Speculation

Speculation - Chapter 6

Chapter 6

This chapter picks up where the last left off. John Thornton has been informed about Watson, and Williams was sent to see to the children.... Thornton himself, sees to Watson...

For those wondering, is Margaret really in this chapter...yes she is.

This chapter is in two parts, starting first with John Thornton. The second half Margaret, I hope all will enjoy...

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The scene that was unfolding before Mr. Williams eyes appalled him. A young girl no older than eight with blond hair the color of corn silk was sobbing in her mothers arms as the young woman's desperate pleas that her child was hungry and needed food fell upon deaf ears. Mr. Watson's words were harsh.
"That is enough! The child is is behind with her work, she will not be allowed to eat till it's finished. Now, get back to work, both of you!" He reached for the sobbing young girl, attempting to wrest her from her mother's embrace, but the mother's protests grew louder. "No, No she is weak she needs food, please No!"

Williams could take no more and stepped up to interrupt Watson. "What is going on here Mr. Watson?"

Releasing his hold on the girl, he turned to face Williams,angrily replying "The child claims its hungry but its just lazy and doesn't want to work!"

"That's not true, she is desperately hungry," the young mother pleaded.

Williams looked at the young woman who appeared to be no older than five and twenty, then shifted his gaze upon Watson. "Why is this child not on break? I happen to know the line this child works on, and all the worker are on break! Why is she not with them?!"

Watson's reply was cold. "Children need to be punished just like the rest! If they get behind on their quota, they work through lunch to make it up. It will teach them to work harder if they want food!" Turning back to mother and child he barked, "What did I tell you?!?! GO! Get back to work, NOW!"

Upon hearing this demand, Williams' steel gray eyes narrowed, and his voice became sharp as he uttered a single "NO!" Turning, he look upon the mother who was gaunt, with hallowed cheeks and dull brown hair. She looked like she hadn't eaten in a month of days. He calmly said "Go, take the child and get her..."

Watson broke in, his words fierce "YOU have no right...!"

Williams reply was just as fierce. "I have every right Mr. Watson! I have orders from Mr. Thornton to see that these children are all fed, this young girl included!"

The young woman stood in silence, the little girl still sobbing in her arms as Williams turned to face her. His words were kind yet firm. "Go see that your daughter is feed, and get a good meal yourself." The woman didn't wait another second, but quickly gathered her daughter and left for the dinning hall.

With lighting speed, Watson spun upon the other man, grabbing his left arm in a tight grip. "How dare you challenge my authority in front of the workers? Mr. Thornton's orders indeed!" His words dripped with scorn.

Quivering with rage, Williams replied, "Let go of my arm Watson, I have an order to carry out and I will see that it is done. These children are in desperate need of food and I will make sure..."

His speech was cut short by the thundering sound of the Masters voice, which cut sharper than a sword through the din of the running machinery.

"WATSON!"

In an instant, both men's eyes riveted to the commanding presents of Mr. Thornton as he strode towards them. As he neared, Watson's breath caught in his throat and he released his grasp of the other mans arm. The look in Mr. Thornton's eyes was one he had seen once before; the memory of that look was forever burned upon his mind and the sight of that same gaze made his blood run cold.

Coming to stand in front of both men, Thornton's ice blue eyes never left Watson's as he addressed Williams, "Go take the children."

"Yes sir," Williams replied quickly as he made quick hast of gathering up the children and herding them to the dining hall.

Never removing his eyes from Watson, the Master spoke again "I will see you in my office, now!" He turned quickly and strode back the way he had come, leaving Watson scurrying in his wake, trying his best to keep up with Thornton's long strides.

In the office, Thornton stood at the window looking out into the mill yard. His jaw clenched as he heard Watson enter his office. For several minutes, he continued to gaze out into the mill yard but he wasn't aware of the bustle of activity going on outside; rather, his thoughts were on Fanny, a youthful promise he made some 17 years ago, and the words he would have to say today.

