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A Man's Duty
The moment her son stepped into the room, Hannah Thornton knew that something had gone terribly wrong.
His face was ashen, and his eyes had a strangely bleak look about them, as he quietly crossed the room and poured himself a brandy. He had never been in the habit of drinking during the day, and if he did, it was a bad sign indeed.
She tried to keep her expression neutral as she worked on mending the white tablecloth she was holding.
He walked over to the window and looked out over the courtyard in silence. She inquired about the mill, about the Irish workers, and when he opened his mouth to answer, his voice was strangely hoarse and trembling.
Eventually, he stepped closer to her, placing his hand on the backrest of her chair.
"By the way", he began, "I was right, mother. Miss Hale does not care for me."
Hannah felt her breath catch in her throat, as anger rose within her. She had rejected him.
After everything that girl had done yesterday, after throwing herself at him so brazenly, placing them both in such a compromising situation, that arrogant creature had played with his heart and had broken it in the process.
"No one loves me", he mused painfully. "No one cares for me but you."
Dropping her needlework, she grasped his arm, pulled him down into a crouching position next to her and cupped his face with both of her hands.
"A mother's love holds fast and forever", she whispered to him. "A girl's love is like a puff of smoke. It changes with every wind."
He looked at her in such torment that it broke her heart. "I knew I was not good enough for her", he muttered. "Yet, I think I love her more than ever."
"I hate her!", she spat out angrily, making him flinch. "I tried not to, when I thought she would make you happy."
He shook his head, raising himself up until he stood tall once more. "You must not hate her, mother. It's not her fault that she does not return my feelings. I cannot force her to."
"Who is she that she dares to reject you?", Hannah growled.
"She won't", he replied.
His words were followed by silence, as she could only gape at him in incomprehension.
He slowly turned around to face her. "She will marry me, mother. There is no other way, for by now all of Milton will know of the things that happened yesterday. Those men, down in the yard, those rioters, they recognized her and word has spread."
Hannah practically felt the colour draining from her own face, as she slowly rose to her feet.
"Why?", she ground out.
"Why would she throw herself at you so shamelessly if she did not want to marry you?"
He released a shaky breath. "I don't think she meant anything by it. Everything happened so quickly, I doubt she had time to think it through to the end. And now, she has gotten herself into this terrible situation of having to marry someone she cannot love."
"And what about you?", Hannah hissed, enraged. "Who asks about your feelings in this matter, John? Being forced into a loveless marriage by the reckless actions of that silly girl? Who is she to impose a life of misery upon you? You should rather let her bear the consequences of her actions! I know, I would, if I were you."
"Mother!"
His voice was firm, the expression on his face stern and determined. "You know I cannot do that. I am bound in honour, as you yourself stated so plainly, just yesterday. I cannot stand by and watch her lose everything."
Hannah sighed heavily, looking down at her trembling hands. "No, I suppose you cannot, John. But you can't expect me to rejoice in a situation that is sure to bring you pain for the rest of your life."
She stepped closer to him, laying her hand on his arm. "Oh, my boy", she moaned. "I had wished you all the happiness in this world. By God, you deserve no less. This woman is not worthy of your affections."
His hand came up to hold hers, squeezing it gently.
"It is no use, mother", he told her. "It has to be done, and the only thing you can do for me now, is to at least try and be courteous to Miss Hale. She has not chosen this any more than I have, and I am sure she feels it bitterly. Please, don't make this any more painful than it already is, for both of us."
Hannah straightened herself up to her full height and schooled her face into her usual firm expression.
"And, so I shall", she told him in what she hoped to be a neutral voice. "If only for your sake."
The candles had burned down a while ago, shrouding the room in darkness. Margaret lay on top of her bed covers, staring up at the canopy above her. She felt numb, exhausted from crying for hours, until her tears had run dry, and her body had been too weak to go on.
After her father had first spoken to her today, she had tried to make herself believe that all of it was just some grand mistake that could be cleared up. It was only when the doorbell had rung to announce the arrival of Mr Thornton, that she had been hit with the reality of her situation.
No matter which way she looked at it, she knew that there was no way out of this. Not without causing irreparable damage to the lives of the people she loved.
Her mother had endured so much in the past year, having been forced to leave their home and move to this place, which she had grown to hate more than anything. Having been robbed of all their friends and social contacts, she was now sickening, growing weaker each day, and Margaret knew, that it was only a matter of a short time until…no, she could not think of it.
They had not told Mrs Hale of the things that had happened, and they would not, if they could avoid it. The older woman did not get out of the house anymore, and she was too ill to receive visitors, so it was highly unlikely that she would hear anything about the riot or its aftermath.
If she married Mr Thornton, they could keep this from her and spare her the pain. If she did not, they would all be shunned, her father would likely lose his income, and the impact on their family would be something her mother would likely not survive.
No, Mrs Hale would never know the true reason behind this marriage. She would be left assuming that her daughter had accepted the mill owner's hand of her own free will, and Margaret would not have it any other way. There was no use in causing the dying woman unnecessary pain in the last weeks of her life.
As much as Mrs Hale had always desired for Margaret to marry a true gentleman, someone worthy of Sir Beresford's grandchild, she could rest assured that Margaret would be financially secure and – contrary to her daughter – Maria Hale had developed a certain regard for Mr Thornton, whom she considered ambitious and honourable.
No, however much Margaret would wish and pray – she knew, there was no way around it. She would have to marry Mr Thornton, and spend the rest of her days with a man she could neither bring herself to like nor respect.
She closed her eyes, even though she knew that sleep would not come to her.
He would be back tomorrow, and she would have to face him. Her fate was sealed.
