The Lady of Outwood Station
By kommentara
An 'All Hallows' Eve,' Fanfic Story
It was almost midnight on this gloomy October day that Mr John Thornton made his way back to Milton-Northern. He had been attending an important but somewhat draining business meeting with some fellow mill-owners of the neighbouring town this evening, discussing the current development of cotton prices and sharing ideas on how to prevent strikes amongst the mill workers over a sumptuous dinner, and had caught one of the last trains back home.
The night was cold and windy, a precursor of the icy winter to come, and a circumstance which did nothing to improve Mr Thornton's constantly low spirits, since he was obliged to take the tiresome trouble of wrapping himself tightly in his tailored black coat, which was definitely too thin for the season – his mother had been right in her warnings –, as he walked along the platform of Outwood station, where he had presently arrived, with quick, determined strides.
The path being barely visible in the dark, his attention was so much engrossed by each step that lay before him, that he paid the fading grumble of steam engines, the metallic screeching of wheels and the shouts of railway workers preparing for the next train's arrival no mind at all, when suddenly something attracted his interest out of the corner of his eye. Looking out from under his heavy, knitted brows, Mr Thornton beheld a most curious appearance.
In the dim light of the station's one or two scattered lanterns, the figure of a young woman could be discerned, standing on the platform across from his, shrouded in a dark cloak, which was blowing ominously in the piercing wind, a low hood hiding her face in shadow. What startled him about this sight was not so much the fact that it was most unusual for any lady to be out at a train station at this late hour, but that he recognized the woman's proud comportment immediately, without even so much as catching a glimpse of her visage. The very moment she turned around, the faint moonlight illuminating her pale features – her noble brow, her round white neck, the delicate curve of her lips – there could no longer be any doubt: This was Margaret Hale!
Upon surveying the station, her steady gaze met his own, and Mr Thornton observed her eyes widening in shock at the sight of him, just before she cast a quick glance to her side. Only now did he take notice of the second figure on the platform, who had kept to the shadows behind Margaret. It was a rather adventurous looking young man, who was holding her by the elbow in a gesture of perfect intimacy.
As Margaret faced him once more, Mr Thornton would have seen the tinge of regret and the silent pleading in her expression, had he only kept looking one second longer. Alas, he did not. He could not bare this sight, so he had averted his eyes and continued on his way, striding even faster and more forceful than before, with a countenance so grim that any man would have been afraid to greet him, had he happened to cross him in the street.
Whilst he stormed away in this manner, fierce jealousy raged through his veins, boiling in his blood. This was simply too much. Whatever mistakes he might have made in his conduct towards her, however much it was his own fault that he was now heartbroken, having misread her intentions and imagined feelings which did not exist, how could he possibly deserve this? Miss Hale would go for a romantic stroll at midnight with another man, for all the world to see, but not even speak a civil word to him, though it was he who truly loved her? Was this lover of hers, and Mr Thornton had to admit that his rival was a very handsome-looking man – a fact of which he had taken notice even though he might not be the best judge of the appeal of another man's appearance –, was he by any chance the true reason for Margaret's rejection of his proposal?
He came to a halt in the middle of the sleeping street, his heavy breathing transforming into little clouds of haze in the freezing air around him. As his blood slowly cooled, so did his mind, and he saw the matter with a clearance he had not possessed before. What right did he, John Thornton of Marlborough Mill, have to be so distraught and angered about this discovery? Miss Hale had told him quite candidly that she did not love him, did not even like him. What difference did it make that her affections should belong to another? Every difference in the world, thought John bitterly, but nevertheless, he knew that this newly found state of affairs meant that he must abandon any remnant of hope he had nursed in his heart of winning hers eventually and so, although it seemed nearly impossible just then, he determined to try and accept defeat and finally put her, who was so clearly indifferent to his tender affection, out of his mind forever.
"He always wanted to have a bite o' my gooseberry pie! And I, I kept him waiting and waiting, 'cause I thought to reward him wi' it when he'd finally marry me, but now he'll ne'er get to taste it! Oh why did I tease him so!"
"That is rather unfortunate, Jane, to be sure…"
"What is all that noise? Jane, what in God's name are you wailing about?! Fanny, are you encouraging our servants to spend their paid hours complaining about each and every sorrow to their mistress now, as if there was not anything useful to be done?"
