Foolish Passions: A North & South Variation

Chapter 2: Reputations

"Mrs Thornton!" Margaret gasped, stumbling away from the chaise. "I did not hear you come in!"

"I thought as much," she replied curtly. "Come Doctor, he seems to have fainted again." She bustled past Margaret to kneel on the floor by her son's head. Though her expression betrayed very little, there was something in the shine of her eyes that indicated a storm of feeling straining against the check in which she was holding her entire person. Maternal affection and concern, Margaret thought.

"He... Mr Thornton was... awoke just now," she stammered, not sure how much of what had just occurred would be medically relevant. "He spoke very little, and was behaving a little strangely..."

" He was behaving strangely?" shot Mrs Thornton incredulously. She glared at Margaret as though she were some foul thing she had been unfortunate enough to step in.

"What of the injury?" asked the doctor, "was there much blood loss?"

"Somewhat," replied Margaret, grateful for the respite from Mrs Thornton's murderous glower, "the rag was stained, but not completely soaked through. There it is..." she turned away squeamishly to face the window, swallowing thickly, "upon his... his..."

"His lap , Miss Hale, where I assume you dropped it during your... ministrations " Mrs Thornton flashed her a withering look before resuming the gentle stroking of her son's now untidy, black mane.

After inspecting the cloth in question, the doctor lifted one of Thornton's eyelids, and then the other. He tilted his head this was and that. He felt his neck, checked his pulse, and kneaded the back of his head. "You mentioned strange behaviour," he said, turning for the first time to Margaret, "what was it exactly?"

"Well, he seemed, confused..." she began, conscious of how her words might be misconstrued, "he spoke of many things, and all of them at once, as if his thoughts were all tangled together. He seemed cheerful, and then sad, and then..." She paused, considering how much more she should disclose to the doctor. It was not just her own reputation that was at risk from their impropriety; she knew enough of this proud Milton family to surmise that he would be bound to her in honour, should their shocking encounter ever come to light. "...confused again."

"Ah... well that is to be expected." replied the scotsman, gripping the edge of the chaise longue and rising gracelessly to his feet. "Head injuries are unpredictable things. Mrs Thornton," he said, reaching into his leather case and pulling out a small, leatherbound book, "Do you have any laudanum in the house? I'm afraid Mr Thornton is most likely to be in a great deal of pain when he awakes..."

"So he will awaken? You are certain?" ejaculated Margaret, rushing towards him, "He is in no danger?"

Dr Donaldson, taken aback but this sudden display, took a moment to respond before he was interrupted by a decisive rustling of skirts.

"You must forgive us, Miss Hale, for it appears we have trespassed on your time for far too long." The look in her eye was one that would brook no opposition. "My son needs my attention, and no doubt your mother will be wondering where you have gotten to."

Margaret attempted to meet her gaze with as much dignity as she could muster, but found herself completely disarmed by the sheer force of emotion trying to break through the tight mask held over Mrs Thornton's wide, white face. Was that anger? No, that was rage. Hatred, disgust, and something else; something wild and wicked welling up in her eyes.

Mrs Thornton succeeded in staring Margaret down. In truth, the young lady's spirits were in such turmoil that she conceded defeat more readily that she was wont. She made no reply, and with one final, wistful glance at the man lying unconscious on the chaise, she nodded wordlessly to his mother and the doctor, and took her leave.