All of your comments on the last chapter were so sweet, that I'm pretty positive they gave me diabetes! I truly am beyond happy you are enjoying this :)

Also, thanks a lot for all the good wishes concerning my health. I'm feeling much better already.

Chapter 16

"I was wrong about Thornton, ye know", Nicholas said, while sitting at his kitchen table with little Tommy, eating meat stew.

Margaret looked up at the mention of the master's name. She had dropped by for a visit, as she did often, to bring a new book for Tommy and some treats for the other children, who were still out with Mary.

"How so?", she asked, trying to hide her curiosity as best as she could.

"Well, he's got a hard shell", Nicholas pondered. "That's a necessity, I reckon, when ye run an enterprise such as Marlborough Mills. But if ye look beyond that, 'e is in fact quite a decent man. Does have a kindness about 'im, I think. He just hides it well most of the time."

Margaret did not take her eyes off Higgins, her heart beating slightly faster at his words. "What made you change your mind about him?", she inquired.

"Well, d'ye know that 'e was offered to take part in a speculation? A money scheme that could win 'im a fortune if it goes well."

"...But he refused to take part in it. I heard 'im speak of it with this Latimer fellow the other week. Said that he would not risk losing money because his workers' livelihoods depend on 'im. Never heard a master speak like that, refusing the chance to become rich, so as to not risk the payroll."

Margaret could not help a small smile from forming on her lips. "That is quite admirable indeed", she confessed.

"Aye, especially when ye consider that 'e really needs money right now. Things aren't looking too good for the mill from what I can tell."

Margaret's brow furrowed slightly. "Is it really so bad, Nicholas?"

"Quite", he nodded, taking a bite of his bread. "The strike, ye know, threw 'im back with the orders and there's no way we can make up for that in due time."

"Still?", she asked in shock. "But the strike ended months ago!"

"I'm afraid these things have quite an impact. The other mills are a bit better off from what I've 'eard, because Thornton had invested a great sum into new boilers and machinery right before the strike, and there's a bank loan that needs to be repaid."

"That's horrible! But will he be able to keep the mill running?"

"Nobody can tell", Nicholas said, stirring his stew with his spoon.

"All I can say is that the man works 'imself to death. Puts in more hours than any of us, sometimes I don't think he sleeps. He's in 'is office when we arrive and stays there for what seems like hours after we leave in the evening. I've never seen 'im eat anything. He's too busy even for that."

Margaret felt a pang of concern at this piece of information. She had not seen Mr. Thornton since the day she had met him in Princeton a few weeks ago.

He did not come to his lessons with her father anymore, having sent a note, apologizing for his absence, explaining that he was very busy at the mill and could not make time for reading at the moment.

She could not bear the thought of him working so much. What if he exhausted himself enough to get sick? Winter was coming and one had to keep strong, especially during those cold months.

Nicholas was speaking again and she quickly focussed her attention on what he was saying.

"He has taken an interest in young Tommy here, ye know? Says he's got to have a good education. And we are working on a scheme for a canteen for the workers now."

"A canteen?", Margaret asked, puzzled.

"Aye, he noticed that Tommy does not have a proper supper every day and I told him that it's 'ard to get good meat from the butcher sometimes, so he came up with the idea to buy food wholesale. It would be cheaper that way. We are working on setting up a worker's canteen at the mill, so everyone can afford a good meal a day."

She stared at him, at a loss for words.

Even though she had known for a long time now, that Mr. Thornton was a good man, this was more than she would have ever expected from him and, if it was even possible, she felt her heart warm to him even more than it already had.

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A few days later, Margaret was sitting in the Latimer's drawing-room, drinking tea with Ann, whom she had promised to visit for a while.

The young woman was chatting away cheerfully about this and that. When she was like this, she often reminded Margaret of her own cousin Edith.

Ann was good-natured and always seemed happy and excited about everything, but she was also a bit naïve. She had grown up sheltered in a wealthy family where her father would anticipate her every wish.

Margaret was sure that Ann – just like Edith – had never been to places like Princeton in her life. Her biggest worries were the question of which dress would be most suitable for the next social gathering and where to get the sheet music for the piano concert she had recently attended, for she would love to perform it herself.

Nevertheless, Margaret found that she could not dislike Ann. The girl did have her heart in the right place and would not hurt a fly. All she wanted was to see everybody around her happy.

After Mrs. Hale's death, Ann had written a beautiful letter to Margaret, sending her heartfelt condolences and telling her that if she ever needed anything, she was always welcome to the Latimer's home. So, Margaret had decided to pay them a visit and catch up with the young woman.

They had been talking for a while, when the door opened and an older woman walked in. She wore a very elegant bright purple dress and pearls, and even though her hair was greying, her bright smile gave her an air of youthfulness.

