"Art is never finished, only abandoned."

-Leonardo DiVinci

Chapter Four

Dr. Donaldson's carriage arrived precisely at a quarter 'til two. To the surprise of Margaret and her mother, he came with the carriage, rather than just sending it for them, and greeted them at their door.

"Ah, Mrs. Hale," he said, "you decided not to test my threat, eh?" He laughed good naturedly. "I most certainly would have somehow encouraged your attendance at my wife's sewing meeting. May I carry your bags?"

"No," her mother answered. "It is quite light and I am certain Margaret can to see to her own." She walked past both of them, nose in the air and with the help of the coachman, climbed aboard.

Margaret bit her lip to avoid laughing at her mother. They had been arguing daily since Donaldson's last visit. The medicine seemed to improve her other's energy, if not her spirits. She did not want to go today, of course, but Margaret reminded her mother of Donaldson's threat and that seemed sufficient to get her out of bed and dressed.

Once inside the carriage, Dr. Donaldson asked, "Miss Hale, what do you think of our Cathedral?"

"I found it quite lovely," she said. "I did not expect it to be so large inside. Mother, they have done some striking renovations only recently."

"You must come this week, Mrs. Hale. The Bishop will be addressing the congregation."

Her mother continued staring out the window, ignoring Donaldson's comment. The doctor caught Margaret's eye and winked at her. "In fact, Mary and I would be glad to come for you."

"That will not be necessary," her mother snapped. "We can arrange our own transportation."

"Thank you for the offer, Doctor," Margaret said, smiling. Dr. Donaldson obvious understood her mother's behavior. "I also thank you for coming for us today. I fear Mother and I would have become lost should we have tried to locate your home."

"It was my pleasure. I saw three patients already this morning, had lunch with my wife and now have come to collect you before going out once again."

They turned off New Street onto a side road and the carriage stopped in front of a dark brick, two story home. It was nearly the size of her Aunt Shaw's home in London, but the landscape and outdoor decorations could not compare to her aunt's. There were no statues or fountains or flowers of any sort decorating the walk.

Dr. Donaldson stepped down and helped out each woman before climbing right back inside. "Good day, ladies. Enjoy your sewing meeting."

The carriage pulled away, leaving Margaret and her mother to approach the front door. It was not yet two o'clock, the assigned time for the meeting, but as the doctor had brought them himself, his wife could hardly be surprised by their arrival.

"Margaret, wait." Her mother pulled on her arm to halt her. "I cannot go in. This will not due."

Margaret frowned. It would be easy to acquiesce to her mother's wishes as she herself was not overly excited by the prospect of spending time with strangers. Knowing her mother had to somehow become involved in the community, Margaret was determined they would mingle, even if the society was not quite as high as her mother had hoped.

"We must go in." She knew her mother was anxious, could read it in her eyes. She walked forward and took her mother's thin hand. "We must interact with people. I do not think Papa will relocate from Milton any time soon so we must become part of the society here, else we will reside in isolation."

"But in Helstone—"

"We are not in Helstone." How many times had her mother uttered that phrase over the course of the past week? "You must not compare our situation here to there. There are very few similarities. Indeed, it as if we have all taken on a new life."

"But are we to mingle with mill wives, and shop keeper's wives?" Her mother shook her head. "I was once among the gentry Margaret. And now…" She sighed.

"Yes, Mrs. Hale, mill wives and mothers." Mrs. Thornton had approached from behind without their notice.

"Hello." Margaret smiled as brightly as she could at the newcomer. How embarrassing to be caught in such a discussion. "Mrs. Thornton, this is my mother, Maria Hale."

Mrs. Thornton politely held out her hand, but as she had done to Mr. Thornton, her mother failed to reciprocate. Mrs. Thornton's jaw stiffened and she tipped up her head.

"The women inside Mrs. Donaldson's home might be beneath your notice were you in your fancy homes in London, Mrs. Hale, yet here, in Milton, they are the finest of society." She glanced at Margaret, gave her a polite nod, and stepped around them to enter the door, held open by a maid.

Margaret closed her eyes on a sigh. Poorly done, Mama.

"Let us get this over with, shall we?" her mother said. "Mrs. Thornton is no more agreeable than her son."

Margaret almost began to argue with her mother's assessment, but stopped herself. In truth, she rather liked Mrs. Thornton. Although her dialect or accented voice was different from women in the south, London in particular, she still carried herself as well as any refined lady Margaret had ever met.

The maid was still standing by the door, awaiting their entrance. Margaret led the way, hoping her mother would not turn around and hire a gig back to Crampton. The confrontation with Mrs. Thornton was enough to make Margaret question the decision to come. What must Mrs. Thornton be thinking?

