A Heart for Milton

A Heart for Milton - Chapter 16

A Heart for Milton - Chapter 16



The evening of the ball had finally arrived. In the finer homes of Milton, women preened and pouted as servants pinned flowers and ribbons in delicately coiffed hair, the battles with corsets and crinolines behind them.

Dixon stepped back after placing a decorative piece of black lace and violet ribbon in Margaret's hair. The young mistress stood to admire herself in the oval mirror. She wore a gown of violet silk overlaid with delicate black lace. Her full skirt accentuated the form-fitting bodice, and satin roses ran along the modestly sloping neckline from shoulder to shoulder. Long, black gloves adorned her arms.

"Even in your mourning dress, you're sure to show those crusty Milton folk what a true lady looks like. You'll be the envy of all those northern girls with all their finery," the proud servant crowed.

"Dixon," Margaret gently protested in response to the servant's effusive praise and condescending judgments on Milton society. "It is not my intention to surpass all others. I only hope I am well received so that my husband may retain his high standing," Margaret related.

"Humph!" Dixon scoffed. "He is the one who is lucky to have married such a well-bred girl as you. For all his money and power here, he is a tradesman nonetheless - not a gentleman's son. Why, you are far..."

"Dixon!" the young bride called out sharply. "You will not speak that way in this house. I have not yet met a gentleman who has accomplished half of what my husband has, and there is no one that I regard more highly," she declared with conviction. "Perhaps I am strongly persuaded by my affections, but it is I who feel most grateful to have married such a man and I will not hear a word against him," she announced decisively.

The loyal maid pursed her lips and reluctantly nodded her acquiescence. "I'm certain you will only raise his stature here. You could hardly do otherwise, Miss Margaret," she assured the new wife.

"Thank you, Dixon," she answered before the servant bade her good evening and departed.


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Mr. Thornton looked out the drawing room window, his hands clasped behind his back. Darkness had not yet taken over the gray haze of the cool spring evening. He did not relish the thought of spending the night making pleasant conversation and being compelled to dance with women who held little interest for him. The contrivances and formalities of such affairs held little enjoyment; he vastly preferred to spend a quiet evening with his wife.

He smiled to himself. This occasion would be different, however. Margaret would be there with him. He would take great pleasure and not a small measure of pride in presenting his wife to his acquaintances. He was certain there could be no finer lady in attendance.

He turned around at the sound of someone entering the room, and stared in wonder as his wife glided toward him in the dwindling light of the room. Would she always have the power to move him so, he wondered? She was indescribably beautiful - the sight of her lustrous skin and the soft curves of her feminine form made his heart begin to pound.

Margaret was equally impressed with her husband's appearance. She drew in her breath at the sight of him and released it slowly as he approached her with a warming smile, her eyes examining the full length of him.

He was impeccably dressed in a white waistcoat that cut low to reveal a crisp cotton shirt and white cravat. The black dress coat trailed elegantly behind him and lay open in front, making his legs appear endlessly long. His boots were polished and gleaming and the white gloves he wore added an air of elegance to his every movement.

Did he not know how devastatingly handsome he was, she wondered as he gathered her into his arms? She could not resist sliding her hands along the surface of his broad chest to finally rest her hands behind his neck. He smelled of cologne and sandalwood soap, and as he pressed her firmly to him she fairly swooned at the recollection of the intimacies they shared.

"You look dazzling. I will be loathe to leave your side this evening," Mr. Thornton uttered earnestly as he began to nuzzle her neck just below the ear, drawn by the scent of her perfume and the alluring smell of her freshly washed skin.

"I believe you will be expected to socialize with others, Mr. Thornton," she reminded him teasingly. She quivered as his mouth trailed downward to taste the curve of her neck.

"John!" his mother shouted, more in surprise than in reprimand, as she walked into the room.

Mr. Thornton startled and lifted his head at once, but only slowly turned to face her, unavoidably feeling like a guilty child.

Mrs. Thornton's eyes shifted uncomfortably a moment before addressing him more calmly. "Perhaps you could check to see if the coach is ready," she astutely directed.

He moved to carry out her order, relieved to be given temporary escape.

"You look very well, Margaret," Mrs. Thornton complimented the blushing young woman before her. "Although I'm certain you don't need me to tell you," she added dryly, remembering what she had just witnessed.

Margaret blushed anew and bowed her head slightly. "Thank you," she answered. "You also look well," she offered. Mrs. Thornton wore the dress she had worn at the dinner party last summer, a simple gown of dark silk with ruffled lace along the neckline from shoulder to shoulder.

Mr. Thornton returned to escort the ladies of the house to the carriage, and the Thorntons of Marlborough Mills were soon off to the Milton Ball.

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The new town hall was impressive. Looking more like a cathedral than a house of government, its arched doorways were carved in stone, and ornate stained glass windows adorned the walls.

After leaving their wraps in the cloakroom, the Thorntons climbed the sweeping marble staircase to enter the main hall that would be the evening's ballroom. Margaret eyes were drawn to the high, painted ceilings and glowing bulbs of the large gas-lit chandeliers. Huge paintings in gilded frames hung above oak paneled walls. Magnificent profusions of flowers were stationed around the hall on columned pedestals and an enormous fireplace of carved marble stood majestically along the wall. Gentlemen and ladies conversed and greeted each other with eager formality on the gleaming wooden floor, and the buzz of their mixed voices filled the hall with expectant energy.

Mr. Thornton escorted his wife toward a gathering of masters and their wives, while his mother moved across the hall to speak to an acquaintance from church. Margaret recognized the men and women from the dinner party of a year ago. How things had changed since then!

