Chapter Nine
Ever punctual, Adam Bell rang the doorbell at Crampton at precisely six o'clock on Saturday evening. Margaret rushed to the door to greet her godfather with a warm hug and quickly divested the older man of his outer gear. He hugged her again once his coat was hung.
"You are looking quite lovely. Miss Margaret Hale is all grown up," he said, grinning.
She curtsied. "Thank you, Mr. Bell. It was bound to happen, was it not? Papa could not allow me to climb trees all my life." She laughed.
Just then, her father came down the stairs and exchanged a warm embrace with Mr. Bell. Bell had been her father's mentor and best friend almost her father's entire adult life, certainly since his days at Oxford so many years earlier.
"Dinner will be ready shortly if you two wish to visit in the study?" Margaret said.
"Yes." Her father nodded. He placed a hand on his friend's back to guide him toward the room that served as study and sitting room. "Come, Bell, we will wait on food and warm our bones in front of the fire."
Once they were gone, Margaret rushed up the stairs to move her mother along. Her father had given her mother no option but to join them for dinner. Of course, she had blustered. Margaret was not certain the woman had left the safety and comfort of her room in a week's time, but tonight she must. Mr. Bell was there calling on them, and even Maria, who once disliked the man, could not avoid the dinner party.
When Margaret opened her mother's door after a polite rap, she was surprised to see her already dressed prepared to join them. "You look very pretty tonight, Mama."
"Thank you, child." It came out as a whisper; sounded as if that short sentence had been a great effort.
"Mr. Bell is here. I came to see if you needed any help."
"You came to collect me, afraid I was planning on refusing," her mother countered.
Margaret smiled. "Perhaps."
"Well, here I am." Her mother twirled slowly. "Shall we join the men?"
"Yes." Margaret nodded, smiling. "Papa is quite happy tonight and you know how much he enjoys Mr. Bell's conversation. It will do you a world of good, Mama."
"And what of you child? You must be tired after your time at the church today."
"A little," Margaret lied. In truth, she was exhausted. "I will rely on Mr. Bell's humor to buoy my spirits and make me forget my fatigue."
She linked her arm with her mother's and together they walked into the study where men's happy voices could be heard. Margaret caught her mother's small smile and hoped, prayed really, that Mr. Bell's visit might pull her out of her pit of despair.
The men were laughing over a story about the antics of one of Mr. Bell's less intelligent students. Somehow, the young man had set fire to his room in the dormitory. His defense had been he was warding off evil spirits that were haunting him.
"I am quite of the mind that the evil spirits to which he referred were indeed spirits, but those of an alcoholic nature rather than an otherworldly nature."
Margaret laughed at that. "I thought those type of spirits were designed to soothe a man's soul?"
"Generally, yes, Margaret," Mr. Bell answered. "However, too much of a good thing can lead to one's downfall."
She nodded. "I imagine so."
The four walked into the dining room where Dixon was busily filling wine and water glasses. The table had been set with her mother's finest china and crystal. Lit candles decorated the table casting a warm, inviting glow in the small room.
"And how have the lessons been progressing with John Thornton?" Mr. Bell asked, once a plate of food was set in front of him.
Margaret felt her face flush at the mention of the man who had been on her mind most of the day. She studied her dinner plate as if it were the most interesting thing she had ever seen. Indeed, she thought the boiled potato was fashioned in such a way to look more like a ball than an oval shape.
"Excellent," her father told Mr. Bell. "You were right in your assessment of his abilities. He is a very smart young man, with the desire to learn and better himself."
"I thought you would enjoy his company," Mr. Bell answered. "And you, Maria, what is your opinion of the man? I have always found him to be the closest thing to a true gentleman in Milton. Why, I expect one day he will move from magistrate to stand for a place in Parliament."
"Do you?" Margaret asked. She had never considered what the man's future might bring. To her, she saw only a powerful mill master and magistrate.
"Indeed. I have known him since he was quite young. His father was a fine man. Fine man." Mr. Bell nodded. "Had circumstances been different for John, I do believe he would be something even more extraordinary than running one of the largest cotton mills in Milton."
"He escorted Margaret to a musical last night at the Lyceum," Maria told Mr. Bell.
"Did he now?" Mr. Bell's eyebrows shot up.