Upon entering the drawing room, Mrs Thornton had just discovered her daughter sitting on the little damask sofa, shaking her intricately arranged golden locks in pity at the maid by her side, who was sobbing violently and hiding her red blotched face behind a handkerchief.
"Oh mother, how fortunate you are here at last! Jane has just received the most dreadful news!"
"Jane, what is this about?", demanded Mrs Thornton with her habitual air of entitlement to be informed about everybody's goings-on.
"Well, madam, I – yo see, it's about my man –"
"You remember mother, she got engaged to him only last month," Fanny interrupted, her voice making barely an attempt at a whisper. "This drunken fellow from the south, what was his name? Lennox or something of the like, whom you strongly advised her not to accept, but she wouldn't listen –"
"Yes, I remember perfectly. What is it now about him that disturbs you so, Jane? Has he changed his mind? I told you from the first that he would prove to be a good-for-nothing –" "But no, madam! He's dead! He's dead!", cried Jane.
The effort of speaking aloud those dreadful words seemed have taken the last remainder of poor Jane's strength, whose tear-stained face crumpled in anguish while her trembling body swayed as if in danger of swooning at any moment, a motion which stirred in Fanny a heretofore unknown feeling of obligation to give what comfort she could. Consequently, in a noble act of defiance of any sense of propriety, she resigned to taking her servant's coarse hand into her own delicate fingers and patting it stiffly.
Mrs Thornton, who had been preparing to enter into a lengthy lecture on the requirements for any future suitors who could be deemed acceptable for a young woman of Jane's standing, a subject on which she held a particularly firm opinion that she felt it to be her obligation to share on any occasion of a prospective engagement, seemed for a moment quite taken aback. "I beg your pardon?"
"Yes mother, indeed! They say he was murdered at Outwood station on the night of the 26th, isn't that right, Jane? Didn't he bleed to death after someone or other knocked him down a flight of stairs? How horrid! Only imagine, falling down such a great height! Why, he must've broken every bone in his body!"
Indulging in her morbid fantasies in this manner, Fanny was in too excited a state to take notice of the effect her indelicate words had on poor Jane, who was presently shaken by a new fit of frantic sobbing.
However, even in the face of intelligence of so shocking a nature, Mrs Thornton remained calm and collected.
"Do they know who murdered him? Jane, did the police tell you who it was? Have they caught and arrested the murderer?"
Feeling the full power of her mistress' commanding tone and stern regard directed at her, Jane managed to utter a halfway-coherent answer.
"No madam, only… only they went about th' station and asked th' railway men who seed anything, and they say…"
"Well, do go on! What did they see?"
"Ohhh, please! What did they see, Jane? You must tell us!"
Jane had finally succeeded in draining the previously incessant flow of her tears and was now lowering her voice to a whisper, till it was barely audible.
"They say they seed a ghost."
"Ridiculous!", Mrs Thornton scoffed.
"Yes, they did, too! There was a fine young lady, wi' skin as pale as snow, they say, dressed a' in black like hoo were in mourning, and hoo had a shadow beside her, a man without a face, 'cause nobody could see it, and they were whispering in th' dark, and then this lady made th' shadow… made him push my poor Leonards… and then th' shadow hopped on th' train as it was leaving, and th' lady stood there, waving after him wi' her handkerchief, and then hoo disappeared!" Fanny, who had been listening breathlessly, could not conceal her delight in further discussing the horrific details of this strange tale.
"Did you hear, mother, a pale lady, as white as a ghost! And she was young and beautiful! I'd wager it was a newly-wed bride and he was her dead husband! She conjured him up from the dead to bid him one last farewell, I'm sure she did!", Fanny exclaimed, enraptured by this romantic notion. "How it reminds me of the fair Elizabetta, who haunted the deserted chambers of the Alhambra at night and gave resting travellers a fright! I've always had a wish to see her with my own eyes one day!"
Mrs Thornton, who had already felt her patience being tested while listening to Jane's story, decided that she drew the line at her daughter's excited ramblings about her silly Spanish tales. "What a huge pile of nonsense! Jane, you have my condolences for your loss, although I do not believe it to be a very great one, but I've heard quite as much as I can possibly endure. Your Leonards never looked particularly steady, it is far more likely that he was as drunk as a fiddler and fell down the stairs all by himself."