Watson's heart pounded within his chest as he stood waiting for Mr. Thornton's stern rebuke, yet he could endure the tortured silence no longer and finally spoke."Mr. Thornton, sir ,you wanted to speak to me?"

Thornton waited a moment, making Watson suffer to the last, then slowly turned, locking his gaze upon the other man. When he finally spoke, his voice was measured and low, like ice glazed over a winter pond, obscuring what is happening beneath the surface.

"You have some nerve, Watson!You seem to forget that you work for Marlborough Mills now. How you chose to run your own mill was your concern, but I will not tolerate the conduct I witnessed today, and I will not stand for any needless abuse of any of my workers, especially the children. Is that understood?!"

Shifting uncomfortably under those stern blue eyes, he started to reply "Yes, Mr. Thor..."

"I'm not finished! Do you have any idea how close I am to throwing you out of my mill?"

"But you can't do that, think of Fanny!" Watson hastily replied.

Anger slowly mounted within Thornton. "I am thinking of Fanny! You have her thank that I do not act upon my desire to throw you out of here this moment! Since taking you on, you have been nothing but disrespectful, impudent, and cruel but that will stop NOW! Starting today, you are no longer foreman in my mill. You will spend the next two months working in the kitchen. The matron will put you to good use, and we'll go from there!"

Watson's discomfort quickly turned to anger "You can't do that to me!!! I am a gentleman and you expect me to do the work assigned to common rabble??? What's next?! Will have me work one of the weaving looms alongside that man Higgins? Well, I will tell you right now I won't do it!How am I to get by on such meager wages, and what of your sister? We have a child on the way, as you know! You can't do this to her!!!"

Watson was precariously close to breaking through the thin layer of ice that was holding Thornton's temper in control.

"Don't you dare!You should have thought of all that to begin with," snapped Mr. Thornton. A look of utter disdain rested upon his face and was evident in his voice as he continued, "The men who work in my mill are far more like gentlemen than you will ever be. Fanny is your wife and, as you so pointedly brought to my attention, you have a child on the way. They are your responsibility, not mine! I have given you far too many chances, and this is your last! Its only out of consideration for my sister and her unborn child that I offer you anything at all. You can either accept my terms or you can leave Marlborough Mills. The choice is yours."

His eyes pierced through Watson as if cutting through to his very soul, while his frigid voice caused all of Watson''s rage to bleed away. All color drained from his face at Thornton's next words.

"Know this, if you walk out that door right now, I will not take your back and you will be hard pressed to find any one in Milton who will take you on and give you work, I will make sure of that! And if you dare think that because of Fanny I won't follow through with my words, you are sadly mistaken!"

Watson stood as one unable to speak for he had no doubt in his mind that Thornton would carry out his word. When he finally found the words to reply, he spoke in a low subdued tone despite Thornton's penetrating gaze. " I...I accept your terms Mr. Thornton sir."

Thornton's reply was curt. "Report to the dinning hall first thing in the morning. The Matron will give you your assignment. And if I hear a single complaint against you that I discover is true, you will never step foot in Marlborough Mills again! Now go, you have wasted enough of my time already!"

"Yes Mr. Thornton, sir. " came the somber reply.

Standing with his arms folded across his chest, he watched as Watson quietly left his office. Turning away in disgust, he took a couple of steps and extended his long arms above him, leaning into the nearby wall to bow his head. Never had he felt such contempt for a man as he felt for his brother-in-law at this moment. Fanny was weak, a fact she couldn't help, and a bit spoiled, but she deserved better. It galled him that Watson gave no thought to what he had: a wife who loved him and a child on the way. He would have gladly given all he had away and no longer have been Master of Marlborough Mills; he would have taken Watson's place and moved to the dear little Cramton home with all it's simple comforts if it meant that he might come home every day to Margaret.

