Chapter Four

The room was close and crowded, with little air moving. A dozen or more people, both men and women, stood queued in front of the only counter, where a single clerk struggled to serve each customer as quickly as possible. Little murmurs of conversation could be heard throughout the room as people shifted restlessly from foot to foot and shuffled slowly forward. Margaret sighed as she realized that she would have to wait a number of minutes before she could be served- and that she would be with Thornton the whole time.

"It was generous of you to agree to accompany me, even though your assistance is not needed," Margaret informed her companion, moving in front of him as they took their places in line. Ignoring Thornton altogether would be unforgivably ill-mannered. "I am entirely capable of fending for myself inside a post office."

"I am well aware of your capabilities. You never need my assistance." A heavyset woman standing in line in front of Margaret stepped back abruptly just then, jostling Margaret, and Thornton courteously reached out his arm to shield her. He waited until the woman had stepped back into her place before speaking again. "But I did not wish to argue with your father. He seemed excessively fatigued. The sooner you can get through your business here, the sooner you can return to his side."

"Thank you. I am grateful for your thoughtfulness." Margaret looked away again and tried not to think about the man standing directly behind her. She hoped the line would move faster than she had reason to hope at this moment. She could smell Thornton's cologne, rich and warm, and feel his looming presence at her back, nearly close enough to touch. She did not want to think about the way she had thrown her arms around him to protect him from the striking workers, or the way he had carried her into the house in his arms, shielding her from the wrath of the crowd. Such intimate gestures between two people who hardly knew each other! But she would not allow her mind to dwell on those things.

The silence lasted for a minute or two until Thornton spoke again. This time his voice was gentle and deep.

"I never had a chance to properly express my condolences on the death of your mother."

"Mr. Thornton! That was months ago!" The line moved a slow half step forward and she moved with it before she turned to face him. "You and your mother were both very kind to us at that time. My father and I appreciated the card you sent, as well as your presence at the services."

So she had noticed him at the church that bleak day! Thornton felt a surge of pride. Hannah had stayed home, in accordance with the custom that generally kept women away from funerals, but Thornton had been present for every minutes of the services. And Margaret said that they had appreciated his presence!

"I should have done more," he countered, watching her face. "With as much as your father's friendship means to me, I should have supported your family more during the funeral and afterwards."

"You did all that you could," Margaret insisted. "You came to the funeral, and I know you would have come to the house if . . . if . . . circumstances had been different," she finished rather uncomfortably. "I am sorry that I had to turn you away when you tried to call. Please allow me to repeat what I said previously, that although you are always welcome in our home, there were reasons why we could not admit you to the house during my mother's last few days."

Finally, they were going to talk about that awful day when Margaret had turned him away from the house. He had longed to ask her about it and now here she was, unable to escape his questioning.

" 'Things are not as they seem,'" Thornton said, quoting what Margaret had told him at the time. "I have given those words a great deal of thought, but I am no closer to understanding them now than I was then."

Margaret looked away uneasily, unwilling to meet Thornton's eyes. Thornton continued. "You said I was most welcome, but you still turned me away."

"We were not at home to any callers. Mother was very ill."

"But there was a visitor in your home that day," Thornton said gravely. "Please do not try to deny it. I saw his umbrella in the entryway, and his laughter rang out into the street, down from the second-floor window. Did you think I could not hear it?"

"I am not a simpleton, Mr. Thornton." Margaret's eyes blazed up into his, and he was startled at the way her sudden passion made her whole face come more alive. Her nostrils flared and pink swept in to her cheeks, reminding him that no other woman he knew could match her fierce spirit. "I knew you saw the umbrella and heard the laughter coming from- that other person, but I was being truthful. We could not admit you at the time!"

Thornton's lips twisted as he looked down at her. "You were being truthful- at the time."

He expected her temper to flare even more at these words, but to his surprise she looked down again. She drew a long breath while Thornton watched, wondering what she was thinking.

Margaret flinched inwardly at his reminder of her deception. When the police had started their inquiry into Leonard's death, she had been forced to dissemble about her presence at the Outwood station that night. There was no way she could admit to being on the train platform without mentioning her brother's name and raising more questions. As a result Thornton had discovered her deception, and her character now suffered in his eyes.

Perhaps she should be grateful to her father for throwing her into Thornton's company in this way. This was her opportunity to set things right and to thank him for protecting her. She could not tell Thornton why she had done as she had, of course, but she might be able to give him enough information to make him think a little better of her.

There was a little pause while the queue in front of the counter moved forward again, taking Margaret and Thornton with it. It was only after they had moved a half foot or so that Margaret dared to face him again. This time her voice was low and humble. "Mr. Thornton, I am grateful for the way you protected my reputation during the inquest. I know what you must believe of me. However, I wish you would not jump to conclusions. I must ask you not to judge on appearances."

Thornton frowned, but Margaret continued speaking. "I am guilty of deceit but nothing more. I have done nothing I am ashamed of, and nothing I would not do again."

Thornton's anger rose. "I thought you had better character than that," he said fiercely. "I would never have expected to hear a lie from you, of all people!"

His voice had risen along with his intensity, and his words carried farther than he intended. The heavyset woman who had nearly knocked Margaret down earlier turned around to look askance between her and Thornton. When neither Margaret nor Thornton answered her unspoken questions, she shook her head doubtfully and turned to face the front once more.

Thornton waited until she faced completely forward before speaking again, keeping his voice more controlled this time. "I do not understand how you can admit to behavior that endangered your reputation and yet insist that you did no wrong."

