A/N I rarely write notes to my readers, but I would like to thank you all for your continued support through reads and reviews. It is much appreciated. Additionally, I would like to alert you to a new release at Amazon, called "Falling for Mr. Thornton." It is a compilation of short stories related to Margaret and John. I have a story exclusive to that book.
Best Wishes, Julia xx
"Why are you sad?
"Because you speak to me in words and I look at you with feelings."
~Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy
Chapter 10
"You look a bit overdressed for your walk, John." Fanny shifted on the seat of their carriage as they rumbled toward Crampton. "What you wore to church would have been quite acceptable."
He had taken great care to dress well that afternoon. Today could be one of those days he would look back and reflect upon decades from now. Today might be the day Margaret would agree to allow him to formally court her, keep company, or however she might prefer to refer to such a growing romantic relationship. Was he to be her beau? Her suitor?
"John are you even listening to me?" Fanny whined. "I swear, whenever Margaret is involved, you become so caught up in your own thoughts."
He grinned. "I suppose you are right. She is becoming important to me, Fanny."
She snorted. "Yes, that is rather obvious."
He checked his watch as the carriage stopped outside the Hale's rented townhouse. It was two minutes to two, and he was right on time. Punctuality was important to John, and although he would have gladly been here hours earlier, he had told Miss Hale two o'clock was the designated time.
He opened the carriage door and stepped out, replacing his hat on his head he climbed the stairs. He had brought flowers for her this time, and stood patiently as he waited for their maid, Dixon, to open the door. Miss Hale was standing behind the maid, shrugging into her coat. Her face lit up when she saw him and after he pulled the flower bouquet from behind him, holding them out to her, she gasped.
"How beautiful! How could you find these in November?" She stepped around Dixon and reached forward for the flowers. Closing her eyes took a deep breath. "Yellow roses are my most favorite, Mr. Thornton. Thank you." She smelled them again, a look of pure pleasure crossing her face before handing the flowers to Dixon who said she would place them in a vase for her.
"Are you ready?" he asked, smiling.
"Yes, I am. Has it warmed up?" she asked.
"A bit, yes." He allowed her to precede him as they exited the house. "Are your parents well?"
"They are." She nodded as she descended. "Father fell asleep in his chair a short time ago or he would have said hello." She smiled up at him.
He helped her climb into the carriage, pleased with the scent of roses that followed her movements. She settled herself next to Fanny, who was quick to greet her.
"I am so glad it warmed up," Fanny said. "I was worried it might snow again. November is so unpredictable in Milton."
John did not want to take his eyes off Miss Hale. She had redone her hair since church that morning. Much of it was now hanging loose, and curly tendrils framed her face. Her face was flushed, perhaps from the chill of the air, or maybe, as he hoped, in excitement of spending time with him.
"How far must we travel?" Miss Hale asked him.
"Perhaps twenty minutes."
"So far just to find a park?" She sighed. "It seems so strange to have to take a carriage to take a pleasant walk."
"I should warn you not to be too disappointed, Miss Hale, as this small park will be nothing like London's Hyde Park and certainly not as impressive of the countryside where you were raised." He hoped it would satisfy her need for a ramble.
"Oh, I will not be disappointed! Please do not think that," she quickly reassured him. "I am anxious to see all of Milton."
"Why?" Fanny asked, frowning. "Most of the town is disgusting, Margaret. I still find it difficult to believe Mrs. Donaldson talked you into delivering the charity baskets with her."
"Well, I want to feel part of Milton, Fanny. Mrs. Donaldson has been very welcoming and I was glad I could help her. When I was growing up, Fanny, I often delivered goods to the needier members of my father's congregation." She looked across the coach at him. "People often find themselves in circumstances they cannot overcome without some extra help."
"Do you not believe that, by giving charity, you prevent such people from pushing themselves to better their circumstances?" John asked.
"Perhaps," Miss Hale said, thoughtfully. "Yet, as I have seen in church and in Princeton, the need is very great. I understand a person must have the compulsion to better themselves, just as you did, Mr. Thornton. Mr. Bell was very complimentary of your progress and accomplishments."
"Mr. Bell is your father's friend?" Fanny asked.
"Yes," Miss Hale answered. "He is my father's dearest friend and also my godfather."
Did she know that Bell intended to provide her dowry and that upon his death she would inherit his vast fortune? That revelation had been surprising to him at church. He supposed Bell had been a part of the family so long it did not occur to her he would be so generous. Never having married, there was no one else for Bell to leave his fortune to, except perhaps as a donation to Oxford or his hometown of Milton.
