Twenty-Four
Tuesday evening, John joined his mother at the dining table before going to the Hale's for his regular studies. Fanny was visiting the Slickson's, so, it was just him and his mother at the table. He kissed her cheek as he did each evening when arriving home from the mill and took his seat next to her at the head of the table and waited for the servants to bring him his dinner.
"I have asked before," he started, "and I will ask Fanny to be certain, but if young Slickson should apply for her hand, I should consent, correct?"
His mother nodded. "If you feel he can support her adequately."
He shifted in his chair. "I'm not entirely certain how their financial accounts are set up. If he owns the mill he runs, then yes, I believe he is quite well situated, especially since his workers remained on the job yesterday. If his father is financing it, as well as his own mill, it's difficult to say. In that case he would simply be his father's employee, and in time might replace him at head of the mills."
"I suppose when he comes calling you could clarify those points," she suggested. "Fanny is quite taken with him. We have known the family for many years. You consider the senior Slickson a friend, do you not?"
He pondered how to answer that question. "Friend is perhaps a bit too personal. He is more of a colleague or acquaintance, but yes, we have known him a sufficient length of time. She has been involved with your sewing group since the start. Has he treated Margaret well?"
She chuckled. "That is important, is it, that everyone treat Miss Hale well?"
He shrugged.
"She does like Margaret. When Mrs. Hale joined us, Mrs. Slickson invited their family to dine with them. I wondered if she wanted her son to meet Margaret."
"They didn't," he said, firmly.
"No, I think that was when Mrs. Hale began to refuse to leave the house."
Several minutes went by without either of them speaking, something that was quite usual when just the two of them were at the table. Unlike many nights, months ago, when his thoughts would be on mill business, tonight his thoughts were set squarely on Margaret. He had written a note to her, but he doubted she could reply with anything personal, as she would be dictating it to her father, or Mrs. Penrod, if the woman could read and write.
"Speaking of the stitching group, it was at the Latimer's today," his mother said. He looked up at her. "The ladies asked about Margaret. I considered calling on her afterwards, but I imagine she is spending most of her day resting."
"I hope she did rest today. Mr. Hale would not allow me to see her last night." He dug into his mashed potatoes. After a sip of wine, he continued, "She was in a great amount of pain yesterday. Dr. Donaldson is happy with her progress."
"Yes, Mrs. Donaldson was there today. She did not fully describe Margaret's wound, which I appreciated. It's not the business of the other woman there how she's healing. I am glad she has taken Margaret under her wing."
He smiled inside. She inadvertently made it known that she considered Margaret to be part of her business but was protective of Margaret's privacy with others. She had been very dedicated to seeing to Margaret's care while she was at the mill house, recovering. He hoped Margaret was coming to understand how his mother treated her was much different from how she treated the most of the rest of the world
"You have as well," John said. "Between the two of you, I expect Margaret is in good hands making her way in Milton society, perhaps better than if her mother was here in Milton."
"How will you fare with such a mother-in-law?"
He shrugged, a slight grin forming on his lips. "I suppose as well as with any other mother-in-law." He turned serious. "I do not know what the future will bring for Mrs. Hale. They have not received word from her yet. I would not be surprised if Mrs. Hale chooses to stay in London with her sister."
"And Mr. Hale?"
He shrugged again, chewing. He wiped his mouth before answering. "I have no idea what he will do. I am hopeful he will stay here if Margaret and I wed. I enjoy his company, and I know she loves him very much. She is closer to him than her mother, I believe."
"When you and Margaret wed," she insisted smiling.
He glanced up. "When?" He chuckled. "I never expected you to be so accepting of the woman I chose to wed. Do you suppose the two of you can live happily together here?"
She nodded curtly. "I have already considered how to remodel the home so we can build a suite for you, with a sitting room. You both will appreciate your privacy from the rest of the household." Her eyes narrowed. "Well, I suppose I am under the assumption I will be living here, and not shipped off somewhere or forced to live with Fanny."
He laughed. As if he would ever kick his mother from his home. "Mother, this is your home and always will be. If we should move in time, I expect you will join us."
"Move?" she asked. Her eyes widened. "Not to London!"
"No." He shook his head and sat back in his chair. "Margaret loves plants and parks and gardens. There is no room for such an area here, but perhaps, in time, if the rail extends a bit farther into the country, I might consider a relocation. It would have to be convenient to the mill of course."
His mother nodded, considering his words. "I suppose you must visit London, to visit her family. She is quite close to her aunt and cousin, or so it seems. Tell me, do you think she would walk around Milton as much as she does if she had use of our carriage?"
