"Truth is so rare, it is delightful to tell it"
-Emily Dickinson
Chapter Five
Margaret had a simple plan for her Wednesday. She wished only to unpack the boxes in her bedroom and create a place where she could draw and write her letters without being disturbed. She had accomplished the creation of an organized home for the rest of her family, but she left her own comforts for last. Rejoining her parents added great responsibility to her life. She wondered how they even functioned without her. Neither seemed capable of making a even the most simplest of decisions. Thank goodness for Dixon. She had kept the household from falling apart the years Margaret had lived in London.
Within in the new house, the rooms had been divvied up before their furniture had arrived from Helstone. Her father had both a bedroom and his study. Her mother was given the largest bedroom, which enabled Margaret to split the spacious room into two distinct areas for her mother; the sleeping area and a sitting spot. At some point, Margaret would locate a screen of some sort to truly divide the areas. If her mother refused to come downstairs, Margaret would do as she could to make her room comfortable. Dixon disagreed, thinking the more uncomfortable, the more likely her mistress would be to join the family downstairs. Margaret did not know what the right answer was, but perhaps the longer her mother was here, the more accepting she would become.
One could hope.
About half passed ten, the doorbell jingled and a minute or so later, Dixon came to collect Margaret.
"Sergeant Snipes is calling, Miss Margaret," the maid said. "Mr. Hale is out, and your mother…"
Margaret did not need further clarification. Her mother had yet to rise and even if she were awake, Snipes would be the last person Margaret would want her to see.
Margaret sighed. "Tell him I will meet with him." It was not as if she had a choice in the matter. A man had been murdered on her back steps.
Once Dixon left, Margaret rose from her sitting position on the floor. She clapped the dust off her hands and her skirt before descending the stairs. Her stomach knotted; worried what Snipes had to tell her. She did not want to keep the Sergeant waiting, and yet she wished to delay the meeting, fearful of what he had to say. She took a deep, calming breath before entering the sitting room; her skirts swished as she joined Snipes.
Snipes was looking through the books on one of her father's bookshelves, but turned as she came in. His look turned serious when he met her eyes.
"Good day, sir." She greeted him with a smile, hoping it might soften the man's countenance.
"Hello, Miss Hale." He tipped his head in greeting. "Your maid said your father is out?"
"He is," she confirmed with a slight nod. "He tutors daily at all different times, but always this time of the morning."
"Yes. I do recall you said that," he answered. "I will only take up a bit of your time. I must review your story, and that of your maid before I finalize my report. I also have had a sketch drawn up to be placed in the newspapers so we might identify the man. I would like you and your maid to verify that the man in the sketch is the man you saw on your back steps."
"I will do whatever is needed to help, Sergeant. Please, do have a seat." She waved toward the chair her mother occupied when she was kind enough to join the family downstairs.
"Thank you for your willingness to help. This has likely been a difficult situation for you." Once she was seated across from him, he sat. "Did you happen to recall anything new since Monday when we visited?"
She shook her head. "I told you everything I knew at that time."
He smiled kindly. "That was quite the day for you."
"It was," she agreed.
"May I review your story with you?" He pulled a file from under his arm and began pulling papers from it.
"Of course," she answered. She relaxed against the back of the chair and folded her hands in her lap, waiting for his questions.
He pulled a pair of spectacles from the breast pocket of his uniform coat. He looked up. "I would like to speak with Miss Dixon as well, if you will allow it?"
"Of course," she repeated. She wanted to conclude this situation as quickly as could be.
He looked down at his papers. "The truth of these details is vital, Miss Hale. If you are uncertain about something do not state it as fact. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir. I have no reason to lie."
He stared hard at her and the looked down at his papers. "You arrived at my office Monday morning to report a dead man on your back steps. You were accompanied by Mrs. Williams, who lives just down the street from this residence." He named her address.
With a pause, he glanced up.
"Yes," she agreed.
He looked back down at his lap where the papers neatly rested. "We, myself and three other officers, whose names I have listed here, came to your house and found the man in the back, dead, just as you reported. You explained to me your maid was headed to the market out the back door and she screamed. You were here in this room and went to see what she was screaming about."
He paused again.
"Yes."
