Chapter Fourteen
On Wednesday morning, Margaret was floating on air, albeit it was smoggy and gray, Milton, air. His thoughts were on anything but the weather, though. She was now keeping company with John. It became official the night before when both of her parents readily consented. John had not appeared nervous, although when she walked him to the door, as he left her for the evening, he admitted he was indeed uncertain how her mother especially would react. He had never asked such a thing from a parent, and he worried they would not find him suitable for Margaret. Aunt Shaw might find him inferior, but Margaret knew John had a true heart, intelligent mind, and integrity she had never seen before.
When she and her mother had joined her father after John's lesson, Margaret had been stunned by how cordially her mother greeted John. It had been a shock, really, how kind her mother had been. For fifteen minutes, her mother had seemed like her old normal self. She even went so far as to say she was honored that John should consider bringing Margaret into his life. She and her father had exchanged surprised glances, but Margaret could not be happier with the outcome.
She was now headed to Rupert Lewis' dress shop to put the finishing touches on the hem of her gown. It had truly been a work of love, making this dress for herself. As it came together, she got more and more excited. She even knew how she wanted to dress her hair and which pair of earrings she would wear. As she was daydreaming, she hardly realized she had already arrived at Threads. As she reached to open the heavy wooden door, it opened toward her and out stepped none other than the man she had been daydreaming about, John Thornton.
Flustered, she stood silently. He was turned sideways, saying goodbye to Rupert. He had yet to realize she was standing there, and when he did turn, a look of delight crossed his handsome face. He stepped fully out onto the sidewalk and with a huge smile, took her hand, and squeezed it.
"Good morning, Margaret." He pulled her gloved hand to his lips. "What a wonderful surprise. How is it that you are here so early?"
She could not tell him of the arrangement she and Rupert had made. It would be embarrassing to admit to John that her family did not have the funds to buy her a new dress for the ball. He did their family was financially strapped, but for her to admit it outright … well, she did not wish to do that. She did have some pride left.
"Hello!" She smiled brightly. "I am fetching my dress for the Harvest Ball. Mr. Lewis said he would steam it for me and have it ready today."
"Ah, I see." His eyes were so bright today, and a grin played around the edges of his lips. He looked as giddy as Margaret felt. Did men get nervous butterflies in their stomachs?
"And what brings you here, Mr. Thornton?" Smiling, she turned the question back on him. She looked down at his empty hands. "You are leaving without anything."
"Oh… Ah… Well…" he stumbled. He looked away as if he too, was hiding something from her. "I had a waistcoat and new cravat sewn. Rupert wanted to get the final measurements in case I had grown taller or wider."
"Taller or wider?" She laughed. "With the amount of physical work you do, John, I do not think you will ever need to worry about growing wider, and I do believe men of your age have ceased growing taller. Of course, I could be wrong about that."
The smile remained fixed upon his face. "I have not grown in a decade or more. You, however," he actually tapped her on top of her head, "could use a few inches yet," he teased.
"John Thornton," she said through her laughter. "I am not terribly short; it is just that you are so very tall. Much like Jack and the Beanstalk."
"Jack and the Beanstalk?" He smiled. "What is that?"
"Well, it is a story of a young man that eats magic beans and grows into a giant." She frowned. "I think I have that correct. Hmm. No, I don't." She shook her head. "That is the story of a boy who plants magic beans and one stalk grows so high into the sky that he can climb up the beanstalk and into a castle of a mean giant." She continued to frown. "There is a story about a boy eating magic beans and growing quite large, but I cannot recall the name."
"Perhaps when we meet again, you will have remembered it?" He kissed her hand again. He sighed. "As much as I hate to leave you here, today is market day and I must be off. The auction lots I wish to buy are up early today. Usually, it is the afternoon when I find the best supplies, but not today. I will see you tomorrow evening?"
"Of course," she said. "I will also be sewing with your mother tomorrow afternoon."
"You did not show me your Poe stitching piece last night," he said softly.
"There was too much excitement," she admitted, smiling. "Remind me tomorrow?"
"I shall do that," he pledged. "We should also read The Raven together. I read it years ago, and a Tell-Tale Heart."
