"What, he just left?" Bessie asked, leaning back against the pillows. "Without so much as a goodbye?"
"Yes." Margaret said. "I am afraid I have offended him most grievously. I did not mean to reject him outright, at least - at least I don't think that I did. But the way he spoke to me, he would not listen to a word I said!"
"Oh Margaret, what a tizz you've got yourself in! I thought you cared for him."
"I do not know what I feel!" Margaret protested for what felt like the tenth time that day. "I certainly do not dislike him as strongly as perhaps I once did."
"Hmm, that's generous of you." Bessie picked up the collars Margaret had brought her. "These are too generous an' all, Missy. You'll be takin' 'em back from whence they came. Tryin' to butter me up so I don't wallop you for bein' so silly?"
Margaret tried desperately to smile. It was so wonderful to hear Bessie make a joke, for the previous day Margaret had been summoned by Mary in a terrible hurry. Bessie had become so weak from coughing, Margaret was sure yesterday would be the last time she would see her friend. Yet today Margaret had arrived in Princeton to find her friend alert and in good spirits. She had brought some old collars for Bessie and Mary too, but that was mostly an excuse to leave the house after the terrible business with Mr Thornton.
"Oh Bessie, stop teasing me. I wore these when I was a child, I think if I were trying to win you over I would need something far finer. I know you must think me quite the fool."
"I just don't understand it." Bessie shifted, trying to get comfortable. Margaret leant forward, adjusting the pillow behind her back. "I was certain you were smitten last time I saw you. Kissin' in corners and all sorts!"
"Please." Margaret shook her head. "Don't even joke. I have behaved wrongly, and now everything is in such a terrible mess. What if he refuses to come for lessons anymore? My father has so little to look forward to, and Mother is growing worse by the day."
"I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sure you can set this right." Bessie wheezed heavily, but she waved away any offer of help. "Make it right. What use is it lyin' to yerself that you feel nothin' for him, when you're sitting here near tears? You cling to yer pride all you like, but all I know is - if I had a chance for love, I'd take it."
"Bessie-"
"No use denying it. I've not long left, we both know it. I've spent my life workin' for men who don't know me to pass on t'street. What have I got to show for it? Nothing but lungs that aren't fit to take a breath. Thornton's a good man, no matter what folk say about him. He's tough, that's why they don't like him. But he int cruel."
"I know." Margaret agreed. "The more I come to understand Milton, the more I see that I was unfair to him to think him cruel. Is everyone back at work?"
"Aye. Pa's not in a good way, angry at the men who broke the strike. Did you hear? Violence towards a woman, what were they thinking of?"
"I'm sure whatever was done was not so bad."
"It was enough."
Margaret stared down at the lace in her hands, knowing she must tell her friend the truth.
"It was me."
"What?"
"The woman involved in the violence, it was me. I am surprised you did not hear, for I saw many familiar faces in that crowd. Boucher was there. I have never seen a man look so wild, I was scared of what he might do."
"Aye, I knew that. He's still missing, too scared to go home while police are out lookin' for 'im. His poor wife is in quite a state. It were you, truly?"
"Yes. I - I bid Mr Thornton to go and reason with them, but I knew as soon as he stepped out that he was in danger. I should not have made him go, for it was not fair to him. There were so many of them, all of them angry - he could have been killed and I would have been the one to order him there!"
"It weren't your fault, he did not have to go. Then what? If Thornton were the one out there, how did you-"
"I ran out after him, placed myself between him and the mob." Margaret explained. "I was cast down by a stone, I do not remember much of what happened after but I found myself in the Thorntons' house."
"What? But that were just yesterday morning, you were here when I were ill!"
"Yes."
"And you with a head wound, running around t'streets? Margaret!"
Margaret looked away, embarrassed by Bessie's concern. It was not warranted, for she had been quite well. A little tired perhaps, and her body had ached where she had fallen - but it did not matter.
"You needed me. I was fine, just a little bruised."
"What did Thornton say?"
"He-" Margaret took a deep breath. "He told me that he loved me."
"Do you love him?" Bessie asked after a long silence.
