Mr. Thornton's astonishment only grew as the Hales explained to him their reasons for concealing Frederick. In such a situation, he could not blame them for their secrecy, for Frederick Hale's presence in the country was a great risk. He was lucky to have not excited suspicion thus far; it could only be hoped such luck would hold. Knowing the danger he and his family were in, Mr. Thornton's appreciation and admiration for Margaret increased. She had gone against her family's wishes, all so he could know about her brother. She put her faith and trust in him. How much greater and stronger was his resolve to not fail in light of her actions.
She had been only slightly delayed in entering the drawing room, and he could very well guess why. He had not looked closely at Dixon as he passed her, but one did not have to be a keen observer to see that she looked thunderous. He could well imagine the indignant words she would use on Margaret, but he also knew that Margaret would be able to withstand her. Sure enough, Margaret's face was serene when she appeared, and she gave him another soft smile as she sat.
The narrative had been chiefly conducted by Frederick, and that being concluded, Mr. Thornton felt it necessary to speak. "I can understand your reluctance to confide in anybody your presence here, Mr. Hale, but I assure you that your family's faith in me is well-founded. I would not willingly injure them, and I give you my word you are safe as far as I am concerned."
"Thank you. I hope you will forgive me if I admit I am still unsure of you," Frederick responded candidly. "I know nothing of you or what your word means. I can only rely on what my family believes."
"Mr. Thornton is truly a man of his word, Fred," Margaret spoke up, a dangerous flash in her eyes. "He is an honorable man and would never speak falsely. It is not what we merely believe; it is what we know. If he says you are safe with him, it is so. If you do not trust his word, trust mine. He is a kind friend to us, and will not betray you. You should not doubt him."
Mr. Hale corroborated his daughter's defense, though not so zealously. Mr. Thornton, however, did not hear whatever it was he said, his breast alight with fiery pleasure that Margaret would speak for him so passionately. A smile came to his lips that he could not banish as he said, "I assure you that your sister speaks the truth about me. I would not lie to any man, and I have no reason to lie to you, Mr. Hale. You yourself give me no pause, and I respect your family too much to dishonor their trust by giving you up."
Frederick Hale seemed to only scrutinize him further, still looking for any hint of duplicity, but apparently he did not find it. He sighed and relaxed into his chair. "Very well, Mr. Thornton. I believe you. And even if I did not, I have a feeling my sister would strike me into what she must see as sense." He paused. "But maybe she would not dare at such a time, considering what has brought me here."
It was only now that the tension of Frederick's discovery had gone, that they were reminded of the sorrowful event that drew them together. Having had little chance to give his condolences before Margaret had thrust her brother upon him, Mr. Thornton now expressed fully his sympathy to the Hales. Mr. Hale's despondency returned, and Mr. Thornton felt called upon to move closer and engage him in more personal conversation, rather than speaking to the family in general. As he did so, however, he stole a few glances in Margaret's direction. She at least had a brother to help her, but he was just as desirous as ever to give her his comfort and strength, as he had when she cried over her friend.
She spoke quietly with her brother, and Mr. Thornton now saw the traces of lines under her eyes and a heaviness to her eyelids, evidence of the little rest she must have had lately. Now the memory of her mother's body had returned, she looked overburdened and forlorn, despite the smiles she gave her brother. Did her family know of all she suffered in this bitter loss? Or was she called upon once more to be the comforter when she was in need of it herself? He suspected that she had been given more to bear than she reasonably should, and he hoped and wished for an opportunity to take her burden away, to grant her some relief and comfort, and to cradle her in his love.
The story of Frederick Hale had taken up so much unexpected time, that Mr. Thornton was obliged to leave much sooner in the midst of his conversation with Mr. Hale than he had previously foreseen. But he needed to return to Marlborough Mills, so he rose from his chair reluctantly, but with a promise to soon return.
"Yes, please do, John," Mr. Hale urged. "Especially as you now know about Frederick, you are most welcome. We could not risk having visitors before, but now that Margaret . . ." he trailed off, shaking his head in wonder at his daughter's behavior. "Well, however it happened, you know. And any time you can spare would be a comfort." His voice began to quake and tremble, and Mr. Thornton gently took his hand and quietly offered what sympathy and services he could.
With Frederick Hale, he only exchanged a nod and a courteous handshake, but Margaret did not appear to be content with similar brevity of farewell. She offered to see him to the door, a pleasure he was not likely to forego.
As they walked down the stairs, she spoke quietly. "I apologize for springing Fred on you so awkwardly, but I felt I must seize what little chance I had. I knew you were here, and I had to act quickly."