"I do," he said, nodding. "She likes to be active. She was very regulated in London by her aunt. I am certain she sees her ability to walk, at will, through town as liberating."
"The sooner you secure her hand, the better."
"You seem more assured of her acceptance of me than I am at this point."
"Why?" she asked. "I thought all was well."
He shook his head and frowned. "Things did not go well at the jail. I demanded too much of her. I expect that is why she returned to Crampton, instead of coming back here." His lips twitched. "She did look lovely with the veil covering her face and with her hair styled as it was, and with her arm in the sling under the coat, it was not obvious she was so severely injured."
"She is a beautiful young woman, John. I am glad she captured your eye. She is also very kind and willing to put in effort when it is needed. In fact," she sighed, "I believe her aunt raised her better than I raised Fanny. I expected Margaret to be a spoiled London girl. She definitely has the manners and behaviors of a fine London girl, but she has already been an asset to Milton." She smiled. "And to you."
He smiled and then finished his glass of wine. She was correct. Margaret had added a great deal of happiness to his life already. If only her brother were not such a troublesome dilemma.
"I must tell you, John. It has been brought to my attention that Mrs. Latimer and her daughter have been spreading the information that Margaret was staying here recovering… with you."
He shrugged. "She was."
She rolled her eyes at him. "With you, John. They are twisting the information to make it appear Margaret was not only here, but under your very close and personal care."
"Mother speak plainly," he demanded.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, son! Margaret's reputation is being questioned and compromised courtesy of the Latimer women. Ann saw you lift Margaret bodily into our coach and was quick to tell all of her friends."
"How does that compromise Margaret? She was injured and we brought her here to the mill house to recover. She and I were never alone. The Latimer's know she arrived at the dinner with us. It is only logical she would leave with us, despite being injured."
"The women in the sewing circle have taken a fancy to Margaret, and would never wish her ill. Except for Mrs. Latimer. She holds a grudge because you prefer Margaret to Ann."
"It is more than a preference, Mother." He cleared his throat. "I love Margaret. I have never felt so much happiness as I have with her, even the short time I have known her."
His mother nodded a grin curving up the left side of her mouth. "It is rather obvious how you feel. As I said, I did not think she would do so well here. I expected her to be all airs, but she is not. I expect, in quick time, the two of you, as a couple, will be a strong force in Milton, making a difference in the lives of the people of Milton, both the rich and poor."
He nodded, pleased she saw Margaret as he did. "I hope you and Mrs. Donaldson set the other woman straight about Margaret's presence here?"
"We did. I do not think any of the women of our circle will perpetuate any rumors. I cannot say if Mrs. Latimer will." She took a sip of wine and set it down on the table before continuing. "If he should find out, Mr. Latimer, being your banker, will likely tell her to keep her thoughts to herself. It would not benefit him to have your name and mill drug through the mud."
"Loving Margaret would drag my name through the mud?" He did not understand all the social expectations, which was why he relied so much on his mother in that area.
She sighed over his ignorance. "If there is any reason to suspect you have… anticipated… your vows, then yes, they will drag you both through the mud."
"Bloody hell, mother," he stormed. "Margaret was significantly injured. I could not even kiss her without causing her pain." It did not stop him from want to, but still…
"John, I am well aware nothing untoward has occurred between you. I have reminded Fanny that you were never alone with Margaret while here. Fanny has been warned not to disparage Margaret and instead argue against any besmirchments of her character."
Frustrated, he shook his head. "I have dodged a strike of my workers at the mill, and now I must somehow dodge rumors of my impropriety in my personal life?"
"If you were not such a prominent person here, it would not be an issue. No one cares what people do in Princeton and the poorer districts. You, however, are a leader of Milton and every move you make is scrutinized. It is not the first time we have had this discussion. Many women want their daughters to marry you. You are perhaps the most eligible bachelor in Milton. The fact you chose an outsider to court is not sitting well with many of them."
"I'm just a man, but Margaret is exceptional. As you said, it is my hope she and I will do good things for the Milton community. Together. If her mother is settled in London, she will have less to be concerned with here. Her father has required her to make so many crucial decisions for the family. That is quite a bit to put on her shoulders. She has never complained to me, but can you imagine Fanny be tasked with making any decisions for this household?"
"Margaret and Fanny are worlds apart." She pushed her plate forward and fixed him with a firm stare. "You may do well to have Banns read at church starting this Sunday. You could marry the week before Christmas. You would attend the Mill Master's Dinner as an engaged couple and then by the Milton Christmas dinner, if we have the dinner, you would be married."
