"Better to put your heart on the line, risk everything and walk with nothing rather than to play it safe."—Mandy Hale

Chapter Six: Quietly Courting

Margaret awoke in the night and found Dixon sleeping soundly in her chair. It felt odd spending the night at the mill house. The bed was more comfortable than her own at home, but she would rather be in Crampton. Mr. Thornton had been exceedingly kind, and his mother had seen to her care, but she knew that Mrs. Thornton had not forgiven her for refusing her son.

She wished she could get up and walk around the bed a bit, but she was told that she would not be able to get out of bed for another day. Even then, she must be economical in her movements and not do anything to disrupt the healing of her fractured ribs.

Even though she was in pain, Margaret did not want to take more laudanum because it made her sleepy and her thoughts fuzzy. She wanted to remember the events of yesterday with as much clarity as possible.

She and Mary had just finished the last of the cleaning in the canteen when they heard a rumbling noise. The mill yard was a busy and noisy place while in operation, so they did not think much of it. Before either of them knew what was happening, the roof started caving in. The beam crashing down was the last thing Margaret remembered until she heard Mr. Thornton calling her name and carrying her out of the building that by then had begun filling with smoke.

She gave a prayer of thanks that she had not been hurt worse, and that Mary was unharmed.

Margaret closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep. When she next opened her eyes, she found herself looking directly into the deep blue eyes of Mr. Thornton. He was standing in the doorway, and for a moment, neither of them looked away.

The sun had just come up, and a faint light was streaming through the window, providing just enough light for them to see each other.

John spoke softly, "Is the pain bearable, Miss Hale? Were you able to rest comfortably?"

"Yes, I was able to, thank you. At least as comfortably as one can sleep under the circumstances."

"Mr. Thornton, was there much damage to the mill?"

"Thankfully not, Miss Hale. I wish there had been some indication that the roof on that old building was derelict. The heavy snow had put too much pressure on the support beam that held up the roof, and it cracked under the stress of it."

"Tomorrow morning, a crew will begin the repairs. The fire was put out before the building was engulfed in flames, so it did not spread to any other buildings. Work can resume as normal, and none of the workers will lose wages, including Mary."

"I am glad of it, Mr. Thornton."

"Miss Hale, I hope you can forgive me. I cannot tell you how it grieves me that you were injured."

"Mr. Thornton, there is nothing to forgive. It was not your fault. In life, accidents happen."

Margaret felt shy because she was very aware of him as a man. He had not shaved, and the stubble on his usually close-shaven face was quite attractive. He was in his shirt sleeves with his waistcoat on, but no cravat. Even in the dim light, she saw the strong column of his neck. She had never seen a man in such a state of undress, and she felt a curious warmth come over her.

Reigning in her thoughts, she said, "I owe you my gratitude for rescuing me. I will never forget it, Mr. Thornton."

He replied, his voice husky with emotion, "Just as I will never forget how you saved me the day of the riot."

"I had sent you into danger, not really understanding how treacherous the situation was, Mr. Thornton. Once I realized it, I could not stand to see anyone hurt you without doing all I could to protect you. I did not think they would hurt a woman."

Dixon was stirring, and the privacy of the moment was now lost. And... the conversation brought up painful memories. John noticed Margaret had lowered her eyes and was no doubt remembering events that followed the next day. Sensing her discomfort, he turned to leave, but told her that he would be back later to check on her.

…ooOoo…

John left the mill house and walked to the canteen to survey the damage. He shuddered to think what might have happened if the full weight of the beam had fallen on Margaret. It was bad enough that Miss Hale was injured, but if the beam had not been caught by one of the benches in the canteen, she might have been killed. The very thought of it distressed him immensely.

As he walked through the rubble, he spotted the remains of Margaret's colorful embroidered apron. The apron was destroyed by the fire, and all that remained was several inches of charred cloth stitched in yellow roses, much like the ones she embroidered on his handkerchief.

