A Heart for Milton

A Heart for Milton - Chapter 17

A Heart for Milton - Chapter 17



The partial moon afforded little light, occasionally peeking through thinning gaps in the clouds that hovered over the city. Margaret shivered in her nightgown in the grand bed, and pulled the burgundy bedcover up to her chest. It was unseasonably cold for June; she wondered if she should have asked Dixon to start a fire.

She shifted the pillows behind her and leaned back to read again in the quiet of the night. Her eyes glossed over the words in the book for a moment but then slowly drifted to the empty desk in the shadows. The lamp next to her was a comforting presence, illuminating the area around her with color while fending off the encroaching darkness of the room.

She missed him. For several days now, he had come home to dinner but had returned to his office immediately afterwards to take care of 'pressing matters.' He was pleasant as usual and had spent a leisurely Sunday with her, but Margaret sensed that all was not well. His eyes lacked a certain sparkle and his smile seemed at times tinged with sadness.

She hoped he would come home soon. She had long understood from Nicholas that Mr. Thornton sometimes worked late, and she had fully expected that there might be times in which his work would require much more of his attention From comments she had recently heard, she worried that his work would slowly consume him until he was ragged and worn.

Perhaps it was time for her to ask him what he faced. She knew her husband was well used to struggling alone, and she truly understood that it would be a sore matter of pride for him to speak of the mill's failings. If he only knew how much she wished to aid him! She did not want to be protected from any harsh news - it was much more tolerable to know the truth, however treacherous, than to be left ignorant for sympathy's sake.

Bringing her attention again to the book in her hands, she attempted to read while she waited for his return.

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Margaret woke sometime later to find the book had haplessly fallen onto her lap. She lifted her head dazedly and looked around as it dawned on her that her husband had still not come home. She flung off the bedcovers and swiftly walked to the mantle of the fireplace, where an ornate clock of wood and brass told her it was well past one o'clock.

She let out a sigh of distress at the thought of her husband still bent over his desk long after the looms had ceased their clatter. Turning with decision, she fetched the lamp on the bedside table and hastened to her room to find her warmest dressing gown.


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Mr. Thornton was indeed bent over his desk as he poured over ledgers and account logs, endeavoring to discover how long he might be able to keep the mill in operation. He desperately hoped to discover a way to keep the mill running so that fortune might have a chance to turn its path and bring him new orders and an opportunity to rebound.

He rubbed his brow as his tired eyes strained to add the figures in front of him. He knew he should have stopped long ago, but he had kept telling himself to continue on a bit more. He found it difficult to cease as the facts of his present situation became clearer with every calculation.

In his state of wearied concentration, he did not hear the footsteps along the dark corridors of the empty mill, headed towards his office. He looked up in surprise as his wife opened the door, carrying a lantern and wearing a shawl over her blue flannel dressing-gown.

"Margaret! What are you doing here? Is everything all right?" he asked, suddenly concerned as to the reason she had sought him out.

"Everything at the house is fine, except that my bed is empty," she assured him. "Will you not tell me what it is that takes you from your rightful rest?" she asked, her eyes pleading.

"I did not want to worry you," he began, looking down at the papers in front of him, his brow furrowing at the notion of sharing his unsettling news.

"Then you have failed miserably," she said unequivocally, lifting her chin in defiance of his reasoning.

He startled at her sharp words. His head snapped up to search her face for her meaning as his eyes filled with painful uncertainty.

Seeing his distress, her expression softened. "I have already been worrying - not for the mill...for you," she said softly, caressing his roughened jaw with an outstretched hand. "How can I be a helpmeet to you if you will not share your burden? Let me care for you," she implored, her eyes kindling with tender affection.

Mr. Thornton let out a sigh. How he had longed to give her every comfort - and now she would care for him! Still seated in his chair, he reached out to encircle her in his arms and buried his face against her, feeling the comfort of her soft form, her very fragrance a balm to his soul. "I had wished to care for you," he said softly, feeling acutely the discouragement of being thwarted from providing her the life he had envisioned.

"Am I not cared for?" she asked as she cradled his head, tenderly holding him close to her while running her fingers through his hair. "I have no fear of want. I already possess everything that I desire," she told him truthfully. At her declaration, he held her closer.

She released her hold on him so that she could see his face. "Will you not tell me what is troubling you?" she implored once more, her eyes searching his.

