Chapter 14: Comfort in Sorrow

Marlborough Mills, Tuesday October 21, 1851

Margaret awoke on Tuesday cold and in unfamiliar surroundings. As she blinked her eyes open, she noted that the walls and bed linens were dark and the decoration sparse. Rolling onto her back and glancing around the room, her eyes finally rested on the familiar form of her husband. She rolled closer to nudge his side and he instantly wrapped his arm around her, enveloping her in his soothing warmth.

The past few days had been a blur of grief and anxious activity. Yesterday they had laid her mother to rest on a hill overlooking the city. Although women of her class did not generally attend funerals, Margaret argued her case fiercely and her father and husband yielded to her wishes. Her mother-in-law, of course, disapproved but had little power to prevent her. The spectacle of a funeral had attracted the usual curious crowd at the funeral ceremony, but it was comprised of mostly strangers. Nicholas and Mary Higgins were a welcome sight. Nicholas wore his usual fustian clothes, but had a bit of black stuff sewn round his hat—a mark of mourning which he had never shown to his daughter Bessy's memory. Mr. Bell could not come. He had the gout. It was a most affectionate letter, and expressed great and true regret for his inability to attend and his bewildered congratulations on Margaret's marriage. And so it was that only Margaret, John and Dixon attended Mr. Hale to the cemetery. The four people in all of Milton who truly grieved Mrs. Hale's loss.

There had been no question of Margaret or Mr. Hale removing from the house while Mrs. Hale's body remained there. John had patiently and unquestioningly stayed with her throughout but he did have a mill to run, and a household of his own to return to. So after the funeral, Margaret had convinced her bereft and lethargic father to remove with them to Marlborough Mills. She could not bear the thought of him alone in that empty house with nobody but Dixon and his memories to keep him company. It was a solemn party that had entered the house the previous evening. Margaret suspected that it was only years of hosting dinners and rebuilding her own social credit following her husband's unfortunate demise that allowed Mrs. Thornton to receive them with civility.

The clock struck six drawing her back to the present. She heard a rumbling moan from her husband. She instinctively draped her arm across his chest. "Margaret, I have to get up."

Her grip tightened. "Must you?"

He groaned and began trailing a soothing, tingling caress across her back. "I must, I haven't spent as many days away from the mill as I have in the past week and a half since …" he paused and considered, "well, I don't know that I ever have."

She lifted her head and looked at him, "I will miss you," she said tremulously. It was a simple phrase, but it encompassed so much more. For the past four days he had been her anchor, stabilizing her in troubled waters. How was she to manage without him even for the day?

His eyes were soft, worried, and full of so much love when he let out a soft, "oh my Margaret!" He then bent his head and kissed her tenderly. "You know that I would gladly remain here with you, but you did not marry one of those idle refined southern gentlemen. I must see to business." Margaret got the impression that he was trying to convince himself as much as her. As soon as this speech was finished, he reclaimed her lips. Knowing that this kiss would have to fortify her until that evening, Margaret returned it with greater fervor than she had done in the past. John moaned and shifted so that she was on her back and he was leaning over her. She reveled in the comforting weight of him, the heat radiating from his body, the demanding reverence of his lips on hers. He pulled back breathlessly and rested his forehead against hers, gently stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. "I've woken at this time every day for most of my life, and yet I've never had such trouble rising from this bed."

"Well, you've never woken to your wife in this bed until today," Margaret teased.

John gave a low growl and lowered his head to her shoulder. "No, but as I have not the time to give my wife the proper attention she deserves," he dropped a lingering kiss against her neck, "we shall have to continue this tonight." Margaret sighed as he rolled off of the bed and began dressing for his day.

"Will you be home for dinner?" She asked hopefully.

His brow furrowed and he reluctantly answered, "no, it is unlikely, but I shall be home for supper." As he moved off into the dressing room she sighed and rose herself. If she was to be denied his company at dinner, she would not miss breakfast with him by lounging abed.

It had taken every scrap of willpower John had to get out of that bed. He had been married for four days. He had spent four nights sleeping with Margaret in his arms. However, the situation still hadn't felt right to develop the physical side of their relationship. While staying in Crampton, it had seemed highly irreverent while Mrs. Hale's body rested within the house. Last night Margaret had been distraught from the funeral and somewhat uneasy about the move. But this morning she was so tender and responsive and it finally felt right, natural. Unfortunately, he was needed at the mill shortly. Margaret deserved better than he could give her right now. She deserved tenderness, romance, and his undivided attention. She deserved to fall asleep in her husband's arms after their first time together secure in the knowledge that he would be there when she woke. Tonight.

