"Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall."

-Proverbs 16:18

Chapter Six

Margaret had reached her breaking point. She had asked nicely. She had then pleaded. Finally, she begged. Yet, no matter how she approached her mother about attending the sewing meeting, she continued to refuse.

"Why must you be so bloody difficult?" Margaret screamed. "You gave it but one chance!"

Her mother's face showed shock at Margaret's caustic tone, but she refused to say anything.

"Mama. We are here in this dirty, sooty, gray town." Her voice was firm, her posture ridged. "It is where father brought us. It is perhaps where God has sent us. Have you even considered that? There could be a greater reason we have been sent here." Margaret shook her head and continued packing her sewing bag. "It matters not, why. We must associate with those around us. We must mingle if we are to ever feel truly settled. I have worked quite diligently with Dixon to get this house just as you and Papa wanted it. That is all I can do. You must make an effort to do the rest."

Margaret buttoned her bag closed and stared at her mother's profile. Was anything Margaret was saying making a difference to the stubborn woman?

"I shall go by myself," Margaret declared. "I will not tell Papa, but I hope you do."

Margaret left her mother's bedroom, walked down the stairs and set her bag down as she picked up her heavier woolen cloak hanging by the door. Oh, she was mad! She punched her arms inside the sleeves and then wrapped a scarf around her neck before pulling on woolen mittens. Dixon had warned of the drop in temperature, and she even thought it felt like snow. How she felt snow, Margaret could not say, but the maid was usually correct so Margaret dressed for the possibility.

She grabbed her bag, and with a final look up the stairway, hoping her mother had felt guilty enough to join her, she sighed forlornly, slid the slat aside at the front door, unlatched the lock and walked outside. She closed the door behind her with a hard pull, hoping Dixon would lock the door behind her. Papa was gone out with a student, leaving her mother and Dixon alone.

Fuming, Margaret marched down the road that led out of Crompton and eventually intersected with New Street. It was a hike, Margaret admitted, but she was so angry she knew the distance would remove her frustration before meeting with the fine ladies of Milton. Two days a week was all Margaret had asked of her mother. Two hours, two days a week. Papa even told them to hire a carriage for the trip to make it easier for her mother's travel and still she refused!

She reached New Street and waited patiently for carriages to pass by before she dared cross the road. Her anger was subsiding, replaced by an odd excitement to see the women again. Margaret was anxious to learn as much as she could about Milton, knew that these ladies were likely aware of everything happening in the city, and would help her find her way. At least most of them had been welcoming. Only Mrs. Latimer, the banker's wife seemed rather hostile.

She crossed the street and continued on her journey. She was relieved to realize there were but only three blocks to go until she reached the Donaldson's house. She knew they switched houses each week and wondered how far away the Hampers lived. Mrs. Hamper was the next hostess. Did they live at their mill like the Thorntons? Margaret would have to obtain directions before leaving today.

She thought she was running late, but two women had just arrived ahead of her. The butler was waiting at the door for her when she rushed up the walkway smiling. She was a bit sticky from her walk, and a huge gust of heat met her as she entered the Donaldson's home, making her even more uncomfortable. She quickly divested of her mittens and scarf and stuffed them in the sleeves of her cloak. She removed her hat and once free of all of the outer gear, she was feeling much better. She glanced in the gilded mirror outside the sitting room, straightened her hair, picked up her bag and entered the room where the other woman had already started their visiting.

She sat in a different spot this time. The fluffy cat gave her a curious stare, wondering perhaps if Margaret would dislocate her again. Once Margaret sat, the cat resumed its position with its head on its paws and closed its gorgeous blue eyes. Several women were missing, most notably Mrs. Thornton and the conceited Mrs. Latimer.

"Your mother did not join you today, my dear?" Mrs. Slickson asked. Her eyes were on the door, her hand, holding a needle and thread, was suspended in midair.

Margaret shook her head. "Not today."

She hoped no one would press her for the reasoning, as she refused to lie for anyone, and to say 'Mama thinks she is better than you ladies,' might be a tad insulting.

"Oh, that is too bad," Mrs. Hamper said. "Perhaps she will be able to come Tuesday when I play hostess? I always look forward to having you ladies." She was not a particularly good-looking woman, but when she smiled, a dimple appeared in her cheek.