Oh, how she wished that she could turn back time and undo all of her mistakes.
Once more, he had spent a sleepless night.
Once more, he had tried to compose a speech to deliver to her in the morning.
It was a very different speech from the one he had originally intended for her. As he had lain awake, pondering this dreadful turn of events, John had decided that he would not tell her of his feelings.
She did not reciprocate them, he was sure of that now, and there was no need to cause her even more discomfort than she was already experiencing, by admitting his desire for her. He would have to keep his feelings to himself, even if the mere thought of it threatened to choke him.
How could he spend his life beside her, having to hide all that he felt?
'For her! Do it for her!', he told himself. And so he would, whatever the cost.
At eleven o clock sharp, he found himself at the Hale's doorstep.
This time around, he felt strangely calm as he rang the doorbell and listened to the familiar stomping of the housemaid's feet on the stairs.
A minute later, he was led into the sitting room, and there she was – seated in a chair by the window, her face white as a sheet, red rims around her eyes, as if she had been crying.
Mr Hale had sat with her, but jumped up at their guest's arrival. He greeted John politely, before hastily excusing himself, and then he was gone.
John just stood there, struggling for words. She would not meet his eyes and instead fixed her gaze down onto her hands, which were anxiously clasping a white handkerchief.
"Miss Hale", he began, carefully taking a step towards her.
"I am aware that I have been the cause of great misery to you. I know that none of this was your intention when you so bravely tried to protect me from the anger of these men. We both know very well the expectations placed on us in a case such as this, and consequently, it is my obligation to ask for your hand in marriage."
There.
He had done it.
How often he had dreamt of saying those words to her, but never had he imagined that they would make him feel this miserable.
"I realize that you do not – " he hesitated, as his thoughts raced wildly.
'- love me! You do not love me, but I cannot say that!'
"- think too kindly of me", he finally decided upon, before continuing:
"That our opinions on certain matters differ greatly, which caused us to quarrel in the past, on more than one occasion. I do, however, hope that if we get to know each other better, we might grow to be a bit more tolerant and maybe come to view each other with a certain amount of regard."
Margaret made no reply.
She sat in silence, her eyes still fixed on her trembling hands. Her breathing had become shallow as she had listened to his words.
He spoke well. His voice was quiet and serious, his tone calm, almost soft.
How could he be calm?
Why, oh why was he playing along in this ridiculous scheme? In this miserable situation, her actions had gotten them both into? She wanted to hate him for it, but somehow, she could not.
She sensed him draw nearer, and then he crouched down beside her, lowering his head slightly to search her eyes with his, daring her to look at him. She noticed that he was slightly paler than he had been the last time she had seen him. He looked tired, and his expression was unreadable.
"Miss Hale, I do not wish to be your enemy", he told her in a low voice.
"I know that this match is not based on affection and that the best we can hope for is companionship, but I pledge to do everything in my power to provide you with all the comfort you require."
He was silent for a moment, trying to give her time to process his words, before he went on: "Having said this, there is nothing left for me, but to kindly ask you to accept my offer and be my wife."
He was waiting for an answer, she knew, and she fought hard to find her voice. When she finally opened her mouth to speak, she barely managed to choke out the few words:
"I accept your proposal, Mr Thornton."
She wanted to cry.
Still crouched down before her, he slowly reached his hand into the pocket of his frock coat and withdrew a small box. Margaret stifled a gasp as she realized what it was.
He opened the box to reveal a fine, golden ring with a beautiful little floral design, which was adorned with tiny white diamonds.
He had been unsure on whether to purchase a betrothal ring, considering that she was not a willing bride, and not wanting to cause her unnecessary pain. But not giving her anything would have suited him even less, for he was determined to show her that he was not indifferent to her – that he had given the matter some thought. He could only pray that she would not misunderstand.
Margaret stared at the ring, unable to breathe.
It was beautiful.
And it was horrifying.
To her, it was nothing but a symbol of captivity. "I'm not sure whether this gesture is appreciated, but I did not want to come empty-handed", he explained a bit unsurely.
Knowing her obligations, she held out her hand and let him slide the ring onto her finger. It fit her perfectly. How he had guessed her size, she could not fathom.
"It is beautiful", she told him dutifully, but without much joy.
Very carefully, he closed his fingers around her hand for a moment. His skin was warm against hers, it felt rough and calloused from labour, as, she supposed, was to be expected from a man of his trade.
"I think it appropriate that we refer to each other by our christian names from now on", he told her, to which she gave a curt and silent nod. It was not like she had a choice in the matter.
For a moment his hand tightened around hers, before he let go and rose to his feet.
"I will go and speak to your father. I suppose it would be in your best interest to keep this engagement as short as possible." She nodded towards the floor.
He went over to the door and was about to leave the room, when Margaret finally found her voice.
"Do you want this?", she called out to him.
He spun around on his heels to look at her and found her a picture of misery.
"This marriage? Is it something you want?", she blurted out.
'Do you wish to have me for your possession?' she could not help but add quietly in her head.
She was being unfair, she knew. If anyone was to blame for this, it was certainly herself. But at this moment, she just felt so helpless and scared, that she could not think clearly.
John looked at her for a long moment. Had she only known how much he had longed to marry her not forty-eight hours ago?
He slowly shook his head. "I never wished to cause you pain, Miss H-" he stopped and swallowed.
"Margaret", he murmured then.
It was the first time he had spoken her name out loud, and her eyes flew up at the sound of it.
She looked like she was about to burst into tears at any second, and he could not stand the sight of it any longer.
"I bid you a good day", he muttered. Then he turned around and quickly fled the room.