As he thought of coming home to Margaret, a small smile softened the grave expression on his face. He imagined her moving toward him, her face suffused with her glowing, sunny smile, her eyes filled with love for him. He could almost feel her soft, delicate arms twined about his neck, pulling him close to her as she welcomed him home, as she did each night. His smile widened as he imagined her luminous eyes gazing up at him, holding within their depths complete adoration for just him; John. The thought of such a look filled him with pure joy, knowing that she loved him for himself and his true heart, not caring whether he was Master of Marlborough Mill, or just a humble drapers assistant. She loved him and would make all his clouds disappear.

He then envisioned the family he might have had with Margaret. He could clearly picture a spirited dark haired boy with sparkling blue eyes like his mother's running into his arms. He could almost hear the little voice calling "papa, papa, your home," as he flung himself into John's waiting arms. The boy's squeals of delight would mingle with Margaret's sunny laughter, filling John with complete delight and joy as he spun his son around,and around, with Margaret waiting to throw her arms around both of her men, and all their laughter spilling out into the street. John's smile slowly faded and the grave expression once again took over his features as he realized that such a life with Margaret would never be his. The life he imagined belong to her and another, a man who didn't deserve her! He always knew that he was not worthy of such a woman, yet she would never meet a man with a truer heart than his. He would do and dare anything just to give her all she deserved and so much more.

That thought alone caused a ragged, heavy sigh to escape him and the gleam of an unshed tear to glistened precariously on his dark lashes. Never had he felt so alone as he did on this day. He slammed his hand into the wall as he let out a low almost inhuman growl, and his thought turned back to his worthless brother-in-law. "Damn him" he thought, "The useless man!!! He doesn't even know what he possesses! He has love in his life and is bringing forth a child into the world. His life has a purpose; he has something worth striving for, caring for and protecting! He has a reason to wake up and face each day knowing there is someone who will be there at the end of the day who will always welcome him, love him, cherish him! The man is a complete Fool!" With that last thought, he struck his hand into the wall one last time.

Finally, when his anger had drained away he stood and walked out of his office in desperate need of some air to clear his troubled mind and desperately aching heart. .....

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Margaret awoke the next morning to a room bathed in glorious sunlight. Normally, on a morning such as this she would linger awhile in bed relishing the feel of the warm sun upon her face while contemplating what Mr. Thornton was doing at this very moment. But today was different; her plans had finally taken full shape and form. All that was needed was to consult Henry. Without wasting another moment, she got up quickly and dressed. After finishing her breakfast, Margaret quietly approached Henry who was sitting in the drawing room reading over several of her legal documents.

"Henry, I don't mean to disturb you," she said, "but may I have a word with you about a business matter?"

Setting aside the documents, he smiled up at her. "Why certainly. In what ever way I can be of use to you, I am at your service." He sat as one spellbound, never taking his eyes from her angelic face as he watched her take a chair next to him. She was depending on him, needed him; his hopes gathered strength.

They spent the better part of the morning working out the details of Margaret's plans. When they finished, Margaret asked Henry if he would accompany her to Milton. Henry, in truth felt that what she put forth was a sound business proposal, yet he couldn't help wondering why she was doing this. Why was she so intent on helping Mr. Thornton, a plain manufacturer without a shred of refinement? However, he remained silent and agreed to her plans.

Mere hours later, Margaret found her self once more on a train rumbling its way towards Milton. But how different were her feelings this time! By now, they were half way towards their destination. Henry sat occupied with his paper, while Dixon quietly applied herself to some needlework, leaving Margaret to read the book that lay open in her lap. She sat for some time looking down at the pages in front of her, but did not comprehend the words. Her thoughts were turned towards Mr. Thornton, with a mixture of conflicting emotions. One moment, she was jubilant that he would accept her proposal, and the next anxious that he might reject her offer because of their past differences. His rejection of her offer was her biggest fear; she wanted so desperately to explain everything to him and to tell him how wrong she was to have judged him so severely.