"Thornton!" Mr. Slickson called out upon seeing his colleague approach. "We have heard of your recent news. Congratulations on your marriage," he offered as he eyed the new Mrs. Thornton with appreciation.

"Thank you," Mr. Thornton said graciously. "May I introduce my wife?" he stated with unhidden pride.

Margaret bowed her head to each person as introductions were formerly made among the congregated wives and masters.

"Ah!" Mr. Slickson noised as a dapper young man appeared at his side. "Allow me to introduce my nephew, Albert Slickson. He has been at university in London and is staying with us to study our industrial town, is that right?" he asked him.

"Yes, Uncle," Albert answered politely, his green eyes shifting slightly in discomfort. The scholar carried himself with the practiced dignity of youth, his bearing swift and purposeful. Much more handsome than his near relative, his light hair and alert countenance was borne on a fine frame of medium height that exuded strength and vigor.

"This is Mr. Thornton of Marlborough Mills and his new bride," Mr. Slickson introduced his nephew to the newcomers.

"Very pleased to meet you," Albert announced with sincerity, bowing to the Master and his wife. He gave Margaret a pleasant smile, feeling an uncommon affinity with the woman who was nearer his own age.

The men drew Albert and Mr. Thornton aside with them and began to discuss how business was conducted at Thornton's mill, leaving the ladies to find their own topic of conversation.

"You were at the Thornton's dinner party last summer, were you not?" Mrs. Hamper asked Margaret with a knowing glimmer in her eyes.

"Yes, I was," Margaret replied warily, remembering acutely the embarrassing argument that had developed at dinner that evening.

"Well, it seems that opposites do attract, doesn't it?" Mrs. Hamper commented, raising her eyebrows slightly and giving a pointed look to Mrs. Slickson.

"I don't believe that my husband and I are so different," Margaret responded gently in defense of their obvious insinuation.

"No? Perhaps you are not aware of your powers to persuade. I am certain that your husband's recent experiments in aiding the hands originated from some outside influence," the other woman remarked lightly with an accusatory edge.

"I'm certain Mr. Thornton can come to his own conclusions regarding his business and his moral imperatives. Is it not our Christian duty to aid those in need when it is within our power to do so?" Margaret countered, barely containing the ire she felt building inside at their narrow mindedness.

"Yes. Well, it was nice to see you again, Mrs. Thornton," Mrs. Slickson blithely excused herself with a slight nod of the head as she and Mrs. Hamper turned to greet a friend who had recently entered the room.

Margaret sighed, despairing of ever finding a kindred mind in the female ranks of Milton society.

"I could not help overhearing," young Mr. Slickson interrupted her solitary stance, stepping nearer to her. "You are disposed to improve the lives of the lower classes?" he inquired respectfully.

"Yes, although it does not appear to be a favorable subject here in Milton," she answered, somewhat taken aback at his forwardness in approaching her.

"It should be. It is a subject dear to the heart of our own Prince Albert. There are more forward thinkers in London, I believe, than in our more remote cities, I'm afraid," he commented thoughtfully with an approving smile. "You are not from Milton, I gather?"

"No, I'm from Hampshire. I also lived in London for many years," she answered.

"Indeed," he acknowledged with a growing admiration.

A few steps away, Mr. Thornton, seeing his wife abandoned by the company of wives and newly engaged by the young university student, extracted himself from the increasingly invasive inquiries of his colleagues.

"Thornton is as cool as they come. You cannot get beneath that steely exterior," Mr. Hamper remarked to Watson and Slickson as the new husband departed.

"Perhaps he's not as cool as he appears - it would seem he prefers a little fire in his bed," Watson snidely remarked with a wily smirk. The men chortled in smug agreement.

"Your wife has told me she is from Hampshire," Albert remarked to Mr. Thornton as he joined them. "How did you manage to find her?" he asked good-naturedly.

"She moved to Milton with her family," he answered rather stiffly, uncomfortable with the young man's easy familiarity.

Fanny descended upon her brother's small group. "It is time to arrange your dancing partners for the first set," she shooed the men away with a fluttering of her hand. "Margaret, I am so pleased you could come to our soiree despite your circumstances," she welcomed her sister-in-law. "Is not the hall magnificent?" she enthused.

"It is sure to be a grand affair, the setting is marvelous," Margaret praised as she noted the grand sweep of her sister-in-law's skirt. Fanny wore a silk gown of yellow, covered with innumerable layers of gauzy white tarlatan, which were adorned with small flowers, and ribbons of almost every color. She was a veritable walking garden, Margaret thought, as she noted Fanny's penchant for all things ostentatious.

"Oh, Ann!" Fanny called out melodiously to her friend who had just arrived, motioning for her to come nearer.

Margaret turned to see Miss Latimer accompanied by a middle-aged man, who, although not blessed with grand looks, was evidently pleased with his privilege in accompanying the lovely young woman. Miss Latimer looked very fetching in a light and airy gown of pale pink tulle and lace, her dark blonde hair adorned with delicate white flowers.

"Ann, you will remember my new sister, Margaret Thornton, formerly Miss Hale?" Fanny introduced her brother's wife.

Ann and Margaret nodded to each other with polite smiles.

"Mr. Holsworth," the gentleman in attendance introduced himself to Fanny and Margaret. "Very pleased to meet you," he added with eager grace.

Ann gave a meager smile. Her father had selected Mr. Holsworth as a probable suitor after Mr. Thornton had become unavailable. A fellow banker, Mr. Holsworth was a kind man with relative wealth, but his awkward comportment and unappealing appearance left much to be desired in Ann's estimation.

