A Heart for Milton

A Heart for Milton - Chapter 18

A Heart for Milton - Chapter 18



The Master of Marlborough Mills scanned past the streaming crowd of workers for a glimpse of his wife. Alert to the noon whistle on Tuesdays, he looked forward to eating his lunch in the worker's hall with Margaret; not only did it divide his day with a needed break, but he relished every opportunity to be with her.

The dry mill yard sent up a fine cloud of dust as innumerable boots and clogs pounded the ground. As the swarm of drab colored figures dispersed, Mr. Thornton caught sight of her. She stood facing him with her arms loosely holding her summer shawl about her shoulders. Errant wisps of hair caressed her face in the faint breeze as she smiled at him, her lips slightly parted and her eyes filled with a tenderness he knew was meant only for him. He felt his heart lift; the care-worn expression and creased lines of his forehead dissolved as he approached the woman he loved.

His gaze was torn between the allure of her shining eyes and her soft, pink lips. Restraining the urge to pull her flush against him and kiss her, he politely offered her his arm to lead her to the canteen. "How was your morning?" he asked upon reaching her, recalling that she had planned to take the children to the park.

"The children had a wonderful time. It was quite a morning!" she happily enthused, pleased that her excursion had been a success.

Mr. Thornton smiled at the thought of his wife watching over twenty-odd children running to and fro. "How did you manage all those children?" he wondered aloud as they reached the worker's dining hall.

"Oh, I was a little worried, but everything came about just perfectly. Mr. Slickson happened by and stayed to help me watch over everyone," she blithely told him.

Mr. Thornton frowned as he assisted his wife to her seat and moved to sit next to her. Mary promptly delivered steaming bowls of stew before them and then retreated.

"Mr. Slickson, the young nephew from university?" he queried in as casual a tone as he could muster.

"Yes, he is very supportive of all my endeavors. He was quite happy to stop and assist in keeping the children from becoming too unruly," she answered with an innocent smile.

"I see," Mr. Thornton replied, noting Margaret's eager expression with tug of tender affection for her naivetée. She did not perceive that her rare beauty and infectious spirit might draw the attentions of other men, instead supposing Mr. Slickson was genuine in his interest in her work. Mr. Thornton wished he could be as magnanimous in his assumptions, but could not shake the growing suspicion that the handsome London visitor was overly fond of his wife.


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Margaret's eyes roved over the collection of porcelain objects displayed on the walnut what-not, the towering exotic fern behind the plush ocher sofa, and the carefully arranged clutter of stools, tables, and furniture that abounded in Fanny Watson's extravagant drawing room. Her gaze returned once again to the intricate gold pattern of the Indian wallpaper as she listened to Fanny regale her mother of her plans to redecorate her bedchamber and the adjoining sitting room.

"Have you begun to prepare a nursery, Margaret?" Fanny eagerly asked her, bringing Margaret's attention back to the conversation at hand.

"No, not yet. I'm sure there will be plenty of time to arrange everything," Margaret offered as an excuse. In truth, she still found herself bewildered at times that she was indeed expecting. It had only been a little over a week since she had revealed her condition to John. She would have preferred to keep it private for a while longer, but knew her husband had been fairly bursting to tell his family of his latest news.

"I must confess it is a surprise to hear you will be starting your family so soon. Perhaps it won't be long before I bear similar news," Fanny remarked, a trifle jealous that her brother's wife would be the one to provide the first grandchild in the family. "John seems very pleased. I can hardly believe he will be a father! How exciting that I shall be an aunt! We must go shopping together for the things you will need," she suggested with enthusiasm and then began to tell of the shops that would carry the finest goods as Margaret politely inclined her head and listened.


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In the neighboring room, Mr. Thornton declined the proffered cigar from Watson with a polite smile and shake of his head. He was happy to dine at his sister's house on occasion, but dreaded the tedious custom of being sequestered with his brother-in-law while the women withdrew to hold their own conversations. He had little in common with his sister's husband, even though they both had similar responsibilities as masters of local cotton mills.

Watson lit a cigar and gave a few puffs with satisfaction. Turning to the sideboard, he poured a small glass of port and handed it to the father-to-be. "So you are to be a family man! I was just growing accustomed to your being married. The country air in Helstone must have been quite invigorating, eh, Thornton?" he remarked with a suggestive arch of his eyebrow and sly grin.

Mr. Thornton did not deign to respond, recalling with disgust the reason he avoided going to the gentleman's clubs the other masters so frequently attended. He often found the conversation at such places crude and offensive. "How are you faring in this dismal economy?" he asked his colleague, changing the subject to matters of business.

"I've got the situation under control. I believe I have enough capital at present to wait out this damned downturn, no thanks to my dear wife. She's spent a small fortune on decorating this old bachelor's home of mine with whatever suits her fancy. But, I'll have to keep her spending in check until my investments come through," Watson explained with confidence. With a hint of disapproval, he continued, "I hear your wife has been busy starting up some kind of school for the working poor."

"She has - with my approval, of course," Mr. Thornton replied in defense of his Margaret's ambitious plans. "I am aware of her activities," he added.

"Are you?'' Watson retorted doubtfully, pulling the cigar from between his teeth to carefully study his brother-in-law for his gullibility. The stench of smoke filled the paneled room.

Mr. Thornton's eyes narrowed as he stared at his brother-in-law in rising indignation. "What do you mean?" he demanded evenly, the deep undertones of his voice reverberating a warning. His body tensed in foreboding at Watson's tone.

"I'm just saying that I'd not let my wife go gallivanting about as she pleased. I'd keep a tighter rein on that one, Thornton, that's all," Watson cautiously advised, shaking his head warily.

