"Blast!" exclaimed an irritated John Thornton after once again perusing the letter that had just arrived via express from his landlord, Mr. Adam Bell.
"What is it, John?" his mother asked, as John Thornton refolded the missive and stuffed it into his coat pocket.
"Bell is unable to leave Oxford and therefore, he won't be able to make it to Milton to renegotiate our lease agreement," the young mill master explained to his mother.
"So, go see him in Oxford," she stated as if that was the obvious conclusion.
"I most certainly will," he pointedly replied, "Unfortunately, I will have to leave when we are at a critical point in the fulfillment of an important contract."
"Surely Williams, can handle it?" was his mother's reply. It was more of a statement than a question.
"Yes," John conceded, "But with rumors brewing again of an impending strike, I wouldn't put it past the hands to take advantage of my absence."
"If you want, John, I can help keep an eye on things," she offered.
"Yes, mother," he replied, "That would be greatly appreciated. Your presence strikes fear into the hearts of many a hand." He chuckled at the thought. It was no exaggeration. The hands thought they were discrete, but on more than one occasion he overheard them referring to his mother as, 'the old dragon.' He would never reveal that nickname to her, though.
Checking the newspaper for the latest south bound train timetables, John said, "I need not be gone for long. If I leave first thing in the morning, I might just make it back late in the evening. Hopefully before anyone even realizes I've even left."
….oOo….
"Margaret!" Mr. Hale called as he walked out of his study in the quaint little parsonage in Helstone, letter in his hand, looking for his daughter.
"In here, Papa!" the young girl of sixteen replied from the drawing room where she was sitting with her mother, mending clothes for the poor members of the parish.
"Margaret, dear," her father said as he entered the room, "Mr. Bell has invited me to visit him in Oxford for a few days and I thought you might like to come with me."
"Oh, Margaret," her mother gushed, "what a treat that would be! You may get to meet some handsome young scholar!" She waggled her eyebrows. "A young barrister-to-be would make a nice husband."
The young girl blushed deeply. Edith had gone boy crazy this year, trying to match Margaret up with the brother, cousin, or best friend of every boy in whom she was interested. Now her mother was joining in. She had been hoping to escape such nonsense when she returned home to Helstone for the summer.
Her mother had started the long holiday by trying to match Margaret up with the young and handsome Mr. Gorman whom she had once met at Mr. Hume's. He came from a tradesman's family, coach makers to be precise. Unfortunately, having been raised mostly by her high society aunt, Margaret had developed a strong dislike for 'shoppy people.' When she pointed out to her mother that Aunt Shaw would never approve of Edith marrying a tradesman, Mrs. Hale soon changed her tune to match that of her well to do sister.
In the current instance, Mr. Hale, however inadvertently, came to his daughter's rescue.
"It is summertime, my love," he pointed out, and much to his wife's dismay he added, "There will be no students there now. Just crotchety old professors like Bell." The man snorted at his own joke.
"Oh, I adore Mr. Bell," declared Margaret, in defense of the elderly gentleman, "He is clever and witty and behaves much younger than his years."
"Now Margaret," admonished her mother, "Mr. Bell is single, and quite rich, but I would never approve of you marrying someone old enough to be your father!"
"Mother," replied Margaret, scandalized, "I am not thinking of marrying him, nor anyone else right now for that matter. I find him entertaining company, that is all." She had seen firsthand what marrying for wealth and status had done to her aunt and she had resolved long ago to only marry for the deepest of love.
Turning to her father she added, "I will accompany you papa, when do we leave?"
….oOo….
John entered the parlor to bid farewell to his mother. He was leaving immediately to catch the southbound train to Oxford.
His mother approached and by way of distracting herself from the tears of separation she always felt when her son went away, no matter how briefly, she made to straighten his cravat.
"Now, I know you won't be gone long, John," she began, "nor will you be attending any social events, but if you have an opportunity to look around for a suitable wife…"
"Mother," he said in frustration.
