where we assume that the other is speaking in the harshest terms. I do not regret voicing my disappointment before, but I do think you are being unreasonable in denying me a chance to clarify my meaning."
He was amazed at the way she combined authority and pleading in her voice, and if he was honest, he could grant her assertion that he was being unreasonable, mortified as his ego had been. Moreover, her observation of his habit of speaking with care was an unexpected dart in her arsenal, and he was intrigued that she had noticed such a thing. With a grudging sigh, he said, "Very well. I will hear you. But if you would still be so kind as to walk with me, I did not exaggerate my urgency in returning to the mill."
Pleased that he relented with no further argument, Margaret replied, "Certainly." But as they began to walk again, she was unsure of how to begin. This was always her obstacle with him!
"By now you know that I was the woman who advised Nicholas to appeal to you for work," she uttered meekly.
"And I'm sure he told you my response."
She bit her lip. It was too perverse a situation that she was almost tempted to laugh. "Yes, about how meddling women should mind their own business."
"I did not know at the time that you were the one who urged him to come to me."
"Would it have made it more or less likely that you would have said it?" she quipped.
"I . . ." he was caught off-guard. "I don't know. I hope I would not have, if that's any assurance."
"Now that you know it was me who suggested it, are you not at all curious as to why I did?"
Once again, he stood still. As a matter of fact, that question, so obvious, had not occurred to him at all. He looked at her fully, seeing the intent look of her eye as she studied him. Clearly she had her reasons, and all at once he felt he was a great fool for not wondering what they were. "I . . ." he stammered, feeling out of his depth.
She cut in, sparing him the need to elaborate. "I did so because I know what kind of man you are, one with a good heart." That very organ thumped vigorously in his chest. "I know you are a fair-minded man, one who is just and understanding. I said as much to Frederick barely a fortnight ago. I told Nicholas to speak to you because I thought that if he could look past the master, he would see the man that I see, the man who is capable of great kindness."
Her voice faltered as her embarrassment grew. To praise him so brazenly to his face was something she had not done, and her face felt warm as she looked down, unable to meet his dumbfounded expression. "After all," she said softly," you have proved your kindness to me many times over."
He was tempted to pinch himself to know for certain that he was not dreaming. He was flabbergasted at her open approval, and he could hardly believe it to be true. Was this still short-lived praise inspired by gratitude, or was it something more lasting? He hoped fervently it was the latter, and now he even started to believe it a little. But it was still so incredible he could not bring himself to speak.
"I was disappointed," she admitted, still staring at her feet. "I was disappointed on Nicholas's account, and the children's. But I was more disappointed for you. In the past while, I have come to have such high hopes and expectations for you." She forced herself to meet his eye, praying she could withstand with the intensity with which he looked at her. "Because you have gone above and beyond all my hopes, and I couldn't help believing that you would always do so."
If there was any evidence that their attention was completely absorbed by one another, it was the mere fact that both had forgotten they were in a public street, drawing curious glances from passersby. But they were oblivious to the whispers and wondering of those who observed them, so focused were they on each other. The only comfort was that their distance from each other spared them any of the more impertinent tittle-tattle that could have been derived from their conference.
"I am afraid, Mr. Thornton, that when you heard me say I was disappointed in you, that you were convinced that I had resumed my previous opinion of you, one which," she blushed, "I was unafraid of expressing at the time. But you must know that my impressions of you have changed, and I will not be so blind again to your virtues."
He held his breath, sure she was on the brink of something significant, and he was fearful of spoiling it.
"I was disappointed," she repeated, "but that is only because I think so well of you."
It was hardly a passionate declaration of love, but he could have leapt for joy as the memory of her rejection rose up and was shoved away by this transformation. For her to speak and admit without hesitation of such a change was nothing short of miraculous. He had never felt so confident and exhilarated, and it was all he could do keep from beaming at her.
His expression must have revealed a tiny sliver of his happiness, for her face seemed to relax and lighten as she held his gaze. She even permitted a chuckle to escape her as she continued with an easier tone. "After all, if you look at the situation logically, no one can be disappointed if they don't have high hopes or expectations. You should have been able to deduce my good opinion simply because I said I was disappointed."
His smile burst forth as he replied, "I believe only you, Miss Hale, would use logic in such a way to set me thoroughly in my place." She smiled sweetly in response. "Of course," he dared a more joking inflection in his voice, "it is a perfectly reasonable assertion you have set forth, and I should have thought of it myself."
The tension between them having eased, they began to walk again, finally becoming aware that they were not alone. But he found it difficult to care, so pleased was he with her confession, and she, happy that they had reached some understanding, told herself to pay the other people no heed.
"You are right, however," Mr. Thornton continued, the levity in his voice gone, though his coldness was at an end, "that we have spent a great deal of time misunderstanding each other and believing that we both judge the worst of one another. This must be my excuse for not giving way to reason. We are out of practice at being friends, I believe."
Margaret could not disagree with this, and given her altering feelings for him, she hoped that their acquaintance could blossom into friendship. But at once she felt that even this was inadequate, and her words were choked away at this realization. They had reached the road at which they must part ways and stopped again.
In farewell, he held a hand out to her. "Shall we resolve to try and be friends?" It was far less than he desired, but it was a beginning at least.
She smiled gently, telling herself that this was enough, and she took his hand gladly. "I would like that."
A/N: Come tomorrow night, I will be going out of town for almost two weeks (an unexpected assignment from my husband's work and I'm lucky that with a little finagling I can tag along), and while I try to stay ahead, this will interrupt my usual goals at posting chapters, since I try to not go more than about four days or so. And I just don't know how much time I'll be able to dedicate to writing. We'll see, but I just wanted to give you a heads-up in case I post chapters slower. Thanks for your reviews and support! See you on the other side!