In Consequence: A Retelling of North and South (23 page)

                  
“Yes,” he heard himself answer unsteadily, although his entire body palpitated with the urge to take her in his arms again and never let go.

                  
He let his hand fall from her waist and took a step back, at once aware of the cold emptiness of the space between them. “I hope that nine is not too early tomorrow morning,” he stated formally, feeling his pulse slowly return to normal.

                  
“No, I shall be ready. Thank you,” she replied in a voice of feigned control.

                  
“Then I shall see you in the morning.” He glanced at her hands with longing but quickly decided he should take his leave. “Good night.”

                  
“Good night,” she echoed faintly.

                  
He turned to take up his hat and with one more lingering glance opened the door and stepped into the night.

                  
Margaret swayed, her limbs faintly trembling beneath her. Catching sight of her reflection in the gilded mirror, she raised her fingers to her flushed cheeks and gazed at her lips, remembering the tender intensity of his kisses. She felt a rush of frightened confusion and shame as she contemplated how reluctant she had been to halt his amorous attentions.

                  
She closed her eyes to regain her composure, the rushing pattern of her heartbeat beginning to subside. 

                  
When she opened her eyes, she straightened her back and bravely lifted her chin before reentering the drawing room. She reclaimed her seat and listened to the continuing conversation with affected interest.

                  
Henry frowned as he studied her. Her pink countenance was still, but her eyes strayed about the room in a vacant haze.

                  
Mr. Lennox let out a silent sigh of defeat. Margaret had given her heart to the northern manufacturer.

                  
*****

                  
Mr. Thornton dismissed the cab that had been called for him, unable to confine himself in stilted stillness on such a night.

                  
He walked with an exuberance he could not contain down the city street toward his hotel. The faint sounds of voices coming from opened windows, the occasional clattering of a passing carriage were distant and vague as he took the darkened path before him, thinking only of the woman who had chosen him above all others.

                  
The light from the gas lamps cast shadows on his face, dimly revealing the upward curve of his mouth.

The quiet of the morning was infused with an air
of excitement as Margaret threw back her covers and climbed out of bed to prepare for the long journey home. Bright sunshine already poured through the eastern windows while she padded about in her bare feet, hurrying through the motions of her toilette.

She stopped in front of the long mirror to study with new eyes the womanly curves revealed by her thin white nightdress. Spiraled tresses of auburn hair fell past her bare shoulders to rest on the pattern of lace and embroidery at her chest. Every pulse point began to pound with rising fervor as she imagined how she would feel presenting herself thus to her husband.

The entrance of the chambermaid broke her reflective stupor, and she hastened to lay out the clothes to be packed in her small trunk.

She took a few sips of tea, but the toast on the breakfast tray turned cold and hard as the maid helped Margaret lace her corset and slip into her petticoats.

The thought of spending hours in close confinement with the man she had kissed last night stirred butterflies in her stomach and made her head feel light. She endeavored to think of other things while her hair was brushed and set prettily in twisted coils upon her head, but as the hour approached when Mr. Thornton would arrive, she was scarcely articulate enough to utter heartfelt sentiments to Edith, who had appeared in her dressing gown at Margaret’s door to mournfully say her goodbyes.

Not long after, the footman announced Mr. Thornton’s arrival. Margaret took pains to descend the stairs with stately grace, quelling the schoolgirl zeal that beckoned her to hurry down the stairs.

“Good morning,” he greeted her, his tall figure standing by the open doorway.

The familiar timber of his voice, the bright sparkle in his eyes, and the slightly crooked smile — meant only for her — sent an effusion of warmth coursing through her body.

“Good morning,” Margaret returned airily, catching her breath at his ardent study of her.

She wondered if he, too, was thinking of what had passed between them hours before in this very location. Her gaze dropped to the soft curve of his mouth and she remembered with tingling clarity the tender mingling of their lips in the shadowed hallway. Her lips twitched.

His eyes darkened, and she knew at once that he well remembered their kisses last evening. She cast her eyes to the floor, feeling a flush rise to her face.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, proffering his arm to take her to the waiting carriage.

“Yes ... yes, thank you,” she stammered. His question seemed at once casual and intimate and did nothing to calm the quaver in her voice. She threaded her arm through his and they stepped out into the sunlight.

Mr. Thornton assisted Margaret in climbing into the coach and then duly took his seat beside her. Fanny and the
Lawrensons, seated across from them in the spacious cab, exchanged morning pleasantries with the newest arrival before Fanny began to mutter a litany of complaints as to why they should return home so early.

Margaret listened politely, although with divided attention. She was more aware of the seating arrangement within the cab. Unaccustomed to being seated next to any man other than her
father, she felt keenly the significance of her new relationship to the Master. From now on, this would be her place: beside him.

The notion of becoming a wife was daunting enough, but the thought taking on the role of the Master’s wife was even more intimidating. She hoped to prove herself a worthy figure for the part she would play in his life, for whoever would be Mr. Thornton’s wife would wield an influence far beyond the average housewife. The importance of his position in Milton society was undeniable, and in his hands
lay the welfare of hundreds.