Mr. Thornton's anger flared at such counsel. "Margaret may be unconventional in her actions, but I trust her implicitly to use her own good judgment in conducting her affairs," he replied with tempered vehemence. A twinge of doubt clouded his confidence as he remembered with chagrin that Margaret could be rash and impulsive when her passions were ignited. Had she done something to cause censure from those with more tepid natures and minds, he wondered?

"Then let me take this opportunity to caution you as a brother that however noble her intentions, it would be best not to be seen so often in the company of that young Slickson dandy," Watson exclaimed, jutting his chin ever so slightly in the air to punctuate his advice.

Mr. Thornton's blood ran cold to have his fears confirmed. Others had noticed it as well: the young man was attracted to his wife. Indignation welled up inside him as he thought of how his wife might be innocent prey to Albert's illicit affections and the scandalous gossip of the city. "A coincidental meeting in a public park is hardly fodder for tittle-tattle, especially when children are running all about," he countered, increasingly incensed that Margaret should be subject to such talk.

Watson's expression indicated faint surprise that Thornton was indeed aware of his wife's goings on. "I'm not saying there's anything to it, just that there is talk," he retorted somewhat defensively before returning to his cigar with renewed interest.

Mr. Thornton nodded his head in fair acknowledgement of the warning, his defiant stance slowly yielding to his habitual impenetrable demeanor. He turned the conversation to other matters with an impassive expression, but beneath his rigid exterior his mind roiled with suspicion and agitation that Margaret might lie in some danger.


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The guests rode home in silence, their inclination for conversation exhausted. Margaret considered the fretful time and energy that Fanny must expend in creating a showcase of her home, while Mrs. Thornton quietly reminded herself of her good fortune in living with John and his wife.

Mr. Thornton's hand gently gripped his wife's as he steadily stared out into the dark. Shaken by Watson's revelations, he contemplated what he should do. Going over in his mind all the times he had seen Slickson near his wife, he was certain that Margaret suspected neither the idle talk about her nor the young man's inordinate attention. He did not want to disturb her with contemptible rumors, nor did he feel a word of warning concerning Albert would be well received.

He decided to let the matter be, although he determined he would keep a vigilant watch for Slickson's appearance anywhere near the mill. Thankfully, it was nearly August, and the London student would soon return to university come autumn. It would be well had he never arrived in Milton, Mr. Thornton thought as he turned his gaze to his wife and gave her hand a squeeze.


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As he climbed into bed that night, Mr. Thornton leaned over to brush his lips against his wife's for a good-night kiss before settling his head on the pillow.

In the darkness, Margaret let out a slow sigh as she found herself once again facing her husband's shoulder. He had not touched her since she had announced her pregnancy. She had reasoned, at first, that he might think her condition too delicate. Perhaps it was; she had no knowledge of such things. But as each night came and they shared a tepid bed, she could not help but ruminate. Did the stress of his work drain him of all desire? Had he somehow lost interest in her? She could not bear to think that the passion they had shared was now over. She fretted for some time before finally closing her eyes and allowing sleep to overtake her.

Mr. Thornton heard the sound of her breathing change, and emitted a long sigh of relief and frustration. She was safely asleep at last. As each night approached, he found himself increasingly agitated. How long he could endure the torment of his longing he did not know, nor did he see how he could discover the knowledge he sought. He did not wish to bring any harm to his unborn child, and worried how he should be expected to refrain from claiming his privileges for the months ahead.

Last night, when she had rubbed his shoulders and pressed her lithe body against his back, he had burned with the temptation to press her beneath him and take her as his wife. Instead, he had taken her hand and held it to him to halt her seductive touch.

He sensed her disappointment in the nightly kisses he bestowed, but he could not trust himself to offer her anything beyond a touch of his lips, knowing how their deeper kisses could ignite him in an instant.

He turned from the sight of her, and prayed that somehow he would be saved from this nightly torture.


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Early the next morning, Margaret left the house to visit Mary Higgins. She was eager to tell her friend her news, knowing that the taciturn girl would keep it a secret.

Mary was excited for the young mistress and gave Margaret a quick hug upon Margaret's revelation, an unusual gesture for the generally recalcitrant girl. "Oh, Miss Margaret! You'll be a wonderful mother, to be sure!" she exclaimed. "The Master must be pleased," she surmised.

"Yes," Margaret responded, beaming from the excitement of her friend.

"Oh, you must see Mrs. McKnight!" Mary declared in earnest.

Margaret gave her a curious look. "The midwife Dr. Donaldson spoke to me of?" she inquired.

"Yes, that's the one! She's the very best in the city. Why, even the finer folks call on her. Her husband was a shop owner, but now she lives with her son and his wife in Crampton, not so far from your old house I reckon. Anyway, she's not so grand as to turn up her nose at us working folks, and she's respectable enough to be called to those finer homes out by your way. She saved Mrs. Pritchett around the corner from a terrible time with her first 'un. If you'll pardon me from saying so," she added, suddenly flustered to hint at the pain involved in labor.

"No, no, I appreciate your recommendation. Dr. Donaldson mentioned that she often assists him. I will be interested to seek her out. Thank you, Mary," she consoled her friend with her grateful thanks.

Mary smiled brightly, the trepidation vanishing from her eyes, pleased to have helped the young mistress.


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The next afternoon, Margaret took the familiar path to Crampton. She felt impelled to seek out the popular midwife after hearing Mary's praise. Dr. Donaldson had also recommended her as a helpful aide and Margaret's interest had piqued when the kind doctor hinted that the midwife could help answer any questions she might have regarding womanly issues. Just a few blocks away from her former home, she climbed the clean gray steps to a painted door and rang the bell.

