"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same." — Emily Brontë

Chapter Eight: Crampton

On Tuesday evening, Dr. Donaldson came to assist with the transport of his patient. He examined Miss Hale and rewrapped her bandages. After the mill yard had cleared, and the lamplighters had made their rounds to illuminate the streets of Milton proper, the time had come for Margaret to return to her home in Crampton where she would be more comfortable during the long weeks of her recovery.

John settled Margaret into the carriage as carefully as he could, but he heard a small gasp of pain as he shifted her from his arms to the carriage bench.

With every jolt and bump, even in the darkness alleviated only by the moonlight and the faint illumination provided by the streetlamps, John could see the pain in Margaret's usually serene countenance. She was being brave, but the effort not to cry out was evident. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and she bit her beautiful lips to keep her misery to herself.

He ached to hold her close in his arms to buffer her from the movement of the carriage, but he did not have the right. Dr. Donaldson tried to distract her by speaking of her father and how anxious he was to have his daughter back home.

John added that Mary was helping Dixon at the house while the mill canteen was being repaired.

Margaret heard their words but could do nothing more than acknowledge their comments with barely a nod. She had never experienced pain like she felt now and was barely enduring it.

The two-mile ride was arduous for Margaret, and she willed it to be over quickly. Her only consolation was at the journey's end; she would once again feel John's arms around her. Even in her terrible pain, there would be at least that one small pleasure.

Dr. Donaldson alighted the carriage first, and before he could even get to the door to alert Richard Hale that they had arrived, the door swung open. Dixon was eagerly awaiting her mistress's return home.

Before gently lifting her in his arms, John whispered to her, "Miss Hale, I will do my best not to cause you undo pain."

"I know you do not intend to, but it cannot be helped." She put her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder. John could barely focus on getting her up the stairs safely. Her soft hair was touching his chin and he inhaled the lovely scent of her floral shampoo. He wanted to bury his face in her soft hair and gather her closer.

John carried Margaret upstairs to her room and set her carefully on the bed. Her hands slid slowly from his neck, and for a moment, their eyes met. Her slightly parted lips were so close to his; a mere inch separated her lips from his kiss. He felt her warm, sweet breath on his face and his breath quickened. He trailed his fingers down her arms and he heard her sigh.

Dixon cleared her throat, and he was reminded they were not alone. He quickly left the room, but he looked back at her. Her eyes met his, and he stood there for a moment before he tore himself away from her to join the other men in the study.

While Dixon got Margaret settled in her room, Dr. Donaldson spoke to both men. Margaret would not be able to go up and down the stairs on her own just yet. The risk of her falling was too great.

"Mr. Hale, if she is to come to sit in the study or drawing room with you, she will have to be carried or at least be assisted as she navigates the stairs."

He continued, "Your daughter will need to eat well to regain her strength. John told me that his cook would be sending meals over for the next several days, so Dixon can focus on caring for Miss Hale."

"Of course, Dr. Donaldson, and thank you, John."

John walked the doctor out to the carriage and asked him to send all medical bills to him. Miss Hale was injured on his property, and he felt responsible for taking care of her. In truth, it made him feel closer to her, to care for her as if she were his very own Margaret.

Dr. Donaldson agreed and bid John a good evening.

As John walked toward the mill house, he thought of her. Margaret…he remembered the sweetness of her head on his shoulder tonight and her arms around his neck. All his attention had been on economizing his movements to minimize her pain, but now he could let his thoughts take free reign.

What would it be like to pick her up in his arms on their wedding night and carry her to their bed, to kiss her breathless until her body responded to his?

To be her husband was his deepest and most ardent desire. He would pray fervently for a chance to show her that he would love her as no other man had ever loved a woman.

…ooOoo…

John made his way home quickly and went to the drawing room to speak with his mother.

"John, is Miss Hale settled? She will be more comfortable in her own home; I am sure of it. It is only natural to want to be in familiar surroundings when a person does not feel well."

"Yes, Mother, she will be well-cared for. Thank you for all you have done for her. I appreciate it."

The two shared a quiet dinner together. Instead of retiring to the drawing room for conversation, John bent to kiss his mother's cheek.

