REMEMBER, REMEMBER

Chapter Two

The hansom cab trundled through the paved streets of Milton and the children giggled as they were bounced up and down by the hobbledehoy of the horse's clippty-clop, as the mares trotted along, their hooves clicking on the cobbles. Maria sat demurely with her hands clasped on her knee, conversing with her grandmother about their latest sewing venture. The twins were hanging out of the windows, howling like banshees, and heckling at passers-by. It was not until John had crankily dragged them back inside and glowered at them that they both piped down and recalled their promise. Nicholas was scrambling all over John as if he were a mountain, and Margaret had to gently wrench him away, enticing him with a wooden lion that he instantly pilfered, before beginning to roar at the top of his lungs. To any onlooker, this ruckus may have appeared preposterous, but to the Thorntons, it had become routine.

Margaret watched her husband, curious as to what he was plotting. She had never seen John so thrilled or nervous about taking the family out before, but she wished he would confide in her so that she could join in his anticipation. It was pitch-black outside, so it was difficult to tell where they were heading, but her mind was a flurry of suggestions, each one as extraordinary as the last.

Eventually, the carriage came to a halt and John gazed out into the wintry night, his breath misting into vapour. 'We're here,' he announced, a puckish glimmer replacing his previously tense bearing.

Opening the coach doors, the Thorntons were instantly met by a fantastical festival of sensory delights. They could smell peanuts roasting on a fire, they could hear the enthusiastic gaiety of children, they could taste smoke in the air, and they could see a mass of figures, all toing and froing under the cloak of dusk. Each rambling individual was only visible owing to the vast string of painted lanterns that decorated and illuminated the scene, creating a picture of celebratory joy.

John helped them each to disembark and Hannah and Margaret shared a questioning look. 'Do you know anything about this?' Margaret inquired, turning to her mother-in-law, who, after all, knew John like the back of her hand.

'I am as much in the dark as you are, my dear,' Hannah answered, chuckling at her pun.

'Mother,' Maria said, tugging at her arm and angling her rosy face to peek at her mama. 'Mother, I think we are at the Milton Green.'

Margaret glanced about her and at once, she knew her daughter was right. They were standing on the edge of an extensive parkland, which was situated in the heart of the town. It was a sizeable, open space comprising of luscious fields and trees, where citizens of Milton would spend their leisure time strolling, socialising, and exchanging titbits of scandal. But the question was, what on earth was happening tonight? The common seemed to be teeming with visitors, all chattering animatedly as if they too were privy to some mystery. However, what intrigued Margaret the most, was the fact that the swarm did not only consist of the town's elite, but of people from all backgrounds, including mill hands, teachers, shopkeepers, dressmakers, doctors, bank clerks, railway workers, lawyers, and chimney sweeps, all clad in their Sunday best. She even caught sight of a few familiar faces of those who worked at Marlborough Mills, or of pupils who either presently or historically had attended her school. As each acquaintance spotted her, they would wave fondly at the much-admired Mrs John Thornton, the darling of Milton.

'I think you are right, poppet,' Margaret returned, still puzzled. 'I wonder why your papa has brought us here.'

'I think it may have something to do with that,' Maria suggested, pointing up to a banner that hung in a position of prominence.

Margaret and Hannah glanced up, and sure enough, above their heads, there was a sign with the script:

WE WELCOME YOU TO THE ANNUAL MILTON BONFIRE NIGHT, 1859.

Margaret and Hannah turned to each other, their befuddled visages conveying and confirming that neither of them had been aware of any of this.

'John,' Hannah called, 'John, do come explain yourself, what is all this?' she demanded, for indeed, Hannah Thornton was not accustomed to being left out of the loop when it came to Milton matters, and the occurrence had both stimulated and unsettled her most distinctly.

John wandered over to them, a roguish grin on his face, much like a cat who had got the cream. On the way, he tipped his hat to a few bystanders who briefly stopped to commend him, but for what, his family knew not.

'Well, Mother, Meg, I have decided this year to put on an event for the town,' he clarified. Then, opening his arms wide, he gestured to the lively landscape surrounding him. 'I have organised a bonfire and firework display to entertain all the townsfolk, man or woman, rich or poor, old or young, master or labourer, they are all invited.'

Their mouths fell open. 'John!' they both gasped. 'How ─ when ─ what ─ when ─ who? Oh my! How long have you been planning this?' they interrogated, both tripping over their words.

He chortled. 'A few months now. I had the idea when the boys accidentally set alight to that small bag of gunpowder at the barracks, and then it exploded into the sky, and they both thought they had died and gone to Heaven. After seeing the look on their faces, I thought it might be something special for Milton to enjoy as a city, as a community. Why can the likes of Manchester and Birmingham have a bonfire festival, but we cannot? And there is an array of booths of all sorts, where a percentage of the profits go to charitable causes, so, you see, there is something for everyone.' Then shuffling awkwardly, he added: 'I did not tell you both because I wanted it to be a surprise.'