"You told me you saw him bleeding from his neck and almost immediately slammed the door, went back inside the house, and sat on a chair at the table because you felt ill. Miss Dixon was already back in the kitchen by that time. You asked Miss Dixon to go to my office, she refused, so you went on foot. Only you and Miss Dixon saw the dead man, but you did tell Mrs. Williams about him before you arrived at my office. Your father was out tutoring a student, and he had left approximately two hours earlier through the front door. You did not open either the front or back door that morning prior to your maid's scream. Your mother was still in her room, had not come downstairs and she did not see anything."
"She still does not know," Margaret whispered. "She is in very low spirits, struggling to settle in here."
"I am sorry to hear that," Snipes said. His expression showed genuine concern. "I hope that will soon change."
"I do as well."
"And you, Miss Hale?" he tilted his head. He looked different with his spectacles, older perhaps. "Are you settling?" His stare was a bit unsettling. Did he really care how she was doing or was he simply being polite?
She slowly nodded. "My father and I are becoming more comfortable, I believe. It is quite a change from the society of London and rustic Hampshire." She shrugged. "He and I are adjusting the best we can. My father has secured nearly a dozen students already. The steady income will calm worries. The house is almost fully unpacked. I am hopeful my mother will find some pleasure in living here, once we understand all Milton has to offer."
He stared at her several more moments. Did he wish to say something? Had she overshared? Instead of commenting, he merely nodded thoughtfully, and returned his focus to the business at hand. "Upon our arrival, the officers and I carefully studied the scene and then the man's body was wrapped and taken away in a wagon to the morgue. There was no real evidence save his body itself. Need I repeat his cause of death?"
She sighed and bent her head to study her hands resting in her lap. "His throat had been slit," she whispered.
Snipes cleared his throat. "It was a straight cut. If it gives you comfort, he likely died quickly."
"I suppose if one must die, a quick end is best." How silly that sounded! She met the sergeant's eyes. "I have prayed for him and his family."
"As to that. We do not have a name for the man, much less a local family reporting a missing person. He was, however, wearing military issued britches and boots, although his shirt and coat were not provided by the government."
"Military?" She frowned. "I have not seen any soldiers since coming here."
"They are not stationed here," Snipes answered. "When there is a need- a riot or strike for example, we must call for them. The nearest barracks are at Liverpool. He had nothing on his person which identified him. He carried no money."
"How sad that is. No one has reported his disappearance." She frowned. "If he were a military man would he not be missed?"
Her thoughts drifted to her older brother, Frederick, who was not only missed by the military, but actively dodging a warrant for his arrest. There would certainly be no mention of him here in Milton. In fact, she had not heard his named uttered by any of her family in years. Dear Frederick.
"Unless the man was on leave, yes he would be reported as missing. We have contacted Liverpool but as of now, no one is unaccounted for." He thumbed through his papers and handed her a crisp sheet. "Here is the sketch I had drawn up. I wanted to show you and your maid before it goes into the paper tomorrow morning. I will send it on to London as well."
She took the page from Snipes' hand and glanced down. The sketch was from the shoulders up, and did not show the injury he had suffered. Although she had seen him for only a short minute on that fateful day, the dead man's visage had been burned in her mind.
"May I alter this?" she asked. "His lips and nose are not quite right." She stood to fetch a pencil from her father's desk in the corner.
Snipes snorted. "The artist was literally looking at the man as he drew the picture."
She frowned back at the Sergeant. "That does not signify! Not every artist has the same skills. If you and I were to look at a…" she shrugged, "at a flower, for example, you and I would not come up with an identical sketch. Some people are more skilled than others."
He chuckled. "Fair enough. Have at it." He waved her on.
She sat at her father's desk and got to work altering the picture. She widened the man's upper lips into the shape of a bow and created a bend in his nose, where he had certainly broken it. It had healed at a crooked angle. Subtle, perhaps, but she had noticed it. She added faint lines to the sides of his eyes and a little scruff to the heavy sideburns. The artist had a talent for eyes, she acknowledged, and she left them just as they were depicted. When she was satisfied, she walked back to where Snipes remained seated, reading through his notes. She handed him the picture.
He looked down and then up again. "Brilliant," he breathed. "I cannot say precisely what you changed but this is a much better likeness."
She nodded. "Thank you. I enjoy drawing."
"You have a talent. How you can remember what he looked like after such a short time is nothing short of incredible."
"It is not every day a person sees a dead body." She sighed. "I have a good memory for faces."
He stared at the drawing for several more minutes as if looking for a flaw and then removed his glasses and looked up at her. "Have you any other questions, Miss Hale?"
She shook her head and grinned. "It was you who came to ask me the questions."