Margaret relaxed, satisfied that no one else would say anything about her mother.

"Rupert is coming to take orders today!" Mrs. Lewis said, speaking of her son who owned the sewing shop in town. She turned toward Margaret just as she poked her first stitch through the linen. "He comes one time each month and then delivers at the following meeting unless he needs to order something special."

"And you pay him when he delivers," Mrs. Hamper explained. She winked at Margaret, making her smile and immediately endearing herself to her.

"I would like to see his shop," Margaret said. She had done very little shopping, even window browsing since coming to Milton. "Perhaps tomorrow I can stop. Must I make an appointment?"

"Oh no!" Mrs. Lewis shook her head. "He has regular hours. I know some London shops require an appointment but that is not how he runs his business."

Margaret nodded, immediately excited at the prospect of touching silks and satins and seeing a store full of color and patterns.

"Speaking of tomorrow," Mrs. Donaldson began, "I was curious if you, Miss Hale, would like to help with a project we do at church."

"What sort of project?" Margaret asked, immediately curious.

Just then, Mrs. Thornton joined them. Mary Donaldson rushed to welcome the newcomer just as she had Margaret. Mrs. Thornton chose the chair next to Margaret, who greeted her warmly. As soon as everyone had settled back down and into their projects, the door opened again, this time Mrs. Latimer entered making a loud, grand entrance.

Margaret's stomach clenched. She did not like the woman. Although Margaret had encountered far worse in London, she had yet to find such people here in Milton. Milton people were real, no false façade or veneer. Her father said they were proud and humble, and she thought he was right.

"Now then, Margaret," Mrs. Donaldson continued. "Our sewing group provides charity food baskets each week for the needy of our parish. I saw you and your father at services last week, and I am hopeful you will continue to attend church?"

"Yes, of course. I have grown up in the church and I do not expect anything to change that."

Mrs. Donaldson clapped with a smile. "Marvelous! Well, then, we assemble baskets on Friday afternoon for homebound parishioners, and Saturday afternoon to be picked up by families on Sunday following the services."

"You do this each week?" Margaret asked. Her father had an alms box from which he could divvy out money as needed for the poor.

"Yes. It is so wonderful to help the less fortunate of Milton, and our church community, especially." Mrs. Hamper nodded without looking up from her stitching.

"We all bring food to the church on Fridays and some of us stay and make up the Friday baskets and others come on Saturday and make the rest. We need only three for tomorrow, but twenty-four for Saturday." Mrs. Donaldson frowned. "If I added correctly."

"Someone delivers the Friday baskets to the Princeton district," Mrs. Thornton said. "I choose not to deliver as many of my son's employees live there and it might be a bit uncomfortable for them to accept charity from us."

Did they not know where the food came from? Margaret wondered. Surely, they were astute enough to look around the church and see who was in attendance and wealthy enough to donate their extras?

"I thought perhaps you might go with me tomorrow, Margaret," Mrs. Donaldson said. "You mentioned last time that you enjoy walking, and there is a spot on the edge of Princeton with a green area. It is just a small space, but maybe it with bring you some pleasure? Also, two of the baskets go to ladies just your age. Perhaps they will enjoy visiting with you. Being homebound, they do not see many people."

She looked around the circle of women and realized everyone was looking at her. She wanted to laugh. Was this some sort of initiation to the sewing circle. It seemed they were all holding their breath to see how she would respond. She bit the inside of her lip to prevent a hoot of laughter. "I would be pleased to help you, Mrs. Donaldson," she answered with a smile.

"It does not take much of your time," Mrs. Thornton said. "It does seem to make a difference for many families."

Margaret had helped many in Helstone over the years. She would collect clothing for the needy, especially coats when the weather turned foul. In London, her Aunt Shaw was always generous at Christmas for the orphan home.

"Can you meet me at the church about three tomorrow?" Mrs. Donaldson asked her.

"I can, yes." Margaret nodded.

"I am not certain how safe it is to be walking alone right now," Mrs. Latimer said. "Did you ladies see the picture of the dead man in the paper this morning?" She clicked her tongue. "What is this world coming to?"

