The night of the accursed dinner came at last, and when the first guests arrived Louis barked frantically and whined at Margaret's heels. He had taken to Margaret the most, and when he was not being adored and drooled over by Owen in the nursery, was with her.
"Ma'am, let me take him away," Dixon appeared at her shoulder, flustered and wearing a teacloth, "come here, you silly dog. Dixon's got your bone."
Margaret barely heard her, but she patted Louis reassuringly and let him be led away. The man at the door was the visiting Master from Leeds, dressed smartly in a dinner jacket and shoes lacquered to a mirror shine. There was a kind smile on his slightly lined face, and he had arranged his mustache in a particularly fussy fashion. Margaret had never seen him do this, and took great pleasure in its appearance. It seemed the woman were not the only ones fussing over their appearance that night.
Along with him, came two lately added visitors; a magistrate from Shropshire on his way to Scotland, and a professor from Cambridge studying the industrial revolution, as he puts it, in Milton. His wide would have been in attendance, he explained, he she had taken ill and did not like to travel. To have these visitors tickled Margaret pink, and though space accommodations had to be made, and the extensions to the table installed, she felt no resentment. The magistrate was clothed similarly to the Master, and the professor wore his best, if not slightly worn down suit jacket and bowler.
"Welcome, please come in," Margaret beamed, "my husband will be down shortly. Cigars?"
The lawyer and the magistrate took the proffered Cubans, and Margaret ushered them into the parlor where she instructed Mary to serve them drinks and small aperitifs. Tonight Mary had a new dress as well, and her long, dark hair was set in a smart bun. Her clumsiness was receding and was now trusted around the guests.
The professor made polite, witty conversation for a minute and there was another knock on the door. After ushering the Hamper's in, and offering Mr. Hamper a cigar and Mrs. Hamper a raspberry cordial, she excused herself and flitted upstairs where John was almost ready. She found him tucking in his dinner shirt. He was late due to a small matter at the mill, and was rushing to prepare himself.
"You look wonderful," Margaret said, adjusting his neck tie and giving him a kiss. "Some guests are here already. You're needed."
John gave her a look and said, as if he didn't care about their visitors a floor below,
"Aye Missus, but you haven't given me a chance to compliment you yet."
"You can do that when this is over!" Margaret giggled, swerving away for a cheeky kiss. "Now come, we need to meet everyone. Mary can't serve starters forever!"
"I agree," John took her by the elbow and they descended to the parlor where the Slicksons and Fanny san husband but plus son, has also arrived.
"So nice to see you!" Fanny grinned, kissing Margaret's cheek, "are the children up? Ohh I want to see my little nephews!"
"Upstairs," Margaret replied, "you can go to the nursery if you wish. Owen will be up, but I don't know about Richard. Would you like to see your cousin dear?" Margaret knelt down in front of Samuel, ruffling his fine blond hair.
"Yes Aunty Margaret," he nodded.
"Well then, I'll take him up and be right back!" Fanny smiled, "Don't start anything without me!"
With Fanny's departure, Margaret turned to Mrs. Slickson and curtsied.
"Welcome," she said, "I do hope you will enjoy yourself tonight."
"I hope so too," Mrs. Slickson sniffed, "though I doubt anyone could outdo Mrs. Thornton. I see you wear her jewelry now. That's…nice." The other woman's tone was cold, and made it clear that the presence of Hannah's things on Margaret were most unwelcome.
"Well I am Mrs. Thornton now," Margaret shrugged, attempting to be gracious, "and she left me several things before she passed, God rest her soul."
"Yes, I'm sure she did," Mrs. Slickson turned up her nose and looked about. "It was nice talking to you Margaret." She curtsied and went to her gaggled, who stood sipping cordial in the corner of the parlor, gossiping and ignoring the men.
With a sigh, Margaret smoothed her skirts, and after going to see Dixon about the state of dinner and the cook, settled herself into her hostess role, floating about the room, ensuring everyone's happiness.
Finally, at a quarter to eight she announced dinner, and everyone filed into the dining room.
"What lovely settings," Mrs. Dickson said when they were all seated, "why Margaret wherever did you get the idea?"
"There was a catalogue I picked up from the drapers," Margaret smiled, feeling more comfortable now as she had John beside her.
"Lovely, you must let me see it," Mrs. Dickson replied in a kindly voice. She was the oldest of the women, and held about her the air of experience, but not intimidation.
The first course was served, and the men took up talk about the mill and the women turned to each other to discuss children.
The fruit course came and the conversation buzzed about the table. John spoke stock prices and Mrs. Hamper fretted over the state of the family coach.
The dessert course came and Margaret, beginning to feel quite tired from the effort of speech and wine, listened politely to Fanny, who was now talking about her second pregnancy, her glass of sherry conspicuously only half empty. The magistrate was arguing law with the academic, and John excused them with a wink to Margaret.
"Now, now, Mr. Reed, Fenwick, let us not bore these lovely women with our dull talk. Come to the den and we will have some scotch and cards."
