In Consequence
It was early in the morning of the next day, when a coach halted in front of the Hale's home in Crampton, and a tall, white-haired gentleman stepped down onto the sidewalk.
He was elegantly attired, and gave off an air of confidence, as his eyes roamed swiftly over the row of brick houses in front of him, before determinedly striding up the steps to the Hale's front door. His expression was rather serious, as though he was pondering something unpleasant.
Adam Bell was not a man who easily recommended himself to others. He had a slightly wicked sense of humour, that few people fully understood, and therefore was in the habit of causing offence quite regularly.
However, he was an honest man and a loyal companion, and as such, he considered it his duty to call on one of his oldest friends, Richard Hale, this morning, to inform him of a matter which, Bell knew, would be of great importance to the Hale family.
He was greeted at the door by their loyal housemaid, Miss Dixon, who bade him sit down in Mr Hales's study, before she went to summon her master.
"Bell!", Richard Hale exclaimed joyfully, reaching out both of his hands to greet the other. "I had not expected your visit. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this morning?"
Bell shot him a grave look and motioned for him to sit down. "I am afraid I have come to deliver some news, which you might find a bit unsettling", he started, placing his top hat on the table in front of him.
"It appears that there is a rumour spreading quickly throughout all of Milton. A rumour which, I fear, concerns your daughter Margaret." Mr Hale raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Margaret? A rumour? I can't imagine what you could be speaking of." Bell nodded silently, weighing his words for a moment.
"I don't know if it has come to your attention, that there was a riot yesterday, at Marlborough Mills?" Mr Hale confessed that it had not.
"It seems that Thornton had imported workers from Ireland to restart production, and the strikers did not take his scheme too kindly. They broke down the mill gates yesterday afternoon, and attacked him."
Mr Hale looked quite stunned at this news. "That is terrible, indeed! I hope no one was injured! But what could this have to do with my Margaret?"
"You see", Bell started with a sigh, "when Thornton was standing on the front porch of his home, trying to calm down the rioters, a young woman came running out of the house and threw herself at him, and clung to him, trying to protect him. She was hit in the head with a stone when the men attacked, and collapsed, and Thornton carried her back into the house."
Shocked, Mr Hale stared at his friend, who continued: "It turns out that the young woman was recognized by some of the men there, as your daughter, Richard. They were quite certain of her identity, and I fear that the news is spreading throughout town like a wildfire."
"Dear God!", Hale uttered in horror.
"Margaret did go to Marlborough Mills yesterday. She intended to see Mrs Thornton, to inquire about a water mattress, the young Miss Thornton had mentioned to her. We were thinking of borrowing it for my dear Maria, who has been in such low spirits as of late. Margaret returned in the late afternoon, but made no mention of such events! You say she was hurt?" Hale seemed outright horrified.
"Are you quite certain that there has not been some mistake? That it was indeed Margaret?" "It has been confirmed by various men there, as well as Thornton's housemaid", Bell replied.
Mr Hale buried his face in his hands in despair. His daughter had been hurt and had not mentioned it to him, and – much worse – if this rumour was spreading, as Bell had told him, if all of Milton knew that she had been there with John Thornton, and had flung herself at him – the consequences would be severe.
Margaret's reputation would be ruined and their whole family would be shunned by society for such an act.
"I need to talk to Margaret", he muttered weakly, raising himself up from his chair a bit shakily. "I thank you, Bell, for telling me all of this."
He walked over to the door, before turning and looking back at his friend in dismay. "If this is indeed all true – what are we to do?"
Bell stood and reached for his hat. "I'm afraid, Hale, there is only one thing that can be done in such a case, and I think you are aware of what it is."
Mr Hale nodded to himself, nervously. "Yes, indeed. There is no way around it. But Margaret will not take kindly to it. I don't know what possessed her to do what she seems to have done, but I am certain that she does not like John."
"I am sorry to hear that", the other man stated calmly. "But there has been many a marriage of convenience, which turned out a good match. She may not be pleased now, but one can always hope that, with time, she will find it in herself to develop at least some regard for him. He is a decent man."
"He is", Mr Hale murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.
"But Bell, how can I allow this? Margaret is my only child, and her happiness has always been my greatest aspiration. How can I force her into a loveless marriage?"
"I beg you to consider the alternative", Bell pointed out.
