Past and Present - A Modern Day Romance of North & South

CHAPTER THREE - REMORSE AND RECRIMINATION

The door swung back to its original position, leaving John alone in the stillroom. For a few moments he remained where he was, only too conscious of her words echoing all around him, mocking him, despising him. Damn it! His insides twisted at the way he'd allowed Steven to undermine his resolute exterior just at the point when the daughter of his newest tenant had entered the room. The remembrance of her wide, horrified eyes shuddered through him with an icy chill. He had never wanted to see a woman look at him in that way at any time in his life. He threw himself against the stainless steel worktop with an irritated growl, propping his elbows up on its shining surface and grasping either side of his face with his hands, hoping against hope that if he squeezed his skull hard enough he would be able to obliterate the shame coursing through him. He had always striven to keep family matters out of his business affairs but today that line, always so keenly observed in the past, had blurred.

His anger had abated very little even after Steven had skulked away and Margaret had started to talk to him about the faulty washing machine. He had hardly been listening to her though. He had been too angry with Steven, with Fran, but most especially with himself. Towards Margaret he was only too aware that he had been gruff and churlish, his lack of politeness a cover for the humiliation he’d felt at being caught at such a disadvantage. Her appearance in the room had only added fuel to his already overwrought state, as had the fact that she hadn’t waited patiently, as he had assumed she would, until he was ready to come and speak to her. Instead she had taken it upon herself to seek him out and witnessing, in the process, a side to him that he could now only regret.

Only now, as his heightened state of feeling began to dissipate, could he remember with any clarity her presence in the room.  In her face he'd seen her determination to deliver the message her father had sent her with. She’d seemed so fragile and petite as he’d towered above her, her slender figure wrapped in a pair of faded jeans and simple white t-shirt, her hair gathered back into a rough ponytail which, when she'd left the room so abruptly, had been in danger of falling free and unrestrained down her back.

Another exasperated sigh passed his lips. He could imagine her going home and relaying to her father the spectacle she’d witnessed, assassinating his character with little compunction. He knew that he would have to try and explain that he wasn’t the monster she thought him to be, that the unfortunate scene she had witnessed was not a commonplace occurrence in his day-to-day life. God knows, he had never hit anyone before in his life and when it had come to it he probably would have stopped short of hitting Steven.

Alerted from his remorseful reverie by chatter in the Function Suite beyond his body reacted automatically by straightening to its full height, his shoulders shaking off their hunched attitude, becoming strong and broad as was so much his habit. It wouldn’t do for anyone to find him slouched in an attitude of despair. Certainly half the staff already thought him incapable of such emotion, he pondered ruefully. He hurriedly dragged his tie straight and smoothed the collar of his shirt before emerging into the Function Suite, adopting once more his customary air of authority and control, briefly acknowledging the two members of his staff as he passed them.

***

Margaret’s initial reaction on her exodus from the hotel was to go straight to her father and tell him how disillusioned he was when it came to John Thornton. She even began to walk in the direction of Adam Bell’s office, carried along as much by her horror as by her disappointment, but stopped suddenly in her tracks as the steady realisation of the possible consequences her actions would bring began to slowly filter through her mind. Think about what you're doing, a small voice inside her head whispered, threatening to unbalance her resolve. Think about dad. For the first time in ages he’s happy. You know he likes this John Thornton, even if it is only through his dealings with him as our landlord…