Upon inquiring after Mrs. McKnight, Margaret was eventually led into a quiet parlor where heavily brocaded drapes kept the room perpetually dim. A thick-boned lady beyond her middle years stood up to greet her, her bright eyes exuding an energy her wrinkled face betrayed. "Adiara McKnight," she introduced herself, her Scottish brogue expressed in the simple utterance of her name.

Margaret warmed instantly to her kindly smile and firm handshake. "Margaret Thornton. I've come to speak to you about having a baby," she explained with a faint blush.

"Of course you have, my dear. I'm pleased to meet you. Mrs. Thornton, is it? You live at Marlborough Mills, is that right? My husband always spoke kindly of Mr. Thornton. Are you recently married?" she inquired straightaway, receiving a quiet nod in response. "Now, sit down with me and let's talk about this baby," she invited with sweep of her arm toward a comfortable chair.

After the spry elderly lady had asked several questions and explained a little about what Margaret could expect as the months rolled by, Mrs. McKnight gladly confirmed that she would be willing to take the case. Margaret thanked her, having come to trust the woman's forthright and friendly manner.

"Now, are there any other questions you may have?" the experienced midwife asked the young mother-to-be.

Margaret opened her mouth hesitantly before closing it again and cast her eyes to the floor.

"Don't be shy, now, I've been around for quite some time. I have heard everything, my dear," she encouraged her gently.

Gathering her courage, Margaret opened her mouth to speak again. "I was wondering if there is any harm to the baby in..." she began, but could not continue, feeling her face flush at her unspoken question.

Mrs. McKnight smiled knowingly. "It is a very common question, dearie. You wish to know if lovemaking will be harmful to the child. That depends," she said with a lilt.

Margaret's bowed head snapped up to search the elder woman's face, caught off guard by the midwife's unexpected response. Mrs. McKnight's eyes twinkled with merriment.

"It depends on whether you wish to dissuade your husband from visiting your bed, or if you are comfortable with his attentions," she said with a sly smile.

Margaret smiled at her implication, remembering that there must be plenty of women, such as Fanny, that would appreciate an excuse to keep their husbands at bay for a time. "No, I...I am very fond of my husband," she answered falteringly, unavoidably feeling her face warm again.

"Then I will tell you that there is no harm in receiving your husbands attentions. Gentle care will be needed when the baby grows bigger, of course. Let your own judgment guide you and I'm sure all will be well," she candidly advised, showing no compunction in speaking of such intimate matters.

"Thank you, you have been very helpful," Margaret said, flooded with a sense of relief to have been enlightened on a multitude of issues that had been a source of anxious concern.

After saying her goodbyes, Margaret took her leave of the kind woman who felt already like a familiar friend. She took a deep breath as the door closed behind her. She was glad to have come - she felt better prepared to face the coming months with equanimity and joy.


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Later that evening, Margaret wrote a letter to her brother at her desk while John poured over his ledger in the main bedroom. She tried to keep herself well out of his way in the evenings until he indicated that he was finished.

She signed her name and put the quill back in the holder. Realizing that it must be getting late, she snatched her brother's letter and walked through the dressing room to the larger room where her husband sat at his desk in the corner looking disheveled and weary, his head propped up with his free hand.

He turned his face to acknowledge her with a faint smile and returned his attention to his work.

Margaret hoped to give him some respite. "Frederick wrote today. His father-in-law has taken him on to help head the family business. He has described the villa they live in. It sounds so lovely. He hopes we can come to Spain someday," she related cheerfully.

"And are we to comply with his every wish?" he snapped with a sting of bitterness, not lifting his head from where it rested in his hand. "He would be in England still if it were not for his foolish impudence," he muttered at the papers before him.

Margaret stood frozen with shock at his words, her mouth agape.

Mr. Thornton cautiously brought his eyes to hers to see the damage he had caused. The look of hurt and confusion on her face tore at his heart. He stiffened in unknown dread as he watched her lips quiver slightly as if she would say something before she turned abruptly and rushed out of the room. He winced to hear the thud of the door as she separated herself from him, the finality of the sound cutting his soul.

What had he done? He closed his eyes in revulsion. Had he become so abhorrent as to lash out her for her kindness? He dropped his hand to the desk and clenched his fist in anger and disgust - he had always thought of himself as uncouth and unworthy of her, and now he had proven it.

He stood up forcefully from his chair, the screeching wood sending a further chill of discord through the darkened room. Pacing the floor as he gritted his teeth, he whipped himself into a torrent of self-loathing. He had promised to cherish and care for her, and this is what he offered her - a rebuke for her innocent happiness at her brother's good fortune? Was he now set so low that he should resent another's success?

He shook with the frustration and longing that plagued him. He felt sharply the injustice of it all. How hard he had tried to do everything the right way - only to be brought to desolation! He had yearned to prove himself worthy of her, to give her the comfort and security that a woman of her stature deserved.

A sudden fear began to creep over him, halting him in his tracks as he thought of losing her trust and respect. More distressful than the mill's slow demise, was the notion that he may have irreparably damaged the sweet bond of affection that they had so long now enjoyed. The mill was nothing compared to her! He could bear any indignity or hardship, but he could no longer live without her enduring love.

He raked his fingers through his hair as he unconsciously began again to stride back and forth from the window to his desk. He knew he must apologize, and quickly, before any bitterness began to take root in her thoughts of him.

