The Journey Home

Chapter 46 - A Toast to the Master and his Bride

In the weeks leading up to the wedding, Nicholas Higgins had met with Williams, the Marlborough Mills overseer, and the shift foremen to accelerate certain orders and delay less pressing orders to insure that there were no distractions related to Marlborough mills on the day of Margaret and John's wedding day. As it would be a day of no deliverables, and the production orders were ahead of schedule, Nicholas informed John that the workers would celebrate the Master's nuptials with a wedding breakfast of their own.
"Where will this event take place?" John asked his friend.
"At the canteen, of course. Pru and the girls have it all covered." He assured John, but John remained skeptical. "May I ask, who is paying for this party?"
"I reckon you are, of course." Nicholas announced. John raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"Is that so?"
"Well, Miss Margaret thought it was such a good idea, that she offered to pay for it..." Nicholas began.
"But..." John interrupted.
"But I knew you would never allow it. Proud man that you are." Nicholas said merrily, smirking at John's visible annoyance.
"Nicholas, I will thank you to stay out of my finances."
"That's exactly what I said to Margaret. Don't get involved in how a man chooses to spend his money, I says to her." John realized he was beaten by the combined efforts of Nicholas and Margaret, and sighed heavily.
"Will there be alcohol served?" John asked as he began to rub between his brows.
"a bit of ale will be served, of course. It's a weddin' after all." Nicholas said
"Of course." John responded with a half smile. He paused, and then grew serious, pointing a long finger at Nicholas' chest.
"Of course, you will guarantee that all hands make their times the next day."
"Of course!" Nicholas laughed heartily, and slapped John on the back.

It was the day before the wedding; John had slept only a few hours and was feeling the excitement of the ensuing nuptials. He had left things well with Margaret the prior evening. He felt guilty about hurting Margaret's feelings but the stolen moments in the vestibule had provided them with the opportunity to caress and kiss away any lingering hurt feelings. He arose earlier than usual and managed to seat himself at the breakfast table in advance of his mother, which was a near impossible feat. Time and again, John had suggested that his mother have a tray brought to her room, the suggestion of which was always received with a silent, angry scowl. He felt energized by the prospects of the day - it was his last working day before he and Margaret wed in the morrow, so he eagerly put on his top coat and strode in the early morning darkness to his office.

John worked through the morning thinking of Margaret, missing her all the more, as she was away from the school house that day, making last minute arrangements for the wedding. He was surprised to see that it was later than he expected when he looked up to find Williams in his office, with a message from the house to remind him that it was well past time to take his afternoon meal. John grabbed his overcoat from the rack and hurried to the house, knowing that his mother would hold the meal until he arrived.
When he strode into the dining room, he was surprised to see Fanny seated at the table, working through a plate full of ham steak, greens and potatoes. "Where is Mother?" he asked, his voice reflecting his concern. Fanny made circling motions above her head with her knife, which precariously held bits of food, capable of dislodging at any moment.

"Oh, la! 'Why hello, Fanny. So nice to see you, sister'," she said mockingly with her mouth full. John found himself sighing heavily once again. Was it always to be that a conversation with Fanny would involve a sarcastic response? Something inside of him held back his typical cutting response, and instead he chose to smile and provide a teasing response; a response that a more patient older brother would provide. "Fanny, what a surprise to see you. To what do I owe the honor?" He made an exaggerated bow, and looking up, his sister saw that he was smiling.

Fanny was not sure what John was about and suspected that a vicious attack was to follow. She was all too familiar with feeling the sting, and the hurt of being on the fringe of the impenetrable bond between mother and son. The bond that was never fully extended between mother and daughter. "Mother has wisely taken her meal in her room. She had to have it made special. A soup of some sort. She says she is not able to digest a real meal." She held up a fork full of a healthy cut of thick ham, as an example.
John's look of concern returned. "Perhaps I will go and look in on her." he suggested as he turned to leave.

"I wouldn't bother. I saw to her myself. She's asleep now. I didn't want her waiting for you because it would be just like you to forget to stop for dinner." Fanny pushed the ham into her mouth, and followed it with a great fork full of potato and boiled greens. John returned to the table and sat across from his sister. He looked to the serving bowls and trays in the middle of the table and served himself a small portion, as he was eager to return to work and finish the day, so that he could join Margaret at the train station to meet her cousins.

"May I ask that for the remainder of the day, you do not bother Mother with any more details of the wedding. " John tried to speak the words kindly, so as not offend his sister. Fanny dismissed his orders with a huff. "Don't be ridiculous, John. Of course I had to stop by to tell Mother about the fitting this morning. You should see Margaret's dress. Plain, as one might expect, although the veil is stunning..." Fanny rattled on, not taking a moment to breath as she described the dress Margaret would wear, along with details of her own gown.
"And the little girl! She will wear a dress she already has, straight from London. Why the child will be more fashionable than any of the guests!"
"The child has a name, Fanny. You should learn to use it."
"Oh, bother. It isn't as if she was Margaret's child and you are adopting her."
"Maria Louise. " John offered. "She will be like a niece to you." Fanny did not heed his request and continued.
"What is Margaret thinking? She is insisting that the child be present. My children will certainly not be there. Nanny has strict instructions to keep them out of sight tomorrow. You can be sure of that!"
"I'm sure that is a very wise choice on your part." John offered as he tried to finish his meal in peace. He could hear Margaret's voice in his head, calmly guiding him through responding to Fanny's silly prattling. She was becoming a part of of him, and he resisted the urge to give into the welling frustration in his chest. As he listened to Fanny's soliloquy on the advantages of planning a warm weather wedding for the sake of a broader floral selection, John calmly pushed back from the table and went to her, and gently bent down to kiss the top of her crown of golden curls.
"It sounds lovely, Fanny. Thank you for help, for I am certain we could not have planned anything as fine as you have. I was thinking I would return to work, but I think I shall see if the workers' meal is in order. I shall see you at dinner this evening. Tell Watson I look forward to his company." Fanny stopped herself before she said anything, realizing that John had actually agreed with her and thanked her for her help. For so rare a occasion, Fanny did not have an appropriate response. She watched her brother leave the room, taking his top coat with him.
"Why, you are welcome, John," she said aloud to the empty room.