A/N: Really, I'm trying to keep author's notes to a minimum, but here's another one. This is the first chapter that I really start bringing in dialogue from the book and occasionally the movie. I've mixed it around so it's kind of hard to specify which lines are quoted and where, so don't hate me for not making that clear. I also am not going to attempt writing in Bessy and Nicholas's accents; I would utterly fail. And Bessy's characterization is not going to be influenced by the movie as much as I originally thought, but I am probably going to avoid how much she talks about death. As it is, she's not going to be featured too much in the story, anyway. (which i am kind of sad about because i love their friendship, especially in the movie. but let's face it, it's margaret and john i'm trying to move toward smooching, so naturally i'd write more about them.)
Again, thank you for your reviews. My husband also thanks you for the incredible boost in my self-esteem. :)
Margaret was shaken awake early before dawn by Dixon. She had not meant to fall asleep while attending to her mother, but it seemed that exhaustion had insisted on claiming her. She could not remember when she had given way to the pull of slumber, but she was sure it had come far more quickly than she dared to admit to Dixon.
For Dixon's part, she was ashamed she had allowed herself to sleep so long, and was using her energized vigor to severely scold herself for leaving the mistress alone. As soon as possible, she made her way into Mrs. Hale's room to find Margaret slumped in the chair, her head resting on the covers of her mother's bed. It was a wonder her weight had not awoken the mistress, Dixon thought to herself as she gently took hold of Margaret's shoulder.
When Margaret lifted her head, she heard Dixon speak in a low voice. "Now, Miss, you've had your time with the missus, now let me attend to my duties and you go about your business."
The words were perhaps a little harsh, but Margaret was too tired and sore to argue with Dixon at the moment, so she blearily made her way to her own room and bed, hoping to relieve some of the ache in her back by lying down upon her own mattress. Though still fully dressed, it was not long before Margaret had fallen back asleep.
She next awoke to a room full of light. Her aches had lessened, but she now felt stiff thanks to her state of dress. She eased her way out of her gown and stays, stretching and yawning, before availing herself of the water basin nearby. After washing her face and arms, she found she was reluctant to immediately put on another dress, but duty must come. With Dixon spending so much time with her mother, she needed to keep her father company. In addition she hoped to visit Bessy, and there was no telling how late the hour was.
Once dressed, she found her father once more in the drawing room, preparing for a lesson. After she kissed his cheek in greeting, he turned to her more fully. "Did you stay all night with your mother, Margaret? I am sure you needn't have taken the trouble. This illness will pass and besides, she does have Dixon to look after her."
"I did not want to go so long without seeing her, Father, and Dixon has been so diligent; I thought she deserved some rest."
"No doubt, no doubt. But it does seem to be a great deal of fuss. Your mother will be back with us soon."
Margaret did not have the courage to contradict her father's assertion, knowing that confirmation of the severity of her mother's condition would come to him only too soon.
"What did you and Mr. Thornton find to talk about in my absence? I do feel badly for leaving you alone with him, but Edward had need of my help. He had spoken to me about his family's situation with his sister's ill health and thought I might do some good. I was surprised to be called on last night, but as you may remember, need knows no time."
Unsure of whether Mr. Hale required an answer, Margaret wondered to herself briefly at her father's willingness to take upon worries of other families rather than his own. She was not left to wonder very long, though, as he quickly drew back to his original question. "But what did you and John speak of?"
She fought the instinct to blush as she replied, "Oh, just an amusing passage from the play Miss Thornton sent me. He was curious about any merits I found in it." She hoped she would not need to give more specific details.
"Ah, no doubt he found some humor in it, as well. I was pleased to find the house still standing after leaving you alone. I never know in what manner you two will speak to each other."
"I think you would be surprised at how well we got on last night," she said with a smile.
"Indeed. I am happy to hear it. Mr. Thornton is a good man, Margaret, and a sincere friend. I hope you may one day come to realize it. He is not all brick and cotton – he does, in fact, seem to be made of flesh and blood. You may even like him in time if you would recognize that."
"I did catch a glimpse of that last night, Father. If we continue in such a way, I do think I will be able to see him as something other than an admirable automaton."
After visiting with her father and donning her coat and hat, Margaret walked over to Frances Street in hopes that Bessy would be feeling well enough to receive a visitor. Bessy had made it clear Margaret was welcome no matter her condition, but Margaret did not wish to raise Nicholas's ire on account of his daughter being disturbed. She had the idea that he approved of her, but she was still wary of his gruff manner. When she entered the humble house, she discovered that he was at home, as well, but both he and Bessy were pleased to see her.
Despite Bessy's warm greeting, she could not hide a feeble attitude in the way she sat, prompting Margaret to inquire more warmly about her health.
"Don't you mind me, Margaret, I'm all right enough," she began, but Nicholas soon interjected.
"She's a bit weary of the strike, as few days old as it is; she doesn't like it."
"And why should I? This is the third strike I've seen."
Margaret replied, "So the strike has begun, then? I had heard rumors of it but did not know it would come so soon."
