"I ask not for a lighter burden, but broader shoulders."

~Jewish Proverb

Chapter Sixteen

"Shall we start with the most difficult room first, Miss Hale?" Sergeant Snipes asked kindly. "It is obvious from your explanations and behavior, as well as Mr. Thornton's that your mother is rather fragile." Leaning forward, he smiled softly. "I promise to be kind."

"Thank you, Sergeant," Margaret said. "You have never been anything but professional with me, and I appreciate that."

"If you wait here in the foyer, I will station my men and then we can go visit your mother together," Snipes said. He turned to Dixon. "Miss Dixon, may I ask that you please stay in the kitchen as we go throughout the house?"

Dixon looked first to Margaret who nodded curtly and then retreated to the back of the house, presumably into the kitchen. Margaret waited as he positioned three men within the house, with a clear view of the hallways and doors. She knew he had men outside, two in back, two in front. He had told them to assume their places even before she and Snipes entered the house. It seemed rather excessive to her, but she had to believe Snipes had a plan and whatever it took to prove they were not harboring a fugitive, she was willing to do.

After stationing the inside men where he needed them, he joined her in the foyer, and with a sweep of his hand, he encouraged her to climb the staircase to her mother's room. The house was small, so the distance was not great, even though her room was at the very end of the upper hallway.

"Where does that staircase lead?" Snipes asked as he pointed to the short staircase.

"The attic, where I sleep," she answered. The staircase was about half the height of a normal stairway.

Snipes continued to stare at it but didn't say anything more.

"Are you ready?" Margaret asked Snipes. When he nodded, she knocked on her mother's door. "Mama, may I come in?"

"Yes, child," came the weak reply.

Margaret turned to Snipes. "Allow me to make certain she is dressed properly to receive guests?"

He nodded. She opened the door a crack and peeked inside. Her mother was dressed in one of her favorite gowns. It was a dark grey dress, with small white flowers throughout. Her hair was almost entirely grey now, so the color was flattering on her. With its lacy collar and wrists, it looked so feminine and was exactly how Margaret always pictured her mother in her mind.

Margaret opened the door wider and walked inside, followed closely by Sergeant Snipes. Her mother glanced up from her stitching, and a look of confusion slid across her face. Snipes wore his formal uniform. Margaret ought to have better prepared her mother for this visit.

"Margaret is something amiss? Has something happened to your father?" Her voice was becoming shrill. "Why is there a police officer in our house?"

"Shhh," Margaret soothed. "All is well here, Mama." She walked to her mother and crouched in front of her. Taking her hands, she said, "Everyone is fine. This is Sergeant Snipes from the Milton police. It seems there have been break-ins in some homes within this neighborhood and he is checking homes to make certain the families are safe. He is also looking for evidence that someone may have been in the homes. That is why he needs to come and look in your room."

"But, Margaret, I rarely leave this room. Why must he be in here?" Her mother glanced at Snipes. "I haven't seen anything worrisome."

"I am very glad to know that, Mrs. Hale," Snipes told her mother. "I still must… examine this room to be certain nothing is overlooked."

Margaret squeezed her mother's hand. "I promise it will be fine, Mama. I will sit here right next to you." She sat cross-legged on the floor and looked up at Snipes. "Please proceed, Sergeant."

As Snipes moved through the room, the largest bedroom in the house, opening the wardrobes, and looking above and under things, Margaret sensed her mother's worry increasing. She decided to say something to distract her mother.

"Tomorrow I will not go to the sewing group, Mama. Instead, I shall stay home and help you pack for London."

"Dixon can help me, dear," her mother said. "I know how much you enjoy the sewing days and I would hate for you to miss one on my account."

She did enjoy the stitching days, but Margaret was a bit miffed at John at the moment and did not want to be forced to see him before he came for his lessons. Yes, he had helped her get to Snipes, but he also left when she could have used his support the most.

"Mrs. Hale, might I look behind your chair? I would like to check the window latches."