"John has indeed accomplished much and risen to the highest pinnacle of Milton society," Fanny boasted. "Mother and I take great pride in his success."
Miss Hale smiled at him. "And so, you should."
"Is your mother feeling any better, Margaret?" Fanny asked.
"No, I am afraid if anything, she is declining. After church, I asked Doctor Donaldson to call on Mother. I am hopeful I will be able to have her attend the sewing group this week." Miss Hale turned her gaze toward him. "Your mother is hosting us on Tuesday and Thursday."
"Yes, she did mention that at breakfast this morning. She always enjoys when the women come to the mill house," Fanny answered. "I expect she will want me to participate."
"Do you not enjoy sewing?" Margaret asked, chuckling likely at the derision evident in Fanny's voice.
"No, not particularly," Fanny shook her head. "I must prefer to buy things already completed."
"Perhaps you can stay for supper on Tuesday, Miss Hale, so I might get a look at the project you are working on?" John suggested. "I could accompany you back to Crampton for my lesson that evening."
"Yes." Miss Hale smiled. "I would like that. Thank you."
The carriage turned quiet as they rambled over the bumpy cobblestones.
Fanny broke the silence. "I have begun courting with Walter Slickson," she told Miss Hale.
"I do not believe I have had the pleasure to meet him yet."
"No, I do not believe you have," John told her.
"He is taking me to the Harvest Ball this week. I am very excited as this will be our first official appearance as a couple."
It was the perfect opening for John to invite Miss Hale to attend the ball with him, but he was not certain about her interest in him. How embarrassing would it be for her to decline his offer in front of Fanny!
"Is Walter the son of Mr. Slickson who owns the mill?"
"He is." Fanny nodded. "He is planning to open his own mill, to run alongside his father's. It might take a bit of time. He is still young, not yet twenty-five, but I expect in no time he will be among the finest mill masters in northern England."
"Is there space for another mill in Milton?" Miss Hale asked. "With so many large operations, it seems too crowded to add another?"
"He thinks he might expand toward Bolton," Fanny answered. "It is only a short distance from Milton and there is plenty of available land."
"Many mills are considering expanding toward Bolton," John answered. "I still have land to expand into, but Slickson's space is rather tight, as you astutely observed, Miss Hale."
"Of course, I would not mind him choosing a completely different occupation that might move us to London," Fanny sighed.
"You wish to live in London?" Miss Hale asked.
"I would, yes." Fanny answered. "Every time I have visited, I have come to appreciate the city all the more."
"Would you like to move back to London, Miss Hale?" John asked.
He would hate it. He hated it every time he was forced to attend meetings there. He could not see himself living anywhere other than Milton, no matter who he married. Young Slickson was of the same ilk, but as manipulative as Fanny could be, he might cave to her whims.
"Not permanently, no." She shook her head. "I do enjoy visiting my family. Edith, my cousin, just had a baby and I would enjoy watching him grow up. I anticipate she will have more children, and my Aunt Shaw is like a second mother to me. When I go to London, I enjoy attending musicals and plays, but no, I do not believe I would like to live there permanently ever again."
"What about Hellstone?" John asked.
A wistful smile slid across her face. "That village will always hold a very special place in my heart, but no. Once father decided we were leaving, I knew I could not return. To go back would somehow tarnish my wonderful memories from my youth."
"I suppose that is what Milton is to me," John said. "I have been fortunate to visit places all over England and even abroad, but my heart is here. This is my home."
Miss Hale's soft smile was interrupted by Fanny's snort. "Your lungs will hate you for that one day. The smog!"
"Sadly, London is only a bit better, Fanny." Miss Hale told her. She turned back to him. "I think I heard you tell my father, Mr. Thornton, that is that smoke that runs the economy of England."
He nodded. It was the truth. "It is a tangible, visible reminder of the progress England is undergoing. I cannot say I enjoy the smell and the thickness of the air, yet it reminds me daily of my purpose in life."
Miss Hale frowned slightly.
"Are you frowning over my purpose in life, Miss Hale?" John grinned, teasingly, but curious at the same time.
"Oh, no." She shook her head, the loose tendrils of hair caressing her cheeks. "I was thinking it was fine to look at one's occupation as a purpose for their life, but surely there are other things to contribute to one's happiness and fulfillment?"
Her eyes pinned him. If Fanny were not in the carriage, he would tell her exactly what he thought might bring him happiness. That was the very point of this walking out today. Would she allow him to court her?
