LIKE FATHER, LIKE SONS

Chapter Five

As John climbed the stairs to the passageway that accommodated the bairns' bedrooms, he tutted to himself and rubbed his brow for the umpteenth time that day. God! How could Margaret, his darling wife, how could this sweet creature not know just how much she and their children meant to him?

John Thornton had come to accept that despite his earthly wealth and achievements, at the core, he was not a true gentleman, not in the refined sense of the word. No, he was and would always be a gruff fellow, one who was not prone to showing his feelings or giving way to public displays of sentiment. It was now, after years of marriage, that he could fully grasp why Margaret had assumed him to be no more than a cold and calculating tyrant during their early acquaintance. He had been stiff, he had been severe, and he had seldom smiled. Instead, John had shielded his heart by scowling at Margaret and treating her with scorn, desperately hoping that she could not fathom the immeasurable effect she had on him. Good grief! – what a grim figure he must have cut, what a cad!

He remembered the day he was first introduced to her as if it were yesterday. He had been standing in Mr Hale's study, discussing the terms of his tutorials with his new teacher in the same way he conducted all his business affairs, with impersonal efficiency.

Then, it had happened, he had met her, and his life had transformed forever.

Mr Hale had cheerfully announced the entrance of his daughter and John had turned, ready to greet this new arrival with his customary brand of moderate civility. He had assumed that Miss Hale was a child, but lo-and-behold, she was a fully grown woman, one who looked upon him with thinly disguised disgust. Her disdain had thrown him, and, at the same time, much to his bafflement, it had equally intrigued him, attracted him, even.

He immediately recognised that she was the lass who had interfered at the mill when he had dismissed Stevens for smoking. Every degree of logic in his shrewd mind told him to pay her no heed and to dismiss her as no more than a frustrating foreigner, a lady who would never understand him, his town, or his trade. It should not have bothered him as much as it did, for she was of no consequence, indeed, John did not require her permission, nor did he desire her approval, to conduct his personal and professional concerns in any way he saw fit. Well, that is what he told himself at any rate. He recollected that during that interview, where she had insulted his character in a way nobody had ever dared before, it had occurred to him how unfortunate it was that this adversary had the prettiest face he had ever seen.

But it had been too late.

John now deemed that day as one of the most significant events in his entire life. Throughout their heated conversation, he had felt unsettled, terribly flustered, as if he were on an unstable footing, being knocked for six by her attack, powerless to defend himself. But it was not because she was defying his authority as a master, or sullying his reputation as a gentleman, or even that she was humiliating him in front of Mr Hale, no, no. It was that during that brief passage of time, something inexplicable was happening. It was that John Thornton, unknown to himself, was falling in love for the first and only time.

He had not appreciated it then, but a part of him that had lain dormant for years was finally awakening. During that uncanny and utterly brutal first encounter, John's soul had been roused, it had jolted, and it had soared like an eagle, for you see, in that instant, John's soul had seen something, felt something, known something that he had not, that it had found its one true mate. It was the strangest and most surreal phenomenon, and he would never forget it – never!

Yet, despite his mounting passion for her, John had been unable to confess or convey his feelings for Margaret until the riot had forced his hand. It was not that he was apathetic to her brains and beauty, but rather, that he had always been poorly qualified at disclosing his emotions, and what's more, he could not bear the idea of someone, especially someone as magnificent as her, deciphering his heart and using its secrets to mock him, abuse him, and worst of all, pity him.

But for all his attempts at self-preservation, John had been helpless against her charms, which had expertly breached the lonely fortress of his remoteness, smashing its walls, and softening his stony heart. It was through those cracks, that slowly but surely, the sunlight, the tenderness of her soul had seeped in and stirred him, thawing his apathy to the very notion of marriage. Then, from the night that he had learned that Margaret loved him and welcomed his affections, he had vowed to change. No more would he appear indifferent or act aloof, but promised that for every day of the rest of their lives together, he would dedicate his undeserving body and spirit to showings Margaret just how much she meant to him. From then on, John had showered her with love. He gave her presents, he gave her his time, he took an interest in her concerns and opinions, he praised her, he respected her, he embraced her, he made love to her, and, most of all, he smiled at her. John knew that his smiles were rare, but by God! – if anyone in this whole wretched world could make him smile, it was that divine woman!

Reaching the top of the landing, his steps were interrupted by the sight of a faithful old friend. Lounging in his basket, a black-coated Labrador rested outside the children's chambers, like a trusty guard dog keeping watch over a treasure trove.

