“I’m sorry if you were inconvenienced, but a half ton of cotton overturned into the yard and a man was badly hurt today,” her brother retorted with cool sarcasm as he took up his fork.
“How badly hurt?” his mother asked, knowing her son was proud that accidents seldom occurred at his mill.
“The doctor believes he will recover well. But he will not be able to work for several weeks.”
“There are plenty enough to take his place,” Mrs. Thornton casually reasoned.
“But his position, or a better, I will have for him when he is recovered. It was no fault of his that he was temporarily put out. His wife is expecting a child—“
“These people and their misfortunes. It is all such dreary talk,” Fanny declared peevishly.
“If the subject is so disagreeable to you, Fan, I will not discuss it further,” her brother returned in clipped tones. “However, I hoped you would appreciate that the mill is the means of our good fortune and that I have little else to occupy my thoughts.”
“I am well aware of it! But I don’t see why we must live so very close to all of it. When I marry, you can be certain my house will not be so close to any factory,” Fanny announced with an upward jerk of her chin.
Fanny’s behavior vexed Mr. Thornton’s peace of mind the rest of the evening. Her contemptuous dismissal of the people who worked in his mill touched a vein of sympathy he had long practiced burying under the constant press of duty. If her heart was hardening, his was showing signs of thawing from an unnatural hibernation. But he did not recognize this tug at his conscience for its deeper significance. He thought himself mildly perturbed by the unfortunate turn of events, which had broken the day’s productive routine.
When silence at last engulfed the house that evening, Mr. Thornton stood alone in his bedchamber. The feeble light of a single candle lit only a portion of the wide bed behind him. Darkness crept into the corners of the expansive room, where all the outlines of his life lay in patient order for his use.
He undressed with the swift efficiency of years of living in stark routine, exposing his skin for only a brief moment to the chilled air of the dark, unheated room. Snuffing the candle out, he climbed into bed and pulled the thick counterpane of patterned gold brocade over the cotton and woolen layers that would keep him warm through the night. He closed his eyes as soon as his head settled on his pillow. A gust of wind whistled outside over the barren mill yard, reminding him to be grateful for his present comfort and safety.
Through his work as a magistrate, he had seen the wide range of human habitats in Milton. He knew that some families huddled together in straw beds through bitter nights like this.
He wondered how Jem Daugherty was faring this evening and if his home were warm enough for his comfort. He had no doubt his wife was tending to his every need with alacrity.
The stillness of the hour stirred deeper channels of his mind, and the vivid image that he had resolutely pushed away for hours swept into the forefront of his wandering thoughts. He let himself remember how fervently the pregnant girl hadpressed her mouth to her waking husband. Never before had he witnessed such a kiss between a man and a woman. The vision of it had been spellbinding. There was a raw power—a fierce devotion and tenderness in the girl’s affection for her husband.
The married pair would even now be sweetly huddled together in a shared bed. He was almost envious of the injured laborer. All the man’s sufferings—now and evermore—would be assuaged by gentle caresses and the comforting, intimate touch of a lover’s care.
What would it feel like to be tended to in such a manner? The vision of the girl from Hampshire slipped naturally into his mind. And even as reason cautioned against the temptation, the thought of her—lying next to him—rushed into his imagination with compelling force.
He struggled to cast off the pleasant imagery now sweeping through his thoughts.His heart beat fervently, alarmed and tantalized by the powerful feelings the memory of her evoked in him.
What was it about the girl from the London ball that haunted him even now? He had never given much thought to any woman before. He had spent many years disdaining every luxury or pleasure that other men pursued, pressing himself to the work of building a secure future for his family. It had not occurred to him to take a wife, for it seemed to him only another burden of responsibility.
But now he grasped something of the advantages marriage might bring. It was a revelation to him. Heretofore, he had thought of marriage as little more than a social obligation, an inconvenience for which he had no time. He had not considered that it could be a bonding of souls—a soothing balm of affection, a passionate caring for another, a shared life between two similar persons that would chase away the gloom of this harsh world.
In the solitude of his bedchamber, the pleasant image of one particular woman tantalized his drifting thoughts. And for the first time in his thirty-odd years, Mr. Thornton considered what his life might be like to have a wife.
Chapter five
The day of Edith’s wedding had finally arrived. Margaret sat at the vanity table in her London room, reflecting on the time she had spent in this house. For eight years she had lived with her cousin. They had grown up together almost as sisters, and now this chapter of their lives was at an end. She would miss her dear cousin, and all her light-hearted ways. But Margaret was also eager to return to her childhood home, where she had spent joyously free summers.
She stared at herself in the mirror with a measure of bemused approval, happy her present duties required only her concentrated stillness after the many weeks of busy preparations for this day. She smiled at the tiny blossoms nestled in her hair as the last curl was made and tucked into her elaborate coiffure by the attending lady’s maid.
“There,” announced the woman in the crisp black and white attire of her station.
Margaret rose from her seat to cast her eyes over the full splendor of her appearance, the rustling of her voluminous gown an auspicious sound after so long a time in silent contemplation.
“Pardon, Miss,” the call intruded into the room as one of the young daily servants appeared at the doorway. “But Mr. Henry Lennox has called for Miss Margaret.”
Margaret made her way down the staircase with concerned curiosity. “Is everything well? I thought you should be at the church by now,” she asked as soon as she saw Mr. Lennox, who stood below in the grand hall in an elegant morning coat.
“I’m on my way there right now. All is well. I’m sorry to give you any alarm.” Henry watched her continued descent with an appreciative eye. Her natural beauty and gracefulness were only enhanced by the grandeur of her embellished dress and elaborately styled hair. He was certain she would look well in whatever she wore.
“I was sent to ensure all is well here at Harley Street,” he explained as she arrived in front of him. “My brother insisted I come here first. He is not at all calm this morning, as you may gather,” he added with a grin, a glimmer of humor in his eyes.
Margaret smiled in return. “I suppose it is only to be expected. Edith has also been in quite a flurry this morning. So many preparations have gone into this day!” she exclaimed softly with a wearied shake of her head. “I wonder if it is worth all the worry. I believe I should like nothing more than to have a simple wedding, with only a few dear people in attendance. But you will think I am just feeling contrary after all the trouble I have been put to these past weeks.”