He turned with decision toward the connecting dressing room and, taking a moment to calm himself, gently opened the door to her bedchamber. She stood stiffly from the bed where she had been sitting, and moved several paces away, her back firmly turned to him.

A piercing pain stabbed his heart to see her justly distance herself from him. "Margaret," he entreated with desperate hope as he swiftly came to her side. "Forgive me, I spoke cruelly," he began in earnest.

"Perhaps only too honestly," she reproached him. "I did not know that you thought so ill of my brother," she stated in an icy tone, keeping her face resolutely to the wall.

Mr. Thornton bowed his head in regret for his outburst and ran his fingers through his hair in consternation, not knowing quite how to respond, only knowing that he must explain himself. "I will not lie to you. I believe your brother made a grave error," he admitted.

"For which he deserves to be perpetually punished by his exile!" Margaret finished hotly, tears stinging her eyes as she considered her husband's harsh judgement against her beloved brother.

He let out his breath and struggled to control his voice. "Margaret, listen to me," he pleaded patiently as he gently grasped her arms, forcing her to face him although she would not look into his eyes. "I believe it was unwise for him to defy authority in such a manner, but I cannot condemn his motive. Am I not familiar with such unselfish impetuosity and righteous fervor - a spirit which I am certain he must share with his sister?" he explained, searching her face for her understanding.

Margaret slowly brought her gaze to his, her manner more contrite although her eyes still shone with confusion at his anger.

"I was jealous," he confessed, recognizing the truth of his emotions as he spoke. "I know it is unconscionable and coarse, but I am an uncouth and unrefined man. I do not wish your brother ill. I am weary this evening, and it has been hard for me to bear my frustration. I cannot even offer you the security of maintaining this home, let alone give you all the things that you desire," he averred, his eyes blazing with anguish. "At present, I do not know when we should ever be able to visit Spain," he added softly, releasing her arms in defeat.

A wave of compassion swept over Margaret to see her husband's sorrow. How could she have been so insensitive to announce Fred's happy success in life, when John was struggling to retain all that he had so scrupulously worked to establish? "It is not important, John. I cannot travel now anyway," she replied, taking hold of his hands. "I did not mean to cause you any pain. I did not think..." she apologized, slowly realizing how deeply he must feel his burden as provider and protector of herself and his mother.

"You will forgive me?" he asked for reassurance, bringing her hands up to bestow a kiss on each.

She wound her arms around his neck and pulled him tightly toward her, hugging him. "You work so hard John. How can I begrudge you when you have only this once lost your temper?" she asked as she pressed her cheek against his shoulder, the warmth of his body and the scent of him filling her with an indescribable feeling of peace.

"Margaret," he murmured with joyous relief, holding her close.

He moved, at length, to look into her eyes. Unable to resist her, he kissed her tenderly.

She tightened her hold around his neck and parted her lips to receive more of him.

He made a low, guttural sound in response, and kissed her with the hunger he had long suppressed. The sensual feel of her tongue entangling with his own inflamed him, sending a hot surge of desire coursing through his entire body.

He pulled away in alarm, remembering her condition and his decision to be cautious, his slow panting revealing the strength of his ardor.

She looked up at him in agonized dismay and confusion. "Will you not love me, John?" she pleaded, keeping her arms tightly wound around his neck.

How he wished to love her! "Is not your condition delicate?" he asked gently, endeavoring to conceal his ardent wish for her to tell him otherwise.

She smiled knowingly. "I spoke with a midwife today. She told me there is no harm in loving until the baby proves to be cumbersome," she revealed, averting her eyes from his intense gaze as she spoke of such intimate matters.

"There is no harm to the child?" he asked her with rising hope in his voice.

She lifted her flushed face to his and shook her head faintly in agreement.

He could not contain the gratified smile that slowly spread over his face. Returning his mouth to hers, he continued the kiss that had ended so abruptly. This time, he allowed his passion to flow freely as the press of her shapely form against him increased his desire.

He whisked her to the nearby bed where they hastily divested themselves of their clothing. The taste of her skin and the feel of her curves under his hands and body engulfed him in sensual delight. When she at last cried out her pleasure, he felt his bliss in hers and cried out in answering triumph.

Collapsing onto her, he began to shower her with kisses, grateful beyond measure for the precious union that they shared.

Tears of tremendous happiness trickled down her cheeks as she clung to him. Despite the uncertainty of the mill, she felt her life was complete. She gazed at him in wonder and love before she closed her eyes and held him tightly against her.


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In the days that followed, Mr. Thornton diligently sought to save his mill from failure. He left no stone unturned in attempting to increase revenue, searching all past accounts to ensure payment had been made in full and seeking out old customers who might be persuaded to order again.

He bravely took up the more sobering task of summarizing the expenses that would need to be paid as current orders were fulfilled. He had decided that if no substantial orders were received within a few weeks' time, the mill would need to close its doors before winter.

Margaret worried for her husband's health as his hours remained long and he took little time for leisure except on Sundays. She took pains to deliver him lunch when she feared he would not notice the time, and made his evenings as pleasant as possible when he was within her realm of care.

On more than one occasion she had taken matters into her own hands when the hour grew very late and he was still at his desk. She would rise from her bed to stand behind him and rub the tired muscles of his neck, shoulders, and back. Then she would gently chastise him for staying up too late as she moved to sit on his lap and unbutton the front of his shirt, working her hands over the muscles of his chest. It had never failed to bring her husband quickly to bed and she would gently comb her fingers through his hair after he had fallen asleep, exhausted from having spent his remaining energy making love to her.