"Goodnight, Mother."

Hannah was disappointed. They had not had any time, just the two of them since Miss Hale's accident. However, she did not ask him to stay.

"I will see you at breakfast in the morning, Son."

John turned briefly to look at her, "Of course, Mother."

Before going to his own room, John stepped in the room where Margaret had been only hours before. The room had been cleaned and the bed freshly made. It was as if she had never been there, but he felt her absence keenly.

In his room, John partially undressed and poured himself a snifter of brandy. He sat before the fire and thought of her.

He was certain she was no longer indifferent to him. Tonight, he was sure she felt the attraction between them. Her eyes had darkened as his hands trailed down her arms.

His desire for her was more powerful than ever. Her lips were so close to his tonight when he had set her on the bed. He could feel the heat emanating from her body, and it was all he could do to step back and leave the room.

He stood up and paced the room to rid himself of the restless energy. He had to be patient for things to develop between them, and it would be months before he could officially court her. If she accepted him, they could not marry for quite some time.

He groaned in frustration and downed the rest of his brandy.

John finished undressing and slid beneath the sheets. The fireplace provided warmth from the frigid winter night air. John closed his eyes and ran his hands across the empty side of the bed. Margaret's side. If she would have him.

…ooOoo…

Mary had been helping at the Crampton house since Monday, and she was glad on Wednesday morning to see that Miss Margaret was home. She crept in as quietly as she could to light a fire to warm the room.

Margaret stirred, and Mary was about to leave the room when Margaret called out to her, "Mary, will you please stay for a moment?"

Mary smiled at her friend, "Yes, Miss."

"I have not seen you since the accident, Mary. Are you well?'

"Yes, and Mr. Thornton has been kind to me. He sent a basket of food to our family on Sunday so I might rest. He paid me for the week, even though the canteen is closed. He is a good man, Miss Margaret."

"He is a good man, Mary, and I was well-taken care of in his home. I am glad to be back here in my own bed, though. Tomorrow morning, I will be able to get up and walk around this room and the hallway."

Mary smiled and took Margaret's hand, "Nothing will keep you down for long, Miss Margaret. You will be back taking baskets to Princeton very soon. Now, let me help you sit up a bit more, and then I will bring you some breakfast."

...ooOoo…

Mary and Margaret spent time together every day, and Mary always had tidbits to share about Mr. Thornton.

"Miss, Mr. Thornton came to our home last night for supper, and he read to the children. He said he had gone to the booksellers to add some titles to his library, and he thought of them. Wasn't that kind of him, Miss Margaret?"

"Yes, I think it's very fine, Mary."

"He thought of you, too. I will go down and get the package he left early this morning for you. Miss Margaret. I will bring tea as well."

"Thank you, Mary. Please bring an extra teacup if you have time to have tea with me."

"Yes, Miss. I will be back directly."

Mary handed the package from Mr. Thornton to Miss Margaret and poured them both a cup of tea.

Margaret unwrapped the paper and inside were three books: Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens, Persuasion by Jane Austen, and Mary Barton by Elizabeth Gaskell. There was a letter included in the package addressed to her.

Miss Hale,

I thought you might enjoy these books, all for different reasons. Of course, Mr. Charles Dickens writes about the gritty realities of poverty, and I know you to be a very compassionate person, so you will be sympathetic to the protagonist of the story. Persuasion, I am told, is a love story, but the main characters went through years of separation before finally reconciling. Mr. Smith, the bookseller, tells me that all of Miss Jane Austen's books are popular with the young ladies. I bought a second copy for myself so that we might discuss it from time to time if you wish. The last story, Mary Barton, I am told was written by a devout Christian woman, Elizabeth Gaskell, who lives in Northern England. I have not read her books, but I thought reading a work of fiction written from her perspective might appeal to you.

I look forward to seeing you soon.

Yours, John Thornton

Margaret looked up from the note and told Mary that Mr. Thornton had written why he had chosen each title for her.

Mary sighed, "Miss Margaret, that man surely cares for you. Bessie knew it, and she said that you would someday marry Mr. Thornton and live in the house with his mother, The Dragon."