He sighed. She was planning his life again. "Tell me, mother, what woman would want to marry with their arm in a sling and stitches in her temple?"
She did not answer immediately. Staring at him, she nodded. "I suppose you are correct. A formal engagement, properly announced may be sufficient to stop the gossip."
"I refuse to rush her, Mother."
He had not told his mother about Frederick being arrested and found here in Milton. He would not tell her, unless it was absolutely necessary because that would fuel the gossip in Milton far more than Margaret healing in the mill house. He trusted Snipes, and of course he trusted his mother, but he was not naïve enough to think there were not ears perked up for any hint of gossip here at the house and if any mentioning at the mill.
"I appreciate that, John. I expect she will appreciate that as well. I am suggesting you do not wait too long, or the fire will be fueled."
"If we become engaged now, will it not look as if we were forced to do so?"
She sighed. "Perhaps."
"Is there not an engagement party soon after or perhaps when the announcement is made? With her health, Margaret could not withstand that attention just now."
"Perhaps at the Mill Master Dinner? That is nearly three weeks away. Surely the stitches will be removed by then and Jane or one of our other girls, could style Margaret's hair in such a way to cover any lasting scars."
He nodded. "The next time I am able to see her, I will ask. Mr. Hale gave me permission quite some time ago, but I have bided my time, been patient, not wanting to rush her. I considered asking her after the dinner on Friday, and had the night not ended as horrible as it did, I believe I would have."
"She was beautiful," his mother agreed. "I suppose we could have Fanny's and your engagements announced at the Mill Master Dinner. It would save time and money."
He chuckled. "Do you think Fanny would be willing to share the spotlight with Margaret, do you?"
She shook her head. "No, you're right. She will probably expect a dance, too." She rolled her eyes. "However, will you announce your engagement? I would think most of the people Margaret has become acquainted with will be there. Perhaps she could encourage her mother, her aunt and whatever other family she would like, to come north for the dinner. They could celebrate Christmas here instead of London.
"We will see what happens. When the time feels right, I will propose."
Margaret had finally stirred from her room and was sitting in the study reading, when a young boy she recognized from Princeton came to call. Mrs. Penrod allowed the boy to deliver Margaret his message, despite Margaret's condition.
"Miss Margaret, Mary Higgins has sent me," the boy said. "Bessie is very close to the end, Miss. She asks that you please come. Bessie has asked to see you."
"Oh, dear."
"Miss Margaret," he prodded. "Will you come?"
"I will come," she answered with a nod.
When the boy left her father's study, she appealed to Mrs. Penrod to help her get dressed for the weather. As they tried to wrestle clothing on her body, Margaret's head was already planning how she could get to Princeton. She would have to hire a coach, there was no way for her to walk that far.
She asked Steven to go find her a hired coach, and when it pulled up, the driver helped Margaret climb inside. She felt every bounce and every bump as the carriage rumbled to the bad section of Milton. She prayed the whole way she would have the right words to give the Higgins family and Bessie especially, at this horrible, painful time.
The coach did not go the whole way into Princeton instead it stopped on a corner. The driver again helped her, and when she stepped down, her head was swimming.
"Pardon, Ma'am you don't look too good."
"I'm not well, sir. I fear I must persevere. My friend has a limited time left."
"May I escort you?"
"Would you?" she asked, wide-eyed. What a kind gesture.
"Aye. Mr. Thornton got me this here carriage. I owe him, and if I can help his lady with this small of a thing…" He shrugged.
Her heart swelled by the kindness of John, and she smiled. "Thank you. Mr. Thornton is a very good man."
How many people in Milton knew they were courting? Goodness, was there no privacy in this town. In London, she could hide sometimes, without anyone knowing her or knowing about her. It seemed here, was not the same.
The driver gave her his arm to hang on, and they slowly made it to the Higgins home. She reached into her bag to pay him, but he held his hand up.
"Just tell Mr. Thornton that Mick says hello."
Margaret smiled at the driver. He waited with her until the Higgins' door was opened a crack by Bessie's little sister. She turned to thank him again. He tipped his hat and retreated, likely back to his coach.
Margaret sighed before entering the small home. Bessie was on the bed. She looked to be sleeping. Margaret removed her cloak and glove, setting it over the back of a chair. She glanced at Mary who was rocking and crying softly.
"Where is your Papa?" she asked Mary.
Mary just shrugged.
"Is he working today?"
Mary shook her head. It dawned on Margaret then that Hamper's mills were on strike. Her father said they were the only mill workers who still decided to strike after the burning of the building on New Street. Her father said it had to be horrible at Hampers for them to strike. No other mills were sitting idle.
