Shadow in the North

Chapter Twenty-Seven - In Wont of Occupation

Now it was some days since Boucher had thought to drown himself, and his widow was sickly and useless, relying on her neighbours for support, whilst scorning the whole world for the injustice of her predicament. Her children were at fault for being so very cumbersome in number and such a disruption to her in her torpor. She left them without direction and had even seen fit - in her careless grief - to leave her husband laid out before the children; that stained, distorted face quite scaring the infants, until one of the younger ones thought it not his father at all, for he did not "look quite right". Margaret - who had been making frequent visits to Mrs Boucher, in the company of her father - was alarmed that a mother could be so thoughtless, and found Mrs Boucher to be very crude in her grief, and utterly useless.

No help could be offered that would be listened to or appreciated. Mrs Boucher was hard done by. The Masters were at fault for causing the strike with their miserly and heavy-handed ways. Mr Thornton more so, for bringing in the Irish which sparked the riot Boucher was caught up in; for not seeing him charged as conspirator. The Union - and thus Higgins - for making an outcast of her erstwhile husband. God, for not having interceded to dry up that brook so that her husband might have failed in his attempt to drown himself, and then secretly (with a blame she did not voice) she found fault with her husband, for allowing himself to be brought so low; for being so weak as to leave her with the inconvenience of six children.

And it is so often a sad fact that when one is caught up in grievance upon grievance - when one feels oneself so ill-used and unfortunate beyond all good reason - one cannot see the good before one's face. The Unfortunate has not the time to notice the assistance that is offered, nor the compassion that is shown, for The Unfortunate can only dwell upon the injustice of one's lot. And so afflicted was Mrs Boucher; nothing could do her good, nor see her right, and Mr Hale and Margaret - who persisted in visiting her - felt themselves entirely useless.

Isabel, in turn, felt her own agony, for Mr Thornton had sent round a note informing her that the Mill Infirmary would open on the morrow, and she was to be there for eleven o'clock, but she had not seen, nor spoken to him, since her confession in Mr Hale's study. She feared not his censure, for she knew he held secretly, a forgiving heart, but she was perturbed - deeply so - that he should think to call her "friend".

The offer of work at his mill had been to her, a precious gift, symbolising his good faith in her skills and knowledge; showing him to believe her an equal, and not merely an idle creature fit only to be looked upon as an ornament. She had longed for an occupation. Mrs Hale's decline had utilised her skills but little, and she had found no satisfaction in tending to a woman she knew would die, yet longed desperately to save. The mill infirmary was to give her that missing piece of herself that she had yet to find in Milton, and she was grateful for it.

She knew she would have been grateful, had the offer of work come from any other Master in Milton; it mattered not whose yard she worked in, and yet the delicious realisation that it was he - Mr Thornton - who felt her capable, respected her with such a commission, doubled the pleasure in the offering. She had thought it a symbol of his regard for her; showing her how universally admired she was, by one mere man. It showed in him, too, a certain willingness to allow her independence, though she knew that as an unmarried lady, her independence in such respect would always be far greater; that which Mr Thornton allowed his friend would be very different to that which he allowed his wife.

And thus into her mind, entered the paradox; friend or wife? She wanted his regard; to be thought of and looked upon kindly. She wished to be near him; to hear his voice and look upon his face. She wanted, too, her own independence; to exert her own free will, and have no restraint upon her wishes. She knew she would give up the latter in moving from friendship to wife, and she was not certain she could make such a sacrifice (even if Margaret were not destined to be his). And yet, until that evening in Mr Hale's study - when Mr Thornton had declared an open wish to be her friend - Isabel had thought that if he did not love Margaret, he would love her; that the question of acceptance or rejection lie in her resolve. But now she was adrift, for he no longer spoke of love, but something tepid and more freely-given. She saw that she had gained from him the independence of a man's occupation, but lost her chance of love. But it was never ours, she warned herself scathingly, for she saw that she had come to think of him as hers.