"Aye, we at Hamper's have turned out. Others are finishing the work week, but they'll soon join us. See if the masters don't come and beg us to come back at our own price." He champed down on his pipe, well pleased with the efforts being put forth by his own people.
Margaret herself was unsure of the justness of such an action as a strike, so she was not sure of the extent to which she should approve of Nicholas's actions. She had seen suffering among the poor of Milton, but was this the way to go about correcting the problem? "I admit I'm very ignorant, having not heard of a strike from where I come, but I wonder what would happen if the laborers in the South did as you did."
"What do you mean?" Nicholas seemed suspicious of Margaret's direction.
"What would become of the farms? If the field laborers turned out, the seed would not be sown, nothing gathered and harvested, and nothing to sell. If that were the case, the farmers would have nothing to give the workers the next year."
"Suppose the farmers try giving a fair rate of wage to begin with," he responded, annoyance starting to creep into his tone. Margaret recognized the warning and nearly stopped, but could not quickly think of another course her words could be taken. She continued, hoping that perhaps she could bridge some sort of understanding. She did not enjoy the sense of an impending war that the strike suggested, and would do anything she could to breach the gulf.
"Suppose they could not, even if they wished to. They must have reasons for setting the wages they do. Ask some of your masters. Surely they will give you-"
But this proposal was too much for Nicholas. "Ask the masters!" he exclaimed, his irritation now full-fledged. "You're a foreigner; you know nothing of it. They'd tell us to mind our own business, and they'd mind theirs. Never mind that their business is to keep us clemming and them in a fat profit."
Margaret, about to respond, was caught by Bessy's beseeching eye. Already made uncomfortable by her illness and the surrounding strike, she silently pleaded with Margaret to quell her father's anger. Margaret understood the plea and held up a placating hand. "As I say, I'm sure I am very ignorant of the situation here; I'm sure you do what you think is right." Bessy smiled softly and nodded in appreciation and approval.
Nicholas himself was affected by Margaret's sudden soft words, knowing also Bessy's wish for such argument to cease. He diminished his surly tone and spoke more gently to match Margaret. "I thank you for your confidence, Miss. Don't think I do this only for myself. It's just as much in the cause of others – take Boucher." At the mention of the name, he gestured to Bessy, who acknowledged the name with a nod.
"Boucher? Who is he?" Margaret asked.
Bessy answered, "Our neighbor down the way. He's got a sickly wife and more mouths to feed than he can afford." She paused before hazarding, "He'll struggle greatly living only on strike pay from union."
This innocent comment provoked Nicholas once more. "He'll not starve! He may be a poor good-for-nought, but we've money laid by! We're resolved to stand and fall together, and that includes Boucher. He'll step in line if he knows what's good for him. Let Hamper, Slickson, and Thornton go to the devil!"
"Mr. Thornton?" Margaret reacted before she knew what she was saying. "Mr. Thornton is one of the masters you're fighting against?"
"To be sure, Miss," Nicholas looked at her as though she was daft for doubting that Marlborough Mills would be included in the turn-out.
Bessy chimed in. "He's a man who will not go down without fighting, himself." She glanced over to Margaret as she said, "He can be a hard man."
"How so?" What insights and experiences could they have of this enigma of a man, she wondered.
"You ever see a bulldog?" Nicholas responded. "He's as fierce as a bulldog and will fight just as hard."
Margaret laughed at this image of Mr. Thornton. Ordinarily she might agree with Nicholas's assessment, especially having been on the opposite side of an argument with him several times. But as her mind turned to him, the image that surfaced was his smile from the previous evening as they sat by the fire. That picture would not be banished and she could not reconcile it with the likeness of a bulldog.
"Certainly he's better-looking than a bulldog," she joked, prompting a chuckle from Bessy. Even Nicholas gave a reluctant smirk, seeing that Margaret was still trying to keep the peace.
"Maybe so, but when he gets hold of an idea, he'll not let go; he'll hold fast like a dog. I'll give him this much due, Miss, he's worth fighting with. He's not like Slickson, who'll slip and cheat his way around. No, Thornton's a man of his word. He'd not deliberately deceive any man to get his own way. That's the best I can say for him."
"So he may not be as bad as the rest?" Margaret ventured with a smile.
"Not sure I'd go that far," Nicholas grunted. A semblance of calm having been restored, he left the house to give the young women a chance to visit.
Later, as Margaret walked home, she reflected on what Nicholas had said about Mr. Thornton. Undoubtedly he was a man set in his ways; she had seen that clear enough for herself. She laughed again at the comparison to the bulldog, thinking that perhaps it was a rather apt description.
But she had also been surprised at the credit Nicholas was willing to give Mr. Thornton, however grudgingly it was admitted. She could not contradict him, either, although she had never before given much thought to Mr. Thornton's integrity. As she did, however, she could not find anything wanting in that aspect of his character. She could see in him an honest man who held himself to a high standard in his conduct toward others, no matter their station. And if one of his affirmed adversaries could admit as much, she could very freely admire him for it.