"But madam –"
"And this bug-a-boo story about a ghost lady is the most preposterous thing I've heard since the hands asked to get paid twenty shillings a week! I will not have you talk about it again in this house!"
Just when she resolved to go about her day's business in her usual manner, however, a kitchen maid entered the drawing-room, asking to speak to Jane, for she had some urgent message to convey which was of the utmost importance in the case of her lover's death. At her mistress' immediate and unrelenting insistence to hear said news, poor Betsy managed to stammer the intelligence, which she had presently received from Mr Jennings, the grocer's shopman, namely, that Miss Margaret Hale had been seen at Outwood station on the night of the 26th, in the company of a young man whom nobody recognized.
Even the unapologetically plain-spoken Mrs Thornton was stunned into silence by the report of such outrageous behaviour. Miss Hale, the impertinent girl who had dared to reject her own son's proposal not long ago, was not only foolish enough to go wandering about deserted places after dark, but she also had the audacity and senselessness of having a lover by her side, and to add insult to injury, had been spotted by a mere grocer's boy. Not to mention the fact that it had occurred at the same time and place as an actual murder.
After a quiet moment of taking in the scandalous information, it was Fanny who ventured to speak aloud what occupied everybody's minds: "So it was Miss Hale who pushed Leonards, then." "It's… it's possible, I reckon, if yo' think on it. Oh, miss, it could ha' been her, that white lady! My poor, poor sweetheart, I know it! It was her who summoned that murderous shadow! It was Miss Hale who killed him!", cried Jane, looking as pale as a ghost herself. "Only think!", exclaimed Fanny "she was with us in this room not three weeks ago! Why, I believe she was lying down on this very sofa when she was unconscious from the blow on her head. How lucky we are to have escaped her wicked ways until now! I have to say, I always thought she had something funny about her, I told you so, mother, as soon as I saw that she did not even think of having a piano in her drawing-room, I said to myself –"
"That is enough!"
Mrs Thornton's face was grave. "Whatever Miss Hale has done, and I will be sure to speak to her about her conduct, I am certain she is no witch, and does not possess the power to command shadows or raise people from the dead! Now, if I hear you speak one more word about it, you will only wish you had ended up like Leonards, as a pile of shattered bones!"
Jane erupted into tears all over again.
But once an idea as intriguing as a murdering ghostly lady at the local train station presents itself, it is sure to capture the interest of the tittle-tattles of the town, who understand the art of reimagining facts to so high a degree as to fabricate the wildest tales and make everybody for miles around believe they had seen it with their own eyes and could attest to it.
Within a few days of the unfortunate incident, the streets buzzed with excited talk about the lady and her shadow on the platform, and it was not long until the first courageous voices declared that they had seen this woman before, in the night of a full moon, when she had passed them in her flowing mourning gown and whispered some devilish words into the obscurity of the shadows. At her command they had seemed to close in around her, shielding her from any curious eye as she continued on her way through the dark night.
Consequently, many an honest working man determined never to set foot on that cursed platform again, lest he should encounter this frightening mourning bride, who was without a doubt waiting for nobody but him, to take revenge on some crime or other he was sure never to have committed and unleash her obedient shadow upon her innocent newfound prey. It was in this atmosphere of ubiquitous anxiousness and terror, when everybody's nerves were already in a flutter at the most insignificant sound and their disquieted minds were craving some new piece of information about the murder, when the affair of Miss Margaret Hale's having been seen at Outwood station on the very night of that Leonards' death was discovered, as well as the rumour that she was now being questioned by the police.
With the irresistible argument of two free pints in the "Goulden Dragon" the inspector working on the case could be persuaded to confirm this report, and after another round loosening his tongue, he appeared rather willing to recount the details of his call on Miss Hale that afternoon. Apparently she had regarded him with an unnerving kind of unblinking stare, so proud and sinister that he could have sworn she would have turned him into a warty toad on the spot, had he dared to ask any more questions. Indeed, he was almost sure she had uttered some kind of incantation under her breath, bewitching him to forget all of his evidence and losing every last bit of his well practised self-assurance. In short, Miss Hale was a sorceress, there was no doubt about it.