"I saw it," Mrs. Thornton said. "My son tells me it is rare for such a thing to occur. He believes we are all quite safe."

"Being a Magistrate, I am certain Mr. Thornton would know best." Mrs. Latimer gave what Margaret thought was a condescending smile to Mrs. Thornton. "Well, I for one, will not be walking outside alone until they apprehend the murderer," Mrs. Latimer said.

"I could not believe the picture was only a sketch," Mrs. Hamper said. "Why, it was so well done, I thought it was a picture taken by that daguerreotype machine. It was so vivid."

Inside, Margaret puffed with pride. Of course, she could not admit to the ladies she had been the one to do the drawing, but the fact that the ladies did not know it was Margaret's drawing made the compliment all the sweeter. She did smile, she could not help it. She had not shared her work with very many people, and today, hundreds had seen it.

"He looked quite rough, like those dock workers in Liverpool," Mrs. Slickson said. "My husband did not recognize him."

The other ladies agreed that their spouses had never seen him before.

"Do most mill masters know all their employees?" Margaret asked quietly. "Are there not hundreds of workers at each mill?"

Mrs. Thornton was the first to answer. "The master may not know the name, but he will know a face. The overseers would know both name and face as they dole out the weekly pay."

"Let us discuss something more pleasant, shall we?" Mrs. Donaldson suggested. "Miss Hale have you heard about our upcoming balls?"

Margaret shook her head, a slight smile on her lips. She loved to dance and there had always been many opportunities in London for such entertainment.

"Beginning this month, Friday next as a matter of fact, we have monthly balls until April. It gives us all something to look forward to during these long, damp and dreary days."

"Where are they held?" Margaret asked.

"At our husbands' club," Mrs. Latimer said. She looked at Margaret with a hard eye.

"I see." Margaret understood well enough what the woman was saying. It was an exclusive club that she and her family were not part of. Fortunately, in London there were very few places she wished to go where she was not welcome. Here, she may have to adjust to being an outsider looking in. That chafed.

"Miss Hale," Mrs. Thornton said, "I would be happy to extend an invitation to you and your parents for the ball. I am certain my son would be pleased to sponsor your father as a new member of the club."

Margaret flashed Mrs. Thornton a bright smile. "That is very kind of you. I am not certain how my father would feel about joining. How would he fit in with businessmen?"

"Whatever do you mean, Miss Hale?" Mrs. Latimer spoke up again. "Does he feel superior to businessman?"

"Heavens no!" Margaret sputtered. Lord, she hated that woman. It was a sin to hate, but truly Mrs. Latimer was pushing Margaret toward the dark side. "My father was a clergyman, Mrs. Latimer. He does not imbibe, although holds no grudge against those who do, nor does he smoke. I simply meant I am not certain he would have enough in common to feel part of the group. I meant no offense."

"I understood perfectly what you meant," Mrs. Donaldson said. She patted Margaret's knee in a motherly gesture. "I thought my husband might struggle amongst the businessmen, but he holds his own. They meet each Wednesday evening."

"The mill masters have a dinner meeting before they all commune," Mrs. Slickson said. She chuckled. "It often becomes a very late night for all of them."

"Let us talk about the dances!" Mrs. Hamper smiled at her. "I do get so excited when they start up. Each month we have a different theme. This month, being November, we call it the harvest ball. Even though we do not have large amount of farming in the area, it seems to fit. We all wear dark tones, browns, deep purples, greens."

"It is just an assembly, as you would have in London," Mrs. Donaldson told Margaret. "The staff do provide drinks and punch and such, but not dinner."

"December is a rather busy month with the holidays, but, my son and I do host the Mill Master's Dinner," Mrs. Thornton said. "The following week is the Christmas Caper."

"Then, in January, we call the dance the Frosty Frolic," Mrs. Hamper giggled like a young girl. "February is the Sweetheart Soiree; March is Primavera Promenade, and April is the Winsome Whirl."

"What fun!" Margaret said, smiling at the excitement she felt coming from Mrs. Hamper and the others.

"Oh, it is, it is! Our daughters and sons enjoy attending as well. It gives us all a chance to mix and mingle." Mrs. Hamper said. "Our husbands all work such long days it is refreshing to see them relax, if for only an evening."