She had finally learned far to late what he had tried to explain to her so long ago at his mother's dinner, about what the definition of a true gentleman was. He had equated a gentleman with being a "true man". He had asserted that a mans character, who he was as in individual was the mark of true nobility. She remembered how he had compared St. Paul, prisoner on the Isle of Patmos, as a "true man" with his endurance, strength and faith; the word 'gentleman' he held in little esteem for it was often used for one's relations to another and involved birth, title, and rank. To Mr. Thornton, what held greater weight was ones strength of character, honesty, uprightness, and ability to work hard.

Margaret understood now that it was these very qualities that drew her to Mr. Thornton. In every essence of the word, he truly was a gentleman: a man that was noble,upright, and possessed manly strength. Upon hearing how he took on the responsibilities of a grown man at such a young age, providing for and protecting his mother and sister, Margaret had thought that was truly noble. Not only did he take care of his family, he worked hard to pay off his father's debts and in so doing worked his way up to become Master of Marlborough Mills. His story resonated with Margaret, and innately from the moment she heard this tale, she knew he was a man who would battle every adverse circumstance in order to protect those he held dear to his heart. This steadfast determination was what she first loved most about Mr. Thornton; her heart had recognized this long before her stubborn mind had. In her heart, she knew that he was everything she desired. He was like no other man she had ever known.

The train started slowing, jerking a bit as the breaks squealed in protest. She glanced over at Dixon who seemed unfazed, intent on her needlework. She then drew her gaze upon Henry; he, too, seemed unaffected by the noise and movement.

Margaret allowed her gaze to linger on Henry. The paper he held up masking his face, allowing her to study him unobserved. He truly was a good man who would make a fine husband to some fortunate woman, she thought. He was a gentleman who held an honorable position as an accomplished lawyer; yet as she sat studying him with all his admirable qualities, she became more convinced than ever that Mr. Thornton was by far so much more of a man. While Margaret continued to ponder their differences, her thoughts slowly turned onto another path. She acknowledged that Henry was rather handsome, with his slight, elegant frame, dark hair, and meticulously precise voice that always conveyed his thoughts succinctly. Fredrick was also handsome in that same slight elegant way; for years, Margaret had idolized her dear brother, thinking him her ideal man until now. Another now held that distinction.

A small smile played upon the corners of her mouth. She lower her eyes onto the open pages of her book as she thought of Mr. Thornton. He was indeed handsome in quite a different way, dressed always in his stark black coat and cravat which, in her eyes, enhanced his tall commanding presence and stately figure in a way that emanated confidence and strength. Her smile widened as she recalled the evening he came to Crampton for tea. He had such a strong masculine air about him that evening that made her heart beat quicken when she first looked upon him attired in such a fashion. It was quite obvious to her that he had taken great consideration in his dress. Instead of wearing his customary black vest and cravat, he wore a striped vest that held varying shades of silken gray, ranging from charcoal to silver, and had a burgundy cravat tied about his throat that set off his dark features in a noticeably fine way, enhancing his predominant jaw line in a manner that she found rather attractive. However, it was his eyes that truly caught her attention - those deep set, penetrating blue eyes that even now, in her waking dreams, had the power to weaken her. How often she had to struggle under Mr. Thornton's intense gaze, willing herself not to let her eyes waver and drop under the scrutiny of his azure eyes as he appeared to see into her very soul.

Heat crept up into her face, staining her cheeks, as she allowed her thoughts to linger on Mr. Thornton's compelling eyes. She found them fascinating to behold and marveled at their changeableness: one moment as dark as a raging storm, holding withing their debts the resolved look of a man ready to do and dare anything in order to achieve his ultimate purpose. The next moment, they shone out like a ray of sunlight breaking brilliantly through the storm-ridden gloom, changing his whole look from one that was stern and severe to one of the keen, pure enjoyment of the moment.

Margaret truly loved John's rare, bright smile, the way absolute pure joy shone out of his eyes eyes, softening his expression and giving him a look of boyish charm that she found simultaneously endearing and alluring. The expression in his eyes made her long to gently caress his cheek ,letting her fingers delicately brush back the soft dark locks of hair resting at his temple. In the next instant, she thought of when her arms had twined round his neck, her fingers slightly entwined in his soft hair as she tried desperately to shield him from the riotous crowd. This memory came upon her so swiftly that shivers ran through her, eliciting a gasp so that she quickly turned to look out the cabin window.

