Shadow in the North

Chapter Eighteen - Consequences and Quarrels

The following morning, Mr Thornton awoke a man of purpose, seeing to all of his interests and matters of business with an efficient determination and clarity of mind. Where there was a demand for finished cotton, the astute businessman was able to drive hard bargains to achieve a satisfactory profit for the mill. Where he had to meet his brother magistrates, he kept sharp to his time and was able to listen to all matters put before him, giving in return the benefit of his great sense and foresight. He had about him a natural proclivity for the law; for seeing what was the truth of the matter – what was, and what might be – and with that great understanding, he was able to dispatch his duties with an efficient directness which saw him make clear and quick decisions, to which his brothers all readily deferred. Indeed, those older, of higher standing within the community and those of greater wealth – realised in both property and land, and not simply held in ready capital – all saw Mr Thornton's dexterity of mind and valued his sound decision making so highly, that they looked to him for guidance, and he took on that mantle without one ounce of conscious awareness of their natural deference to him. It was he, that his fellow magistrates appointed the person to meet with the police on all matters of law, and it was he who took all actions necessary in order to reach a decision upon any criminal case.

This great respect they held for the young and austere mill Master was silently paid, and he had no knowledge of it. Where a man in possession of greater vanity or feeling of self-importance, may see his brother magistrates' ready acceptance of his decisions, and tendency to allow themselves to be swayed to his way of thinking, as a sign of his undoubtedly high-regard, Mr Thornton thought only that his decisions were took up – his reasons listened to and accepted – purely because they were logical and sound, and may therefore have been reached by any other. Had he known that those men of status and experience had revered him, he would have felt it a hindrance to his purpose, for he sought no accolades or attention, nor wished to bend the will of men, but to serve his duty with that directness and honesty upon which he so prided himself.

It was his mother who knew his worth and standing amongst men; her greedy ears sought out those titbits and she was rapacious in her thirst for the probative words that might be gleaned from her women-folk; those wives of Masters, magistrates and wealthy men, and it was an unrivalled pleasure to the proud matriarch to hear the good opinion of any vaunted Milton man for her acclaimed son.

And that day he executed his business with the relentless precision and rhythmic efficiency of a stout and sturdy heart, beating potently within a strong man's breast. It was as though the dismay of the previous day – the pain and disbelief – had been cast off completely, and left his mind all the more clear, just as the tempest clears that cloudy sky on passing, leaving in its wake uninterrupted blankets of crystal blue. His very purposelessness of the previous afternoon – the hours wasted in idling through fields and riding upon the omnibus, served to ensure his ambition that following day.

His business that day included the cases of those five for whom warrants were issued for the riot. The evidence for the three conspirators failed, and Mr Thornton charged the police to be vigilant against any future uprising, cautioning them that the strong arm of the law ought to be ready to force those who denied its authority, into submission. He thought upon the violence of the mob and took a certain satisfaction in knowing that the police were eager to prove the mobsters' guilt, and having seen to the day's business, he took himself from the stifling heat of the borough court and stepped out into the street.

The air was hardly fresher and the sun blazed down with that oppressive stillness which had marked the calamity of the day of the riot only two days previous, and as the sultry air hit him, he flagged. His vitality was sapped from his veins and he felt himself so languorous that he could no longer force his thoughts to their purpose, and instead he allowed his mind to fall upon that fateful moment, when she had placed herself before the mob – all in the name of his Irish – and then, once he had claimed her under his protection, how – once smitten down – he had awoken to find her shielding him with all the brave determination of mind and defiant independence which he so desperately loved and regretted, both at the very same moment. His fists clenched, the knuckles whitening against taut skin, as he thought on the blows she had taken. He could not but think of her. The thoughts came unbidden, and her face stood before him in his mind. He wished to be indifferent, but he could not be. He wished to blot her out with anger and frustration, but in truth, all he could feel was a painful longing; the desire to be before her once again. Just to look upon her or hear her utter some inane word of no significance, would be the only balm to his inner turmoil. She loves me! thought he, with growing incredulity. She had claimed it most passionately, and he had felt the truth of her words. So unjust in her assumption of his inconstancy of heart – so very offensive to him in her proclamation of knowing the passions which dwelt within his own breast, far greater than did he – had she been when explaining her need to reject him. And it had smarted him as no violent or maligning rebuke ever could, and yet, for all that she offended him, he longed to see her. He longed to place himself before her and see how she might react to him.