Chapter 18


For the whole of the following day, Margaret struggled to focus. She went about her tasks as usual, but her mind was far away.

The hours seemed to drag on while she was teaching Emma, and even a walk in the park, which they took in the afternoon, did nothing to raise her spirits.

That evening, as Margaret had sat down to eat her supper, she heard the pipe signalling the end of the last shift for the workers. She threw a glance out of the window just in time to see one of the doors of the factory open and a large group of young women walk out toward the gates.

Struck by a sudden impulse, she jumped up from her chair.

Bessy – she was about to come out of the mill and head home to Princeton. Margaret needed to speak to her. Of all the people she knew in Milton, Bessy was her closest friend and the only one she felt safe sharing her troubles with.

In a matter of seconds, she slipped into her shoes, threw a shawl over her shoulders, and headed out of her room and down the stairs.

Slightly out of breath, she reached the green mill gates just in time to see Bessy emerge from the spinning shed. It took the young woman a moment to notice Margaret, but then her eyes lit up in sudden recognition.

Margaret quickly nodded toward the side of the gate, indicating that she wanted to speak with Bessy in private, and the girl took the hint, stepped away from the other workers and followed her until they were out of immediate earshot.

"Margaret, what are ye doing here at this time? Are ye not havin' supper?"

"Bessy, do you have a moment? There is something I need to tell you, and I long to hear your opinion on it."

A little frown crossed Bessy's face. "Of course, but whatever happened? Ye look a bit distraught."

Margaret took her friend's arm and pulled her even further away from the other workers until they stood near the wall of the factory, without anyone else nearby.

There, she relayed all that she had overheard the day before. Her words came quickly, almost frantically, unwilling to be held in any longer.

As Bessy listened, her face grew increasingly thoughtful and concerned.

"So what are ye goin' to do now?" she eventually asked, looking at her friend with big eyes.

Margaret was silent for a long moment. Then she said in a very low voice: "I don't know."

It sounded just as lost as she felt. She wanted to cry.

"Oh dear," the other girl sighed and reached out to put a gentle hand on Margaret's arm, providing some welcome comfort.

"I don't know what I will do," Margaret whispered once again. "If it is indeed true, I cannot stay. You know I cannot."

Bessy looked into her face with an earnest expression. "But Margaret, 'e would never act on it, even if it were true. Ye know…" she sighed.

"I know from the girls in Princeton 'bout the other mills. How the masters sometimes get too close to them. Pretendin' to just inspect the work they're doing, and then gropin' with their 'ands, and things like that."

At Margaret's shocked expression, a sad little smile crossed Bessy's face. "Oh, it's always been this way, at all the mills. If ye want to keep yer job, ye better do as they please. Be it Slickson or Hamper or Brown, they're all the same. But not Thornton. Never 'im."

Margaret's head snapped up at that, wide-eyed, and Bessy went on:

"I've never seen 'im overstep nor heard of it. And 'e makes short work with lads who try to badger women in the mill. It's happened before, an' he dismissed them. Makes regular rounds through the sheds to ensure nothin' unchaste is 'appenin'."

Bessy leaned her back against the stone wall behind her and let her eyes briefly linger on the last workers who walked down Marlborough Street, before fixing Margaret with her gaze once more.

"Father doesn't like him much, what with 'imself bein' a union man and Thornton a master, but even 'e knows that Thornton's an honest man and that we can be glad to be workin' for him rather than any other master. So if 'e likes ye in any such way, Margaret, and it would not surprise me if 'e did, seeing that ye are one bonnie lass, I don't think he'd ever do anythin' about it."

"But Bessy," Margaret uttered in dismay. "The thought alone that he…how could I ever be in the same room with him, look into his face, knowing…oh, it would make me so uncomfortable, just to think…how could I stay here?"

"Surely you're not really thinkin' of leaving?" Bessy looked at her in shock.

"Margaret—ye must not. I could not bear to lose you, and ye have a good position 'ere. Please don't make any rash decisions. Ye don't even know if it's true and not just some tittle-tattle."

Margaret quickly shook her head. "No, you are right, I must not." She knew she was trying to convince herself as much as her friend.

For a moment they stood, both deep in thought. Then, Bessy looked up at her. "And I mean, would it be so bad?"

"Excuse me?"

"If 'e were a bit taken by you, Margaret? He is quite handsome, and rich too. There's loads o' girls after 'im, ye know?"

"Bessy!" Margaret could only stare at the other woman. "You cannot be serious. He would never…he could never make me an offer of any kind."

"Whyever not? It's not un'eard of," Bessy stated matter-of-factly.

"You are not being much help," Margaret muttered in dismay.

