In Consequence: A Retelling of North and South (47 page)

Soon the room was filled with the murmur of voices and clinking china as guests helped themselves to the array of sumptuous refreshments served in shining silver dishes: galantines, stewed oysters, cold game, ices, and all manner of confectionaries. Margaret recalled little of the following hour, swept away by the dizzying thought of her new status as a married wife and dazzled at the notion of being seated in the elegant surroundings of her new home. She smiled to be woken from her bewildered state by the occasional squeeze of her hand by her husband when he believed such a gesture would be undetected. His touch infused her with the warmth of shared secrecy, instantly recalling her to the strong bond of their deep affection.

When the tiered cake had been cut and the guests were busily engaged in their own portion, Mr. Thornton whispered to his bride that he would slip away to change into his traveling attire so that they could make their departure. Edith and Maxwell engaged the bride in conversation as soon as he left the room, but Margaret listened distractedly as butterflies fluttered in her belly at her husband’s announcement. She felt the pang of his absence as if she had never before been parted from him.

He soon returned and, making hasty good-byes to all in attendance, ushered his wife toward the door.

Hannah Thornton clung to her son for one last parting moment as she wished the couple farewell. She prayed he would return as happy as he now appeared to be, although her heart nearly burst with sorrow at this sundering of the familiar closeness they had shared. She would hold her tears until she was alone.

Fanny and several other guests took great pleasure in showering rice upon the newlyweds as soon as they emerged outside and made their way to the waiting carriage.

Seated beside her husband inside the coach, Margaret waved final farewells and smiled at the clusters of curious onlookers gathered outside the mill gates along Marlborough Street. She felt like royalty and glowed inwardly at the perfect beauty and joy of the day.

“Are you happy?” the new husband inquired of his bride. Her every movement and expression told him that she was, but he longed to hear it from her lips.

She turned to him in some surprise. “Yes.” She could scarcely speak the joy she felt. “Very much so,” she answered, regarding him with loving eyes.

The last hour of social restraint had been almost unbearable. He could no longer resist kissing her. Willing to risk the possibility of being seen through the coach windows in broad daylight, he lifted her face to his to bestow on her a tender demonstration of his own elation that they were wed.

She closed her eyes to blissfully receive his ministrations. Utterly gentle, yet somehow electric, his kisses were magical, tingling through every nerve in her body and awakening it to strange new sensations which only his touch could ignite.

He pulled away carefully from the spell of her compliant mouth, his face hovering close to hers. Fluttering her eyes open to stare into the darkening intensity of his deep blue eyes, she discerned that her kiss must stir a similar effect within him.

They spent the remaining minutes in glorious contentment clasping hands, their fingers intimately entwined.

Upon their arrival at his bride
’s former residence, Mr. Thornton would once have bounded up the stairs, but instead took proud care to assist his bride in her voluminous gown.

Her parents were sitting in the front parlor. Fresh embraces and handshakes were shared with hearts both exultant and filled with the sweet sorrow of painful parting. Mrs. Hale was worn and tired, but her eyes sparkled with wistful satisfaction, which gave Margaret cause to breathe a prayer of thanks.

Boxes of food from the bounty of the wedding breakfast were delivered to the kitchen and the bride’s trunk loaded onto the coach, while Margaret repaired to her room to change her garments.

Mr. Thornton endeavored to answer all of Mrs.
Hale’s inquiries as to the grand fete, expending every effort to contain the bounding zeal that made sitting still a rigorous strain. From the time he set foot in the familiar Crampton home, he could not erase the upward turn at the corners of his mouth, jubilant that the time he had long awaited was near at hand. He informed his in-laws of the destination of their wedding trip, as yet undisclosed to Margaret, and promised they would return in a matter of days.

He halted his speech when Margaret appeared just inside the doorway. She wore a new merino ensemble of dove gray, which he believed she wore as elegantly as any satin gown. White ruffled lace peeked from her sleeves and along the high neckline of her closely fitted jacket. She bowed her head demurely under his ardent gaze, which merely roused within him fierce adoration of her feminine loveliness and grace. He rose to his feet and she lifted her eyes to his with hopeful trust.

His heart leapt at this supreme moment: when she would look to him as her sole protector and guide, and come away with him to be his lover and companion — his own true wife.

Final fond farewells were exchanged and Mr. Hale followed the couple to the door to watch with aching heart and lightened soul as his daughter gave him one last cheerful wave before the carriage took her away.

Settled snugly together in the closed compartment, Margaret lifted a beaming face of jubilant accomplishment to her new husband and received a lingering kiss in reward.

“Will you come with me to Scarborough, Mrs. Thornton?” he asked in the throaty urgency of his
Darkshire accent, his own face beaming with an exulting happiness to call her by his name at last.

“Is that where we are going? I’ve never been there,” she replied in faltering tones, feeling her body weaken at the sensual sound of his voice. She smiled at his delight in trying her new name on his lips.

“I wished to go somewhere I had not yet seen.”

His boyish eagerness tugged at her heart. “I will gladly go wherever you choose. Everything will be new for us from now on, will it not?” she asked. Her eyes danced in expectant joy for his reply.

“It will,” he answered with a radiant smile. His world would never be the same again. He bent to press his lips to hers, tasting in her kiss the promised bliss of a lifetime of love.

Chapter
Seventeen

The newlyweds arrived at Milton station filled with the exuberance of traveling alone together as husband and wife. If their attire gave no indication of the morning’s events, anyone with a perceptive eye could guess that the couple at the ticket counter were newly married, for not a moment passed when they were not in some way attached to the other by an affectionate grasp or touch, and as they waited for their train to arrive, the fond glances and smiles exchanged by the tall, imposing man and the young beauty at his side revealed their elation.