The initial shock this intelligence caused was soon overcome by the conviction of having always felt that here was something not quite right about her – had they not seen her many a time roaming the graveyard just outside of Princeton? –, and while some only believed in her involvement in the murder, others were easily convinced of her meddling in witchcraft.
What a perfect scandal it was! How delicious, that Margaret Hale, a parson's daughter, should engage in such unholy activities! But old Mr Hale was not a parson any more, it was common knowledge that he had left the church, for reasons no one had ever fully understood and which he had never cared to explain, but now it seemed obvious indeed, had he not a spawn of the devil for a daughter? How they regretted sending their sons to that wicked man's house! He had in all probability planned on teaching those poor boys all sorts of sacrilege! One would think they should have suspected it, what with the family moving to Milton so suddenly, coming all the way from the south, and everybody knew there was no honest Christian soul to be found in the south!
With these rumours circulating on the busy streets of Milton, everybody who had sent their sincere condolences upon poor Mrs Hale's recent death was now absolutely certain it had been under very mysterious circumstances that she had found her end, quite forgetting her serious illness during the preceding months. Instead of respect and sympathy for the deceased woman's memory, it was her grieving daughter who attracted a crowd of spectators at the funeral, each of whom longed to get a glimpse of Miss Hale in her mourning dress and veil, the garb they imagined her to have been wearing at the train station, only to confirm afterwards that she had looked positively ghostly and agree that they had been wise to keep at a generous distance where her murderous shadows could not have reached them, even if she had been dimwitted enough to have ventured an attack in broad daylight.
Others soon recalled some strange business they had chanced to overhear, about a long-lost brother, who was a wanted criminal, though they could never quite agree on whether he was missing, having perhaps drowned on his flight across the Atlantic, or whether he had already been convicted and hanged, in which case he was sure to be returning from the dead at his fiendish sister's command each night of the full moon.
When such whispered reports travelled along Frances Street and reached Mr Higgins' ears, he was quick to defend Miss Hale's character vigorously, declaring that if there should ever be anything supernatural about her, she could only be an angel, just like his poor Bess used to say, but even the reasoning of this respected union leader, which under normal circumstances was met with widespread agreement, did nothing to persuade the gossiping Miltoners of Margaret's pureness of heart, since they now firmly believed it was as black as night and devoured by heathen witchcraft.
All this time, Mr Thornton had kept to his new resolution, and had thrown himself into his work at the mill with the intention of keeping his mind busy enough to have not a thought to spare on Miss Hale and her lover, and while he was not particularly successful in that respect, still, he managed to stay clear of any of the rumours spreading like wildfire through his mill. Consequently, it was no small surprise to him when his mother joined him in his study one evening and told him what the servants were saying about his beloved Margaret.
"I cannot believe it."
"To be sure, I do not believe Miss Hale to have the power to awake the dead myself, but John, you must admit, when she threw herself between you and those pathetic creatures, I could well believe it was the devil who possessed her –"
"No, mother, you do not understand my meaning. I cannot believe what outlandish stories people's minds will create when they are confronted with a sudden death and receive no explanation. It truly amazes me, this instant turning to the unnatural, and immediate condemning of a family who has shown them nothing but kindness since their arrival in this town. And I cannot believe that you, of all people, would spend a single minute listening to any of it, mother. You know I have always admired your ability to maintain a clear sight, even in the darkest of times, and your power to overcome each and every obstacle, without ever paying mind to what anybody said about us in the streets. That is what has brought us so far, and I thank you for it. But now you hear some servants talk and suddenly decide that everything they say is true, that there are ghosts wandering about at night and that Miss Hale has lost her character? I would not have thought you so easily influenced. Poor Margaret!"
Mrs Thornton, although she did not show it, had felt the truth in her son's accusation and was somewhat ashamed of having been drawn in by the gossip; at his last heartfelt exclamation however, her habitual stoic expression grew annoyed.
"Poor Margaret? John, even if Miss Hale had never uttered a single unchristian word in all her life of lazy amusement and indulgence in the south, you cannot deny that she was at the train station, late at night, with a young man by her side! Poor Margaret, indeed! I should be ashamed to have my daughter conduct herself in so thoughtless a manner, so I cannot say I regret her rejecting you, she spared me the need to think of her as one. It is not the gossips with their ghost stories who are ruining her character, it is her own foolishness, her own and her lover's. What a disgrace she is to her family!"
