In Consequence: A Retelling of North and South (32 page)

Margaret faltered, overwhelmed to think of the fuss and formality that such an occasion would engender under Mrs. Thornton’s providence. “I don’t know … I suppose there ought to be, but my mother….”

“Surely, your mother will want everything done to show John’s high standing in Milton society,” Hannah Thornton assured, eager to remind the girl of the social obligations her new stature would require.

“Yes, of course,” Margaret conceded helplessly as any dreams of a simple, uncomplicated affair began to swiftly dissipate.

Mrs. Thornton asked a great many questions to which Margaret felt less than adequate to reply. It was decided that Mrs. Thornton should visit Mrs. Hale to apprise the mother of the bride of all the details in planning. However, the first order of the day was to compile the guest list.

Fanny entered the drawing room as this conversation ensued, and cast an inquiring glance at her mother before greeting their guest. “Miss … Margaret,” Fanny began politely, “have you come to tea?”

“Margaret has come to discuss details concerning the wedding,” her mother answered. “They are to marry before the month has passed,” she informed her daughter with a wary glance.

“So soon!” the younger girl burst forth with an incredulous flick of her blond curls as she flounced down onto the sofa next to her mother. “But there is so much to prepare … your trousseau, your gown, the wedding breakfast! How will you manage to be ready in a few weeks? I should imagine it would take months to settle everything just as it ought to be,” she declared with certainty.

“I realize it may seem hastily planned, but ...” Margaret began to explain.

“Mrs. Hale has requested the date, Fanny. We will respect her wishes,” Mrs. Thornton intervened, giving her daughter a reproving look.

“Oh … I see,” Fanny responded despondently, although a crease of confusion lingered on her dainty brow.

Margaret breathed a silent sigh of relief, grateful for the elder woman’s discretion. With a brighter smile, she addressed her future sister-in-law. “I will need your help, along
with  that of your mother. I will be very grateful for whatever assistance you can offer. I’m certain you both know much better than my mother and I where to find the best goods and services in Milton.”

“Oh yes, we buy only from the best dealers in all things,” Fanny assured her, jutting her chin faintly aloft with a confident smile.

Margaret smiled politely. “I’m glad you arrived home, for I have a favor to ask of you,” she began, gazing at her hands which were clasped tightly in her lap. “It will please me very much if you will consider being one of my bridesmaids,” the bride-to-be invited, looking at her future sister-in-law with a kindly gleam in her eye.

A beaming smile lifted Fanny’s features as she held her head higher with self-importance. “Of course, I should be glad to accept,” she answered formally, already anticipating the occasion to appear before all of Milton in a sumptuous new gown.

The three women were soon consumed in enumerating the tasks that must be accomplished and the best way to divide their efforts when Margaret raised her face at the sound of footsteps approaching the room.

Hannah Thornton knew instinctively the sound of her son’s footsteps, but was taken aback by the expression that came over the betrothed girl’s face. The vicar’s daughter fairly glowed with tender adoration as she welcomed her intended with a soft smile and reverent eyes. Mrs. Thornton cast a backward glance at her son, whose own face seemed to radiate in answering accord. She raised her brows in astonishment at this sudden insight. Perhaps their feelings ran deeper than she had allowed.  A disquieting feeling tugged at her heart at the thought that she was to be displaced from his affections.

“Oh, John, it is quite astounding … you are to be married by the end of this month! And for so long I thought you would never stand at the altar!” Fanny declared, still nonplused at the rush of events.

“I had not yet met the right woman,” he replied smoothly with a grin, his warm gaze resting on Margaret. His heart lifted to see her situated so naturally in his home, and beat in fervent anticipation to imagine coming home to such a scene every day.

Margaret dropped her gaze at his intimate tone, a warm rush flooding her with timid happiness.

“Why have you come at his hour?” his mother directly inquired, still studying the transformation of her son in Miss
Hale’s presence with a discerning eye.

“I’ve come to escort Miss Hale to the vicar so that we may arrange the date of our nuptials,” he answered, unable to restrain the joy that charged through him upon voicing his intent.

“Forgive me,” Margaret demurred to the women seated before her. “I asked Mr. Thornton to come at this time. I thought it was imperative that we visit the vicar so that we may set the date and time in order to send out the invitations quickly,” she explained as she rose to her feet. “Thank you for being so obliging to my requests. You have been very helpful.”

“Yes, of course,” Mrs. Thornton replied, now examining closely the woman who would be her son’s wife. The skeptical mother was pressed to admit that Margaret’s charms seemed genuine. No longer the haughty girl who looked down upon her son’s position, she had been all grace and conciliatory kindness, soft-spoken yet bravely resolute. There was reason to hope that Miss Hale might make a good match for her son.

Fanny watched with some surprise as her brother fondly stretched out his hand to take Miss Hale’s hand in his. Such a display of gallant affection seemed wholly out of keeping with her brother’s usual stiff demeanor. She looked to her mother, who seemed equally nonplused.

*****

The couple beamed happily as they walked arm-in-arm to the vicarage. They exchanged a few words about Mrs. Thornton’s reception of their news, and lapsed into quiet contentment as they ambled down the streets together toward their destination. They stole silent glances at each other, their faces illuminated in shared joy and wonderment whenever their eyes met.

Mr. Thornton rung the bell at a handsome brick house near Milton’s grandest church and was greeted by the vicar himself at the door.

“Mr. Thornton, I received your message. I’m glad I can be of service,” a sturdy man with kindly eyes and graying hair replied with vigor as the two men shook hands.

“Reverend Talbot, allow me to introduce Miss Hale, who has done me the great honor of agreeing to be my wife,” the Master announced, smiling broadly as Margaret demurely bowed her head.