She wondered how he could endure like this, and prayed that soon they might know what path lay ahead for them. She did not care if he were no longer Master for her own sake; she loved him too much to lay any conditions on her esteem and affection. It pained her greatly to think how sorely he had worked these past weeks to save all that he had built. She would feel no shame if he were forced to look for other work. She knew he would rise to greatness in whatever he laid his hands to; it was his nature to do all things with astounding ability. She trusted that all would be well, regardless of what fate might devise.


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Early the following week, Margaret went to the draper's shop to purchase yards of fine cloth to make clothes for the baby and herself. After stopping at a few other shops, she soon had acquired several packages to carry home. Arranging them carefully, she determined that she could still manage them on the walk home to Marlborough Mills.

Lost in her thoughts as she made her way down the busy sidewalk, she was startled to hear a voice call her name from the street. She turned to see Albert Slickson hurriedly stepping out of a halted cab.

"Mrs. Thornton!" he called once more as he crossed the thoroughfare to her side. "May I offer you a ride in my cab? Here, let me help you," he offered eagerly as he reached to unburden her from her load of parcels.

Margaret had opened her mouth to decline, but as Albert removed the weighty materials from her grasp, she thought better of his offer, recognizing that she was fatigued and that there was yet a good distance to go before she reached home.

"Thank you. I believe I purchased a good deal more than I intended," she remarked in good humor.

"Then I am very glad I happened by," he replied with a dazzling smile as he led her to the waiting carriage, taking the remaining bundles from her hands.

"I am sorry it is not a bigger cab," he apologized politely as he took his seat beside her in the small compartment. In truth, he was very pleased to find himself in such close confinement with her. The feel of her skirts brushing against his leg gave him a rush of excitement at her nearness.

Margaret smiled politely, but felt a strange twinge of nervousness to be alone with him. She brushed aside the feeling in the next instant, reasoning that there could be no harm in taking a short cab ride with a friend. After all, she needed to be more careful with herself now that she was pregnant.

"Are you keeping busy with your school?" he asked as the small carriage moved forward, impatient to establish an easy rapport with her. However, he already knew that she had been keeping her schedule with the children, for he kept himself well informed of the goings on at the Mill.

"Yes, and I've taken the children to the museum and library this past week," she informed him happily.

"You have indeed been very busy," he answered with a bright smile. "I hope you have time to take your leisure," he remarked courteously as his eyes took every opportunity to drink in the sight of her.

"Oh, yes, I have much time to myself in the evenings," she assured him.

"I hope your husband is not still working late," he remarked with great interest, wondering how often such a woman was left unattended.

Margaret looked at her hands for a moment, flustered at his question. "He has been very busy as of late, but he comes home as often as he is able," she answered with a forced cheerfulness before turning to give him a polite smile.

Albert returned her smile, struck by the glimmer of sadness in her eyes. He had watched her profile with fascination, studying the movement of her lips as she had spoken demurely of her husband. Now, faced with the haunting beauty of her expressive blue-gray eyes, he was momentarily speechless.

"Perhaps we could assuage each other's loneliness," he implored, his voice low and unwavering. Breathlessly, he brushed his hand over her thigh to reach for her hand, his hopeful eyes studying hers with adoration.

Margaret withdrew her hand as if his had been laced with poison, gasping in surprised confusion.

"You are gravely mistaken if you think that I..." she blurted out, unable to continue as the full realization of what his words portended suddenly dawned on her. "Stop the carriage!" she fairly shouted, her heart beating wildly in horror at her predicament.

"Margaret....if we could only get to know each other," he stammered frantically to explain himself. "I believe fate has brought us together," he declared, his eyes flashing with fervor.

Growing increasingly alarmed, Margaret drew back against the compartment door, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Stop this carriage at once or I shall be forced to make a scene!" she demanded with all the strength her voice could muster.

A look of pain crossed his face before he turned to halt the cab as he was bidden.

Before the wheels had come to a full stop, Margaret opened the door and leaped out of the compartment, snatching the packages that had been at her feet.

Albert raced around to offer her assistance, handing her the remaining parcels. "Please, I mean you no harm. You have captured my heart," he pleaded as she gathered her packages. "I cannot forget you," he called out to her back as she dashed across the street.

Above the pounding of her heart, she listened intently as the wheels of the cab clattered past her and began to grow fainter in the distance. As she approached the familiar gates of her home, she began to tremble uncontrollably.

She entered the dining room with her eyes on the floor in front of her, intent on fleeing to the refuge of her room.

Mrs. Thornton looked up from her sewing. "Margaret?" she called out with some concern, noticing the girl's hurried pace and pale face.

Margaret deposited her packages on the dining room table, studiously avoiding her mother-in-law's inquisitive gaze. "Would you have Jane take care of these, please?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly despite her best efforts to sound at ease.

"Yes, of course. Are you all right?" Mrs. Thornton asked, perplexed at her strange behavior.

"I think I just need to lie down," Margaret answered elusively before turning to go upstairs.

Mrs. Thornton's eyes lingered toward the stairs after the younger woman disappeared, wondering uneasily what was troubling her son's wife.

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Margaret flung herself upon her bed as tears of terrified confusion and shame began to fall upon her pillow. How had this happened to her? She had begun to think of Albert as a friend. Had he had ulterior intentions all along? How had she been so blind? Now she had brought shame to herself and her husband.

John! She cried harder to consider what he would think of her, and how ignorant she had been to have caused this turmoil. She had wanted only to bring him the increased respect and admiration of the city; she had never supposed she would bring him degradation and shame! She could not bear to think that she should cause him any more pain.

Her turbulent mind poured over the past and pondered with great trepidation the outcome of the day's occurrence, but she steadfastly avoided recalling the horrible moment when she had been trapped in the small cab with a man who professed to admire her.