"I will enjoy that." She tilted up her head, wanting more than anything to have him kiss her again.
Rupert opened the door, reminding her they were together on a very public New Street in the heart of Milton. She stepped back, embarrassed.
"I thought I saw you, Miss Hale." Rupert smiled at her. In a brotherly gesture, he tried to coax her inside. "You better come in before you catch your death of cold. We would not wish you to miss the dance on Friday, now would we, Mr. Thornton." Rupert winked at John.
"Definitely not. I am anxious to see Miss Hale's new gown," John said. He glanced at Rupert. "I am certain anything you have made for her is perfect in every way."
Rupert puffed out his chest. "I do try my best."
Margaret wanted to laugh. Rupert had spent a very short time on her gown, just helping her to get the sleeves correct. It was difficult to have the gown on and size the sleeves at the same time, and he had been very quick and efficient with the fitting. She had never worked with a male tailor before, all the modistes in London had been women, some who came from France and some who pretended they did.
"Good luck at the market today, Mr. Thornton," Margaret said. "I will see you tomorrow."
John smiled and tipped his hat. "I am looking forward to it. Have a good day, Lewis."
She waited until John turned and walked away before she followed Rupert into the shop.
"I made certain not to show the dress to Mr. Thornton." He grinned at her. "It seems things have improved between the two of you since Monday?"
She smiled and nodded. "After I left here yesterday, he met me at the mill house. I shared lunch with him and his mother, and then he gave me a tour of the whole of Marlborough Mills. Then, last night, he asked to court me." She grabbed his hand in excitement. "My parents said yes, as did I!"
"Oh, what wonderful news, Margaret," Rupert squealed right along with her. "It turned out just as you hoped."
She nodded. "It did. Now all I can hope is that the rest of Milton society accepts it as easily as my parents and Mrs. Thornton."
"They will," Rupert soothed, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. "Now, let us see to finishing up this dress, Miss Margaret Hale so you may stun them all into silence on Friday evening."
She chuckled, certain that would not happen. However, she did enjoy the man's flamboyance and enthusiasm. It had been entertaining working here with him this past week. He had a very good singing voice and loved to use it. A few times she had added her voice, but only when it was in the key, she felt confident singing in. Nonetheless, she would be glad when she had the dress paid in full and could sleep in a little longer each morning.
John's morning had been exceedingly productive. Unexpectantly meeting Margaret had set the tone for the day. Her smile was enough to make him happy for the whole day. As he walked back to the mill, following his time at the market, all he could think about was waking up with her each morning, her smile being the first thing he saw every day. Perhaps he was putting the cart before the horse, but a life with her was quickly becoming the dream of his heart.
He arrived back at the mill before the noon bell. He went down to the weaving floor first, knowing his mother was likely making final rounds, just before the mill cleared out for the lunch break. She was easy to spot, as she was always dressed in staid black. She was talking with a woman who was holding a small child on her hip. John would not interrupt at the moment, but he would ask after they were alone what they had been speaking about. When the bell rang, he stepped back against the wall and watched as his hands virtually ran from the mill.
Most stopped for a moment and respectfully tipped their heads to him and his mother, but he wasn't offended by those who did not. This was a cherished break for his employees during the day and he would never try to delay their freedom. Once the shed was cleared, except for him and his mother. He sighed, relishing the sudden quiet.
"How did the market day go? Must you return this afternoon?" his mother asked.
He shook his head. "I did not realize the Egyptian shipment was coming today. I expected it after the first of the year. I was able to get some bundles for a good price, just not as much as I had budgeted for in February."
"John." She grabbed hold of his arm as he turned toward the office. He stopped and turned back to her. "Miss Latimer insisted on waiting in your office for you to return."
He looked up to the large glass window of his office which overlooked the dozens of looms on the weaving floor. Miss Latimer was looking down at them and when she saw him look up at her, she smiled and waved.
"What does she want?" he asked.
"You," his mother said, with a snort.
"Me?" He frowned. "I thought she would have given up that prospect. Especially after yesterday with my interactions with Margaret."
She nodded. "Yes, you would think she would be clever enough to realize your heart is engaged elsewhere, but apparently not. Was it not just last week she brought you lunch and you refused?"
