Shadow in the North

Chapter Forty-Two - Malady or Mentality

Husband and wife came down to breakfast together the following morning, and Mrs Thornton was gratified to see that neither lover looked discontented, and both were attentive to the other, with Mr Thornton carefully seeing his wife seated, and collecting for her, a plate from the sideboard.

'Oh!' frowned Isabel, as the laden plate was set before her. 'That is quite a quantity of food.'

'You did not eat last evening, love.'

'Well, nor did you!' complained Isabel, indignantly, for Mr Thornton had taken for himself only toast and eggs, and had before him, no mountain of food. Mrs Thornton was immediately suspicious, for she had seen her son take up a plate of sandwiches, but noting that husband and wife showed no animosity for one another, she reasoned - and she wished that she had not! - that the couple must have been too preoccupied to eat. She frowned about her tea cup, and fixed Isabel with an assessing glance. Her son's behaviour to his wife was - she reluctantly admitted - verging on officious, and she feared her new daughter may have taken ill, and her son now sought to coddle a sickly wife.

'You did not catch a chill, I hope? Sitting about in those wet clothes?' asked Mrs Thornton, shortly.

'No, Mother. I shan't claim to have your constitution, but I'm no weakling.' Mrs Thornton's lips pursed in contemplation, and in doing so, she was able to stifle a small, prideful smile of satisfaction. No, Mrs Thornton - like her son - was iron made! And it was only right that his wife should be hardy, too. All the better for bearing babes, said Mrs Thornton to herself, and then in thinking such, she glanced at her son's sheepish flush, and she knew what he was about. Her words of the evening before, had struck him, and he was now the attentive husband, thinking of his wife's health, in case she should fall into a delicate condition. She saw instantly the hopefulness about his look, and a maternal softening swelled within her breast. Ay! thought she, he'll make a fine father, and as good a son as he's been, he'll no doubt bless me with grandchildren to be proud of.

'Are you quite well, John?' asked Isabel, cautiously, as Mr Thornton stared at her absent-mindedly; a softness about his lips, and a warm glow to his eyes. Indeed, he had been thinking of children - the thoughts sewn by his mother's words of warning, and it was to him, such a blissful picture of happiness - his Isabel large with child, or a babe within her arms - that he was loath to shake it off, and in that happy reverie, he made himself a fool. 'John!' called Isabel, once again, but he merely shook his head to chase away that indulgent notion.

Isabel sighed, and turned her gaze towards Mrs Thornton. There! that same softening of the mouth - and the lips usually so grim!

'Mother?' asked she, and the matriarch immediately pulled back from her daydream and looked to Isabel in question.

'Yes, Isabel?'

'When would be convenient for me to sit with you and learn of the household management?'

'Let us sit to it after breakfast. It shan't interrupt with your infirmary, or your calls at Crampton, if we set about it early each morning,' replied Mrs Thornton. Isabel was touched by the stern woman's consideration, and smiled gratefully in return.

'And shall you call on Margaret to-day, Isabel?' asked Mr Thornton; now finally drawn from his thoughts.

'Yes,' smiled she. 'And I thought to collect my dress for the wedding, on the way back from Crampton.'

'Oh! but they shall deliver it to the house!' grumbled Mrs Thornton, displeased with the notion of Mrs John Thornton carrying packages about the town, and on foot!

'I think you ought to call past the drapers, love,' put in Mr Thornton. 'We ought to hold a dinner - now that we are married - and you shall need a new dress for that. You have only the one, and even with the new one you ordered for Margaret's wedding, you shan't have enough for dinners and concerts.'