In Consequence: A Retelling of North and South (16 page)

Her attention was quickly diverted to the unfolding discussion, however, when Mrs. Hale blithely remarked that their guest must be glad that the recent strike was over. Margaret tensed in foreboding at this turn in the conversation.

“I was horrified to hear that you were injured during the riot at your mill. I’m glad you were not seriously hurt,” Mr. Hale interjected, unknowingly heightening Margaret’s anxiety.

Mrs.
Hale’s mouth opened in shocked surprise. “I had no idea you were hurt. How utterly dreadful!” she exclaimed.

The corners of Mr. Thornton’s mouth twitched at the memory of that day. “Thankfully, it was not grievous. I will admit that to all outward appearances, the day seemed disastrous, but I’m now quite certain that the confluence of events was wrought with a fortuitous end. I believe both masters and men will work harder in the future to avoid such violence. As for me, I was well taken care of,” he added with soft smile and knowing glance at Margaret.

Margaret met his gaze with flushed embarrassment and turned her concentration to the gleaming silverware at her place, her heartbeat skittering wildly.

“I certainly hope a better understanding can be won between both sides,” Mr. Hale commented with earnestness, recalling Higgins’ vehemence against the masters.

“Margaret has always been so very upset with violence of any kind,” Mrs. Hale reminisced of her daughter’s gentle sensibilities.

“Yes, yes. As I recall, Margaret once stopped two strapping boys from coming to fisticuffs in
Helstone. I believe she placed herself between them,” Mr. Hale remarked as he searched his memory.

“Oh, Richard,” Mrs. Hale lightly chastised her husband for bringing Margaret’s rather unladylike traits to the fore.

“She couldn’t have been above ten years,” Mr. Hale continued, undaunted. “And as I understand it, she proceeded to lecture the older lads on the principles of kindness and pointed out their foolishness until they were compelled to return to their homes. Do you remember, Margaret?” her father asked expectantly.

“Yes, it was a long time ago,” she answered meekly with lowered eyes, acutely aware of Mr. Thornton’s scrutiny.

The Master’s eyes danced with mirth at the thought of a youthful Margaret’s righteous storm.

“But, truly, she has always had such a tender heart,” her mother intervened. “I was thinking of the time she nursed the
Neeland’s lamb back to health. No one else expected the poor creature to live,” she relayed, smiling sweetly at her daughter.

“It just needed some special care, and I was happy to give it,” Margaret replied, remembering fondly the time she tended to a gentle creature and how that had been the extent of her worldly concerns.

She glanced up to find Mr. Thornton studying her with such tenderness that she stilled in breathless wonder at his intensity. “I’ve no desire to be the object of her righteous wrath,” Mr. Thornton said with a growing smile, “but I’m certain that whoever receives her compassion must be blessed indeed. Milton, I believe, will be all the better for her presence here,” he finished, his eyes meeting hers with steady admiration.

Margaret ducked her head to hide the blush she felt at meeting his heated gaze.

“I should like to see Helstone some time,” he continued in a lighter tone, speaking to the family as a whole.

Margaret looked up at once in some surprise. “It is a lovely place, although it is quite small and remote. You may not find anything of particular
interest ...” she began to explain.

“It
would be of great interest to me,” he stated simply in a low voice, his sincerity undeniable.

Stunned
, her lips parted but no sound issued forth.

“Truly, it is a most out of the way place, but the air is clear and the countryside quite serene,” Mrs. Hale remarked, breaking the momentary silence with praise of her old home.

Margaret began to elaborate upon the beauty and pleasures of the place she had always held dear to her heart, and her father readily joined her. Mr. Thornton watched with fascination as Margaret’s countenance glowed with contentment as she described the aspects of the country life she had obviously so enjoyed.

Conversation flowed freely amongst the small gathering while the courses were served and the dinner consumed. When the last bite of Dixon’s delicious custard had been taken and the candles burned lower, Mrs. Hale led Margaret to the drawing room as custom dictated.