"It is true", replied her son, who had some difficulty in disguising how much his mother's words pained him, "she was there, I saw her with my own eyes. However, this whole affair is no concern of ours, mother. Miss Hale can do as she pleases without having to answer to us, so I sincerely wish you would stop dwelling on the subject."
"How glad I would be to do just that, and never mention that insufferable woman's name again! But this is a murder investigation, John. Even if I could forgive her for her impropriety, and I cannot say that I am inclined to, and even if I were to believe that all the rumours have no foundation at all, still, her character and her word as a lady are being questioned by the police this very moment! Do not be so foolish as to believe that this affair will have no consequences, especially for a young woman of her situation and upbringing. Miss Hale will have to learn that even her name is not above being dragged through the mud. Let her see who will take her now!"
And with those words, from which she drew not a little satisfaction, Mrs Thornton exited the room.
Mr Thornton was left to his own miserable whirling thoughts. Though he admitted it only unwillingly, his mother was right, Miss Hale found herself in a very difficult situation. Try as he might to ban her from his thoughts, it was impossible now. She may love another, she may scorn him and never want to speak to him again, still, he simply could not find it in his heart to watch silently as her reputation was torn to pieces in the streets and an inquest was impending which would force her to lie publicly.
How distressed she must be at this moment! Whatever it was that she had done, she must have had good reason to deny that she had been at the station and thereby answer falsely to the police. He knew her to be so upright and truthful at heart that she could not under any circumstances have told a lie and taken it lightly, going against her principles merely to avoid any inconvenience the fact of her presence at the station might be to herself. Admittedly, there was an inkling of doubt in Mr Thornton's mind, since he obviously did not know her well enough to have realized where her affections truly lay, but he stifled it quickly.
What could he possibly do? True, in his position as the town's magistrate, a word from him would suffice to end all investigation into the matter. But would this interference actually put an end to Margaret's troubles? At the moment it seemed as though leaving the details of Leonards' death a mystery would only encourage the talking people's suspicions, leading to even more fantastical tales about her supposed devilish arts. Seriously, John mused, how could anyone in their right mind suspect Miss Hale, his lovely, kind-hearted Margaret, of being involved in witchcraft and sorcery?
No, he would not stand for it. He decided to send word to Inspector Mason immediately, so that, at the very least, he could provide Miss Hale with the comfort of knowing that there was no longer any immediate threat of the law. With regard to the rumours however, he was powerless and could do nothing but trust in the fickleness of people's minds and hope that they would soon cease to talk about their made-up ghostly lady.
Margaret took a deep breath. It was going to be alright. At last, she could leave the anxious state in which she had found herself during the last few days. It had been a time of constant worry and sorrow, what with her mother's funeral, her brother's hasty departure and, most disturbing of all, the brawl with this wretched Leonards, which had led to her, pious Miss Hale, being investigated by the police for murder!
How gladly would she have explained how this drunken fellow had tried to seize Frederick and sell him out to the authorities, so that her courageous brother had pushed him in an act of self defence and his attacker had lost his balance and tumbled down the stairs; that it had been an accident which seemed to be of little consequence at the time, and which was brought on by Leonards himself and not at all malicious murder. But oh! how could she, when this confession would by necessity reveal the fact of her brother's presence in England, and thus endanger and send the law after him, before she could be sure he was safely arrived in Spain. And so she had lied to the inspector.
Just now, Inspector Mason had called to inform her that there was to be no further investigation, by orders of Mr Thornton, the town's magistrate.
Margaret could not believe that she should have gotten away with her lie so easily, and that she should have none other than Mr Thornton to thank for it! He had once again proved to be the man with a kind and generous heart she knew him to be since the weeks preceding her mother's death, when he had spared no expense in delivering to the invalid all the exotic fruit she desired. Now Margaret felt herself to be even more indebted to him, considering what he had done for her, a thought which only threw her into deeper despair. How she had wronged him! How could she have rejected the warm and sincere affection of this man, who would even now risk his own reputation to keep her out of trouble, when he knew that she had told a lie? She would not even imagine how low his regard for her must have sunken when he discovered her dishonesty; she simply could not bare the thought.