John retrieved it and put it in his pocket. He also found her brown coat and that dismal hat she always wore; he picked them both up as well. John would ask his mother to take the coat to the modiste and the hat to the milliner to be replaced. He was sure the coat was the only one Miss Hale had, and she would need it as soon as she could return to her daily walks outside.

If she would allow it, he would escort her on those walks. He knew she went to visit her mother's grave every week, and he would go in her stead until she could resume her visits.

He went to his office. It was quite early, and as it was Sunday; the mill was closed. John checked his pocket watch, and it was barely seven o'clock. When he opened the door to Margaret's room this morning, he had expected to see her sleeping.

John had only meant to check on her before leaving the house, but he was drawn to Miss Hale like a moth to a flame. He could not stay away from her if he tried. The pull was too strong, and the temptation too great to resist seeing her.

Their conversation, albeit a brief one, was enlightening to John. He liked hearing her thoughts, especially when it came to their interactions. There was something between them, he was just not sure Miss Hale realized it yet. But what was that something? Friendship? Was it possible her opinion of him had changed?

Even though things were better between them, the demons of insecurity still plagued him. With no experience in courting a woman, he had no clue how to win her heart, and he certainly could not go to the women in his family for advice.

When he had offered for her, she had asked him not to speak to her of his feelings because it was not the way of a gentleman. How did a gentleman in the South show a woman that he loved her? He knew he was not worthy of her, but no man would ever love her as he did. He had to try and win her love or live with regret for the rest of his life.

John wondered what his father would advise him to do. He searched his memory for any bits of wisdom his father imparted to him as a younger man.

He recalled the last year he was in school at The Boys School of Milton. He did well in his studies, but John was picked on relentlessly by the sons of wealthier and more influential families. He was a tradesman's son, and tradesmen were held in lower esteem by society than those who wielded power through finance and politics.

He once spoke to his father about his troubles at school, and George Thornton told his son, "Nobody is better than someone else due to the circumstances of their birth. A man's character is what sets him apart from other men, not their place in society. Never let anything or anyone keep you from what you want because you do not feel worthy."

John smiled at the memory, and it was good advice then, as it was now.

When Margaret had first moved to Milton, he knew she was prejudiced against what she thought she knew of him, but as she had adjusted to life in Milton, he felt she thought better of him. She was fair in her assessment that he was a hard master; he had to be. He hoped she knew that now.

In business, he had all the confidence in the world. He had brought his family out of the depths of poverty into wealth. The Thorntons were socially prominent in the mill community. He was well-known in the cotton industry, and Marlborough Mills had the reputation of producing a superior product and getting orders out on time.

Yes, she was born of gentry, but in Milton, she was a parson's daughter. It was not the circumstances of birth that separated them, but instead, their lack of understanding of the differences between the North and the South.

He remembered a conversation he previously had with Richard about the poverty of the residents of Princeton and Margaret's determination to take baskets to families she knew.

Richard had said, "'Charity, in its truest form, is continuous effort to make life better for others, especially those who have less than you regardless of your financial situation. 'Scripture says, 'Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God. – Hebrews 13:16'."

John knew Margaret was a compassionate woman and was more generous than she could afford to be. He shuddered to think of how hunger must have gnawed at her insides when there was not enough money in the Hale household to provide enough food for three adults.

If he was going to win her heart, he had to begin with her mind. They had to come to understand each other without him pressuring her for more than she was willing or ready to give. He had to listen to what was in her heart and to not take offense when her beliefs differed from his.

He would quietly court her. If the time ever came again to ask for her hand, she would know he was asking her to share his life because he loved her unconditionally. He would cherish her for who she was even when they did not agree.

Satisfied that he had a plan, John walked through the mill and looked over the equipment and looms. He made notes of any repairs that needed to be made on Monday morning.