That required her mother to move and Margaret was not certain she would be willing to rise, but she surprised her. "Would it be easier if I stepped out of the room, Sergeant Snipes?"

He stared at her mother for several heartbeats and said, "Yes, that would be helpful, if you are willing. Miss Hale, you may stay, of course."

Margaret gently took her mother's arm, surprised at just how thin she had become, and led her into the hallway. "Would you like to sit on the attic steps, Mama?"

"No, no I can stand for a few minutes." Her mother shook her head. "I think he must have been almost finished when I stepped out."

"I will be just inside the door," Margaret pointed, before taking the few steps away from her mother.

Margaret watched as Snipes quietly pulled open drawers, and rooted through the wardrobe a bit more thoroughly. He pulled aside curtains, looked under the bed, and even behind the door. He caught sight of a small portrait Freddy had commissioned for their parents when he arrived at his first port after joining the Navy.

"This is your brother, is it not?" Sergeant Snipes asked. "Hold old is this picture, Miss Hale?"

"Yes." She moved closer and glanced down at the likeness of her brother's face. "I believe he must have been eighteen, perhaps nineteen? My father said he had some training before his assignment to his first ship. Perhaps, ten years ago?

"The Russell was not his first assignment?"

Margaret shook her head. "I believe it was his third ship. On his first voyage, he received some medals and was promoted when he reached his second ship. My father would have more details. I was quite young at the time and after the mutiny, his name was never brought up again." The end came out as a whisper. His name was almost sacred in this family.

"May I take this?" Snipes asked Margaret.

She stared at him. "Might I give it to you Saturday after I have my mother packed and on her way to London? If she notices it missing before then, I'll have to create an excuse."

He nodded. "I can accept that, Miss Hale. Just please do not forget."

"My father has one in his study," Margaret said. "It was drawn when Fred finished school, so it is about two years earlier than this one. Would that help you?"

Snipes nodded. "Will your father not miss it?"

"I worry less in confiding with my father about this situation. He has known the truth of the problems all along, although he does not yet know about the rock."

"I believe this room is clear." Snipes declared. "There is certainly nothing to suggest your brother is staying in this room or storing any of his personal items."

She wanted to say she had already told him that, but she refrained from doing so. The faster, and more cordially they could proceed through this investigation, the better.

Margaret walked out of the room and into the main hallway, surprised her mother had chosen to sit on the steps, after all.

"Mama, Sergeant Snipes is done in your room, you may go back in."

"Margaret, could you send Dixon up with my medicine, please?"

"Yes, of course," Margaret said. "Let us get you resettled."

She helped her mother stand and guided her back to the chair in her room. After covering her lap with a lap blanket, Margaret left, closing the door softly behind her.

"Sergeant, please feel free to go upstairs and search as you must. I need to get my mother her medication."

"Miss Hale, if I may ask, what does she take medication for and who has given them to her?"

"Dr. Donaldson visits my mother. He has given her two medicines. One for sleeping and one for what he calls low spirits. I have seen very little improvement; thus, my father and I thought a trip to see my aunt in London, her sister, might bring her some cheer."

"Donaldson is a good man." Snipes nodded. "I am sorry your mother is suffering."

She smiled slightly. "Thank you. I pray she will improve once away from here. This town has somehow broken her." Margaret shook her head. "Papa and I have adjusted the best we can, but Mama is weak." Margaret waved up the attic steps. "Search whatever you need to. There is a small closet just there." She pointed to the end of the hall, where a storage closet was situated under the stairs. "You may go through the attic, but please wait until I return to go into my father's room."

"Yes, Miss Hale."

As he walked to the end of the hall and opened the closet Margaret had indicated, she went down the main stairway, passed one man stationed at the bottom of the stairs, and found Dixon in the kitchen, sitting at the table, peeling potatoes.

"Dixon, Mama is asking for her medication. I am not certain which one she needs. Perhaps a pot of tea as well. Sergeant Snipes was very gentle with her." Margaret sighed. "She is still a bit unsettled."

