“He tried to explain why he couldn’t pay more wages, but Father wouldn’t hear it.”
They were silent for a moment. “I am glad he came, nonetheless,” Margaret remarked. “I had not expected—“
“I’ve not told you all,” Bessy interrupted, a smile again appearing on her face. “While he were here, I had one of my coughing spells. He wished me well when he left. But that’s not the end of it…” She could scarcely contain her wonder over what she would reveal next. “He sent a doctor to see me yesterday. A doctor!” she repeated, still incredulous.
Bessy’s head drooped and she grew somber. “Of course, he said I had the cotton lung, which we all knew. And that there wasn’t any cure for it. But he gave me this bottle of laudanum to take if the pain gets bad,” she said, holding the brown bottle in her hand as some precious relic.
She looked up at Margaret with an expression of amazement. “Imagine, such as me gettin’ a doctor to come and see me. And this…” she held the bottle up, “he gave to me and said there was no charge.”
Margaret’s eyes filled with tears to see Bessy so affected by this simple act of care.
Bessy studied her friend for a moment. “He must think a good deal of yo’ to come as he did. None of the other masters would have done it.”
Margaret looked down, feeling a blush rise to her face. “I asked him to try talking to your father in hopes that all this talk of striking might be quelled. But perhaps Mr. Thornton is right, and I don’t understand.”
“But you tried to get these men to see reason,” Bessy reassured her, laying her hand on Margaret’s arm. “Sometimes I think they’re all fools. I’m so tired of all their fighting.”
Margaret’s mouth quirked in a wry smile. “Now,” she exclaimed in a brighter tone, breaking the sullen strain of conversation. “I have not toldyouall,“ she said with a secretive smile. “My family has been invited to dinner at the Thorntons.”
“Oh! But it’s for the masters and the like. And sometimes the mayor or a parliament member will attend,” the Milton girl replied.
“So you think I am not worthy to attend?” Margaret teased her friend.
“Ah no, but I’m telling yo’ that as yo’r father is no master or dignitary, yo’re getting invited must count for something else,” Bessy said, giving Margaret a knowing look. “I knew he had eyes for yo’, that day in mill. Yo’ll marry him if he asks yo’, won’t yo’?”
“Bessy!” Margaret protested, her heartbeat quickening. If only Bessy knew that he had already asked as much.
“I long to end my suffering here and think on how it will be in the life everlasting, but it would make me happy to see yo’ marrythe master before I go!” Bessy lay back in her bed and looked dreamily at the ceiling, imagining it. She propped herself up on her elbows. “What will you wear to the dinner?” she asked.
Margaret was glad to drop the subject of marriage. “I told you I have several nice dresses from London. I’ve not chosen what to wear yet, but you shouldn’t worry about that,” she mock scolded.
“Aye, but other girls there will dress to catch Mr. Thornton’s eye, and yo’ must carry over all.”
“Bessy! You are truly scandalous!” Margaret exclaimed. “I’ve not said if I would marry him.”
“But why wouldn’t yo’?” Bessy was perplexed. “I can see now how he might bend more to the workers if yo’re to be his wife,” she said.
“I doubt a man like Mr. Thornton would by influenced by any woman, let alone me, who is a southern-bred woman with little knowledge of how this town runs.”
“But he’s already come to talk to Father, hasn’t he? The likes of Slickson or Hamper would never have come as Thronton did. And after all Father’s insults he still took pains to send a doctor to me.”
Margaret was struck by Bessy’s words. She wondered how much influence she could hope to have over Mr. Thornton’s attitude toward his workers.
She had been wrong to assume Nicholas would be receptive to Mr. Thornton’s explanations. Perhaps she was wrong to assume Mr. Thornton was unmovable in his opinions and practices.
Margaret was still pondering everything Bessy had said when she arrived home much later. Her mother was awake when she came in and called for her. Ever since they had received the invitation to the Thornton dinner party, the idea of attending had animated Mrs. Hale.
“Just think, Margaret,” she had enthused, “we haven’t been invited to a proper dinner in years! Oh, but I have nothing to wear!” she suddenly recalled, with a corresponding frown.
“You can wear one of my dresses, mamma. We can shorten the skirts, and take in the bodice a little,” Margaret had suggested brightly.
Her mother then wanted Margaret to parade in front of her in the dresses Margaret herself might wear, so that they could choose which would suit best for the occasion.
Although she was a trifle tired from her walk, Margaret cheerfully obliged, giving a twirl and curtsy with each frock for her mother’s amusement. And with Dixon’s added opinions, it was decided that Mrs. Hale would have the pink dress altered for herself while Margaret would wear the gown of pale green satin.
“Do you think it may be too much for a Milton dinner party?” Margaret queried, standing in the off-the-shoulder dress that had elicited praise from her mother and the family servant.
“No, my dear. It is just what a young woman should wear to an elegant evening affair,” her mother assured her. “Now, I wonder what necklace I might have that would set it off perfectly.”