"Well, you don't seem to be interested in any of the available young ladies of Milton," she chided him, "even though I have paraded them all in front of you at least twice!"
"More like three or four times," John grumbled under his breath.
For the past three years his mother had made it her life's mission to find him a fitting partner. John supposed there were plenty of 'suitable' young ladies of his acquaintance, however, none felt suited to him. John Thornton was a man of character, of fortitude and persistence. When there was something he wanted he went after it until got it. Some people even likened him to a bulldog in his stubborn persistence. One thing he had decided long ago was that he would not settle for anything less than love in his marriage. He wanted a wife that would love him for himself, not for his money or status and that was all the belles of Milton saw him as – a rich mill master.
"You must marry some time, John!" his mother reminded him.
"Mother," John sighed, "I am traveling to Oxford, meeting with Bell, and returning immediately. Trust me, there will be no time for romance."
He rolled his eyes while he stepped away and headed for the door.
"I'll be back late," he called over his shoulder. "Don't wait up," he advised even though he knew that she would not listen.
….oOo….
"Papa," exclaimed Margaret as they boarded the northbound train, "Did you know that I have not been any further north than London!"
"Well," replied he, "Oxford isn't much further north than London."
"I know," replied Margaret, "but it is all new to me. I wonder what sites I might see and what people I might meet."
Sixteen-year-old Margaret might not be interested in the romance of relationships, but she was most certainly interested in the romance of adventure. In this manner she was much like her brother who had left home to become a sailor. Oh, how she missed dear Frederick. Margaret prayed every day that he would come home soon, safe and sound. She spent the whole of the journey to Oxford watching out the window and commenting to her father on the beautiful scenery they passed.
Mr. Bell met them at Oxford Station. He greeted his old friend with a firm handshake and a pat on the back. Margaret noticed a sympathetic look in the old man's eye when he looked at her father, but she did not think much of it. When the Oxford don turned to her, he clasped her hand in his and proclaimed, "Margaret! I declare you get lovelier and lovelier with each passing year." He bowed and kissed the back of her hand. "Why Hale," he said to his friend, "My dear goddaughter is fit to break the hearts of many a young lad. I suspect you will be marrying her off sooner than you think."
Margaret blushed and rolled her eyes. Why was everyone trying to marry her off! She had only just 'come out' this year. She was enjoying her youth and was not yet ready for the responsibilities that marriage, and the inevitable motherhood would bring. Plus, she wanted to marry for love, like her parents. She was not interested in money, like Aunt Shaw, or status, like Edith.
"Margaret intends to be extremely selective in her choice of husband," Mr. Hale teased his daughter, "She has already sworn off tradesmen and does not have much interest in young academics."
"Oh, really?" Bell replied.
"Oh, Papa, not you too," Margaret chastised, "It is just that I am still young. I have no interest in marriage just yet. I want to spend more time with you and Mama."
Mr. Bell smiled at the young girl. "She is right, Hale," he declared, "there is plenty of time yet for romance."
It was a short walk from the station to his lodgings on campus and as it was a beautiful day, Mr. Bell sent his man ahead with their bags, and escorted the father and daughter thither on foot himself.
After a light tea Mr. Bell took Margaret and her father on a tour of Oxford's beautiful historic campus. She enjoyed seeing the old buildings where famous people, such as John Locke and Adam Smith, as well as her father had studied. Mr. Bell and her father regaled her with stories of their time spent there as students including some of the pranks and other mischief they got into.
As they returned to Mr. Bell's office, Margaret's father turned to her.
"Margaret, dear," he said, "I would like to discuss something with Bell in private. Do you mind waiting here in the gardens?"
Margaret's features flashed with alarm but for her father's sake she quickly schooled them into calm acceptance. She did not like the idea of being left alone in a strange place.
The ever-observant Mr. Bell, however, caught her hint of reluctance and endeavored to rectify the situation.