Dixon stood up. "Yes, Miss Margaret, I will see to it."

"Thank you, Dixon. We have finished in her room and Sergeant Snipes is now in the attic. Next, we will visit Papa's room."

Margaret slowly left the kitchen and climbed the stairs again. She heard Snipes walking around above her, in her room. She decided to walk up the short flight of stairs and join him. As he had done in her mother's room, he was gently poking through her wardrobe when she joined him.

He looked up as she entered.

"There are several trunks behind the curtain, toward the back of the attic. I can light a lamp if you would like to search them?"

"You are being incredibly helpful, Miss Hale. I do appreciate that and how difficult this certainly is for you."

Margaret simply nodded and lit the lamp on her bedside table. "Have you finished on this side?"

He nodded. "You live a rather Spartan existence up here."

"I spend most of my time elsewhere."

Margaret carried the lamp toward the curtain which separated her sleeping area from the part of the attic used for storage. She slid the dark curtain aside and held it open for Snipes to pass through and she followed. Since she had unpacked the whole twenty-seven large trunks, she knew that all but two would be empty. The wooden crates had been broken down and hauled away, but of course, they retained the real luggage.

She patiently waited for Snipes to open each of the trunks. She shined her lamp inside each one. He got to one with baby and children's clothes which her mother had saved for sentimental reasons.

He looked at her and she smiled. "My mother hopes to have grandchildren one day and would like me to use these when the time comes."

He closed the rounded lid and moved on to the next empty trunk, then the next one, and then another one. He had to lift two off of each other, opened them both, and restacked. When he had seen everything, he stretched his back.

"You unpacked all these?" he asked.

"I did, yes."

"You are a remarkable woman, Miss Hale." The admiration glowing on her face made her blush.

"I just do what has to be done." She shrugged. "Perhaps once you find the culprit attacking our home, I will have a chance to relax a bit. Although our maid will be going to London with my mother, so I must find a replacement for her, at least on a part-time basis." She sighed and then smiled. "Forgive me, Sergeant Snipes. I should not burden you with my struggles."

"For what it is worth, I think for a lady of your young age you are doing quite well." He again smiled gently toward her, in a fatherly fashion.

She realized Snipes was the first one to really praise her efforts. Her mother had assumed someone would set up her space. Had Margaret not set up her father's study, he never would have. Dixon did mention that she thought Margaret was doing too much, but she did not thank Margaret for helping with the chores. Margaret was not doing it for thanks or praise. This was her family, and since she had the ability to help, she did.

"Thank you."

"I would like to look at the windows at the peaks of the roof. I want to make certain they are locked, or not damaged. I do not suspect anyone would climb this high, but since I am here, I just as well check."

Margaret followed him to the darkened back corner of the attic. The window on the right side was sealed and solid, however, the window on the left was cracked, not broken all the way through, but cracked just the same.

"I will alert Mr. Thornton of the need to repair this window. It is probably just due to the age of the building rather than anything nefarious." Snipes turned back to her. "Mr. Bell chose a good man to manage these properties."

Margaret smiled and nodded. "I agree. Are you ready to go to my father's room?"

Snipes nodded. She turned back to enter the part of the room she slept in, shoving back the curtain. She turned down the lamp and led Snipes out into the hallway.

They descended the attic steps and walked the few steps to enter her father's room. She stood just inside the doorway, watching Snipes go through the same routine he had done in the other rooms.

"I would not know your father's clothing from your brother's," Snipes said. "Nothing seems amiss in here." He took a look under the bed and knocked and pushed on the main wall as if looking for a hidden panel. He checked the window and then turned back toward her. "All clear."

She nodded, and leaving the room, they walked toward the stairs. Dixon was coming from her mother's room and met them at the top of the stairs.

"Is Mama, all right?" Margaret asked as she descended the stairs.

"She is taking a nap." Dixon gave Snipes a stern look. "She was exhausted by this search."

"Dixon, Sergeant Snipes was not rough with Mama," Margaret stated.

"Oh, good your father is home," Dixon said.

