A Misguided Mistake

Chapter Eight

"I think it's wonderful." Margaret stated simply. "It is as if the whole world is here for us to see."

"I was impressed by the machinery. I have to say, I never realised the power of it, or the money to be made in cotton. Maybe we should go into cotton."

Margaret opened her mouth, but closed it quickly as she realised a laugh she could not suppress would escape if she tried to speak. Oh, it was not kind to laugh but really! That Maxwell, sweet, simple Maxwell thought he had the drive and the business acumen to succeed in an industry such as that. She did not need to pass comment, for Henry spoke words not dissimilar to her own thoughts.

"I think it would take rather more energy than you have, Maxwell. We don't need heavy machinery to make money in London. Nor do we need to suffer the Northern climate. Do we, Miss Hale?" Margaret turned, finding his eyes fixed on hers. She looked at him questioningly. "I ask the expert amongst us."

"It is true." Margaret agreed. "The air is not so clean in Milton."

Then why do I miss it so very much?

She walked on, not wishing to dwell on the subject for much longer. There was so much to see, why waste time consumed in conversations that had taken place half a dozen times before? What would Mr Thornton have to say, she wondered, about Maxwell's idea? Oh, she smiled, for she was certain that he would have no patience for such follies. No, cotton seemed to be an industry that consumed those who were involved; Mr Thornton had certainly dedicated himself to it.

"You're all here to see this fine machinery. Technologically, we're the envy of the world."

As though she had thought him into existence, there he was.

She blinked, for it did not seem possible that he was standing here before her. What was he doing here? Her father had made no mention of Mr Thornton being in London for the exhibition, and he had spoken of the man often. Too often, Margaret had thought at times when each mention of the man's name was like a stab to her heart.

She stopped, listening as he spoke to a small group of men who were gathered around him. She wished to hear him speak in a professional capacity, to know a different side to him. She had seen him as Master, but she had never heard him speak to his equals on the subject.

"If only there was a mechanism to enable us all to live together. To take advantage of the great benefits that come from industry. But that will be for future generations. We can bring back marmosets from Mozambique, but we cannot stop man behaving as he always has."

"Do you think we could bring about an end to strikes?"

"Not in my lifetime. But with time and patience, we might try and breed them of their bitterness." He looked up, catching her eye. "Miss Hale here knows of the depths we Milton men have fallen to."

She swallowed heavily as the men turned to look at her. She felt a strange kind of fury, for his conception of her missed the mark by some way.

"I certainly do not think that." She said, burning with humiliation as these strange men ran their eyes up and down her. "As Mr Thornton would tell you, if he knew me at all."

As she turned away, a hand caught her elbow. She turned to face him.

"I'm sorry. That was not fair."

"No. It was not." Margaret replied. "I do not know why you would say such a thing."

"Miss Hale!" Margaret's head turned at the sound of her name.

Seeing Fanny Thornton in London was unexpected, yet somehow made far more sense to Margaret than her brother's presence here. Fanny had spoken often of her desperation to travel to the capital, and Margaret was pleased she had finally managed it. Though Margaret did not hold London in high regard, she did appreciate the abundance of culture that was to be found. Fanny greeted her with a tight, forced smile, appraising her with a cool look in her eyes.