A Heart for Milton

A Heart for Milton - Chapter 13

A Heart for Milton - Chapter 13

Margaret set a teapot and pan of water to boil on the black-leaded stove and went to the front door to retrieve a basket of various goods that had been left at the doorstep. She smiled to think of how the villagers had spoiled them with regular gifts of food. She was determined to find out from Mrs. Purkins whom to thank and send the well-wishers a lovely note once she returned to Milton.

She set the table for two and went back to take the tea off the stove, then began cooking some sausage while happily humming a tune of her own invention.

She touched her cheeks with the back of her hand, amazed at the faint heat she still felt in her face and the warm sensation that lingered throughout her body. She was growing quite accustomed to the pleasures of married life, but was still astounded at the power of their impassioned union as man and wife. She wondered how much opportunity for loving they would have once they were back in Milton. Things would likely be very different when John was forced to focus his time and energy at the mill.

Mr. Thornton silently leaned against the doorway of the kitchen with his arms crossed, taking in the sight of his wife at her task. He felt an invigorating glow of contentment from having loved her well. He had enjoyed the leisure of remaining in bed as she had hurriedly dressed to make her way to the kitchen. He smiled at the remembrance of her bashfulness as she slipped out from under the bedcovers.

She was dressed in a simple pale blue skirt and white blouse. He knew that the curves beneath were held in the simplest confinements, having noticed that she eschewed her corset on the days they remained in Helstone.

He would miss the casual intimacy of their life in this place. They were free to do as they pleased, with no one else to observe them. He was loath to remove to the city again and resume a life of schedules and fretful toil under the watchful eye of his mother, the servants, and society at large.

"I think I should like to be a simple farmer," he announced as he crossed the room to wrap his arms around her from behind and press his cheek against hers, reveling in the simple pleasure of holding her.

She smiled at the thought of him in such a role as she enjoyed the comforting bliss of being enveloped in his arms. "You would do well at whatever you chose, and I would be proud to be your wife," she answered honestly. "But you are an important man of industry and belong in the city," she affirmed gently, recognizing his reluctance to leave the country. "I believe you would tire of a simple life of farming. Besides, a mind such as yours is too brilliant to be left in the fields of England. You are far better suited to address the challenges facing industry and propel our nation forward to a grand future," she remarked with easy candor as she moved the sausage about in the pan. "I should not be surprised if you should find yourself working closely with Parliament someday."

Mr. Thornton was astounded at her candid assessment of his abilities. "Margaret, you esteem me too highly, I fear," he replied, modestly doubting her earnest praise. "There are great problems regarding the growth of industry which will be very difficult to surmount," he cautioned. "Yet there is promise as well. I'm afraid I don't have all the answers to navigate the country, much less my own mill, to certain success," he replied with humility.

"I'm certain no one does, but I believe you are apt to discover them more readily than anyone else. You have the wisdom and foresight to make fine judgments, John. I have seen it. I have confidence in your every ability," she declared with solid conviction. "Farmer, indeed," she added quietly to emphasize how ludicrous it would be to have such a man tilling the soil.

Mr. Thornton was struck silent as he considered her generous appraisal of him, her intelligent insight, and her hope for progress. Truly, with Margaret by his side, he felt he could face any challenge. However, he still felt a twinge of guilt to be taking her away from the idyllic countryside of her youth to the gloom and ceaseless turmoil of the city.