Fanny reminded the newly arrived couple to get Ann's dance card, as the music would begin soon.

Turning to her attention to her sister-in-law again, Fanny began to describe the great effort involved in preparing the hall. She began to explain her role in selecting the flowers and the refreshments, but excused herself with some haste as she noticed several distinguished newcomers enter the room.

Relieved to be alone for a moment, Margaret watched as Miss Latimer and her escort greeted Mr. Thornton, who was attempting to find his way back to his wife. When he reached her at last, the trumpet sounded the signal for the first set of dances to begin. Mr. Thornton sighed aloud.

"Don't worry about me; I shall keep myself occupied well enough. You mustn't be seen catering to me all evening," Margaret advised him, giving his gloved hand a gentle squeeze as she smiled lovingly at him.

He nodded in reluctant agreement and left her side to seek out his first dance partner.

The band struck the first chord of the opening promenade and a grand scene of moving couples commenced to dominate the floor. Margaret observed with some amusement the patient smile on her husband's face as he led the mayor's daughter in measured steps. The rather plain-looking girl was obviously very pleased to have found herself escorted by the redoubtable Mr. Thornton.

Margaret watched the first few dances, receiving an apologetic glance from her husband at every break. She smiled at his attentiveness.

"What a shame that the most glorious women in the hall should be relegated to the role of elegant wallflower! I would lead you to the dance floor in rebellion of this tired nonsense of endless mourning if it were not for the ludicrous tattle it would provoke among the so-called refined of our class," Mr. Bell declared as he sidled next to his goddaughter.

"Mr. Bell! I didn't know you would be here!" Margaret exclaimed, her eyes shining in delight to see her father's friend.

"Yes, the Ladies Society insisted I should make an appearance. I thought it a decent excuse for coming to see you," he answered with his usual charm.

"You need no excuse to visit us. Please, won't you come to dinner tomorrow evening? Will you stay at Marlborough Mills?" she asked earnestly.

"I would be delighted to dine with you tomorrow evening, and I thank you for your invitation to stay, but I have already made arrangements to stay at the hotel," he answered. "I'm afraid I turn into a rather irritable old codger when it gets late, and would not be very good company after dinner," he explained with a half-wink.

"I don't believe you could be poor company, but will allow you your freedom to leave us shortly after dinner. I'm pleased you can come," she responded warmly.

Upon noticing the entrance of a distinguished older gentleman and his wife, Mr. Bell directed Margaret towards the couple.

"Ah, Mr. Bell, it's good to see you here! Welcome. Welcome to our fair city," the gentleman greeted his old colleague.

"Thank you, I make my appearance now and then," he responded. "Margaret, may I introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Nathaniel Benson? Mr. Benson is one of the earliest investors in industry here in Milton. A very astute fellow, I must add," Mr. Bell informed her as she bowed her formal greetings.

"Allow me to introduce my goddaughter, the new Mrs. Thornton of Marlborough Mills," Mr. Bell added with pleasure.

"Mr. Thornton has married! I had not heard. You have married recently, my dear?" the affable fellow inquired kindly.

"Yes, just a few weeks ago," she answered, vaguely aware of the pause in the music.

"Well then, I wish you every happiness. Mr. Thornton is a fine man of great determination and uncommon wisdom. I've watched him carefully for many years. I see he also has excellent taste in the finer things in life as well as a keen eye for business," Mr. Benson stated with alacrity. "And speaking of the man, here he is," he added heartily.

Margaret turned eagerly to see her husband approach, and they exchanged a brief glance.

"Mr. Thornton, I have not seen you for some time," the wealthy Milton investor amicably greeted him.

"Mr. Benson, Mr. Bell," the younger man acknowledged respectfully. "I was out of town recently..." he began.

"So, I have heard. You are recently returned from your wedding holiday, I gather. Congratulations, my fellow. I'd begun to think you quite oblivious to the charms of the fairer sex - utterly consumed by your dedication to industry. No doubt, as in all things, you were only persistent in your quest for perfection," Mr. Benson remarked in good humor.

"Indeed. Just so," Mr. Thornton readily confirmed, observing in a glance how beautifully his wife blushed; her feminine grace at once enthralled him and ignited in him every manly desire. He wanted nothing more that to carry her off to some private place so that he might give her just reason to blush.

"Here you are!" Fanny declared as she bustled to her brother's side, flashing her most charming smile at the Bensons and Mr. Bell for her intrusion. "Are you not engaged for the next dance?" she casually reminded him as the first strains of a waltz sounded from the band. Her eyes shifted somewhat nervously, having sought her brother on behalf of her friend, Ann Latimer, who was waiting for her promised partner some distance away.

Mr. Thornton introduced his sister before reluctantly excusing himself to find Miss Latimer.

As Mr. Bell continued to chat with Mr. Benson, Margaret watched as Miss Latimer smiled prettily at her husband's bow and proffered arm. Her eyes followed them through the swirling crowd of colorful gowns and black suits as they moved across the gleaming floor, turning and gliding in perfect accord with the music.

They made a very elegant couple, Margaret considered as she noted how Ann's fair colored dress and light hair contrasted strikingly with her husband's dark frame and similarly dark hair. She was impressed with how well they danced, and wondered with an admiring smile if there was anything he could not do.

Her smile vanished, however, as the couple came closer into view. Miss Latimer's countenance displayed her particular delight in finding herself in Mr. Thornton's formal grasp. Margaret felt a strange surge of jealousy grip her as she recognized that Ann still held a tendresse for her husband, recalling in a flash how Ann had cloyingly grasped John's arm at Fanny's wedding. Studying her husband's face, however, she felt a measure of satisfaction - he wore a practiced smile of gentility.

