"Is everything settled with the Latimers?"
As Mrs. Thornton entered the parlor, John glanced up from the newspaper he had been pretending to read. In truth, his mind was unable to focus on the page. His thoughts kept returning to a certain woman, with wide blue-grey eyes and creamy skin, and chestnut curls that brushed her forehead…
John forced himself to attend to his mother's words. The Latimers. He had thought remarkably little about the Latimers this morning. His mind had been much more pleasantly engaged.
"It is settled. Latimer will not be investing in Marlborough Mills."
"Not investing?" Mrs. Thornton's tone was clearly displeased. "I thought it was all arranged. Was his offer not clear?"
"You know the terms of Latimer's offer, Mother. And I cannot do it." Laying down the paper, he stood and crossed to the window.
"John! But you could reopen the mill with his investment." She sighed with frustration. "A man your age should be married. Miss Latimer is unobjectionable. I thought you had decided. And now you cannot? What has changed?"
What had changed? How could John tell her that his whole world had changed? That the heart he had believed untouchable suddenly beat for only one woman? "Mother, I cannot marry Miss Latimer, and that is final. I do not wish to discuss it any further."
Mrs. Thornton turned away in a huff and stood staring into the fireplace. John sighed and walked over to her. "Mother, you need not worry. I will make arrangements for us. I will find a position. I will always provide for you."
"Oh, you know I am not worried for myself." She turned and faced him. "I want it for you, John. You deserve so much better. Marlborough Mills should be yours. You've labored so hard for it. And, John–" Her eyes turned soft. "I just don't understand… You deserve a wife, a family of your own. You would make a good father." She blinked and he could see moisture in her eyes before she turned away from him.
John put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her back to him. "Thank you, Mother." Unable to say more, he held her for a few moments.
"Well, John, I will trust you have good reason for your decision." Mrs. Thornton pulled away and hastily dabbed at her eyes. "You've always done the right thing, a good and dependable son. I'll try not to question you now." Even though I want to, her tone seemed to say.
John smiled fondly at her. "Thank you, Mother."
They were interrupted by the entrance of a maid. "Miss Hale to see you, sir."
"Miss Hale?" Mrs. Thornton turned questioning eyes back to John. "Who is Miss Hale?"
Margaret's entrance was a breath of fresh air into the stuffy parlor. She looked just as beautiful as yesterday, simply dressed in a white blouse and dark blue skirt. He stepped forward to greet her. "Miss Hale." He sensed his mother stiffen beside him as he took Margaret's hand.
"Mr. Thornton." She smiled. John thought that he detected a blush on her cheeks as she said his name.
He turned and gestured beside him. "Miss Hale, this is my mother, Mrs. Thornton. Mother, Miss Hale is Mr. Bell's heiress, and the new owner of Marlborough Mills."
Mrs. Thornton's eyes widened as she took in the identity of the lovely young woman. "Miss Hale," she nodded politely.
John could sense the wariness in his mother as they seated themselves and tea was served. She was never comfortable with strangers, even when she wasn't worried that the stranger had come to turn them all out of the house.
"Are you staying in Milton long, Miss Hale?" Mrs. Thornton's attempt to determine Margaret's plans for the mill was obvious to John.
"Yes, I am residing here now. I have a home in Crampton."
Mrs. Thornton's eyebrows flickered. "Indeed. You plan to stay here permanently?"
"Oh that reminds me, Miss Hale." John hoped his news would please her. "I have found you a maid. She is here and is eager to be of service. She can accompany you home today." At this revelation, John saw his mother turn sharply towards him with a now suspicious expression.
"Oh, that is wonderful! Mr. Taylor believes he has located a cook, so I will soon be well provided for." Margaret beamed warmly at him. John could not prevent himself from mirroring her expression as he gazed back at her, gratified to have helped her in some way. He was aware of his mother's keen eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them.
"Mr. Thornton–" Margaret set down her teacup. "The reason I called today… I have a business proposition for you."
"A business proposition?" So now he would know what she required of him. She might offer him a position as a temporary advisor, or overseer. Or perhaps she had changed her mind about selling, and needed assistance with finding a buyer for the mill. "Yes, Miss Hale?"
"You see–" Margaret glanced downwards, looking a little embarrassed. "Well, besides the mill, Mr. Bell left me a good deal of money. Much more than I need. And I spoke with Mr. Taylor about it last night, it is really making very little in interest at the moment. And… I want Marlborough Mills to open again." She looked directly at John. "I have some fifteen thousand pounds, which I would like you to take, Mr. Thornton, to reopen the mill."