He chuckled again. He put his glasses back in his breast pocket. "Just so. My questions have all been answered. To reiterate, you promise this to the be the truth as you best know it?"
"Indeed." Margaret nodded rapidly. "That is precisely what occurred Monday morning."
"Very good," he said. "Now, I suppose I must ask your maid to recount her tale."
"I'll send her in with tea."
He stood. "Thank you, Miss Hale. If I uncover more information, I will be certain to share it with you if I am able to do so."
"I would appreciate that consideration." She held out her hand, which he shook. "Please remember my mother is not aware of any of this and I would like to keep it that way."
"It will be in the newspaper tomorrow," he reminded her.
Her heart skipped a beat. "Surely not our address?"
"No, of course not." Snipes shook his head. "I am hoping this neighborhood will not even be mentioned, only that he was found dead and we are looking for his identity."
"Yes, that would be for the best. The least amount of information, the better. I shall fetch Dixon for you, sir. Good day to you."
She found Dixon in the kitchen, chewing her nails, waiting for her turn with Snipes. Margaret sent her to the officer with tea and cakes. She followed the maid down the hallway, and then instead of going in the sitting room, Margaret climbed the stairs instead. She went into her room and picked up where she had left off an hour earlier. She hoped her room would be set by the time her father came home from his tutoring that evening. Perhaps then she could begin to look at Milton as her new home.
The sound of heavy boots in the hallway leading to his office at the mill distracted John from the pile of invoices sitting atop his desk. He and Williams were to attend the weekly textile auction that afternoon, and he was waiting for his overseer to join him. On a typical Wednesday, Williams did a final round of the floor and sheds and then he met John in the office for their departure. His dear mother took his place on Wednesdays, and the other days when he was forced to be absent from the mill. Some of the female workers were intimidated by him, but they often shared their concerns with his mother who was almost as capable as he was of running the mill.
Williams rapped on the glass window and then opened the door without waiting for permission to enter. It was his office as much as it was John's. John stood and pulled his frockcoat off the back of his desk chair, expecting to be quickly on his way to the Exchange.
"Mr. Thornton, you have a visitor, sir."
John turned to see who Williams was talking about. His face fell. "Miss Latimer. What brings you here?"
She moved forward smiling. "I brought lunch for us to share." She lifted the covered basket she carried in her hands.
Williams gestured with his head, asking John wordlessly if he should leave. John widened his eyes and shook his head. Williams grinned, understanding he was needed as a chaperone for John and Miss Latimer
"How very kind of you," John said, shrugging into his coat. "It is unfortunate you have come on a Wednesday, Miss Latimer. Wednesdays are the textile auction at the Exchange. I am sorry to say Mr. Williams and I are just now leaving for it."
Her smile wavered ever slightly. "Can you not go later?" She glanced over her shoulder at Williams. "Perhaps Mr. Williams could go now and you might join him later?"
"I am afraid not. I am the only one who spends the money of Marlborough Mills," he said. He stepped around the desk, hesitant to get too close to her. She tended to grab his arm when he least expected it. "I know Fanny is at home. She would certainly enjoy spending the afternoon with you."
Her expression had changed into a pout. She glanced quickly at Williams, who turned his back on them and faced the hallway. "But it was you I wanted to spend time with, Mr. Thornton."
"Today is not a good day, Miss Latimer. My free time is always very limited when the mill is in operation."
She snorted. "I believe you could make time if you wished to, Mr. Thornton." She tipped her chin up.
He refused to be goaded into a response.
"You may walk me to the mill house," she said.
Damn if she didn't grab his arm. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to not pull away. She was a nice woman; he simply had no interest in pursuing any sort of relationship with her. Fanny enjoyed her company, he did not.
"Very well." He sighed. "Williams are you ready to depart?"
His overseer nodded and after John shut the office door, the three of them headed down the hallway and then the back stairs which led to the mill courtyard. It was always a hive of activity until the lunch bell, which would sound shortly. After the bell to resume mill activities sounded, his mother would be in her position on the walkway, overlooking the looms. They had created an orderly system… as long as none of the machines decided to break down.
"Are you going to the concert on Friday evening?" Miss Latimer asked him.
"Yes, I agreed to escort Fanny." He did not care for the Opera, but Fanny loved the performances. It was one of the extravagances he allowed his sister.
"Excellent." Miss Latimer squeezed his arm. "I shall be there as well. Perhaps I can sit with Fanny."