"Of course!" Fanny answered for him. "Piano lessons, for example, often serves as my purpose for getting up early. The lessons make me quite happy. Shopping also gives me much happiness, even when I do not purchase anything."
John chuckled. "And how often do you suppose that occurs, Fanny?"
His sister shrugged. "You are right, of course. I do enjoy spending money."
Miss Hale, he noticed, was looking out the window as the scenery gradually changed from crowded neighborhoods and industrial compounds to wider open spaces. She and Fanny were quite different. He could not imagine Miss Hale simply spending money to spend money. She dressed well, but not as ostentatiously as his sister, and he had actually seen Miss Hale wear the same dress twice, something Fanny would consider a major faux pas.
"This area looks nothing like Milton," Miss Hale said, smiling.
"And yet it is only a short distance from my mill," John said.
She turned from the window toward him with a big smile. "Indeed."
The carriage pulled to a stop at the entrance of the park, and John stepped out, helping first Miss Hale and then his sister to the ground. It was breezy, with a definite winter chill in the air. He noticed Miss Hale was wearing a heavier woolen cloak with a muff. His sister had dressed warm as well, but he knew she would be the first to complain about the cold, no matter how warmly she had dressed.
Margaret studied the green space. It was not a large area, perhaps two city blocks along each of the sides. It was gated, more as a decorative device than a security measure. She was quite disappointed, but she would not let her host know how much. At least she was seeing trees finally, with some birds, and a small pond was in the middle of a hilly grassy knoll.
"What do you think?" he asked.
She thought he looked like a little boy who had just made a picture for his mother, looking for approval. "It's wonderful," she said. "Grass and trees!"
He chuckled. "That is what you ordered, is it not?"
"Yes," she smiled at him. "I recall that was what I asked for."
He looked so handsome. He had changed from his church suit. His waistcoat and matching cravat were patterned in burgundy. He caught her studying him and she flushed. He grinned, and allowed her to lead into the gated area. Their pace was leisurely, a stroll just as she might expect to experience in London.
"I like you in that color, Mr. Thornton. It goes very well with your coloring," she said quietly, smiling.
"Thank you," he said with a small nod. "I am sorry to hear your mother continues to struggle with her melancholy."
"Yes, and it is very confusing to me. I have spoken with my father about it, and it is frustrating to him, too. I think we three have all struggled to adjust a bit, but it is to the point where she is not interested in trying to become part of the community. Mr. Thornton, she had not even left the house in quiet some time. She ate with us when Mr. Bell visited last night but left right after dinner was over. There was a time they would stay up quite late into the night visiting, but even Mr. Bell could not entertain her."
"Perhaps you should let her be?" he suggested. "Instead, support your father and continue to find a place for yourself here. You cannot make her feel better if she chooses not to."
"I suppose you are right. It does bother my father, but as you say, perhaps the happier he becomes here, the better my mother will accept it, too."
"You can hope. Obviously, I do not know your mother at all, but I do respect your father… and you." The smile he gave her was so sweet it sent a shiver down her spine. "When we spoke about your visit to Princeton while at the musical on Friday, I could see you were finding worthwhile ways to spend your time."
She nodded. "I am. Of course, I only spoke with you about the funny visit I had while in Princeton, not the two sadder visits. When you questioned me in the carriage today about aiding the poor in such a way that it prevents them from wanting to better themselves, I considered the two other visits I made." She paused. "Neither one of the women, or the older woman for that matter, can do much to help themselves out of the situation they find themselves."
"Tell me?" he urged.
"What?" she smiled.
"Tell me about your other visits and why these people cannot overcome their situations."
She glanced over her shoulder to see how close Fanny was. She trailed behind a short distance, far enough to hear them, but not close enough to be part of their conversation. Hopefully, they would become a bit further spaced so she could discuss her brother's situation.
"I asked her to give us a bit of space." He grinned. "Is she far enough do you think?"
Margaret nodded, smiling back at him. "Well, after our stop at the old woman's home, we went to the very edge of Princeton. I must tell you, these two visits were very hard for me. I was very sad about the situations the women were in. We visited with a young woman, she appeared even younger than I am, and she is very far into her confinement. Mrs. Donaldson thought she might deliver the baby in about a month. Her husband just died a few weeks ago from blood poisoning. It seems he was in a horrible accident at Mr. Hamper's mill, and part of his arm was caught in a machine." She looked up at him. "Are the mills so dangerous?"