"Margaret," Mr. Bell interrupted her thoughts, "shall we see what sumptuous fare is available in the refreshment room?" he invited.

"Of course," she replied kindly, taking one last glance at the dancers before taking her godfather's arm to be led to an adjacent room.

Mr. Thornton was not the only one to notice Margaret's retreat from the ballroom. Across the hall, Slickson's nephew watched the graceful figure of the manufacturer's wife while he made conversation with some of Milton's elite.

In the large refreshment room, guests milled about two long tables festooned with draping cloths and laden with cakes, biscuits, sandwiches, and tea and lemonade. Mr. Bell assisted Margaret and then helped himself to the abundant offerings. As Mr. Bell became involved in a conversation with others, Margaret eventually meandered to the far side of the room, sipping a glass of lemonade as she studied a grand portrait on the wall.

"I am sorry you cannot dance," a friendly voice addressed her. "I offer you my sincerest condolences. I understand your father died recently," Albert Slickson spoke solemnly as Margaret turned to see him.

"Yes, it has been only two months past," she replied with some hesitation, feeling a little disconcerted to be singled out by him.

"He was a parson?" he continued, having already acquired as much information about her as could be garnered by his uncle and other companions.

"Yes, and a scholar. He gave lectures and took on private pupils while in Milton," she added with a measure of pride.

"Indeed, then I gather that you must be very well learned yourself. And as a parson's daughter, you naturally have an interest in improving the lives of those less fortunate in rank and wealth," he remarked thoughtfully. "Not to help justice in her need would be an impiety," he quoted an ancient philosopher.

"I believe Plato is correct," Margaret readily answered. "It seems to me that the greatest injustice in this present day is to keep the poor ignorant. If they might be schooled - learn to read and write - their lives might be much improved. My father always lived by Aristotle's maxim - 'All men by nature desire knowledge.'"

The young man was suitably impressed and stared at her momentarily in rapt admiration. "Yes, I quite agree," he answered with a warming smile. "And have you begun any charitable works toward that end?" he asked interestedly.

Margaret was struck by his question. "No, not at present. I have only recently come into a position which might offer me the opportunity to do so," she responded, reflecting quietly on his suggestion.

As the music stopped in the ballroom, Mr. Slickson glanced at the open doorway. "If I may be of any assistance in your endeavors, I hope you will notify me. I would be pleased to be part of such a noble cause," he said, turning to her again. "If you will excuse me, I believe I am obligated to the next dance," he explained before gallantly bowing and taking his leave of her.

The next voice that broke her chosen solitude gave a sparkle to her eyes and sent a warm thrill through her veins. "How is it that you are unattended?" her husband asked with some concern as he approached her unsuspecting figure.

"May I not seek a little respite for myself?" she answered in good humor as she quickly turned to him. "I am very glad to see you. You have been very busy so far this evening. You perform very gallantly for one who professes to dislike such affairs," she complimented him with a gleam in her eye.

"You approve of my talent for deception?" he retorted smoothly with a crooked smile.

"Are you sure you do not derive any pleasure in dancing?" she countered. "Your dancing partners seemed to enjoy themselves immensely," she teased.

"Did they? I did not take notice. There is only one woman I wish to have in my arms," he told her, his eyes blazing with the ardor he must suppress. His fingers twitched in his desire to touch her.

He let out a slow breath. "May I get you another drink?" he offered.

Margaret accompanied him to the refreshment table, where her husband inevitably came upon people of his acquaintance. Mr. Thornton introduced his wife to the town judge and his wife and a local barrister.

Sometime later, after Mr. Thornton was called into service again on the dance floor, Margaret headed for one of the many seats supplied around the hall's periphery and found herself suddenly face to face with Miss Latimer.

"Mrs. Thornton," the beautiful banker's daughter greeted Margaret with stilted kindness. "I hope you are enjoying yourself. Your husband seems to be a rather popular dance partner this evening," she remarked.

'Yes, I have noticed. He seems to be very well known in Milton," she replied politely.

"Yes, it is a shame that the strike has put his business at risk. He was the most eligible bachelor in Milton for many years. Why, I even had eyes for him myself at one time. It is a wonder he never married until now," Miss Latimer commented smugly.

"I would not judge a man solely on his wealth or success in business. It is far more important to consider his character and purpose of heart. Mr. Thornton is a man of substance. Perhaps he had not the fortune of finding anyone of his kind here in Milton," she readily retorted with a light tone of forced pleasantness.

A subtle smile played on Margaret's lips as she observed the belle of the ball stiffen and thrust her chin into the air before turning away to find more agreeable company.

Margaret was content to listen to the lilting music of the quadrille band as she watched the company of elegantly dressed men and ladies dance several polkas and a Schottische. Her mother-in-law joined her before long, taking the seat next to her.

"The ball is well attended," the Mrs. Thornton commented. "I am certain Fanny will be pleased," she added.

"Yes, it seems to be a great success," Margaret responded. "Everything is beautiful and the people are very kind," she remarked magnanimously.

Mrs. Thornton nodded her agreement, pleased that her son's wife appreciated the city's grand affair.

The music faded and the dancers dispersed before the next set was called.

Mr. Thornton approached his wife and mother with a broad smile.

"Are you free for a time, Mr. Thornton?" his wife inquired, teasing him for being so often on the dance floor.

"I am. However, I came to seek another dance partner," he answered with a mischievous gleam in his eye. "May I have the honor of the next dance, Mrs. Thornton?" he asked his mother.