"This is a formal affair, of course, Miss Hale," Mrs. Latimer said. "We wear our very best gowns. Why, most of us purchase new gowns just for these occasions."

Margaret remained silent. She wanted to believe Mrs. Latimer was attempting to be helpful, but Margaret knew the truth. Mrs. Latimer was doing all she could to make Margaret feel inferior. She was the type of person who reveled in disparaging others so she could feel superior.

Margaret listened as the women continued chatting about their dresses, and those of their daughters. She occasionally smiled when it was warranted, but did not say another word. Soon, they turned to gossip. As Margaret did not know anyone of whom they spoke, it was easy to allow her mind to wander. Would her father wish to attend the ball? She was relatively certain her mother would refuse, but would her father be willing to escort her?

Her fancy dresses had been left in London. There was no need for such attire in Helstone, and Margaret had left them at Harley Street, thinking Edith could wear them or redo them with lace or fripperies to fit her needs. Could Aunt Shaw have them packed up and shipped to Milton by Friday next? If Margaret sent an express yet this evening it was possible, she supposed.

Just before four, when the meeting was scheduled to end, Rupert Lewis arrived. A tall, lanky, fair haired man, he wore a bushy moustache and long sideburns. He was dressed very well in a finely tailored suit and well starched cravat. He shook each lady's hand until he came to Margaret. Mrs. Donaldson quickly introduced them.

"It is a pleasure, Miss Hale. My mother mentioned you. You are from London?" He had a very pleasing voice with cultured tones, unlike many of the Northern men she had already met.

"I spent much of the year in London and summers in Helstone in the far south," she answered.

"Well, then you are likely accustomed to the finest of choices in fabrics." He smiled. "I hope I may offer you some comparable choices in my shop."

Margaret nodded. "I am anxious to see your store, Mr. Lewis."

"You must come then! Perhaps even tomorrow morning?" he suggested. He looked at the women, a wide smile showing off his perfect, white teeth. "All the others lovely ladies are well familiar with the store. I would be pleased to give you a tour."

"Is it that large?" she asked. "I have been to warehouses in the garment districts of London, but I understood your store was small?"

"Oh, no, Miss Hale." It was Mrs. Lewis who spoke up. "By Milton standards Threads is very large. Indeed, Rupert has anything you could possibly want for a sewing project."

"Wonderful," Margaret said. "I would be glad to visit tomorrow morning. I will wait until then to choose what I need."

Some of the other women got up to leave, as Rupert began to take orders. She decided it would be acceptable to leave herself, and thus, she bid thanks and goodbye to Mrs. Donaldson before collecting her outerwear from the maid at the front door.

"I will see you home, Miss Hale," Mrs. Thornton whispered. "Come along."

Margaret was too surprised- and thankful- to argue, she followed silently behind Mrs. Thornton like a puppy. Soon, they were in the Thornton carriage on their way to Crampton.

"I have two questions for you," Mrs. Thornton said, with no preamble. "I did not wish to broach the topics in front of the others as they are personal, home questions. Will you answer me honestly?"

Margaret paused for a moment. What could Mrs. Thornton ask that she could not answer? "Yes."

"Thank you." Mrs. Thornton nodded with a satisfied smile. "I appreciate honesty in all things, Miss Hale. Will you tell me why did your mother not accompany you today?"

When Margaret did not answer directly, Mrs. Thornton continued.

"My son confided in me that the man who was murdered, the one Mrs. Latimer brought up, was found in Crampton. John said you and your family were aware of this. I find it inconceivable that your mother allowed you to the Donaldson's house alone!"

Margaret swallowed. "My mother does not know of the death," she whispered. "We have all been treating her with kid gloves since coming here. She has become so fragile, so sensitive to everything."

"Did you father know you came alone?"

Margaret shook her head. "He knew I was coming today, of course, but he thought Mama would be joining me. He is likely just learning now that she remained home."

"Will you not tell me why she did not come? Was it too cold?"

Margaret laughed and shook her head. "My mother hardly leaves her room, Mrs. Thornton. She would have no idea if it were zero or one hundred degrees outside. No, that is not it." She sighed and looked away from Mrs. Thornton's stare. "Her spirits are so low. She is regretting many choices she made in her life. She is angry with my father for moving us here instead of taking a position in London."