'Good evening, Ruff,' John murmured, 'Or should I say good morning?' he groaned wearily.

Spying John approaching, Ruff lifted his muzzle, and the master noticed the mutt's tail gently begin to wag, making quiet thudding noises as it flapped. John shook his head affectionately, for the daft animal may have been a featherbrained scamp, but John could not fault him for his steadfast loyalty to the Thornton family, especially the little ones.

'Hey-ho, boy,' John crooned, as he knelt beside the dog. He cringed as he felt his knees click and creak under his weight. 'Ah, Ruff! Your master is getting old and grey. Can you believe I'm thirty-eight already?' he snorted; his eyebrows raised at the horror of such an idea.

Ruff let out a shallow howl in response, letting his tongue dangle.

'Oye! Haud yer wheest!' John scoffed, 'No need to put it quite like that, you cheeky rascal! I know I'm no young buck anymore, but I've still got what it takes,' he retorted with a roguish wink, thinking about all the things he intended to do to his wife later tonight. Well, that is if he was ever given the damned chance.

Scratching the hound's ears, he slowly stood. 'Right boy, I'm here to see the puppies, thank you for minding them for me.'

While John ambled away, Ruff gave him one last glance, before settling his chin back on his paws and closing his drooping eyes, eager to dream of chewing bones, digging holes, and dashing across the Milton Green to relieve himself on his favourite statue of Queen Victoria.

John tip-toed along the narrow corridor and stopping outside the first door he came to, he cautiously pushed it open, wincing as he heard the hinges whine. Ducking his head around the frame, he peered into the dimness of the sleeping room.

He grinned broadly.

Above the hush of the slumbering scene, he could hear the rhythmical breathing of Nicholas and Elizabeth, both bubbas dozing in their cots. Leaning further in, he could just make out their shapes. Nikko was lying on his back and sucking his thumb with his woollen blanket knitted by Mary Higgins tucked possessively under the crook of his arm. The other hand was lazily looping around his auburn curls and his tiny toes were tapping the side of his bed in that quaint way they did when he was content. Peeking over at Lizzie, John could tell that she was on her tummy and he could detect the muffled hum of her snores as her body rose and fell with each breath and snort.

God Almighty!

John loved them with a profound passion that threatened to overwhelm him at times. If anybody had told John Thornton before he met Margaret Hale that he was capable of feeling such fierce devotion, or that he would be the recipient of such blissful affection from children, then he would have laughed in their face and dubbed them a lunatic.

Being careful to shut the door as quietly as he could, John continued on his way, taking care not to disrupt his napping brood. He would like to have looked in on Maria, but he knew she would not thank him for it. Even though she was her papa's princess and the two of them were as thick as thieves, she was a light sleeper and his lumbering presence would be sure to wake her, resulting in a strop and sulk that could rival her Aunt Fanny. Yes, Marra-Moo was like her mother; she was not to be disturbed when asleep, not if the offender wished to live to see another day. No, he would see his cherub tomorrow when she sat beside him at breakfast, as she always did, and they partook in their customary ritual of sharing the morning paper and halving a plate of kippers, scrambled eggs, and toast with marmalade. John smiled as he thought of the way she perused the financial columns and chirped between her teeth, muttering about fiscal downturns and abatement tax rates. Bless her! – she was only seven, but she was her father's daughter and make no mistake.

Still, as much as he was delighted by the idea of seeing Maria, Nicholas and Elizabeth after three weeks abroad, it was not them he was here to visit, no, he had come to speak to Richard and Daniel. As he paced along the hallway, John considered what needed to be done. He pondered over exactly what he should say and how he should say it.

Bleedin' heck!

This was a mission better matched to Margaret and her natural maternal qualities, for while she was expressive and diplomatic, he was a blundering twit who was better suited to keeping his trap shut.

John had never been good with words, and now, more than ever, he wished he could borrow even an ounce of his wife's eloquence. The problem was that because John was a man who was economical in his turn of phrase, people often assumed that he was shallow, that he felt and thought very little. Perhaps that was not surprising when they compared him to his sister, but in fact, it was decidedly the opposite. John both felt and thought most intensely indeed, but he lacked the confidence to converse easily with others and his silence could be misinterpreted as detachment.

It was one of the reasons why he had never been able to tell Margaret how he felt before his first disastrous proposal. Well, that and the fact that he was acutely shy and convinced that she would never even consider him as a contender for her heart. It was his lack of fluency and poetry that had led to his hot-headed offer for her hand, then his chagrined discourtesy at the Great Exhibition, followed by his profane verbal incontinence when she had visited him in his office, and lastly and most lowly, his disgraceful outburst when he had mistook her letter to her brother as that of one to a lover, and had subsequently broken her heart with his vicious tongue.