At that, the men rose, and the women retired to the parlor where Margaret arranged for tea. Just as she was coming back however, she heard the women, perched around the coffee table, gossiping.
"Did you hear about Miss Lattima then?" Mrs. Slickson asked, glancing around the table, "well she did quite well for herself, didn't she? Yes, she married an MP from London, and has her life all stitched up on Harley Street. I asked her if she'd met the queen, but she wouldn't say. Beautiful quiet Anne." Quietly, Margaret settled beside Mrs. Dickson, and listened. The other women barely seemed to notice her. Whereas during dinner they were sure to coo and exclaim over the beautiful food or settings, now they were absorbed in their own conversation.
"A good lady," Mrs. Dickson dabbed her lips with a rose-bordered handkerchief, "she went away to the Continent to be finished, but when she came back all the men were married or engaged. And then when she thought she found a man, whoop! He was dragged away."
"She is lovely," Mrs. Hamper nodded sympathetically, "why any man would turn from her I cannot fathom. In my opinion they must have been bewitched by the devil himself, she is such an angel."
"Which men were these, pray?" Margaret asked levelly, her anger growing with each syllable.
"Oh, I can't remember," lied Mrs. Hamper, a sly grin on her face, "I believe it was your husband, actually. And after him young Gregory Alstonson, the doctor from Hampshire. Quite distasteful." She cast an appraising glance over her fellows, and found that most of them, save Margaret, were nodding, eyes either on their young hostess or at their napkins.
"I thought you would have known," piped up Mrs. Slickson, "you were, after all still speaking with Mr. Bell at the time. That, or your husband would have told you."
"What he has told me," Margaret squared her jaw, "was that at the possibility of financial distress Miss Lattima balked and ran away to London for someone richer. As you always say, things always look bleaker in the North."
"That's a lie," Mrs. Slickson narrowed her eyes, "Miss Lattima is my niece, and she was more than a little in love with your husband. She was sure they were to be married—he implied it. Anne never cared for money, that innocent girl, and would have had him if not for the scandal."
"Is that what my marriage is to you?" Margaret balled her fist in her lap, "a mere scandal?"
"You took him away from Anne. She would have been better for him and you know it."
"How would she have been better?" Margaret's voice rose and Fanny patted her hand, fire in her eyes. Her sister-in-law had begun to fidget, and knew that she would not be able to contain herself much longer. The hand was as much for calming Margaret as her own temper.
"Well for one, his sons would be healthy."
"Owen is fine…" Margaret frowned, "and Richard is just a baby. He was born early, that is true, but as for health he is as strong as any boy his age."
"Yes, that is why we have not seen him," Mrs. Slickson continued bullheaded.
"I will not bring him down to you, if that's what you're asking," Margaret crossed her arms.
"Richard is perfectly healthy," Fanny chimed in, "he's a rather sweet boy, you know. Has all John's features."
"At least there is that," Mrs. Slickson replied in a sour voice. There was a collective gasp around the room and Mrs. Dickson huffed.
"Now Claire," she warned, "Mrs. Thornton has been kind enough to invite us to her home and give us a nice meal than we have had in our lives. She even put up with you," Mrs. Dickson gave the other woman a pointed glare, "so please, if it suits you, be civil. Margaret dear, I so apologize for Claire, she is an acquired taste."
Margaret smiled slightly at this kind attempt to settle the tension, and Mrs. Hamper cleared her throat.
"You heard about my nephew Victor?"
"The missionary?" Margaret asked, sure she had heard the name before.
"Yes! The very same," Mrs. Hamper seemed to fluff her feathers, "I am pleased you remember. Well he went to…" and so the night went until everyone decided it was late enough, and people started filing out.
Fanny was last, and she kissed her sleeping son in the nursery before closing the door.
"Are you sure he can stay here?" Fanny asked, a certain anxiety about her. "He's never been away from home before, and I worry."
"He will be safe," John kissed her cheek, "You can stay here if it bothers you."
"No, no!" Fanny shook her glossy head, "It will be good for him, dear Husband thinks I baby him."
"Gracious, he's only three!" Margaret whispered. "Ok well then, see you in the morning, Fanny."
"You too Margaret, John," she kissed Margaret and hugged her brother, and left. The whole house seemed to relax, and Margaret surprised John by taking him by the collar and kissing him hard.
"Whoa," John looked down, "what was that for?"
"You're mine," she grinned, "I just needed to remember that."
"And you are mine," John leaned down and kissed her back. "You are mine."
"Still… Miss Lattima was beautiful," Margaret mused, watching his face closely. There was a brief shadow of sadness, then he returned her look with a passionate one of his own.
"Not so as you, my Love."
"I love you John." Margaret kissed him again.
"And I you," John replied in a whisper, taking her hand. "Now, let's get to bed. That scotch was terrible."
AN: Ok so I know the delay was horrible, but school is tough. I may not be able to write for some time now, but reviews and other comments are still most appreciated and motivate me to get off my butt and write. (Or rather, get onto my butt and write!) Hope you guys like this, cheers! R&R for more