He stared at her before casting his gaze toward the papers on his desk. "Trade is bad," he said simply, his voice deep and solemn. The dark stillness of the mill seemed to echo his gloom.

Margaret felt her body tense in apprehension at his tone, but she was determined to know everything. "How bad?" she probed as her throat went dry. She felt her heart drop at his silence as she waited for his answer.

He looked up at her, his eyes reflecting the sorrow and pain of losing what he had so long worked to build. "Very bad. I fear the mill will be forced to close. There is little hope of recovery now," he told her, feeling a mixture of relief and anguish to have revealed the depths of danger into which his business had sunk.

Margaret was momentarily stunned. Flailing for something to say, she reached to grasp his hand. "Surely there must be some hope. If the mill could be kept going a little longer, trade might again improve," she suggested desperately, unwilling to believe that all her husband's efforts would be for naught.

He looked at her somberly. "The weather has been cool, and there are not as many orders coming in. I will extend operations as long as I am able. That is precisely what has required all my attention. But I also need to know at what point I must stop, so that all my obligations might be paid," he explained.

"Could you not borrow money until trade improves?" she asked awkwardly, despite her certainty that her husband would have already considered every possibility.

"The banks are very hesitant to lend now," he answered gently, sympathetic to her desire to offer help.

He sighed aloud. "There was a speculation offered me some time ago," he mused in his discouragement. "But I did not think it prudent to risk everything for uncertain gain," he confessed, looking to see her reaction.

"Watson's scheme? The one Fanny told me about?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes," he replied, still uncertain what she should think now of his decision.

"I cannot believe that you would be tempted by such a gamble, John. What good would all the riches be if you had compromised your principles?" she exclaimed wonderingly.

He let out a breathy sound of amused relief and pulled her down to sit on his lap, a smile spreading across his face. "Do you know me so well, Margaret?" he asked in amazement. "Will you stand with me even as my honest endeavors are reduced to no effect?"

She took his face between her hands and gazed at him with serious import. "Never to no effect, John. All the good you have done stands as a testament of who you are. I am not afraid to stand with you, John. I know you will do all in your power to stay the storm. We must have faith that there will be recompense for our good endeavors. Circumstances will not change who we are if we continue to hold fast to what is right," she encouraged him, looking deep into his piercing eyes.

Mr. Thornton could only stare back at her in wonder at her steadfastness and faith. Her trust in him gave him a semblance of hope that all would be well, but insidious fear continued to whisper its repetitious refrain of doubt. He did not want to fail her. He clasped her to him and held her tightly, shuddering at the thought of how he could have survived such a trial without her.


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Margaret woke early with her husband the next morning and quickly dressed to join him for his breakfast. She wished to show him her support in every way; it would not do to linger in bed at present when he spent so much time at work.

Hannah Thornton was surprised to see her daughter-in-law, but smiled politely as she joined them for breakfast.

Mr. Thornton apologized for his haste after he had eaten and moved to kiss his mother and wife on the cheek.

Margaret took his hand between hers to stay him for a moment. "Will you eat lunch today?" she asked him as a reminder to take care of himself, studying his face questioningly for his answer.

A warm smile spread over his face. "I make no promises, but I will try," he answered as he gave her hand a squeeze.

Mrs. Thornton watched their exchange, noting Margaret's concern for her son, which was written on her plaintive expression. Perhaps John had at last revealed to her how serious circumstances were at the mill, for the girl bore a manner of solicitude more pronounced and somber than before.

After Mr. Thornton had departed, the room fell into silence as the women drank their tea, both reflecting on the daunting tasks which the Master of Marlborough Mills would face while their day would undoubtedly unfold in much the same pattern as ever.

"I will visit Mary Higgins this morning," Margaret began. "I mean to help some of the worker's children get an education," she announced cautiously, deciding she could no longer keep her activities hidden from her mother-in-law's judgment. "Mr. Thornton is aware of my purpose, and approves of my intentions. I will still happily fulfill my household obligations every day," she added to avoid undue censure, "but I will also be spending time pursuing my plans. I will go to the market this morning on my return. Is there anything that you should like me to purchase?"

Being given little opportunity to equivocate, Hannah was taken aback by the girl's directness. "I believe the cook has a small list," she answered, regarding her son's wife with reluctant respect for her adroit ability to accomplish her designs with a commanding sense of purpose and deft diplomacy. She only hoped that John would not fall prey to his wife's persuasive wiles and sanction her every plea without due consideration of the consequences.

