In Consequence: A Retelling of North and South (22 page)

                  
“And what of you, Margaret? What captured your fancy amongst all you saw today?” Henry asked, seated at her elbow.

                  
Mr. Thornton set his fork down, singularly interested in her response.

                  
“I was glad to learn more of the workings within our cotton mills in Milton,” she said, flashing a demure glance across the table at her intended. “I found the daguerreotypes in the American exhibit of great interest. To see the staunch faces of those very like us from across the sea gave me pause to think of how similar we all are in our deepest nature.

                  
But, to be perfectly honest, above all else, I very much enjoyed the stained glass exhibit in the upper galleries this morning. It was as if I were standing in a glorious chapel of light and color, open for all the world to worship the beauty of our common unity,” she said with reverent reflection.

                  
Mr. Thornton’s eyes shone with hungering fascination. She would never cease to amaze him.

                  
“And, indeed, all the world was there,” Mr. Colthurst proclaimed. “People from all of Europe and some distant lands are coming to see what our great nation has produced,” he continued proudly.

                  
“We are the envy of the world,” Mr. Thornton agreed. “We can hope that our model of free trade and efficient capitalism will inspire others to rise and be included in the great progress of our time.  Here, industry and invention give substance to our scientific advances and we move forward to create what had not been possible in past generations.”

                  
“And it is in Milton, Lancashire that our nation is rushing forth to meet this future. I am very interested to learn more of your industry, Mr. Thornton,” the Member of the House of Lords responded.

                  
Margaret smiled, remembering how surprised Aunt Shaw and the others had been when Mr. Colthurst had recognized Mr. Thornton’s name upon their introductions.

                  
Margaret eyed her betrothed with admiration. He looked every inch the gentleman in his silver waistcoat and cravat. In truth, she thought him the most intelligent and regal man in the room. She began to feel a repugnance for the delineation of men by such terms as ‘tradesman’ and ‘gentleman,’ so blithely used in genteel society. The man before her seemed to defy all common definition.

                  
“I find it hard to imagine the cities leading us into the future should be so devoid of culture and education,” Henry interpolated with barely hidden conceit.

                  
Mr. Thornton looked to his inquisitor with cold amusement at his petty volleys. “There you are wrong, Mr. Lennox. Although I’m certain no city could replace London as a center of our great culture, Milton has all of the components of a modern city. We have long had an art gallery, built the same year as the National in London. We have several concert halls, and a new theatre was built only a few years ago,” he responded with unruffled poise.

                  
“It has been a practice for centuries for wealthy businessman in our area to aid in the education and culture of her people. Milton Grammar School, which I attended as a lad, is such an example. It was founded in the sixteenth century by Mr. Oldham, whose corn mills made him extremely wealthy. He endowed the school so that any academic boy, however poor, might have a free education and be given a bursary to attend Oxford or Cambridge,” Mr. Thornton explained. “Right next to the school is a free library, which was funded by a rich textile manufacturer. It happens to be the oldest civic library in the world. So, you see, our Milton culture and education is not as backward as one might think,” he finished with a civil smile.

                  
“And were you, Mr. Thornton, able to attend Cambridge or Oxford?” Mr. Colthurst asked.

                  
A rueful expression changed Mr. Thornton’s countenance. “No. I had dreams of attending one day, but unfavorable circumstances arose in my family that required me to forgo my studies and enter business.”

                  
Margaret’s heart twisted at the touch of melancholy she discerned in his voice. The others did not know how much he had suffered and struggled to reach the stature he now held.

                  
“I had assumed the workers in your mill would be largely uneducated. Do you mean to tell us that the men who tend your machines are well-read?” Captain Lennox inquired, rather confused. “Some believe, of course, that we increase the danger of riots and upheaval if the underclasses are too learned.” Aunt Shaw’s brow creased at this common concern.

                  
“I am not opposed to the education of my workers. Far from it, I should prefer more acute minds to tend to my machines than the dullard and slacker who has no interest in bettering himself. However, it is not my business to know what my employees do with their own time,” the Master responded evenly. His eyes flew to Margaret. “I believe Miss Hale may have a more open opinion on the matter,” he stated carefully, giving her a look of encouragement and respect.

                  
Margaret met his gaze briefly before directing her answer to those gathered at the table. “I certainly do not condone leaving grown men and women in ignorance. Many of the workers can read and write, but they have not the benefit of further instruction that would perhaps lead them into being more useful. I do not suggest at this time that the masters provide for their education, but I cannot help but believe that it would be beneficial to all if these people were accorded more respect and brought into some understanding of the masters’ decisions in matters that greatly affect them,” she declared with confidence.

                  
Mr. Thornton glowed with pride at her ability to aptly contribute her thoughts to the issues at hand.

                  
Henry observed with discomfort the silent understanding that seemed to exist between the two. He began to feel the hollow futility of dissuading Margaret from her decision.

                  
“You may be right, Miss Hale,” Mr. Colthurst commended her. “Sometimes the observations of a newcomer can discern the crux of the matter. I daresay I had not expected to hear such an insightful recommendation from a woman,” he added with a cheering smile. He raised his glass to her and took a swig.