"I'm sorry, Richard", he then sighed, stepping out of his friend's study, to make his way to the front door. "This is a task I do not envy you. But even if Margaret will dread this at first, she will have to admit, that it is her only option in this case."
With that, Bell said his goodbyes, tipped his hat at Dixon, who had come up from the kitchen to open the door for him, and walked out onto the street, leaving Mr Hale standing there, dumbfounded and shaken to the core.
"Father, you cannot mean it!"
She stared up at him with wide eyes, her mouth open, her lips quivering. "You cannot!", she whispered in despair.
This was all a nightmare. It could not be real. If the day before had been a bad day, it was nothing in comparison to this.
Not ten minutes ago, her father had asked her to join him in his study and had inquired about all that had happened at Marlborough Mills.
Margaret had not planned on telling her parents any of it, but it seemed that this secret had not been hers to keep. She had been shocked to find, that not only did her father know about it, but that it was very likely that, at this point, all of Milton did.
Her careless action, in the spur of the moment, was now something she was forced to regret deeply.
She had acted on instinct, without giving it a second thought. She had been the one who had told Mr Thornton to go down and face these men, without considering the consequences, and when she had realized what she had done, she had rushed down to make amends and try to contain the damage she had caused.
She would have done the same for any man, but it had been the master of Marlborough Mills, of all people, a man she had come to tolerate, as he was her father's friend, but no more. Of all the men she knew, he was one of the last she would even have considered likeable, let alone anything beyond that.
This had to be some mistake! There was no way she could be forced into marrying this man.
"Father!", she pleaded, feeling the pressure of tears rising to her eyes, as her heart threatened to burst out of her chest in panic.
"I cannot marry him!", she cried. "I did not mean anything by my actions! I was doing my christian duty in trying to keep someone out of harm's way! I do not like him! Father, please, I beg you, do not make me!"
Mr Hale closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers, before he started pacing the room in a nervous manner.
"My dear, I wish there was another solution, but as matters now stand, it is the only way to keep our family from utter ruin. We would be shunned, Margaret. I would lose all of my pupils, and with them our income. And your mother – " he stopped for a moment, swallowing hard.
"You know she is not well. She could not bear the disgrace. I am sure, she would not survive it, not after everything-"
He could not go on, knowing full well that his own actions had been the cause of his wife's despair. Had he not given up his parish in Helstone, and moved their family to Milton, none of this would have happened. At this moment, Richard Hale felt keenly, how he had failed his family.
"I could go back to London!", Margaret exclaimed, clinging to a last ray of hope. "To aunt Shaw and Edith. I am sure they would not send me away!"
Her father shook his head. "They are all still in Greece and will remain there for at least some months. There is no way, Margaret."
She jumped up from her seat, unable to remain still any longer.
"I cannot!", she cried.
"Father, it is not simply, that I dislike him! It is that I have seldomly met anyone I liked less! I have seen the way he treats his workers. I was there when he beat one of them, and we both saw him shove away that man and growl at him, that night, when we were passing the mill, after your lecture at the Lyceum Hall, remember?"
"Margaret", Mr Hale tried weakly. "I don't know what caused his behaviour that night, but let me assure you, I have spent a good amount of time with him, reading and discussing Plato and Aristotle, and he is not as bad as you imagine. In fact, he can be quite pleasant company. I am sure it is just a matter of getting to know him better."
"I do not want to get to know him!", she almost yelled, burying her face in her hands.
"I don't want anything to do with him! I have never desired his company, I merely tolerated it, because he is your pupil, and I know you are fond of him, but papa, I could not – " She shuddered, tears streaming down her face now. It was too much.
"And then, there are his mother and sister", she moaned, still hiding her face in her hands. "They are amongst the most disagreeable people I have met in my life. Surely you cannot expect me to marry into such a family, because of some stupid rumour. It will die down in a matter of a few weeks! Don't sacrifice my whole life on something like this!"
She sank down onto a chair and wiped her face with her hands in a not very ladylike manner.
Her father crouched down beside her, and carefully took her hands in his. "I wish – oh God, Margaret, how I wish I could spare you from this. I know it is my fault, for I decided to come here. How can I ever be forgiven?"
"Oh please, papa, don't!", she begged, squeezing his hands. "It was my own foolish mistake. I should never have told Mr Thornton to go down there. I don't know what I was thinking."