Mrs. Thornton was certain that Margaret's ideals were well intended, but she doubted the wisdom and practicality of attempting to solve the long-standing problems of society at the expense of everything John had worked so hard to build up - namely, the Mill's success and the unquestioned respect of those in the city.


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Margaret enjoyed the freedom of walking the familiar streets and alleyways toward the Princeton district. The squalor and grimness of the place always pulled at her heartstrings, but she had also come to recognize the solidarity and friendliness of the people, which encouraged her to think that their lives were not barren. She perceived in most of them the inherent qualities of man's higher nature that would elevate them above the sordid conditions of their lives and aid them in their determination to better themselves.

She acknowledged women and children she passed, and smiled at their expressions as some of them recognized the Master's wife. It amused her to think of how horrified Aunt Shaw and Edith would be to know of her daily walks. Margaret was keenly aware of the liberty afforded her in marrying Mr. Thornton. She did not know many husbands of similar standing who would allow their wives to wander the more dismal parts of the city all alone. Henry would have sorely disapproved, she felt, shuddering at the thought of being held in a restrictive marriage. No, she was grateful to have found someone who understood her independent nature.

Last night, after they had both returned home, Margaret had suggested that she drop her plans for the school. Her husband had insisted, however, that she should continue despite the circumstances. He reminded her that the supplies had already been purchased and that there was little cost in setting up the room. He was also concerned that she have some occupation that gave her pleasure.

When Margaret arrived at Higgins' humble and cramped home, she helped Mary tidy the main room, gathering little Joseph Boucher into her arms as his surrogate mother quickly swept the floor. Mary was excited to hear more of Margaret's plans to begin schooling some of the children, and told her friend that several other families would like their children to attend.

Margaret walked with Mary and the children to a neighbor's where the children would stay while Mary went to prepare lunch for the workers at Marlborough Mills. The two young women walked together until Margaret parted ways to go to the market.

Sometime later, Margaret emerged from the chemist's shop with a few small packages, her basket already laden with fruit and sundry other items. She sauntered down the high street and stopped to look at flowers for sale by an aging woman in a faded cambric dress.

Further down the same street, Albert Slickson spied the lovely Mrs. Thornton as she bent to smell some lavender and selected a few bunches to carry in her basket. He stepped to the curb at once and, dodging the carts and people massing in the cobbled street, briskly crossed to the other side to catch her eye.

The dashing young student ambled toward Margaret with a feigned nonchalance and waited with civil courtesy for her to recognize him. His inward smile swiftly manifested itself on his lips as her eyes met his and she slowed and then stopped.

"Mr. Slickson," Margaret greeted him politely as he tipped his hat.

"Mrs. Thornton. So pleased to see you again," Albert replied warmly.

"I hope you are enjoying your stay in Milton, learning our northern ways," she commented with good humor.

"Indeed, there is much to note about the difference in the way things are done here. I am inclined to think that such cities of industry as this will propel all of England into the future," he remarked with an air of respect.

"I am pleased that you think so. You will be interested to know that I am beginning a school for the workers' children," she continued, remembering their previous conversations at the ball.

"A capital idea! That is another point I have discerned about the pace of life here: in London we must discuss at great length any grand ideas for progress before they are implemented, whereas here in Milton an idea put forth seems to be immediately acted upon. I am impressed with your swift initiative," Albert praised her. "And is Mr. Thornton involved in your endeavor?" he asked with particular interest, wondering to what degree the Mistress of Marlborough Mills was supervised by her husband.

"He approves, of course, but I'm afraid he is much too engaged with business at present to offer his assistance," she answered somewhat uncomfortably.

"Of course, I understand. There is a dampening of trade currently. I imagine your husband must be very involved in his business as of late," he remarked smoothly.

"Yes, he is," Margaret replied, her polite smile tinged with sadness at the thought of the many hours her husband was forced to spend at the Mill.

"I mustn't keep you any longer. I wish you well in your new enterprise. Perhaps I could visit your school to see for myself how such a place can be run," Albert suggested hopefully.

"Of course. Perhaps in a week or two," she responded pleasantly. "Good day."

"Good day, ma'am," Albert replied with a gallant nod and tip of his hat. He walked half a block away before turning discreetly to catch a glimpse of Margaret's retreating figure.