Roused by the sudden noise, Dixon looked up from her work and exclaimed, "Did you say something Miss Margaret?"

Margaret tried to reply as steadily as her voice would allow, never turning her gaze from the window. "No, no I didn't"

The older women peered at Margaret, inquiring further, "Are you alright? You don't sound like..."

"I'm fine Dixon, something just caught my eye." She lowered her head and turned just a fraction in Dixon's direction, keeping her face hidden. "Really I a fine. I am sorry to have disturbed you."

Dixon wasn't quite satisfied, but felt it best to keep silent and return to her work.

Margret's already flushed cheeks now burned crimson, for she was unable to erase the memory of how Mr. Thornton had folded his arms around her on the day of the riot, drawing her close to his rugged, masculine frame. His taught muscles had quivered with rage as the small stone grazed her temple, causing her to lie as one dead in his arms. For a moment before she lost all consciences, she felt his strong arms tighten further around her waist, pulling her even closer into his protective hold, and she felt his heart pounding like thunder. As her head rested limply against his chest, Margaret was left with the sensation of complete warmth and absolute security the likes of which she had never experiences before, held in the shelter of his impregnable embrace.

She had to stifled a sigh for she so longed - no, ached - to place her arms around him once more and rest her head against him; she yearned to feel his arms around her, to feel his protective warmth. Most of all, she hungered to finally tell him that she loved him, had loved him since the day of the riot and would always love him. She often dreamed of doing so,for it was during the night her fears of loneliness would overwhelm her, leaving her frightened because she knew she would forever be alone in the world; while she had her beloved cousin and dear Aunt Shaw who loved her and gave her a home,it just wasn't the same.

The train had once again gathered speed as Margaret continued to stare out the window, the lush landscape speeding by unnoticed. She had allowed her imagination to take flight as she envisioned Mr. Thornton waiting for her at Outwood station. She would step off the train onto the platform and immediately spot him at the same time he noticed her. A brilliant, sunny smile would break forth upon his face, shinning out in his eyes like she had never seen before. He would quickly step forward in an effort to bridge the gap between them, and Margaret would run towards him, throwing her arms completely around his neck. She would nestle her head against his rugged shoulder as his arms encircled her and drew her close to him. He would hold her tight, protectively, as he had done once before; and she would tighten her hold on him, clinging to him possessively so that he would know she never wanted him to let her go. As they stood, locked in each other's embrace, she would softly murmur, "I've come home. I've come home to you!"

Henry straightened his paper with a snap, pulling Margaret from her idle imaginings. Why was she thinking such foolish fancies? She knew not to hope for a return of his love; all she was doing was going to Milton to offer him a business proposal - nothing more. His love was forever lost because of her foolish pride and to hope he might perhaps still love her was just a dream, a silly dream nothing more. He was by now probably engaged to Ann Latimer, a woman who didn't deserve him and would never appreciate his depth of character and strength. Miss Latimer would never understand Mr. Thornton the way Margaret had come to truly know and love him. That realization pained her the most; she wold always love him regardless, but to know he would hold another made her loneliness that much more acute.

Tears stared to well in her eyes, but she was determined not to cry, not here, not in front of Henry and Dixon. But try as she might, a single tear slipped down her cheek. Margaret let out a heart-wrenching sigh. "Come little heart' she thought to her self, "be cherry and brave, we shall be a great deal to each other now that we are left desolate and alone. At least we can help Mr. Thornton; he is fine and noble, yes little heart. I think this is a good thing to do, yes, to help him?"

Roused from her work by the sound of what she thought was a shuddered sob, Dixon looked at Margaret and she became concerned when she saw that the young woman was trembling. Reaching out, she gently placed her hand on Margaret's shoulder, quietly asking, "Miss Margaret are you alright?" She felt Margaret's muscles tense with her touch.