"You must be Miss Hale", she greeted the younger woman. "Ann has told me so much about you. I am Mrs. Eldon, Mrs. Latimer's sister."

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance", Margaret smiled politely as the older woman took a seat in one of the chairs.

"Do not let me disrupt your conversation. You know, Ann, I am always looking forward to some company. Maybe I will just join in whenever I have something pleasant to say."

Mrs. Eldon turned out to be just as friendly as her first impression had indicated, and Margaret warmed to her almost instantly.

The woman had lived with the Latimers for almost three years now, since her own husband had passed away, but had recently been in London for some months, where she had stayed with a friend's family. She had returned home only recently, and thus, Margaret had not met her before.

It turned out that Mrs. Eldon knew quite a lot about Milton society, and even though Margaret was not much interested in idle gossip, some of the stories the woman told them were quite interesting, especially when the conversation turned towards Marlborough Mills at one point.

"It must have been the biggest success story of all time here in Milton", Mrs. Eldon mused with a smile.

"Now Hamper and Slickson inherited their mills from their fathers. They have been in the family for three generations now..."

"Watson did not inherit his, he came to Milton about fifteen years ago and bought it from Linwood. But Watson had always been wealthy enough, it was not much of an effort for him to obtain his enterprise..."

"He does not know much about the manufacturing process. I don't think he is even remotely interested in cotton. He is only here because he knows that he can increase his fortune, so he has all his work done by his consultants. But he would not know one end of a loom from another."

"…Now Thornton on the other hand", Mrs. Eldon smiled with an almost dreamy look on her face.

"He is cut from an altogether different cloth. Nobody really knows where he came from, but he started out with not much and worked his way up with his own hands..."

"I remember the first time I met him, he was working as a draper's assistant in Lever Street. He must have been about nineteen or twenty years of age then, but very well-versed, I daresay. You could tell he knew all the particulars when it came to different textiles. He once gave me a lecture on weaving patterns", she laughed.

"I can't say that I understood a word he said, I was too busy appreciating his fine face. It's really a pity I'm not thirty years younger", she sighed. Margaret heard Ann giggle and stifled a smile herself.

Mrs. Eldon's face turned serious once more. "But he always had this haunted look about his face", she wondered.

"And this grave air, as if something bad had happened to him. I feel like he has gotten better at hiding it over the years, but if you look closely enough, it's still there sometimes."

"But what could have happened?", Ann chimed in, eager to speculate.

Margaret did not say anything. She had no interest in joining in a guessing game at the expense of Mr. Thornton. Whatever it was that had put that look in his eyes, it surely was nothing to be made sport of.

"I suppose we will never find out, my dear Ann", Mrs. Eldon replied. "For he is a rather secretive man. He keeps to himself, as you well know, and I doubt that there is a single person out there whom he speaks to about his personal matters. He does not seem the type."

"But aunt Eldon, that sounds dreadful!", Ann exclaimed. "Just imagine not having anyone to share your sorrows with. How could he bear it? I think I would just explode."

"Well, it certainly makes him more interesting", Mrs. Eldon mused.

"I'm sure more than one young woman in Milton has wondered whether she could find the key to his heart and unlock his secrets. But I do not see that happening anytime soon, as I have never seen him show even the remotest interest in any woman."

Ann threw a knowing glance at Margaret, who felt herself blush and quickly averted her gaze, desperately grasping for something to say.

"He is probably just too busy with the mill to think of such things", she blurted out.

"That might well be true", Mrs. Eldon agreed. "And I don't think it is our place to judge him, for I'm sure we can all agree that, even though he is unforthcoming, he is certainly a man of principles."

Later, as Margaret walked home, she tried to picture a younger Mr. Thornton who was not yet master of Marlborough Mills and found it hard to imagine.

Then, she recalled the day of her mother's funeral, when she had seen him walking down from his family's gravesite, thinking himself unobserved and unconsciously mussing his hair, and Margaret thought that this moment had likely been the closest she had ever seen him to what Mrs. Eldon had described.

How she longed sometimes to uncover the man behind the master - the man who had proposed to her that day, months ago, who had, at one time, had feelings for her and whom she had now lost forever.

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It was a sunny day at the end of October, and even though the few trees one could find in Milton had changed their colours, the air still felt unexpectedly warm as Margaret walked through the green gates of Marlborough Mills, holding her usual basket.

Nicholas had told her that, since Mary was working at the new canteen now, she brought the children with her during the day, and Margaret had spontaneously decided to pay them a visit.

She had not wanted to admit to herself that she did have an ulterior motive in coming here, for maybe she would be able to catch a glimpse of Mr. Thornton while she was there.

As she let her eyes roam about the mill yard, which was bustling with activity, she realized that the last time she had been here, had been the day of the riot.