Unbeknownst to either of them, Miss Latimer had spotted Mr. Slickson and the Mistress of Marlborough Mills upon coming out of the milliner's shop and had observed with great interest the animated conversation between them. She recalled how uninhibited the parson's daughter seemed to be with her words and remembered, too, with haughty disdain the rumors that had circulated about Margaret last winter that she had been seen alone with a man at dusk at Outwood Station.

Miss Latimer smiled smugly to herself as she casually inspected the wares of the fruit vendor. Perhaps Mr. Thornton should have been more careful in his choice of a wife, she mused.


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Margaret busied herself the remainder of the day, spending a good deal of time in the kitchen, much to Mrs. Thornton's surprise. When the young woman had finished her task and given the cook her final instructions, she went upstairs to arrange a few things, take a short rest, and change for dinner.

She sat later in the drawing room with her mother-in-law, eagerly awaiting her husband's return from work. She had requested that he make every effort to come home for dinner each evening. Attempting to read the book in her hands, she listened intently for the sound of his footsteps and sighed in happy satisfaction when at last she finally heard them.

Taking pains to greet him with the restraint required in his mother's presence, she nevertheless grasped his arms and stretched up to give him an affectionate kiss on the lips.

Mr. Thornton reveled in the warm welcome he received as he grasped his wife's waist lightly, feeling the urge to return her enthusiasm with a kiss that would not be appropriate in his mother's view. He would be glad to come home to dinner every night with such attentions as these, he mused, studying his wife's lips for a brief moment before releasing her and greeting his mother.

Margaret accompanied him as he headed upstairs to wash, mentioning that she wished to show him something that she had purchased.

They had only reached the landing at the top of the stairs when Mr. Thornton swiftly took her into his strong embrace and kissed her as he had longed to just moments before. He felt a thrill of lustful desire as she immediately melded to him, putting herself under his power. They kissed as starving lovers, having not come together in several days.

He tore himself away from her to pull out his pocket watch, fairly quaking with ardent desire. "Dinner is at half past?" he asked.

She nodded her accord, breathless from the yearning he had wrought in her.

"We have yet twenty minutes," he answered, his eyes alight with triumphal determination. He scooped her up into his arms without another word and bounded for the bedroom door.


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Hannah Thornton waited patiently as her son and his wife arrived at the table a few minutes late. Margaret self-consciously felt to check the pins in her hair as Mr. Thornton helped his wife to her seat. Mrs. Thornton eyed her son as their dinner was served and marveled at how radiantly happy he appeared despite the current circumstances at the mill. She glanced at Margaret, whose distractedness had dissolved into effusive joy as she observed her husband's delight in the meal she had specifically chosen for him.

The elder woman could not help but be glad about her daughter-in-law's evident care for her son. Mrs. Thornton remembered how worried she had been last summer when her son had become distracted with events concerning the strike and subsequent riot, and had had little concern for food or proper rest. She was pleased and not a little relieved to see that Margaret would tend to him during this difficult time when all was uncertain. She was a good wife to him.

Margaret spoke of her plans for helping the workers' children, and Mrs. Thornton listened without comment, taking her son's responses as her cue to keep silent with her own reservations about such undertakings. She did not wish to disturb the evening with her objections.

Margaret smiled when dessert was served and bowed her head humbly when it was announced that the young mistress herself had made fresh gooseberry tarts.

Mr. Thornton looked at his wife with surprise and admiration, feeling a flood of affection for the effort she had taken to please him.

She beamed at his praise and mentioned that she sometimes enjoyed baking, and would especially enjoy it now that she knew it would please him.

When dinner was over, Mr. Thornton was again obliged to excuse himself to continue his work. However, this time he brought his ledgers and papers to the desk in his room as his wife had suggested the evening before.

Margaret stayed in the drawing room with her mother-in-law for a while, but found she could not concentrate on her reading. "Would you mind if I excused myself? I think I should like to write to Edith tonight," she asked her husband's mother.

"Not at all," Mrs. Thornton replied with a sliver of a smile as she looked up briefly from her needlework.

Margaret climbed the stairs with a determination not to bother her husband, and entered her room quietly to write to her cousin as she had mentioned. She described the recent ball as she had promised, but carefully omitted telling her of the recent disturbance in the economy and John's trouble with the mill.