Margaret was shocked to hear Mary refer to Mrs. Thornton as such, but it reminded her so much of something Bessie would say. She smiled and took Mary's hands in hers, "I am so glad for your friendship, Mary. It means as much to me as Bessie's friendship did. Thank you."

Mary blinked away the tears, and the words would not come. Instead, she refreshed Margaret's tea, and they shared the delicious scones Dixon had made.

After Mary left to take the dishes to the kitchen, Margaret looked at the three treasures she had been gifted this morning and chose to read Persuasion first. Inside the cover was an inscription: To Miss Hale, from John Thornton. May the hours you spend reading Miss Austen's words bring you pleasure.

Margaret ran her hand across the words he had written to her. Even when he scowled, he was a handsome man, but it was the handsome man inside who she loved. He was kind, thoughtful, and considerate. She knew the man he was now, but it was too late. He had offered, and she had refused.

Sighing with regret, Margaret turned the page and began to read Jane Austen's romantic tale about Anne Elliot and Captain Frederick Wentworth.

…ooOoo…

John visited the house in Crampton only on Thursday evening that first week. Although John chafed at not being able to visit her every day, by limiting his visits, he was protecting her from more slanderous gossip.

John was struggling with his conscience. When he offered for Miss Hale after the riot, he had not spoken to Richard about his intentions. Yes, the circumstances were unusual at that time, but Richard was his friend, and he should have spoken to him.

Before his lessons tonight, he would speak to Richard about his feelings for his daughter. He sat down at his desk and wrote a note to Richard requesting a private audience before his lesson.

After the last shift ended, John went home to wash and change before going to Crampton. On his way out, he stopped in the drawing room and told his mother he would be out for the evening but planned to be home for dinner.

He donned his hat and gloves, then wrapped a wool scarf around his neck. It was bitterly cold, but nothing would keep him from Crampton tonight.

Dixon opened the door on his first knock, and he gratefully entered the warm house. After taking his outerwear, Dixon told him she would bring tea up shortly if he wanted to see himself to the study.

Richard stood to shake his hand when he entered the study.

"Sit down, John, I am glad you could come tonight, despite this bitter weather we are having. "

Richard invited John to take a seat by the fire.

"Dr. Donaldson was here this afternoon and said Margaret was healing nicely. Her appetite has returned some. She is eating three meals a day and drinking the bone broth your cook sends over as well. I expect she will be back to her old self sooner rather than later."

John was glad to hear it but wondered if Richard had any idea just how malnourished his daughter had been at the time of the accident.

Dixon entered the room with the tea tray, served the men, and left.

As they sipped their steaming cups of tea, John cleared his throat.

"Richard, there is something I need to speak to you about."

He nodded his head to encourage John to go on.

"What is it, John?"

"For some time, I have had strong feelings for your daughter. In fact, I love her quite ardently."

When John did not continue, Richard asked, "Have you spoken to her about your feelings, John?"

"Yes, months ago, but as you well know, we do not always get on well together."

Richard chuckled, "Yes, the two of you do disagree at times, vehemently so. However, I can tell that her opinion of you has altered from when she first met you. She speaks well of you, John. When I told her that I had spoken to you about Frederick, she was relieved for you to know the truth."

John was glad to hear it. "Thank you, Richard."

"You know that propriety dictates that she honors at least six months of full-mourning before you ask for a courtship."

"I would wait the rest of my life for her if I needed to."

Richard smiled at his friend, "I believe you would. Be patient with her, John."

"I will wait to speak to her until the time is right. I asked for her hand the first time right after the riot, and she refused me. It is why I stopped coming for lessons, Richard. I just could not bear to be in her presence."

"Of course not, John. I understand. I am glad things are better between the two of you now."

"You know in October, in the space of only a few weeks, Margaret lost both her friend, Bessie Higgins, and her mother. She was the strong one for both Fred and me when Maria died. She and Dixon sewed her shroud and prepared her for burial."

John had not known that, and he once again felt shame that he had not been more supportive of Richard and Margaret.

"My Margaret is a remarkable woman, John."

"Yes, she is. Hopefully, she will not have to face such a profound loss again for many years to come."

Dixon came to refresh their tea and said that Miss Margaret would be along shortly.