When John had finished shaving and re-entered the main chamber from the dressing room, he was surprised to find Margaret awake and dressed in a simple black gown with her hair loosely fastened at her nape. "Shall we go down to breakfast?" She asked, smiling sweetly up at him.

He could not repress a responding smile. "Yes, my love." He held out his hand to her and briefly brought it to his lips before leading her down to the dining parlor hand in hand. Mother was already seated at the table when they entered and looked significantly at the clock to emphasize his tardiness. They said their good mornings and filled their plates. John was still amazed at her presence by his side. He could gladly spend every morning for the rest of his life looking over his tea cup at his wife, enjoying her bashful smiles, admiring the graceful way she spread jam on toast, basking in her presence.

His mother cleared her throat reproachfully and asked after the mill and his plans for the day, drawing him away from his study of Margaret's perfection. "As is to be expected, there is a great deal of work to catch up on. I also have a meeting with Higgins and Lattimer today about the Wentworth projects."

"I should like to be a part of that meeting," Margaret began, then added quietly under Mrs. Thornton's glare, "... if you do not mind."

"Of course, my love, these projects are just as much yours as my own. I value your input." He added with a smirk, "and your intervention with Higgins."

Margaret smiled and would have responded, but Mother cut in with: "I don't understand why you should work with a man who is so unpredictable."

"Actually, Mother, it was my stubborn foolishness that nearly spoiled the deal. Margaret was, thankfully, able to bring me to see reason." He was spared hearing Mother's reaction to this statement by the clock chiming seven. If only he could whisk Margaret away with him, for he did not doubt Mother's opinion would be expressed to her. "I must go." He gave his mother the usual buss on her cheek then moved on to Margaret. His kiss to her cheek lingered and he whispered a quick "I love you" into her ear. Pulling back he said in a normal voice, "shall I see you at four in my office then?" She blushed, gave him a small smile and nodded her assent.

He startled Williams with his exuberant entrance into the offices. His employees were not used to seeing their master happy and it caused quite a stir of gossip among the hands. Although his thoughts were more agreeably engaged when he entered the mill, they were soon turned to the cares and troubles of the mill. He had worked through the dinner hour and was sat with his head bent over the accounts when he heard a knock at his office door. Hope surged in his heart that it was Margaret, come for their meeting, but sank again when a police inspector entered.

"Excuse me, sir. There's a man in the Infirmary who is likely to die soon. He was found unconscious beside the road Saturday last. He has never recovered sufficient consciousness to give any distinct account of his fall, although once or twice he has had glimmerings of sense sufficient to make us send for the nearest magistrate, in hopes that you might be able to take down the dying man's deposition of the cause of his death." The officer informed him and concluded with an expectant look urging John to follow. He sighed, closed the account book and nodded for the inspector to lead, stopping only to inform Williams of his errand.

The hospital, thankfully, was near by. John was surprised when he arrived at the infirmary to find that the dying man was none other than George Leonards. He was rambling about being at sea, and mixing up names of captains and lieutenants in an indistinct manner with those of his fellow porters at the railway; and his last words were a curse on the 'Cornish trick' which had, he said, made him a hundred pounds poorer than he ought to have been. John took down the deposition in trepidation. While the incoherent monologue did not directly reveal Frederick Hale's situation, it was enough to give John pause.

After the man had died, John took the inspector and the surgeon to the side and inquired whether there was any cause to suspect a violent end other than fevered rantings. The doctor informed him that his demise was caused by some internal complaint, and the man's own habit of drinking but it seemed to be exacerbated by some fall or blow. The inspector informed him that there were no witnesses to the fall, but the other porters reported that he had rushed into the station house just after the afternoon train for London had departed the station on Saturday last with some long story or other about a fall he'd had, swearing awfully; and wanted to borrow some money to go to London by the next up-train.

"Is there any evidence to prove whether this fall was a result of violence or an accident?" John asked gravely.

"None sir, other than his own rantings." Answered the surgeon.

John breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, gentlemen, I think it's safe to say there is insufficient evidence to justify an inquest." His decision was agreed upon by the others and he was free to return to his office.

Margaret exited the house at quarter to four, unable to bear her mother-in-law's cold silence, her sister-in-law's idle chatter, or her father's bleak expression any longer. Mrs. Thornton had introduced her to the servants that morning and given her a tour of the house, as was her duty. But it was evident that she was fiercely possessive of her power over the household, the daily routine, and the décor of nearly every room. Although Margaret was now mistress of the house in name, she would not gain that role in deed without a battle with her mother-in-law. She was too exhausted and broken with grief at the moment to even consider such a battle.