John stared at her, uncomprehending. What had she just said? She wanted to give fifteen thousand pounds to him? She wanted him to reopen Marlborough Mills? Surely there was some mistake. He could not have heard her correctly.
"Miss Hale–" John cleared his throat. "I'm not sure I understand. What are you saying?"
"I wish for Marlborough Mills to reopen. I want it to once again provide work for so many people. I wish to invest in your mill, Mr. Thornton." She smiled at him. "After all, it is now my mill, too."
John still could not believe what he was hearing. He tried to find some meaning in her words. He knew he'd been silent too long. His mind tried to form a suitable response, but none came.
Eventually his mother's voice broke through his mental fog. "Close your mouth, John. Miss Hale, may I pour you some fresh tea?"
John stared down at the mill yard from the parlor window. Margaret was walking with Rebecca, and the pair were chatting like old friends. Margaret had been delighted to make the acquaintance of the young maid. Even before leaving the parlor, Margaret had learned that the girl preferred to be called Becky, and that she sent money every month to her mother, a widow with three younger children.
His mother approached and stood next to him at the window. "So this is why you did not want Latimer's money."
John glanced at her and shook his head. "No, I had no idea Miss Hale would offer to invest in the mill."
"I realize that, John." She looked back at him. "But I suspect Miss Hale herself makes an arrangement with the Latimers undesirable."
John immediately flushed and turned his head away, but could not deny his mother's claim. "I only met Miss Hale yesterday."
"Hmm, yes." Her eyes followed Margaret, who had just said something that had caused Becky to start giggling merrily. "But I would say she is already well impressed by you."
After a stunned moment, John turned to ask his mother her meaning, but she was already strolling out of the room.
Margaret smiled at John as he crossed the mill yard. "Why don't you go fetch your things, Becky?" She turned and addressed the girl. "We'll head back to Crampton soon. I hope you will like your new home."
"Oh, I know I will. Thank you so much, Miss Margaret. Sir." She bobbed quick curtseys to them both and hurried back to the house.
"Miss Hale…"John had tried to compose himself before approaching her, but found he was still flustered in her presence. The way the curls around her face waved in the breeze was distinctly distracting. "Miss Hale, I am honored by your offer."
"It is merely a business proposition, Mr. Thornton. Remember, I stand to benefit as much as you."
"But, Miss Hale–" He sighed. "I'm not sure you understand… You don't need me to reopen Marlborough Mills. In fact, you would be better off without me. The mill closed under my management. I am a failed master. All of Milton knows. My name is now a liability." His hands clenched at his sides. "I do not wish the mill, or yourself, to be tainted by association with me."
"Mr. Thornton…" She stepped closer to him. "I do not believe that at all. I know you were an excellent master. The closing of the mill was not your fault. Mr. Bell was adamant about that. He and Mr. Taylor had nothing but praise of you, your abilities and principles. Even Becky is thoroughly in awe of you, and very grateful for finding her a position."
John looked down at this, embarrassed. "Miss Hale–"
"I've talked to workers, too. They say you are fair and honest. I even heard about the wheel you installed, to remove cotton from the air. And–" She glanced away and blushed. "They also know you are to be trusted, that… that women need not fear to work for you."
John stood staring at her, at a complete loss for words. She took another step closer to him. "Mr. Thornton, I want you to run Marlborough Mills. You, and no one else. Will you?"
Those bewitching eyes peered into his own. Unworthy as he felt himself, he was unable to deny her anything. "If you wish it, Miss Hale."
"I do." A radiant smile slowly spread across her face. "Thank you, Mr. Thornton." She held out her hand to shake. He gently grasped it, once more feeling the electric warmth of their connection. "I will have Mr. Taylor prepare the papers."
John nodded, not removing his eyes from hers. Her cheeks flushed as she slowly drew her hand from his grasp. "Shall I call here again tomorrow, then?" She smiled. "We will have much to discuss."
"I greatly look forward to it, Miss Hale."
"As do I." Her manner suddenly seemed to become rather bashful. She turned and walked toward Becky, who waited quietly at the gate. Before leaving, she paused a moment, and gave a last look back at John. She gave a quick little smile, then hurried away.
John did not know how long he stood without moving in the yard, staring at nothing.
Margaret made the brief journey back to Marlborough Mills shortly after breakfast the next morning. She was able to find her way more easily now, and the streets of Milton had begun to seem familiar to her. She even recognized several acquaintances, and greeted them as she made her way through the streets.