The maid was very friendly and quickly took their outerwear in the foyer before leading them down the main hallway, every inch of its walls decorated with paintings and stitching and portraits. They were guided into the room at the farthest end, where women's voices could be heard. Again, Margaret led the way, and was immediately greeted by an older, plump woman with a radiant smile.

"You must be the Hales!" The woman rushed to the door and took Margaret's hands, gripping and shaking them briskly before tipping her head toward Margaret's mother. "I am Mary Donaldson!"

"Hello!" Margaret exclaimed. "I am so glad to be here. Your husband was so kind to invite us and more so to bring us here."

"He was afraid you might get turned around and lost since you are new to Milton. Now come ladies, meet some of the others from our group."

Mrs. Donaldson took Margaret's hand and led her toward the large windows where a circle of chairs and sofas were set to take advantage of the best lighting in the room. After a quick count of heads, Margaret realized there would be seven others, including Mrs. Thornton.

"Well, ladies, we have a new mother and daughter to join us!" Mrs. Donaldson turned toward Margaret. "I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you are here, Miss Hale. We are anxious to have younger women in our group. Penelope Slickson comes most times with her mother Olivia." Mrs. Donaldson pointed to a blonde headed woman and the older woman to her right. "She is very talented with the needle and piano as well."

Mrs. Donaldson continued to name the women in the room, until they reached Mrs. Thornton, who said, I what Margaret thought a strained voice, "We are already acquainted."

There was a place available on a sofa, which her mother was guided toward. That left a chair open for Margaret, but a big fluffy cat was already in residence, giving her an evil eye.

"Ah yes, Miss Fluff." Mrs. Donaldson leaned forward and picked up the cat and set her on the ground. The insolent cat turned its head toward Margaret with a glare. "There you are, Miss Hale."

"Margaret, please," she said. "She's a lovely cat."

"I prefer dogs." A woman, across the way said. Margaret thought she was called Mrs. Hamper. "I have a small poodle that rarely leaves my side at home."

Margaret never had animals growing up. Her mother and Aunt Shaw both thought they were dirty creatures. Edith had begged for a kitten one Christmas, but despite usually catering to her daughter's every whim, Aunt Shaw did not give way.

"You will meet her, Mrs. Hale, if you and Miss Hale join us next week," Mrs. Hamper continued. "We trade houses each week."

Margaret felt her mother's anxiety rise at the thought of hosting a group of strangers. Margaret immediately began planning in her mind how they could accommodate eight women in their small house. It could work. The important thing was getting her mother to participate in something- anything- in Milton.

The women turned their attention back to their handiwork. Everyone, except one woman, whose name Margaret had already forgotten, were stitching. The unique one was knitting a blanket in different shades of blue.

"That is a lovely blanket," Margaret said as she pulled out her materials to begin stitching. "Blue is my favorite color."

"Mine as well," the lady answered. "My daughter will have our first grandchild in the spring and I am hopeful to have this complete well before then. Where are you from? I do not recognize your accent."

"We are from Helstone," her mother answered. She had begun stitching already. "Margaret spent most of her time in London, with my sister."

"What part of London, Miss Hale?" the lady continued. "My daughter and her new husband have just settled there."

"In Harley Street," Margaret answered.

"I am not familiar with all the areas, I suppose. I know my son-in-law resides in Mayfair. Is Harley Street close?"

"Yes." Margaret nodded. "Quite close. I walked through the area almost every day."

"You enjoy walking?" Mrs. Thornton asked.

"I do," Margaret answered, smiling at her. "In Helstone, I spent much of my time outside. There were beautiful tall trees and pathways." She smiled remembering the full days she spent wandering aimlessly, with not a worry in the world. "I have yet to find good walking paths here in Milton," Margaret continued. "Are there such places nearby, where I might walk?"

"There are," Mrs. Thornton answered nodding. "They can be difficult to locate, and as I understand, are not as large as some of the London parks."

Margaret wished to ask her where she could go, but perhaps the next time they met she would inquire. For now, she listened as the women, who clearly knew each other quite well, discussed their families and daily lives. It was nice to simply be surrounded by new people, to already feel accepted in this group.

"You are married, Mrs. Hale?" Mrs. Slickson.

"Yes," her mother answered.

"My husband is one of the mill masters. Mrs. Hamper is also married to a mill man. Mrs. Lewis, is married to a wool trader." That was the woman's name! "Mrs. Thornton, is a widow. Mrs. Latimer is married to one of the bankers. You see, we come from a variety of backgrounds, but we all have the love of handiworks in common."

"Are there stores in Milton that carry threads and yarns?" Margaret was in need of a few new colors for a different project she wanted to undertake.