When she had finished, she could no longer bear to remain alone in her room and ventured to see how her husband was faring with his work.

He gave her a smile as she walked into the richly toned room.

She walked over to stand behind him and began to rub his shoulders, feeling the muscles through the thin cotton of his shirt. "Are you comfortable working here?" she asked with a knowing smile.

"I am. It is a great deal more comfortable than my office," he admitted. "The room smells of Helstone," he added, referring to the fresh lavender she had placed in the room.

"It is just as I desired. If you must work, I see no reason why you cannot do so in pleasant surroundings," she reasoned as she continued to work on his taut muscles.

He set his quill down and relaxed in the bliss of her vigorous attentions. "I think you shall quite spoil me," he remarked, his voice revealing the pleasure he took in her care.

"Then I have succeeded as a good wife. I wish to help you in whatever way I am able. But don't let me be a distraction," she added. "Will it bother you if I come later to read in bed?"

"No, I would like your company," he answered truthfully. The bleakness of his accounting seemed mercifully lessened with her nearby. Her presence gave him reason to hope.

"Then you shall have it," she replied and left him to dress for bed, although it was still early in the evening.

She dressed in her nightgown and read in the great bed, in perfect contentment to be in the same room as him. And when he at last turned out his lamp and prepared for bed, she set her book aside and waited for him to join her under the covers. She ran her hand along his darkened jaw and began to rub the muscles at the back of his neck. He gave her a grateful kiss and turned to offer her his back as well, sighing in the comfort of her soothing skills.

At length, she snuggled against him and whispered her affections in his ear. He took her hand, kissed it and held it against his chest as he fell asleep.

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The next week, Margaret began her teaching. The building by the worker's hall had been cleaned and patched by Higgins and other workers after hours.

Upwards of twenty children filled the open room with eager if not altogether clean faces. Some of the children had learned to read a little, but others barely knew their letters. A few of them would work at the mill the latter half of the day. The young Mrs. Thornton hoped to find a suitable teacher for them soon, as it would be daunting work to settle them all in a course of learning tailored to their varying needs. She did her best to discern what each child knew, and by the end of the week had an acceptable routine that kept her students busy learning the basics of reading and writing.

As the morning drew to a close, the children were busy copying on their blackboards the various lessons written on the large board at the front of the room when Margaret heard a noise from the doorway.

"Mr. Slickson," Margaret called out, surprised to see the young gentleman come through the open door.

"Albert, please," he insisted with a broad smile. "I've come to see your school as you suggested," he said, dropping his voice in response to her gesture to be quiet while the children worked.

"Take a look around if you wish," Mrs. Thornton invited, pleased to have someone take an interest in her efforts.

He walked silently around the room, impressed at the children's diligence and good behavior. The room was plain but clean, and the children had no qualms about sitting on the floor for lack of furniture.

His eyes soon returned, however, to the subject that most attracted his attention.

Margaret stood calmly looking out the door towards her husband's office, waiting for the whistle to sound the lunch hour, when the children would depart for the day.

Mr. Slickson thought her face angelic as he noted a faint smile cross her features. The open lace of her black blouse revealed the creamy flesh of her forearms, and the muslin skirt fit snugly at her small waist. He had never met any woman quite like her and was taken with her energetic spirit and obvious intelligence as well as her refined grace and delicate beauty. He had begun to think that he should like to marry just such a woman, if indeed, there was any other that could compare.

He approached her when she at last turned her attention toward him once more. "You have done admirably well in your endeavors, Mrs. Thornton," he praised her with sincerity.

The whistle blew at his last words and the children began to stream out the door. "Good day, Mrs. Thornton," they said politely in turn as she had taught them, before bounding outside to find their parents.

"And you have done all this yourself?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, I have not yet found a suitable teacher to take my place. My husband is very supportive, but he can hardly afford the time to help me in my endeavors," she answered, feeling slightly discomforted to be alone with him in the room.

"In the meantime, I would like to make a few excursions with the children. I was thinking of taking them to the park next week. They seldom get the opportunity to run and disport themselves as children ought," she explained as she led him out of doors.

Albert's hazel eyes sparkled at her revelation, his mind quickly devising a course of action. "Indeed! You are very solicitous of their needs. I should not have thought of such a thing," he commended her.

"I'm glad you approve," she responded, giving him an appreciative smile.