She quickly made her way across the courtyard and up to John's office. She gently tapped on the door, hoping her husband would not mind her early arrival. He barked: "Enter!" But when she quietly slipped into the room his stern brow dissolved and he smiled at her. "Margaret!" He quickly rose from his desk and enveloped her in an embrace, Margaret sighed as the cares of the weary day rolled off of her. After a moment, he seemed to stiffen and bade her sit down.

"I have news," he said in a grave voice as he sat in the chair next to her.

Her mind jumped to the worst, "Frederick?" she said in a small, quivering voice, caught in the steely grip of dread.

"No," he replied, "not directly. Leonards is dead. I was called as a magistrate to take his deposition this afternoon. His story was incoherent to everyone else, but as I had some foreknowledge, it seems as if he saw Frederick as the train was passing through the Outwood station and as he ran after the train he fell off the platform. This fall accelerated his death from an existing illness. There will be no inquest."

For a moment Margaret could do nothing but sit dumbstruck. How close Frederick had come to danger! What could have happened if they had departed from the Outwood station instead of the Milton station, or if Leonards had hopped on the train? She shivered at the thought. "Margaret, love, are you alright?"

"I am well," she said softly and shook her head slightly, "It's just … Fred came so close. I am sorry that Leonards died, but I am so relieved that he is no longer a threat to Frederick!"

"I know, I didn't want to distress you but you deserved to know," he said as he gently rubbed her back, "besides, he was engaged to our cook, Betsy, so you would doubtless have heard about his death regardless."

"Oh dear, has she been told?"

"I doubt it, I've only just come back from the hospital."

Margaret's heart broke for the poor girl. He may have been a cad, but no one deserves to loose someone they love. The recent wound of her mother's death re-opened slightly at the thought. "I shall tell her when I return to the house." At John's startled look, she added: "Whatever our thoughts of the man were, she just lost the man she loves. She deserves better than to hear the news from an impersonal doctor or inspector. She is a member of our household, after all."

John lifted her hand to his lips and said reverently, "your purity of heart and compassion never cease to amaze me, my love." Their eyes met and they began to gravitate towards each other, but the spell was broken by a rough knock on the door. Recalled to their surroundings, John quickly moved behind the desk and yelled, "enter!"

Nicholas walked in from the door to the warehouse and gave them a knowing smile. "Maester, Miss. Margaret," he greeted them, touching his cap. "No, yo'r ne'er Mis. Margaret no more, Mrs. Thornton."

Margaret frowned, and at Nicholas's confused look, John responded, "Margaret feels she's being followed by my mother when addressed as Mrs. Thornton, but it would not do for all of the hands to be calling you Margaret."

Margaret smiled at him. "I suppose we have to figure this out eventually. There's always Mrs. John Thornton or Mrs. John." It left a bitter taste in her mouth. She did not like having her identity entirely subsumed by her husband's.

"No," replied John somewhat forcefully. "As we've established, you are not a possession!"

Margaret was both relieved by his assertion and shamed for the horrid things she had accused him of. "Mrs. Margaret then?" Asked Higgins with a smile.

"It is unconventional," replied Margaret.

"As are you," said John with a grin.

"And if anyone is uncomfortable with that, they can just suffer through the whole length of 'Mrs. Margaret Thornton,'" Margaret concluded with a satisfied nod. Mr. Lattimer arrived shortly thereafter and the meeting commenced.

Betsy moved silently through the kitchens about her work. The whole house was in an uproar over the master's new wife and father-in-law moving in. The new mistress seemed quiet and unassuming, her father seemed to wander around aimlessly in his grief, and that Miss. Dixon they brought with them gave herself airs as if she were above them all. Mrs. Thornton seemed to respond to the usurper by tightening the reins even more than her usual dictatorial tendencies. Of course, all of the servants in the house had known that the master would marry Miss. Hale from the day of the riot when she shamelessly threw herself at him in full view of all the world. Betsy didn't know if she could trust a woman who could step so far out of her place and act so brazenly. The main gossip at the moment was the odd secrecy and haste of the wedding. If they'd been engaged since the riot, why didn't they tell anyone? If they hadn't, why marry so quickly? To her mortification, these thoughts were interrupted by the new mistress herself.

"Betsy, would you please follow me into the study?" It was a request, spoken in soft tones with her gentle southern accent. It was a glaring contrast to the harsh commands of Mrs. Thornton. Betsy bobbed a curtsy and followed her with trepidation. Surely such a request could not lead to a scolding, or worse being let go?

