~Chapter 16~
So relieved was she at her husband's recovery, that Margaret quite forgot having sent a fearful note to her mother-in-law about John's condition. Thus, two days after John's fever broke, Mrs. Hannah Thornton arrived.
Hannah burst forth from the carriage without waiting for the coach to even still its wheels. She arrived absent Agnes, whom Fanny claimed she simply could not do without since her own lady's maid had fallen ill. Hannah seized her swinging skirts with a hand and raced up the stairs into the house, her mind consumed, as it had been since she received Margaret's missive three days before, with images of her son from infancy to the current day. Such a short life it had been. Hannah only prayed she had not missed its last moments. Oh, that she had never gone from Milton! She made the top of the stairs to the first floor and flung open the master bedroom door.
Margaret sat with her husband at every possible moment. She could scarcely believe the joy that filled her heart and oft spilled in tears from her eyes at the sight of his health improving. Just now, she watched him pour his tea with much steadier hands than the day before. "Is it hot enough?" Margaret asked, eager to please.
"Much better than that fever potion you forced upon me," John joked, confidently bringing the full cup to his lips.
"Aye," Margaret agreed, her memory of that moment so vivid that she could taste the acid in her mouth.
John, too, recalled his wife's reaction and took a moment to study her appearance. He was relieved that although she did appear thin – perhaps a side effect of her worry – his wife remained healthy. His heart swelled with gratitude. "Come, Margaret," he commanded, setting down his teacup and holding out a hand to her. "Kiss your husband."
Margaret gladly did as John bade. As their lips met, the bedroom door swung violently open.
"John!" Hannah cried, shocked at the sight of her apparently healthy son after all her preparations to enter the scene of his deathbed.
"Mother!" John replied, equally surprised by her sudden appearance when he had thought her in the country indefinitely. "What brings you hence?"
"Your failing health," said she.
"I wrote –" Margaret explained at the same time.
John smiled. "I am well, Mother," he explained unnecessarily.
Freed from the burdens of fear and grief, Hannah recovered her composure. She walked across the space, usurping Margaret's place beside John, pressed her lips to his forehead and brushed back an errant curl of his charcoal hair before serenely quitting the room.
John and Margaret met one another's eye and dissolved into silent laughter. "My mother is certainly come home," John finally managed. He sobered, remembering Margaret and his mother's disagreements and spats in the past. "You will tell me if she becomes too much?" John asked, taking Margaret's hand in his own.
"Aye," Margaret replied, thinking that she would not disturb his recovery for the world.
Hannah Thornton headed immediately to the front room, informing Edward along the way that she would meet with Molly and him at once.
Edward nodded, wishing that the new mistress would be privy to this meeting, as well; however, he knew his place and fetched Molly as he was bid.
Once the remaining servants gathered before her, Hannah nodded firmly in greeting and began. "I would have an account of the household's running in my absence," Hannah stated. She remained silent for most of the exchange, prodding Edward or Molly only when they did not present her with enough detail to determine what exactly her new daughter-in-law had been up to since Hannah's absence in the home. "Thank you," she declared at the end, "You may go now." She sat, surprisingly idle, as she considered the good, but in her opinion somewhat flawed, schedule that Margaret had put into place. Now that Hannah had returned, all would be made right. She had only to inform Margaret of the necessary changes.
Margaret longed to take dinner with her husband, but knew she would be expected to dine with Mrs. Thornton. She dressed carefully, as she had noticed Mrs. Thornton's eye upon her somewhat disheveled appearance. Of course, she never could quite coax her hair into the same pretty curls that Julia and Samantha made look so simple. At the thought of the two maids, Margaret recited a little prayer for the health of their families. Then, nodded confidently at her reflection, Margaret rose.
"You look lovely, as always, dear one," John assured her. He kissed her when she came near. "Now go, enjoy your meal."
"I do so hate to leave you," Margaret breathed, truthfully, although admitting to herself that she also hated to join Mrs. Thornton. That is unfair, Margaret chided herself, she has done nothing since returning that warrants such reaction. She could not help but add, It is not so long since she has returned.
Margaret regretfully left her husband and walked down to the dining room, her fingers wandering over the folds of her skirt as though courage could be found there. Out of habit, she counted her steps, measuring over the distance that she desired to increase instead of erase. One, two…eighteen, nineteen. She found herself before the dining room door. Heaving a sigh, Margaret pressed a hand to the cool wood door and pushed it open.