Albert flashed her a brilliant smile. Glancing at the crowd behind her, he reluctantly prepared to take his leave. "I hope I will see you again soon. I should like to hear more of your enterprise. Good day to you," he said as he tipped his hat before striding with vigor across the yard.

Margaret turned to find her husband coming to meet her as they had planned. She was happy to eat with him at the workers' kitchen on occasion. On those days, she knew at least he was eating his lunch. She smiled warmly as he grew nearer.

He returned her smile and took her arm under his to lead the way to the canteen. "Was that Mr. Slickson's nephew that I saw just leaving?" he asked curiously, his brow furrowed slightly as they walked.

"Oh, yes. He was very interested to see the school," she answered simply with a little pride.

Mr. Thornton nodded his head in acknowledgement but wondered if the school was indeed the only thing the young man was interested in. He glanced unconsciously in the direction where Margaret's visitor had disappeared before turning his full attention back to his wife.


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On Saturday evening, Margaret drew a hot bath for her husband using some of the lavender bath salts she had purchased at the chemist's shop. She lit a few candles and snuffed out the lamp, hoping the warmth and dim light of the room would help him to relax before bed.

With a secretive smile, she went to retrieve him, slipping her arms around his chest from behind as he sat at his desk in the study. "Your bath awaits you," she informed him, rubbing her cheek against the stubble of his face.

"Am I obliged to come at once?" he asked teasingly as he brought his broad hands up to hold her own, pressing her hands firmly against his chest in an effort to keep her close to him.

"You are. You cannot be seen with such hands as these at church on the morrow," she chastised him lovingly, holding his hand out to see the ink stains on his fingers.

He smiled wryly at her observation, feeling the poignancy of her care for him. He did not forget that she could have chosen to marry a gentleman, someone who did not have to toil in such conditions as he did to provide her with a comfortable living.

"Then I will come. I would not wish to embarrass you," he retorted as he got up from his chair.

She brought his hand up to her lips and kissed it tenderly in response, looking at him with luminous eyes that spoke more than mere words could convey.

She kept hold of his hand as she led him upstairs and ushered him to the bath. She closed the door behind her and left to return to her room, but returned on impulse a few minutes later to tap lightly on the door.

"Have I forgotten anything? Are you well settled?" she asked through the paneled wood.

He glanced around him, quickly looking for any excuse for her to enter. "I'm afraid the soap is out of my reach," he answered truthfully as he sat in the bath, seeing it on the counter just across from him. He smiled deviously as he heard the door click at her entrance.

She found the bar of soap and handed it to him, acknowledging him briefly before bashfully averting her eyes.

He took the soap with one hand and deftly grasped her wrist with the other before she could withdraw.

"Will you wash my back?" he asked, his eyes pleading for her to stay longer.

She opened her mouth to protest, but could not find a suitable response as she met his gaze. She stood still to communicate her willingness to comply. Looking at the lace of her sleeves she realized she would need to change. She extracted herself gently from his grasp and turned to unbutton her blouse. Folding it gently on the counter, she returned to him in her sleeveless camisole.

She wet the castile soap and lathered his back. Her breath came slow and even as she watched in fascination as her hands slid over the slippery surface of his broad back. She helped him wash his hair next, pouring water over his dark hair with a pitcher as she stared at the back of his neck, longing to feel his skin with her lips. Setting down the pitcher at last, she followed her impulse and glided her hands over his shoulders to his chest, leaning over to place a kiss just behind his ear.

He took hold of her hands and pulled her closer, bringing her almost flush against him. Her heart beat faster at his ardent gesture.

"Come in with me," he requested compellingly, tugging her arm to bring her around to face him.

"I could not!" she declared, shocked at his demand. Having always been banned from a portion of the house whenever Fred or her father were bathing, her sense of propriety was deeply ingrained.

"No one would be the wiser," he gently coaxed her, loosening his hold but maintaining contact with her hands.

Entranced by the imploring intensity of his deep blue eyes, she felt her resolve falter. She took a step back to distance herself a moment, wavering between what her heart wanted and what she had long believed must be indecent.

She glanced again at her husband and mused that he only wished to enjoy her company. She longed to please him. They had already shared every intimacy, she reminded herself. Finding herself at a loss to explain to him her refusal, she began to unfasten her skirt, stepping out of it and her petticoats. She hesitated, unable to bring herself to undress further.

