In Consequence

In Consequence - Chapter 8

Thanks for waiting!  - Trudy

Margaret swept her fingers along the familiar marble-topped dressing-table and fondly touched the white linens on the carved oak bed where she had slept for many years. The room smelled of lemon water and candle wax. Everything within was the same as she had left it a year ago. A low sigh escaped her as she walked forlornly to the window to look out over the rooftops of Harley Street. But so much had changed since then, she thought, with the wistfulness of one who was yet uncertain of the future.

Aunt Shaw would never understand the strange appeal of the industrial north - the unpretentious ways of the people, the earnest pace of life, and the hopeful struggles of men to forge their own future.

Her eyes dropped to the windowsill where her diamond and emerald ring glinted in the late afternoon sun. She had known her aunt would not approve of her engagement to a Milton manufacturer. Edith, too, had given Margaret a look of despair before exchanging a glance with her mother upon hearing the news.

Margaret looked out the window as well-dressed passersby strolled along the cobbled streets below. She had held the same views once herself; it had not been so long ago that she had felt that tradesmen were an unseemly set, pretentious in their desire to be accorded respect for their accumulation of wealth. She had supposed their kind to be far too preoccupied with money and undisturbed by their lack of proper education.

She bowed her head in shame, disconcerted by the surge of sorrow that swept through her as she contemplated how harshly she had judged the man who now fascinated her. She felt her indignation rise at the thought that others should evaluate Mr. Thornton by his occupation in trade instead of his fine character.

But what did she truly know of him, she wondered still? His rise to power from adversity had required remarkable tenacity and determination. What principles he held, he held resolutely. She knew, too, that his thirst for higher learning was sincere. He was widely admired in Milton for his intelligence and judgment.

Underneath his strong and confident exterior, he had shown her a tenderness and vulnerability that she had not known he possessed. Yet still, there seethed within him such force of feeling that he occasionally burst forth with an unguarded vehemence that alarmed her. She had first witnessed his temper ignite at the poor wretch who had smoked in his mill; more recently, he had balked at her own impertinent insistence that he hire the man who had injured him.

A shiver ran down her spine and she hugged herself as she recalled the way he had roughly enfolded her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers. It frightened and bewildered her to think that she had aroused him to such action.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. “Margaret?” she heard Edith’s tentative voice call.

“Come in,” she answered, bracing herself for whatever her cousin had come to say.

Edith’s pretty face was contorted with worry as she slipped into the room. “Margaret, I fear I was not prepared to receive your unexpected news. It’s only that I had hoped that you would return to London one day,” she began apologetically. “You must own that it is surprising for us to discover that you would choose to marry a tradesman from the north. Why, you have said yourself in your letters how gray and dirty and cold it is up there, and you have not cast a favorable light on these cotton mill owners! Is it any wonder that I should be aghast at your announcement?” she asked quite innocently.

“No, I own it is not,” Margaret reluctantly agreed, ashamed of her earlier letters and uncertain how she might explain her engagement when she hardly understood herself how she had become entangled in this situation.

The urge to defend her choice arose, however, at her cousin’s words. “I have learned that there is much to appreciate in Milton, despite its harsh appearances. I wish you could meet Mr. Thornton. He has a force of character which is to be admired, quite unlike what I had deemed a....a man of business capable of,” she explained in flustered bursts.

Edith regarded Margaret with confusion. “Oh, I do hope you do not feel compelled to marry this Mr. Thornton because no other offers were forthcoming. You know, Henry is quite fond of you...”

“I could not marry Henry, Edith,” Margaret interrupted, irritated by her insinuation. “I am fond of him, but...not in that way...” she clarified haltingly, gazing down at her hands as she recalled how mortified she had been to receive a proposal of marriage from Henry the previous summer.

Edith studied her cousin with increased interest as a new and wholly unexpected possibility dawned on her. She had never imagined Margaret to be the romantic type; she had always been so reasonable and level-headed during their years growing up together. It had not occurred to her that Margaret might fall in love with someone as unlikely as a manufacturer from the dreary north. Her heart softened, although she still felt a tug of disappointment that her vision of cozy companionship with her cousin would not be realized. “Of course, if you are in love, that is entirely a different story,” she said gently.

Margaret blushed. “Oh...I...” she stuttered helplessly as she spun around to face the window, feeling a fluttering in her breast as she turned the notion over in her mind.

Edith regarded her long-time companion curiously. She was truly eager to meet the northern manufacturer who so easily discomposed her placid cousin. “I only hope that you will be happy, Margaret,” she concluded, when no answer was forthcoming from the silent figure in front of her.

“I believe I will be,” Margaret answered shakily, as she turned to face her cousin with a smile that offered middling reassurance.

Edith nodded. “I will say no more, then, and let you rest. I will see you at dinner,” she remarked before quietly exiting the room.

I believe I will be. The words she had spoken echoed in her mind, gathering with them the growing conviction of their truth. The fear of marrying Mr. Thornton which had assailed her only days ago now seemed largely diminished. Despite the uncertainties that still lingered in her thoughts, she felt an underlying sense of assurance that she was following the right path. She could not explain it, but she felt her future was secure in his hands.


*****

Mr. Thornton scanned the milling crowds under the exalted pane-glass ceiling of the Crystal Palace as Mr. Latimer explained the finer details of investing in cotton to the masses of interested Londoners standing before him. The Master chastised himself for clinging to the romantic notion of finding Margaret among the thousands that visited these exhibits every day.

Fanny had been delighted at his quick turn-around in deciding that they would attend the Great Exhibition, having pestered him for weeks about going. Mr. Latimer was hopeful that new capital might pour into Marlborough Mills from southern gentlemen enticed to participate in the growth of industry and agog at the impressive display of the modern looms’ power and precision. Mr. Thornton also had wary hopes of gaining financial interest, for the mill still struggled to regain its steady profits after the blundering strike.