Mr. Thornton nodded. "They certainly can be. I recall hearing about this man. He was one of Hamper's building managers, the youngest Hamper ever had, I believe. He was an overseer of the looms. It was a horrible accident. I did not realize he was married, or that he ended up passing away from his injuries."
"Mr. Hamper sent the man, Penrod was his name, to someone other than Donaldson to have his arm was amputated. It became infected, and he died." She shook her head. "The poor woman is in terrible straits. She has no family, and now she is about to have her baby. She cannot work, obviously, and Mrs. Donaldson said she will likely have to give up her baby to an orphanage. Oh, it makes me so sad." She looked away from his beautiful eyes. "I could not imagine losing a beloved husband or child, but both?"
"What is Mrs. Donaldson doing for her?" He actually sounded grieved.
"Other than the charity baskets, she is visiting often. She used some of the monetary donations to pay for the woman's rent through January. Mrs. Donaldson is the midwife for many Princeton families, so she will see to the delivery. I was very sad for Mrs. Penrod when I left. I am certain she could never have imagined herself being in such a situation."
"Will you go back and see her?" he asked.
"Yes, I would like to. She definitely needs a friend. She cried the whole time we were there." She frowned, remembering the young woman's red rimmed eyes and lack of energy. "I wish I had a bit more experience to know what to say, or how I might help."
"I do not think anyone is ever prepared for such a thing," he said quietly. "I am certain just having you visit was a comfort to her."
"That is kind of you to say, but I felt very uncomfortable. Not with her, or her situation, but my inability to help make it better."
"You will understand now, perhaps, why it is my policy not to interfere in my hands' private lives," he looked down at her, meeting her eyes. "I pay the best wage I possibly can, and according to market principles, it should be sufficient to cover the expenses of my workers."
She shook her head. "Economics is not my forte, sir. However, I understand what you are saying. Tell me, though, if Mr. Penrod had been one of your hands, would you have helped his widow?"
He nodded. "Yes. One of my close friends has a mill in Yorkshire. Following a devastating fire, he cared for the families of the men who passed away. I admired his kindness, and vowed that should that ever happen here, I would act the same. We all carry insurance for such situations, and I would do what I could to help at least keep her child. I feel for this Penrod woman, perhaps I could speak with Hamper?"
"Perhaps." She nodded. "If you find the opportunity, but Mr. Thornton, I am not telling you this in order for you to change anything."
"I know, Miss Hale, but I would not be opposed to helping you, especially as it troubled you so greatly."
She paused and looked up at him, smiling. "Thank you, that is very kind of you."
"You are quite welcome."
They walked on for a bit. Her heart was fluttering in her chest and she was rather certain it was not from too much exertion. He carried a scent today she had not noticed before, a woodsy, musky scent that fit him so well. She wanted very much to rest her hand on his arm, but he had not offered it. She was trying hard to balance between flirting, being demure and being too forward.
"Do you wish to discuss your final visit?" he asked politely.
"As long as you are not tiring of hearing my voice?" she teased.
"Not at all, Miss Hale."
"We are becoming friends, are we not?" she asked.
An odd look crossed his face, one she could not quite understand. Had she surprised him?
"Yes, I would like to think so," he answered.
"Good," she said. "Would you please call me Margaret? At least when it is just the two of us talking. My father would not be offended if you used my first name in our home as well."
He grinned. "I would be pleased to do so."
"Very good." She nodded. That was a bit forward, but not too drastic. "My last visit might be concerning to you, I suppose. I did not know when we went whose home we were visiting, but I came to learn it is the home of one of the union organizers."
"Oh?" he asked, frowning. Then he scoffed. "He needs a charity basket?"
"It is more for his daughter, Mr. Thornton. Her name is Bessie, and she is just my age. Higgins is the family's name." She looked up at him. "Do you know of him?"
He nodded. "I know the name. He works for Hamper, too."
"Yes, that is what the girl told me." She paused wondering if she should continue. "She, Bessie that is, worked for you, though, before she took ill. I believe she said she was in a carding room? Does that sound right?"
"Yes." He nodded.
She could see he was getting a bit prickly, so she remained quiet for a few minutes, hoping he might change the subject to something more comfortable for him. Of course, he would not want to speak of work on a Sunday. She was a fool!
"Might we go down to the pond?" she asked. She could see ducks floating peacefully.
"Of course," he said, "whatever you would like."
She gave him a big smile and walked ahead of him a bit, hoping to regain some of her composure. How foolish that she brought up his work. She could just kick herself. Fanny, not Mr. Thornton, was standing next to her when she turned.