"Margaret," said he, "Why don't you come and sit here." He directed her to a comfortable bench underneath a great pear tree. "My office is right there, in that window," he said, indicating the closest window to her position. "Your father and I will be able to see you from there."
"Thank you, Mr. Bell," she graciously replied.
"You will be quite alright?" he asked.
"Yes," answered she, "I have my sketch book to keep me entertained."
"We shan't be too long," her father said as he placed a kiss on her cheek.
"Yes," added Mr. Bell, "As a matter of fact, I have an appointment with one of my tenants in an hour."
"Well, there it is, Margaret," her father said, "I will be back in an hour."
Margaret nodded her assent and watched as the two men strode off together toward the building. Something had seemed to be weighing on her father's mind as of late and Margaret hoped that this conversation with Mr. Bell might help alleviate whatever concern was pressing upon him. In fact, she suspected this visit to his old friend in Oxford was expressly for that purpose.
Margaret sat there for a little while looking around at the beautiful gardens. It was a sunny summer day and the sunlight filtered through the trees and danced off the leaves. Margaret pulled out her sketchbook and began to draw.
….oOo….
John Thornton stepped off the train and sighed. The journey south had been long and tiresome, and he did not look forward to having to make the same trip back home in the evening.
He was already prepared to give his mother a report on the eligibility of his female train companions. One was too young – about eight years old. One was too fat – she even brought a basket of pastries with her and consumed them continuously for the entire journey. The third was, well, too much like Fanny. While John loved his sister to death, he could not stand her frivolous and overly ostentatious nature. A spouse of her ilk would never do. Why couldn't he find a beautiful, refined, intelligent young lady who sparked his interest.
He sucked in a breath of fresh Oxford air and strode away from the platform. He had been here before on similar business and knew the way to Bell's office on campus. The bright sunny day lifted his spirits tremendously. One never really experienced this kind of warmth and sunshine in Milton. The belching chimneys of the factories made sure of that.
However, John was proud of Milton and its factories, his especially. He had worked hard, and from such a young age, to raise Marlborough Mills to where it is at today – one of the finest cotton factories in the kingdom. The names of Marlborough Mills and John Thornton were known at all the major trading ports of the world.
And here he was – forced to take time out of his busy schedule to negotiate a new lease with his landlord. A long-term goal of his was to purchase the factory from Bell. However, that was most definitely on the back burner especially with the threat of an impending strike. But he was determined, by hook or by crook, he would one day own Marlborough himself.
As John walked across the Oxford University campus a strange sensation began to spread throughout his body. It grew and grew until he had to push aside all other thoughts and concentrate on what might be the cause of it. He stopped and looked around.
….oOo….
Margaret looked around for the best scene to sketch. She finally settled on a view down the path through the middle of the courtyard garden. She had to turn partially on the bench to get the right angle as the scene was mostly behind her.
A warm breeze blew through the trees, yet Margaret suddenly felt a chill. Footsteps were heard approaching from down the pathway that she was sketching. Margaret leaned around the tree for a better look. Her breath caught in her throat at what she saw. A man was walking in her direction. He was tall, dressed all in black except for a crisp white shirt. He had a confident stride and Margaret noticed how handsome he was the closer he came. He wore a serious expression and Margaret couldn't help but wonder how much more handsome he would look if only he smiled. She felt a strong desire to be the one to make that smile appear.
Suddenly he stopped and began to look around. Could he feel her staring at him? Holding her breath, Margaret quickly withdrew behind the tree again before he could see her. A moment later his footsteps started again, and Margaret looked up to watch him stride down the part of the path that ran nearest to her location. She was still partially concealed, and the handsome stranger never looked her way.
As soon as he disappeared, Margaret knew exactly what she wanted to add to her sketch to make it perfect.
….ooo….
