Entre lo que existe y lo que no existe,
el espacio es el amor. ~ Anónimo
Between that which exists and
that which does not
is the space called Love. ~ Anonymous
oooOOOooo
John had just returned from his rounds and had sat back down at his desk to tabulate columns of figures when Williams came in with the morning post. John took it from him and looked through it quickly. He smiled when he saw the package from Spain.
He sat back down at his desk and opened the package. Inside was a lovely rendering of the shoreline of the North Atlantic that Cadiz was located. The watercolor was charming and well-done. Miss Hale had painted it just for him, and he would treasure her precious gift.
Also included were gifts for Mary and the Boucher children. He set them aside, unfolded her letter, and began to read:
Dear Mr. Thornton,
I hope you enjoy my amateur rendering of the beach that I see each day from the balcony outside my room. I am lulled to sleep each night by the sounds of the waves rolling in. It is peaceful, but I have at times missed the sounds of Milton at night. I grew accustomed to the hustle and bustle of people on the city streets long after dark.
My life in Cadiz centers around family. Our home is built around an outdoor courtyard that is filled with brilliant blooms year-round. We eat dinner together there every night unless rain dictates that we take our meal inside. The meals almost always include some sort of seafood, and the cook seasons the food quite liberally. I must drink at least two glasses of water with each meal to cool my tongue. The spicy food is quite delicious, but I will admit to missing some English favorites. Sometimes, Dixon will get in the kitchen and make roast beef and Yorkshire pudding or roast chicken to go with the other dishes served.
Besides family, friends often join us for the evening meal. There is music and wonderful food, so an enjoyable time is had by all.
As I am mourning, the only place I go to is church or the market. Dixon attends the Anglican church with me as everyone else in my family is Catholic. Frederick converted before he married Dolores. It was important for him to do so because a husband and wife must share their faith and raise their family in that faith. All families are stronger with a shared belief in our Heavenly Father, and the tenets of that faith are practiced as a family.
Fred's wife, Dolores, will add a new addition to our family in early spring. Dixon delivered me when I was born and will help with the delivery of this baby as well. We are all looking forward to having a little one to love. I have begun sewing baby clothes and helping Dolores with decorating the nursery.
I cannot visit the poor and take baskets now, but when my year of mourning is over, I will do all I can for those less fortunate than I am. I do hope all is well with the families that you employ.
What wonderful news that Mary is to be married! I am pleased for her and so wish I could be there to assist her with the wedding. I am happy to hear that you spend time in their home each week. Perhaps in your next letter you can tell me how the children are doing. I have included in the box some gifts for the children and something for Mary.
I am happy that you and Nicholas are getting on so well. He is a noble man, just as you are. When he took on the Boucher children after their father took his life and their mother died a few days later, Nicholas did not have work. Yet, he humbled himself to come to you so that he could provide for those innocent children. I was grateful that you gave him employment.
I wish you could have known Bessie Higgins, Mr. Thornton. We talked about all the things young women our age speak of, but we also shared our faith. She was more than a friend to me; she was a sister. I will never forget her bravery when it became evident that her condition had worsened. She asked for something to remember me by, and I gave her some lace. We had such fun sitting on her bed that day, talking about all sorts of things and really nothing at all. I have never had such a friend as I had in her. Her friendship, although short-lived, had a profound effect on my life. I think if I should ever be so fortunate as to have a daughter, I would like to name her Elizabeth for my dear friend.
I was remiss in my last letter not to ask about Mrs. Thornton and Mrs. Watson. I do hope they are both doing well and in good health.
I do hope you will speak freely to me about mill matters. I am most interested and want to learn more about how you spend your days. I think it is very fine that you have formed a committee to deal with grievances the workers might have. How wonderful that Nicholas is a member of the committee, firebrand that he is. I hope you know that I mean that in a humorous way. I marvel at your friendship with Nicholas and how it has affected your role as a master. I do hope the other mill masters do not give you grief over your progressive ideas. I admire you for them greatly.