Margaret looked up as her father walked inside.

"Hello, Papa," she said quietly. "We've had another incident today." She helped him remove his coat. "It started with a rock being thrown the window." Margaret pointed to the gaping open hole of the window. "I will tell you the rest as we tour this floor with Sergeant Snipes."

John entered the mill house, giving Jane his hat and coat before climbing the stairs to the main floor of the house. Glancing around, he expected to see his mother and Margaret in the parlor stitching, but he heard not a single voice. Curious, he thought perhaps they had begun lunch without him. It was not yet noon, but perhaps his mother was hungrier than usual. He bit back a laugh. She would not start early. His mother kept as tight of a schedule as he did.

No one was in the dining room, either. He nearly collided with Mary, one of his mother's newer maids, as she was bringing in plates to set the table.

"Pardon me, Mr. Thornton."

"It was my fault, Mary," he said. He stepped aside, allowing her to pass into the room. "Do you know where my mother is?"

"Yes, sir." Mary bobbed her white-capped head. "She is in the kitchen. There was a problem with the order from the butcher this morning and she wanted to see it resolved."

"Has Miss Hale arrived yet?"

"I have not seen her, Mr. Thornton." She paused in her job to answer him. "Your mother asked for only two places to be set for lunch. One for you and one for her."

"I see. Thank you, Mary." Puzzled, he left before the maid was done with her job.

He casually scanned the mail sitting on the hallway table. One letter was open, which meant his mother had already read it, so he picked it up. It seemed his mother had sent Margaret an invitation to come early for lunch, writing that she did not remember if she had offered when they spoke the day before. Margaret politely declined. Her handwriting was quite flowery and beautiful as she politely explained she would be occupied assisting her mother to prepare for the trip to London, and she would not be at the sewing gathering that afternoon, either.

Disappointed, he put the letter down where it had been resting and went to relax in the parlor and read one of the newspapers, he had not taken time to look at the previous week. He heard the noon whistle minutes after sitting down. He finished one short, front-page article before his mother came to find him.

"Lunch is ready, John," she said. "Have you been home long?"

"No." He carefully folded the paper and placed it back on the table. He stood and walked toward her. He bent and kissed her cheek. "I was hoping Margaret would be here and I could spend a few extra moments with her."

His mother smiled softly. She knew he was developing feelings for the lass from the south. He never knew exactly how she would handle it if he found a woman to love. And, he did love Margaret. It had come on fast and furious and warmed and stretched over the time they were together. He longed to see Margaret, no matter the hour of the day, whether he was working or at home. Her presence had taken over his mind, and while it might interfere with work progress, he would not trade the feelings he had for her, to increase his productivity.

"Not today, I am afraid," his mother said. "She is getting her mother ready for London."

"I saw the letter on the table." He pointed to where it still sat.

"Well, let us get to eating before it turns cold," she said. "I had ordered a lovely lunch thinking Margaret would be joining us."

"Where is Fanny?" he asked as he followed her into the dining room.

"The young Mr. Slickson invited her to his parent's home for lunch today."

"I see."

"Do you not approve of the young man?" his mother asked.

He frowned as he pushed in her chair. "I find him likable enough. I am not certain what he plans for his future occupation. It seems the mill business does not hold much interest for him, and I have yet to see him engaged in other businesses."

He watched his mother sip on her drink, wondering how she would answer. He sat in his normal position to his mother's left. As matriarch, he gave her the privilege of sitting at the head of the table.

"Fanny seems taken with him. I would hope you would not permit anything other than this courtship unless he provides you with his plans to support a family. Fanny would not appreciate living with Mrs. Slickson, nor do I think Mrs. Slickson cares for Fanny's exuberance."

"Can you blame her?" John chuckled.

Months ago, when the Hale's first arrived in Milton, looking so out of place and feckless, his mother had been blunt in her admonition that he avoid becoming attached to Margaret. He and his mother had always been close. They relied upon one another to get through the worst of times, the scandal of his father's suicide, and then the lean financial years. But now in the stable financial position he found himself, his mother somehow worried he would lose his judgment.

