Shadow in the North

Chapter Thirty-One - The Mother, the Father and the Doctor

'Miss Darrow is not a lady, indeed?' said Mr Bell; his voice causing Mrs Thornton to look up sharply. Her brow furrowed on realising that they had not been alone; that every word she had spoken had been overheard, but she stood proud and unrelenting.

'Mr Bell,' said she, in a grim voice, her chin lifting in haughty defiance, 'what can I do for you; my son is in the mill house, if you should like to speak with him?'

'No, madam; I shall make an appointment with Mr Thornton, should I have anything of which we need discuss.'

'You are inspecting the infirmary?' asked Mrs Thornton, with an accusing tone of voice.

'I have made a donation to cover the cost of surgical equipment.' And here, he smiled indulgently at Isabel. The warmth of his look did not go unnoticed by the attentive matriarch, and she instantly bristled, feeling her son's landlord to be in league with his tormentor.

'My son will not want charity, Mr Bell. It is not a charitable endeavour that he is running, but a business.'

'Still, it will add value to the property to have the building fully converted. I have looked it over and see that it is currently a meagre enterprise. An investment could have this place set up just as well as that belonging to any private doctor – if not better.'

'Add value?' blanched Mrs Thornton. 'You are not thinking of selling the property, Mr Bell?' She dreaded the thought of a new owner; one who might interfere or look to put up rents.

'Oh, no! Not selling it, but the mill will have a new owner. You see, Mrs Thornton,' explained Mr Bell, stepping closer to that stern face – now pale and anxious – and looking upon her with an ambivalent smile, 'you might – erroneously, I must say – not think Miss Darrow, here, a lady, but she is now a landlady; I have given her the mill. You might wish to think on that, before you direct your ire at her again.' At soft smile played about his lips, and his eyes shone with mirth, as he watched Mrs Thornton's face pale to porcelain, and she instantly recoiled in alarm. Those wary eyes darted between father and daughter; the brow contracted into deep trenches, and the lips parted in consternation.

'Miss Darrow – owner of this mill!'

'Indeed. I think it rather splendid.' And turning to Isabel, Mr Bell clapped his hands jovially and smiled at her. 'I think we ought to make haste back to Crampton. We shall need to celebrate your new acquisition, my darling.' And although Isabel thought it a little cruel to leave Mrs Thornton reeling, she was too touched – too warmed – by the paternal protection and regard of Mr Bell (something she had never known), to seek to undo the tempest he had stirred, and so allowed herself to be drawn from the small building, leaving Mrs Thornton – once again – to see the infirmary locked up.

Mr Thornton had taken himself directly to his private study, knowing it to be the only place he would not be disturbed at such a time of day. Still, he saw fit to lock the door behind him, so that he would have the privacy he needed to cry his manly tears. He was fierce in his heartache, and paced the room frantically, as his hands burrowed through his thick crop of dark hair, and tugged anxiously until his scalp burned in complaint. He set his teeth and scowled until he could feel all of the muscles in his face working. He clenched his fists, turning his knuckles white, and brought that fist to his mouth, where he sunk his teeth into the flesh of his forefinger, and let his eyes bleed out his agony, through tears. His cheeks were hot and his vision blurred, as fresh tears rose up to replace those which had fallen from his lashes, but he could not prevent them, and would not prevent them, for he wanted to purge Isabel from his soul.

'Mr Bell!' hissed Mr Thornton, aloud. He was sure he must have been mistaken. 'Mr Bell!' The very name now a curse upon his lips. He shook his head, his strides about the room unrelenting. He is old enough to be her father! he said to himself, and he felt a swelling of revulsion wash over him. The mere thought of that man – old friend, as he had once thought Mr Bell to be – that man past his middle years, to be the one to win her; to be with her so intimately! And he shuddered and turned his face away, as though the very picture of her love for this other man, had been placed before him. Let her love him; let her bind herself to the man! said Mr Thornton to himself, with all the bravado of a proud man, thoroughly felled. It matters not to me! I don't need love; I've never had it and it did me no harm. She is not what she appeared; now let this be a lesson. No one shall touch my heart again; no one shall get near it. Indeed, she is quite forgot!