Once they were seated comfortably in their compartment, Mr. Thornton and his wife were content to enjoy the time in closed quarters in relative silence.

A kindly gentleman and his well-rounded wife sat across from them. Married above twenty years themselves, the travelers quietly observed the young couple’s clasped hands and the soft glow of radiant joy that illuminated their faces. They noted with particular amusement the tender solicitude that the strong-looking man rendered to his lovely companion.

Remarking upon it later, the couple from Leeds agreed that the two young lovers must have been embarking upon their honeymoon and reminisced with light hearts about the sweet bygone days of their own courtship.

An exchange of passengers having been made midway on their travels, the Thorntons were next accompanied by a tight-lipped business man who disappeared behind his newspaper after gruffly acknowledging the traveling pair.

The lovers spoke in low tones as the miles sped by and scenes of bucolic life spread outside to the horizon in unhurried glory.

Margaret pointed out a small lake to her husband, who leaned closer for a better view.

Tempted by her nearness and encouraged by the unyielding wall of newsprint guarding their privacy, Mr. Thornton began to nuzzle the soft, scented skin just behind her ear. She turned to silently scold him, glancing anxiously toward the hidden figure across from them, but her telltale smile only spurred him to continue his pursuit, and he became determined to win a clandestine kiss.

Her eyes twinkled in merriment as she knit her brow and shook her head in disapproval of his amorous intentions. He was not to be dissuaded. Seeing his wicked grin, she swiftly decided it would be best to appease him and offered her lips to his.

They dared kiss only a few seconds, but the fervency of feeling that made their lips cling longingly in secret communion left them both reeling in the quiet aftermath. They stared at one another in renewed awe at having found a matching soul.

Mr. Thornton took her small hand in his and interlaced his fingers with hers. Satisfied with this firm connection, they both returned to happily gazing out the window.

Margaret leaned her head against her husband’s shoulder in perfect peace and not long after fell asleep, more exhausted from the day’s activity than she had supposed. Mr. Thornton watched her sleeping form with reverent fascination for some time before he inclined his head near hers and followed suit.

As the train screeched to a laboring halt at York, the newlyweds were roused from their light slumber and found, much to their amusement, that their seat mate was equally encumbered with drowsiness as he also awakened from a stolen nap.

They changed trains for the last leg of their journey, and managed to keep awake to enjoy the passing views of the gently rolling hills of the Yorkshire Wolds, the gray ruins of an ancient priory, and the slow meandering of an old river.  The train stopped at several villages along the way, but it was not long before they arrived at Scarborough station.

A short cab ride took them to the largely uninhabited south side of town where the grand Crown Hotel perched majestically above grass-covered cliffs above a curved harbor below.

The carriage pulled up to the elaborate columned entrance. A sculpted black iron balcony stretched elegantly along the length of the windows above, contrasting strikingly against the pristine, white-
stuccoed structure that rose five stories high.

The interior was just as impressive. In a sea of green with rose accents, innumerable upholstered chairs and sofas were arranged in a magnificent public Drawing Room.

Stepping up to a gleaming mahogany counter, Mr. Thornton inquired after his reservations.

The concierge found the name on his list. “Ah, yes, Mr. and Mrs. Thornton, from Milton.”

The newly married groom nodded his head with a glowing smile while Margaret dipped her head in a rush of flustered exhilaration to hear a stranger’s enunciation of their intimate bond.

After Mr. Thornton discussed a few details and signed the register, the couple followed a smartly dressed porter up the grand staircase.

Their trunks were already waiting them when they arrived at the proper door on the next level. Mr. Thornton turned the brass key in the lock and smiled at his wife as he allowed her first passage through the threshold.

Margaret smiled up at him and then hastened into the room, eager to take in the view. She halted in the center of the wide, airy space and surveyed with delight the color of the walls, which imitated the warm glow of perpetual sunlight. The furniture was carved from a rich brown wood. To her left, a
sofa and soft chair were situated by a cream-colored fireplace and a desk was nestled in one corner.  Toward the far corner, a paneled screen with painted scenes partially hid a small dressing table.

Her eyes roamed to the blue and gold patterned surface of the broad
four poster bed at her right. The thoughts that came to her warmed her cheeks, and she pressed hastily forward to the long windows where embossed curtains of blue brocade were swept aside to reveal a commanding view of the bay beyond.

Mr. Thornton passed a few coins into the porter’s hands and shut the door firmly behind the d
eparting lad. His mouth curved into a smile as he gazed about the room. He was well pleased with the comfortable suite; it would be their private home for a few short, glorious days. His eyes inevitably fell to the great canopied bed, whose imperious prominence bespoke its more illustrious purpose. A frisson of simmering yearning surged through his veins before he looked up to admire the vision of his beloved framed in the late daylight.  

He moved to stand
beside her, sliding his arm around her waist as he scanned the panorama of land and sea before them.

“The view is stunning,” Margaret murmured.

He kept his gaze only a moment longer on the scene outside before he turned his attention to the beauty beside him. “It is,” he replied.

She blushed at his implied appraisal and dipped her head, but he brought her about to face him and lifted her chin with a curved finger.

Not a word was spoken as he sought to know from the depths of her blue-gray eyes if she, too, could possibly feel but a tenth part of the love which beat in his breast at this moment, the fulminating force of which made his every pulse race with the desire to take her into his arms and never let her go.

A glimmer of affection from her unfaltering gaze gave him hope that she did, and he bent to capture her lips with his.