"There are," Mrs. Lewis answered. "One of my sons, Rupert, owns a shop on New Street simply called Threads. He also carries linen and fabrics for clothing."

"It is a wonderful store," Mrs. Donaldson said. "I go there at the very least once per week."

"He delivers as well," Mrs. Slickson said. "I was recently ill, and he was very kind to see that I had the materials I needed to remain occupied as I healed."

"Have you a beau, Miss Hale?" Mrs. Lewis asked.

Margaret flushed at the unexpected and rather impertinent question. "Ah, no. We have only just arrived in Milton."

"Yes, I know, but have you come here with an attachment?" Mrs. Lewis pressed.

Henry Lennox's image briefly fluttered through her mind. She shook her head. "No. I have no commitment to anyone at present."

"Ladies, do not begin your matchmaking!" Mrs. Donaldson clicked her tongue. "Let the lass get her feet set firmly on the ground."

That quieted the ladies for a bit, but not long enough in Margaret's opinion, as the next lady to speak had an annoying, rather nasally voice and equally annoying, air of superiority.

"Miss Hale, my daughter, Anne, has just returned from Switzerland," Mrs. Latimer said. "She attended one of the most prestigious finishing schools there. Have you had such an opportunity?"

"No, I did not attend such an institution." Margaret was careful to use that word as it was an effective description of the places. From what her aunt told her, these schools simply turned out women, one right after another, with the same behaviors, look, and superior attitudes.

"That is a shame. I believe every young woman of means should attend such a school."

"Did you attend one, Mrs. Latimer?" Margaret asked.

"I did not." Her face darkened. "I wanted better for my daughter, thus, her father and I encouraged her attendance."

"London has many diversions I enjoyed," Margaret said. She turned to Mrs. Donaldson, a friendly face in the circle. "I understand there is a new theater in Milton? Lyceum Hall?"

"Yes, indeed," Mrs. Hamper answered. "All our husbands supported the building of the theater. They offer frequent concerts, dance assemblies, and an occasional musical or play."

The maid that welcomed them in the house arrived with tea and biscuits, and the women set aside their work to partake in the snack. Margaret had noticed that Mrs. Thornton continually looked her way, looking for what, Margaret did not understand, but looking at her just the same.

She accepted tea from Mrs. Donaldson and sat back against the chair to enjoy it. Her mother had yet to say ten words to anyone. She was a quiet woman by nature, but to remain so silent, seemed almost rude. She was here to interact with new women, to meet people in Milton, so she could begin to feel as if she were a part of their new city. If she continued to fight it, Margaret knew she would be miserable.

She looked timid, frail and pale sitting against the blood red upholstered davenport. Perhaps Margaret should suggest leaving? Her mother should be able to interact for a bit longer, should she not? They were the last to arrive, they should not be the first to leave. That would indeed be rude.

"Mrs. Hale, what sort of business is your husband involved in?"

Mrs. Latimer, was the lady to ask the most difficult question for Margaret's mother to answer. Margaret knew this was a subject her mother was uncomfortable discussing. She had not yet accepted her husband's new employment, and discussing it was difficult for her.

"My husband was a clergyman for nearly thirty years." Her voice was weak, quiet.

"And now?" Mrs. Latimer pressed.

Margaret hated the woman. How could that be? She had no reason to feel so negative toward a person she had just met, but the woman gave off the most horrid sensation.

"He is a tutor."

"A tutor? Who does he tutor in Milton?" Mrs. Latimer laughed.

Margaret glanced at Mrs. Thornton, who met her eyes, but said nothing.

"A great many parents wish to provide a good education for their children, just as you yourself did for your daughter," Margaret said, knowing her mother was close to falling to pieces. "My father has already secured nearly a dozen pupils. Several were already contracted prior to our arrival, thanks to the assistance of Mr. Adam Bell."

"Mr. Bell? Your father knows him?" Mrs. Slickson asked.

"Mr. Bell is my godfather," Margaret answered with a small smile. "He and my father are the very best of friends."

"Well, that explains, why you have come to Milton," Mrs. Hamper said. "You live in one of his properties?"

Margaret nodded, swallowing her sip of tea. "We do."

"Well, I suppose if you cannot afford to live in this neighborhood, Crampton is adequate," Mrs. Latimer said.

There always had to be one woman in every party to ruin it.

John tipped his head to the side, stretching. He had been sitting far too long that day, and the more he attempted to decipher his Greek lesson, the more his head began to pound. He hated to quit so soon, he had been at the Hale home only for a mere thirty minutes, but his head was protesting.

"Mr. Hale, I fear I must cease studying this evening." He frowned at Mr. Hale. "It has been a very long day and I apologize but I think I must cut this lesson short."

"Oh, forgive me, Mr. Thornton. I neglected to notice your struggles."

