Margaret gave an agreeing smile, but the thought of presenting herself in such a gown before Mr. Thornton made her insides churn with apprehension. A dress of this fashion was meant to capture the attention of men, and she was certain it would accomplish its task in attracting Mr. Thornton’s notice. What she still could not decipher, however, was whether she truly wished to secure his interest in her.
Mr. Hale told Margaret at dinner that evening that Mr. Thornton would come to his lesson on Thursday. The thought of seeing him again made her muscles tense as a flood of conflictingemotions coursed through her. She had not yet spoken to him about his meeting with Nicholas.
She had sent him on a fool’s errand, and he would be displeased with her. She wondered if his interest in her would wane because of her meddling. A discomforting feeling pressed down on her. She tried to will it away by telling herself that she would not be affected at the change of his affections, for she had not been certain of her own.
Thursday evening came on the heels of a warm day. The windows and doors of the Hales’ row house were open to let air circulate. Upstairs with her mother and Dixon, Margaret was distracted by the expectation of Mr. Thornton’s arrival.
When the doorbell rang, she listened intently for sounds from below—the muffled voice of her father’s welcome and the deeper tones of a reply.
She stayed upstairs with some impatience, giving short replies to Dixon’s commentary on how the weather in Milton differed from that in Hampshire.
When it was time for Dixon to brush her mother’s hair, Margaret escaped to her father’s study on the first floor.
She stepped quietly through the doorway as they talked. The discourse halted, and both men looked up at her entrance. A lantern lit the center of the book-filled room, leaving the perimeter in shadows. Her father smiled his welcome, but Margaret could not read the expression on Mr. Thornton’s face. His glance swept over her entire form with a glint in his eye, his lips almost a smile.
He had taken off his frock coat, and was wearing only his waistcoat and shirtsleeves, as she had seen him in the mill. A wave of warmth spread through her to see him thus, and she almost turned to leave. But she falteringly took a seat by the door as they resumed their discussion. Her father had also taken off his frock coat this warm evening.
Margaret kept her head bowed over her needlework, occasionally taking surreptitious glances at Mr. Thornton’s profile—the way his dark hair brushed behind the white collar of his shirt, and the mesmerizing form of his arms that could be seen through the billowy cotton sleeves in lamp light.
When Mr. Thornton stood to leave, Margaret swiftly put her work into her basket and stood, ready to see him out as he put his coat on. Student and tutor shook hands, and Margaret walked the short distance behind her father’s pupil to the front door.
“Bessy tells me that you talked with her father. I am sorry Nicholas was not more agreeable, but I am glad you went to see him nonetheless,” she said as he gathered his hat from the hook on the wall and gave it to him.
He turned to study her deferential manner, the folded hands in front of her, the bowed head and faint blush on her cheeks.
“I must apologize for my rough manner—“ he began.
“No, I was too forward in coming to you. Let us not speak of it,” she returned, wringing her hands and lowering her eyes from his gaze.
He was silent.
“It was good of you to send the doctor to see Bessy,” she began again. “It did her much good just to be visited, I am certain.”
“I am sorry your friend is suffering. Hamper cares nothing about the health of his workers. If she had only worked at my mill from the start, she might have been spared such trouble,” he said with a creased brow. “How is your mother?” he asked.
“She is fairly well at present, thank you. Although there are other times when she is put out. She likes to sit by her window where she can see some wildflowers beyond the canal.”
“Would she like to go to them?” he asked.
“It is too far—“
“I should be happy to take her there—to take your family there sometime when she is well enough to enjoy it. Would she enjoy a carriage ride to the meadows beyond?” he offered.
Margaret blinked her surprise, unable to speak for a moment. “Why yes, I believe that would be very fine. But please do not go to any trouble over—“
“It is no trouble at all. If you believe it would do her good,” he insisted.
“Yes, I believe it would. Thank you,” she replied.
He hesitated a moment, hat in hand, as if to say something else, but then changed his mind and nodded goodbye before heading out.
She stood in the darkened hallway for several moments, contemplating his kind offer. How was it that he always surprised her? She had long relegated his kind to a category of men she could not admire. Yet he continued to wrest from her the satisfaction of dismissing him as an unworthy suitor.
Chapter twenty-one
Mr. Thornton arranged to bring a carriage to the Hales’ home one Sunday afternoon to take the family for a drive in the country.
Margaret stood in front of her wardrobe, a flutter of anxiety in her stomach, as she searched for what to wear for a summer outing. The sun was piercing through the patchy sky overhead, and the air was warm.