"Why did he not accept that position?" Mrs. Thornton prodded.

That was a personal question. Margaret quirked her brow. "Is that to be your second question?"

Mrs. Thornton grinned back. "No. You are a sassy one, are you not?" She chuckled. "My second question is whether or not you have a gown for the ball."

"I do," Margaret said. "Unfortunately, it is packed away in a trunk in London. I am hopeful my aunt can get it sent to me in time. I will send a letter to her yet today."

"I am certain Fanny has something for you to wear," Mrs. Thornton offered.

"No." Margaret shook her head. "Thank you, kindly, but I will have a dress."

Mrs. Thornton looked doubtful. "Pride goeth before the fall."

"I have lost much in my move here, Mrs. Thornton." Margaret grimaced. "My pride is about all that I have left."

John and Mr. Hale had nearly reached the end of their studies for the evening. John had taxed his brain during this session. Although he had a fine memory from his school days, Mr. Hale was quickly uncovering the areas he was lacking. John finished translating a particularly rough patch of Latin and sat back from the table with a sense of relief.

Mr. Hale chuckled. "You are doing fine, Mr. Thornton, just fine."

John blew out a puff of air and then smiled. "It is getting harder each time."

"That is my intent," Mr. Hale said. "What would be the purpose if I was not making you work hard? We could have spent weeks in rote memorization but how boring would that be? This way you learn as you go, and as you know more than you think you do, this is the better way for me to instruct."

John nodded. "I hated the conjugations. The same words over and over and over." He laughed then, remembering the wiry little man who taught him Latin.

"Agreed! So, have we reached the end for tonight?" Mr. Hale asked.

John glanced at the ornate clock on the mantle. It was earlier than their usual eight o'clock stopping point, but he had something to speak with Mr. Hale about before Miss Hale joined them.

"I believe so," John answered. He closed his small book and stretched his arms above his head. He rested his hands flatly on the table and said, "I have something of a personal nature to ask of you."

"Oh?" Mr. Hale asked.

Today, John had practiced asking permission from Mr. Hale as he tied his cravat in front of the mirror. He believed he was confident enough to do so. "As you may know, my mother attends the same sewing ladies' group that Mrs. Hale and Miss Hale."

"Yes, Margaret mentioned your mother gave her a ride home today."

John nodded. "While with the ladies, Miss Hale has apparently expressed her interest in finding a park where she could walk. My mother said your daughter misses the trees and flowers from Helstone."

Mr. Hale nodded. "That she does. She was forever outside the vicarage in Helstone. It was hard to keep her inside." He smiled. "In London, too, I believe she spent much time walking the parks. She loves to sew and read but I think even those interests can become tedious without an opportunity to be engaged in other activities like exercise."

"Yes, of course. Or employment. I wish I had more time to read for pleasure."

Mr. Hale nodded in understanding.

John continued, "The nearest green space is a short carriage ride on the edge of Milton. It is not the prettiest this time of year, but may bring her some pleasure. With your permission, Mr. Hale, I would like to escort her there on Sunday afternoon. My sister Fanny would join us as chaperone, of course."

Mr. Hale smiled. "I believe she would be pleased with this plan. You must ask her, of course, but I am happy to give you my consent."

John nodded, relieved. Since breakfast when his mother broached the idea of using Miss Hale to rid himself of the clinging interest of Ann Latimer, he had been unable to concentrate on much else. He had yet to decide if he wanted to court Miss Hale in truth, or only to be rid of Miss Latimer. He supposed much would depend on Miss Hale's reaction to his invitation.

"I will ask her this evening," John said, "if you will grant me a few moments of privacy with her?"

"Certainly, certainly. When she comes in, I shall go on an errand. I do not believe my wife will be joining us to visit this evening."

Mrs. Hale had been rather standoffish to both him and his mother. She had even snubbed his mother when she called with Fanny, but he could see Mr. Hale was troubled by her behavior.

"Is there something I could do to help Mrs. Hale settle in Milton?" John offered. "I am glad to help your family however I may."