"Miss Thornton was with us, of course. It was an Italian operetta. Perhaps more like an Opera?" She laughed. "I am not entirely certain what it was, but it was a fun evening."
"Did Mr. Thornton introduce you to the other mill masters?" Mr. Bell asked. He studied her with curiosity. He was a sly man, with a witty, satirical sense of humor. Margaret enjoyed his company so much, but at the moment she felt as if she were under a magnifying glass.
"Yes, two of them anyway. Mr. Slickson and Mr. Hamper," she answered. She took a sip of wine before she continued. "I had met their wives already. Mother and I have been invited to participate in a sewing circle led by Mrs. Donaldson."
"Ah, the doctor's wife? Yes, she is a fine woman. She does much for the church, I believe?"
"Yes," Margaret agreed. "She asked that I assist with their charity baskets, too."
Mr. Bell's smile was wide. "I am so pleased to hear you are making a home for yourself here, my dear!" He raised his glass in salute. "Milton has always held a special place in my heart."
"I believe I am." She smiled.
"Mr. Thornton is taking her for a walk tomorrow after services, also," her father told Mr. Bell.
"Oh? Well, it is hardly any surprise you should catch a man's attention, Margaret. Mr. Thornton however, is rather elusive."
"How so?" Her mother asked.
"In all the years I have known him, I have never known him keep company with any woman. Oh, many have tried to lure him in, but no one has had any success." Mr. Bell paused a minute and studied her again. "I will let you in on a little secret, but only because you are my goddaughter. John Thornton is a lion in business. Of all the mill masters he will be the most successful, no matter the state of the economy he will remain in a good position financially. He is frugal and very conservative. However, and you may find this difficult to believe." Mr. Bell looked between her and her father. "He is quite shy and reserved. We have had many good conversations, but only because I have known him for so long. Margaret, do not be offended if he is quiet in your presence or seems… indifferent. I imagine he will try to be as forthright as he is comfortable."
She smiled. "I thank you for the warning, Mr. Bell. I have already seen that myself."
"You said little about your evening, Margaret," her mother said. "He was pleasant company?"
"Quite." Margaret nodded. "He was very attentive."
"And how does he behave among his peers?" her mother continued. "Do you find his manners appropriate."
"Yes, Mama. Truly, if I did not know we were in Milton, or that Mr. Thornton was a manufacturer, he could easily pass as any fine gentleman in London."
"I doubt that," her mother said quietly.
"Mother, you have spent very little time getting to know him," Margaret answered.
The tension that fell across the table was palpable. Margaret did not want to do anything to discourage her mother from eating with them in the future, so she said nothing more. Mr. Bell and her father easily picked up the conversation, and although they did not direct any comments toward Margaret she did laugh when the moment required just that reaction.
Margaret was glad to see her mother eat. Dixon had reported to Margaret that her mother was avoiding meals, even in her room. It was obvious, as she studied her mother, that she was losing weight. Maybe she actually was ill, and only used her nerves and low spirits as a cover for her fear of failing health. Perhaps another visit from Dr. Donaldson would be in order?
"Well," her mother said, standing from the table, "if you will excuse me, I will retire for the evening." The men politely stood. "It is very good to see you once again, Adam. I hope you stop in before you return to Oxford." Her smile appeared forced.
"I appreciate your invitation," Mr. Bell said. "Unfortunately, this is a rather short visit to Milton. When I come back next month, I will be glad to see you once again."
"Shall I see you upstairs mother?" Margaret offered.
"No, dear." She shook her graying head. "You do go on and enjoy your desert."
"Good night, Mother," Margaret whispered. How she wished she knew how to help her.
The men regained their seats. Margaret saw a look of worry cross her father's face. Perhaps it was time to speak with him again about her mother's health? She had thought of suggesting a trip to London for her mother. A visit to see Aunt Shaw usually perked up her spirits.
"Margaret," Mr. Bell said, "Would you be so kind as to close the door, please?"
"Do you wish me to leave?" she asked.
"No," Mr. Bell said. "You should hear what I have to tell your father. I think you may be able to help him."
She wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin from her lap and set it on the table before pushing her chair back. She closed the door, and moved to sit at the other end of the table, across from Mr. Bell.