"I understand," he assured her when they reached the door. "Especially if you agreed to keep him secret, there could not have been a way to reveal him that would not have been awkward."
She smiled. "That is true. But I wanted you to know. I did not want to lie to you."
"If you had kept him secret, I would perhaps have understood."
"Perhaps. But I did not want to take the chance. I did not want to put you in such a position."
Once more, evidence of her weariness and toil was obvious to him. He stepped closer to her and took her hand tenderly. "Margaret," he whispered. "Is there anything I may do for you? Anything at all? I do not want you to suffer alone."
Her eyes filled with tears at his sudden consideration. Was this not precisely what she had been craving? And had she not guessed that he would be the one to sustain her? "I am not entirely alone," she managed, a tear escaping down her cheek.
He was quick to catch it with his thumb, and kept his hand in place, caressing her face. "No, but you must remember that there is one who asks nothing from you, who only wants to give you comfort. Whatever I can do, I will."
The desire to enfold herself in his arms was overwhelming, but they were not truly alone as yet. Dixon could come bustling out of the kitchen now, or Frederick could appear at the landing any moment. Another time would have to suffice. For now, she brought her hand to his.
"Just come again soon," she said simply. "Quickly."
He nodded. "Tonight. I promise."
Too soon he was gone, but Margaret's hand still felt the lingering warmth of his lips long after he had left.
Peace having been restored to the house, Mr. Hale returned to his wife's side, seeking strength from the holy words he knew so well. Margaret sought out Dixon, her farewell from Mr. Thornton having increased her charity, and offered a penitent apology that did much to alleviate Dixon's indignation. She had not dared to leave the house while Mr. Thornton remained, curious as she was of how he would accept such a tale. She also was in need of reassurance that the rest of the family was not overtaxed by Margaret's decision, and she was comforted when Frederick appeared to give her the assurance she required.
"Well, I suppose the damage is done, and there is no sense regretting what might have been, but I will never understand what possessed you to do such a thing, Miss," she declared, bustling her way out of the kitchen. No matter how trustworthy Mr. Thornton may be, she would not budge from her perch at the front door. She did not want to take any chances that Miss Margaret would extend her new-found openness to anybody else who might call. As Miss Margaret herself said, Dixon was determined to keep the door like a dragon.
Frederick followed Margaret up the stairs silently, a pensive and thoughtful purse on his lips. What had possessed Margaret, indeed? If her rash behavior was not already enough to excite suspicion, her passionate defense of Mr. Thornton was enough to make Frederick think there was more to the man than Margaret was letting on. She was settling herself into a chair when he spoke.
"Well, Margaret, I find myself wondering the same thing as Dixon." She looked up straightaway, her eyebrows knit in confusion. "Meaning what possessed you to reveal me to Mr. Thornton. I cannot account for it. What makes him so different from any other acquaintance?"
His needling words were to great effect. She blushed deeply and averted her eyes. "He is a kind friend, Fred, and has been very good to us."
"Yes, so you said," he said airily. "And is that all he is? A kind friend?"
Margaret could not pretend to misunderstand her brother's insinuations, and from the heat she felt in her cheeks and neck, she was sure her red face gave her away. There was no point in denying her feelings, and after all, honesty was a quality she was forcing upon herself today.
"No, Fred, that is not all he is. Not to me, anyway," she admitted quietly.
"I thought not." He took the chair next to her, clearly desirous of continuing the subject. "And how long has this been going on?"
She gave him an exasperated look. "Fred, really."
"Well, why not? I told you about Dolores; why not speak to me about Mr. Thornton?"
She hesitated. "It is different for you. You and Dolores are engaged, plans are in motion. You have even converted! Mr. Thornton and I are not . . . we have no such formal understanding as yet."
"And that is why I've never heard of him before this morning, is it?"
"Father never mentioned him in any letters? He is very fond of him." This did truly confuse her.
"Not that I can recall, but Father's letters have not been so prolific since you came to Milton. Likely he has been afraid to remind me of his dissenting and of the upheaval he put you and Mother through. Not that his dissenting matters now, what with my being in Spain and taking on another religion myself."
She nodded in assent.
"But never mind that now. You say you have no formal understanding with Mr. Thornton, but you took the risk of letting him know about me. You must expect something, and soon, or you would not have done such a thing. You must feel strongly for him."
Her flush returned, but she could not hide a smile. "Yes, I do. I do expect that we will be . . . engaged . . . soon." She paused over the tender word, unused as she was to speaking openly of the subject. "But I have not been able yet to tell him. What with Mama and your coming."
