Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything.

-Plato

Chapter 8

"Are you truly interested or are you simply being polite?" Margaret asked Mr. Thornton, with a small grin.

"I would not have asked if I were not interested," he answered. He did not smile. He glanced away and then back at her as if the question made him uncomfortable. Perhaps she made him feel uncomfortable? He lowered his voice and leaned forward. "As you learn more about me, you will understand I am a rather quiet man, not given to wasting time discussing topics I find trivial or inconsequential."

They were standing near a wall of murals at the Lyceum hall. They were early, and enjoying a glass of wine before the music started. He had shown her several of the paintings he thought did a good job representing Milton, painted by local artists. Her feet were still paining her, but wearing a pair of her mother's larger shoes was helping. She hoped the discomfort was not obvious as she shifted her weight.

"Thank you for the clarification." She smiled wide. "I shall be certain to speak only of topics which entertain will you." She was teasing, of course, and hoped he would understand that rather than find her impertinent.

He took a sip of his wine, but she saw a sparkle in his eyes. He knew she was teasing. "I shall be pleased to listen to you, no matter the topic you introduce," he said, with gentlemanlike manners "I might not have many comments to add, however, I promise to always listen. That is polite is it not?" He quirked a brow.

Was he flirting with her? Dear Lord, perhaps he was interested in her?

"Quite polite." She tipped her head. "As the music will soon begin, I will only have sufficient time to tell you about the first house Mrs. Donaldson and I visited today," she said. "Do you recall the story of Hansel & Gretel, sir?"

He looked surprised. "The fairy tale?"

She nodded.

"Aye."

"Well, that will save me some explanation then. You see, the first house we visited was not made of candy, of course, but the woman who lives there reminded me of the old witch from the story." Margaret laughed. "Mrs. Donaldson knocked and we stepped back, to wait. Slowly, the door was opened, but only a slight crack. A gnarled, wrinkled hand reached out. Her nails were as long as my pinky, and she snatched the basket from my hand." Margaret punctuated the story with appropriate gestures.

He laughed loudly. How she liked that sound, but unfortunately it drew attention to them.

"Shh," she whispered, glancing around. "People are staring."

"Of course, they are, Miss Margaret Hale," he said. She noticed how his eyes suddenly darkened, an expression coming into their depths she could not identify. "You are the loveliest woman here tonight. They have been staring since we arrived."

She flushed. "That is not true," she argued, "but I thank you for the compliment all the same." She covered her embarrassment by sipping more wine.

"What is the rest of the story?" he prodded. "Surely that cannot be the end of it?

"No." She shook her head. "The old woman slammed the door in our faces, and I swear I heard her cackle." Margaret laughed. "As we left Princeton, we stopped back and picked up the basket hanging on her door. The lady had left us a small packet of herbs. Mrs. Donaldson said they work well for pain, and her husband uses them as a salve for his knees."

He leaned forward. "I am not certain I would trust such a gift from the woman you just described."

Margaret shook her head. "Neither would I."

"And was this basket the only delivery of the day?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head. "There were two others."

Fanny, Mrs. Latimer and a young woman who could only be Miss Latimer joined them then, disrupting their relative privacy. Margaret swallowed, preparing herself to be pleasant to the woman she so disliked. Perhaps her daughter, who had just completed finishing school, would surprise Margaret with a better disposition.

Fanny grabbed Margaret's hand. "Margaret, I would like you to meet my dearest friend, Ann Latimer."

"How do you do Miss Latimer?" Margaret bowed her head in greeting. "I am pleased to see you this evening Mrs. Latimer."

"You as well, Margaret," the elder woman said. "I thought I understood you would not be able to attend this evening? Yes, I distinctly remember you saying you were not even aware of this concert."

"I invited her, Mrs. Latimer," Mr. Thornton stated. His voice was firm. "Is your husband here this evening?"

"He is," she said. Looking over her left shoulder, she pointed. "He with the Slicksons."

Mr. Thornton looked at Margaret. "Have you met Mr. Slickson yet?"

"No." She shook her head. "I do know his wife, though."

"Come." He extended his arm. "I shall introduce you."

He excused them from the circle and led her away.

"This may not work out as I hope," he whispered. "I believe they will follow us."

She looked up at him grinning. Was he avoiding Fanny or the Latimer women?

He quickly introduced her to Mr. Slickson and Mr. Latimer. Mrs. Slickson stepped around her husband and took both Margaret's hands in hers and kissed her cheek in greeting.

"How glad I am you were able to come this evening!" she said.

"Thank you." She glanced at Mr. Thornton who was already involved in business discussions. "Mr. Thornton was kind enough to bring me," Margaret whispered.

Mrs. Slickson leaned forward. "I told my husband to take our extra ticket to the Thorntons. I had hoped his mother would suggest bringing you."