He moaned. "Yes." He did not want to think of that incident. "You better come up with me, Mother. I do not wish to be accused of compromising her honor."
The two Thorntons began the short walk from the back of the weaving shed to the office. His mother was a quiet woman, and he was not surprised when she said nothing further about Miss Latimer. She was a judgmental woman, but fortunately, she did not add color to the details of Miss Latimer's presence as of late.
Miss Latimer would take advantage of any opening he allowed. She had become rather bold since he was first with Margaret at the operetta. Two weeks in a row now, she had come for lunch, uninvited. Yesterday, she had come with her mother to the sewing meeting at the mill house. Instead of leaving when her mother did, Miss Latimer somehow finagled her way to the dinner table. Margaret was there, of course, by his invitation, and because of Margaret's presence, Miss Latimer had increased her annoying flirtation. She hung on his every word, laughed at everything he said, whether it was funny or not, and when they retired for a short time to the parlor, she made certain to brush against his body more than once. John was incredibly relieved when it was time to leave with Margaret for his evening lesson with her father.
John was both impressed, and a bit curious why Margaret seemed oblivious to the blatant advances Miss Latimer made toward him. Of course, he did not return Miss Latimer's attention, thus Margaret had nothing to be concerned about. Given the cozy ride to Margaret's home last night, he believed she was confident in his interest in only her, regardless of Miss Latimer fawning over him. Miss Latimer had always made him uncomfortable. He never knew when she would grab his arm, or say something obnoxious and silly. For Fanny's sake, he would always be polite, but he did not trust Miss Latimer, and would never be alone with her.
He and his mother climbed the short staircase, and onto the flat, viewing platform under his office. He allowed his mother to proceed him into the office. For a moment, Miss Latimer's smile faltered, but it was a quick slip, and if he had not been watching, he would have missed it. Had the teachers at her fancy school taught her how to smile, even though an uncomfortable situation?
"Miss Latimer." He nodded his head politely. "What can we do for you today?"
She walked closer to him, still wearing the coy smile. "Mr. Williams said you would be back here at lunchtime. I thought perhaps you might enjoy my company for lunch?"
John's jaw tightened. He did not want to have lunch with her, but he also could not afford to offend her. He had to keep her father, John's banker, happy, but he was unwilling to pretend to care for Miss Latimer when he did not.
"Mother, is Fanny at the house?" He turned to see her reaction.
She nodded. "Yes, she was practicing the new sheet music Margaret brought her yesterday."
"Well, then let us all go," John suggested.
Miss Latimer touched his arm to stop him from leaving. "I thought perhaps just you and I might spend some time together." Today, she was much more forward than usual.
John glanced at his mother, and then back at Miss Latimer.
"That will not be possible, Miss Latimer," he said gently. "You see, Miss Hale and I are presently involved in a courtship, and I would not do anything to jeopardize my relationship with her. If you and I were seen in company with each other, it might appear… inappropriate… to Miss Hale, and others of our acquaintance."
"When did that begin?" Miss Latimer asked. She looked crestfallen. She blinked quickly. "Fanny has not said anything."
He was glad to hear that.
"Fanny was asked not to share her brother's business," his mother answered. "We encourage her not to discuss the family's personal life with anyone."
"But I thought…" Miss Latimer let her voice trail off and her frown grew.
"You thought?" John prodded, raising a brow.
She shook her head. "I thought you were developing an attachment to me," her voice was a mere whisper.
Well, he did appreciate her bluntness. He paused to come up with a kind, but firm response.
"I appreciate your friendship with Fanny," he said, gently. "I have no romantic notions toward you, Miss Latimer."
She gasped. "None?"
He slowly shook his head. "I apologize if you were led to believe otherwise. I pray Fanny did not make you believe there was a chance with me."
Miss Latimer nodded rapidly. "She did!" She covered her face. "Oh, I am so embarrassed." She looked up at him. "Fanny told me you were a busy man and the only way I could gain your attention was to visit you here at the mill and to be at the mill house whenever you would be home. She would often tell me what she thought your schedule was for the day. When you began your lessons with Mr. Hale it was difficult to see you. And then she said you had escorted Miss Hale to the operetta out of pity and a sense of responsibility to her father."
