Mr. Thornton tried to repress his frustration in explaining himself, the sharp pain of discord wrenching away the contentedair he had enjoyed upon his first arrival. “I am an employer. I have no further obligation to them than this. As I said, I deal fairly and honestly with my workers. That is my responsibility. As to the children working on the factory floors, the law allows children above the age of nine to work—in order to keep their family warm and fed.”
“I am glad there is such a law. However, it would be best if these children were in school and not needed to help support their families.”
“And in the South, in your farmers’ fields, no children are working to support their families?” he retorted, his brow creased.
Margaret bowed her head in reluctant acquiescence, and he continued.
“I’m certain that when we have created a Utopia, all will be well balanced between rich and poor, and we will see such hardships behind us. For now, I am forced to work in the world as it exists, with all its injustices and inequities. You must excuse me for not being able to end the war between masters and hands.”
“Margaret, I believe, is merely taking an interest in the workers’ point of view since she has become friends with some of them—a Mr. Higgins and his daughters, is that right, Margaret?” Mr. Hale interjected, trying to diffuse the discordant atmosphere.
Mr. Thornton frowned, glancing at Margaret, but she did not look up from her teacup.
“They have a right to their view, but their eagerness to condemn the masters comes from their ignorance of what the masters must contend with,” Mr. Thornton answered, vexed beyond measure to think she should be hearing the spite and anger against him from her new associates.
“If they are ignorant,” Margaret began, “then perhaps you should explain—“
“There now, let us talk of something else, shall we? I don’t believe we shall solve all Milton’s troubles in one evening,” Mr. Hale gently suggested.
And so they turned the conversation to more palatable subjects such as the northern climate, the coming Great Exhibition in London, and the immense change in England resulting from the number of trains now connecting the nation.
But all the while, Mr. Thornton chafed under the oppressive weight of being misunderstood. He was equally glad and distraught to take his leave at the end of the evening. He shook hands with Mr. Hale and bowed to Mrs. Hale, who remained seated.
Margaret stood to signal her goodbye.
“You must forgive me, Miss Hale, if I have defended myself with any force of feeling that may disturb you. I am aware that we masters are often misunderstood. And I am, after all, but an uncouth Milton manufacturer,” Mr. Thornton apologized, his face a stern mask.
“Certainly,” she answered, with polite sweetness. “It is all so different here, and I am still learning these northern ways,” she added, giving him a parting smile.
He nodded and turned to leave in some confusion, her bright face and gentler reply having melted away some of his disgruntled feeling.
“Margaret!” her father chastised as soon as Mr. Thornton had descended the stairs. “I believe you caused Mr. Thornton some offense in your questioning.”
“I’m sorry if I have offended your friend, papa. Is it not right that I should try to understand these things?” she replied.
“Being a little less forthcoming in stating your opinions would be more comely, my dear,” her mother admonished wearily. “Atany rate, I am tired. Will someone help me to my bed?” She received immediate help from her husband, who took her arm in his and led her out of the room.
Mrs. Thornton sat in the darkened room with a single candle lit beside her. She hated to waste the wax and would have normally gone to bed at this hour, but she waited until John was home.
Her thoughts had wandered uncertain bypaths all evening, imagining how all would be changed when John married. She had given it thought years ago, but as time had gone on, it had slipped more and more to the edges of her mind until she had no longer thought of it much at all.
She knew he ought to have a son to carry on the Thornton name if nothing else. But she had grown accustomed to being his confidante and companion in lieu of a wife, so that the idea now of giving up her position as first in his heart tore at her own sorely.
But she would make any sacrifice for John, come what may. If he wanted a wife, it was his natural right to marry. If only she could believe that any girl was worthy of him and would do all in her power to make him happy.
What she dreaded most, beyond having to step aside for another to take her place, was that he might choose a girl who would want pampering and spend frivolously what wealth John worked so hard to create.
But such a worry was useless, because John would be wise to the ways of such a girl, knowing so well the hapless ways of his own sister. He would certainly not be attracted to the likes of one who fretted over fashions and social callers.
And yet, she knew that love could strike all sensibility from a man. And that some women knew their feminine power andwielded it cunningly. But Miss Hale hardly seemed the type to play such games. She seemed sensible enough, a girl of solid upbringing, no doubt, and a gentleman’s daughter.
Thus Mrs. Thornton endeavored to succor her spirits in favor of the girl. It seemed that, for all her worrying, John had made his choice, and now she must come to terms with any forthcoming changes.
She should take an inventory of their bed linens and prepare to set up the upstairs rooms in such a way that a wife of John’s standing would require.
The sound of approaching footsteps halted her scattered musings. She swiftly picked up the sewing in her lap and listened to the slowing steps as he entered the room.
“You’re still up?” he queried with some surprise.