"It is just a headache. I looked at ledgers all day." He grinned despite his pain. "Although literature and languages are my true love, I find myself spending the vast majority of my time with numbers and math."

"Shall I fetch some soothing syrup?"

"No, but I thank you for the offer."

"Tea?"

"No." John shook his head. "I think it best for me to simply return home for the night." He stood, feeling a rush of blood swarm to his head. He took a deep breath and the sensation abated.

"My wife and daughter will be sad to have missed visiting with you this evening, but of course, they will understand."

Mr. Hale walked him into the foyer where John picked up his hat and gloves. Dixon appeared with his coat which he shrugged into.

"Tomorrow is a market day as well." John chuckled. "More numbers."

"It is my hope you will feel more like yourself in the morning!"

"Good night, Mr. Hale." Before he turned toward the door, he heard a noise on the stairway behind them. "Hello, Miss Hale."

Lord, she was a beauty.

"You're leaving already, sir? Have I come late?" she asked.

"No, it is entirely my fault," he answered. "My head is not in my studies this evening."

"He is not feeling well, Margaret," Mr. Hale said.

"Oh, I am sorry to hear that. May I fetch you something before you leave?"

Her concern was genuine, and as she descended the rest of the stairs and neared him standing at the door, he found himself wavering, wanting to stay and allow her to care for him. How odd. He could not recall the last time he had looked at a woman with interest.

"No, I thank you, Miss Hale. I will return Thursday. Good evening." He tipped his head and walked outside the door.

"Good evening, Mr. Thornton." Her voice quietly trailing after him.

Cold air slapped him in the face. Perhaps that is what his head would benefit from, fresh air. Well, as fresh as the air in Milton could ever be. His walk back to Marlborough Mills was slower than usual. It seemed the faster he walked the harder his head pounded. Fortunately, he rarely got these serious headaches, but when he did, they were rough.

As soon as the gates of Marlborough Mills came into sight, he felt the muscles in his neck relax. Only a few more steps and his head could rest on his pillow. He opened the front door of the mill house himself, but soon Jane, the maid, was in the foyer, collecting his gear. Once divested of the extra clothing, he went upstairs and stopped in his mother's sitting room.

"Good evening, Mother."

She had a book open in her lap, but he thought she might have been napping.

"John! How do you come to be home so early tonight?"

He chuckled. So many people concerned with his well-being.

"I have a bad headache. I could not focus upon my studies tonight, so I begged Mr. Hale's forgiveness and left him early."

"Would you like some willow bark tea?"

He shook his head and picked up the stack of mail resting on the table inside the sitting room door. He tossed it back on the table, his vision too blurry to read.

"Did you by chance see Mrs. Hale this evening?" she asked.

"I did not."

"Oh."

"Why do you ask?" he wondered.

"I met her for the first time today. She is rather… timid."

"I believe you are right," he agreed.

"I wondered if she joined you this evening as she had following your studies last time? When she and Miss Hale left, she looked quite wrung out."

"I ended too early for the ladies to join us this evening."

"She and Miss Hale seem quite different from each other."

"Much like you and Fanny?" he grinned.

"Not quite. Miss Hale appears to be much more confident than her mother. Indeed, Mrs. Hale was rather frail. I do not believe she said more than ten words the entire time we were together at the Donaldson's house."

He thought back to the last meeting he had with Mrs. Hale.

"She is very quiet. I wonder if she is uncomfortable near people she is not acquainted with?"

"Perhaps." His mother shrugged and then sighed deeply. "It is hard to befriend someone who is not interested in having a friend."

"I imagine so," he said. "Miss Hale and her father are both welcoming."

"Miss Hale did rather well for herself with the sewing ladies today. In truth, I was proud of her, not that I have a right. She even took on Mrs. Latimer without backing down."

"Truly?"

His mother laughed. "It was entertaining. Add to that she is very talented with her needle and drawings; I do find her quite acceptable."

"Acceptable?" he asked, raising his brows.

"Yes." She nodded. "I think she will be an asset to Milton. I would be willing to help her settle into Milton, if she needs any assistance. In my opinion, her mother has no interest in becoming a part of this community."

"Perhaps in time she will change her mind. I do not believe Mr. Hale will choose to leave Milton anytime soon!" He leaned forward and kissed her head. "Good night, Mother."

John was not willing to talk about the Hales any more this evening. He had other things on his mind, like the cotton auction in the morning, the possibility of a strike looming and his pounding headache.

He changed quickly into his night attire, pleased the maids had drawn the bed back for him and stoked the fireplace. Crawling into bed, he hoped he would simply pass out, but instead of seeing blackness, he saw only the concerned face of Miss Hale offering to soothe his aching head.