Humbled as she was in the face of such great kindness, bestowed on one of whom Mr Thornton must have very little opinion, Margaret was relieved nonetheless to be free of the police's suspicions and never thought much about the people in the street who kept their distance and murmured behind her back. Not until the day Mrs Thornton called, that is.
Margaret tried her best to be particularly civil in offering the elder lady tea, since there was always an awkward reserve between them, even more so now that she had rejected her son's proposal. But after the quick exchange of very few common-place civilities, Mrs Thornton promptly began to speak what was on her mind. She was going to perform her duty, just like she promised Margaret's mother before the poor lady died, and warn Miss Hale against such heedless and inappropriate behaviour as walking around at night, only accompanied by a young man. If people were to talk about it, Margaret would soon loose her reputation as a respectable young lady, and the gossip had already reached her own ears soon enough.
Margaret was stunned. Was she really to receive a lesson on polite and ladylike conduct from Mrs Thornton? Was she truly to be exposed to scolding from a person who knew nothing about the real circumstances of her behaviour?
"Now it is perfectly clear, Miss Hale, why you would not take my son when he offered to you. I always thought you simply had too good an opinion of yourself to take him, although you would not deserve him in a hundred years, even if you had money or accomplishments, or sense enough to know what is good for you, which I see you do not. But now I realize that it was your other secret lover –"
"Mrs Thornton! What low esteem you must have for me to speak in such a manner as this! I admit that I have acted wrongly, and Mr Thornton knows it, but what you are implying is nothing more than mere insult!"
"So you deny that you were parading around with this man at the train station, even though you were seen and identified?"
"I refuse to answer your question."
"So I see", said Mrs Thornton, eyeing Miss Hale's hardened expression of injured pride closely. As much as she loathed this foolish young woman for the pain she had inflicted on her beloved son's heart, she could not help admiring her spirit, which she recognized was not unlike her own.
"Miss Hale, there is more you should know. I heard my servants talking –"
"I won't listen to you any longer!", said Margaret, rudely rising from her armchair. "They say you're a witch!"
Margaret, who had been well on her way to leave the room with an elegant sweep of her gown, came to an abrupt halt and turned to look at Mrs Thornton's face. The expression of her sharp features and her piercing eyes was perfectly serious.
"I beg your pardon?"
"The whole town is talking about it. You were seen summoning a demonic shadow and unleashing it unto Leonards, so that it killed him, and bidding your lover goodbye, who they say was returned from the dead."
Margaret was aghast. She could not speak, only look at Mrs Thornton incredulously. "I do not understand", she managed at last.
"You see, Miss Hale, there is more than one way to ruin a lady's reputation. And when people see a young woman such as yourself out after dark, they will talk. When there happens to be a murder said lady could be involved in, but she claims she was not there… well, you should not be surprised if they start to see ghosts."
With these words, Mrs Thornton sat back in her chair and regarded Margaret with a triumphant glance.
"You really should think about your actions more seriously. Only I doubt it will change anything now."
Margaret had not moved an inch since Mrs Thornton's declaration and as she spoke now, a restrained fury was apparent in her voice.
"I cannot but take notice of your satisfaction with these circumstances, madam, and you are right, they are bad. I only wonder at how you are able to tell yourself that you are acting on my mother's behalf, when your object is evidently not to offer your help or comfort, as anyone, and certainly my mother, would have done, but to triumph over my misery. I will not endure your scolding another minute. I must take my leave, good day."
Without another look at the astonished Mrs Thornton, Margaret briskly quit the room.
Margaret could not fathom Mrs Thornton's words, even long after her visitor had left. Could it be true? Was it possible the factory workers and shopkeepers shunned her in the street, not because they thought her airs superior or even, God forbid, her demeanour unmaidenly, but that she was practised some kind of black magic? Had that one miserable night ruined her reputation forever? But how on earth could they be so simple-minded? She had begun to appreciate the people of the north, had admired their drive and dedication to hard work, but surely, no southerner would ever have believed such a wild tale as this!
As she sat there, contemplating, she heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs, accompanied by exhausted breathing, and soon enough, Dixon burst unceremoniously through the door into the drawing room.