It gladdens my heart to know that we are not so different in our view of the masters and their employees. All businesses must make a profit to continue to provide jobs for their employees, but the extra measures you put in place at Marlborough Mills show that you also see your workers as more than just "hands." I wish I could be a fly on the wall to hear the committee meetings and how you are able to come to a compromise that allows everyone to feel they are working together for the future of the mill and the well-being of everyone.
, I feel I must ask about a delicate matter, and I hope you will not be offended. Before I left Milton, I saw you a few times with Miss Latimer on your arm. I know it was your mother's wish that you form an attachment to her as it would benefit both of your families in Milton society. Mrs. Watson told me that it was her wish for Miss Latimer to become her sister. I know you are a man of integrity and would not write to me if you were attached to another woman, but may I ask if Miss Latimer holds a place in your heart?
When I think back on the day you made a proposal of marriage to me, I think if we had just sat down and talked through the events of the day before, things would have gone much better. I had overheard Fanny and Jane speaking while I was coming back into consciousness as I lay on the settee in your drawing room. Fanny told Jane that I was trying to trap you into marriage. I was deeply offended by that, and when you came to Crampton, I genuinely thought you only came that day to rescue my reputation by offering me your name. It was not until the last few minutes you were in the room that I saw the pain I had inflicted upon you with my refusal, and it grieved me terribly.
At that time, I wish I had asked you to stay, and perhaps we could have found a path forward. I learned a valuable lesson that day about the importance of kindness. I hope to never speak cruel words to anyone ever again or to part in anger after such harsh words have been spoken. Let us promise that between us, we will never again end a conversation from this point on in misunderstanding, even in our letters.
Some evenings, I stand and look out at the ocean with the stars reflecting on the waves, and I wonder what might have been if I had made different choices. Mr. Thornton, sometimes, my thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations. I have things I want to express; I just do not have the words to say all I feel when I think of Milton…and of you.
I will close this very long letter now, but when you find the time, I would welcome your reply. As we say in Cadiz, hasta la próxima vez, Mr. Thornton. The Spanish have a way of saying the most mundane things in a way that sounds beautiful, even musical. The phrase means, "until next time."
Yours, Margaret Hale
He ran his hand over the pages and imagined her mellifluous voice speaking the words as he read them. John loved the glimpses into the life she lived in Cadiz and felt closer to her than he did when she lived in Milton. When he had asked for her hand a year ago, he knew far less about her than he did now.
The painting she created for him was exquisite. For a moment, he was struck by the beauty of Margaret's life in Cadiz. How could he ask her to return to dirty and smoky Milton? There was beauty away from Milton proper where the mill was located, but a person had to travel three or four miles to get to a place yet unspoiled by the progress of the Industrial Revolution.
Would it be selfish to ask her to return to the place where she had known such sorrow? To return to a place that was shades of gray compared to the kaleidoscope of color that the landscapes of Cadiz provided?
Yet, he sensed in her letter that she did not remember her time in Milton without some fondness. She had made a comfortable home in Crampton for her family, but she had not fit in because her place in society was not clearly defined. As his wife, her place in society would be as a mill master's wife and as mistress of his home. His mother would take on the role as matriarch of the family.
In Cadiz, she lived in a home. A place where she loved and was loved by all who resided there.
He furrowed his brow when he thought of his mother and her dislike of Miss Hale. She would not accept Miss Hale as her daughter-in-law easily. Mother and son had always had a close bond until he gave his heart to Miss Hale, and he did not know if his mother hated Miss Hale or hated that he loved Miss Hale more than anyone else in his life. The comparison between the loving home that Miss Hale lived in now and the home he could offer her was not a favorable one.
He sighed and decided that very soon he would have a long talk with his mother.
John would keep the watercolor in his desk drawer to take out and enjoy when he was alone. Discovery of the painting could jeopardize Fred Dickenson's safety, and John would do all he could to protect his secret.