No, John felt and thought deeply, but words had never been his forte. That is why, tonight, he could be found wringing his hands as he trod up and down the hallway, twisting his wedding band round and round his finger, wondering how to make amends to his boys. John took a sharp breath as he stopped outside the twin's bedroom.

He was so lost.

John had always been able to distinguish right from wrong, even from an early age. He had resolutely stood tall and firm in his convictions, upholding his distinctive integrity, the compass of his conscience. But now, well, he feared that he had been reprehensibly misguided. Had he really been so utterly blind to the needs of his lads? Had his innate desire to protect them blinkered him from appreciating their curiosity and capabilities? Had his qualms prevented him from identifying their longing, their need for his company, and his invitation to learn more about their father and his life?

Perhaps.

With a stalwart sigh, he braced himself and knocked faintly on the door. When he crept in, John found two little tykes huddled under their bedclothes, shivering amongst a whimpering symphony of bleats and blubs.

'Hey, hey, hey,' he fretted softly. 'What's all this?' he asked in the gentlest voice he could muster.

As their father drew near and perched himself on the edge of the bed, the twins shot each other a hesitant glance and scrambled to sit up, scrubbing at their puffy eyes.

John reached out a hand and caught a stray teardrop as it rolled down Richard's cheek. 'What's all this sobbing about then? Hmm?' he questioned.

'You shouted at us!' Richard accused, but instead of sounding indignant, his tone was sad, and he sniffed theatrically and hauled a sleeve along his snotty nose.

John exhaled.

'I did shout at you, didn't I?' he admitted regretfully.

'Aye,' Richard snapped. 'You were like a big angry bear, Pa!' he added with a pout, but John could detect the tell-tale signs of a sly smirk.

'Oh-aye? I'm a bear, am I?' he asked jokingly and grinned as they both nodded vigorously. 'That reminds me,' he went on, shuffling back on the mattress so that he was between them. 'This bear hasn't had any dinner and he's starvin'!' he revealed with a playful growl, before scooping the boys up in his arms and pretending to eat their feet, making loud munching noises.

They both screamed and shrieked as he tickled them, but John noticed that they made no effort to escape his grip, clearly enjoying the rough-and-tumble of their father's horseplay.

After the bear had nibbled enough toes, Danny piped up, his pitch suspicious. 'Have you come to bawl at us again?'

John sighed and stretched his burly arms wide, enveloping his sons so he could tug them tight to him, one gathered under each of his shoulders. Despite their show of sorrow, they both wriggled closer and rested their heads on his chest.

'No,' he reassured them fondly, 'I've no' come to shout at the pair of you.'

Danny was still dubious, and his jaw jutted in the same way his mother's did when she was at her most defiant. 'What' ya come for then?'

'Well,' John commenced, his manner thoughtful. 'I have come to make you boys a proposal.'

His heart skipped a beat as their heads shot up and they blinked expectantly.

It was Richard's turn to talk. 'Oh, aye?'

'Aye,' John countered. 'I have a plan, but there is just one problem, see.'

Danny narrowed his eyes. 'What's that then?'

'Well lads, in order for it to work, we are all going to have to trust each other.'

'How?' Richard wanted to know, his curiosity getting the better of him. 'What's the plan, Pa?'

'Ah, well now, your Ma has this funny idea that all this sneaking into the mill is not about you rascals being naughty. No, she thinks that this mischief is your way of trying to tell me that you want to spend a bit more time with your grumpy old man.' John spotted that they both twitched and their eyes widened with animation. Maybe he was on the right track after all. 'Your mother thinks that you would both like to come to the factory to see me more often, to help me, even.'

Both boys nodded enthusiastically.

John beamed. Lord! Was Margaret ever wrong?

'All right then, my proposition is this…I will start taking you both to the mill with me three times a week as my helpers.'

The boys rallied and their faces were flushed with excitement.

'But!' John stated, halting them with a stern gaze. 'But there are conditions, do you hear? One: I will choose when those three occasions are, not you. Agreed?'

They bobbed their heads up and down.

'Two: I must be with you at all times when you attend the mill – at all times!' His burr had become heavy with gravity. 'And three: if you ever try and sneak in without my permission again, this deal will be off, and it will not be renewed. Again, do you understand?'

Their expressions confirmed that they did.