When she joined the men, she offered her hand to John, and he held on to it for longer than necessary. Margaret blushed deeply and gently retrieved her hand. She took in her usual chair and began sewing.

Margaret was content to listen as the two men spoke of Plato's writings about the human soul. Her father was explaining that Plato believed the soul is indestructible and not even evil can destroy the soul.

John thought of his father, and there were those who believed his father's soul was lost due to the nature of his death. John hoped Plato was right, and his father's soul was indestructible. He prayed every day that his father was welcomed into the Kingdom of Heaven. It had long grieved John that his father had not been buried in the cemetery at their church.

His father's death had left their family destitute since the familial forfeiture of the Thornton's property had been enforced. The day they left their family home, they took only what they could carry.

Richard closed his book and said, "Before we conclude tonight, would you like us to pray for your father, John?"

John's voice was hoarse with emotion, "Yes, Richard, I would like that very much."

Margaret stood between her father and the man she loved. She held their hands in hers as her father prayed for Mr. Thornton's father.

John was deeply moved by the experience. Never once in the seventeen years since his father's death, had anyone offered a prayer in his presence for his father's soul. It meant a great deal to John.

Margaret's hand in his gave him comfort and understanding. In this humble home, there was no judgment of his father, only hope that his soul had found eternal life.

John felt a sense of home and belonging tonight in the cozy study. There was love in this room, not just the love between Margaret and her father, but love for God and love of learning. There was his love for Margaret as well.

Richard told them he had a book he wanted to give John, and he would return in a few minutes.

Margaret refreshed John's tea and sat across from him.

"Mr. Thornton, I miss Mama every day, and I believe I will for the rest of my life, just as you miss your father still. It is the price we pay for loving someone so dearly, but it is worth it."

"Yes, Miss Hale, it most certainly is. I visit my father's grave regularly, and it may sound silly, but I speak to him."

"It is not silly at all, Mr. Thornton; I do the same when I visit Mama's grave, and I am sad that I cannot go for the time being. It comforts me to tend to her grave and it makes me feel less lonely for her."

"I will tend to it for now, Miss Hale. I wish I had known your mother better."

"Thank you. She thought well of you, Mr. Thornton, and your visits always lifted her spirits."

"I am glad of it, Miss Hale."

Richard stood outside the door for a moment, listening to his daughter and his friend speak. They were clearly much closer these days, and it pleased Richard. He hoped to call John his son-in-law someday.

"John, this book contains the copies of several weeks of sermons I wrote after Frederick was charged with mutiny. Even in our small village, it was quite a scandal, and we felt the sting of it for months. I did a great deal of soul-searching to try and understand why Fred made the choices he did, and these sermons were lessons I learned from scripture."

"Mr. Hale, I hardly know what to say. I will treasure your gift, thank you."

"You are most welcome, and I do hope you know you can always come to me if something troubles you."

"Yes, and thank you, Richard. I must be on my way home, but this evening has been a memorable one."

After the men shook hands and said goodnight, John turned to Margaret.

"Mr. Thornton, I hope you know that you are a most beloved friend to my father and me. You are always welcome here."

"Thank you, Miss Hale, and I will come as often as time permits."

They stood there, gazing at each other, reluctant to part.

Dixon made her way down upstairs and stood in the hallway.

"Goodnight, Miss Hale."

"Be careful going home, Mr. Thornton."

"I will, Miss Hale, because you ask it of me."

John put on his hat and gloves and left for the mill house.

…ooOoo…

After dinner, John went to his room to sit before the warm fire, and to read the sermons Richard had given him. There was one in particular that touched his heart about a father's need to understand why something so terrible had happened to his son to take him from his loving family.

John understood. He often wondered why his father had made the choices he made which took him from their family.

Tonight, he had gotten a glimpse of what the future could be like for him and Margaret. They would raise their children in faith, and their vows to each other would be held as sacred for their whole lives.

He had never wanted to be her husband more than he did at this very moment.

John had to believe it would be so because the thought of living the life without Margaret was unfathomable.

He loved her more than he knew it was possible to love her. She was coming to care for him, he could feel it. He had to trust that someday she would be his Margaret.

Someday could not come soon enough.