'Oh, John!' Margaret squeaked, hardly able to contain her elation, nor her pride in her husband for his abundance of creativity and goodwill. She had to remind herself that they were in public and that it would not do for her to throw herself into his arms, for that was a spectacle that she was not keen to repeat.

Hannah was reserved for a minute, but she soon nodded in agreement. 'Aye son,' she settled. 'You have done a grand thing here. It is most benevolent of you and it will do your reputation and standing in Darkshire no harm, being seen as the generous Master and Magistrate who has the initiative and the purse to put on such an event,' she conceded, elevating her haughty chin. 'For it must have cost you a pretty penny and it will remind people of your importance.'

John and Margaret shared a private smirk, for they knew his motives were not so self-seeking, but still, the matriarch had a point.

'Well, it was not all me,' he confessed coyly. 'I got help from other local businessmen, as well as the Mayor and our Member of Parliament. It has been a collaborative effort, of which I have been privileged to be a part of.'

'What rot! An effort that you engineered, more like,' Margaret acclaimed. 'But, John, how did we not know? Everybody else seems to. How on earth did you keep it from us so perfectly?'

'That was easy,' he sniffed. 'Nobody likes either of you very much, so nobody bothered to tell you,' he joked.

'Oye! You cheeky chap!' they both retorted, batting one of his arms each.

It was then that they heard a friendly voice, and a tall, broad, gruff-looking fellow rambled towards them, taking off his cap and waving it about.

'Master! Mistress!' he hollered.

'Higgins,' John greeted, as he turned to shake the hand of his overseer. 'I am heartily glad you could make it. Did the children manage to all come along?' he asked, scanning the park for the Bouchers. John was always keen to see the tykes, especially Tom, who he had become like an uncle to, always available to offer advice and support with his studies.

'Aye Master, aye!' Higgins reassured. 'They wouldna' miss this for the world! What a thing to see! You've done yer city proud, Thornton! You'll be the toast of the town for some time, I should think!' he praised, slapping the formidable Master on the back.

It was at this point that Nikko made his presence known and held out his hand to Higgins, who beamed at the sight of his namesake. 'Good evenin' young Master Thornton, it is awful fine to see you here. Ain't you a lucky lad to be allowed to come to this?' he joshed, as he lifted the boy into his burly arms.

The troupe turned as they heeded the thundering thud of thumping boots as Richard and Danny came running up to them with faces flushed with joy. 'Pa! Ma! There are games with prizes! And toffee apples and iced buns! And a tug-of-war competition! And a train engine to see ─ the actual engine, Pa! Can we go, please!' they entreated, their eyes wide with glee.

Their parents laughed. 'Aye,' John permitted. 'Take your sister and the Bouchers with you,' he tallied, dropping his hand into his pocket and offering them a handful of coins. 'And don't wander far! And don't be getting up to any nonsense, mind! Boys? BOYS?!' he bellowed after them, getting increasingly louder as they scurried further away, scooting off to take in all the merriment the night had to offer. John huffed. 'I dread to think what they will be getting up to,' he griped. 'It's not them I'm worried about, you know, they can look after themselves. It's everyone else I feel sorry for.'

Margaret stroked his cheek and he twisted towards her, instantly mollified by her calming charms. 'Well, darling,' she coaxed. 'Why do we not go and explore ourselves? For if we cannot see what mischief they get up to, then surely, we need not worry so.' Deeming his wife's advice as most wise, John agreed and taking her arm proudly in his, the Master and Mistress of Marlborough Mills commenced to review and reconnoitre the marvel of Milton's first annual November extravaganza.

The next couple of hours were spent walking around the Milton Green and taking in all the wonderful sights. Margaret marvelled at all the stands selling food, displaying handicrafts, or hosting tournaments. But what was most impressive, were the smiles on all the spectator's faces, as they appreciated the spectacle before them.

She also clandestinely felt her heart swell with affection as she observed her husband stroll about amongst his people. John was such a funny creature really. At home, behind closed doors, he was a gentle giant; a cuddly bear; a devoted husband, father and son, one who idolised and prioritised his family. But, in public, he was very much the serious-minded master, the man whom people revered and respected as an intimidating force of nature. He stood tall and firm, his strength and stature making him a daunting but inspiring presence.

Margaret felt pride tingle in her chest as all sorts of people stopped to speak to John, each one either seeking his valued opinion or applauding him on some deal or success related to trade or the law. However, despite his outwardly steely countenance, there were subtle differences between the John Thornton of old and the John Thornton of the present. In the past, he had been more rigid and cross, whereas now, he was more relaxed and cheerful, his whole body looser with the knowledge of his contentment in life. He was a man like no other, and Margaret was honoured to wear a wedding band that bound her to him in a trinity of romantic, legal and spiritual union, and it made her squeeze his arm just that little bit tighter.

