Don’t tell me not to worry, for it shan’t work. When I think of you, unmarried and stuck where there are no prospective matches to speak of, I try to imagine some scheme to get you back here. I’m sure Henry would be pleased to see you again; you and he were such good friends.
I’m sorry to write such a short letter, but I’m getting drowsy. You will understand someday when you are in the same condition.
Do think of coming to visit. Baby isn’t due for three months yet. Give Aunt and Uncle my love.
Ever your favorite cousin,
Edith
Margaret could only smile wryly at her cousin’s missive. Edith’s life ran in perfect cycles of comfort and ease, and shecouldn’t imagine anyone she was fond of falling beyond these outlines of contentment.
It amused Margaret that Edith and all the other girls in their social circle in London had spent so much of their attention finding a husband. She herself had only thought of returning home to the quiet but useful life in Helstone, where she was free to wander and to be of help to those who truly needed it.
Edith’s worrying on her account was merely sweet affection, and Margaret set these concerns aside. There was too much else in this turbulent place to set her thoughts upon.
A few weeks later, Margaret came again to sit quietly and work on her embroidery as her father and Mr. Thornton spoke of Plato’s vision of philosopher kings. She wondered how Mr. Thornton could say a great deal on the vital need for moral principles and yet appear not to see how his very lifework in some ways seemed to put it all at odds.
She half-listened to what they were discussing, her thoughts often drifting to Edith and her forthcoming baby. It seemed an incredible thing to Margaret that her dear cousin, who had nearly been a sister to her and was the same age, should be a mother soon! As she dwelt upon it, she looked up to see Mr. Thornton’s strong profile as he absorbed her father’s reasonings.
Having a child with Mr. Thornton sprang into her mind unbidden, and she gasped aloud. Mr. Thornton turned to look at her.
“It is nothing,” she assured, coloring deeply. “I…pricked my finger,” she lied with a faltering smile. She marveled at how swift and outlandish the imagination could be. She vowed to put the image out of her mind, although the disquieting surprise of it lingered.
Later, as Mr. Thornton stood to leave, he glanced at Margaret before turning to her father.
“Perhaps you have already heard that our first free library in Milton is to open next week. Charles Dickens is coming to speak. Since he is well known to advocate for the common man, I thought you…and Miss Hale…might like to hear him.”
“I would very much like to hear him speak, thank you,” Mr. Hale replied. “Margaret?”
Both men looked to Margaret, who had laid aside her sewing and stood by the door. She smiled and nodded her answer.
“Very well,” Mr. Thornton concluded, “I shall bring a carriage for you at half-past six next Tuesday.”
Outside, as he began his walk home, Mr. Thornton smiled. He remained still hopeful that he and Miss Hale could better understand one another.
On the evening of the event, Margaret dressed in a simple gown of deep blue. She was tying on her bonnet when she heard the carriage’s arrival outside. She called out to her father upstairs with a calmness that belied the nervous tingling in her body at the thought of being in such close confinement with the man who had once asked her to marry him.
Mr. Thornton was all gentility coming to the door and in helping them alight into his family’s carriage. Margaret was surprised to find herself pleased to be afforded the luxury of riding through the streets of this town. It had been many months since she had taken a cab of any kind.
She was pleased, too, that the Thorntons’ coach was not an opulent ride, but reflected well the ideals of his mother and himself in its simple but perfect order and comfort.
Her father was in good spirits, enjoying conversation with his favorite pupil. In fact, Margaret had readily noticed that her father seemed happiest in the company of Mr. Thornton. Although a twinge of jealousy arose in this awareness, it was submerged by a stronger wave of warm gratitude that her father had found a fellow intellectual companion.
While she smiled at this consideration, she caught the gaze of Mr. Thornton and felt that familiar jolt of heat spread through her. She glanced at her hands and kept her face averted from him, all the while feeling his nearness with every passing moment.
Carriages lined the street as they neared the great Hall of Science, where the books would be housed, in the center of town. A fine rain began, creating a shimmer on the cobblestones and sleek coaches.
Mr. Hale took his daughter’s arm in his, and Mr. Thornton walked with them on her other side.
Entering the pillared portico, Margaret marveled at the mix of people coming to this opening. There were ladies with their feathers and pearls, and gentlemen with top hats. But more plainly dressed persons, with calico dresses and wool caps, also entered.
All the concerts and plays Margaret had been to in London were filled with only those in finer social circles. Edith and Aunt Shaw had largely attended only to be seen and to trade the latest gossip. Margaret had never been to a lecture before. Seeing the crowd composed of nearly every level of society was fascinating. There was an air of excitement in witnessing the broadening of opportunity for all. It seemed to Margaret a heartening show of how Milton men did indeed embrace the future.
As she observed all this, she noticed Nicholas Higgins in a group of working men, huddling nearby in discussion. Heglimpsed her as she approached and gave her a cursory nod, which she returned with a smile.
But her smile vanished as she watched Higgins’ eyes narrow as he stared at the cotton mill master at her side. All the men surrounding the union leader grew still as Mr. Thornton walked by.
The Milton manufacturer led them forward, through the throngs of people. Mr. Thornton stopped frequently as various citizens of the town hailed him. Many glances made their way to Margaret, and she shied uncomfortably from their silent curiosity about her relationship to the respected mill owner.