Margaret surreptitiously studied Mr. Thornton’s face as he gazed out the window. The shape of his jaw and the strong angular lines of his profile were as perfect and defined as a sculpture cut from marble. Truly, there was no one like him in the world. The force and power of his character could be seen in one glance.

A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. She held her breath and felt a stirring in her breast as she considered how it was that she should be the recipient of his ardent affections. She wondered if he knew how much his very presence affected her.

If Margaret had been privy to his thoughts, she might have been surprised to discover that the man that exuded so much confidence in all his doings was still struggling to discern the success of his most earnest goal: to win the affections of the woman who was to be his wife.

Mr. Thornton could not contain the joy he felt. The events of the day before, culminating with that ecstatic taste of the physical affection he craved, sent his hopes above the clouds. To earn her love had for so long seemed a dream, he dared not believe it could be bestowed upon him this easily.

He recalled with a twinge of shame the way she had been compelled to stop his amorous attentions to her soft, beguiling lips. He knew a lady of such fine upbringing would never feel the dark, passionate need that swirled deep within him. He renewed his resolve to be patient and gentle, as she deserved, for he was secretly frightened that she would grow wary of him if he should continue to allow his passions to overrule his self-control.

                  
He could not imagine a more perfect way to spend the day than in her presence. In the public eye, there would be no opportunity to test his resolve, and he would be free to relax and enjoy her company with equanimity for the duration of the trip.

                  
Alighting from the carriage at Euston Station, they were immediately surrounded by the bustle and commotion of London’s grand terminal.

                  
The women gravitated toward the railway platform while Mr. Lawrenson headed for the ticket counter and Mr. Thornton attended to the cab and called a porter for their luggage.

                  
Fanny and Miss Lawrenson sauntered off to purchase a few magazines, promising Margaret they would return in a moment. Margaret nodded in acknowledgment, but her eyes were riveted to Mr. Thornton many yards away. She watched every movement of his tall, dark frame and the subtle expressions on his face as he hailed a porter and gave his commands. His bearing and manner exuded an authority and dignity all his own.

                  
When he finally turned to stride toward her, he caught her gaze and returned it with a smile that made her belly flutter. She stood in mute wonder at how it was that such a man had chosen her above all others.

                  
A look of concern creased his brow as he reached her side. “How is it that you are left alone?” he asked.

                  
“Fanny went to ...” She had scarcely uttered her reply when a shout filled her ears and she found herself pulled abruptly against the strong, clothed barrier of the Master’s chest.

                  
A crashing thud behind her made her body jolt. The protective arms around her tightened as the voice above her ear barked an angry warning. She felt the vibration of his vociferous speaking resonate from the depths of his broad chest, and she rested there willingly for a brief moment, nestled securely in his firm embrace as though a child taking refuge from the onslaught of the world.

                  
“I ... I’m sorry.... I didn’t see ...” the frightened young porter stuttered, trembling at the sharp remonstrance of the commanding stranger and scrambling to recover the trunks that had fallen from his hand trolley.

                  
Margaret gently pulled away from her protector’s grasp to observe the scene around her.

                  
Mr. Thornton’s eyes grazed over her form with tender longing as he reluctantly loosened his hold and let her go.

                  
“Take care not to stack your portage too high!” the Master cautioned the blundering porter, his harsh tone lessening slightly at the sight of the boy’s blanched face. “Do you not see what injury you could have caused?” he added with foreboding.

                  
“Yes, sir. It will never happen again,” the young man promised as he carefully rearranged the luggage in his care, grateful to be accorded only verbal retribution from the man before him.

                  
“Thank you,” Margaret shyly offered the man who had saved her from harm, blushing as she observed the white cotton of his shirt, where her cheek had recently rested. She remembered the crisp scent of sandalwood and the comforting feel of his firm chest against her own.

                  
Mr. Thornton’s lips curved into a smile. “It was my pleasure. I don’t believe it would have enhanced your aunt’s opinion of me if she were to discover that you had been grievously injured by wayward luggage within the first hour of my care,” he replied with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

                  
A laugh bubbled forth from Margaret’s throat. “No, it would not have,” she agreed, her eyes sparkling with delight at his humor, which instantly banished her lingering tremors of embarrassed anxiety.

                  
The others soon joined them. Fanny pouted when Mr. Lawrenson announced that first class had been filled, and that he had been forced to purchase second-class tickets. Even these compartments were partially filled, so the Milton group was forced to separate. Mr. Thornton and Margaret were obliged to sit across from a portly gentleman and his wife. A slender, fair-haired girl of about fifteen years of age fit snugly between them.

                  
After brief civilities were exchanged between the strangers, the compartment grew silent. The girl kept her gaze lowered, although Margaret smiled at spying her stealing an occasional fascinated glance at the Master, whose head was turned toward the window. Margaret, too, happily contented herself in observing the passing scenery of the city and its environs.

                  
Mr. Thornton was greatly relieved to find fortune in his favor when, at length, the girl and her parents reached their destination and no others entered the compartment to take their place.

                  
As the train slowly lurched forward once more, Margaret felt a twinge of nervousness to be left alone with the Master. After several moments of silence she began to relax, admitting to herself that it might be quite pleasant to enjoy one another’s company without the intrusion of others.