Margaret smiled, hoping to ease Mary's concern. How could she, though? Bessie was going to die, and there was nothing anyone could do to change that. Margaret brought a chair next to Bessie's bed and sat, hoping her friend would wake up so Margaret could tell her goodbye, to tell her how much her friendship had meant to Margaret.
Bessie had the family bible resting next to her on the bed. Margaret opened it, and began reading the Psalms. Bessie loved the Psalms, thought they were all so poetic. Margaret knew from listening to so many of her father's sermons that the writings were created to be sung, but Margaret believed even reading the words was lyrical and calming. Her singing voice sounded like she was a howling dog, so reading was the best choice for Margaret. Either way, the writings provided ideas how best to praise God and helped people understand the beauty of God's love.
As she started reading, Bessie's head moved toward her as if she could hear Margaret's voice. Margaret continued reading until she finished her favorite Psalm. Then she began talking to Bessie, telling her what she thought Heaven looked like, how she believed Jesus would be waiting for her and once holding her in his arms, all her pain and struggles would be gone.
She waited several minutes praying silently that Bessie might say or do something, anything, but she remained silent. This was so incredibly difficult for Margaret. She could do nothing but keep Mary company as Bessie slowly faded away. Moving her chair closer, she took hold of Bessie's hand, shocked at its limpness. Her skin was cold and dry and her face, while peaceful, was an unhealthy shade of color, with none of the healthy pink flush usual of a woman her young age.
Our age. She and Margaret were only a short year apart. Bessie was the younger one. Had Margaret been born here instead of Helstone, to the Higgins family, instead of the granddaughter of a knighted Baronet, she could have ended up in the same position. She likely would have ended up in the same condition. She certainly would have been forced into labor of some sort.
Bessie's breathing was becoming shallow and short. Were her lungs filling up with fluid? Mrs. Donaldson had confided to Margaret she believed that was the likely way Bessie would pass away. Margaret didn't know much about health. In fact, she had never heard of the fluff in the lungs until she moved here.
"Mary," Margaret choked out to the girl sitting at the table near the stove. "Send someone to fetch your papa."
The girl stood and ambled out the door.
Once Margaret was alone with Bessie, she gave into her tears. She began to pray the twenty-third Psalm from memory. She had not wanted to read it until it was truly near the end. It was a prayer said over dead bodies to request that God accept newly deceased into His paradise. Her tears were so heavy, she felt them dripping on her hand as she bent over, praying. If she could kneel, she would, but Margaret feared she could not get herself standing up again.
Margaret sensed the exact moment Bessie died. The girl took one final breath and then her pale body simply wilted, like a flower without water resting in the sun. Higgins burst into the room minutes later, a combination of despair and understanding plain on his expressive face. He took off his cap and plodded closer to the bed. Margaret stood, giving him the chair so he could sit beside his daughter's body. Margaret briefly rested her hand on his shoulder before she moved away, toward the door, allowing Mary space to stand beside her grieving father.
The family needed privacy to grieve. Margaret had only known the Higgins' family for a short time, but she cared greatly for all of the members. Nicholas was gruff, but she knew he loved his daughters and put their needs ahead of his own. Life was so hard for them in Milton, but Margaret knew he was doing his best.
After struggling, with only one arm, to put on her cloak, and single glove, she walked outside, surprised by the number of people milling outside the door. It was not her place to tell Higgins' neighbors about Bessie. If they acted here, as they did in London, black fabric would soon be draped over the door as a sign of a death in the house. It would signal the people of Princeton that Nicholas needed extra support.
She had no idea what time it was. It had turned dark while she held vigil with Bessie, in her final hours. Smiling sadly, she made her way through the group of neighbors and slowly walked to the end of the street, back to the corner, where the hired carriage had parked. She was not surprised or angry the man called Mick had not waited for her, but she knew she needed a ride home. She still was too weak to walk all the way to Crampton.
She looked around the area, hoping to find another driver for hire, and when it was clear there wasn't one, she sighed, drew her cloak closer to her body and began walking toward Crampton. If she was lucky, the closer she came to the heart of Milton, she would find a carriage to take her home.
She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. She ignored the noises of Princeton, it was definitely not as quiet as Crampton, and focused on walking as fast as she could without becoming winded and light headed. She had made it only a few blocks when she needed to rest. She leaned against a brick building, and coughed after taking some deep breaths of the cold night air. With her head already foggy and hurting, a cold was the last thing she needed.
