In Consequence: A Retelling of North and South (25 page)

                  
She was so innocent and beautiful! His heart ached with the love that swelled within him. How he longed to care for her and keep her always by his side. He gently squeezed the frail hand within his grasp.

                  
He felt an exalting happiness to consider how much things had changed between them. Having for so long received only her pointed reproach, he marveled at the pleasant conversation and fond gestures which now seemed to constitute their relationship. That he had gained her affection in some small way was a constant wonder to him and filled him with an extraordinary hope of earning more of her affection and regard.

                  
Miles of undulating landscape passed by as the Master quietly relished every moment of this sublime privilege.

                  
When the train slowed and the wheels began to squeak in reluctant compliance, Margaret’s eyes fluttered open in dazed confusion. She stared at her hand, still held loosely in Mr. Thornton’s. Lifting her head from his shoulder and sitting up straight, she gave him a sheepish smile. The look of love in his eyes was unmistakable, filling her with warm contentment. She felt more rested and secure than she had in many long months.

                  
“Where are we?” she asked groggily, scanning the horizon for any hint of Milton.

                  
“Less than an hour from home,” he answered gently, never taking his eyes off her. He hated to think of reaching their destination, wishing the day might never end.

                  
Their hands parted soundlessly as the compartment door was opened and two strapping young men clambered in.

                  
“Pardon, miss,” they apologized, whisking their caps from their heads. “Good day, sir,” they added eagerly to the imposing stranger as they seated themselves across from the finely dressed couple.

                  
The Master and his companion glanced at each other in some surprise. Obviously, these young fellows had mistakenly climbed aboard in the wrong section. Their country clothes and the dried mud on their boots marked them as third-class travelers.

                  
The engaged couple’s surprise turned quickly to amusement, their lips curving upward and their eyes dancing in shared delight. Margaret smiled at the scraggly new arrivals, remembering fondly the farmers she had known in Helstone.

                  
The ruddy-faced newcomers talked animatedly with one another as the train began to roll once more through the countryside, leaving Margaret and Mr. Thornton to silently gaze out the window.

                  
When it became apparent the lads intended to establish themselves in the city, Mr. Thornton spoke up. “You’re of a mind to find work in Milton?” he inquired curiously, admiring their fresh determination.

                  
Shocked momentarily at this direct inquiry, their mouths hung open for a second before they exchanged a glance and answered in kind. “That we are. We have worked the fields all our lives, but my cousin and I have turned twenty-one now, and we mean to make our living in the city,” the stockier boy with reddish curls replied.

                  
“But isn’t it nearly harvest time?” Margaret interjected. “Won’t you be needed at home?”

                  
“My father has plenty of help from my brothers and cousins,” the young man answered, bringing his polite gaze to the elegant-looking lady across from him. “Eddy and I made a pact long ago that as soon as we both had come of age, we would make our own way. Eddy here has just had his birthday this week,” the red-haired one explained, making Eddy withdraw in some embarrassment.

                  
Margaret nodded her felicitations.

                  
“If you come to Marlborough Mills when you are settled, I can offer you work,” the Master proposed simply to the astonishment of the two ambitious country lads.

                  
They sputtered out an effusion of grateful thanks, promising to be stalwart and dependable workers in whatever task they were given.

                  
Margaret studied her future husband in quiet admiration as he calmly dismissed the tumult of excitement his offer had aroused with a nod of his head and returned his attention to the woman beside him.

                  
“I believe you have made them very happy,” she whispered under the din of their companions’ eager chattering, her eyes shining up at him.

                  
“I would hire all the field workers of Cheshire to receive such a smile from you,” he answered in a low voice, beaming at her bashful reaction.

                  
“But it is very likely they do not have any skills for spinning or weaving,” she posed more thoughtfully, looking to him curiously.

                  
“They could do no worse than my Irish,” the Master retorted wryly. “There is always much hauling to be done.”

                  
“But you know nothing about them,” she countered in lowered tones, still surprised at his readiness to hire these unknown youths.

                  
“I know they are no strangers to hard work. And look ...” he said, gesturing to a small pile of worn leather books, bound with a strap next to the quieter lad.

                  
Margaret noted the books and read the embossed letters of the volume on top —
The Holy Bible
. She looked back at the Master and they smiled together in shared secrecy.

                  
Later, as they drew nearer the smoky clouds of Milton, Margaret exclaimed over the green hills just outside the city. She had not noticed before the beauty of the surrounding area. As the tall outlines and shapes of the city became visible, Mr. Thornton pointed out the landmarks familiar to him and singled out which smokestacks were those of Marlborough Mills.

                  
Margaret endeavored to listen attentively to his every word, but was mildly distracted whenever Mr. Thornton’s arm extended in front of her. She could not help noticing the shape of his strong hands and the slender length of his fingers. She recalled how the muscles of his forearm, now hidden under black sleeves, had appeared the day she had arrived unannounced at his office. The vivid memory of being taken violently into those arms returned to her in a flash, and she blushed at her thoughts, her heart beating quickly at his very nearness.