Mrs. Thornton startled, her eyes darting to her son's face and then quickly falling to her lap. "Don't be ridiculous, John. I'm sure there are many young ladies who may need a partner," she reasoned in her discomfort to be called to dance.

"There may be; however the two ladies whom I most prefer and admire are before me. Am I to be denied the privilege of dancing with either?" he asked earnestly.

Mrs. Thornton took a deep breath. "Very well, if you insist," she relented as the corners of her mouth edged upward and she stood to take his proffered arm.

Margaret's face glowed with admiration for the man she had married as she watched him lead his mother around the ballroom in an elegantly spirited polka. Her heart warmed in delight to witness mother and son enjoying themselves, a beaming smile enlivening her mother-in-law's usually staid countenance.

When the dance finished, her husband and his mother were swallowed up in the surrounding company, and Mrs. Thornton was persuaded to join in the quadrille that soon formed. Margaret's lips twisted in slight irritation to see her husband paired once more with Miss Latimer, whose smiles seemed a hint too charming. Mr. Thornton cast a warm glance at his wife before the music began, and Margaret returned it with a knowing smile. She would not give Miss Latimer a second thought.

"There you are!" Mr. Bell declared as he walked over to where Margaret was sitting. "I have come to say good night. I feel my endurance for social pleasantries coming to a rapid end," he explained with a wry smile.

"We will see you tomorrow, then, at dinner," she reminded him as she stood to walk with him.

"Yes, of course. I look forward to it," he responded. "I am pleased to see you looking so content. Yours must be a happy home," he added with fond attention for her well-being.

"Yes it is. I...we are very happy," she confirmed, as a sense of deep gratitude welled up inside her, misting her eyes.

"Good. I am glad I have lived to see you so well settled. Your father would be very pleased indeed," he affirmed with conviction.

The tears that had begun to form fell unbidden from her eyes at his words.

"Oh, dear! I see I have caused you to spring a leak," Mr. Bell joked in his consternation to have made her cry.

A quick puff of air escaped her lips as she laughed in spite of herself, embarrassed to have become so emotional.

"Come, come. Let us find some fresh air," he insisted as he handed her his handkerchief and began to lead her away from the ballroom.

Mr. Thornton caught sight of his wife's hurried departure and was at once unsettled to note that she was dabbing her eyes in some distress.

Mr. Bell escorted his goddaughter to a darkened room away from the grand hall and stood awkwardly by her, uncertain how to aid her recovery. Margaret took several deep breaths and assured him that she was fine.

It was not long before Mr. Thornton appeared in the doorway and briskly made his way toward them.

"Ah, Thornton!" Mr. Bell called out in relief. "I'm afraid I'm not any good with women's tears. I will say good-bye to you both and leave you to tend to your bride," he said, rapidly extricating himself from the situation.

Mr. Thornton politely nodded his acknowledgement before turning his entire attention to his wife. "Margaret, was is it?" he asked gently, his brow creased in concern.

"It is silly, really," she said apologetically, smiling as she blinked away all remnants of her tears.

He waited patiently for her to explain, his countenance still bearing a serious expression.

"Mr. Bell reminded me of how happy I am," she offered, looking to him to see confusion still cloud his face. "And then he mentioned father...." she added, unable to continue.

Mr. Thornton let out his breath as his face softened in understanding. "You loved your father dearly," he said softly.

She nodded her head and moved closer to be gathered into his comforting arms, sobbing again as she remembered poignantly how her father had admired her husband.

"Although we know not how, perhaps your father knows of us and is happy," he whispered near her ear, gently gliding his gloved hand along her back as his chin nestled in her hair.

She nodded and stepped back to compose herself.

Mr. Thornton moved his thumb across her cheek, tenderly wiping away a glistening tear. The distant strains of a gentle waltz filled the silence. "Come, dance with me," he invited soothingly, placing his hand at the small of her back and holding his hand up for her acceptance.

Her somber features brightened a little as she lifted her eyes to his. She hesitated a moment, looking toward the door to ensure they were alone.

"Just for moment," he gently coaxed her and smiled as she slowly placed one hand on his shoulder and the other in his waiting hand.

They moved in seamless harmony around the shadowed room, the rhythm of the music flowing through them to make limbs and feet the scribe of a force beyond themselves - expressing something astonishingly beautiful with an inherent ease. Captivated by the joyous exhilaration of their synchronized motions, the world around them was a blur - nothing else existed. They beheld in each other's eyes for a moment the sublime reason for being alive - a love that set everything in motion and transformed their earthly existence into a symphony of joy.

Reluctantly, they came to a stop as the final chord dissolved into silence.
They remained transfixed for a moment longer, staring into each other's eyes, unwilling to relinquish their close contact until Margaret bowed her head and took a step back upon hearing voices in the hall. "We should return to the ball," she suggested quietly.

As they neared the brilliant lights of the grand hall, a man of distinction who seemed to be followed by a small gathering, greeted Mr. Thornton. "Mr. Thornton, how is business faring this year?" the gentleman asked with confident ease.

"It seems it will take longer to recover from the strike than I had hoped," Mr. Thornton answered somewhat elusively. "Allow me to introduce my wife, who has only recently moved to Milton from Hampshire," he cordially offered with a telling smile as Margaret nodded her greeting. "Margaret, this is Mr. Edward Wilkinson, our local Member of Parliament," Mr. Thornton informed her.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Thornton. And how do you find Milton?" Mr. Wilkinson asked curiously.