She clutched the small satchel carrying Mr. Taylor's documents tightly in her hand. She was feeling excited to begin the process of opening the mill. She imagined what the mill would be like when back in operation. So many people, so much activity… She smiled to herself. How could she have imagined, even a week ago, that she, Margaret Hale, would be opening a mill! She was soon to be a manufacturer! A small giggle suddenly burst from her. She clapped a hand over her mouth, and looked around bashfully to see if anyone had heard her.
Margaret Hale – a manufacturer! Imagine what Edith would think. Her spirits sagged a bit at the thought of her cousin and the friendship they had once shared.
What must Edith be thinking now? In the letter she had left in the bedroom in Harley Street, Margaret had written that she was going to visit Dixon in Helstone. She wondered how long it would take Edith and Maxwell to discover her ruse. When they did, would Edith be worried for Margaret? Or merely angry?
Now that she was here in Milton, her stealthy escape from Harley Street seemed rather childish and cowardly. Perhaps she should have been honest and just told Edith she was leaving for Milton. What could they have done? They could not have truly forced her to marry Henry, could they? Maybe she should write to Edith now and let her know where she was.
Thoughts of London drifted from her mind as she approached the gate of Marlborough Mills. A nervous flutter formed in her stomach that had nothing to do with the mill, but rather with the tall, dashing man who resided within.
Stepping into the yard, she pondered whether she should call at the house, or try the mill first. Before she could decide, she saw John crossing the yard from the mill entrance.
"I saw you come in, Miss Hale." His long strides brought him to her quickly. He gave her a small but eager smile. "I was watching for you."
Margaret's heart beat faster as she gazed back into those intense blue eyes. She was unable to reply for a moment, feeling a bit stunned once again at her reaction to him. She had never felt a great deal of attraction to any man before. Maxwell was handsome, or at least Edith had always thought so. But after getting to know him, Margaret could no longer see anything pleasing in him.
But this man – John Thornton – somehow became more magnetic each time she saw him. Everything she learned about him, every moment in his presence, merely added to his appeal.
Fleetingly, Margaret recalled an old acquaintance, a village girl from Helstone. The young woman had been compelled to leave town for several months, to visit a "sick aunt". Most people in town were aware that the butcher's overly charming son was the real reason for her departure. Margaret had struggled to comprehend how her friend could have allowed herself to end up in such a predicament. Standing this close to John Thornton, for the first time, Margaret thought she might be able to understand.
"Good morning, Mr. Thornton." She imagined her smile looked a little foolish. "I brought the papers for you to sign."
"I thank you, Miss Hale." He glanced down, looking uncertain. "I don't think I expressed to you properly yesterday… I don't even know how…" He shook his head slightly. "I cannot begin to tell you of my gratitude, to entrust me so…" He looked back up at her. "I do not think you know what it means to me. To be able to reopen the mill…" He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't even know what to say."
"It's all right, Mr. Thornton." She was eager to reassure him. She did not want him to feel indebted to her. "You don't have to say anything. Mr. Bell's gifts to me, of the mill, my own home, and coming to Milton… This has all been an opportunity for me as well. For… for a new start."
"Did you need such a new start?" He stepped forward, his expression suddenly concerned. Margaret's throat tightened.
"It was difficult, losing my father and mother. And these last several months, living in my cousin's home… It has not been a comfortable place to be."
John's brow furrowed. It seemed as if he might ask her meaning, but then he appeared to change his mind. "I am glad you are here now in Milton, Miss Hale."
"As am I." She smiled. "Shall we sign the papers?"
Margaret was impressed by John's thorough examination of the loan forms. He clearly understood all of the legal terminology that had thoroughly befuddled her. As much as she trusted Mr. Taylor, the fact that John approved of the documents and the terms made her feel even more certain about her decision.
"Well, now, that is done." Margaret busied herself with arranging her copies of the papers into her satchel. "So what is our first step to reopen the mill?"
"Our first step?" John gave her a confused look. "Miss Hale, do not worry, you need not concern yourself with anything else. It is my job to do the work necessary to get the mill back into operation. I will handle everything."
"But, Mr. Thornton–" Margaret pulled herself upright. "Marlborough Mills is my mill now, too. I want to help you open it again."
John continued to stare at her, silent, his expression bewildered. His face looked so adorably confused, Margaret had the sudden urge to kiss him. She was so startled by this completely new and strange thought that she turned sharply away and began fiddling with her satchel again, cheeks flushing.
"You wish to help me with the mill?"
Margaret did not turn back to look at him. "If you do not wish me to…" Perhaps it was improper of her to offer such a thing. Did Mr. Thornton think her unladylike? He might resent her intrusion into his business. After all, he was leasing the mill from her. He was free to run the mill as he saw fit. "Forgive me. I should not have asked such a thing. It is your mill."