"I am sorry Fanny gave you such impressions, Miss Latimer," his mother said. She shook her head, a frown on her face. She was likely as frustrated with Fanny as he was. "John has always been cautious in expressing his feelings to his sister. You must know she does not always do well to keep confidences."
Miss Latimer nodded. Her eyes were pleading. "My mother also said you would choose to marry me. She told me I was the finest young lady in all of Milton, said all I had to do was spend time with you, Mr. Thornton, and you could not help but fall in love with me. Then Miss Hale," she snarled the name, "showed up."
And thank goodness she did, John added silently. She had already made his life better just by coming to Milton.
"I will be honest and tell you, Miss Latimer, I was not interested in pursuing any type of romantic relationship with you." He swallowed. Would she start crying? John hated tears. "Even if Miss Hale had not come, I would continue as a bachelor."
"No man in your position should be a bachelor! You need a hostess, a wife to run your household. You need a Milton girl who is part of our society. Miss Hale is a London girl. She doesn't understand us. Besides, when you would come to dinner with Papa, he said you were coming because of me."
"No." He sighed. "I came to visit with your father, who is my banker and business associate."
She shook her head in distress. "I am such a fool." She grabbed his arm and squeezed. "Can you forgive me?"
John gently removed Miss Latimer's hand from his arm and stepped away from her. "I am not angry or upset with you, Miss Latimer. You will always be welcome in our home as Fanny's guest. Just realize I am planning a future with Miss Hale."
His mother cleared her throat. "We should go eat, John. You'll need to be back when the lunch bell calls everyone back.
"Yes," John agreed. "Miss Latimer, will you join us?"
She looked between him and his mother and then nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Thornton, I would enjoy that."
The three of them left his office and walked to the mill house. The yard was quiet, as everyone was eating their lunch or whatever they chose to do on their lunch break. His mother spoke quietly with Miss Latimer, about her mother and what she was planning to do for the rest of the day. His mother invited her again for the sewing meeting the following day. He heard Miss Latimer say she would consider it.
Glad to have set the situation straight with Miss Latimer, they enjoyed a fine lunch. Fanny had been excited to see her friend and after lunch, the two borrowed the Thornton coach and went shopping. He returned to work after thanking his mother for working the morning at the mill and also helping him deflect Miss Latimer.
"John," she said, just as he started down the stairs of the mill house toward the front door. "I do not know what the fallout might be from Mr. Latimer. I do think he and his wife will not be pleased you have spurned Anne."
He grinned. "You would have me marry Anne to avoid upsetting the Latimers?"
"No," his mother answered cautiously. "Just be ready for his ire. Knowing the way Mr. Latimer operates, he will not come right out and express his displeasure, but when you approach him for an extension on an addition to, a loan, you will witness his unhappiness."
"Do not worry, Mother. I have new options should I find myself in a financial bind." He kissed her cheek. "It's my night at the Men's Club, so I won't see you again until the morning."
She nodded silently, but her face still showed the worry about the repercussions of his rebuke of Miss Latimer. He was not worried. If he did not have Margaret, he might be concerned, but he was certain she, along with her connections to Mr. Bell would be plenty to make him happy and keep the mill afloat, regardless of the tough days which might or may not be approaching.
"Dixon, what in the world happened?"
Margaret walked through the unlocked front door at the house in Crampton, shocked to see Dixon sweeping up tiny shards of glass. Margaret removed her coat and threw it on the staircase banister. She turned to see where the glass originated. An enormous hole gaped in the window to the left of the door. She tip-toed around the glass, tempted to bend and pick up the larger pieces but decided instead, she would allow Dixon to sweep up the smaller pieces.
"How did it break?" Margaret whispered.
"There is a huge rock on the stairs, Miss Margaret," Dixon answered quietly, nodding her head toward the stairs. "A note is secured to it."
"Tied to it?"
Dixon nodded.
"Were you hurt, Dixon?"
"No, Miss Margaret, I was upstairs tending to your mother. I heard a glass break, and at first, I did not think it was here. The houses are so close, that they could have been at either neighbor's home. Once your mother was settled, I came downstairs and saw the mess."