The last lunch bell clanged, and John collected the gifts for Mary and the Boucher children and went to meet Higgins at the canteen.
Before they ate lunch, John and Higgins spoke outside for a few minutes. "Higgins, Miss Hale sent gifts for Mary and the children."
Higgins looked at Thornton slyly, "You been correspondin' with Miss Margret, Master?"
"Yes, just a letter or two, and all is done properly through her male relative."
Higgins lowered his voice and leaned in, "I am glad she is with her brother, with him being all she has left of her family and all."
John looked confused, "Her brother? Richard never told me he had a son."
"He is in some trouble with the navy, I believe it was. My Mary fetched things for Miss Margret when he were over here to see his mother before her death."
John smiled and repeated, "He was her brother." John had not known that detail about Frederick Dickenson.
Higgins lowered his voice to a whisper, "It is a grave secret, Master, you must never tell. Miss Margret sacrificed her reputation for his safety. It grieved me not to be able to set the record straight, but I swore to say nothing. Our poor Miss Margret suffered so while she lived in Milton."
"Yes, she did, Higgins, she absolutely did."
The two men went into the canteen to find Mary and a steaming bowl of her delicious hotpot. There were few men in the room by this time, and John led Higgins to an empty table at the back of the canteen so their conversation would not be overheard.
When Mary brought the bowls over for the men to eat, John told her the box was from Miss Hale. Mary wiped her hands on her apron and looked through the box. There were books and toys for the children. For her, there was a set of pearl combs and a beautiful vanity set. There was also a Spanish lace shawl, but the most precious thing in the box was a handkerchief embroidered with yellow roses and the initials BH.
Margaret had included a note. Mary felt the tears gather in her eyes, and she handed the note to Mr. Thornton to read. Mary and Higgins leaned in to hear him read Miss Margret's words.
Dear Mary,
I miss you, my friend, and hope you are well. Mr. Thornton told me that you were soon to be a bride. I offer you my sincerest congratulations.
I saw these things at the market and hope they please you. The combs were carved by a local craftsman and will look so lovely in your dark hair. The shawl was made locally as well, and I hope you will enjoy wearing it. The color reminds me of the seafoam that I often see when I watch the waves crash over the rocky shoreline close to my home. I hope when you use the vanity set each morning, you will remember me from time to time.
The handkerchief was embroidered when our dear Bessie was still alive, but I never had the chance to give it to her as she died so suddenly. I always thought we would have more time. When you marry Matthew, I thought you might want to carry it with you. I believe that people we love who have passed away are always with us in our memories and our hearts. I am sure Bessie would be very happy for you, as I am. She will be with you in spirit on this most important day in your life.
I have included two tins of tea in the box, and I hope you will use it the next time Mr. Thornton comes to visit. It is a blend that is local to the area and my favorite.
I do not have the words to tell you how much I miss spending time in your home where I felt loved as a member of your family. Even now, I wish I could walk to Princeton and sit before the hearth sharing our day and tending to the children.
I wish you every happiness.
With love, Margaret
By the time John finished reading the letter, Higgins had tears running down his cheeks, and so did Mary. Higgins stood up to embrace his daughter and said, "She is good people, our Miss Margret."
All Mary could do was nod. She thanked for reading the note and went back to work.
The men finished eating without saying much. Before they left, Higgins remarked that he lost one daughter when Bessie died, but Miss Margaret would always be his daughter for the rest of his life in the same way Mary was.
"Miss Hale always speaks highly of you, Higgins, and I know she misses you and Mary."
"I doubt that we are the only ones she misses, Master." Higgins tipped his hat to Thornton and went back to the weaving shed.
oooOOOooo
That evening, after Williams closed the mill gate and locked things up, John sat down at his desk and began his reply to Miss Hale.
Author's Notes:
'Sometimes, my thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations." John Green, The Fault in Our Stars
Thank you, Mimosa, for helping me edit this story! And as always, comments and discussions of the plot line and characters are much appreciated!