"If you knew the circumstances I do not believe you would condemn me." Margaret lifted her chin stubbornly.

"I wish I knew the circumstances. I wish you could bring yourself to confide them to me."

"I cannot do that without betraying another person's secret!"

"Does this other person's secret mean that much to you? Is another man worth the sacrifice of your character?"

Margaret lifted her beautiful, reproachful eyes to his, but she said nothing. Instead she turned away from him, letting the proud set of her shoulders answer for her. Thornton knew he had struck a nerve. He decided to push further, stepping fractionally closer to her. "Was the man on the platform the same person who was at your house the day I tried to call?"

Margaret raised her face again at those words, and this time there was unmistakable alarm in her wide eyes and parted lips. Thornton knew his guess was correct. "Never mind," he added, with just a hint of bitterness. "I know you will not tell me."

The line moved just then, and Margaret was relieved to turn her back on Mr. Thornton as she took a step forward. Their conversation was becoming too intense, too personal. She heard him step behind her and sensed his presence very near, close enough to touch. "Margaret," she heard, in a voice just barely above a whisper. It was so soft that she wondered if he had actually murmured her name or if the sound had come from her own active imagination. She could almost feel his breath on her ear. "Margaret, dearest Margaret. I may be uncouth and hard, but I would never have led you into any falsehood for my sake."

Margaret stifled a gasp. She did not know how to respond to these words, nor how she could answer if Thornton had, indeed, spoken. Perhaps his passion for her had not died. Perhaps it lay just underneath the surface, a dormant seed, waiting for some unknown touch of nature to bring it forth once again. Her heart leaped to think that, in spite of everything, this stern man might still hold her dear.

Nothing further was said between them until they reached the front of the line. The heavyset matron in front of Margaret stepped up to the counter, leaving a little space between her and Margaret, and Margaret, not as concerned at being overheard, turned to partially face Thornton.

"Mr. Thornton, despite the disagreements between us I would ask you a favor. Since mother's death my father has been quite cast down. He avoids company and has few visitors. Sometimes he goes almost an entire day speaking only to me. You are nearly the only friend he has in Milton. Would it be too much to ask you to consider calling on him as you used to?"

Thornton considered her words, looking down thoughtfully at her upturned face. "I might consider it, if my work schedule permits."

"It would mean a great deal if you could agree to forget what has passed between us, for my father's sake. If you wish I could even arrange to be out of the house when you call."

Thornton shook his head. "That will not be necessary, Miss Hale. I would never impose myself on you if my presence would make you uncomfortable."

"My feelings are not important in this situation, Mr. Thornton. The only thing that matters is lifting my father's spirits."

Thornton's heart warmed at her words. Her selfless attitude was one of the things that he admired so much in this woman. "Your feelings matter to me, Miss Hale, as do those of your father. If you are absolutely certain that my presence would not be a burden to you, I will come to lessons once again."

Margaret smiled gratefully. She had not expected such an easy capitulation.

"Perhaps," Thornton added carefully, "perhaps you might also see fit to join us in our discussions of Greek philosophy from time to time."

Margaret's smile grew wider as her luminous eyes gazed up at him, and Thornton nearly forgot to breathe. "I would like that- very much."

"Then you can expect to see me this evening, Miss Hale, if you will be home."

Margaret gave a nod of assent and faced forward again, leaving Thornton nearly overcome. He could scarcely believe what had just passed between them. Had Margaret really invited him to come to Crampton? Had he just agreed? Who would he be calling on- Margaret's father or on Margaret herself? It might very well be both! He had no idea how to explain the situation even to himself, and he could not imagine what his mother would say when she found out. But he had now given his word, and he would honor it. He would call on the Hale family in their home this very evening! He only wished that it was already nighttime.

The heavyset woman finished her business at the counter and the clerk called Margaret forward. She asked if there were any letters for the Hale family and Thornton noted that she received a thick missive addressed to her and her father in a feminine hand. No doubt it was one of their relatives, perhaps from an overseas location, judging by the exotic postage in one corner. Margaret's face was alight with pleasure as she tucked it into the pocket of her heavy shawl.

Then Thornton saw her remove a letter from her reticule and place it on the counter in front of the clerk. "I would like to post this letter, please. What will the cost be?"

The clerk eyed the address, squinting to make it out. "How far is it going, miss?"

"It is going to Spain."

The clerk picked up the envelope in his hand, peering at it from under thick brows. "Can't hardly read the direction."

"I am sending it to Cadiz," said Margaret patiently. "What postage must be paid?"

"Have to weigh it first." The clerk indicated the scale next to him but did not place the letter on it. He squinted at the writing even more. "We don't get many letters headed for that country through here. What be the name on it?"

"What does it matter?" Margaret answered, now a trifle annoyed. "All I need to know is the postage due."

"If I can't make the name out, then how do you expect them Spaniards to?" Thornton thought the man was making a feeble joke, but Margaret suddenly looked worried instead of amused.

"Please just tell me the amount I must pay," she said, with a quick glance in Thornton's direction. She looked forward again and leaned closer to the counter to say something to the clerk in a hushed voice.

"Begging your pardon, miss," the clerk said more respectfully. "'I meant no disrespect. Let me see how much this weighs."

Margaret did not glance back again as she counted out the amount the clerk named. Without looking at Thornton she turned away from the counter and swept out the door, her skirts trailing grandly behind her. Thornton stared darkly after her, his lip curling in disdain. He knew without being told that Margaret was still protecting the man from the train platform, her lover, the gentleman from Cadiz.