Margaret smiled kindly at the woman, even as her heart was falling to her stomach. Mrs. Thornton had interfered again. Margaret suddenly felt like a wallflower being introduced to men by well-meaning mamas. It was certainly considerate of Mrs. Thornton, she could not fault the woman for being helpful, but again, just as their engagement for walking out on Sunday, Margaret was confused whether Mr. Thornton chose to be with her, or if his mother had forced him into the decision. Was he a man who could be influenced by his mother?

The lights flickered and the musicians began to tune up their instruments. She turned to the stage and seating, curious where their tickets might be located. Fanny, Miss Latimer and her mother joined them. Mr. Slickson collected his wife, leaving Margaret alone to study the rest of the crowd. Behind her, she could hear Mr. Latimer still talking with Mr. Thornton and the girls giggling. Lord, how uncomfortable she felt.

She turned back around to see Ann Latimer hanging on both Fanny and Mr. Thornton. He seemed oblivious to the girl's attention as he spoke with her father. How queer. Fanny pulled away.

"We should find a seat," Fanny said. "Come with me Margaret." She grabbed her hand. "We shall hold seats for the others."

"No, just a moment, Fanny," Mr. Thornton said. "We shall come at once."

They waited for the gentlemen to finish their conversation and as a group of six, they moved toward the seating area. Mr. Thornton discretely touched Margaret's elbow, stopping her progress. She turned to look at him.

He leaned down and whispered, "Please, sit next to me."

She met his ice blue eyes and nodded.

Mr. Latimer chose a row which would accommodate all of them. He entered the row, followed by his wife. Miss Latimer, however, paused. Margaret saw her gaze turn toward Mr. Thornton, but he was looking away, nodding at an older couple who had just entered the area. Miss Latimer's frustrated sigh was forceful enough to ruffle Fanny's hair, as she passed her to sit next to her parents. Fanny sat next to Miss Latimer and then, with a light touch on her waist, Mr. Thornton guided Margaret to her seat.

"I always must sit on the end," he whispered.

"Why is that?" she asked. "For a quick get away?"

He smiled. "You may have noticed my legs are rather long." She watched him stretch them out. "I cannot abide being in cramped spaces."

"It serves as good defense as well, Mr. Thornton." She leaned closer to him. "If we are attacked by discontented concert goers, they will get to you before me."

His face showed uncertainty. When she smiled, he laughed. Had he thought she seriously believed they would be attacked? How was it she felt so comfortable with him? She had not spent time with him apart from her father and yet they seemed quite compatible and easy with each other. She liked him; quite a bit if she were to be honest with herself. He was quite a remarkable man, a true leader in Milton.

She turned away then and primly rested her hands in her lap. She would simply enjoy the evening for what it was, and not read more into his invitation. Perhaps she was here at the request of his mother, but maybe… just maybe, she was here because he wanted to be with her.

John turned to study Miss Hale as the music began. She wore a rapt expression on her lovely face, clearly enjoying the tenor's voice. It was sung in Italian, just as Fanny had suggested it would be, so he could not understand what the music was about, but it did not matter, the song and the man's voice were deep and moving.

As her eyes drifted shut, a small smile appeared on her full rosy lips. She was a beauty for certain, and he had not been exaggerating about all the men at the Lyceum staring at her. They were curious, as he would have been, who the new woman was. At intermission, he was certain many men who had not spoken with in months would come to receive an introduction. And soon, she would be passing in their social circle. He knew she would fit in with his social set; she was already involved with the women's sewing group and with the church and their charity baskets. The men would accept her if their wives did, and the warm greeting she had received from Mrs. Slickson seemed to indicate she had already been accepted.

Many were likely also curious to see her arrive with him. John had never escorted a woman other than his mother or sister anywhere in Milton. His private life was nonexistent, in fact. His life was all work and no play, and except recently for Ann Latimer's forward, clinging behavior, no other woman had even offered a hint of interest in him. His sister claimed he was intimidating to women, to stiff, too austere, and his mother said he held himself aloof. In truth, he was shy around women. As he had told Miss Hale, he did not enjoy talking about subjects he had no interest in, and it seemed most of what he heard women talk about, held no interest to him.

He leaned over just enough for Miss Hale to hear him whisper, "Are you asleep?"

Her smile broadened but she did not open her eyes. She tilted her head toward him. "Concentrating."

When she opened her eyes, their gazes were not a foot apart.

"On the music?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I am translating the words."

So, she did know more Italian than she had let on in the carriage. He nodded, and as he turned from Miss Hale, Fanny was staring at him. She grinned and glanced at Miss Hale before giving him a knowing nod. Was that her approval? He really did not need anyone's consent except Mr. Hale's, he supposed, but he was glad to have her willing to accept Miss Hale all the same. Maybe she would cease pushing Miss Latimer in his direction. That had been his hope in entertaining Miss Hale in public, but now his hopes were expanding far beyond just ridding himself of Ann Latimer's attention.