"There is something I must tell you. I do not know how you will react, Hale, but I did it with you family in mind, and with the very best of intentions."
"What have you done?" her father asked, frowning.
"About a year ago, I received a letter from Henry Lennox. It was soon after your niece married his brother. I think, Margaret, you must have asked Henry to look into a way to help Frederick return to England and receive a fair trial?"
"Margaret, did you?" her father asked.
"Yes, Papa, I did." She looked down at the table, feeling guilty for involving people in the scandal that really had no reason to be involved. "Henry was around rather often at Aunt Shaw's home and after speaking to him one evening, I thought perhaps, as he is an attorney, he might be able to develop a defense for Frederick. He already knew about Fredrick's exile. I am not certain if Edith told her husband who told Henry or if Aunt Shaw told him, but he knew of the mutiny. Of course, it was in the papers at the time, too. Papa, I know that if my brother returns to England, he is certain to be hanged. But, the thought of never seeing him again…" Tears pricked her eyes.
"I cannot fault you, but to give Frederick false hope might be worse than him simply learning to accept his new home in Spain?" Her father shifted his gaze between her and Mr. Bell. "Did you tell Frederick of your idea, Margaret?"
She nodded silently, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief.
"When Henry approached me," Mr. Bell continued, "I suggested just as you did, Hale, that we leave things as they were. You indicated Frederick was well settled with the shipping firm in Cadiz and I had no reason to think he should come back. I am sorry, Margaret, but I believed the further from here the safer he was."
"I understand, Mr. Bell. I was thinking my heart instead of my head," she admitted.
"Unfortunately, I do believe Henry wanted to please you, Margaret, and he saw an opportunity to bring Frederick back to England."
"What?" Margaret and her father said at the same time.
Mr. Bell nodded. "Henry was able to hide him for a short while. The Navy officials would not be looking for Frederick at Henry's home. Henry contacted me, and I was able to relocate Frederick. You see, Hale, part of the reason I suggested you come to Milton is that he is here."
Margaret's mouth fell open. Her father looked faint.
"Where is he, Mr. Bell?" Margaret whispered.
"I do not want to tell you," he said. "I do not want you to contact him, Margaret. I realized after you wrote of the murder on your stairs that it may well be connected to Frederick."
"Oh my." Margaret rested her hand on her throat. "So, what will we do?" Margaret whispered.
"I will visit Frederick before I leave. He is working at a mill, not Marlborough but another one here in Milton. He has been doing well, said he was glad to be back on English soil. Now, I fear I made a horrible decision settling him here."
"Oh, Mr. Bell, I must see him!" Margaret cried. "Mama must see him!"
"You know that John Thornton is Milton's magistrate?" Mr. Bell asked her.
She nodded.
"If he were to learn about this, he could arrest not only your brother but the three of us as well for aiding and abetting a criminal."
She swallowed.
"I was willing to take the chance. I am an old man, and if I sensed danger, I have plenty of places I could go to hide, but the two of you?" He shook his head. "This was the foolhardiest thing I have ever done."
"You did it as a kindness," her father argued. "If no one had been murdered here, there would be no reason for concern. That murder has drawn attention to our house, our family. Frederick is not safe here, and perhaps we are not either."
Her father took her hand.
"Is it wise that I continue to spend time with John Thornton?" She felt her heart begin to race. "Lord, what would happen if he found out about Frederick? What if Frederick shows up and Mr. Thornton is here studying or calling?"
"You should tell him about Frederick, I think," Mr. Bell said quickly. "Not that Frederick is here, in Milton, of course, but that you have a brother, who committed a crime. Tell Thornton the entire story, Margaret. If he finds out that you have not been forthcoming, he will certainly question your integrity. Even if nothing of a romantic nature materializes between you, he will know… and it might put your father in a poor light as well."
She swallowed. "Perhaps father should tell him."
"No, I disagree," her father said. "Tomorrow, while you are walking with him, tell him then. Surely, he will ask more about you. You can be honest and say you have not seen him since he left for the Navy, which is true. If he asks if you know where he is, you can honestly say you do not."
"Yes, Papa," she answered.
Margaret felt a huge weight on her shoulders. Her brother was in Milton! What did he look like now? It had been so many years since she had seen him! If he had been in Spain, would his skin be tanned? Had he grown as tall as their father? She had come to accept she would not see him again, had come to rely upon the infrequent letters that came from him, sent through Henry Lennox for updates on his life. But now? Now he was here!
