Shadow in the North

Chapter Thirty-Four - Oh! To Start from the Beginning

'You do not think me too old?' laughed the doctor, nervously.

'Oh, no! But how old are you?'

'Thirty one, but I am grey beyond my years.'

'Oh!' smiled Isabel, her mood lifting. 'Certainly not too old then, for I do believe Mr Thornton is thirty!'

'He is our standard, is he, to which all suitors much be compared?' asked he, with a teasing smile.

'To me, most definitely. And all shall fall short, I am afraid; even you.'

Now this admission was no surprise to Dr Lyndhurst – who had early on in his acquaintance with both troubled lovers, sensed a passion which would be difficult to quell or rival – but it had been spoken with such regret, that he determined Isabel to have lost all hope of happiness with that man. He recalled too, the cold way in which Mr Thornton had observed her when he had conducted the tour of the infirmary, and despite Mr Thornton's determined protection of her, when the doctor had sought to look at her injured had – when he had asked to speak with her in private – still, Dr Lyndhurst had sensed some animosity between the two, and so it was that when next he was in Milton, he took himself off to Marlborough Mills to speak with Mr Thornton.

The hour was late, and the mill gate was closed – the machines having come to rest for the day – and so Dr Lyndhurst was forced to wait at the mill door for many minutes, until Williams – who lived on the mill grounds – came to open the gate.

'The Master's up at th' house,' said Williams, with a heavy jerk of his head. Dr Lyndhurst tipped his hat at the fellow, and strode off purposefully across the yard. The door to the house was immediately opened to him, and he looked up at the window, and saw the black-clad figure of Mrs Thornton looking down at him, as though she had watched his approach and sent the servant to the door, so that he would not have to tarnish the highly-polished door-knocker with his gloved hand.

Dr Lyndhurst was led up the stairs and into the drawing room, where he found that proud, austere woman stood rigid before him.

'Please excuse the interruption, Mrs Thornton, but I was hoping to speak with Mr Thornton.'

'And you are?' demanded she, her expression foreboding, as her eyes swept over his sharp dress. She was aggrieved to find she could not fault it; it was elegant and smart, yet not of the strictest fashion, and without the distasteful feminine flourish that young men of society seemed to favour.

'Dr Lyndhurst, ma'am.'

'Ah! So you are the southern doctor!' And he caught the coolness of her eyes as she realised who she was speaking to. Her top lip lifted in the merest of twitches, and he sensed that she had a pre-conceived opinion of him, which was undoubtedly not to his favour.

'I am indeed, Mrs Thornton.'

'And you had left Milton, had you not?'

'I returned upon the death of Mr Bell – to break the news to the Hales and Miss Darrow, personally.' At the mention of that woman's name, Mrs Thornton's chin jutted in defiance.

'How kind of you, doctor. It seems you are very attentive to the family,' said Mrs Thornton; a note of accusation to her voice. He blinked slowly, and inclined his head to one side, as he attempted to understand her hostility towards him, and slowly, a smile tilted at his lips, as he reached his understanding.

'Yes; I care greatly for the Hales,' replied he, cautious in his explanation. Now came Mr Thornton, who had ventured from his study at the sound of a male voice. 'Ah! Mr Thornton; I beg your pardon for the interruption, but I had hoped to speak with you.'