"Is it a happy song?" he whispered.

"It is a love song." She smiled.

Her eyes opened and she continued to smile. He struggled to look away from her profile, to focus instead on the man singing on the stage. He was a squat sort or stout man, and while he could carry a tune, this singing was not what John most enjoyed. The musicians playing in accompaniment were quite good, though, and John imagined holding Miss Hale in his arms and guiding her across a dance floor. That would have been more enjoyable to him than sitting on this damned uncomfortable chair.

He wondered if she knew about the Harvest Ball a week from this evening. Perhaps if the rest of this evening ended well, and their walk together on Sunday was equally enjoyable, he would invite her to attend the ball with him. That would create quite a stir, and to the minds of most Milton folk, they would then be seen as a courting couple. A small grin crossed his face at the freedom he would have if she agreed to keep company with him. He did not want to rush the situation, but at the same time he enjoyed her company so much, it seemed natural to want to be around her more often.

Oddly, his mother liked Miss Hale a great deal. It was not odd that anyone should like Miss Hale, but rather that his mother would like anyone. Most days she did not even seem to like Fanny, but she spoke of Miss Hale a great deal and in very fine, glowing terms.

Tonight, Miss Hale was teasing with him, something she had never done in her home when he came for his lessons. Perhaps being in the company of her parents limited her freedom to be herself? He had enjoyed their conversations following his lessons, but tonight, he was enjoying her even more, and he had a strong feeling the personality she displayed this evening was closer to who she really was.

The man finished his third song followed by polite applause. The music continued playing, and John wondered if there would be an intermission. He really wanted to hear about the rest of her deliveries in Princeton, he had not been asking only from politeness, he actually was interested in her day. The way she had described her delivery to the older woman had been so descriptive and entertaining, he could only imagine what else she had encountered.

Princeton could be a dangerous place. Because of the constant tension between his hands and himself, and the other mill masters, John was not welcome in that area and he cautioned his mother about spending time there. He imagined as long as Miss Hale went on her charity basket deliveries with Mrs. Donaldson, as she had today, she would be safe. He might suggest that to her if an opportunity arose. He did not wish to overstep, but he knew Milton far better than her father.

When the music finally paused, the director announced a ten-minute intermission. John quickly stood. Despite having adequate space, he did need to stretch. He could only sit for so long before his back and knees tensed and became sore. When working at his desk, it was often his shoulders that felt the pain of inactivity. He stepped out of the aisle to allow the rest of his party to exit and stretch if they chose to do so.

"Would you like some punch?" John asked Miss Hale.

"No, thank you." She smiled at him and stepped out of the way for Fanny and Miss Latimer.

"Margaret," Fanny said. "Ann and I are going to the Ladies Room. Would you like to freshen up?"

"No, go ahead. I would like to look at the rest of the portraits."

"Ugh," Fanny groaned. "So dull. I wish they had brighter paintings. Come, Ann." Fanny took Ann's hand and they went toward the Ladies Room at the other end of the building.

"I rather like them," Miss Hale told him. "The paintings, that is." She pointed to the wall. "Feel free to mingle, Mr. Thornton. I will be safe looking around."

He really did not wish to be anywhere but at her side, but was she suggesting he was hovering? "Do you mind if I continue to join you?"

Her smile answered his question. "Of course not. I would like that. I simply thought if there were others you needed to or wished to speak with, I did not wish to monopolize your time."

"I am pleased to spend time with you apart from my lessons," he admitted. "I wondered if you had met Mr. Hamper yet? Slickson and Hamper are the two men I spent the most time with."

"I have met Mrs. Hamper, but not her husband."

"Let us have an introduction. Then if there is time, I will direct you to the more interesting paintings."

He found Hamper easily enough. The man had a deep voice and a very deep laugh which he utilized quite often. He was standing in a group of other men with whom John was acquainted. He knew there was a general interest in Miss Hale, thus the sooner he introduced her, the sooner people would quit staring at her. Or, so he thought.

"Mr. Hamper," John said, "I would like to introduce you to Miss Margaret Hale, lately arrived from London."

He watched as Margaret nodded her head politely and extended her hand to the older man. Hamper kissed her knuckles and studied her face rather intently. "My wife has spoken of you. I believe you are helping with the charity baskets at the church?"

Margaret nodded. "Yes. Mrs. Donaldson invited me to help and I am glad to do so. My father was a minister in the south and now that we are here, I hope to continue helping those less fortunate."

"Then we will be lucky to have you in Milton, Miss Hale. There are plenty who need help." Hamper took a long swallow and finished his drink. He nodded to the man he had been talking with before he and Miss Hale joined them. "Thornton you know Bates from the bleach works, don't you?"