“Miss Hale,” the vicar acknowledged, extending his hand to Margaret before gesturing for them to join him in his library.

A little while later, seated behind his desk, Rev. Talbot peered over his spectacles to survey the young couple seated attentively on the small sofa in front of him. A knowing grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he noted the respected manufacturer’s hand clasped gently over the dainty hand of the girl beside him. His wife would be eager to learn that the long-sought-after bachelor had finally been won, he mused with satisfaction. A devoted husband himself of many years, he reveled in the pleasure of these moments, when his duties called him to witness the sacred beginnings of a lifetime of devotion.

*****

Stepping out into the daylight again, the couple flashed each other a delighted smile, buoyant in the knowledge of what they had just done. Time was the only obstacle remaining to their eventual union.

They walked in silence, content in the simple pleasure of being together, each consumed in joyous, dizzying contemplation of their converging future. When they reached the point where their paths must part, Margaret slowly slipped her hand from his arm.

Mr. Thornton grasped at her hand, reluctant to relinquish contact with her just yet. “We will be wed three weeks from this very day,” he stated quietly in awe, seeking her assurance that he was not walking in some fantastical dream.

“Yes,” she answered softly, no longer able to hide the affection that shone in her eyes.

Love, wonder, and desire blazed in his answering stare, causing something deep within her to ache with emotion. She knew that he, too, yearned for the time when they could be alone, never to part again.

Mr. Thornton’s every impulse screamed to take her in his arms and kiss her, but he reluctantly released her hand as nameless figures passed them by, heedless of their private strain of emotion.

Margaret gave him a final look of tender sympathy and turned to go.

Mr. Thornton stood rooted to the ground, watching her go for a brief moment before forcing himself to follow the path to his familiar solitude. He took a few steps and then craned his neck to take one last glance, entranced by the sight of her graceful figure retreating down the street.

Against all her well-trained sense of propriety, Margaret stopped to look back at him. A smile illuminated her face as she met his adoring gaze for a moment, then she demurely turned to resume her course.

A flood of strong feeling washed over him as he continued toward his mill. Her tender glances, soft whispers, and fond embraces were all for him — and promised to him forevermore. The corners of his mouth lifted in irrepressible happiness.

*****

A strange silence charged the atmosphere at dinner that evening at Marlborough Mills as Mr. Thornton began to partake of his soup, unaware that his mother and sister were exchanging glances and surreptitiously studying his light-hearted manner. Nothing could diminish the bounding joy that surged through him this momentous day. He cared nothing for what others might say concerning the rapid development of events when they were so decidedly in his favor. He reveled in contemplation of the time when Margaret would lend her grace and buoyant presence to their mundane family dinners.

Fanny could not stomach the torturous quiet of her elders and spoke as if to break their reluctance in discussing the difficulties of their new situation. “I still do not see why everything should be so rushed!  How can Mrs. Hale expect to create a decent wedding with so little time to prepare!” she complained, shaking her head in haughty disbelief.

“Fanny, Mrs. Hale is gravely ill,” her brother sharply scolded, his eyes flaring with anger. “I’m certain that even you can understand her desire to see her daughter married,” he finished coolly, his indignation roused at her thoughtlessness.

He turned his attention to his mother. “You have planned our great dinner party every summer for years. Cannot the wedding be arranged in similar fashion?” he queried honestly, laying great faith in his mother’s efficiency and attention to detail.

Hannah’s eyes widened in doubt at her son’s assumption, but felt the confidence he placed on her ability. “There are a great many more incidentals to consider for a wedding. I have been asked to help, John, not to usurp the decisions which rightly belong to the bride and her mother,” she countered. “But I will do everything in my power to ensure that everything is done well,” she added, seeing the gathering crease of concern on his brow. “No one will speak of your wedding as anything common. Everything must be done in a style that befits your standing. It will be the talk of the season — and beyond,” she declared with conviction.

“But I can’t imagine that Margaret will be able to go to London for her dress at this late date. I shall hardly have time to have a new gown made for myself. It is all still very distressing,” Fanny declared, jutting her chin aloft in proud defense of her original opinions.

Mr. Thornton’s face changed as he gave this concern his full consideration. He did not wish to see his betrothed packed off to London to secure a gown. Nor did he wish for her to settle for anything beneath her exceptional beauty. “You must know the best dress-makers in Milton,” he responded, looking back and forth between the two women. “I wish for the services of the best seamstress to be secured for Margaret’s gown — exclusively, if necessary. Will you see to it, Mother?” he implored decisively.

“Yes, of course, John. If you wish it,” she replied, knowing well that her son would brook no argument.

Fanny peered at her brother in wonder at his firm command over matters that had never interested him before.

Silence ensued for some time until Hannah Thornton began to consider other changes that must shortly come about. “We must also make arrangements for Miss Hale at our home. There will hardly be time to set up a room for her with all the wedding details to attend to,” she said, certain her son had little idea of the tasks that lay ahead of her.

“Surely, there is no need …” Mr. Thornton replied, hiding his alarm at this startling notion.

Hannah Thornton looked at her son in some surprise. “She will want a sitting room at the very least. We have the space to afford her a proper lady’s quarters,” she explained.

“Very well,” he conceded with reluctance, glancing anxiously at his sister, whom he knew was listening to every word. He would not press the matter further, but felt a stab of panic at the thought of being separated from his wife after a long day at the mill.

When the evening came to a close, and Fanny and the servants headed for bed after listening to passages from the Old Testament, Mr. Thornton stayed in the drawing room to talk to his mother.

“Will you meet with Mrs. Hale tomorrow?” he asked, impatient to know that all would be done without delay.