"I'm sorry. But, Margaret, I'm bein' serious. What if he asked?"

"He would never."

"But if he did? Would ye say yes?"

This was followed by silence, broken only by the cluttering of a cart leaving the yard.

Margaret stood, stunned, as though she had been hit.

Something in her look made Bessy's eyes widen.

"Oh dear God!"

"I-" Margaret could not go on, suddenly feeling her eyes well up with tears.

"Oh Margaret!" the other exclaimed. "Ye would, wouldn't you?"

A second later, Margaret was being pulled into Bessy's arms, and then she found herself crying against her friend's shoulder, as the gravity of her own emotions swept over her like a tidal wave.

Up until this very moment, Margaret had never given much thought to how it would feel to care for a man. She had grown up with the knowledge that marriage was something that would sooner or later be expected of her, but while her own parents had been blessed with a love match, she had never fooled herself into thinking that many people would find this sort of connection.

And Mr Thornton…there was certainly nothing romantic about the way he had entered her life. So why was she suddenly so distraught?

Bessy carefully patted her back. "Oh, ye poor lass, look at you," she murmured compassionately. "He is a very handsome man. It's no wonder ye would fall for 'im."

At this, Margaret carefully took a step back, suddenly needing some room to breathe.

She could not meet her friend's eyes, as she pulled out her handkerchief and began dabbing her eyes almost stubbornly.

"I need to go, Bessy. They will notice my absence if I don't. Thank you for…thank you."

Then she turned and, without being able to utter another word, she fled as quickly as her feet would carry her across the now empty yard toward Marlborough House.

..ooOOoo..

Up in her room, Margaret was frantically pacing back and forth, unable to calm her racing thoughts.

Was there any truth in Bessy's words? How could there be? She had disliked him for such a long time.

But had she really?

When had these feelings changed? She could not settle on any definitive moment. It must have been such a gradual process that it had completely slipped her notice.

And yet she was fond of him now – against her own will and better judgement.

He was incredibly handsome, there was no denying that, and there was something in his manner, dark and brooding as it was, that she had found strangely attractive from the beginning.

But it was more than that. After their initial quarrels, they had grown used to each other's company, and over time, she had come to care for him.

She would not have gone so far as to call him a friend. A friendship with one's employer was not something that was considered at all suitable for a woman in her position, and thus they had both always kept a certain polite distance.

They had rarely ever spoken of truly personal matters and the idea of him having formed any sort of attachment to her still distressed her beyond words.

He would never marry her. She was working for him and such a connection would reflect terribly on them both. Margaret did not wish to ponder even for a moment what people would say.

No, such a thing was entirely out of the question. But the mere thought of a proposal, however unlikely it was, had shifted something inside her in a very uncomfortable way.

It was not so much fear that any such offer would be made, it was a strange, unwanted longing that he would ask her, all the while knowing that she would have to decline.

The thought shook her in a way she had seldomly experienced.

Margaret stopped pacing, trying to force her breathing to calm down. She was not being sensible. There was no evidence to suggest that he even cared about her. It was all just a stupid rumour, the chatter of silly servant girls.

But it was this rumour, paired with Bessy's words, that had, at once, opened her unwilling eyes to the truth: that she felt more for this man than she was allowed to.

And now Margaret knew that whatever happened, she would lose.

..ooOOoo..

That evening, Margaret did not join Mr Thornton and Emma in the drawing room after dinner. She stayed in her room until it was time to take the girl to bed, and then it took all her willpower to make her way to the drawing room to collect her.

When she entered, she kept her head down, unable to meet Mr Thornton's gaze, who was looking over at her from where he sat in his chair by the fire.

Emma quickly went to her, and as Margaret tried to leave the room without saying anything, he called after her:

"Miss Hale?"

"Yes, sir?"

"If you are not too tired, would you mind joining me for a cup of tea after Emma has gone to bed?"

There was a painful knot somewhere near her stomach that made it hard to breathe.

"I'm afraid I am suffering from a bit of a headache tonight, Mr Thornton. I think I should retire."

"You're ill?"

There was concern in his voice, which infinitely worsened her despair.

"Is there anything you need? I can call for the doctor if - "

She did turn around to him then, to find him looking at her with such worry, it threatened to break her.

"I thank you, Mr Thornton, it is not so bad. I am sure with a bit of rest I shall be fully recovered by tomorrow."

He frowned a little, trying to assess whether she was speaking the truth.

"If there is anything you need, please do not hesitate to ring the bell," he then told her in a somewhat grave tone.

Margaret only nodded, then turned from him rapidly and put her hand on Emma's shoulder to lead her from the room.