"Is there anything else I should know, Mr. Bell?"
"I plan to remove him from Milton. With any luck, I will be able to have him out of England within the week."
"But, Mama?"
"It is too risky now, Margaret," Mr. Bell said. "I must believe that murder here had something to do with Frederick. It is simply too odd to be a coincidence. Besides, I do not believe in coincidences. There is a substantial bounty on his head, and many men are desperate."
Margaret stood slowly. "Will you join us at church tomorrow, Mr. Bell?"
"Of course!" He stood politely as she moved to leave the room.
She kissed Mr. Bell's cheek because he was the closest, said good night to her father and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Suddenly, the idea of walking out with Mr. Thornton was less exciting than it had been after the concert the night before. Yes, she very much wanted to be in his company, but to be forced to discuss the dirty little family secret? Could she do it? And, if Fanny were nearby, would she have the opportunity?
Margaret waited for Dixon to arrive to help her undress. After several minutes, she decided she could handle it on her own, and slipped out of her clothing and into her nightdress. Her feet were killing her. The walk that morning to the Threads shop had not been so bad, but she stood most of the morning, cutting and measuring the fabric, just so. That gown had to be perfect, not just because she wanted a beautiful gown for the Harvest Ball but because she had to prove herself to Rupert Lewis.
He had been impressed. He had been hesitant to show it, she realized, but she still had caught an admiration in his eyes when he saw the fast progress she was making on the garment. She stayed at his shop until two o'clock when she went to the church to meet the other women to make the food baskets for the needy parishioners. Then she rushed home to ready herself for Mr. Bell's arrival.
Yes, her feet did hurt and the idea of walking to church and home tomorrow, followed by more walking in a park with Mr. Thornton was making them throb even more. She found some salve and rubbed the lavender scented lotion into her feet, hoping it would soothe them enough so she could sleep. In truth, her whole body was one aching mess.
Uncharacteristically, John was anxious to get to church. Not that he did not understand and accept the power and love of God in his life, because he did. He knew it was only through His loving grace that his family had somehow succeeded following his father's suicide. However, today he would be seeing Miss Hale not only at church, but after lunch, as well, and that made him far more anxious than usual.
The snow from Friday night had already melted away, and today, the sun was actually shining in Milton, a good omen, he thought, for the rest of the day. Sundays were his only free day from the mill, the only time he did not have to step foot in his office if he chose not to. If he were honest with himself, he would admit most Sundays were rather dull. He was often forced to listen to his sister's poor performance on the piano. Although Fanny claimed her instructor believed her to have fine 'fingering skills' John's ears told a different story.
As the carriage pulled up, he glanced in the mirror a final time to check his cravat. Not a vain man, he knew he was now in competition with London fellows. Perhaps not in person, face-to-face, but in Miss Hale's head. Could he measure up to the fine society men she had known in London? Try as he would, he hoped his manners matched those of her society friends.
He helped his mother and sister into the carriage and then climbed inside. Fanny was talking to their mother about the dress she would wear to the Harvest Ball. Their mother was staring out the window, perhaps trying to ignore Fanny's voice.
"I am attending with Walter Slickson," she told John.
"Yes, Fanny," John answered. "Do you not recall him asking my permission to escort you?"
She giggled. "Yes, I suppose I did. I was surprised, Mama, that Walter was not at the Lyceum on Friday evening. Were you, John?"
Walter was the eldest son of John's mill master friend Harold Slickson, who had been at the performance with his wife on Friday evening.
"Perhaps he does not enjoy musical entertainment as much as you do?"
"Oh, but he does, John! He said he does." She was quite sincere in her explanation.
"Perhaps he had other plans for the evening?" John could name a dozen things a young man, including himself, might have rather done than attend that musical. However, he had gone because he had promised Fanny and of course, he had been able to spend time with Miss Hale.
She was beginning to take over his thoughts, and he was not certain how he felt about that. Williams, his overseers, had caught him daydreaming twice yesterday, and he knew, as he had walked the floor of the weaving sheds and carding room, he really was not seeing what he was looking at. He was seeing instead, the beautiful blue eyes of Miss Hale, the way she had grinned at him when he asked if she had been sleeping and of course the feel of her soft hand on his arm as he introduced her to his friends.