Enslaved by her tremendous beauty and the graceful manner of her every movement, Mr. Thornton’s eyes helplessly followed Margaret as she left the room. Impulse bid him to jump from his seat so that he might trail in her wake, but propriety demanded that he remain calmly situated where he was.

“May I offer you some port?” Mr. Hale suggested as the door clicked shut, bringing Mr. Thornton’s attention back to his host. “I think Dixon has unearthed a bottle from the cellar. You know I’m not much of drinking man. I’ve seen too much of what evil it can cause,” Mr. Hale explained.

His paragon pupil shook his head. “Do not trouble yourself. I’m of a mind to always keep my senses clear. I understand your reasoning. Unfortunately, for many, small indulgences often lead to greater,” he remarked gravely, remembering the drunken chaos that could be heard in a nearby dwelling when his family had lived amongst the working classes.

“Exactly so,” Mr. Hale agreed, leaning back comfortably in his chair as he looked admiringly at his younger friend. “I can’t tell you how much I shall enjoy having you as a son-in-law.”

“It will be an honor and a pleasure for me as well,” Mr. Thornton readily responded, the very thought of it filling him with a warm contentment.

“I must confess I was not aware of your interest in Margaret. I assumed she had rather put you off with her forward manner of speaking,” Mr. Hale admitted, his curiosity revealed in his eyes.

Mr. Thornton’s calm smile broke into a wider grin. “She speaks her mind, and has a care for others’ suffering. I can only admire her for that. It was her grace and beauty which first attracted me. I have not seen the like. And there is a tenderness there, underneath ... which I hope she will bestow upon me,” he revealed, his last words trailing off softly in dazed remembrance of the fleeting moments when she had lavished her care upon him. “I count myself privileged to have won her hand,” he admitted, looking to his future father-in-law with profound respect.

“Indeed,” Mr. Hale replied, as he surmised with dawning recognition how much affection the Master had for his daughter.

The room fell silent for a brief moment.

“Well, we have enough time to ourselves on a weekly basis, don’t we? Shall we rejoin the women?” Mr. Hale suggested with a kind smile.

When they entered the drawing room, Mrs. Hale smiled weakly from her chair by the fireplace while Margaret looked up from her sewing. Mr. Hale noticed his wife’s complexion had changed to one altogether more pale and sickly, and he went to her side at once.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Thornton, to cut short this lovely evening, but I’m afraid I’m feeling a little weary. I’m so very glad you could come. It has been most pleasant,” Mrs. Hale managed to announce.

“I thank you for the invitation and wish you a restful night. Do not take any more thought on my account,” their guest replied, standing somewhat awkwardly near the sofa on which Margaret was perched.

Margaret moved to attend to her mother. “Let me help you …” she offered somewhat guiltily, having been too preoccupied with
her own thoughts to have noticed her mother’s sudden weariness.

“No, I will help her, Margaret. You stay and tend to our guest,” Mr. Hale interjected. “Here, let me assist you, my dear,” he insisted as he gently helped his wife to her feet and guided her steps upstairs.

Margaret obediently lowered herself onto the sofa. The newly betrothed couple watched silently as husband and wife disappeared up the stairs. Both felt keenly the developing atmosphere of nervous apprehension between them; it was the first time they had been alone since the morning of the proposal.

Mr. Thornton glanced hopefully at Margaret who sat quite still on the half-empty damask sofa, her head bowed slightly. His heart beat thickly at the thought of his intended purpose. All that he had hoped for and dreamed of seemed suspended in breathless uncertainty before him. The moment for which he had desperately waited had arrived. He would not wait a moment more, and let this precious opportunity slip through his hands.

“May I?” he asked, the tenor of his voice scarcely hiding his tremulous vulnerability.

“Of course,” she whispered, too afraid to gaze upon the earnest pleading of his eyes that she heard in his voice. Her pulse raced madly as he sat near her, the strong, clean smell of sandalwood mingling with the fragrance from the magnificent flower arrangement he had sent.