He remembered the conversation as if it was yesterday instead of nearly three months earlier. It had been a rather stern conversation, as his dear mother was always as blunt as a dull knife.

His mother had said, "Take care you don't get caught by a penniless girl, John."

He had barely seen Margaret by then. She appeared only for the short tea time her father offered him after their lessons. Yet, from the very beginning, her beauty and intelligence were obvious to him. Over time, he had simply grown even more enamored with her.

He had answered his mother's command by saying, "I am not easily caught, mother as

I think you know. I never was aware of any young lady trying to catch me yet. Nor do I believe that anyone has ever given themselves that useless trouble."

Of course, he now knew Miss Latimer had plans to snare him. She had pursued him, with the assistance of Fanny. He frowned. He would have to discuss that with Fanny when she was home. Why would she have encouraged the arrangement? Did Fanny believe he and Ann would be a good match? Had Ann suggested her interest in him, and Fanny was manipulated into doing all she could to get them together, in hopes he would see Ann and fall madly in love?

The rest of his mother's comment from their long-ago conversation came with a warning to him, but now he saw the irony. She had told him, "Well! I only say, take care. Perhaps our Milton girls have too much spirit and good feeling to go angling after husbands; but this Miss Hale comes out of the aristocratic counties, where, if all tales be true, rich husbands are reckoned prizes."

It was Ann, the so-called proper Milton Miss, who had been angling for a husband, not his Margaret. He longed to tell his mother of Margaret's inheritance from Mr. Bell. He understood his mother's early reservations about his development of a personal relationship with Margaret were solely related to the financial status of the Hales. If she knew what Margaret would bring to them with marriage, he was certain his mother would have no furtherconcerns about Margaret becoming his wife.

His wife! He held back the smile which could overtake his face. He did not wish to explain to his mother why he was suddenly so happy.

"You left without breakfast this morning."

"I did." He agreed. Placing a linen napkin on his lap, he said, "Since I left the office early yesterday afternoon to escort Margaret to the constable, and then back to her home, I had to catch up on some paperwork. I also had to get Williams the supplies to board up the window. He gave me the measurements so I will see to a replacement window today. Sergeant Snipes went to search their home, making certain they were not harboring fugitives or some evidence from the rock, that had been left behind."

"And? Did he find anything?"

"I have not heard. I expect an update today, perhaps."

"I am a bit surprised you did not remain with Margaret as Snipes tore through her house."

"I would have," he said, "but there was important business I had to discuss with the fellow mill masters last night. After visiting with Williams this morning, it seems the rumors I had been hearing for the past fortnight are actually true. The union men are calling for a strike."

His mother gasped. "It has been so long that even a whisper of such a thing has been heard. Do you suspect it will be at every mill? You already pay the best wage and offer the best conditions, what more can the hands want from you?"

"A raise in their pay," he said, pausing his fork halfway to his mouth.

"You gave them one just this time last year. Could you do with a small pay increase, to avoid shutting down the mill entirely?"

"I can, yes, but that money has been set aside for expansion into a new weaving shed, which would allow me to purchase more machines and hire more workers."

"And, I suppose, the workers would not understand that if you explained it to them?"

He shrugged. "I could try, I suppose. One of Hamper's men is the leader of the group. His name is Nicholas Higgins."

She furrowed her brows. "I recognize that name."

"Perhaps Margaret mentioned it to you? It seems one of the baskets she delivers weekly is to the Higgins' home."

"He's able to raise enough men to strike, but he accepts a basket for his family?" She grumbled.

"So, it seems. His daughter, Bessie, was once employed at Marlborough in the carding room. She had started at Hamper's but the fluff was too much for her lungs to handle. When Higgins learned I had installed the wheel technology, she moved over to work with us. I know this only because after Margaret mentioned her name, and that she had worked for me, I was curious and pulled her work records. She was a very good worker. In several instances, you had written how efficient she was and how well she accepted your guidance. In fact, in her last review, you wrote that she was capable of moving up to the looms." He smiled. "I always enjoy looking at the notes you make. You are always quite thorough."