"No, you mistake me, Miss Hale. It is not that I do not wish–" He ran his hand through his hair again, and Margaret was once more startled by how endearing she found the gesture. "I suppose I do not understand why you would want to help with the mill. A lady such as yourself…"
"No, of course, Mr. Thornton. I suppose it would not be very respectable. I should not have suggested it."
"Miss Hale–" He stepped forward and clasped her hand. The warmth of his touch startled her and her eyes were instantly pulled to his. "That is not what I meant, and I should not have implied that. There is nothing degrading in my eyes about a woman working, in a mill or anywhere else." He smiled wryly. "My mother often helped with the mill, my workers were well used to seeing her. I just did not think you would want to do such a thing. You do not have to, you know."
"I know, Mr. Thornton." She was finding it very hard to think, so close to him, feeling his hand in hers. "I should like to, though. I would very much like to be a part of it."
John stood for some moments without releasing her hand. "If you truly wish it, I would be honored to have your assistance, Miss Hale."
She smiled. "Then where should we start?"
Margaret felt a little bereft when John released her hand, but found some consolation that he seemed reluctant to do so.
John considered. "We will need to begin gathering workers. I had thought of going down to the Princeton district and talking to some of my former employees, to determine who will come back to Marlborough Mills." He looked a little uncomfortable. "I don't know if you would care to accompany me… It is not the nicest part of town, Miss Hale."
"I am not afraid of going amongst the poor, Mr. Thornton. I am a parson's daughter, after all." She adjusted her hat and gently took his arm. "Shall we go now?"
As eager as she was to see a new part of Milton, Margaret wasn't noticing a great deal of the scenery around her. She was paying more attention to the man at her side, and the warmth of his arm under her hand. She noticed he was careful to match his long strides to her shorter ones.
They did not speak for a while. She felt a little shy suddenly, and she struggled to come up with anything to say. She saw him start to open his mouth a few times, and then close it again. Was he also feeling tongue-tied around her? The idea that she might make John Thornton nervous made her giggle, which she then disguised with a cough.
As they got farther from the mill, Margaret's attention was pulled more to their surroundings. The homes were becoming shabbier and more run-down. The clothing on many of the people milling about looked almost threadbare. Sounds of babies' cries hung in the air. Rather than playing in the streets, the children here sat huddled in groups, staring back at her with hungry eyes. The sense of bleak desperation was almost tangible.
A bedraggled little girl stepped up to her and held up her hand. "Please, miss?" Margaret stopped and regarded the girl. Skinny arms and legs protruded from a tattered dress that was far too small.
Margaret placed a hand delicately on the girl's hollow cheek. "Have you eaten anything today?" When the little girl shook her head, Margaret pulled some coins from her pocket and put them in the child's hand. The girl gave a grateful nod and dashed away.
Margaret turned back to John. He was contemplating her with a look she could not interpret. She looked away, feeling her cheeks flush. Did he think her foolish to give money to a beggar child? Edith had always derided Margaret for such actions.
Eyes cast down, Margaret took John's offered arm. Instead of moving, he placed his own hand over hers. She looked up at him and was astonished at the tender expression she saw there. He did not speak, but pressed her hand lightly for a moment while gazing at her. Removing his hand, he then turned forward and they resumed their walk.
Another block down, the streets became even more crowded. Margaret noticed that many people here seemed to recognize John. He gave several of them nods of greeting as they passed.
They arrived at a rather seedy looking pub, outside of which a number of men congregated. A sign above the door sported a faded image of a gold dragon. "We'll likely find some of my workers here. Aye, there is one. "Fletcher–" When John called out, one of the men in the group broke off and approached them. "Fletcher, how are you?"
"Well enough, sir." The man seemed bewildered at encountering John Thornton in the Princeton neighborhood. "Money's been tough, o' course. I hasn't found any new work yet." He stole frequent glances at Margaret while he talked.
"That's why I'm here, Fletcher. Marlborough Mills is reopening. I'll rehire any of my workers, those that haven't found another position. And I'll need some new workers to replace those that have."
Fletcher's expression transformed from surprise to utter astonishment. "Reopening Marlborough Mills! Why, that's wonderful news!"
"Can you spread the word, Fletcher? Let everyone know. All workers in need of a job report Wednesday at noon. I hope to open the mill in around a fortnight."
"Aye, sir, I'll let 'em all know. You can count on me. Marlborough Mills open again! 'Tis a good day." The man's smile lit up his face. "Thank you, thank you, sir."
John looked uncomfortable with the man's gratitude. "No need to thank me. You'll all be putting in the work for it."
The man nodded happily again, and then turned back to his friends to share the news. Margaret's attention was caught by another man who had just emerged from the pub.