"I have found the pace of life here quite invigorating and am hopeful that such an industrious spirit can forward much progress. There is opportunity for improvement almost everywhere one looks," she answered forthrightly, at once capturing the attention of all those hovering near the politician.

Mr. Thornton observed in bemused admiration as Margaret continued to discuss with Mr. Wilkinson what might be done to improve the plight of the poor working class.

From a more distant location, Albert Slickson noticed with some surprise the animated conversation that seemed to be taking place between the enchanting Mrs. Thornton and Milton's Member of Parliament. His eyes lingered upon the scene until he was called back into the discussion in which he was supposedly engaged.

As the evening grew closer to an end, Margaret once again sat with her mother-in-law to watch the dancers take advantage of the final set of dances. As she observed another young lady smile with barely veiled adoration in her husband's arms, she considered the truth of what Hannah had bragged of long ago - that John was sought out by all the girls of Milton. Margaret had seen the glances her husband received as he made the rounds of the hall, and she had felt herself the subject of uncomfortable study by various women all evening.

She was not in any way disturbed, however. She felt secure in his affections, and could only rejoice in wonder that she had been the one to win him.


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Mr. Thornton hastily pulled off his gloves and lit the lamp just inside the door, ushering both his wife and his mother through the darkened house and upstairs to their rooms. He escorted his mother to her bedchamber and returned to open the door of his room for his wife to enter, only too glad that Dixon had been dismissed for the night.

"I believe that went well," Margaret stated, taking a deep breath of relief that the evening was over.

"Yes," Mr. Thornton answered as he set the lamp on the dressing table and moved to his wife's side. He had watched her from afar all night. Arrayed prettily among the others, she had stood out to him as a paragon of beauty and grace. No one could compare with her.

"Fanny should be pleased, it was a grand event," she added as her husband tugged at her long gloves, helping her slip them off.

"Um-hmm" he murmured distractedly as he brushed his hands lightly over her neck and into her hair, removing the pins and watching the tresses tumble free. He remembered how enthralled he had been by her beauty when she had first appeared to him in a similar gown - at his mother's dinner party the summer before. How eminently touchable she had appeared and how unattainable she had been! His body ached to claim her now.

"I believe you know the entire city," she chattered, as he continued to remove every pin from her hair. "I hope I passed muster as your wife," she continued on, her pulse quickening at his quiet determination.

"You more than passed muster," he replied in a low voice as he lightly brushed his lips over her temple as the last tendril of auburn hair fell to her shoulders. Indeed, he had seen the eyes of many men linger upon his wife. It had been an exquisite pleasure to introduce her as his, affirming aloud to every acquaintance throughout the evening that she belonged to him.

He gently turned her around and swept aside her long tresses to unfasten her dress. Letting his hands travel the length of her arms, he coaxed the dress off of her, causing Margaret to shiver from the rapturous feel of his touch. He bent to kiss her neck as his fingers moved dexterously to loosen her corset.

Margaret closed her eyes in anticipation of his continued seduction, and gasped as his hands slid slowly over her shoulders and trailed downward to capture the fullness of her soft flesh, cupping and exploring the contours of her feminine form as she sighed in pleasure.

"There are too many layers of a woman's attire," he whispered huskily in her ear, eager to have the whole of her revealed to him.

Unable to speak, she nodded in agreement and reached her hands behind her to aid in undressing herself.

He helped her out of her dress and burdensome crinoline before beginning to remove his own clothing, piece by piece.

They met at last in the bed as he drew her to him, kissing her with deep and longing kisses, marveling that it should be he and he alone that she would allow into the secret chambers of her heart and body.

The lamplight cast shadows over the darkened room and the sheets rustled as they commenced their lovers' dance.


***************************


Early the next afternoon, the Master of Marlborough Mills and his wife took their Sunday promenade through the park, enjoying the simple freedom of wandering the outdoors together. A breeze stirred the grasses as they climbed a hill overlooking the city. Patches of blue appeared behind the gray pall of the sky, and the dirty chimneys cluttering the horizon lay dormant, allowing the air the chance to clear.

"I've been thinking," Margaret began, breaking the silence between them as they walked. "There are so many children here that are not going to school. You have taken an interest in Tommy Boucher's education, have you not?" she inquired about Higgins' young charge.

"I have," he answered with a wily smile, wondering what new venture his wife was concocting.

"Well, there are so many others like him - they all ought to have some schooling. Why should they not have the opportunity to learn? It is not just," she reasoned with compassion.

"Will you single-handedly change the world, Margaret Hale? ...Thornton," he corrected himself, stopping for a moment to lift her chin with his curved finger and tenderly examine her face.

"I cannot stand idly by when there is so much that could be done for those around me. Are we not commanded to love our neighbor?" she asked as they resumed their walk, her arm in his.

"I see that you are your father's daughter," he mused fondly with admiration. "What is it you wish to do?" he inquired, surmising that his wife might be formulating some scheme in which to aid the poor.

Margaret hesitated, uncertain how her husband would receive her ideas. "I thought I might be able to organize some kind of regular education for a few of the children. Perhaps we might find someone to teach them to read and make a school of sorts. I could start it, and maybe take a few hours in the morning to go to Mary's where some students could be assembled. I would still have time to tend to my household duties in the afternoons," she hurried on before looking anxiously to see her husband's reaction.

Mr. Thornton could only smile at her ambitious enthusiasm. "It is a just cause," he answered succinctly. He took a deep breath. "There are many factors to be considered in such an enterprise, however. Will you allow me to think on it?" he asked her expectantly, giving her arm a fond squeeze.