"Margaret", he whispered shakily. "My dear, you know that your mother is very sick. I, myself, am not young anymore. You are our only child, and while we do have family in London, I would not want you to be a burden on them once we are gone."
"Oh, papa! Don't speak so!", she cried out, frantically shaking her head. "You will be here for a long time!"
"No, Margaret, listen to me", he begged. "There will come a time when you will be on your own in this world. I am afraid that we are not wealthy. You don't have much of a dowry, and there will not be a lot for you to inherit. A good match would provide you with security and comfort, and Mr Thornton – while he may not be considered a man of the same social rank as your mother's family – has the means to support you."
"But I cannot love him!", she exclaimed. "How could I ever respect someone as my husband whose actions go so decidedly against anything I believe in?"
It was at this very moment, that the doorbell rang, making both father and daughter jump. "Who could that be, at this hour?", Mr Hale wondered aloud.
They heard Dixon open the door, and then a male voice could be heard, in answer to something the maid had said. Margaret recognized the voice and at once felt all the air leave her body.
It was him.
He had come to claim her.
"Papa! Please do not make me face him!", she breathed out in panic. "Not now! Not like this, I beg you!", Her hands grasped his arms, clinging to him hopelessly.
Richard Hale seemed overwhelmed, unsure of what to do, but when he saw the look on his child's face, all he could do was nod his head in agreement.
"Go to your room, Margaret", he whispered to her. "I will talk to Mr Thornton and ask him to come back tomorrow. It will give you some time to come to terms with everything. However, I must insist that, in the end, there will be no other option than to accept his proposal."
She did not make another reply, but turned on her heels and dashed from the room, as quickly as she could, flying up the stairs and slamming the door of her room shut behind her, locking it for good measure, before she fell onto her bed, as violent sobs shook her body.
John Thornton had, thus far, been completely oblivious to the extent of the disaster, the events of the day before had caused for Margaret Hale.
He had spent a sleepless night, tossing and turning, trying to organize all that he thought and felt into a speech he would present to her.
He had weighed every sentence and had rehearsed it over and over in his mind, as he had restlessly paced about his room. He had skipped breakfast, unable to force down any food, as his stomach had clenched into a painful knot.
Sitting in his office, he had tried hard to get some work done, but the truth was, that his eyes had strayed over to the clock every few minutes, waiting impatiently for an hour which was deemed appropriate to call on Miss Hale.
But as the clock had shown half-past ten, and he had finally decided that it was not too early to pay the young woman a visit, he had found it hard to rise from his chair and make his way to Crampton.
His hands felt cold, his palms wet with perspiration, his heart was racing at a dizzying pace, and he was sure that anyone who was nearby could actually hear it thrumming in his chest.
The way to Crampton seemed to take years, and at the same time, mere minutes - not long enough for him to put all his thoughts in order and remember the words he had so carefully rehearsed.
He stood on the front porch, motionless, for minutes, trying however unsuccessfully to calm his breathing. Then, he reached up a shaking hand, and pulled the handle of the doorbell, almost wincing as he heard its sound echo through the hallway inside.
A mere minute later, the door flew open and he found himself face to face with Miss Dixon.
"Mr Thornton", she greeted him in her usual, slightly displeased tone, as she looked him up and down in a manner that bordered on arrogance.
"Good morning", he stammered. "I am here to see Miss Hale."
Dixon narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips into a tight line, before begrudgingly stepping aside to let him in. "The young mistress is with her father, I will inquire whether she is willing to see visitors this morning."
"I will wait," he told her politely, trying to ignore his annoyance at the servant's airs and graces.
He could hear voices in the upstairs sitting room. Then, a door flew open, and there were quick steps, moving up the stairs, to the second floor. Another door slammed.
A moment later, Dixon came back down. "Miss Hale will not receive visitors this morning, Mr Thornton", she informed him coolly. "But Mr Hale asks you to join him for a moment, as he would like to have word with you."
Feeling slightly numb, John made his way up the first flight of steps to the sitting room. The door was open and Mr Hale was standing by the window, evidently deep in thought.
"Oh, John!", he called out at the sight of him. "Please do come in. Have a seat!" John noticed that the older man appeared slightly paler than usual and looked somewhat unsettled.
The mill master sank down into the nearest chair, glad to relieve his shaking knees from his own weight.