She looked over to the mill house and for a moment her gaze lingered on the wooden landing, where she had stood before the angry mob on that day, and where Mr. Thornton had taken a stone to the head.

Margaret quickly tore her eyes away, trying not to think of that dreadful day and everything that had happened after.

She saw some men unloading raw cotton bales from a cart, others were busy transporting what looked like machine parts, and some young women were sitting outside in the sun, enjoying a short lunch break.

Margaret had no idea where she could find Nicholas or the children, so she just walked further into the yard, looking around. Then she turned the corner of one of the carts and stopped dead in her tracks, when the backside of the factory building came into view.

She stood there, gaping at the scene in front of her.

Little Tommy Boucher was sitting up on the wooden landing, his legs dangling. Next to him was four-year-old Suzie Boucher, laughing heartily at something and clapping her hands in delight, and in front of the children, crouching down, so he was on eye level with them, was none other than Mr. Thornton.

Margaret could not see his face, as he was turned away from her, but she noticed that he had doffed his coat.

The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows, leaving his forearms bare. Margaret felt her face grow warm at the thought of never having seen him in such a state of undress before.

She had seen him once without his coat, on the night they had met at the graveyard, in the rain, but his bare skin had not been exposed in such a way then.

He seemed to be doing something with his hands, making the two children laugh, and as Margaret quietly stepped closer, she realized that he was making animal shapes, twisting his fingers into a barking dog and a hopping bunny.

Suzie tried to mimic his movements with a look of concentration on her face. Margaret stepped closer still, unable to tear her eyes away.

"Here, let me show you", she heard Mr. Thornton say in a gentle voice she had never heard from him before.

He reached out towards the girl and took her hands in his, carefully, almost as if afraid of breaking something. He moved her tiny fingers and showed her how to hold them, and Suzie rewarded him with a huge, happy smile.

'He has a natural way with children' Margaret wondered. She had not expected this at all, and it threw her off balance quite a bit.

'He would make a wonderful father'.

Just then, Suzie spotted her, as she looked over Mr. Thornton's shoulder. "Miss Margaret!", she cheered. Thornton turned his head, and as his eyes met hers, he quickly rose to his feet, letting go of the girl's hands.

"Miss Hale", he greeted her in surprise, looking slightly self-conscious, as if she had caught him doing something he did not want her to see, but Margaret could only smile at him in wonder.

"Mr. Thornton, I see you have met the children. I was just dropping by to say hello to them, knowing they are at the mill today, and I'm happy to find them enjoying themselves." She looked up into his face, noticing how tired he looked.

"How are you, Mr. Thornton?", she asked. He shrugged his shoulders a little.

"As well as can be expected. We have got a lot of work to do. I hope you are well, Miss Hale? And your father? I miss coming to read with him, but I cannot seem to find the time as of late."

"Father is well", she told him. "He is a bit downcast at times, I'm afraid. He misses my mother very much. And he also misses his lessons with you. Once things have settled down a bit, we would be very happy to welcome you at Crampton any time."

"I thank you", he said softly.

Her gaze unconsciously dropped from his face and it was then that she noticed something.

There, on the inside of his left forearm, now bare in front of her, was something that looked like a scar.

It started about four inches above his wrist and went up from there, disappearing under his sleeve at the crook of his arm. However, it did not look like a cut. The skin looked discoloured and slightly raised and wrinkled…like a burn scar.

His gaze followed hers and he hastily drew back his arm, hiding it behind his back.

Her eyes shot up to his face to find a look of mortification on it. He did not meet her gaze, as his right hand grabbed his left sleeve and rapidly started pulling it down. Margaret immediately felt a pang of guilt at having stared at him like that.

"I – I heard about the canteen from Nicholas", she tried to cover up both their embarrassment by changing the subject. "I think it a wonderful idea."

"Thank you", he muttered, still not looking at her.

"I will – I will just leave some apples here for the children and a new book for Tommy." She took the fruit out of her basket and placed it on the landing next to the children, who were watching them in silence. Then she handed a small book to Tommy, who thanked her with a wide, gap-toothed smile.

"I do not wish to detain you. It was a pleasure to see you, Mr. Thornton. Please, do not work too hard, for you look rather tired."

He finally raised his eyes at the concern in her voice and caught her worried look. "Please-" she added quietly, fighting the urge to reach out her hand to him, "do take care of yourself."

With that, she turned around and quickly strode across the mill yard toward the green gates.

He looked after her, his emotions a mixture of utter embarrassment at what she had seen and wonder at her concern for him. This woman, he knew, would never cease to throw him completely off balance.

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NOTES:

Yes, I introduced another new character in this chapter. Yes, I did so for a reason.

Just like with the old woman in the last chapter - they will all serve a purpose at some point in the story.

Oh, and do buckle up: We're going for a ride in the next few chapters ;)