With a sigh, she started walking again. She glanced at a coach that stopped on the other side of the street. She squinted in the minimum gas lamp light, and stopped walking. A man, tall and lean got out of the carriage and rushed toward her. It was John, coming to her rescue again.
"Margaret!" he called.
She waited for him to join her on the sidewalk. He jogged the last few yards.
"Are you alright?"
She nodded, but the dam of tears broke again. "Bessie died," she choked out.
"Come, lets get you home and warm." He placed his arm on her back and slowly helped her across the street. "Shall I carry you?"
She shook her head no and continued to cry, big hulking sobs that racked her body. He helped her inside the coach and pulled her against his side. She rested her head against his shoulder, relieved he was there, comforted that he was holding her.
He did not say a word, simply pulled her close, rubbing the back of her neck. His cheek rested against the top of her head and his hand wound itself around her waist and brought her close to his side. She felt cherished and safe. With his body supporting her, she barely felt the bumps in the awful roads of the Princeton area.
Again, John found himself carrying Margaret out of the carriage and into a house. This time he was not as worried. She had simply cried herself to sleep, likely exhausted by her travel into Princeton and by the loss of her friend. Oh, how he loved her, wish he knew how to comfort her. He kicked Hale's door and Mr. Hale quickly opened it.
"Where can I lay her down?" He asked immediately, as he rushed into the house, out of the cold.
Mr. Hale's eyes were huge. "Is she hurt again? Shall I call for the doctor?"
"No. She is just exhausted," John told him.
"Oh my." Mr. Hale closed the door. "Can you carry her upstairs or may I help?"
"Yes, I can carry her, she weighs nothing. Just direct me where to safely set her."
Mr. Hale started leading him up the stairs. "She has been staying in Maria's room. Come, follow me this way."
John followed Mr. Hale, and was led into a room on the second floor. As the overseer of Mr. Bell's properties, John had been in this room when the home was empty. With the furniture and decorations, the room looked so much cozier and warm.
John set her gently on the bed, careful to avoid jostling her right side. He stepped back and sighed. Looking at Mr. Hale, he said, "Bessie died."
"Oh, my," Mr. Hale whispered. "She was very fond of Miss Higgins."
Mrs. Penrod suddenly rushed in. "Oh dear, I am so happy she is home safe!" She hands flew to her face. "What can I do to help? Is she injured?"
John shook his head and looked at Mr. Hale to answer.
"Exhausted, Mrs. Penrod, just very worn out. I think we must get her undressed and properly tucked in."
John nodded. "I will excuse myself and wait downstairs if you need any help."
"Thank you, John." Mr. Hale rested a hand on John's shoulder. "Once again you have assisted my darling girl."
"You must know I always will, as long as she allows it," John answered.
"You are a fine man, John Thornton."
He nodded and left the room, quietly closing it behind him. He hated be separated from her, but he obviously could not be in the room as she was being undressed. He sighed, wishing the rules of society were different and he could help them settle her. He loved her so much, he had actually felt pain as she cried over the loss of her friend.
He ran a shaky hand through his hair and with a final glance at the bedroom door, retreated down the stairs. He took off his coat and hung it next to the door before going into the study. He walked to where Steven was sitting at Mr. Hale's desk. The older man had written out letters of the alphabet for the boy to copy.
"Are you learning your letters?" John asked softy.
Steven nodded, but did not look up. "I want to get smart. Mr. Hale says I can do anything if can read."
"He is right." John sat in the chair next to the fireplace, watching him. "Reading will help you learn about anything you become interested in."
"Is Miss Margaret alright?" Steven asked.
"Yes, she is just tired. I found her as she was walking home and we picked her up."
"I love Miss Margaret, Mr. Thornton. She has been so kind to me."
John was about to laugh, the boy had only known her for a few days. He caught himself when he realized the boy sounded like he might be crying. Margaret may have given Steven the only love and care the boy had ever known.
"I'm glad. I am certain she appreciates you here, Steven. Make certain you are as helpful as you can be for the family."
"Yes, sir."
John grinned then. Mr. Hale had already begun to teach the boy manners.
"Can I stay with Miss Margaret and Mr. Hale forever?" he asked, sniffing back the tears.
John paused to consider how to answer that. "Well, Miss Margaret will move from here if she marries. I am quite certain Mr. Hale will be pleased to have you for company into the future."
Steven stared at him. "And I may work for you?"
John nodded. "Once Mr. Lewis delivers your new clothing, you can begin coming to the mill regularly. Mr. Hale and I have big plans for you, young man."
He nodded and then looked at John in the eye. "Promise to take good care of Miss Margaret, Mr. Thornton, she is an angel."
John could not agree more.