Margaret looked up from folding and unfolding the collars. Bessie was staring straight at her. Margaret looked back, saddened by the pallor of her friend's skin. Her eyes, however, still held a little of the fire Margaret was so fond of - despite her weakening condition, Bessie had lost none of her spirit. Margaret felt tears gathering, for she knew her friend would soon be gone. She was wasting so much time, Bessie was right. Where was the sense in that??
"I - I-"
But their conversation had been too much for her friend because Bessie began to cough, so suddenly and so fiercely that her skin began to turn blue. Margaret patted her back in a panic, trying to soothe her as she gasped and spluttered. Mary ran in from outside, alerted by the noise. All thoughts of love and Mr Thornton were forgotten as Margaret tried to ease the suffering of the girl she had come to care for so dearly, but would lose all too soon.
-
Upon returning home, Margaret had no time to dwell on Bessie's words. Mr Bell was still in Milton, and Margaret sat with their guest and her parents. She had a new book she had been meaning to read for some time, and buried her head in it hoping that she would not be engaged in conversation.
She had forgotten about the fruit, still on the table where Mr Thornton had left it.
"How kind of Mr Thornton!" Her mother exclaimed.
"The most splendid fruit I have ever seen. The best in the county I shouldn't wonder."
"It shows his high regard for you, my dear."
"Margaret!" Her mother spoke to her directly now, and Margaret had no choice but to raise her head. "You must visit Marlborough Mills and give Mr Thornton our thanks in person for such a wonderful gift."
"I am sure a note would do as well, Mama." Margaret said.
She certainly had no wish to face Mr Thornton under the current circumstances, for he would surely be most angry at her. Well, good. Let him be angry, for if he had cared to listen for a moment or two it would have served him far better than the assumptions he had been determined to make about her. Still, her heart was racing, her stomach churning at the thought of seeing him once more.
"I saw Thornton in the street today, not far from here." Mr Bell remarked, and Margaret did not like the way he looked at her while he said it. "He didn't seem quite so in control as usual. He seemed rather distracted today. I thought he might have been visiting, he was just nearby."
Margaret's gaze returned to her book, trying to think what Mr Bell meant. Certainly, he had been angry when he had left, but he had seemed in control of his senses. She thought of Bessie's words again.
Do you love him?
"Margaret?"
"Excuse me."
Margaret left the room, feeling her throat tighten and eyes well. She walked up the stairs to her room, suddenly fatigued. It was too much. This was all too much.
A year ago, her life had felt entirely her own. She did what she wished, went where she wished and spoke to who she wished. Now, whisked away to this place by her father, nothing felt like hers anymore. In Helstone, she had loved the fields and the flowers, always enveloped by the scent of nature. Even that had been taken from her, leaving only grey buildings and dirty chimneys in its place. What she wouldn't give to return to Helstone, to live that life again without the shadows of death and misery that haunted her here.
Margaret slept poorly that night. She tossed and turned, her mind conjuring cruel and taunting images as soon as she managed to drift into sleep. Twisted visions of her brother on the gallows, of Bessie cold and lifeless, of her mother meeting the same fate..and of John. She dreamt what would have happened if she had not gone out there, if she had not intervened. She dreamt of him dead, lying in a pool of his own blood surrounded by jeering men.
She awoke with a gasp, her chest heaving and her forehead damp with perspiration. She swallowed heavily, gripping at the bedsheets as she tried to calm herself. She sobbed, for she was so troubled by the things her mind had been wicked enough to conjure when it should have been resting.
When she had calmed, she lay back down. When it came to her, sleep was blissfully dreamless.
The next morning, after little sleep and feeling no more certain of her feelings than she had the previous day, Margaret set out to Princeton. Perhaps Bessie would cheer her up, for Bessie seemed far wiser on these matters than Margaret. Margaret felt as though Besise could see right into her soul, she was so astute in her observations - though Margaret would not admit that to Bessie, nor herself if truth be told.
She knocked on the door, wishing she had brought something with her. Bessie had so enjoyed the small gifts from yesterday, little scraps of lace that they were. If only they had more money, Margaret thought, to help Bessie and her family further. Pride would stop them accepting, Margaret knew, and that made her feel all the more helpless.
Mary answered the door, and Margaret turned to greet her.
"I've come for a chat with Bessie."