"John?" His mother touched his arm.
Daydreaming, again. They had reached the church and the ladies were waiting for him to exit and help them down. The driver opened the door and John did step out then, and helped his mother and sister out into the bright sunshine. When they entered the church, he was surprised by the number of baskets of food awaiting those in need. He supposed they were always there, but after his discussion with Miss Hale, he really took a look at them. He knew of the need in this town, but now, the sheer number of baskets lining the table in the back astounded him.
As he entered the church, his eyes were immediately drawn to Miss Hale. Situated in the middle of the church, she was seated between her father and Mr. Bell. John liked Adam Bell, he had been a great help and support throughout his whole career. He knew Bell had shared dinner at the Hale house the night before. Had she told the man John was spending time with her today? Would Bell approve of John courting his goddaughter?
His mother liked to sit in the second row, so he was forced to pass the Hales' pew without an acknowledgement. In his mother's view it was perfectly fine to talk with people following services, but not upon arrival. Thus, he would have to sit through the service, wondering if Miss Hale was staring at the back of his head the whole time. At least he had visited the barber that week for a trim, so what she saw would not be particularly off-putting. That led to another thought. Did she like what she saw when she looked at him? The idea made his stomach flutter a bit. He thought she was a beautiful, graceful, polished, funny, wonderful woman. What did she exactly think of him? Perhaps he would get a better clue today when they went for their walk.
The Latimer family piled in behind them as they always did. Fanny could not restrain herself from turning around to greet Ann. Their mother's look of censure was not even enough to prevent her continued quiet conversation. They talked all the time, why could they not simply be quiet for a few moments in church? John thought he might never understand women at all.
Once the holy service was done, John moved with greater than usual haste to find Miss Hale. She and her father were already outside in the sunshine, talking with Mr. Bell. John slowly approached; pleased Miss Hale smiled wide at him when he caught her eye.
"Good morning, Thornton!" Mr. Bell greeted in his usual gregarious way.
"Mr. Bell." He tipped his head. "Miss Hale, Mr. Hale."
"I am glad to see you here today," Bell told him. "I will be leaving this afternoon for London, so I will be unable to visit Marlborough Mills as I usually do when I am in Milton."
"I am sorry to hear that," John told him. He did enjoy the man's visits. "I assure you, however, all is as well as ever."
Mr. Bell clapped him on the shoulder. "Good to hear that." Bell turned his attention to Miss Hale and John's eyes followed his gaze. "I understand a walk out is planned for this afternoon." He smiled between the two. "It certainly is a far from ideal day with the chill, but I doubt that will deter the enjoyment." He winked at John.
"Yes," John said quietly. "I came this was to make certain that despite the chilly morning, Miss Hale was still interested in our trip this afternoon?"
"Yes, of course," Miss Hale answered.
"Very good," John said. "I will come for you at two o'clock if that pleases you?"
"That will be fine. Thank you." He hoped she was as anxious as he to spend time in company together.
"Margaret, we ought to be going," Mr. Hale said. "Bell, do come back soon. We always enjoy your company. Mr. Thornton," he nodded toward John. "We will look forward to your visit."
He bid them goodbye, wishing he could talk to Miss Hale longer, but it was chilly, and more difficult with Mr. Bell standing there. It had taken John such a long time to understand the older man's humor and unique ways. Sometimes being in his mere presence made him uncomfortable as he was never quite certain what the old man would say or what sort of response he expected from John.
Once the Hales were out of earshot, Mr. Bell said, "She is a true gem, is she not?"
"Miss Hale?" John asked, even though he knew full well whom Bell was speaking of.
"Indeed." Bell's eyes followed the Hales they left. "She was raised in a fine home in London, you know. Perhaps she will tell you more of her family today, so I shan't spoil an interesting topic for you to discuss. Richard Hale has been my longest and dearest friend." Bell's face turned into a scowl. "I did see Maria yesterday, and must say I am concerned about her health."
"Yes, I have noticed she seems to be… wilting… here." John looked behind him to make certain no one was listening to their conversation. "I met her first when I visited their home for lessons and while she was hardly robust even then, she was not nearly as withdrawn as she seems to be at present. It does seem to concern Miss Hale as she has remarked upon it to my mother."