'Good. Now, if you follow those provisos, I will let you assist me with my tasks. You can help oversee the factory, learn how the business works, see the machines in operation, and even lend a hand with a few of the jobs. Well then, what do you say? Do we have a contract?'

The boys tilted back on their heels and trundled across to the other side of the bed. There they huddled together and whispered with each other for a minute, occasionally glancing back at John.

'Aye, Sir!' Danny settled at last, thrusting out his hand. 'We accept your offer.'

'Right you are, Mr Thornton, we two Mr Thorntons agree to your terms,' Richard added, proffering his own hand and shaking his father's firmly.

John's pride pricked at his son's formal tone and it reminded him of his own starched inflection. The master held out his large hand to them one at a time. 'Good,' he said, shaking their hands to bind the agreement. 'But mind what I said, any trouble, any breaking of the rules, that's it! - you'll not be setting foot in the mill again, and both your mother and I will be seriously disappointed. However, you are fine boys, and I trust that you will both keep to your oath and live up to your responsibilities, as will I.'

'We will, Pa, we promise,' they chorused with vigorous nods.

'Good, good.' At this point, John sucked in his breath, for he knew there was something else that needed to be said, but for the life of him, it was darned difficult to find the words. 'Now, sons, before I go, I have something I want to say…no, something I need to say.'

They cocked their heads and waited.

'Ricky, Danny, I'm really sorry I got so cross with you. I don't take back any of what I said, mind. The mill is dangerous, and it was inconsiderate of you both to venture there without my permission and irresponsible to do so without my protection. However, your mother has helped me to see that maybe I was not as sympathetic as I could have been, and I'm sorry for not listening to you. But I want you to know something, I was not angry because you put the mill in jeopardy,' John swallowed thickly. 'No, I was scared.'

'Scared?!' they repeated with a gasp. 'But, you're so big and strong, you never get scared!'

John guffawed.

'That's not true, I assure you that I do. I've been scared witless many times in my life. I was scared when I started school. I was scared when I lost my own father. I was scared when I had to go and live in a horrible place and look after my family when I was just a child myself. I was scared when I set out at the mill and thought I would never make a success of things. Then, I was scared when I met your mother.'

The boys gawked.

'Never!' they retorted. 'Ma ain't scary!'

John laughed. Ha! While he was thankful these two little Mr Thorntons were not afraid of her, this Mr Thornton had certainly been intimidated by her on more than one occasion before she agreed to take his name.

'It's true! I loved her and I wanted her to be my friend, but she didn't like me much, and it terrified me to think she never would. I was worried that she could never love me, and we would never get wed. But I've come to learn that being scared is not a weakness but a sign that we have a soul. It's all right to be frightened, we must learn to be brave, but boys, I have never been so afraid in all my days than I am now,' he admitted with a trembling sigh.

They both startled, giving each other a confused glimpse that flickered with alarm. 'But why?'

John gazed down at their innocent little faces and his heart swelled with love, for not only could he see his beloved boys, but in that moment, their faces proved something remarkable, which was an uncanny resemblance to both John and Margaret alike. It was a reminder that their babes were a creation of their union, a testimony to their bond, and it made their children all the more precious. He recaptured his composure and fought back the tears that stung behind his glassy orbs.

'I was scared that something might happen to you both,' he professed. 'I know I sometimes shout and can be an irritable old goat, but I love you boys very, very, very much. I love you ─'

'To the moon and back!' they giggled.

'That's right!' John sniggered too, 'And further still.'

John tousled Danny's hair and patted Richard on the shoulder. 'Now, I think it's time for bed, for all of us. But you mind what I say,' he added with a weak warning. 'I'm giving you both an inch, but don't go taking a mile. I swear I shall hold up my end of the bargain if you see you do the same.'

They both crossed their hearts faithfully.

John slapped his knees and stood, content that his deed was done. 'Right, that's that then. Night lads, get some sleep, you've got school in the morn.'

Just as John was about to shut the door, Danny called out: 'Da?'

John let a private smile coil his lips. The boys hardly ever called him Dada anymore, but sometimes, just sometimes, when they were drowsy, the infantile expression slipped out.

'Hmm?'

'If you're such a grouchy old bear, then why did Ma marry you?' There was a hint of amusement in the boy's attitude and John knew he did not mean it as a disrespect.

John slanted against the doorframe and chuckled wistfully. 'Do you know what, son? I ask myself the same question every single day.'

'And what's the answer? Richard pestered. 'Why did our Ma marry our Da?'

John thought for a minute, but when his answer came, it was chockfull of confidence. 'Because we are made for each other.'