In Consequence

In Consequence - Chapter 3

Sorry for the week's delay! - Trudy

Mr. Thornton woke the next morning at the prescribed hour, stirring himself to life at dawn, as was his habit. He opened his eyes, at once alert to the impending import of the day. Today his future would unfold with imperishable brightness or collapse beneath him with blighted hope.

The humid air seemed thick with an eager energy as he made his morning ablutions. He shaved with careful precision; staring blankly at his reflection in mute amazement at the hand that fate had played. Only yesterday morning, he had believed himself consigned to a life of solitude - a life in which he would be destined to bury himself in his work to evade the hollowness that would never be filled.

Now, there was hope that he might not live alone - that the woman who so beguiled him might become his wife.

He could scarcely believe that he should be standing here today, endeavoring to conjure the words that that he would use in confessing his heart. His breath came quickly in anxious consternation at his inadequacy. He was neither eloquent of tongue nor practiced in speaking of love. He had no knowledge of the precise words that might be acceptable to a lady of her standing.

He let out an exasperated sigh as he crossed the room to fetch his shirt. With the end of the strike and the probable return of many of his workers, he would have scant time to allow his thoughts to wander. It would be a strain to his schedule to leave the mill and go to see her, but see her he must. He could not wait another moment to know what she might make of him, and was resolved to go to Crampton by mid-morning.

He snatched his frock coat from the wardrobe and shrugged it on as he headed out. He stopped and glanced quickly around his room before stepping into the hallway and closing the door. His hopes were tremulous, but potent. He did not know what this momentous day would bring, he only knew that when he returned at nightfall, he would be a different man.

*****

Mrs. Thornton studied her son’s agitated demeanor with a furtive glance as he stepped into the breakfast room. He made no motion partake of the simple breakfast that was laid out on the table. “Will you not eat, John? It is certain to be a strenuous day with the return of the strikers,” she remarked in an attempt to care for his health.

The Master glanced at the table before relenting to her motherly admonition and seating himself to quickly partake of eggs, toast, and tea.

“What will you do with the Irish if all the hands wish to return?” she asked, wondering how much thought he had given to the predicament in which he now found himself.

“First we must see who will return,” he replied with easy logic. “It seems most of the Irish will be satisfied to return home. I will pay them for their troubles and they will be no worse for wear,” he concluded with a low sigh. He took one last draught from his teacup and rose to depart.

“I will go to Crampton at eleven or thereabouts,” he announced. The words, almost casually spoken, stilled the atmosphere like a solemn edict. Their eyes locked together in a meaningful glance before Mr. Thornton turned to take his leave.

Hannah Thornton sat rigidly in her chair as she listened to the scuffle of her son’s footsteps as he descended the stairs and heard the final thud of the outside door.

*********

Margaret dressed with languorous movements, grateful to have put yesterday behind her and unwilling to hastily relinquish the quiet privacy of her morning. She contrived that today would be one of peace and resolved to banish any unsettling thoughts. She would devote her attention to her mother and visit Bessie, if time allowed.