"I am alright Dixon, truly, I'm fine." Margaret replied with out turning her head from the window. "I was just thinking of some..." she caught herself just in time, her voice a bit shaky "I was just thinking of Milton, that's all."

Dixon was rather agitated as she replied "Oh, I knew this was a mistake, this trip to Milton. The place holds nothing but sorrow, its just too much for you to bear. I wish you would have stayed at home. It would have been better for you to let Mr. Lennox take care of matters and spare you all this suffering and pain!"

"No, I had to come!" came her quick reply as Margaret turned to face Dixon.

The older woman was rendered almost speechless at the sight of Margaret. Her cheeks still held their scarlet color but her blue eyes burned with a almost feverish intensity, convincing Dixon that Margaret was indeed quite unwell. "Oh, dear Miss Margaret ,your face is flushed!" She reached out to place her hand against the young woman's cheek. " Your so warm, you are almost burning up. I insist that the minute we get settled in Milton, you lie down and rest. You need not leave the hotel; Mr. Lennox can take care of things. Then we can come straight back home to London where you belong."

By this point, Henry had set his paper aside, aroused by the conversation taking place. While he could only see Margaret's profile, he couldn't help but note the flushed coloring in her cheeks and became concerned as well. "I feel that Dixon is right, Margaret, you are looking a bit unwell. I feel this trip has been too hard for you. I think it best that you rest when we get settled in and regain your strength. There is no need for you to go see Mr. Thornton. I will go talk to him, then we can come straight back home to London."

Margaret quickly turned to face Henry; some of her natural coloring had returned, but the feverish intensity still burned in her eyes "No, I can't return to London that soon Henry." Margaret hastily replied, then gathering control she serenely added, " I am quite well, really, I am. The cabin is warm, that's all. I am sure once I am out in the open air I will feel more like myself. I must see...I have to see my friends, they would be hurt to know I was in Milton and didn't inquire about them."

A flicker of irritation crossed Henry's face. He knew it was useless to argue with Margaret; she had a mind of her own, but he sensed that there was something else she wasn't saying. "Very well, Margaret, if you insist on visiting your friends, I will be happy to accompany you. But I do insist that you get some rest. I will go speak to Mr. Thornton myself tomorrow."

"Henry," she said, her voice taking on a firm tone, "Thank you for your offer to accompany me in visiting my friends. That is very kind. This evening, I plan to take the needed rest you both suggested." She turned and nodded at Dixon before continuing, "But I must insist on accompanying you tomorrow when we offer my proposal to Mr. Thornton."

Henry could do nothing but concede, "Very well Margaret, if that is what you wish."

Her eyes had lost some of their intensity, but still shone brilliantly as she smiled and thanked him.
"Yes, Henry, it is what I wish," she replied, reaching out and placing her delicate hand over his giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiled back at her. He loved her sweet beauty. Although she was at times a bit too willful, he still loved the sweep of her mind which he felt could be led to embrace all the objects that he set his heart upon. Soon, very soon, he thought , he would offer for her hand once again. He was sure she would accept, yet in the back of his mind something still troubled him. Why was she so adamant about seeing Mr. Thornton?

While Henry sat pondering about Mr. Thornton, Margaret reached out towards Dixon and clasped her hand in her own, quietly reassuring her dear mothers friend and companion that she was indeed well and that she should have nothing to fear. While not quite reassured, Dixon pulled Margaret into a warm embrace and held her close, murmuring words of comfort until she felt her young mistress relax and drift off to sleep

Margaret was soon roused from sleep by the sound of squealing brakes as the train pulled into Outwood station. She sat up while taking in the bustle of activity outside. Softly she whispered to herself "I'm home"

When it came time to exit the compartment, Margaret in her usual stately manner stepped out onto the platform, but couldn't help casting her gaze over the crowd in the desperate hopes that perhaps he might be out there, waiting for her........

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