“I must thank you for your note and the beautiful flowers. You were most kind,” she stammered, glancing at him briefly and dropping her gaze again to her hands, which, with much effort, were serenely folded on her lap.

“I wished to offer you a measure of comfort. I cannot bear to see you suffer sorrow,” he explained with unabashed honesty.

She could only flutter her eyelids in response, not knowing what to say.

“I have another gift for you ... if you will accept it,” he continued undaunted, as he pulled from his breast pocket the ring he had chosen for her. He held it out, studying her intently for her reaction.

“Oh,” she exuded, the soft sound escaping from her lips in stunned surprise. She stared at the glittering object for a moment before taking it from him at his insistent gesture. She still did not speak a word as she took in every detail, turning it in fascination as the light glinted and sparkled over the faceted gemstones. Delicate and lustrous, the elegant ring seemed a thing too marvelous for her.

“I did not expect ... you should not
have ...” she began to stutter.

“I reserve the right to bestow such a gift to one who has given me such a promise of happiness in accepting my proposal. I, for one, wish the whole world to know of it,” he answered with fervor. “Will you wear it?” he asked, laying his heart bare before her once more.

“Yes ... yes, of course,” she breathed, her stomach tightening at the import of her answer. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured.

“Allow me,” he offered as he gently took the ring from her and took her hand in his.

She trembled at his touch and endeavored to hold her hand still to receive the adornment. She shivered uncontrollably as he slowly slipped the ring onto her third finger, for it seemed the most incredibly intimate gesture. She blushed at the thought of becoming his wife.

“Do you like it?” he asked with a boyish desire to know he had chosen well. He held fast to her hand, reluctant to relinquish his contact with her.

She glanced again at the shimmering emerald and diamond jewel on her finger and smiled. “Yes, it suits me well,” she answered honestly, appraising the ring for its simple elegance and style.

With one swift motion, he raised her hand to his lips. She gasped as he placed a fervent, lingering kiss on her fingers. A scintillating sensation flowed through her arm and set the recesses of her belly afire with unexpected waves of warmth. She could not breathe.

When at last he released her hand to her lap, she was lost in the depths of his smoldering gaze.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs made her rise to her feet in flustered surprise, abashed that her father should find them in such intimate regard. Mr. Thornton rose to join her.

“Father ... is everything well?” Margaret asked as he entered the room, the waver in her voice betraying the tumult of emotion that still swelled in her breast.

“Yes, please don’t get up on my account,” Mr. Hale pleaded, although worry was etched on his face.

“I will not impose upon you any longer. As you know, I must rise early, so I believe it is best that I take my leave,” Mr. Thornton announced with great civility, although he longed to remain with every fiber of his being.

“You’re most considerate, John,” Mr. Hale related, much relieved. “It was an enjoyable evening. If you will pardon me, I am to fetch Dixon. Margaret, will you see Mr. Thornton to the door?” he added graciously, before making his way to the kitchen.

Margaret followed Mr. Thornton to the hallway to bid him good night. He turned to face her and her stomach fluttered in nervous response. “Thank you” he uttered simply, unable to explain in a formal effusion of words how much the evening had meant to him.

“It was a wonderful evening, I’m glad you came,” she offered in practiced civility, although her tone was warm and sincere. A smile graced her lips.

Drawn like a magnet to those lips that had spoken to him so sweetly, he took a step forward and gently grasped her arm.

The shock of his touch on her bare arm jolted her and he halted his advance, realizing his error. With reluctance, he slowly let his hand slide down the length of her arm to take her hand within
his, unknowingly sending tingling shivers through her whole body.

He brushed his thumb over the protruding ring in contemplation of her promise. How he yearned to discard his restraint and boldly take her into his arms to feel the press of her form against his! She would be his; he need only be patient and try to win her heart, he told himself. He sighed inwardly and brought her hand to his lips once more to kiss her unadorned fingers with fervent gratitude.