"Thank you," she replied. "I try to help you as I can."

"And you have always been my greatest support, Mother." He nodded toward her. "Anyway, before we could advance her, she decreased her work schedule to only three days a week and then down to one day, and then none. Williams wrote in her final notes that she was too ill to work but had been a high-quality employee who kept to her time and if she were not quite ill, he definitely would have advanced her position."

"What a shame. I suppose I would recognize her if I saw her. You know I am far better with faces than with names, John."

"I still cannot understand why they need a charity basket," he said. "Higgins is one of Hamper's top employees. He answers only to Matlock, Hamper's overseer. Surely his wage is consistent with his position?"

"Perhaps Margaret knows more about the Higgins. Do you think she knows about the strike?"

He shook his head. "I believe she would have said something to me about it. She would not keep that a secret." He grinned. "I am rather hopeful I am more important to her than Bessie Higgins."

She cleared her throat. "I am rather hesitant to share this with you, but you should know about a rumor Jane shared with me yesterday. I do not wish to believe it, but as we are talking about Margaret and secrets, I think it prudent that I tell you.

"Yes, Mother? What sort of rumor?"

"It seems people have been commenting on Margaret's frequent trips to Mr. Lewis' Threads shop. Of course, I would not think much about it, as much as Fanny shops, but it's been said she does not leave with any purchases."

He tried to keep his features blank. He trusted his mother to keep Margaret's secret but would Margaret be angry if he told his mother?

"Well?" she pressed. "Are you not concerned that the woman you are in love with is spending her days with another man?"

He did finally chuckle. "Yes, Mother, I certainly would be worried, however, Margaret and I have already discussed the matter."

"And?" she demanded.

He grinned. "Do you not think this is a private matter between Margaret and myself?"

She snorted. "You never keep secrets from me."

"Well, surely in the future, there will be private moments I share with Margaret that wouldn't be sensible to share with you. Can you accept that?"

"Yes, of course. God Lord, Son, I do not anticipate asking you how often you kiss her or hold her hand, but this particular rumor could be harmful to her reputation as well as yours. Especially as he is escorting her to the Harvest Ball."

"You need not worry about that. As to her time at Mr. Lewis's shop..." He swallowed a big gulp of coffee. "This must not go further than this room. Agreed?"

She nodded.

"Margaret did not want to burden her father with money to pay for a new dress for the ball. She was uncertain if her aunt would be able to ship her dresses from London in time. So, being a brilliant young woman," he grinned, "she agreed to trade her labor for materials to make a dress. As you have seen with her stitching, she is quite accomplished with a needle, and I expect her dress will be quite exceptional."

"You are saying she worked for Lewis to pay off her dress?" Her eyes were large enough to pop from their sockets.

He chuckled. "Aye. It seems I have found myself a thrifty London lass, eh? Could you imagine Fanny or Miss Latimer undertaking such a scheme? She did it with the best of intentions as well. She did not wish to put her father in a financial bind, and as she has the necessary skills, she simply bargained with Lewis."

She chuckled. "That is exceptional, John. I question if Fanny has any inkling of how much of her shopping bills take up our family's budget."

"Hopefully she and Slickson will come to an understanding quickly and I can transfer her bills to him." He chuckled. "In all honesty, I do hope young Slickson makes a decision quickly. If my workers do strike, her dowry will have to be adjusted accordingly."

"John, you said you would not allow Fanny to marry him unless he showed you the ability to support her in the fashion we have."

He nodded. "And I will abide by that."

"Will he fit into our family?" she asked. "I hardly know the boy. I have always liked Mrs. Slickson, although Fanny will need to mature a bit before she will be accepted by them."

"Will Margaret fit into our family?" he asked. He raised his brows and waited for her answer.

"She will be welcomed," she answered. "I imagine there will be an adjustment period. Perhaps you would even prefer if I lived elsewhere?"