"She has met Mrs. Thornton, already?"
"Aye." John smiled. "Miss Hale as become part of my mother's sewing circle. Miss Hale has met many of the women of my Society."
"And, no doubt fits in quite well?"
John simply nodded. She really did fit in. Their time at the Lyceum had shown him how well she could adapt to the people around her.
"Would you be so kind, Thornton," Mr. Bell continued, "as to keep me informed of any sign of continued deterioration in Mrs. Hale? I do not believe Margaret or her father will alert me, as they are too private to discuss such matters, even with me, but you will have an opportunity to watch what transpires."
"I will do that for you, yes."
"Thank you." Mr. Bell smiled. "That does ease my mind considerably." Mr. Bell pulled John's arm to a more private spot where not so many parishioners were gathered. "I believe you know Margaret is my goddaughter?"
"I am aware of that, yes."
His voice dropped quite low as he continued, "Allow me to say that although she may appear to be in reduced circumstances at present, she will come to a marriage in much a more… comfortable… situation. And, upon my passing, as long as I do not live to be above one hundred and fifty years, she will be quite well situated."
"I see."
John's mind raced at that knowledge. She was an heiress, it seemed. Of course, Miss Latimer was as well, but that had not swayed John's opinion of her. The money was attractive incentive, of course, but he had decided, a decade earlier, that he would not marry a woman for money, unless he found himself with his back against the wall, and had no other reasonable option.
"I tell you this not to tempt you to consider Margaret as a more suitable match, but rather for you to understand that despite having very little at present, because of her father's momentous decision to leave the ministry, she will, in fact, bring much to her marriage beyond herself. Of course, for many men, as I have personally witnessed, Margaret was sufficient enough with no dowry attached."
"Many men?" John could not catch the question before it left his mouth.
Bell chuckled. "She was sought after in London; however, I do not think that particular town held her interest as much as Helstone. She was happiest there, I believe. However, even without trees and streams if someone gave her reason to stay here, I believe she could find her place. Indeed, it sounds like she has already begun to do so."
"Yes, she certainly has. Thank you, for the insight, Mr. Bell," John said. He reached out his hand and shook it firmly. "I do hope to see you next month at the Mill Master's Dinner?"
Bell took his hand. "Provided my business is London resolves satisfactorily, I will be an honored guest at your mother's table."
"We will be glad to have you. Safe travels." John nodded his head, and walked toward the carriage where his mother and Fanny had already crawled inside.
As they pulled away, he noticed Bell surrounded by a half dozen other men. He was well connected, for certain, and although John had never stopped to consider the sizable fortune the man had amassed, it might serve him well to do so now. His properties in Milton alone certainly exceeded thirty thousand pounds. That did not take into account any money in the bank or other investments held elsewhere. Did Miss Hale know of her impending wealth? He wondered if Mr. Hale even knew his dearest friend had plans to be so generous to his daughter.
"John are you even listening to me?" Fanny nagged.
"No, I was not." He shook his head. "What did you ask?"
"Are we still going walking today with Margaret? Ann asked to come along."
"You better have told her no," he growled. Fanny knew this was an opportunity for John to court Miss Hale. To have Ann there would only make things uncomfortable.
"I did," Fanny said with a chuckle. "Ann is not at all pleased with the situation. She thought she had snared you for certain."
Exasperated, John looked at his mother. "John is not so easily snared as we have seen more than once, Fanny."
"Why Margaret?" Fanny asked.
"Why not Miss Hale?" their mother asked. "She is a beautiful, kind, generous young woman. She is well liked by the women of our set, and if John chooses her, I do not believe I would be at all upset."
"But, mother, she is poor, is she not?" Fanny asked.
"No, she is not," John answered for his mother. "At present, they are in reduced circumstances, however, you must understand she has fine family connections that have seen to her future well-being. No, Fanny, her future is quite well situated."
"Will we have to walk long today? It is so chilly out," Fanny whined.
"It will be warmer by the afternoon," John predicted. "And, if nothing else, perhaps we will entertain Miss Hale at the house for tea?"
"She would be welcome, John."
He smiled. "Thank you, Mother."