Mr. Hale began to pace around the room as he and his oldest friend wrapped up their conversation. His conscience had driven him to doubt his calling and he felt the need to discuss it with his trusted friend in person. The decision he needed to make was weighing heavily upon him.
Richard stopped when he reached the window, spying his daughter outside. He cocked his head and let out a chuckle saying, happy for the momentary relief of his tension, "What is Margaret doing?" he wondered aloud, "Playing at hide and seek?"
Mr. Bell came and stood next to his friend, his eyes quickly taking in the scene outside his office window. Margaret seemed to be hiding behind a tree yet trying to peek around it. Following her gaze, he saw John Thornton walking this way, his tenant from Milton, approaching.
"I've never seen Margaret behave that way," her father mused, "She is usually so reserved."
"Indeed," replied Mr. Bell, thoughtfully.
Bell noticed the color rise in Margaret's cheeks as she watched Thornton the entire time he was visible to her. Her father, however, was oblivious to the other person outside the window.
Seeing his daughter at this moment struck a chord with her father and the magnitude of the choice he was contemplating surged forth anew. "What about Margaret and Maria?" he asked with a shaking voice, tears pooling in his eyes. "What will they think of me and how will they fare if I make this choice?"
"There, there," comforted Mr. Bell, placing an arm around his friend's shoulders. "Everything will turn out alright in the end. As I've said, I will help you. I will set my mind to it, and we will find you something to do."
His tears had begun to fall. Mr. Hale thanked his old friend. Mr. Bell escorted his distraught friend to another room where he could compose himself before collecting his daughter. They would meet again later as Mr. Bell's afternoon appointment was due to arrive.
….oOo….
As John reached the door to the building he paused and looked around once more. He still could not shake the feeling of being watched. He had to admit though, that it was more than that. There was a strange tingling sensation throughout his body which gave him an undeniable thrill. Glancing around, he saw and heard no one. He didn't have time to waste, however. He needed to finalize his lease with Bell and get back to his business in Milton. Pulling open the door, he stepped inside.
John had been here before and knew the way to Bell's office. As he approached the appropriate door, he saw his landlord escorting another man to a room across the hall.
Bell looked up and saw him. "Ah, there you are," his landlord said. Gesturing with his head to the office door behind him, Bell said, "Go on in and make yourself at home. I will be right there."
John entered the office. After having spent four hours sitting on a train, John had no desire to sit at the moment so the went to look out the window.
Immediately his eyes were drawn to the sight of a beautiful young lady sitting on a bench in the garden. She was stunningly beautiful with chestnut hair and a lithe figure. He must have walked right by her but had not seen her. The tingling sensation returned. Was it she who had been watching him?
The girl was sketching in a notebook. She would occasionally glance down the path and then back to her sketch. All of a sudden, she stopped and looked around as if she too felt she were being watched.
John took a step back from the window. Could she see him in here? He could not however, wrest his eyes from her just yet. There was something about her that he was drawn to.
….oOo….
Mr. Bell leaned against the door frame and observed the usually staid Master of Marlborough Mills as he stared out the window. From the direction of his line of sight, the Oxford don knew precisely what he was looking at and he was enjoying the love struck look on the younger man's face.
Bell moved silently across the office and stepped up beside Thornton. Surprising the young man he said, "Lovely, isn't she?"
"Huh?" replied Thornton, flustered.
"Lovely, view, I say, isn't it?" Bell covered.
"Oh, y-yes, very much so," John stammered, trying to recover his wits. "Good to see you again, Mr. Bell," he offered his hand and gave his landlord a firm Northern handshake.
"You too, Thornton. Please, have a seat," Bell indicated a chair, "so we can conduct our business."
John sighed and gave one last wistful glance out the window and took the seat.
Mr. Bell cocked an eyebrow and in his meddling mind he made a note to arrange a meeting of the two youngsters someday if the possibility was ever within his grasp. Oh, the fun he could have bringing together the gruff northern manufacturer and the high society southern beauty.