"John", Mr Hale started in a low voice. "I suppose we both know why you are here today." The younger man stared up at him incredulously.
"First of all, I would like to thank you for what you are about to do. I know you to be a man of honour, and therefore, I expected no less from you. It is, I am afraid, a most delicate matter. This is a situation I had prayed I would never find myself in, but it is something that cannot be changed now."
"Mr Hale-" John started. "I am not sure I know what you are speaking of." His tutor sought his gaze for a moment. He seemed confused.
"Well, of course, I am speaking of your marrying my daughter."
John felt his mouth drop open. How could Mr Hale know of his intentions? None of the older man's words made any sense.
"I truly am afraid I cannot follow you", he confessed. "How do you know of my – " he hesitated, almost choking on the words, "my plans to propose marriage to Miss Hale?"
"Was that not your intention?" Mr Hale asked, his eyes wide with fear. John did not know how to respond.
"It was my intention, although I cannot fathom how you would have come to know about it."
"Well, I daresay it is the only possible way of dealing with this issue, considering all that happened yesterday. Mr Bell was here this morning, to inform me that rumour has already spread of the events that took place at Marlborough Mills. I'm sure all of Milton must know by now, how Margaret threw herself at you to protect you. Mind you, she did not mean anything by it, she assured me. I am sure it was a sudden irrational act, but the consequences are extensive, all the same."
John gaped at his friend, as his brain tried to process all that he had just been told. Margaret had been recognized yesterday. All of Milton knew that she had thrown her arms around him in such an intimate way. No matter her initial reasons for such behaviour, he knew what this meant for her.
Having acted as she had done would mark her as a fallen woman in the public eye. The only way to reverse the damage done was – to marry her.
John felt a lump form in his throat, making it hard to swallow.
This was not how he had imagined his proposal. All of his carefully picked words, trying to express his feelings, would not be of any use in such a situation, for he knew Margaret Hale well enough to feel sure that, under these circumstances, she would neither believe him, nor be pleased to hear any of it.
Mr Hale was speaking again, and John had to force himself out of his gloomy thoughts, to hear what he was saying.
"As you can imagine, Margaret is in great distress. You are probably aware that, however much I wished for my daughter to take a liking to you as my friend, my attempts at recommending you to her have been to little avail."
Mr Hale released a heavy sigh and threw John a sad look.
"I do not wish to hurt your feelings, John, for you are a dear friend to me. But I will not lie to you. Margaret told me this morning that she seldomly met any man she would be less willing to marry."
John felt as though he had been punched in the face.
Mr Hale's words knocked the breath right out of him. He just sat there, stunned, as he felt his heart shatter into a million pieces.
"She said that?", he managed to choke out after what seemed like an eternity.
Mr Hale, apparently oblivious to the impact his words had had on the other man, nodded fervently. "Those were her words. She cried so bitterly at the prospect, it broke my heart", he added defeatedly, before straightening himself up.
"But of course, this will not change things. It must be done, there is no other way. She will not see you now, but I told her that I would ask you to come by tomorrow, and I am sure she will have caught herself by then."
He looked at John fearfully. "You will come again tomorrow, won't you John? You will come to her aid?"
John was in a daze. All of this felt unreal, it could not be possible.
He felt trapped. He could not marry her. Not like this – not when it caused her such misery.
It would cause him misery as well, to marry the woman he loved more than anything in this world, without her returning his feelings. How would they ever be able to endure each other's company after this?
He would sacrifice her happiness and his own forever.
John nodded weakly, as he heard himself say:
"Of course, I will."
TTTTTTTTTTTTT
Note: A few words on forced marriage in Victorian times: Kudos to Elisabeth Gaskell for providing us with a very realistic scenario that could indeed have ended just like this. (It's probably the reason why we have so many N&S fics with this trope). Gaskell did not go down this route herself, but Margaret narrowly avoided disaster, even in the original.
Being a woman is not always easy, even today. Being a woman in Victorian times could be terrifying on many levels. Reputation was everything, and it was a very fragile thing, because any small act could ruin it. Merely being alone in a room with a man for a few minutes, with the door closed, or talking with a man in the street, unchaperoned, could be enough for that.
Victorian society was cruel and unyielding in these matters, so what happened to Margaret in this story is, sadly, not too far-fetched and I attempted to portray her emotions as realistically as possible.
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