Hannah shifted in her seat, trying to be subtle about the impatient movement before Edward. After the long journey, Hannah's hunger was a physical discomfort and she had scarcely been able to wait for the dinner hour before partaking in a meal; however, many years of poverty had driven Hannah to a strict practice of taking only three meals with the societal necessity of tea in the afternoon. Even the traveling could not sway her from her routine. Thus, Margaret's slow arrival served, more than usual, to frustrate her punctual mother-in-law.
"How good of you to join me," Hannah managed, when Margaret finally entered.
"I hope you have not been waiting long," Margaret returned, flushing at her mother-in-law's tone and smoothing a hand over her grey cotton dress to remove the wrinkles created by the movement of her anxious hands.
Hannah nodded, accepting Margaret's sentiment without giving a polite falsehood in answer. Once Margaret sat, Hannah offered a quick prayer and Edward served the soup course.
Margaret relaxed as the meal progressed in blessed silence. Sweet relief washed over her at having gotten away with only the first tense exchange. Perhaps their absence from one another's company and created a veil over the rift in their relationship, if it had not quite bridged the gap in the mutual misunderstanding.
Hannah settled back, satisfied at last. Now that her hunger had been satiated, Hannah turned to her daughter-in-law. "I have spoken to the servants about the running of the household in my absence," Hannah stated.
Margaret met Mrs. Thornton's gaze with shock and fought the urge to glare at Edward. She felt thrust back to her school years and the hurt and anger experienced at finding her secreting notes to her cousin had been tattled to the teacher. Margaret attempted to offer an "oh?" but could not force any noise beyond the white-hot outrage growing in her chest.
Edward shrank back into his corner, longing to flee the space, which quickly filled with the familiar tension. Normally, the gossip in him would have overcome the awkwardness and flourished in the private exchange, but Edward felt shame for his part in this sabotage against the new mistress. He could barely manage to gather the empty plates from their third course and steadily walk from the room. Once in the hall, he sighed heavily. "What have I done?" he wondered aloud, then reminded himself that Mrs. Hannah Thornton had demanded the exchange.
"Absent the normal issues," Hannah began, "I noted several failures."
Naturally, Margaret thought.
"First," Hannah explained, "You have fallen dreadfully behind on the sewing. A girl might be excused for sitting idle at times, but a married woman must never be at rest. In that same vein, our unusual circumstances make it more important than usual for you to not fall back to your natural laziness. Without Agnes, Samantha, or Julia, we are placing far too much of a work load on Molly and Edward. As such, we must find ways to decrease their burden. We will cease in providing baskets to the mill workers."
Margaret made a small noise of protest, but her mother-in-law paid her no heed.
"And finally," Hannah continued, "My son lies upon dirty sheets. When with fever or recovering from such, a person's sheets should be changed daily. It is a wonder that he survived your negligence!" Hannah pressed her lips together, determined not to insult her daughter-in-law but only to ensure that these changes be carried out for the good of the household.
Margaret did not even know where to begin. She flushed in shame at Mrs. Thornton's final assault, knowing herself ignorant to such routine actions; yet, her stubbornness was not so easily overcome. "If I were to take full responsibility for the creation and distribution of the baskets for the sick, would you take offense?" she finally asked.
"Nay," Hannah answered. "Indeed, I would think it good to see you making some effort to thwart your general disinterest in your husband's house and its running." Hannah nodded, pleased, and rose to attend to some of that neglected sewing.
Margaret found herself in tears as her mother-in-law quit the room, not an unusual reaction but, her emotion was not one of frustration or anger. Instead, Margaret thought she might be crushed by the weight of her own failures. Of course she should have changed John's sheets, kept up with the sewing, and recognized the stress that her own charitable act had placed on the servants and on her husband. Why, each of the things Mrs. Thornton pointed out emphasized Margaret's inability to properly perform her duties as a wife. Bringing herself under control, Margaret breathed calmly until her sniffling stopped, wiped her eyes on a sleeve, and strode forth, determined to progress. That day it did not seem too much, but then most of the work had already been completed.
The next morning Hannah rose, dressed, and headed to breakfast but was halted upon the sight of Margaret quitting the master bedroom. "Margaret!" Hannah snapped, "Where did you sleep?"
Blushing, Margaret replied, "With my husband."