It was then that Margaret saw the look in Mary's eyes, and the tears that stained her face. The house was dark behind her, and Margaret's heart leapt to her throat.
"Oh Miss." Mary whispered, shaking her head and stepping aside so that Margaret could come in.
Taking a deep breath, knowing what she would find and that nothing could truly prepare her for such a sight, Margaret stepped into the tiny house.
There was Bessie, lying on the bed. Though she looked peaceful and serene, even in the dim light there was no mistaking the pallor of her skin. Margaret moved closer, knowing that there was nothing to be afraid of. Bessie deserved more than that. She looked at her friend's face; it was as if she was only sleeping. She looked truly at peace, more so than she had in her life, for the cares and burdens of a mortal life had left her now.
"I weren't here." Mary said through her tears. "I were out fetchin' sommat."
"It's alright, Mary." Margaret could not think of any words at all that could comfort her.
They stood in silence for a few moments. Margaret closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer for Bessie's soul. The door opened, and Margaret jumped at the burst of noise that broke through the stillness of the room. It was Nicholas, home at last.
She could do little to comfort the man, distraught that his daughter had died alone. Though Bessie's soul had left this world without witness, Margaret was truly comforted by just how peaceful she looked in death. No more pain, no more suffering. Nicholas sobbed over her body, and Margaret could not bear to see it. It was wrong, as Nicholas said, for a child to die before their parents. It was not fair. None of this was fair.
"I will go and get my father." Margaret said, but she did not know what use it would do really. He was experienced in death, and would surely know what to do. "I will come back."
Margaret walked home, the grief that overwhelmed her quite unlike anything she had ever known. She had been strong for the sake of Mary and Nicholas; she had known Bessie for such a short time, it would have been wrong to show her own grief. It was all so unfair, so bitterly unfair. She wanted to cry and scream with the injustice of it, that someone as kind and full of life as Bessie could be snatched away at such a young age.
"Miss Hale."
Margaret did not look up at the sound of her name, not wishing to speak to anyone. She did not wish to do anything except climb into her bed and sleep away this terrible day.
"Miss Hale!"
A tug at her elbow gave her little choice but to stop, and she looked up.
"Mr Thornton. I am sorry, I did not hear you."
"Where are you going?"
"I'm going home. I must fetch my father." She felt her throat tighten at the prospect of saying exactly why she needed her father. She repeated herself, fearing Mr Thornton had not heard her for he was looking at her in a most peculiar way. "I am just going home."
"You're going the wrong way. And you almost walked in the path of a wagon."
Margaret looked around, seeing her surroundings for the first time. Blinking, she realised she had indeed walked in entirely the wrong direction - she was near the mill and other factories. It must almost be lunchtime, and soon the streets would be filled with workers. She looked back at Mr Thornton, who was staring at her most intently. His jaw was set tightly, not even the slightest echo of warmth on his face.
"Oh. Oh, of course." She nodded. "I didn't even realise I was so off course. Thank you for your assistance."
"Is something the matter?"
She shook her head, fearing that if she voiced her problem that she would burst into tears.
"Nothing. I must get home, my father is required in Princeton. I was meant to fetch him, I must have been terribly -" She took a deep breath, aware she was speaking too quickly. "Please, do not let me take up any more of your time."
"Very well, Miss Hale. I understand."
"Bessie died." Margaret blurted out, unable to hold the words in any longer. "My friend, Bessie Higgins. She died, John."
"I'm sorry."
"That is why I must fetch my father... though I do not know what good he shall be."
"Let me walk you home." He said. "You're in no state to be alone."
"I am fine, I would not ask that of you."
"You are not asking it of me." He replied stiffly.
Though she had no wish to be in anyone's company at the moment (and certainly not his), she did not protest. Perhaps her mind was a little cloudy, for she could think of nothing but Bessie lying on her bed in Princeton.
"Alright."
Margaret walked beside him, focusing only on putting one foot in front of the other. She could think only that she would never see Bessie again, never laugh with her, or see her smile. What an unlikely friendship, yet it had been the most meaningful of her life. Bessie did not care for manners or pretences; she was honest, wry and sharp.
"I am sorry for the loss of your friend."
"Thank you."
"Is there anything I can do?"