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Hannah Thornton surreptitiously observed her daughter-in-law as the family ate their dinner. Pale and sullen, Margaret answered when spoken to but initiated no conversation herself and seldom looked up from her plate. The clinking of silverware amplified the stilted silence of their gathering.

Catching her son's eye, Mrs. Thornton could only offer him a collaborative shrug of ignorance as to what bothered his wife.

After dinner, Margaret was guiltily relieved to hear her husband announce that he needed to work in his office again this evening. She felt she could not yet face him, and hoped a reprieve would give her time to sort out her tumultuous thoughts.

Begging leave from spending time with her mother-in-law in the drawing room, she escaped to the solitude of her room, claiming a headache.

Once alone, the full torrent of her troubled thoughts poured out upon her and she sat at her desk with her head upon her arms in a fit of despair. Convinced that she was somehow in error for allowing such a thing to happen, she began to lose all hope of gaining the courage to tell her husband what had taken place. Her heart grieved at the thought that she had failed him - that she had not been able to bear the high standard of character to which he had entrusted her. She felt sick to her stomach at the notion of bringing him more trouble and sorrow.

Choking back tears that obstinately coursed down her cheeks despite her valiant efforts, she prepared for bed as if in a trance, not knowing what to do next or where she should seek solace from the torment of the constant stream of troubling images and imagined scenarios that invaded her mind.

At last, feeling she had no recourse, she climbed into her bed to find relief in unconscious sleep.


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


Mr. Thornton quietly opened the door to his bedchamber. The light from the lantern he held revealed an empty room. At nearly midnight, he had fully expected his wife to be sound asleep in their bed. Momentarily confused, he sought her, walking through the narrow chamber that led to her room. A lamp still burned on her desk, and he snuffed it out as he noted the sleeping form under the covers of her bed. He moved quietly to the bedside to gaze at the hapless manner in which her arms and hair lay tangled over the pillow. Her face bore no sign of distress in sleep and he studied for a moment with deep love the peaceful face of the woman he had married.

He hoped that she would wake refreshed from whatever had troubled her today. He brushed his fingers lightly along the hair by her temple and leaned over to place a gentle kiss on her cheek. She stirred slightly at his touch and then remained still.

Taking one last lingering look, he left as quietly as he had come in and returned to his room. Trying to ignore the gnawing sadness that began to descend upon him, he prepared for bed. He reasoned that she was tired and might very well need more rest these days, but he could not shake the feeling of loneliness that attended the solemn fact that echoed in his head: this would be the first night he slept alone since the day he had married.

He climbed into bed and turned away from the yawning emptiness of the space beside him, eventually falling into a fitful sleep.


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


The following morning, Margaret arrived late to the breakfast table. She apologized briefly with a meager smile and sat to join her husband and mother-in-law in the early morning light.

Mr. Thornton sought her gaze, but she only briefly met his eyes with a timid look. He felt his heart sink at her withdrawal. He had hoped to see a sweet renewal of her usual spirit today, and began to speculate with trepidation what could be the cause of her cheerlessness.

He gave his wife and mother cursory good-bye kisses and headed for the door, casting one last worried glance at his wife.

Lost in thought as he crossed the yard to his office, his wife's somber mood threw him into a gloom that was evident in his bearing and expression. He had barely sat down at his desk when Higgins appeared at the door. The Master lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes in curiosity to see his trusted colleague so early.

"I thought it'd be best to catch you before the day gets started," Higgins explained as a way of greeting. "You've been working past your hours, wearing yourself to the bone. Trying to make the best of a bad situation, I reckon. Is there anything else we can do to help?" he asked in earnest, his face a mixture of concern and determination.

Mr. Thornton dropped his gaze for a moment as his eyes swept the open ledgers on his desk. He felt a profound gratitude for the fidelity and hard work his hands had done these past months, occasionally working past their hours without pay to finish an order on time. The Master felt the sting of the mill's failure most acutely for the men and women who depended on him for their very livelihood.

Looking up again, he met Higgins' stare with a somber but steady gaze. "You've done all you can. I'm proud of the men. And I have you to thank for some of that," he commended his friend, hesitating before he continued. "There will not be work for you come November," he announced bluntly, with an inward sigh.

Higgins showed no sign of surprise at this news. "It'll be a sore time to be out of work, come winter," he remarked solemnly.

"I know it," the Master replied, heaving a slow breath at the thought of shuttering the mill just as the bleakest season began it merciless reign.

Higgins surveyed his friend's brooding posture and the deep set lines of toil and care on his face. The former union leader knew that his employer had done his best to keep the mill running since the strike. Both Master and employee felt responsible in some degree for the welfare of all of the men at the Mill. Higgins could not but admire the Master for his perseverance and kind heart. As he had quickly learned, Thornton could not be judged by the stern demeanor that had doggedly been part of his reputation for so long.

"My Mary tells me you're to be a family man," Higgins declared, endeavoring to gain a smile from the Master's face before he departed. "Congratulations, Thornton. There'll not be a luckier child in the country to have such parents as you and Miss Margaret," he pronounced with fond sincerity.

Mr. Thornton's face glowed with an effusive light at the mention of his forthcoming child. "Thank you. It remains a bright spot for me amidst this difficult time," he revealed candidly, gifting his friend with the smile he had sought.

Higgins nodded his understanding. "I'll leave you to your work," he remarked, before turning to go.