"Please sit down," the mistress swept her arm toward the sofa in front of the fire for all the world as if Betsy was a guest and not merely the cook. Betsy sat and the mistress settled beside her.

"Betsy, I understand you're engaged to a young man by the name of George Leonards, is that correct?" Betsy's heart thudded in her chest. Had Sarah and Hannah been spreading their gossip about him? It was only twice that they had seen the bruises but they were determined to dislike George because of them. They never saw how gentle he was most of the time. Then again, Betsy hadn't heard from George in several days, had something happened to him?

"Yes ma'am," she replied meekly, unable to suppress the fear. The mistress's eyes softened to a look of sadness.

"I am so sorry," she began, the pause filling Betsy with dread. "Mr. Thornton was called to the hospital this afternoon as a magistrate to take down his deposition. It seems he had a longstanding internal disease and an excess of drink and a fall on Saturday evening made it worse."

Betsy started up, "I must go to him!" but the mistress put her hand on Betsy's arm and directed her back to the sofa.

"No, Betsy. I am so sorry, but he did not survive. He passed away this afternoon." Betsy began trembling, then sobbing. For some time she was insensible to anything other than her own grief. At length, Betsy became aware that the mistress was holding her as she sobbed. Reminding herself of her station despite her grief, she shifted back and apologized for her breech of decorum.

The mistress merely placed her hand on Betsy's shoulder and said, "a good man recently told me that you should never apologize for your grief." Betsy looked up in astonishment at her employer, taking in the lady's own black mourning attire, her misty, red-rimmed eyes, and the sincere look of worry on her brow. "You should take the rest of the day off, the rest of the week if you like."

"But Mrs. Thornton … I mean … t'other Mrs. Thornton is quick to remind us that there's always more to take our places."

"I shall speak with my mother-in-law. But as I have already spoken with my husband, I can safely say you may take as much time as you need without fear of loosing your position." Betsy could scarcely believe that this young lady, wrapped up in her own grief, was willing to brave the dragon's wrath for her. She already felt a deep sense of loyalty towards the new Mrs. Thornton, no matter what her actions were before her marriage or what level of turmoil the house would face. It was not long after Betsy returned to the kitchen to inform the housekeeper and cook of the strange encounter that news of the new mistress's kindness spread through the whole of the staff.

It was a battle, but Margaret had eventually convinced Dixon to handle dinner for the evening and breakfast in the morning. Having made the transition from ladies maid to maid of all work and back again, Dixon was loathe to return to the household chores she despised now that they were in a grand house with a large staff. But, as none of the other servants had much experience cooking and Dixon was in the proper state of mourning to understand Betsy's grief, she eventually yielded.

It was an even larger battle to convince Mrs. Thornton that allowing Betsy time off to grieve now was not only their moral duty but also the best way to ensure that she wouldn't leave entirely in the long run. Margaret suspected her mother-in-law was more upset about Margaret making decisions about the staff than about giving Betsy the time. Margaret was determined to call on Mary Higgins in the morning to see if she could fill in until Betsy returned in order to keep the peace in the household.

She was drawn out of her rumination on these household concerns by the slight dip in the bed as John joined her. She turned into his warmth and he enfolded her in his arms. "I believe I've become rather spoiled over these past days," he sighed, "I can't even go a full shift without missing my wife."

Margaret laughed, "you didn't even go a full shift without seeing your wife, we had a meeting this afternoon."

"Aye, we'll have to make that a frequent occurrence," he said as he dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

"You have managed to live thirty-one years of your life without me," Margaret said playfully.

"Well, there's a difference between living and living," he replied and kissed her soundly. "You do know, don't you, how much you've changed my life? I've always been driven, dedicated, hard working, – I am my mother's son – but I had no purpose further than success in itself. I've always taken care of Mother and Fanny, but now it's different. I have someone to come home to. A reason to finish my work at work so that I can enjoy the pleasure of your company."

"That's an awful lot of pressure to put on one person," Margaret said timidly, nestling her face into his shoulder. "What if I don't live up to your expectations?"

"Margaret, love, trust me. I know you have your faults, and I'm not putting pressure on you to be or do anything. Did you miss me today?" He asked, with a hint of trepidation in his voice.

"You know I did. I came to your office early because I couldn't bear a longer wait." His face lit up in a boyish smile of delight.

"That is all I ask of you. To allow me to love you, and for your love in return."

She reached up her hand to his cheek, "you have that." He leaned down to kiss her again.

"Now," he said repositioning himself over her, "this morning I believe we left off about here …"