"Do? No, no I don't think so." Margaret shook her head. "I am sorry, I am not myself. What poor company I must be."
"I would see you home safe. That is all."
"Of course." She nodded, though she resolved to make at least some sort of conversation. Perhaps distraction would rid her of this horrible empty pit in her stomach. "Things have returned to normal? The workers have returned."
"Yes."
"I am glad of it."
"It'll take a while to get back to where we were." He said stiffly. "I hope you are recovered."
"I am tired." Margaret admitted before she could snatch the words back. "These last few days have been difficult."
"I am sorry." He gritted out.
Did he think she was blaming him for her troubles? For as much as she wished to talk some sense into him, he was not to blame. She was the one who went out when he had warned her to stay at home, she had sent him out - and she had chosen to defend him. She did not regret that, but she certainly found herself regretting the argument that had transpired the following day. She swallowed heavily; now was not the time to think about this.
"I am sorry too. I can walk from here, I should not take up any more of your time. I hope that I shall see you at your lesson? Father is looking forward to your visit, I know."
His brow furrowed, and she knew for certain that he had not forgotten their argument. He had done her a kindness, but she had been mistaken in thinking it an act of friendship.
"I'm afraid I am very busy. I will send word when I can call again." He said tightly, and any ideas that he had moved past his anger ather vanished from her mind.
"Thank you. I will not attend if you do not wish me to, but please do not stop your lessons on my account. I just-"
"Rest, Miss Hale. I am sorry for the loss of your friend. Truly, I am."
Margaret looked up. He was looking at her most sincerely, and she chose to believe him. He was not an entirely unfeeling man, and it would be a cold man indeed who felt nothing at all upon hearing of the death of a woman so young as Bessie.
"Thank you. It was not your fault, you know."
"Excuse me?"
"Bessie. She worked at a different mill. Her father moved her to yours as soon as she sickened, hoping it would ease her suffering." Margaret was not sure why she was telling him any of this, nor of why she wished to reassure him Bessie did not die at his hand.
In fact, Margaret was not sure why she was talking to him at all because just the day before she had been utterly infuriated with him. But now, walking side by side as he wished to see her home safely - she felt grateful for him. How odd.
"I am only sorry it did not."
"So am I." Margaret agreed softly. "Mr Thornton, I owe you an apology."
"I think I owe it to you, Miss Hale. You made your feelings quite clear, and I was wrong to speak to you in such a way. Please, don't think any more of the matter."
"But-"
"I trust you can see your way from here?"
"John-"
"Good day to you, Miss Hale."
"Oh for pity's sake, will you just listen to me!" Margaret exclaimed.
The street was quiet, mercifully so, for if news of her sudden outburst had reached her mother she would have received a terrible scolding for forgetting her manners in such an unladylike fashion.
"Pardon?"
"You seem to talk over me, sir, and not listen to what I have to say for myself. Perhaps if you had a care enoughto hear me, rather than merely assuming you know best, you might be all the better for it."
"What do you want to say?"
"I - I meant what I said. I wish to understand you better, to know you."
"As a friend, aye I remember that well Miss Hale."
The scorn in his voice was poorly hidden, and Margaret could barely contain her own. Really, it seemed quite impossible to speak to this man in a civil manner.
"Surely you must know that I care for you in more than a friendly manner, Mr Thornton. My indiscretions must have made that much clear." Margaret said, knowing her words were almost outrageously bold. She did not care.
Mr Thornton stared straight ahead as they continued to walk, but Margaret did not miss the slight twitch of his lip. Was that - a smile? Margaret almost laughed, then was swept away by a surge of guilt, knowing this was not a time for such frivolities.
"Margaret?" Margaret lifted her head, finding her father in front of her. "Hello, dear. And John! What a surprise."
"I was seeing Miss Hale home." He tipped his hat to both of them. "Good day to both of you."
Margaret swallowed heavily as she watched him walk back the way they had come.
"Are you alright, Margaret? You look rather pale."
"I was coming for you, Father. Bessie - I'm afraid Bessie has-"
She did not need to finish her sentence, for the grief was plain to see in her face and her father merely nodded, took her arm and walked silently with her to Princeton. Now was not the time to think of Mr Thornton, but to say goodbye to her friend.