John nodded. "Forgive me, Miss Hale, Lloyd and his brother Matthew Bates own a bleach works on the southern edge of Milton. This is Mr. Lloyd Bates."

She again dipped her head and extended her delicate hand to be squeezed by Lloyd. She was such a fine lady, he wondered what she thought about the calloused hands touching her soft, finely manicured fingers.

"My brother Matthew is over there." He pointed with his wine glass toward the other side of the room. "He's the red head talking to the group of women." He grinned. "My wife, you see, is quite late in her confinement," he explained, "so I have come alone tonight."

John saw something flash in Miss Hale's eyes. Confusion perhaps? No, it appeared more like censure. Did she find it odd that the man should attend the function without his wife? He considered what he might do in the man's situation. If it weren't for Fanny, he wouldn't be here this evening, so he supposed he would be glad to stay home with his wife, pregnant or not.

The lights flickered, beckoning them all back to their seats to resume the rest of the musical. John excused them and guided Miss Hale back to their original spots. The others of their party were already situated and so she quickly sat and he joined her.

"I did not get to see all the paintings," she told him.

"Next time we shall start with the ones you missed," he promised.

He liked the soft smile that covered her face at his suggestion. Oh yes, he definitely liked her, too.

The second part of the concert was much shorter than the first had been. He had not paid much attention to it, instead he had been lost in his thoughts about the woman sitting primly next to him. He was still a little amazed she had come with him tonight. He had given her no notice, simply showed up at her home and she had rushed to get ready. Looking at her, he would have thought getting ready would have taken all night as she looked so beautiful. He held onto a groan. He hoped she was interested in knowing him better. This wooing business was a bit difficult for him and he feared that if she were to compare him to some fancy London fellow, he may well fall short.

Once the music ended, John helped Fanny and Miss Hale shrug into their cloaks and then walked between them toward his awaiting carriage, dodging snowflakes along the way. The people who shoveled the walkway in front of the hall, did a fine job removing the snow as there were piles of the fluffy white stuff off to the sides. It must have been snowing the entire time they had been inside, as even the carriages had snow on their roofs.

He really did not want the night to end, but the morning bell sounded early. The carriage was warm, and he positioned himself directly across from Miss Hale.

"What did you think, Fanny?" Miss Hale asked.

"I did what you told me to… you know imagining what words the man was singing and it made me laugh inside. It was hard not to laugh out loud. The music itself was very good, I thought. I wish there had been more piano." She shrugged. "Thank you, John for taking me."

"Indeed." Margaret smiled at him. "I am very thankful you thought to include me."

"My pleasure, ladies."

It had been a pleasure this evening. If he had only Fanny to attend with, he would have ended up spending much of the evening in the close company of the Latimers. Mr. Latimer was fine when he was among other men, but when he and John were alone together, he could be a bit too much to deal with. He was a braggart, arrogant and sometimes even rude. He had come from money and often forgot or disregarded the fact that John had worked hard to be where he was today.

He looked up to find Miss Hale staring at him. She was curious, he could see it in her expression. Had she noticed his sudden retreat inside his own head? He doubted she would say anything in front of Fanny. She had been very free to speak when it was just the two of them, touring the Lyceum.

At Crampton, John helped Margaret out of the carriage after she said goodbye to Fanny. He placed his hat on, and she raised her hood before holding his arm as they slogged through the snow. Here, no one had shoveled away the snow and he thought two inches were scattered across the ground. She grabbed him tightly when her shoe slipped. He caught her with a grin, smiling at her red cheeks.

"Have a care, Miss Hale. Your father would not be pleased with me if I returned you with a broken head."

She laughed. "He would not be overly surprised, I fear. I was a tree climber as a child."

He tried to imagine her scampering in the southern countryside, skinning her knees and shimmying up and down big trees.

"Were you a quiet child?" He could not help but ask.

"Yes." She nodded. Her eyes met his. "I imagine you a very serious child."

Had he ever really had a childhood?

"I was, yes." He allowed her to grip the handrail as they climbed the stairs.

At the top, just in front of the door, they paused. "I would invite you in, but I fear Fanny would complain again about being left in the carriage."

He chuckled. "Indeed. Tomorrow is also a workday, I fear, so I shall say goodbye until Sunday, if you still wish to walk out?"

She nodded. "I do. Sunday, it is."

He took her hand and kissed her gloved knuckles, wishing instead he could simply touch his lips to hers. Patience, John. The door opened while John still held her hand. He dropped it quickly, aware of the disapproving look the maid gave him.

"Good evening, Miss Hale."

"Thank you again, Mr. Thornton. I had a lovely time with you." Her smile told him she meant what she said.

He stepped back as she entered and tipped his hat. Once she closed the door, he left, a slow smile spreading across his face. Oh, yes, he was smitten. Sunday could not come soon enough.