It inevitably passed through Margaret’s mind that she would dislike living in such a home. It expressed precisely the inhabitants’ excessive attention to order and efficiency, and particularly reflected Mrs. Thornton’s cool temperament. She shuddered to think of being encased in such an environment.
The three of them turned to the long windows overlooking the mill yard, marveling at the sound of activity beyond the brick walls of the mill.
Mrs. Thornton entered with a rustling of her black bombazine skirts, and Fanny followed in a pale blue dress with layered ruffles and lace, her smile tenuous, like her mother’s.
Mr. Hale was introduced to the Thornton women, and they all took a seat. Two neatly dressed servants brought in the tea trays. Mrs. Hale eagerly examined with approval all the delicacies offered: almond cake with dusted sugar, custard tarts, finger sandwiches of several kinds, and the obligatory scones with clotted cream and jam. The odor of sugary sweets mingled with the aroma of the steaming tea.
“Forgive me for asking, but I’ve always lived in more country settings. Do all the manufacturers live so very close to their places of industry?” Mrs. Hale asked, settling her skirts around her.
“I can’t say what other manufacturers do, I can only say that it is a very fine convenience for my son to live where he can watch carefully over all his operations,” Mrs. Thornton answered.
“Yes, I’m sure it must be so,” Mrs. Hale agreed, looking furtively at Margaret. “However, do you not find the noise to be…distracting?” she asked as she chose a few sandwiches for her plate.
“It is indeed a terrible distraction,” Fanny piped up, ignoring her mother’s frown. “In the summer, we must keep our windows open, and the clanking continues from dawn to dusk. Mr. Hamper has a very nice house just outside town, although he runs a cotton mill.”
“I find the industrious tenor here invigorating,” Mr. Hale interjected, uncomfortable with the strain developing in the conversation. “And there is a spirit of constant moving; the future is at one’s feet here,” he said, taking the teacup Mrs. Thornton offered him.
“Exactly so,” Mrs. Thornton answered, her chin lifting as she appraised the old vicar. “My son is involved in forwarding the future of England. It is not all leisure and beauty here, I grant, but what the scale of production has accomplished here is the envy of the world. The sound of the working mill is a pleasure to me, for it reminds me of the great work being done.”
Mrs. Hale glanced at her daughter with a doubtful face, but Margaret accepted the words spoken as possible truth for such a proud mother.
“I must say I am impressed that a busy man such as Mr. Thornton makes the time to learn the classics.” Mr. Hale enthused. “I thoroughly enjoy our discussions.”
“I know he also enjoys it. However, I will confess that I did not approve of his taking up lessons when he should have only one focus: to maintain and grow his enterprise and its reputation around the world,” Mrs. Thornton returned.
Mr. Hale and Margaret exchanged a dubious glance before Mr. Hale bit into his scone.
“I see you doubt my statement, but you would hardly be expected to know that in faraway places, my son’s name is known and respected,” Mrs. Thornton coolly explained.
“Well, at any rate, I am pleased he comes. In my opinion, it is good for the intellect and the soul to attend to the vigor of philosophy and moral conscience. One can’t always be fixated on business,” he replied somewhat cautiously, with an encouraging smile.
Mrs. Thornton appeared unmoved.
Mr. Hale cleared his throat. “I hope Mr. Thornton will continue to make it to his lessons with me. I’m sorry he could not make it this week. I hope he will be able to come next Thursday?” he ended with a query, setting his empty teacup down.
Mrs. Thornton reached for the silver teapot to refill her guest’s cup. “My son’s time is valuable, and his priority is the running of the mill. There have been developments in the cotton market that require his attention. Disturbances regarding the possible extension of slavery in America to other states have caused many here to call for curtailing our connection to American suppliers,” she answered. “You see now how John is not merely overseeing matters here in Milton, but must necessarily be involved in far-reaching connections of worldwide importance,” she asserted, sitting even straighter in her chair.
“Yes, I see,” Mr. Hale responded. “And I assume that a change in cotton supply may likely increase the cost of cotton,” he posed.
“Indeed, and higher costs mean lower profits and possibly lower wages for the workers. And then there will be threats of strikes, the masses wanting to take control and overthrow the masters in their ignorance,” Mrs. Thornton stated, her face stony in her vehemence.
“Strikes?” Margaret said with surprise, setting her teacup down with a gentle clink. “But are not strikes prone to violent outbreaks? I have heard talk of their danger in London.”
Mrs. Thornton smiled with grim pleasure at the girl’s distressed tone. “Yes, Miss Hale. You must be brave and strong to live in Milton, where the battle between masters and men is ongoing. I myself witnessed a strike in my earlier years in which men threw stones.”
“Oh, how horrible!” Mrs. Hale exclaimed, shrinking from the very thought of such a scene.
Mr. Hale, too, was alarmed. “Well, I hope men of good conscience can avert such a strike from happening.”
“The workers are all ungrateful beasts, always demanding more than what they’re given,” Fanny added. She was taking tiny bites of almond cake with her fork.
“Have you lived all your life here in Milton, Mrs. Thornton?” Mrs. Hale inquired.
“Except for a few years after my husband’s death, I have indeed lived here and seen the rise of this town to greatness.”
The sound of footsteps alerted them to the entrance of Mr. Thornton.
“I’m sorry to intrude. I cannot stay, but I wished to welcome you to our home.” His eyes met Margaret’s for a moment. Her heart thumped, and her cheeks grew warm.