Mr. Hale shook his grey head. Tonight, he looked careworn. "Only she can choose to accept Milton. Margaret has tried to get her involved, has tried to coax her outside." He shook his head again. "If things do not improve, I may send her to London to her sister's home for a time."

"This is the sister's home where Miss Hale lived?"

Mr. Hale nodded. "My wife grew up in London. She did not like Helstone at first, either, but grew accustomed to it." He shrugged. "It is an adjustment, but one I hope she will be willing to make."

After a quick rap, the door opened and Miss Hale entered carrying the usual tea tray. Tonight, there were biscuits and tarts, too. She smiled at her father and then turned to John. Lord, she was beautiful. Elegant, graceful, but without haughtiness or airs of superiority. He had never known a woman like her.

"Are you finished with your lessons or shall I return?" She continued her walk to the sitting area and set the tray on the table. She looked over her shoulder and then sat and carefully arranged her skirts around her on the settee.

"We are done for the evening, my dear," Mr. Hale told her. He stood, and after giving John a wink, he said, "Margaret, I must go fetch a book from my room for Mr. Thornton. Go ahead and start tea without me. I shall return shortly."

"Yes, Papa." She lifted the teapot and began to pour his cup.

Once Mr. Hale had left the room, John stood and joined her. He took the cup and saucer she offered him, and then sat next to her on the settee. Nervousness settled in the pit of his stomach. They had never been alone before, not even for a short time. He had decided earlier, on his walk to the Hale's Crampton home, if she declined his invitation, he would share his scheme to rid himself of Ann Latimer. If she agreed to go with him, he would pursue her in a true courtship. He waited to taste his tea until she set the teapot back on the tray.

"How are you this evening, Miss Hale?" he asked. How inane!

"Quite well," she answered. When she smiled her green eyes sparkled. "Thank you for asking."

"I trust you had a pleasant day with the sewing ladies?" he continued.

She chuckled. "I did." She sipped her tea and then added a little more sugar. You're your mill matters go smoothly?"

He matched her chuckle and nodded. Minutes passed in silence and he knew Mr. Hale would be back sooner than John would wish. He cleared his throat. "My mother has mentioned… that is, she suggested…" He swallowed the lump in his throat. She looked stunning this evening; the dark green dress accentuated the brilliant color of her eyes. "That is to say, I understand you are fond of parks and walking."

She nodded. "Indeed, I am."

"Good. I am an avid walker." He nodded, pleased his mother had been correct. "My mother suggested I introduce you to my favorite of Milton's few parklike areas. I thought, that is, if you were interested, we could fetch you Sunday afternoon at two o'clock?"

"We?" she asked.

"My sister and I," he clarified. Good Lord, had she though he meant his mother? "I thought you would be more comfortable with a chaperone."

"How considerate of you." She paused and his heart beat sped up. Would she say no? "I know your time is very limited, Mr. Thornton. I appreciate your willingness to spend some of it helping me get better acquainted with Milton." She nodded several times, then. "Thank you for the invitation. I would be pleased to accompany you and Fanny."

Relief flooded his body. She said yes! "I asked your father already," he added quickly. "He gave his consent."

"Then, it sounds as if it is all settled." She smiled again, although he could not understand if it was from happiness at the offer, or the awkward way he had presented it. "You must thank your mother for the suggestion."

"She has enjoyed coming to know you better," he said.

He was speaking too much about his mother, he realized. This was about what he wanted, not what his mother had suggested. He had used his mother as a buffer, uncertain a woman as fine as Miss Hale would consent to be seen with a rough industrialist with calloused hands. He had to be so different from the London man she would have met. He wondered then how old she was. She could not be more than two and twenty. Likely younger. Why had no one snatched her up in London? Foolish men.

"Your mother has been very kind." She picked up on his topic. "I myself am very pleased Dr. Donaldson suggested we attend the sewing group. It did not seem to have its' intended impact upon my mother, but I have enjoyed it thus far." She shrugged. "Shall I fill your cup?"

He nodded and held it forward. Although he maintained a firm grip upon the saucer, her hand cupped the side, essentially holding two of his fingers as well. Her hand was so wonderfully soft, so smooth. He looked up to see if she had any reaction to the touch or if she was simply pouring as she always did. Her face did have a delightful flush, but whether it was from their contact or the steam from the tea, he could not say. She was slow to move her hand away and as she did pull away, it felt like a caress. Oh yes, he thought, she knew exactly what she had done, and how that pleased him!

