In Consequence

In Consequence - Prologue

Margaret was taken aback when she was suddenly thrust into the center of attention. Fanny, bored with the conversation of cotton markets and prices of goods, remarked that Margaret had been seen delivering baskets of food to the Princeton district. Conversation stilled, and all eyes turned to Margaret.

Aware that she was being drawn in to take sides on the strike, she attempted to circumvent the issue. “I have a friend in Princeton, Bessy Higgins,” she admitted quietly.

“Higgins? Isn’t he one of your union leaders, Hamper?” Mr. Henderson asked in shocked disdain.

“Yes,” Mr. Hamper answered, “he’s a terrific firebrand - a real dangerous man,” he muttered in bitter annoyance.

“I’m surprised you keep such company, Miss Hale,” Mrs. Thornton chastised haughtily, hoping her son would take note of the girls poor judgment.

“Bessy is my friend and Nicholas…..” Margaret haltingly began to explain when she was swiftly interrupted.

“Nicholas?” Slickson repeated in astonishment. “She’s on first name terms with him,” he announced with incredulous derision.

Margaret valiantly continued. “Mr. Higgins has been made a little wild by circumstances, but he speaks from the heart, I’m sure,” she argued in defense of her friend’s father, whose aims and temperament were well known to her.

She felt the cold disapproval of the well-dressed company surrounding her.

“Well, if he’s so determined, I’m surprised he’ll accept charity,” Hamper retorted.

“He doesn’t - for himself. The basket was for a man whose six children are starving,” Margaret explained. It was the Boucher family, neighbors to the Higgins, who were suffering terribly from the continued strike.

“Ah, well then, he knows what to do -- go back to work,” Hamper replied sarcastically as the other men harrumphed in agreement.

“I believe this poor, starving fellow works at Marlborough Mills, doesn’t he, Margaret?” Mr. Bell casually posed.

Margaret’s heart sank at his underlying game. She felt that her father’s friend had intentionally laid bare the opposing motives of Mr. Thornton and herself for his own amusement.

All eyes turned toward the host of the evening, whose jaw was set in unhappy determination. “You do the man, whoever he is, more harm than good with your basket,” Mr. Thornton coldly advised her, his eyes dark and unsmiling. “Logic would say, the longer you support the strikers, the more you prolong the strike. That is not kindness,” he admonished. “They will be defeated, but it will take longer. Their pain will be prolonged,” he added with increasing fervor of conviction. The men applauded and murmured their approval.

Margaret’s eyes flashed with rebellious indignation to be scolded for her benevolence. “But surely, to give a dying baby food is not just a question of logic,” she retorted, bravely meeting his eyes as she questioned his cold reasoning.

Mr. Thornton glanced away uncomfortably from her direct gaze and stinging reply. In the silence that followed, Mr. Hale began to falteringly praise Mrs. Thornton for her beautiful table settings in an endeavor to diffuse the heated debate between his outspoken daughter and the masters of Milton.

Mr. Thornton was determined to have the last word, however. When Mr. Hale ceased speaking, he made his plea. “Not all masters are the same, Mr. Bell. You do us an injustice to think we’re always up to some underhanded scheme,” he charged, shifting the direction of his gaze from Mr. Bell to Margaret as he calmly implicated them both.