He shook his head. "This is your home as long as you want it to be, Mother. Margaret has never managed a household as large as this, thus I am certain she will appreciate your support. If her mother remains in London, she will need a mother figure whom she trusts. Is that too much of a burden for you?"

She shook her head. "She and I may have very different personalities and come from much different backgrounds, however, for your sake, I imagine any differences we have, we shall turn into compromises or be solved in such a way that neither of us nor you, will suffer."

He grinned. "That makes me happy, mother."

"I am glad," she said. "Do give me some warning before you announce your engagement."

He thoughts turned serious. "Truth be told, Mother, I have no idea when it will be the proper time to ask for her hand. I do not know how to determine if she is ready to move closer to marriage."

"Are you in a position to offer for her hand? Have you decided she is to be the one?"

"I am mother, and yes, Margaret has caught my heart. She has accepted that I am not the gentleman her mother had wished she would marry, and she has said she wants to make Milton her home."

"Do you think she cares for you?"

He smiled. "Yes, I do." He reclined against the back of his chair. "I suppose I could be wrong. I do not know how women think or feel."

"The best thing you can do is patiently wait," she said. "I believe you will just know when it is time."

He shook his head. "I certainly hope so. Is there any specific rule for the length of courtship?"

Fanny walked in, just as he was finishing his question.

"Are you speaking for yourself or my prospects?" she asked.

A maid followed behind her with a full plate of food. Once Fanny was seated, the maid left and he decided to answer her.

"We were speaking of you, Fanny," he lied. "Do you anticipate a proposal from Walter soon? And, if he does offer for your hand, will you accept him?"

"I cannot say," she answered with a shrug. "He is pleasant enough, but I do not think I could live with Mrs. Slickson. She is very… dull. Mother, you are quite strict but, Mrs. Slickson does not even laugh at my jokes."

John glanced from Fanny to catch their mother rolling her eyes. Fanny's jokes weren't funny. It was probably not the best thing to have encouraged her silliness for so many years.

"Do you think Walter will continue to live with his parents?"

"Where else would he go?" She took a sip of water to swallow the mouthful of food. "He will work at the mill, eventually take his father's position, I suppose." She shrugged.

"Would you be content with that sort of life, Fanny?" their mother asked.

"I cannot say. One day, I think Walter is a fine man, the next day his mood is completely different." She turned her gaze to him. "I think he may drink to excess as well, John. You might know better than me."

Walter did drink. John did not know how much or how often, but in social settings, he was often quite inebriated.

"There is no hurry to settle upon anyone. I suppose that is the purpose of courting," John said.

He stood, placed his folded napkin next to his plate, and pushed in his chair. He passed Fanny and kissed her head, and then his mother's cheek.

"Have a good afternoon, John," his mother said.

"I'll be going to the Hale's for lessons after dinner this evening," he told her.

"Oh yes, where is Margaret?" Fanny asked, suddenly noticing she was not there.

"She is helping her mother get ready for her trip to London," John answered.

"See, that is precisely why I do not know if Walter is the man for me," Fanny said. "I would like to see the world and I do not know if he has any wish to do so. And, what about you, John? If Margaret should wish to move to London, will you take her? Will you move with her there?"

He shook his head. "No, I will never leave Milton until it is time for me to retire from the mill. Perhaps one day I will have a son to leave the works to," he winked at his mother, "but until then it is upon my shoulders to see to the solvency of our business."

"But, John what about London?" Fanny pressed. "Will you go with Margaret if she wants to?"

"We have no understanding yet, Fanny. Please do not insinuate we do. Mother, would you speak with Fanny about what we discussed regarding Miss Latimer?"

She nodded. He truly wanted to know if Fanny encouraged Ann's interest in him or if Ann had manipulated his sister.

"I will return to work then." He smiled at both of them. "Have a fine afternoon, ladies."

He heard Fanny ask, "Is he whistling?"

His mother chuckled. "He is finally feeling content, Fanny, and I am happy for it."