"Oh, Nicholas!" She hurried over to him. "Nicholas, I'm so glad to see you again."
"Miss Margaret," He clasped her offered hand. "Surprised to see you 'ere. Is anything wrong?" His eyes focused behind Margaret, and his friendly expression vanished.
Margaret turned to see John approaching with a grim look on his face. His eyes traveled from Nicholas to Margaret, and his mouth tightened even further.
Noticing the tension between the two men, Margaret decided to take charge of the situation. "Mr. Thornton–" She reached out to him. He stilled and his eyes glanced down to where her hand rested lightly on his arm.
"Mr. Thornton, this is Nicholas Higgins. I met him on my first day here at Milton. I also met little Tommy, one of the children he is caring for after their parents died. He very kindly helped me find my way to Marlborough Mills." She gave John a reassuring smile, and then turned back to Nicholas. "Nicholas, Mr. Thornton is reopening Marlborough Mills. He is looking for workers." She turned back and looked at John, the question left unspoken in the air.
John regarded Margaret for a moment, then returned his eyes warily to Nicholas, who was now wearing a rather sullen expression. "You are caring for orphans?"
"Aye. Boucher's children. His wife got sick and passed after he drowned his'self."
John's expression turned dark. "Aye, I heard about Boucher." He looked down for a moment. "I didn't know about his wife."
He looked thoughtfully back up at Nicholas. "How many children are there?"
"Six, plus I have my Mary o' course. She's a good girl, cares for 'em all like a mother." He stuck his chin up. "Better than their own did, I'd say."
John contemplated him for a few moments. "Have you work?"
Nicholas glanced away. "Nay, I think you know why."
John gave a small nod. "I'll tolerate no mischief or disrespect. I pay a fair wage and you can take it or leave it."
Nicholas looked back in surprise. "Are you offerin' me a job?"
"If you want it. I need hard workers." He glanced at Margaret. "And if you've managed to win Miss Hale's friendship so soon, I suppose I should give you a chance."
Nicholas's eyes lit up. "Thank you, sir. I'm a good worker, you won't regret it."
"Wednesday at noon." John gave a firm nod. "Don't be late."
Returning from Princeton, John showed Margaret a shorter route back to her home in Crampton. For most of the journey they walked silently, each lost in their own thoughts. Margaret could not help dwelling on the suffering she had seen. The eyes of that little girl haunted her.
Arriving at her home, John escorted her to her front steps. She abruptly turned and faced him. "Those children – those people – they were so hungry." Her sudden words seemed to startle him. She shook her head in dismay. "Imagine little children, not having enough to eat!" To her embarrassment, she began to feel tears gathering in her eyes. She turned away from him. "Oh, forgive me. It just seems so wrong."
"Miss Hale–" She felt his hand grasp her own. "Your compassion is nothing to be forgiven." She looked up at him, and saw his eyes regarding her tenderly. "I do not think many ladies of Milton would care so deeply about their pain."
Margaret sighed and glanced away. "Once again I am displaying unladylike behavior–"
"No." John stepped closer and Margaret realized that her hand now rested in both of his. "What I mean is… I do not know or care if your behavior would be considered ladylike. I have seen nothing wrong or improper in your actions. What I have seen..." Margaret felt his thumb gently caressing her hand. "I have seen incredible grace and kindness, an empathy for others that is very rare. I believe you have a very loving heart, Miss Hale." He opened his mouth as if to say more, then closed it, his cheeks flushing slightly.
Margaret felt frozen, unable to speak or look away from those riveting blue eyes. After a few moments, John squeezed her hand gently, and then released it. "I would be happy for your help at the mill, Miss Hale, any day that you would like. You are always welcome." He gave her a small smile, his eyes never leaving her face. He then turned back and walked back in the direction of Marlborough Mills.
Margaret stepped into the house with her head in a fog. Her feelings were a jumble, but she could no longer deny the most prominent emotion. Margaret had never before been in love – and oh, it was much too soon, was it not – but surely she was falling in love with Mr. Thornton.
The way he made her heart beat so fast, the way she seemed to melt at his touch… She felt that she could gaze into his eyes forever. Oh, I am becoming just as silly as Edith. But no, surely this was different. She was not just mooning over a handsome man, was she? For there was more to John Thornton, so much more. Everything she had learned about the man spoke of a man of extraordinary character and strength.
And maybe – could he possibly feel something for her, too? His words just now – Margaret felt a thrill go through her when she thought of them. And there was something in his eyes, as if he'd wanted to say more… He had told her she had a loving heart. Little did he know, that heart was already his own.