They reached the door of the mill house, just beyond the courtyard. He rang the bell, knowing the door would be latched. When Jane answered, he said, "Miss Latimer is here to see Fanny. Please tell my mother I am off to the Exchange."
The maid nodded quickly and moved aside for Miss Latimer to enter, who looked back at him with a coy smile. He nodded his head at both Miss Latimer and Jane and quickly moved down the path toward New Street.
Williams had walked on ahead and waited for John to join him.
"What the hell are you laughing at?" John demanded.
"I do not believe I have ever seen you blush."
"I did not!" John spat.
"Don't like to be the one chased, eh?" Williams asked. "That one looks like she's got you in her sights."
He said nothing for several minutes as they walked to the Exchange. Finally, he stopped, and Williams did the same. John sighed from deep within.
"I am in a fix," he admitted. "I cannot offend her, for her father is my banker. But I do not wish to lead her on, as I have no intentions toward her. She seems to have set her cap for me, as you noticed, and no matter how often I discourage her, and I do as often as I am able, she continues to pursue me." He ran a hand through his hair. "I am not used to women behaving in such a way toward me."
"Well now," Williams began, "you know I have six children, Mr. Thornton. If you were my son, in a similar predicament, I would tell you to find another woman. If Miss Latimer realizes you are not available to her, she will move along to some other bloke. It might take a bit, as she may try to fight for you, but in the end, it will be resolved. Her father cannot be offended, because you have found a different woman, and Miss Latimer knows your heart is engaged elsewhere."
"I cannot use a woman so deceptively," John said, shaking his head.
"Do you not know anyone who would play along as your companion until Miss Latimer has moved on? Explain it to the woman at the beginning that she need only pretend to be interested in you, and once Miss Latimer is well and attached elsewhere you can resume being a bachelor." Williams patted him on the shoulder. "Who knows, you may just fall in love."
They resumed walking and John took into account what Williams suggested. John was very inexperienced with woman. The idea of Miss Latimer chasing him was distasteful, but he had never taken an opportunity to form any lasting relationships with any woman. Work was his life. He provided a comfortable home for his mother and sister, and to him, that was all that had mattered.
Who would he even consider for such a lark? Miss Latimer knew almost all the women he did, as they moved in the same social circles. He could hardly choose a mill girl, the woman would have to have equal and respectable standing as his family in the community. His sister would have to be ignorant of the plan as she could not be trusted to keep even the tiniest of secrets.
Dare he ask his mother? The plan was insane, but might just be all that would work, as he could not afford to offend his banker, and certainly had no wish to be involved with Ann Latimer. Just imagining spending time alone with her sent a shiver of disgust up his spine. Fanny was determined to get him married to her friend, did everything to place them together as much as possible. The plan might just be mad enough to work. But what woman would be willing to be his partner in this charade?
His mother was already at the table the following morning when he went into breakfast. He closed the door after he entered the room. What he had been mulling over in his mind since the day before was nothing he would want to servants to know. He kissed her cheek just as he always did but instead of sitting at the other end of the table, he brought his plate next to her and sat down.
"What are you doing?" His mother asked.
"I have something I wish to discuss with you and do not wish for anyone to hear."
"Is something amiss?" She frowned before sipping her tea.
"No." He shook his head. "Not exactly. It is an embarrassing conversation, one that I could only have with you."
"Very well." She set her tea down and wiped the corners of her mouth with her linen napkin and then turned her full attention to him.
"Yesterday, Miss Latimer came to the mill at lunch time."
"Yes, I know." She nodded. "She met with Fanny. I overheard them discussing it."
He grimaced. "I must tell you I truthfully have no interest in Miss Latimer, Mother. I am in a rather difficult position, however. If I offend her, I likely offend her father, whom I rely upon for loans for Marlborough Mills as needed."
"Do you owe him a great deal?" she asked.
He shrugged. "I believe just at five hundred pounds."
She nodded. "That is not a large sum."
"No," he agreed, "but should I need more… should machinery break or something else disastrous beset us, I must know I can rely upon him for capital."
They stared at each other for a moment. He could tell she was considering options, just as he had done the day before.
"Shall I ask Fanny to stop being with Miss Latimer so much?" she asked.
"No." He shook his head. "I would not wish to deprive Fanny of her friend. Miss Latimer is a fine girl, but just not for me. With the help of Williams, I came up with a scheme."
"Williams? You have shared your concerns with him?" She was incredulous.