"Of course," she agreed, understanding her husband's rightful need to think carefully of every contingency. She trusted his good judgment and was willing to admit that her impetuous ambitions might benefit from his patient deliberation. She gave his arm a loving squeeze in return and looked up at him admiringly as he gave her another affectionate glance.


*************************


Dinner with Mr. Bell was a very pleasant affair. Margaret listened with rapt attention as the Oxford scholar, Mrs. Thornton, and her husband recalled the past events and circumstances that led Milton to rise to its present state of industrial enterprise. She felt a swelling of pride to think of Mr. Thornton's important place in the grand scheme of things, and took even greater satisfaction to hear more of his untiring efforts to claim his role in leading the city to progress and growth.

As they discussed the possibilities of the future, she entered into the conversation, expressing intelligently her hope that the next stage of development would include sharing the benefits of progress with the whole of society. She reasoned that there could be no permanent improvements in stability and growth until the masses felt their contributions equitably rewarded and were offered a chance to rise according to their own efforts. She concluded that education would be essential if any true progress were to be made in Milton and England at large.

Hannah Thornton stared at her daughter-in-law in wary surprise and was nonplused to see that both men had listened to Margaret's speech with perfect equanimity and consideration.

"I believe our Margaret has a point. Very well reasoned, my dear," Mr. Bell declared with a measure of pride.

Mr. Thornton said nothing but gave his wife a look of admiration.


****************************


"I believe married life suits you, Thornton. You look very content," Mr. Bell remarked with candor after the women had withdrawn from the dining room.

"It would be difficult to be unhappy with Margaret near," he replied honestly in an even tone, the corners of his mouth edging upwards in an irrepressible smile.

"Quite so," Mr. Bell agreed approvingly as he studied the newly married man's face. "And Margaret is looking wonderfully happy," he added thoughtfully.

"Thank you," Mr. Thornton answered quietly with a swell of joy. "It is my highest privilege and greatest pleasure to care for her," he revealed openly.

"Yes, of course, I know it is. She is in very capable hands, I might add. There is no one else I would have entrusted her to," Mr. Bell responded respectfully. "Be that as it may," the wealthy landowner continued, "Sometimes circumstances that are beyond our control beset our earnest endeavors." He paused to assess the look of cautious apprehension that the younger man now wore. "I'm sure you know what I am speaking of," Mr. Bell added.

"I believe I do, but..." Mr. Thornton began.

"Yes, well, I have not yet given you and Margaret a wedding gift, and I would very much like to offer you something that would be useful. I would be pleased to give you £500 to do with as you will," Mr. Bell announced with decision.

Mr. Thornton hesitated uncertainly, his brow furrowed in momentary contemplation. He was torn between the desire to prove himself fully capable of handling his own affairs and the temptation of being able to pay off his debts with such a sum.

His mind quickly rebelled against the notion of bolstering his business with money intended to be a wedding gift. After all, he not yet explored every avenue to revive the mill - he still had hope of recovery. With patience, wisdom, and fortuitous circumstances, he might slowly regain his former position of security.

"I thank you for your concern and great generosity, but I cannot accept such a grand sum as gift. I believe £100 would be generous enough, and we would both be very grateful," he responded with sincerity.

Mr. Bell nodded his head in acknowledgement as he pursed his lips, sympathetic to the younger man's desire to retain a sense of honor by seeking his own fortune amid trying times. He only hoped that Thornton would not let his pride become a stumbling block to maintaining control of the mill. "Shall we rejoin the women, then?" he suggested with vigor, setting their awkward discussion squarely behind them.

Mr. Thornton moved aside the paneled doors that divided the living space and Mr. Bell joined the family in friendly conversation a while longer before thanking his hosts for an enjoyable evening and taking his leave.


******************************


Early one morning the next week, Margaret arrived at the breakfast table to find a gorgeous array of yellow roses in a crystal vase. Smiling at the sight, she picked up a note that was propped against the vase and opened it eagerly to see what her husband had written.

My darling wife,

Did you think I would forget your birthday? No one else could be more grateful than I for your entrance into this world. My life has been transformed by your presence - I wake every morning in joyous wonder to find you by my side.

I hope that your day will pass pleasantly. I am thinking of you (whether or not I should!) and feel a comforting happiness to know you will be waiting for me at day's end.

Will you dress for dinner this evening? I have made special arrangements that I hope will please you.

With all my love,
John

Margaret bent to smell the lovely blossoms, beaming at the thought of her husband's thoughtfulness. She stepped to the wall to pull the cord for her breakfast. She knew it would be a pleasant day.


****************************************


Margaret stared dreamily out the window at the back of her room. She had spent the last hour bathing and dressing with Dixon's help, preparing for the upcoming evening with her husband. She had decided to wear the dark blue gown she had worn the night before her wedding.

It was well after six o'clock when Margaret heard her husband come into his room. Roused from her pleasant daydreams, she stepped eagerly through the dressing room to greet him.

A warm smile lit his face at her entry into the room. He was changing into his silver-gray waistcoat. "You received my note?" he asked in a knowing lilt.

"Yes, I have been waiting all day for you to arrive home. How utterly mysterious of you to leave me in suspense for so long!" she chastised him, a teasing smile spreading over her face.

He approached and gave her a conciliatory kiss. "Anticipation can be enjoyment in its own right," he responded with a sultry glimmer in his eyes.

She gave him a look of feigned reproach for his improper insinuation, and patiently waited for him to tie his gray cravat and don his coat.

When Mr. Thornton escorted her to the dining room, Margaret was confused. The table was set elegantly for two and long tapered candles had been lit, although daylight had only just begun to diminish. She cast her husband a quizzical glance.