Mr. Thornton considered the weighty announcement he had uttered. He had not yet told Margaret his final decision, having only recently come to the inevitable calculation that led him to delineate October as the last month the mill would operate. All creditors and employees would be paid. He would retain sufficient funds to live on for a few short months, but he would need to find employment before long, and give up the house.

He could not find the impetus to tell Margaret, biding his time with long nights at the office and all-too-brief encounters with her. He half hoped that some propitious event would propel him to reveal his temporary secret, so that he would not have the distinct displeasure of creating a moment in which to deliver such unhappy news, news that he dreaded would cause sadness to linger in her soulful eyes.


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


Margaret kept herself as busy possible to evade contemplating of all things untoward. It was a relief to immerse herself in her work with the children for a few hours, although she occasionally looked over her shoulder in the haunting fear that Albert might stroll through the doorway.

When evening came, she kept to her room for awhile as her husband worked at his desk. Eventually, she brought a book to read in their bed, comfortable in her husband's presence as long as his attention was elsewhere.

She closed her book and settled down on her pillow with a tingling anxiety when Mr. Thornton turned out the lamp and began to prepare for bed. When he stole under the covers and leaned over to kiss her, she stiffly received his affectionate gesture but professed to be tired when his attentions pressed her for more. Too ashamed and confused to openly accept his love, she shied away from his passion. She bit her lip to keep from crying, sensing his hurt as he turned away from her.

Mr. Thornton withdrew from her with a heavy heart. Inevitably saddened, he tried to fathom what had made her so unresponsive. She had never declined him before. Beginning to imagine her disappointment in the present state of affairs, he thought she must be weary of his long hours and the unfruitful portent of all his efforts. He despaired at the notion of having to crush her lively spirit with his dismal lot in life. How he had feared to bring her back to Milton - to have such a vibrant blossom wither in his grasp!

He stared in the dark for hours before finally closing his eyes to rest.


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


Mrs. Thornton surveyed the scene before her at breakfast. She was dismayed to see her son looking haggard as he absently poked at his food. Her suspicious gaze moved to her daughter-in-law, who sat bent over her tea in silence. Margaret's behavior had been peculiar ever since she had returned from shopping two days ago. Something had happened.

Both were decidedly unhappy. She glanced at them again as a burgeoning sense of resolve began to gather in her mind.


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


Margaret walked swiftly through the drawing room on her return from her teaching. She turned toward the stairs to escape when Mrs. Thornton halted her.

"Margaret, may I have a word with you?" the elder woman called out imperatively but kindly as she put down her sewing.

The young mistress stilled, her heart drumming faster in apprehension. She walked calmly to a seat near her mother-in-law and reluctantly lifted her sorrowful eyes to hear what she would say.

"You've been unhappy. And, consequently, my son is unhappy," Mrs. Thornton announced as fact, looking steadily at her daughter-in-law. "Now, it is not my business to pry into your marriage, but I promised your mother that I would offer you womanly counsel if you needed it. As your mother-in-law, I find myself in a unique position to treat you as my own daughter," she continued, pausing to discern the girl's receptivity. "Will you not tell me what is troubling you?" she asked gently.

Margaret struggled with what she should say, uncharacteristically twisting her fingers in her lap. She desperately wanted to share her anxieties, but at the same time was afraid of the judgment that might be cast on her. She looked at her mother-in-law in momentary helplessness.

"Did something happen the day you went to the draper's shop?" Mrs. Thornton prodded, distinctly recalling the girl's ashen face and distressed behavior that afternoon.

"Yes," Margaret quickly admitted, feeling relief to have confessed that much.

Mrs. Thornton sat back in her chair in partial triumph, and waited patiently for Margaret to reveal more.

"I...was offered a cab ride home...by Albert Slickson," Margaret stammered.

Mrs. Thornton lifted her chin to steel herself for what this would imply, vaguely recalling the young gentleman from introductions at the ball. Her mind raced to imagine what had so upset her.

"He made...advances..." she began uncomfortably, staring blankly at a pattern on the carpet.

"Did he harm you?" Mrs. Thornton asked with alarm, visibly disturbed at her latest revelation.

"No...no...but he was most indiscreet in his intentions," Margaret blurted, the pent-up emotions she had tried to hide now rushing to the fore.

"You did nothing to encourage him?" Mrs. Thornton calmly inquired, fairly certain of the girl's innocence but desiring to hear her admission nonetheless.

Margaret looked at her mother-in-law with horror. "No! I did not know he...I could never...I only love John! I could never bring him any dishonor!" she exclaimed in great agitation, stinging tears coming to her eyes.

Mrs. Thornton moved to the sofa to sit next to the girl and patted her arm to comfort her.

Margaret pulled out a handkerchief from her skirts and dabbed at her eyes. "I should not have ridden with him. If only I had heeded my better judgment, I would not have caused such shame," she berated herself.

"I am certain you were not at fault for what happened," Mrs. Thornton consoled the distraught girl. "I have lived long enough to know that there are men who will act indiscriminately in pursuing what they desire, heedless of a woman's reputation or honor. Unfortunately, I have also perceived that it is a characteristic of our gender to take the blame upon ourselves for such misconduct," she wisely pointed out.

"You must tell John," the elder woman advised after a lengthy pause.

Margaret jerked her head up to face her mother-in-law, a look of pain in her eyes. "I cannot!" she protested. "I cannot bear to aggrieve him with any further trouble. He has already so much to endure," she attempted to reason.

"Surely you cannot keep such a secret from him. Has it not already stolen your happiness, and his?" she appraised.

Margaret considered her words. Indeed, she had been most miserable and it seemed she had made him so as well. She sighed aloud at her predicament. "How can I tell him?" she asked helplessly, looking to her mother-in-law for guidance.