"Miss! You won't believe what I've just heard, miss! I was just getting some flour and eggs down at the grocers' for, you know, I thought to prepare some coconut cake for master and miss, to cheer you up a bit after these hard times, for God knows what you've had to endure, miss! And as I was walking in, the other folk was looking at me funnily, but I thought nothing of it, fair enough, I thought, it is not everybody who can claim to belong to a family so respectable as this, and they ought to be looking if they know what gentility is! But as I asked to get my basket filled up, they gathered round and started going on about Leonards, that horrid man, and whether I had knowed him, and I told them what I knew alright, that he was a good-for-nothing scoundrel all his life, always up to some scheme or other, even though I'd much rather kept quiet and never spoken his name again, but as you know miss, one doesn't like to be uncivil, but then they started asking questions about yourself, miss, if I had noticed anything queer about the house and its master and mistress, and when I demanded to know what those nitwits were talking about, sure enough, they told me that you, miss, had been wandering around at night as if you were a ghost, and bewitched the shadows to murder everybody who crossed your path and dared to look you in the eye, just like the poor Leonards!"
"And what did you answer them, Dixon?", asked Margaret, trying her best to conceal how deeply this rambling report affected and grieved her.
"Why, that they could all go and boil their half-witted heads if they believed such utter nonsense as this for a minute! I've lived with your family for almost thirty years now, and I told them there never was a more gentle and honest soul than yourself, miss, and nobody more well respected than your father, even though he did leave the church without thinking of his wife, poor missus, and dragged us all up to this abominable place, where his family is exposed to such vicious gossip! What a disgrace indeed, to hear folk talking about poor Miss Beresford's daughter in this way! Well, that's what I told them, miss. And if they ever had anything more to say about your witchcraft, why, I would show them some tricks myself!"
Margaret smiled through the tears that had welled up in her eyes.
"Thank you, Dixon! I wonder how we deserve such loyalty as this!"
At the tremor in her voice, Dixon finally noticed her mistress' growing distress and sorrow and did not hesitate for a heartbeat to enclose her in a tight embrace, pressing the air from Margaret's lungs and wiping away her tears with her own neatly ironed sleeves.
"Oh, dear miss, never you mind the gossip! Never you mind!"
When Margaret had collected herself, she said: "I simply would not have thought the people here still believed in ghost stories, that is all."
"But I do believe in ghosts myself, miss, I'm not ashamed to admit it! Only I know you're not one of them. Walking about at midnight, indeed! I'd like to know where they could find anybody sleeping so soundly as you do, miss! I remember, ever since I held you in my arms when you were a newborn little darling…"
Dixon's fervent speech to the gossips swiftly made the rounds, as well as the fact that Mr Thornton and the police had cleared Miss Hale of all charges and suspicions. Alas, superstitions once aroused are not so soon forgotten as anyone who has been the subject of such whisperings might well wish.
In fact, the initial turmoil had not yet completely subsided, when the untimely death of Mrs Hale excited a new wave of speculations as to its precise circumstances. Where normally, a recently orphaned young lady would have been met with compassion and goodwill, Miss Margaret Hale received nothing more than wary looks. People had begun to fear the mere sight of her approaching on the street and few were sorry when at length she left the town for London.
Yet even her absence had a strong hold on people's imagination, the alarming reports having left a lasting impression on their mind, so that when Marlborough Mill's lack of success obliged Mr Thornton to give up business, his servants would rather believe it to be cursed by that wretched lady, who had once walked about the rooms just like a queen, giving herself airs, and had caused the master nothing but trouble ever since, than considering any fault in judgement Mr Thornton might have made.
Eventually, to the great astonishment of all those who had believed her to be gone for good, Miss Hale returned to Milton, and as she established herself as the new Mrs John Thornton, a respectable mill-owner's wife, who would do anything in her power to keep the poor families from starving and encouraged the frequent communication between her husband and his workers in order for them to find common ground and a solution to any arising problem, nobody dared speak a word against her; and gradually, when every last living soul in town knew her to be the kind-hearted mistress who had brought their interests to the masters' attention, people quite forgot it was her name that had been connected to the frightful tale they told their children and grandchildren, about that strange business many years long gone, when one dreary October night a grieving ghostly lady had sent out her haunting shadows to murder a man at Outwood station.