After completing his inspection, he went to the room where cloth was kept from the occasional order that was canceled or left unpaid. There were several bolts of fine black cotton, and John took one from the shelf. Margaret's mourning gown would need to be replaced.

John's time as a draper's assistant had taught him that a simple gown for a woman of Margaret's size would require seven to eight yards. He laid the bolt out on the cutting table and cut two lengths, both eight yards each. Next, he took down a bolt of lighter weight cotton, and cut several lengths of four yards each for petticoats.

John folded each length of cloth with care. He wrapped his gift in brown paper and tied it together with twine. He would give the package to Dixon when they returned to Crampton. Margaret intended to be in mourning for a full year, so at least two dresses would be required so one could be laundered while the other was in service. He put everything back in its place before leaving to have breakfast with his mother.

He went directly to the dining room.

"John, you are late for breakfast, but I will have Cook bring you a plate now." Hannah poured her son a cup of tea.

When Cook brought in his steaming plate of ham and eggs, she asked if there was anything in particular that Miss Hale liked to eat.

"That young lady has lost some weight, and I aim to fatten her up a bit while she is here."

John said, "I appreciate that, Cook. From my visits to her home, I know she likes scones and apricot jam. Her favorite tea is Earl Grey, and she loves lemon biscuits. I stayed for dinner once and we had roast chicken and vegetables. More than that, I really do not know, but I will ask Dixon to provide you with a list of things she likes to eat."

"Thank you, Mr. Thornton."

John rewarded her with a smile.

Hannah was not pleased. "Really, John! You will surely have set the servants to gossiping now that you have our cook catering to Miss Hale in such a way. You must take care to prevent such talk."

John spoke to his mother quietly, but firmly. "Mother, I hardly think our cook preparing food to tempt Miss Hale to eat would be worthy of gossip."

He picked up his fork and resumed eating. Hannah sipped her tea, irritated with her son, and the rest of the meal was consumed in silence.

…ooOoo…

After lunch, John saw Richard home, but Dixon would stay for another night.

He was restless, so he dismissed the carriage in Crampton and walked through Milton proper. He stopped at the flower vendor and bought two bouquets, one to put on Mrs. Hale's grave and one for his father's.

The sky was clear, and he enjoyed being out in the crisp air, despite the cold. When he arrived at Maria Hale's grave, he brushed the snow off the top of her head stone and laid the flowers in front of her grave. He prayed for her and stood there for a long moment thinking how much it must have meant to Mrs. Hale to have her family with her at the end of her life. What a risk Frederick Hale had taken to say goodbye to his beloved mother.

Next, he walked to his father's grave and removed the flowers he had brought on his last visit. He replaced them and laid his hand on his father's headstone.

"Father, I miss you more as the years pass. There are times I would give anything to sit before the fire with you and talk about things close to my heart… things a son can only speak to his father about."

"I am going to do all I can to be the man Margaret needs me to be. I want to be worthy of her and to be a gentleman in her eyes. I wish you were here to guide me. I will not give up on winning her love, Father. She means too much to me."

For a while, John stood there next to his father's grave, and he felt the familiar dull ache of grief in his chest that had never completely abated since his father's death.

He rubbed his gloved hand over his father's name that had been carved in stone that had weathered the harsh climate of Milton-Northern for the last seventeen years.

He prayed for his father's soul and a sense of peace came over him.

John left to return home and stopped once more at the flower vendor to buy a bouquet of roses for Miss Hale.

…ooOoo…

During dinner, Hannah informed him they had received an invitation to have dinner with the Latimers on Thursday evening. John told her he had lessons with Richard Hale that night, and she was free to accept the invitation without him.

"Really, John! You must not forget the power Latimer has as your banker. It will offend him, I am sure of it, if you refuse the invitation."

"I am not obligated to Latimer because I have a loan with his bank. I have plans for that night, and I will not change them. If Miss Hale has not returned to Crampton that night, I will invite Richard here for our lesson, and if she has, I will go to their home."