"He is a wise judge. He is a magistrate, is he not? Tell him the truth, Margaret. He trusts you above all others," Mrs. Thornton advised.

'"Will he not be angry?" Margaret asked the woman who knew best the history of his temperament. She was concerned that her husband might act rashly upon discovering what Albert had done.

Mrs. Thornton could not hide the slight upturn of her lips. "Indeed, but it will not be directed toward you. I believe you would do best to leave any consequences to John's discretion," she offered simply.

Margaret nodded, falling into a contemplative mood.

The girl's question returned to Mrs. Thornton, and she considered the severity of her son's wrath. His strong sense of morality combined with his fierce devotion to his wife would indeed ignite his fury against a man who had deigned to tamper with Margaret.

She shuddered slightly to think of it. She would not wish to be Mr. Albert Slickson.


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


That evening, Margaret allowed Dixon to brush her hair, gaining a sense of comfort from this childhood ritual with her mother's dearest servant. She did not always call upon Dixon, but had felt a need for her stolid presence tonight before facing her husband with the secret she held.

As soon as Dixon had bidden her mistress good night and shut the door, Margaret stood in resolve and walked the length of her room, rehearsing the words that she would use to explain everything to him.

It was not long before she heard his footsteps in the next room. He had come home from the mill at last.

Remembering the simple counsel her mother-in-law had given her, she felt a surge of courage and headed toward the connecting chamber between the two rooms. She felt impelled now to unburden herself of all that she had withheld from him, although she trembled to imagine his righteous anger.

He was hanging up his waistcoat, his shirt already loosely unbuttoned as he was wont to do when he worked late. She noted with a pang of guilt the cautious hope in his acknowledging glance at her, and hoped her confession would remove the uncomfortable silence that had unwittingly evolved between them.

"I must speak with you," she announced quietly and without ceremony as her husband turned from the wardrobe.

He stilled for a moment, tensing at the upward tilt of her chin and solemn tone. He moved nearer to where she stood and sat on the bed with the sinking fear that she would at last voice her unhappiness.

She turned away from the saddened look in his pure blue eyes and took a few paces to begin her practiced speech. "On Monday, I went shopping and began to walk home with quite a few packages. I thought I could manage them well enough, but I was offered a cab on my way. I accepted the ride, thinking I should not weary myself in my present condition," she started, glancing at him to see his brow crinkle in confusion at her unfolding story.

"It was Mr. Slickson..." she began to elaborate, her pulse hammering.

"Slickson?" he repeated, standing bolt upright in agitation. "Albert Slickson?" he thundered, his expression dark with the maelstrom of suspicion the name invoked.

"He offered you a ride in his cab?" he asked, his voice tightening in rising alarm as his mind began to conjure disturbing images of his wife in close confinement with that man.

"Yes," she breathed, her throat constricting as she witnessed the unleashing of her husband's fury.

"Did he touch you?" he asked frantically, his chest heaving with the terrifying notion that Albert had preyed upon her somehow. He instantly berated himself for his failure to protect her from such unwanted attention.

"No!...well, yes....he reached for my hand," she stammered, flustered by the intensity of his inquiries. Her eyes cast about nervously, unable to meet his piercing gaze.

His blood boiled with indignation at the thought that such a gesture had been made toward his wife. How dare that man attempt to claim his wife's affection!

A burning need to know exactly what had transpired gripped him, driving him half wild with impatience. He grasped her firmly by the arms and made her look at him. "What did he say to you?" he demanded, his eyes boring into hers.

She startled at his panicked tone, shivering at his grasp as she tried to remember the words she had endeavored to erase from her mind. "He spoke of being lonely..." she haltingly recalled, her face revealing the distress it caused her to recount the event. She saw his brow furrow at her vague response, and she redoubled her efforts, scouring her memory for the exact phrase he had uttered. "He suggested that we assuage each other's loneliness," she answered at last, feeling the shame and embarrassment his proposal had engendered all over again. She dropped her gaze from her husband's, afraid of what he might think. "I fled from him as soon as I could," she added.

He loosened his hold of her, letting his arms drop in stunned silence as the full import of the words slowly etched into his consciousness. His stomach sickened and his outrage grew at the audacity of the young man - he would have Margaret entangle herself in a romantic liaison with him!

Recognizing at once the depths of the conniving scoundrel's attraction to his wife, Mr. Thornton suddenly paled. "If you had been harmed...." he uttered in horror at the thought of what Mr. Slickson might have done had Margaret not escaped from his presence.

"No, he would not..." Margaret began.

"You would defend him?" he exploded in consternation at her deference for someone so vile.

"No...I..." she could not answer. Frightened that he should raise his voice to her, she began to tremble in her confusion and shame, wondering still what he must think of her. Her composure crumbled as the myriad emotions she had withheld from him now came tumbling out. "I'm sorry, John. I could not bear to bring you any dishonor. I love you...only you!" she cried as she rushed into his arms, sobbing in her distress over everything that had happened.

His manner softened at once, and he held her as he would some precious object, rare and beautiful, unlike any other thing in the world. How monstrous he had been! He had been harsh and overbearing when she most needed his assurance and understanding.

"You could not dishonor me," he said softly, pressing his face into her hair and breathing the very fragrance of her. "You have done nothing wrong," he assured her, feeling a shiver trace his spine as she held him closer at his words. "All will be well," he blindly promised, not yet knowing what he would do. He only knew that at present, he should gently tend to the woman in his arms.

Mr. Thornton simmered within, though, at the thought of the man who had caused his wife such turmoil. He would deal with Mr. Slickson soon enough.






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