                  
*****

                  
Margaret listened with increasing impatience to Edith’s chatter about setting up a nursery for the babe that would arrive in half a year’s time. She had already endured the long rehearsal of the shopping she should do in preparation for her wedding.

                  
The men had remained in the dining room for some time now, and Margaret found herself glancing at the drawing room entrance often, straining to hear the low timber of muffled sound behind the heavy oak doors across the hallway.

                  
Her head snapped to attention the instant she heard the door click open. The clear tones of Mr. Colthurst’s voice tumbled out. “I must say I did not know half of the issues that you must contend with in your industry.  I don’t believe I’ve ever had it explained to me in such a precise way. It is really quite extraordinary to learn it first-hand from one such as yourself. I appreciate your patience in answering the tedious questions of a member of the old guard,” he thanked Mr. Thornton heartily as they entered the quieted atmosphere of the drawing room.

                  
“I’m pleased you found the subject engaging,” the Master replied smoothly without a trace of self-aggrandizement.

                  
Margaret gazed at him in wonderment. Not only did he speak with easy confidence among the masters in Milton, but he conversed with figures of prestige and power with a natural grace and eloquence refreshingly free of false meekness or tiresome vainglory. He walked among men as one true to himself, needing no verification from others as to his dignity and worth.

                  
As she regarded him thus from a distance, his eyes met hers and she felt her belly flutter in response.

                  
“You must excuse me, Anna, for taking leave of your dinner party so early,” Mr. Colthurst apologized as he approached Aunt Shaw. “I promised my wife I would return home before erelong and I do not disown that I have been a gadabout recently. It was a great pleasure to see you again. I am now assured that the Beresford line lives on in elegance,” he said, bowing to his hostess.

                  
“Mr. Thornton,” he declared when it came time to address the Milton manufacturer, shaking his hand firmly. “I hope to one day visit your mill and see Milton for myself,” he declared.

                  
“You are welcome at Marlborough Mills at any time,” the Master assured him.

                  
“Miss Hale. Delighted to make your acquaintance,” he said, bowing over her hand. “I hope we shall meet again.” He quickly glanced at Mr. Thornton then back to Margaret. “A splendid match, I am sure,” he offered with a hearty grin, causing heat to rise to Margaret’s cheeks as the Master smiled his agreement.

                  
After Mr. Colthurst departed, the remaining party continued to talk of the sights they had seen that day and the crowds that had invariably come from all parts of the country. Both visitors from Milton readily joined in the discussion, although their minds were more distracted than usual by the proximity of being seated next to each other on the velvet covered sofa.

                  
When the clock from the mantel chimed the tenth hour, Mr. Thornton reluctantly stood to take his leave, apologizing for needing to catch a morning train to Milton.

                  
“Oh, must you leave tomorrow, Margaret, at such a dreadfully early hour?” Edith complained. She had hoped to keep Margaret in London one more day, but Mr. Thornton had happily offered to have Margaret join his company in returning to Milton the next morning.

                  
“I don’t wish to stay away from Mother long. She is not well,” Margaret reminded her cousin in soft tones, although her reasons for wanting to return home were not so easily explained.

                  
After Mr. Thornton had given the proper goodbyes, Margaret followed him to the grand entrance hall, the sound of her swishing skirts accompanying them.

                  
“Are you certain you wish to return tomorrow?” he asked quietly as he turned to face her near the door. “I cannot help but think you are well-suited to such surroundings,” he uttered with reticence. Indeed, as she stood there before him in her elegant gown, she seemed to match the sophisticated grandeur and beauty of this place. Nothing in Milton could match the ease and style which seemed so becoming to her in this society.

                  
“What, will you leave me here where fashion and display are mistaken for substance and men are satisfied to expostulate and theorize over what others have accomplished?” she asked with a playful gleam in her eyes. “No, I much prefer to return home with my northern manufacturer,” she answered, openly meeting his startled gaze with an enchanting smile.

                  
“Margaret!” he exclaimed hoarsely and instinctively took a step nearer. The force of her declaration touched him to the core, taking away all power of speech. Captivated by her bright upturned face, he could think of only one way to reply.

                  
With reverent care, he took her face into his hand, feeling the soft silkiness of her cheek against his skin. He reached out tremblingly to place his other hand at the curve of her waist.

                  
He waited; she did not move nor resist, but kept her eyes fastened on his in breathless expectation.

                  
His heart hammered as he slowly brought his mouth closer to the cherub lips that he ached to posses. He hesitated one last time, but she had already closed her eyes in anticipation of his touch.

                  
His lips found hers and a shock of a thousand tiny explosions coursed through his veins, bringing his whole body to life as it never had been before.

                  
He kissed her again and again, gently at first and then with increasing fervor, hungrily seeking to fill his need. And when he felt the brush of her lips moving against his own, a cry of desperate ecstasy resounded within him to feel the tenderness for which his soul had ached so long. His hand slid around her waist to pull her closer.

                  
He felt his self-control swiftly unraveling as the intoxicating bliss of her kisses made him dizzy with desire. His pulse raced and he sought her lips with more abandon until a firm pressure against his chest bade him stop.

                  
He dropped his hand from her cheek as she gently pushed him away, her face flushed with a rosy glow. “You should go,” she whispered, glancing nervously toward the drawing room.