"John saw someone he knew."
Margaret turned to look. Mr. Thornton was talking with an older gentleman and a much younger woman. Could it be his daughter? The way the woman was looking at the gentleman made Margaret think they might be romantically involved. Margaret looked away, toward the ducks on the pond. It was not so uncommon for an older gentleman to marry a much younger woman.
"Are you enjoying the walk?" Fanny asked.
"Yes," Margaret turned to her with a smile. "Thank you for coming along."
"My pleasure. I would like to know you better, too. Mother likes you, which is quite rare. Mother does not like many people in general."
Margaret laughed. "I am happy to pass her approval, then. Fanny, I am happy for you and Mr. Slickson."
Fanny leaned over toward her, "You should call him Walter, or I will think of his ugly father. How someone who looks like that oaf can have such a handsome son, I will never understand."
"Well, as pretty as you are Fanny, you will likely have very pretty children, especially little girls with your curly blond hair." Margaret smiled. "My cousin Edith is also blond. Her baby son has the most adorable curls."
"I should have thought ahead to bring some bread for the ducks," Mr. Thornton said, as he was rejoining them. "I should also have introduced you to Ralph Pearson." He pointed over his shoulder toward the man. "Fanny that was his new wife. I think he said her name is Eliza or Elizabeth."
"Where did he find her, I wonder?" Fanny studied the woman over her shoulder. "She is quite a bit younger."
"That she is." He nodded. "He was a friend of our father, Miss Hale. We have known him quite some time."
"Are there usually more people in the park?" Margaret asked. "I suppose when the weather is warmer more people come out?"
"Yes," Fanny agreed. "In the summer months it can be quite crowded."
"Do you know, I am not certain I have seen a bird in Crampton." Margaret frowned.
"Occasionally we get swallows in the building rafters. We have been known to have bats, too," Mr. Thornton said. "But song birds as you see there," he pointed across the pond at a shrub where a small group perched, "are definitely rare in town. Here they have both water and foliage to thrive."
She moved away a bit, studying the park grounds. It would be a nice spot to have a picnic one day, although around the pond itself there were not many shade trees, but in Milton there were not many sunny days anyway. She could imagine herself one day bringing her children here to run off some of their energy as her parents often made her do in Helstone. She smiled at that image, and then became ashamed at herself for skipping so far ahead.
"What has you smiling, Margaret?" Mr. Thornton asked. He had come to walk next to her again.
"Oh, just imagining how lovely this place must be in the summer, with leaves on the trees and green grass," she lied. She liked the way her name sounded on his lips.
"I suppose when I think of this place, that is how I imagine it, no matter what the season," he said.
She looked over her shoulder again, wondering where Fanny was. They were on the back end of the park now, with only a short walk and then a corner to cover before reaching the carriage again. She thought it was best she tell Mr. Thornton about her brother before they reach their destination.
"My father and Mr. Bell have both asked that I talk with you about my family today."
"Oh?" His thick dark browns climbed in question. "Is there something I do not know? You have a widowed Aunt named Anna Shaw in London. Her daughter is your dearest friend and she married a man named Lennox. You are an only child, and your parents first lived in London when they married, later Helstone and now here."
"Very good." She smiled wide. "You are a very good listener, sir." She tipped her head. "However, there is one inaccuracy that I must clear up." She sighed. "I am not exactly certain how to begin, so forgive me if it does not come out just right." She looked up at him and smiled. "I am not an only child. I have an older brother."
"A brother? It is odd your father has not mentioned a son to me. Where is he?"
"My brother's name is Frederick. The last we heard from him, he was in Spain." She stopped walking and looked up at him. "Papa did not mention him because he is a fugitive, Mr. Thornton. Being that you are a magistrate here in Milton, he did not think it wise to… involve you in the situation. But, as you have become a frequent guest in our home, he thought it would be prudent for us to share the information with you."
"What did he do?" Mr. Thornton asked quietly. Any sign of happiness was now gone from his face. He was all business, assessing her critically.
"So, here is the story I have been given. Frederick is eight years older than I am, so what I know I learned from my parents. When Fred turned eighteen, he enlisted in the Navy. He was excited to see the world, knew that school was not for him and definitely not the ministry. I was in London at the time and did not even get the chance to say goodbye to him. It was difficult on my mother to see him go. I think that was perhaps when her health first began to decline. It was at that time that they had me stay for almost the whole year in London." She shook her head trying to refocus. "Anyway, Frederick was last on a ship called The Russell under the command of a Captain Reid. According to my father, who only has information from my brother, this Captain Reid was an abusive tyrant. Fred and a number of other men mutinied, put Reid on a smaller ship with the other ranking officers, and took over control of The Russell." She started walking again. "Papa read about the mutiny in the newspaper long before he heard from Frederick. The Captain and officers were found by a West-Indian steam ship, and the Captain was able to list all the mutineers. My brother's name was on that list."