Margaret glanced at the stairs, a knot forming in her stomach. A dead body, and now a broken window. Margaret was dying to see what the note said, but she had to help Dixon clean up the mess first. The two incidents had to be connected. The dead body was scary, but someone could have gotten hurt this time. Margaret glanced at the rock as she walked past the stairs to the small closet at the end of the hall. Inside, she found her oldest pair of gloves. Pulling them on, she walked back to the foyer looking for a garbage bin.
"Do you have a trash bin, Dixon?"
"No Miss, I forgot to grab one, I was so flustered, that I did not know what to do."
Margaret rested her hand on Dixon's shoulder. "I am so sorry this happened when you were home alone with Mama."
"You will have to go back to the constable," Dixon said.
Margaret nodded silently, as she turned and walked into her father's study to grab his trash bin. She quickly rejoined Dixon, wanting to get the mess cleaned up.
"I suppose I will have to take the rock to Sergeant Snipes," Margaret agreed. "We also must find a board to cover the window until it can be repaired. I think I must apply to Mr. Thornton for that."
With her gloves now on, Margaret picked up the larger pieces of sharp glass and placed them cautiously into the trash. She then bent over and held the dustpan for Dixon to sweep in the smaller fragments. When it was full, Margaret dumped it in the trash. The window had shattered into so many small bits. It was three full dustpans of glass, plus the larger sections Margaret had put in the trash.
"Did you read the note?" Margaret asked.
"No," Dixon answered with a quick shake of her head. "I am just glad your mother and I will be leaving in two days. I think you should join us, Miss Margaret. It will be safer for you in London."
"You know I cannot leave Milton." Margaret scooped up the final pieces of glass. "I must remain with Papa, and now I have committed myself to keep company with Mr. Thornton. I believe he will guarantee my safety."
"How can he do that when rocks are now being thrown through our windows?" Dixon asked. "What if the person would have crawled through the window and attacked us?"
Foolishly, Margaret had not even considered that possibility. The window was several feet off the ground, at least four feet, she would guess. Margaret wondered if a person could climb that high. She supposed if someone was determined enough to do so, they could. That made her shiver.
"I suppose we must be relieved that did not happen." She glanced at the stairs. "Did you move the rock or is that where it landed?"
"I moved it so I could sweep," Dixon said. "Shall we open the note, or do you think you should wait to show the constable."
Margaret picked up the rock. It was heavy, and it was as large as the palm of her hand. What if Dixon had been struck by that? Or her mother? It would have knocked either of them out cold or maybe even worse. Margaret sat heavily on the bottom step and pondered what she should do.
"I better wait to unbind it until I show the constable." She frowned, turning the rock in her hands. "Should I go right to Mr. Thornton, or to Sergeant Snipes?" She looked up from the rock to Dixon. "Perhaps I should wait for Papa?"
"I do not think I would wait, Miss Margaret. Especially because of the window. We need that closed for the night. It will certainly get cold this evening. No matter how much coal and wood we have, it will still be cold in here. We never know for certain what time your father will return home, either. If you wait too long, you might miss Sergeant Snipes."
Margaret nodded slowly. It would be another long walk, back to New Street, perhaps all the way to Marlborough Mills. Tonight, was John's Men's Club meeting, but she was not certain what time that started. It was just after lunchtime now, so if she did walk back there, she would probably meet up with him before he left. She knew how serious he was about the mill business and she did not want to disrupt him.
"I dread walking all the way back there again today. Dixon, I was so spoiled in London." She laughed self-consciously. "I could call for Aunt Shaw's carriage anytime. Even in Helstone, Papa would let me drive the two-seater horse and carriage if I needed to visit parishioners or neighbors."
"You will again have access to such fineries, Miss Margaret," Dixon sad. She took the broom and dustpan in one hand and the garbage bin in the other. "Mr. Thornton will treat you right. I do think you could find a better man in London, someone with a background more similar to yours. Since you are determined to stay here, I would say Thornton is the best of the lot." She paused. "You know I do not listen to gossip, but I must tell you the maids who visit the market have only good things to say about Mr. Thornton and Marlborough Mills. They do call his mother a dragon, but they all say Mr. Thornton pays the best, shows more respect toward employees, and is fair. He has also been very respectful to your parents and it is quite obvious he has an attachment to you."