He chuckled. "He was there when she arrived yesterday. It was obvious she was seeking my attentions. She is not subtle, Mother."
"Well, what did he suggest?" she whispered.
John took a deep breath before shaking his head. "He thought if I began seeing another woman, Miss Latimer would understand my attentions are turned elsewhere and she would give up on me."
She twisted her lips in thought. "That would work, I am sure, but where will you find a suitable woman?" She raised her brows. "Perhaps you already have a woman in mind?"
He shook his head. "No, that is why I need your help. You well know I have never brought a woman home for your approval." He grinned. "I am rather confident around men, but when it comes to women who are not my employees, I fear I struggle. Is there someone who you feel might be willing to pretend to be my woman?"
She laughed then. "Why must she pretend? Why can you not court someone proper?"
He colored. "I suppose I could. I have yet to meet anyone I would consider courting."
"No one?" she asked.
He shook his head.
"Not even someone recently moved to Milton?" She raised her brows.
Who had just moved… The Hales!
"Margaret Hale?"
She nodded. "Perhaps." She shrugged. "I like her. She is honest. She is also very pretty, and well bred."
"Too well bred," he said. Her breeding was so far above him, even considering her was foolish. "I think she is too far above me, Mother. Her mother was raised as an aristocrat, her father is the youngest son of an earl."
"Why does that make her superior to you? You are a fine man with talents and skills that breeding does not create. You understand and possess proper behavior, I made certain of that even when we were in the direst of circumstances. Indeed, my son, I believe you are quite compatible with Miss Hale, but if you are not interested in her…"
"I find her very lovely and everything a woman should be," he interrupted. "I simply do not know if she would approve of such a scheme. I am fairly certain her mother would not encourage this match."
"Mrs. Hale is a difficult woman for me to understand. However, Miss Hale is very different from her mother. Perhaps she would enjoy being courted by you, or receiving your attentions. You need not tell her why, simply see if she is interested in knowing you better."
"How do I go about that?" he asked. He was at a loss where to begin with such a fine woman. How did he go about explaining his interest in her?
"You simply ask if she would like to go somewhere with you. A walk perhaps would be a good start? Have Fanny go along as chaperone. If you tell Fanny that you are interested in Miss Hale, word will get to Miss Latimer quickly and then you will not have to say a word to the girl about your aversion to her. Her father will not blame you for having a different lover, and Ann will find someone else to become attached to. She has only been back from Switzerland for a short time. You were the first man on her father's list of potential husbands. As you know there are far more men in this city than woman. Especially woman of quality. She will find another."
A knock sounded at the door and his mother told the maid to enter. In her hand, she carried a letter and a newspaper. She handed both to John, bowed her head and retreated, shutting the door closed behind her.
"Who is the letter from?" his mother asked.
"Mr. Bell." He did not receive many personal letters, and recognized Mr. Bell's bold script. "He mentioned he would be coming this month. I imagine he is giving me advanced warning."
John set the letter aside and instead glanced down at the newspaper. He unfolded it and was surprised to see a sketch of the dead man found at the Hale's home on the front page. He showed his mother.
"This man was found in Crampton on Monday. A murder if you can believe it."
Her surprise showed on her face. "In Crampton? Oh my, how horrible. Do the Hales know about it?"
"Yes, I told them to be careful. They installed extra latches on their doors. Mr. Hale is often gone, so the women are home alone." He would not disclose that the man had been found outside the Hale's home. "I must clarify. I do not believe they have told Mrs. Hale about the incident. They are very cautious of her sensitivities."
His mother chuckled. "If they were not so cautious with the woman perhaps she would become stronger. She would have no choice."
He shrugged. He thought there was more to the story of Mrs. Hale than he knew.
She continued studying the newspaper. "It says his identity is unknown."
He finally dug into his breakfast, realizing he needed to get moving to the mill. "They found nothing on him. No money, no identification, nothing."
"Robbery then?" she asked. She folded the paper and set it beside her plate. "I know I have never seen him. He looks rough. Perhaps he worked at one of the other mills, but what was he doing in Crampton?"
John shrugged. "I cannot say. I do hope for his family, if nothing else, he can be identified."
She pushed her plate forward. "Would you like me to invite Miss Hale for dinner tomorrow? I can contrive a reason, perhaps something about her needlework?"
"No, thank you. I will consider it throughout the day and if I decide to proceed, I shall speak with her this evening.
