“I hope you will find a husband as gentle as your father. I confess I was a little surprised you did not find a match for yourself in London.”
Margaret smiled weakly, but her body tensed at the memory of the fervent “Marry me!” she had received in Milton the very day she’d ever stepped foot there.
Would Mr. Thornton make a gentle husband? He was so very different from her father. Mr. Thornton was a man of great power, who took decisive action and spoke without equivocation. Their arguing had been vehement. He had grasped her arm in her attempt to leave!
And yet, today, there was no trace of the hard-willed man. He was all tenderness and compassion. He had taken the effort to ease suffering in bringing his gift. And out of his busy day too!
“I think today I should like you to read to me a little from Psalms,” her mother said, returning Margaret’s attention to the present moment.
Margaret read, endeavoring to remain as encouraging as possible. She tried to be as attentive and gentle as ever, but cherished the hours together as never before.
Mr. Thornton came home that evening to find Fanny and his mother addressing the invitations for their annual dinner party. He took up his evening paper, but instead of reading, sidled up to the table where the women were working, Fanny setting the seal on the folded parchments.
Everyone in Milton knew the Thorntons hosted a grand dinner party each year for the town’s most powerful manufacturing men. It was the one occasion on which Mrs. Thornton set aside her proclivity to economize and served a banquet that would reflect her son’s position in society.
“All our traditional guests will receive invitations?” he asked, looking over his mother’s shoulder to see what names she had written.
“Yes, of course, John,” his mother answered, with a trace of annoyance.
“You will invite the Hales?” he prodded, having mentioned his interest in including them to her a few days before.
Fanny spoke up instead. “They are on the list. But I don’t see why we should invite these Hales, as they will have nothing in common with the people at our dinner party,” she remarked.
Her brother bristled at her arrogant tone. “It will be a great opportunity for them to integrate with Milton people. Mr. Hale is very interested in all the workings of power here,” he answered.
He lowered his voice. “Mrs. Hale may not attend, however. She has been ill.”
“The dinner party is yet six weeks hence, perhaps she may improve,” Mrs. Thornton reasoned, herself not patient with women who proclaimed themselves forever ailing with some kind of trouble or other.
Mr. Thornton remained silent.
“At any rate, they should count themselves honored to be invited. I can think of a few others I should rather have had come,” Fanny went on.
Fanny’s remarks irritated her brother. He caught the cautious glance of his mother, who knew much more about his interest in the Hales. She would know that of all their guests, there was one person whom he wished to be there above all.
Chapter twenty
As the longer days of June progressed, the lace curtains in her mother’s sitting room waved in the breeze of open windows. Margaret had found some beautiful pink and white peonies at the market and brought them home to sit in a wide vase for her mother’s pleasure. The flowers made Margaret long to be in Helstone, where the vicarage garden would be blooming and the wildflowers would cover the landscape of her childhood home.
She did not let such yearnings fill her mind for too long, for there were challenges enough in Milton that needed her full attention. Pining for the past did her no good in the present. She must take courage to meet each day with as happy a disposition as possible.
One of her pleasures at this time was to walk across town to visit Bessy. As she became more familiar with the parts of town she crossed—the high street markets, the mills, and the neighborhoods of row houses and lodgings—she began to feel she was a part of this teeming town. Having a connection to theHiggins family gave her a heartfelt interest in the people who made the town what it was.
Arriving at Bessy’s one afternoon, she was pleased to find her friend sitting up and smiling from ear to ear.
“Yo’ll not guess who has been to visit us the other night,” Bessy prodded.
“Why, I’m afraid I don’t know many other people here. Who?” Margaret answered, perplexed at Bessy’s apparent eagerness.
“The Master—that’s who!” she announced triumphantly.
“The Master?... Mr. Thornton?” Margaret stammered.
Bessy took pleasure in witnessing her surprise. “He came the other night to speak with father. “He as much as said he’d made a promise to yo’ to do it,” she said, excited to tell the story she’d finally waited days to tell.
Margaret was speechless, so Bessy continued, “He didn’t stay long. Father’s temper put him in a mood to take his leave.” She sighed heavily.
“What did Mr. Thornton say?” Margaret demanded.