"My goodness, Dixon, that was quite a long speech from you." Margaret chuckled.
"It is all true, Miss Margaret. I felt it was time to tell you my opinion. Your mother does not see and hear what I do. I believe your dear father would agree with me, too."
Margaret nodded. "Alright, Dixon. Where should I allow my feet to lead me?"
Dixon leaned against the broom with a sigh. "I say, go right to the top, Miss Margaret. Mr. Thornton will guide you and make certain the window gets fixed."
"I think you're right." She stood up from the stairs and shook the wrinkles from her skirt. "Off to Marlborough Mills, I go."
It was over an hour before Margaret saw the iron archway that covered the road leading into Marlborough Mills. She did not feel comfortable going right to John's office. Yes, she had just been given a tour of the mill the day before, and they were courting, but to interrupt his workday was something different. So, she chose instead to go to the mill house and have Mrs. Thornton provide her with some motherly counsel.
Jane was at the door within minutes of Margaret's knock. She welcomed Margaret inside, took her outer gear, and then led Margaret up the stairs, telling her that Mrs. Thornton was in the parlor stitching.
Margaret had kept her carpetbag with her; the rock resting safely inside. She did not know if she would show it to Mrs. Thornton or not, but the older woman would know if Margaret should trouble John with the issue, or instead just go to Sergeant Snipes.
"Miss Hale is here, Mrs. Thornton," Jane announced before Margaret walked inside.
Mrs. Thornton looked up from her stitching. Her face was grave, and Margaret worried she had interrupted her.
"Come in, Margaret," she welcomed. "I am fighting with this section of my needlework piece and it has frustrated me for the past half-hour." She set it aside and smiled at her. "You have come at the perfect time to give me an excuse to take a break from it. Come, sit? What has you visiting?"
"May I close the door?" Margaret asked before sitting.
"Of course." Mrs. Thornton waved toward the door.
After Margaret closed it, she did accept the seat that Mrs. Thornton offered.
"What is the matter? Is it your mother?"
Margaret shook her head. "No. She is fine today. She will be going with our maid to London on Saturday. I think I told you that already?"
Mrs. Thornton nodded.
"This is something else entirely. Has John told you about the dead body found at our back door?"
She gasped "I knew there was a body found in Crampton, yes. I did not realize it was at your home."
"Yes, it was quite a shock," Margaret agreed.
"I can only imagine. That has been several weeks already, has something else happened?"
"Yes, I am afraid so." Margaret sighed. It felt good to share her worry with another person. "A large rock was thrown through one of our first-level windows. It shattered the window, and there is a note attached to it. My father is off tutoring, so it left just my maid and me to clean up."
"What did the note say?" Mrs. Thornton asked.
"I have not unwrapped it yet." Margaret reached in her bag, pulled out the rock, and handed it to Mrs. Thornton. "We need some wood to board up the window, at least until it can be fixed."
She watched Mrs. Thornton study the rock.
"I didn't know if I should go to Sergeant Snipes or straight to John," Margaret said.
Mrs. Thornton handed her back the rock. "You made the right choice coming to John, but why come here, to the house, first?"
Margaret felt her face flush. She covered her embarrassment with a chuckle. "I did not think it would be proper to bother him at work, and I thought you could give me guidance." She looked at Mrs. Thornton with sad eyes. "I have no one else to turn to," there was a catch in her voice, "except your family."
"Well, I believe this is a sufficient reason to interrupt him." Mrs. Thornton stood up. "Come along. We shall see just how busy he is."
"I know he goes to his club tonight." Margaret also stood. She was ready to get this rock out of her possession. "I hope this will not delay his evening plans."
"It's early enough. He usually works until five on Wednesdays."
Margaret nodded and followed Mrs. Thornton down the stairs, replaced her outerwear, and followed the older woman toward the mill. Margaret admired the other woman's confidence so much. Perhaps someday she would feel that self-assured, but right now, she felt like a lost, weak kitten.