"You need to tell him?" Frederick sat back. "Are you going to be the one to propose, then?"
She laughed softly. "No, Fred, no. Mr. Thornton . . . has already declared himself. He proposed some time ago," she admitted shyly.
Frederick shot forward. "What? When?"
"Several weeks ago."
"And you gave him no answer then?" he asked incredulously. "Poor man. He's been waiting for your word for several weeks?"
"I was unsure of myself, Fred!" How quickly his sympathy was given to a near stranger rather than her. "Would you have me marry a man I did not love?"
"There is no need for you to get snippy with me, Margaret," he placated. "I just could not imagine how much of a torture it would have been for me to wait several weeks for Dolores's answer."
"Well, she probably knew right away she loved you," she replied, only a little mollified.
"But you love Mr. Thornton now, don't you?" he asked softly, a smirk on his face. "You are sure."
"Yes, I am. I do love him, Fred. I know that now. He is a good man, and I think you would like him if given the chance. He is different from us, not so cheerful or openly friendly, but he is true and sincere. He –"
Frederick held up a hand to stop her. "Please, Margaret, you do not need to name all of his worthy qualities. I am sure I will have a little chance to know him before I leave. I only wish you had such a chance with Dolores."
"Perhaps some day we will meet," Margaret said hopefully.
"Yes." He smiled mischievously. "Your Mr. Thornton will have to bring you over to Cadiz." His purpose was accomplished; she blushed again. "At least now I understand better why you exposed me to him. I'm not sure I would have forgiven you if your behavior was for only a kind friend."
Mr. Thornton resumed his work like a man possessed. He had only expected to visit the Hales once today, and planned to dedicate extra time to the mill to make up for his absence. But with his promise to Margaret, he was eager to finish his various duties quickly so he could get back to her as soon as possible. He was so absorbed in his work he did not notice his mother entering the office. She had to clear her throat rather forcefully to distract him from the papers in front of him.
"Mother!" he said in some surprise. "Forgive me; I did not see you come in."
"I gathered that," she said drily. "I saw you had returned. How are the Hales faring?"
"As well as can be expected. Mr. Hale is very low, of course. Mar- Miss Hale bears up better than likely."
Mrs. Thornton was not ignorant of the habit her son had fallen into of referring to Miss Hale by her first name; however, she was growing weary of his constant correction of how he referred to her. Of course, it would not be at all proper for him to openly call her "Margaret", but the stutter only served as a reminder to Mrs. Thornton that her son was still awaiting any answer from the girl. She sniffed at the habit and went on. "I suppose she has been prepared for some time for this."
"Yes. But that is not to say she does not suffer. She bears up for her father's sake," he responded shortly. He would need to be careful to not say too much, for fear he might give something away of her brother.
"It is regrettable that she has so few relations and friends to help her," Mrs. Thornton said in a brief burst of sympathy.
"Yes. That is why I will return there tonight."
Her sympathy vanished in her surprise. "Tonight! John, you have no need to put yourself out so, and the Hales must have some privacy."
He sighed. "Mother, I gave my word. To both Mr. and Miss Hale. They expect me. I want to do what I can for them. I do not want to leave them alone."
"You mean you do not want to leave her alone," she muttered.
No matter how low she spoke, he heard her clearly, and bristled at the remark. "And what is surprising about that? I have told you already of my feelings for her. Why should I not wish to console her?"
She gave him a hard look. "I am only concerned for you, John. I know that you think her worthy, but I question why she gives you no answer. How much longer will she keep you like a puppet on a string?"
He fought for control. "I am no puppet, Mother. I would not allow myself to be, and she does not play such a game with me. I will wait as long as is necessary for her. You still give her far too little credit."
"Perhaps so, but I cannot see how I can give her more. I hardly know her."
"Then maybe it would do you both good for you to visit her," he said hastily. "You can know her better, and she will not be so alone and friendless at this difficult time."
"You cannot be serious, John!" she exclaimed, taken aback at such a suggestion.
He stood quickly. "And why should I not be? She does need kindness from her neighbors, and you are as suitable as any woman in Milton to condole with her. More so than any other woman, even! I will marry Margaret, no matter when she does accept me, and you may as well accept it and make an effort to know her. She deserves that chance from you, Mother, and I am tired of arguing with you about her." He did not raise his voice, but his firm determination was enough to cow even Mrs. Thornton. She said nothing as he excused himself and left the office.