She filled her own cup and settled back against the settee. "The group is helping me better understand Milton." She paused, looking into her cup. "I will not lie and say I like all the women, but most have been very friendly and welcoming."

When she looked up at him, he nodded. "I am glad to hear it."

"They mentioned a monthly ball given by your club is to be held Friday next. I was wondering… that is…" she looked away from him. Lord, was she going to ask him to take her? He would of, course, but he would prefer to be the one asking. "Do you think my father would be welcome in such a club as yours?"

John laughed inside at his own foolishness. Of course, a proper girl would never ask a man to a dance! How foolish of him.

She was staring at him, and he remembered she had asked a question. He nodded quickly. "I do."

"As you likely have realized by now, Papa is quite reserved." She held his gaze. "Having been a clergyman, he is very… conservative. He does not drink or gamble."

He smiled, imagining what she thought happened at his club. "There is conversation to be had at my club, Miss Hale, not just drunken debauchery."

"I was not suggesting…" She flushed bright red. "Debauchery is a rather strong word." She dropped her voice. "I would not wish him to feel uncomfortable. He may have left the church but he is still a very Godly man."

"I understand what you are implying, Miss Hale." He sighed. "Some of the men are crass and may say uncouth things, but in general, it is just an opportunity to visit with one another. We all spend long hours with our businesses so the club offers us an opportunity to socialize. We talk about many subjects besides the mill works, subjects I believe your father would be interested in. We meet weekly, and yes, I do believe your father would fit in nicely." As long as John softened Slickson's perverted sexual comments and halts Watson's bragging about his many female conquests, Mr. Hale would feel very comfortable at the club.

Her smile widened. "I am so very glad to hear this. It would be beneficial for him to socialize with other men, rather than just the boys he sees daily."

"Am I not enough?" he teased.

Her eyes widened and she flushed again. "I did not mean…"

"I am jesting, Miss Hale." He smiled. "I agree. He would benefit from the male camaraderie."

"Is it very expensive to join?" she whispered.

He twisted his lips. He did not think it was, but that was based on his financial position. He was not completely aware of the Hale's finances.

"I found it, Mr. Thornton!" Mr. Hale rejoined them before John answered. He handed John a random book he must have located in his bedroom.

"Thank you." He accepted the book and placed it on top of the table next to the tea set. Margaret was too engaged in pouring tea for her father to look at it. It was a book of the Psalms. "I hope you did not go to too much trouble in locating it."

Mr. Hale shook his head and took a seat. "Not at all."

Miss Hale handed her father his tea.

"Margaret, I asked Mr. Thornton to extend my great thanks to his mother for seeing you home today. After the situation on our back steps, I am very hesitant to have her alone anywhere."

John nodded and glanced toward Miss Hale. "I can well understand, but, you must know that such crimes are very rare in this area."

"Mr. Bell would not have allowed us to settle in Crampton if that were not true." Mr. Hale said. "I have received word he is coming this week."

"Yes, I too received a letter from him. Just this morning, in fact." John said. "I both enjoy and dread his visits."

Miss Hale laughed. "Dread them? Mr. Bell is delightful. Why would you feel such a way?"

John smiled at her. Her laughter lit up her whole lovely face. Her eyes look alive, as if they had a mind of their own. The best thing about her reactions were that they were so honest. Nothing about her was fake or contrived.

"He is my landlord, Miss Hale. I dread the day may come when he says he must raise my rents."

"That I can understand, but surely he will give you warning?" She asked. Turning to her father, she said, "I suppose he is our landlord as well, Papa?"

"Indeed, he is, Margaret, but I believe we are safe from eviction." Mr. Hale winked at her.

She grinned and then finished her tea. John suddenly wanted her to look at him with the tenderness he saw in her eyes for her father. He swallowed hard. He had no idea how to court a woman properly. He had never bothered. His life was the tedious, organized, scheduled mill. Could he find room for a woman, and could he behave in such a way she might consent to continue seeing him after Sunday?