Coming to him in her camisole and drawers, she began to smile at her hesitation. "You are wicked to propose such a thing," she scolded him as she stepped carefully into the bath opposite him, taking his hand to steady herself.

He could not suppress his delight in her concession, and grinned as she scolded him; all the while his eyes avidly took in the sight of her thinly clad form as the fabric quickly soaked and clung to her skin.

Avoiding his gaze, she decided to make herself useful and took up the soap and brush to clean the ink from his fingers.

Mr. Thornton studied her in fascination as she worked, amazed that she should be there with him. He had not thought such a thing possible and had half expected that she would decline his request. She had surprised him once more with her willingness to break with convention.

"There! Now you are fit to be seen with me," she announced with a haughty tone as she finished her task, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes.

"And shall I tell everyone the great lengths to which you will go to see that I am presentable?" he taunted, barely able to contain his mirth at such a proposal.

Her mouth flew open in mortification at the very suggestion and he laughed out loud at her expression.

"You are horrible!" she declared in response, splashing water at him with a flick of her hand.

He laughed only harder at her attempt to punish him and grasping her under the knees, drew her closer to him, desiring to make amends. She feigned reluctance to forgive him, resisting his efforts to hold her by the arms, but his laughter reached to the depths of her heart and she could not restrain her delight in bringing him such joy. She let him pull her closer, and clambered to her knees to situate herself nearer him, giggling at their encounter even as Mr. Thornton began to kiss her in earnest.

They laughed softly between kisses, the sloshing water only amplifying the awkwardness of their amorous movements. Mr. Thornton had never been more enchanted, finding his wife utterly irresistible. Their laughter faded as their ardor for one another grew, and their kisses became more fervent.

When he could stand it no longer, Mr. Thornton hoisted himself and his wife upright and they climbed out of the bath. Quickly wrapping a towel around himself, he handed his wife a towel. She dried herself a little before peeling off her wet garments. Mr. Thornton graciously handed her his dressing gown. He opened the door to furtively scan the hallway. Seeing that they were alone, he opened it wide to allow his Margaret to scamper across to their bedroom before he swiftly followed her.

They hurried to the bed with broad smiles and, dropping their wrappings, delved under the covers to accomplish what had been frustratingly thwarted in the bath.

Remaining in their room for the rest of the evening, they happily languished in each other's arms as they talked, setting aside the worries of the mill for a time.


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As July progressed, warmer days punctuated the cooler weather at intervals. On one such morning when the opened windows did little to stir the air, Mr. Thornton stood up from the breakfast table and gave his mother and wife a quick kiss as was his custom before he departed. His schedule had been sternly demanding, but his heart was light in the company of the women he loved.

After her son had gone, Hannah Thornton cast a discerning eye on her daughter-in-law, and watched with knowing sympathy as she nibbled slightly at her toast and dabbed at the eggs on her plate with little interest. This was the third morning that she had not really eaten her breakfast, but had surreptitiously sipped her tea while her husband swiftly breakfasted and departed for the mill.

The elder woman might have assumed the girl was merely tired from matching John's morning schedule so regularly, but when she had risen from the table the morning before with an ashen face and a hasty excuse that she must go to her room for a while, Mrs. Thornton's suspicions had been greatly aroused. However, Margaret had seemed well the rest of the day.

Seated next to her now, she noted that Margaret was again a little pale.

"I found it helped to eat a little, even when it did not appeal," Mrs. Thornton thoughtfully encouraged her daughter-in-law. "Some toast might help settle your stomach," she advised quietly as her gaze met Margaret's surprised and expressive eyes. The young wife looked relieved and anxious all at once to have her secret discovered.

"Thank you," Margaret replied softly, and took a tentative bite of toast as she was bidden.

"Have you told John yet?" Mrs. Thornton probed gently, doubting that her son was even aware of the monthly occurrences that a women normally experienced.

"No," Margaret answered, swallowing the food that she had reluctantly taken into her mouth. She took another sip of tea to chase the toast down before speaking again. "I wasn't quite certain myself. I wanted to wait a bit to be sure. I thought perhaps it was the recent heat that made me feel unwell, but I suppose there is no denying it now," she admitted with a short laugh at her own uncertainty.

"The morning sickness will pass before long," her mother-in-law assured her with a kind upturn of her lips.