"Mother is staying with Fanny for the evening. We shall have the house to ourselves," he explained, studying her hopefully for her reaction.

Surprise changed to glad acceptance as she realized they were not going out after all. Margaret looked to her husband with fond appreciation, her countenance expressing her delight at this unexpected arrangement. "We are dining here?" she asked to confirm his intentions.

"Yes," he answered simply as he took her wrap and helped her to her seat.

A dinner of roast duck and all the trimmings was served - a favorite meal of Margaret's. The couple ate leisurely, talking freely of things that only concerned themselves.

After the dinner plates can been cleared away, Dixon surprised Margaret by presenting the dessert that had always been served on her birthday - a strawberry sponge cake dusted with powdery sugar. Margaret's eyes glistened at the memory of her summers in Helstone and the sad realization that last year she had celebrated her birthday with both of her parents. Her sorrow dissipated, however, as she looked at the beaming face of her husband - this birthday would be very special for it was the first one she had spent with him.

When they had finished eating, the couple removed to the drawing room to read to one another as they had so often done in Helstone. Margaret leaned comfortably against her husband as they situated themselves on the sofa.

When it was Margaret's turn to read, Mr. Thornton bemoaned the fact there was not a sofa long enough for him to fully recline. Borne of his strong impulse to receive the attentions he so fondly remembered, he suggested they could sit on the carpeted floor.

"But the servants, John!" Margaret protested, aware that the house was not entirely vacant and that their activities might be viewed.

"They have been dismissed for the evening," he informed her, his eyes pleading for her to comply with his simple wish.

Margaret could not deny him his pleasure, and settled herself on the carpeted floor with childlike glee, her gown and petticoats rustling as she coaxed them into place and leaned against the sofa. Mr. Thornton laid his head on her lap with a triumphant smile on his face.

Margaret laughed at his stubborn determination to gain her attentions and laughed again at the thought of how shocked his mother would be to find them in such an unrefined arrangement.

Margaret thoroughly enjoyed watching her husband relax as she ran her fingers through his hair and gently caressed his face with her free hand as she read to him. When, at length, her legs began to tingle under his weight, she reluctantly moved them, ousting him from her lap.

Mr. Thornton felt a deep settled calm pervade his entire being. "Thank you," he murmured as he assisted his wife to her feet and gathered her into his arms. "Perhaps Mother should visit Fanny more often," he remarked, wishing they could often be so informal.

"Perhaps we could retire early on occasion and read in bed," she answered ingeniously with a subtle arch of her eyebrows as she slid her arms around his waist.

"That is why I married you. You are more clever than I," he responded in a low voice as he stared at the pink fullness of her lips and brought his face closer to kiss them.

"I don't know about that," she said as she pulled back slightly from him, "you were very clever today - surprising me with flowers and a private dinner," she continued, her eyes dancing with playful delight.

A spark of recognition crossed his face at her words. "I've almost forgotten your present," he informed her before walking over to fetch her lace mantilla. "Come with me," he invited, offering his arm.

She looked at him in surprised confusion but allowed him to lead her outdoors and toward the Mill. "My gift is at the Mill?" she asked in wonderment as they approached the factory door.

"You will just have to wait and see," he responded, relishing the opportunity to draw out her curiosity.

He turned on the lamp on his office desk and almost laughed at her bewildered expression. "I did not have time to bring them to the house," he explained as he indicated a large cloth-covered crate on a table against the wall.

Margaret walked over to the table. "This?" she asked him with wondering eyes.

He nodded, and watched her face carefully as she slowly pulled back the covering.

She cast aside the cloth more quickly as she recognized the items before her. "Books.... readers and blackboards for the children!" she exclaimed with growing excitement as she searched the contents of the container. She whirled around to face her husband who was smiling broadly at her enthusiastic reaction. She threw herself into his arms to thank him. "I had so hoped you would approve!" she confessed, giving him a quick kiss for his support of her intended endeavors.

"I cannot deny you your wish when your purpose is so noble. I believe we can prepare one of the derelict buildings near the canteen to house a school," he told her, enjoying her grateful attentions.

"Truly?" she queried in disbelief. "You are a most wonderful husband!" she announced, giving him another kiss in her excitement.

This time he did not relinquish her lips, but moved to capture her mouth with his and kiss her soundly, drawing her closer as their kisses deepened.

Pulling back at last before he lost his self-control, he reminded himself of their location and the purpose of the evening. "We should return to the house. The evening is yours. We will do as you wish," he told her calmly even as his pulse still hammered and his body ached with desire.

"I believe I can think of a suitable activity," she replied saucily as she smiled and stretched up to kiss him again.


***********************************************


It was the very next day that Watson sent a messenger to Marlborough Mills: speculations in America had ended poorly and word was circulating that local and neighboring businesses would be severely affected, dampening trade and throwing the Exchange into certain turmoil.

Mr. Thornton's face drained of color as he stood motionless in his office, unknowingly dropping the hand that held the written note. In the next moment, he snatched his coat and left to find his banker, determined to know the whole truth.

Mr. Latimer confirmed his fears. The shipping houses in the neighboring port were in financial ruins, sending a rippling of doubt and fear throughout the entire area and greatly affecting business in Milton proper. Credit would be insecure and men who had recently felt themselves safe might see their fortunes tumble.

The beleaguered Master returned to the privacy of his office with a heavy heart and sat absently in his chair in stunned silence. The words and implications of the dreaded news whirled in his consciousness until at last he sank his face into his hands in despair, wondering how he would ever explain this to Margaret.


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