"I see."
It was the reaction she had expected. John Thornton was Milton's Magistrate. She just admitted to be related to a fugitive from the Royal Navy. Given his reaction, there was little hope of a future with him, sadly.
"I was just nine the last time I saw him. It was about this time of the year, before Christmas. I do not think I would even recognize him should I see him again someday."
"He escaped?"
"Yes," she said. "Again, the details are not clear, whether Fred did not tell my father or Papa wanted to keep my knowledge and involvement to a minimum, I cannot say. One letter, just before the mutiny, was mailed from France. The rest have all been from Spain."
"Surely the Royal Navy was monitoring your home?" He pressed. "Perhaps even your aunt's home? The mail?"
"Yes, they did for a time," she nodded. "It has been almost eight years now since the mutiny occurred, it seems they have more pressing matters to attend to. Although, my father was concerned the dead man at our home could be related somehow to Frederick's behavior. Your constable did say he was wearing some military issued clothing, but I dare say it would be a bit of coincidence."
"Is there a bounty for recovery of your brother?"
She nodded. "I have no idea how much, but yes. Papa said dead or alive." She shivered. Although she and Fred were so far apart in age, she did have nice memories of him when she was smaller, when he would read to her or play outside with her.
"It is possible this dead man was monitoring your home in Helstone and followed your move to see if you were meeting your brother here?"
She bit her lip. She had wondered the same thing. "Would it not be foolish of Fred to come back to England?"
"Depends," Mr. Thornton said. "Perhaps Spain was not to his liking. When did your father last hear from him?"
"I believe it was late summer," she said.
"He did not indicate a desire to come home and see your parents?"
She shook her head. "He has always seemed content in Spain. He wrote last year to tell us he planned to marry a Spanish girl, but we never heard of an actual wedding."
He stopped walking and faced her. "You do realize, I hope, that I cannot keep this a secret. If something happens in which he is involved, here in Milton or anywhere else in England, I must admit what I know."
"Of course." She nodded. "What I have told you, Papa has already told authorities, except for the part about him possibly being connected to the death of that man on our back steps. That is just conjecture."
"Thank you for trusting me, Margaret," he said. He looked down at his feet and then glanced back up at her. "Is there a reason why your father could not tell me?"
She smiled sadly. "Papa does not like conflict. He worried what your reaction might be, thus, I was given the task. I was also given the task of organizing the move here and choosing an appropriate home. I am not certain how my parents functioned when I was in London, neither seems capable of making any decisions of consequence."
She was done talking now. In truth, she was worn out from the discussion. It was clear Mr. Thornton was no longer interested in courting her. He had even moved further away from her as they started walking again, toward the carriage. It was better to be honest now, her heart was involved, but not to the point of grieving his loss.
"Have you learned about my father's death from Mr. Bell?" he asked.
"Yes," she answered.
"We lived through that scandal, and came out better on the end, but while it was brewing, while Mother recovered from both the shock and embarrassment, it was very difficult. I am certain that is what your parents experienced, and you too, perhaps to a lesser degree as you were young and away with you aunt. It was painful, and even though I had nothing to do with his behavior, just as you did not, there remained a stigma nonetheless. Even today, I think of the man I thought he was, and how it differed from the man he really was."
They reached the turn that would lead them toward his carriage and he stopped. He turned toward Fanny.
"It is good you did not allow his failure to become your impediment to success," Margaret said quietly, Fanny was close enough now to hear their conversation.
"I believe it was the exact opposite," Mr. Thornton argued. "His failure propelled me to find success."
She nodded. "I congratulate you on your resiliency in the face of adversity, Mr. Thornton. I daresay most would not have triumphed."
She understood what he was saying, without him speaking bluntly. Because of his struggle to find success, he would not tie himself to her, someone with scandal still brewing within her family. She could not, would not blame him, and yet she longed for him to overlook the indiscretion.
"Are we done?" Fanny asked, a smile on her face as she rejoined them.
"We are," he answered, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
How odd that two words could imply so much. They were not only done with their stroll, but Margaret feared her budding romance with John Thornton was also finished.