                  
When the train at last halted in Milton with a loud hiss, Margaret felt a strain of sadness sweep over her. They were home.

                  
*****

                  
Fanny wrinkled her nose at the ghastly sights of the open marketplace on the crowded street as the cab maneuvered its way to the Hale’s residence.

                  
The betrothed couple was silent as their long journey together approached its end.

                  
Mr. Thornton helped Margaret alight from the coach and took it upon himself to carry her bags, waiving the driver’s assistance.

                  
“Thank you,” Margaret uttered nervously once he had set the luggage down in the narrow entrance hall. She studiously avoided his gaze, flustered to find herself alone with him at this juncture. “I had a pleasant time. It was very kind of you....”

                  
The words died from her lips as he took two purposeful strides and pulled her to him.

                  
Her heart beat erratically as she met his searing gaze, feeling a certain bliss at being held within his grasp. She glanced feebly at his lips as they began to draw nearer.

                  
“Margaret … is that you?” Mr. Hale called out cheerfully from the top landing.

                  
Their eyes locked in a shared pain of longing. “Yes,” she managed to return shakily, lost in the intensity of his hungering stare.

                  
They remained frozen in place for a few seconds as her father’s footsteps could be heard as he clambered down the stairs. With great force of will, Mr. Thornton released his hold and stepped back just as Mr. Hale rounded the corner.

                  
“John! I didn’t expect to see you here...” Mr. Hale exclaimed with some surprise.

                  
“We met Mr. Thornton at the exhibition. He was kind enough to offer me escort home so that Captain Lennox might be spared the trip,” Margaret endeavored to explain with calm assurance, although she fairly trembled.

                  
“Very good, very good. Thank you for bringing her home; I am much obliged to you,” Mr. Hale said warmly to his future son-in-law.

                  
“It was my pleasure,” Mr. Thornton returned, sending a meaningful glance past the former vicar to his beautiful daughter.

                  
“You must tell me all about the exhibition, John. Will you come to your lesson tomorrow evening, then?” Mr. Hale asked.

                  
“I will do my best to make my usual appointment. I look forward to it,” he answered.

                  
“Very well, then. We shall see you tomorrow.”

                  
“Good day,” Mr. Thornton uttered with a strained smile. The distracted couple exchanged one last look of wistful yearning before he turned to leave, knowing that Fanny would be waiting.

                  
Mr. Thornton had scarcely shut the door when Mr. Hale began speaking in earnest to Margaret, telling her how much her mother was looking forward to her return.

                  
Margaret followed her father up the stairs with heavy steps. She looked back to where the Master had stood only moments before, feeling a foolish impulse to rush after him, if only to catch a glimpse of him from the window. But she dutifully trudged onward.

                  
And so she spent the afternoon keeping company with her parents, recounting the sights and scenes of her visit to London. She was pleased to be home again, and her smiles were unaffected and sincere, yet her mood was strangely tainted with an underlying sorrow. She could not forget the pleasant closeness she had shared with Mr. Thornton this day and tried to imagine what he might be doing only two miles away at Marlborough Mills.

                  
Ashamed and bewildered by her drifting thoughts, she renewed her efforts to enjoy the present conversation with her family.

                  
*****

                  
The Master swept through his factory with a steely gaze, ensuring that all were at their stations and the machinery was in proper order. The commotion and activity of a hundred laboring looms engulfed him, but the sound that lingered in his mind was soft and sweet. His eyes grew vacant and his steps slackened as he clung to the memory of her mellifluous voice, rising and falling in hushed tones in their private sanctuary. No jarring clamor or tedious roar could erase from his consciousness those sacred moments when she had gently confided in him.

                  
They had scarcely been apart for an hour now, yet his hand opened and clenched restlessly as he continued to make his rounds, longing for the feel of her smooth hand in his.

                  
The day that had seemed so full of promise and delight now seemed barren and common. He reasoned that he should be grateful for the glorious time spent in her close company, but he could not banish the constant yearning to see her.

                  
He carried on his tasks at the mill with mindless precision. The undiscerning onlooker might detect no variation in the stern visage of the mill owner, but as the afternoon wore on, the pain of longing sometimes seized him with surprising force, and he was compelled to close his eyes to calm the rising tide of his emotion.

                  
Mr. Thornton was alarmed to discover his need for her becoming ever more insatiable; he was certain there could be no remedy. It was an ache he knew he must endure until they were wedded and he could finally claim her as his own — in heart, and soul, and body.

Margaret greeted the morning with fresh vitality. The regular pattern of daily life no longer seemed tedious; small incidents that she might have sighed over in days past were met with buoyant resilience. She happily swept the kitchen floor when she discovered Dixon muttering at some spilled flour, thus eliciting a few kind words from the overwrought servant. After the morning tea had been prepared, Margaret found herself humming as she carried the breakfast tray up to her mother’s room.

Mrs. Hale smiled upon her entrance. “I believe your stay in London has done you good, Margaret. I’m certain it has cheered you to see Edith again. You must tell me all about her plans for the babe that is to arrive,” she insisted.