At that moment, Margaret spotted what looked like a wide freesia-pink circus tent festooned with frills and bows in the distance. However, she soon glanced back twice as she detected the tent begin to move towards her. Blinking rapidly, she scrutinised it and then swiftly realised that it was no bivouac, but something much more disagreeable.

It was not long before John too spied it and he let out a groan. 'Bleedin' heck!' he hissed. Then, turning in rapid circles, he almost hauled Margaret off into the crowd. 'Quick! Before she sees us.'

But alas, it was too late, for the next second they heard a high-pitched soprano accent calling out, 'John! Margaret! Hooey! Over here!'

'Damn!' John grumbled.

The couple veered back as Fanny and her husband drifted towards them. Fanny seemed to be adorned in the most lavish and ludicrous outfit that both John and Margaret had ever seen. It was blindingly bright, and it was bejewelled in an array of purple ribbons that resembled streamers. Both of them believed, though did not express it, but they rather thought she looked like a firework herself.

'Greetings!' Watson rumbled, merrily beaming from cheek-to-cheek. Margaret smiled, for even though George Watson may have been a buffoon, he was harmless and full of high spirits.

'Watson, Fanny,' John replied, nodding his head curtly, his lips in a tight line of frustration.

'Thornton,' Watson flashed a row of yellow teeth. 'My-my-my, man! What a night! What an affair! My word, you've been a sly fellow organising all this. It must have cost you an arm and a leg, but then again, I suppose you can afford it. It's excellent, quite brilliant! he hailed.

Fanny wrinkled her petite nose. 'I cannot fathom it, John,' she stated tersely. 'Asking us to traipse around a park in the dead of night when anybody might carry us off into the shadows. Then there is all this mud, the hem of my poor dress is practically ruined, and it was new last week. And,' she said pointedly, 'expecting us to mingle with all the riff-raff, it is unseemly.'

'Well, Fan,' John retorted bluntly, 'I am sure they will not bite. Besides, I cannot imagine anyone being able to carry you off in that monstrosity. It's so big and fulgurant that they will be able to see you from the moon!'

Fanny stomped her foot and was about to let her catty tongue run wild, but in the nick of time, Margaret intervened with her artful diplomacy.

'Fanny, dearest, your gown is divine. You have such a…distinct style; I wish I had half of your flair for fashion. Please, we must go shopping again soon.'

Fanny stopped in her tracks and seemed mollified for a minute. She looked Margaret up and down and was miffed to see her in a simple midnight-blue dress made of silk and satin, with a sash in the shade of cornflower blue, which was gilded with flecks of silver beading, accompanied by a similar shawl of Indian muslin. From her ears hung crystal earrings and her hair shimmered with a speckle of glittering pins like shooting stars bursting into life and light. Still, what annoyed her the most was that despite Margaret's more modest attire, she was ravishing. Then, to add insult to injury, despite having just given birth to her sixth and seventh children – twins no less – she looked as thin as a broom, but with the most pleasing curves.

Fanny clicked her teeth. 'Thank you, Margaret,' she replied snippily. 'I must say, I am surprised to see you out tonight considering you only left your birthing bed four weeks ago. Your babies will wonder where you are.'

Margaret stiffened and went as pale as milk at the insinuation, her sister-in-law's comments confirming her feelings of insecurity and guilt.

'They're just fine!' John reported shortly with a fierce scowl, for he knew exactly what game his sister was playing, and he would not have Margaret bullied so churlishly. Fanny was just jealous that her waist was now the size of the equator, whilst Margaret was still as slim and sensual as ever. Well, perhaps she had gained a pound or two, but he liked it. Indeed, one would hardly know she had borne seven babies, save for the few silvery marks which decorated her belly, but as for John, he revered them, since they were secret signs for his eyes alone which told the story of how his beloved Meg had so cleverly grown their little ones and birthed them with unflinching bravery.

Glaring at his sister, John quipped grudgingly, 'Besides, I do not see your two girls here.'

But it was Watson who changed the mood, happily adding, 'Oh yes, yes! Congratulations you two. Another set of twins, boy-oh-boy! Let's just hope they are not as lively as your eldest lads, goodness me. But how splendid for you. Seven is it now? Lord! – you are breeding like rabbits.'

Margaret blushed at his implication, for even although he meant no vulgarity, his remark was still wincingly boorish. It seemed that John too had had enough of this distasteful conversation, for he abruptly bowed his head and said, 'Well, we had better get going, lots to see and do,' he explained, pulling Margaret away at a speed that bordered on being overly hasty.

'Excellent!' Watson called out after their retreating figures. 'You must join us later Thornton for the Master's tug-of-war tournament against the hands! We need your strength and stamina, old boy! It's a war, and us masters must win it, or go under!' he laughed, his voice fading away into the distance.