Hannah sputtered but held her tongue. When John had set his mind to something, there was little she could say to change it. There was a time when he listened to her, but those days seemed to have passed.

John kissed her cheek, bid her a goodnight, and went to see Margaret.

Dixon had taken the tray from the dinner downstairs. Margaret was alone and quite restless.

John wished he could sit beside her, read to her, and help her pass the time.

When she saw him, she smiled, "Mr. Thornton, the roses are beautiful, thank you for thinking of me."

He wanted to tell her that he had a hard time thinking of anything else.

"I am happy they please you, Miss Hale. I know you must be tired of being in bed, but Dr. Donaldson said you could move about with assistance tomorrow."

"Yes, tomorrow, and I will be glad of it. I am not used to being idle and it vexes me. I like to keep busy."

John smiled and teased her, "Spoken like a true Northerner, Miss Hale. I do believe you have adapted to our Milton ways."

"I am learning them, Mr. Thornton. There is much to admire in the industry of the people here."

"I am glad you think so, Miss Hale."

He heard Dixon coming up the stairs and took one last look at the woman he loved.

"Goodnight, Miss Hale. I hope you sleep well."

She smiled in response, "Sweet dreams, Mr. Thornton."

…ooOoo…

John washed and got ready for bed. He sat up against his headboard and thought about the day.

Margaret was warm in her manner to him and had seemed pleased with his gift of flowers. She smiled easily at him now, and there was a new candor in their conversations. Maybe because neither of them was looking to be offended, they were better able to communicate their thoughts.

This was the second night she was spending in his home, and he had seen to her every comfort. He wanted to delay her return to Crampton a few more days if possible. In his house, he could be assured she was eating properly and was looked after well. In Crampton, Dixon would be hard-pressed to keep up with all the housekeeping while Margaret needed care.

He wondered if Mary Higgins would be willing to help out at the Hales while the canteen was being repaired. He would ask Higgins about it tomorrow.

His thoughts turned to his mother and his frustration with her refusal to accept that his heart was Margaret's, and that he had no interest in marrying any of the women of her choosing.

He remembered when Watson offered for Fanny. As the head of the family, he reluctantly agreed to it. Not a single one of the younger men in their acquaintances had ever called on his sister. Her spendthrift ways were well-known and frankly, few young men could afford to support her, even with her generous dowry.

His mother had agreed to the marriage of his sister to Watson without any reservations. Watson was at least twenty years older than Fanny, overweight and unattractive, but he was wealthy. Watson wanted a young and pretty wife to bear him children, and he found that in his sister.

Their wedding day had been painful for him. Margaret and her father attended, and as he walked Fanny down the aisle, his eyes met Margaret's briefly. This should have been their day if she had accepted him. All throughout the service, John lamented all that could have been, but was not, nor would ever be.

Miss Latimer had hung on to him constantly that day. There was no way he could extricate himself from her cloying presence without offending her and her father, so he endured it. After the wedding, John had looked for Miss Hale and her father, but before he could walk across to greet them, Miss Latimer took his arm.

If John had not been distracted, he would have seen pain flit across Margaret's face. The Hales had not attended the wedding breakfast, so he never got a chance to speak to her that day. He knew how things had appeared to Miss Hale, that he formed an attachment to Miss Latimer so quickly after declaring his love for her. How could he expect her to know that he was speaking from his heart if his actions had spoken otherwise?

The Thorntons and the Latimers were often at the same social occasions, but he would have to curtail his attendance at those events from now on. He would never marry Anne Latimer, not for all the money in her father's bank.

His heart was firmly and forever committed to Margaret, and while he had never wavered in his love for her, she did not know that.

He slid down to get comfortable in the bed that was made for two. She would fit perfectly beside him, and in his dreams of her, she slept wrapped in his arms every night.

John closed his eyes, and prayed that someday, those dreams would become reality.

Sweet Dreams…indeed.