"Is he likely to rest as he needs with you beside him?"
Margaret did not answer. Her mind, however, considered the question. She had woken several times in the night to the sensation of her husband gathering her to him, kissing her fingertips, and smoothing back a curl of her hair. Perhaps, she realized with a start, he could not sleep because I disturbed him. Knowing John would deny it, Margaret decided that until her husband was well, she would remain absent from his bed.
After breakfasting, Margaret gathered the baskets dropped off by the workers, carrying them by fours up the steps and into the house. Despite her load being empty, Margaret had to stop and catch her breath after several trips up and down the stairs. Then, she set to making the meals to fill the baskets again.
Molly fluttered about at the strangeness of having the mistress at work making bread in her kitchen. "It isna' right! It isna' right!" she muttered. Finally, watching Mrs. Margaret Thornton struggling to lift the heavy stone mixing bowl from a shelf, Molly put her foot down. "Step aside, mistress," she ordered, and the surprised Margaret obeyed. "I willna' tell you that you canna' work in th' kitchen. T'is the kitchen in your house o'course, but I willna' stand here idle watchin' ya bake, for I be o'course the cook in your house."
Margaret tried to protest, but in the end gratefully allowed Molly to help her through the unfamiliar task. Indeed, merely half of the task of mixing and kneading the necessary amount of bread left Margaret's arm and back muscles aching.
"Go on with ya now," Molly commanded when the dough had been set to rise. "I must be makin' your dinner."
Margaret longed to escape to the library and put her feet up. Instead, she trudged up the stairs to where her husband lay.
"Hello, darling," John greeted her, surprised that he had not seen his wife, who had since his illness been a constant companion. Perhaps this stood as proof of her belief in his recovery.
Margaret went and kissed her husband, careful to keep from moaning at the movement of her aching back. "I am come to change your sheets," she explained. "Do you feel strong enough to move to the chair for a minute or shall I call Edward to assist you?"
"It is no trouble," John assured her, making his way from bed to chair.
Margaret tugged the sheets free of the bed and then began to replace the new ones. She could not believe how physically draining this one day had been, and it was barely mid-day. Dropping a quick kiss on her husband's forehead, Margaret hurriedly readied herself and walked down to dinner.
Following the meal, Margaret and Molly baked the bread and then Margaret readied the baskets as Molly began supper preparations. Finally, Margaret carried the filled baskets two at a time from the kitchen out the front and down the steps to the yard.
"Do you need help with those, mistress?" Edward offered. Margaret smiled and would have answered in the affirmative, but just then John called from the open master bedroom door for Edward to help prepare a bath for him. "Coming, sir," Edward replied immediately, with an apologetic smile to the mistress.
Thus, Margaret carried the baskets alone. The heavy exercise so soon after her meal caused Margaret to vomit over the edge of the porch after her fifth or sixth trip, yet she had no choice but to wipe her mouth and continue. She finished just as the mill whistle blew and watched from the top of the steps as the workers filed out of the mill and gathered the baskets, tipping their hats at her and calling up thanks as they left.
It truly was eye opening to know what physical labors her "simple" act of charity had forced upon Molly, Edward, and John. It was a wonder that John had lasted eight days before his fever worsened with the workload forced upon him by his wife! Margaret felt again a rush of shame and unworthiness at the thought of her selfish actions. She blinked back the tears that rushed into her eyes and went to prepare for supper.
"You seem tired," John noticed, as Margaret changed.
"It is nothing," Margaret was quick to assure him. She smoothed his hair, kissed him, and headed down to supper.
Hannah noted Margaret's silence during both dinner and supper, thinking it merely sullenness at Hannah's insistence that Margaret take on more work in the house. She kept her own silence, waiting out her daughter-in-law's poor attitude.
After supper, Margaret could scarcely force herself to lift her legs high enough to climb the stairs. "Good night," she called in to John.
"Are you not coming to bed?" John asked.
"I thought to sleep elsewhere this night," Margaret responded, vaguely, and found her way to the lavender bedroom that she had nevermore thought to occupy. Falling into bed, she was asleep in moments, still fully clothed.
John did not understand his wife's absence from his bed, but wondered if his restlessness at remaining abed had kept her awake the previous night. She did appear tired and John could only imagine what his mother might have said to worry his wife, but, since Margaret denied that anything was wrong, John could only hope that this empty spot beside him was a one-time occurrence.