"Yes, I know. Edith also was indisposed for a short time each morning, but it did not seem to last very many weeks." Margaret replied with a hopeful smile. She did not relish enduring these queasy sensations for any length of time.

Mrs. Thornton noted the girl's wan look with compassion. "Take rest if you need it, Margaret. You must take good care yourself - and of my grandchild," she added with a sparkle in her eye and a warm smile. She placed her hand over Margaret's and gave it a squeeze.

Margaret returned the knowing smile and placed her other hand over her mother-in-law's, feeling a wonderful comfort to receive her blessing and compassion.

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Margaret sat on the edge of her bed, twisting the loose fabric of her white robe into knots. She stood up decisively only to hesitate as she walked to and from the wardrobe to her bed and sat down again.

She chastised herself for being so nervous. She was certain he would gladly receive her news. If only the timing of events had not been so unfortunate! She did not want to add to his burden with news of a coming child.

She smiled to recall how wonderful he had been with the children they had met in Helstone. What a glorious father he would be! She was quite certain he would be pleased to have a family.

Standing up again, she told herself it would do no good to dither about it all night. There was nothing that could be done. She had to let him know - she ached to tell him, to have him exclaim his joy and take her into his arms.

She decided to go downstairs first and fetch him something to eat. Then, she would tell him.


********************


Margaret entered their bedroom carrying a small tray with a mug of hot chocolate and some biscuits and set it down on a corner of his desk.

He looked up from his work to acknowledge her and glance at her offering. Smiling, her husband wrapped an arm around her waist and brought her to him, settling her on his lap. She smiled anxiously and loosely wound her arms around his neck in return.

"You have been so good to me," he declared with an affectionate gaze.

"Have I?" she answered somewhat distractedly, finding herself staring at the skin at the base of his throat, his shirt casually unbuttoned for his comfort.

"You have," he affirmed, studying the features of her face as she held her gaze downward.

She looked up to him, her eyes wide with anxiety for what she had to say. "John," she began quietly, having gained his attention.

He waited with a faint smile for what she wished to tell him, supposing she had more suggestions for her endeavors with the school.

"I am with child," she said at last, studying him carefully for his reaction.

His smile dissipated in his astonishment, struck dumb by her revelation. His eyes swept to her stomach as he touched her reverently where she would soon swell. "A child?" he repeated, attempting to comprehend what she had just told him as a tremor of emotion began to take over him. She was carrying his child! He would be a father!

"Are you not pleased?" she questioned with concern at his distant gaze.

He jerked his head to look at her in wonderment, coming awake to the feeling of exuberance that was beginning to take hold of him. "Am I not pleased?" he repeated, incredulous that she should ask such a thing. "How can I not be pleased with such a gift?" he asked, taking her face into his hands. "Margaret, I love you. I will welcome with joy any such gifts from our marriage," he stated honestly, his face now beaming with undeniable happiness.

She smiled with glad relief.

"When?" he asked with eager curiosity.

"I believe it will be sometime in February, or perhaps early March," she answered, glowing with the joy of his excitement.

"I see," he replied, thinking how long they had to wait. His face lit with eager anticipation as he thought of announcing their news. "Shall we tell mother?" he asked with an earnest expression.

Margaret almost laughed at his boyish eagerness. "I'm afraid she has already guessed," she replied.

He gave her a quizzical glance.

"I have not recently had much appetite at breakfast," she explained.

His countenance changed instantly to one of concern. "You are ill?" he asked, his eyes full of worry.

"No, no," she assured him. "I believe it is quite common the first few months to feel a little unwell in the morning. Edith had the same complaint," she explained.

"A baby," he murmured in wonder, still overcome by the unexpected news.

"Yes," she confirmed with a glorious smile as she caught his gaze and wrapped her arms around his neck a bit tighter.

"Margaret!" he breathed, crushing her to him, albeit more gently now, afraid he might somehow hurt her. She would bring him every precious thing, all that he had thought might never be his to enjoy. He blinked away the tears he felt welling in his eyes. How truly blessed he was! He did not care at this moment what fate would bring. He could weather any storm, as long she would love him.

Tears of relief and joy silently fell from Margaret's eyes as she held tightly to him. He had been pleased with her news. He would tenderly provide for her and any children they might have, she was certain of it. She cared not if circumstances reduced them to a more modest living. She could be happy anywhere as long as they were together.

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