In Consequence

In Consequence - Chapter 19

John woke as pale light displaced the receding darkness in the small, unfamiliar bedroom of his wife’s maiden days. With drowsy deliberation, he roused himself to alleviate the dull ache in his hip, careful not to disturb the sleeper in front of him. Prickling pain surged through the arm now relieved from its ill-arranged position as blood rushed to resume its normal courses within.

He eased himself off the mattress and stretched as he stood upon a braided rug, his bare feet peeking from rumpled trousers. The crinkled cotton of his day shirt mocked the crimping crick in his neck. He passed his hand over the offending discomfort in a wincing exhalation of breath.

The house was silent. The horror of death’s dark visit had passed. Now there remained the tedious tasks to which the living must attend, walking and breathing the waking nightmare as they adjusted their lives to the loss while their minds searched the halls of memory to recall the voice and smiles of one who no more animates earth’s scene.

He gazed at Margaret with a painful longing to fill the void of her loss with all the tenderness of his powerful love. He wished her a peaceful repose for as long as it could be taken.

John put on the vestments of his position with thought to the unpleasant arrangements that must be made and the unavoidable alteration to his daily schedule. Unshaven and weary of heart, he dressed and silently slipped from the room. The chill of the morning fog seemed to penetrate the walls. He shivered in the October air as he descended the stairs.

Stepping into the parlor, Mr. Thornton noted the sleeping form of the gaunt servant girl - Higgins’ daughter, he had discovered - curled up under a gray wool blanket on the couch. A twinge of grateful sympathy softened the features of his face at the sight of her steadfast loyalty.

He crouched to start a fire in the cold room, where the family might gather before breakfast.

“I can see to that, Sir,” a wavering voice offered.

He turned to see the Higgins girl smoothing an errant strand of hair behind her ear. She was sitting upright, her tired face flushed in embarrassment of having been seen caught sleeping.

“I can manage here. Perhaps you could tend to the dining room,” he suggested gently. She sprang to follow his command, leaving him alone to set the coals glowing.

The doorbell rang a moment later, causing the girl to retrace her steps. Mr. Thornton’s ears pricked at the sound of a familiar voice in the hallway. He took swift paces to where his mother handed a large basket, laden with food, to Mary.

“Mother,” he exclaimed, in welcome surprise.

“Mrs. Hale…” she inquired with caution, the servant’s red-rimmed eyes and somber silence offering her little cause for hope.

The strong man dropped his gaze from the eager inquiry. “She is gone,” he muttered.

“When?” The whispered word was choked out after a moment of stunned silence.

“Sometime very late…in the night.”

Hannah’s heart bled for her son as she studied his weary, disheveled appearance. He would bear the burden of sorrow with strength and dignity, fighting against the forces which would try to crush out his happiness, so recently attained, in this unjust turn of fate. “And Margaret?” she asked after his new bride, uncertain how well the girl would bear up to the untimely strain of loss.

“She sleeps, for now,” he answered, his forehead creased in contemplation of breaking her restful peace.

“Do you go to work?”

He let out a long breath and shook his head in a quandary of indecision. “I am scheduled to meet with a buyer, who has been forestalled already for my wedding travels.”