Chapter Text
The house in Crampton Crescent was busy. Dixon had Mr Hale’s jackets and trousers folded in a pile, and was methodically checking each garment, brushing them and dealing with any grease spots. Not that there were many, but the standard of attention to his garments had fallen off somewhat, and now that he was to to stay in Oxford for a few weeks, all his clothes need be in the best possible order.
Margaret had just finished putting his shirts in to soak – they would be washed tomorrow, dried and then ironed. Her laundrymaid duties over, she was thinking what needed doing next, when there was a ring at the door. Rather than disturb Dixon (it was Martha’s day off), she ran up herself.
There stood Mr Thornton.
He looked somewhat quizzically at her apron and rolled up sleeves, which she was hastily pulling into place, but quickly recomposed his features and bowed. “Miss Hale.”
“Mr Thornton, please come in. I did not expect you quite so early.” She took his hat and placed it on the table, hung his coat, and led the way to the parlour. “May I offer you tea? Or coffee? It would be no trouble.”
“No, thank you, Miss Hale. I hope you are well?” At her nod, he continued, “I have come,” he hesitated, “to continue the discussion of two days ago. I hope that I may do so. Would we disturb your father if we were to speak confidentially?”
“Of course. I believe that we might need to converse further to clear matters up. My father is out. He is making some purchases prior to his visit to Oxford.” Margaret removed her apron, and sat, she could do nothing about being in her shabbiest gown. And, after all, it could hardly matter now.
Mr Thornton sat opposite. He removed two brown paper parcels from his pocket. “Fanny sent you this. She sends her best wishes, and I believe there is a note.”
Margaret undid the paper. There was a beautifully bound volume, “Oh! Miss Thornton is too kind, The Tales of the Alhambra – she has mentioned before that it is her favourite book.” Margaret opened the folded paper, which was rather daintily scented:
Miss Hale
Please accept this as a token of my heartfelt gratitude. I know this is an inadequate expression, but I wanted to give you something immediate
I think you will enjoy this volume – if your pleasure and interest is half as much as mine, it will be great indeed.
I very much hope that John will not be too severe. I have spoken to him at length and told him he is not to be.
Your friend,
Fanny Thornton
Margaret was touched – this was more than a formality, the gift appeared heartfelt.
She looked up.
“And, Miss Hale”, Mr Thornton looked at the parcel still in his hands, “I have brought you a token, only a token, of my own thanks. I am aware that I, that the Thornton family, owes you a debt that cannot easily be repaid.” He handed it to her.
Margaret undid the twine and paper, and there was the most elegant box of chocolates she had ever received. It was like something Edith might have been given by Captain Lennox during their courtship. The box itself was decorated with pictures of flowers, and when the brown paper fell away the most delicious smell of cocoa and cream wafted up to her. “Oh, Mr Thornton, this is – it is kind of you to have taken the trouble, but, you know, we do not know if we have come to the end of this affair and I know you may not feel happy with all of my actions, as you indicated. But thank you.”
He cleared his throat. “Miss Hale, I fear that I must apologise for my manner the other day. You acted in order to protect my sister, for which I cannot thank you enough, or apologise enough that I, her brother, had been blind to the need for protection and left it to you. I think now, that should Mr Burton take any further steps, which I doubt, Fanny will come to me, and I will know how to deal with him. Fanny has persuaded me to do nothing in the meanwhile. And, what you have done, has been done at great possible disadvantage to yourself, your reputation. Miss Hale, a box of chocolates cannot be more than the smallest fragment of an apology.”
Margaret could not look up into his face and kept her eyes fixed on the box in her hands. “Mr Thornton, I have reason to think that Mr Burton will not trouble your sister again. And – the greatest token you could give me is to tell me that I stand clear in your eyes of impropriety. I wish to speak of the other matters that have been between us.” She took a moment to gather her courage, “The – the incident at Outwood, and my lie – no!” for he had moved as if to speak and perhaps contradict her, and now she looked up into his face – “my lie and my being seen with a young man must – indeed did, for you said as much – make you doubt my, my morality. But, now, I wish to tell you all, so that you can judge fairly it would be only doing myself justice to have all this explained – I should not like to lose your respect, although I fear that it is perhaps too late.” Again he moved as if to speak, but she held up her hand to halt any words.
“Mr Thornton, that man was my brother.”
“Your brother – yes – I learned it only yesterday.”
“Yesterday! You know!”
“Yes, Miss Hale, from a friend of yours who is become a friend of mine – Nicholas Higgins. It was Higgins who told me of the meeting in the park – for his daughter confided in him. He was sure that you were not acting lightly, but was concerned that you might be in some trouble or danger. That is why he told me.”
“Oh!”
“And – yesterday he came to see if I had spoken to you, and when I said that I had and it concerned another young woman but wished to say no more, he let slip that your brother had been over at the time of your mother’s demise. He would say nothing further. He is a true friend to you.”
“Yes, dear Nicholas. I did not know he knew about Frederick! And, as for my brother, we never spoke of him to you. He – he could not be known to be in England, as he has a crime against his name – I believe unjustly, but it seems that it is unlikely he could ever be cleared. As a magistrate, it would put you in a difficult position to know even this, so I will not detail more. But, Mr Thornton, imagine the feelings of my mother, who had not seen Frederick for years, and, knowing she was dying and might never see him again….” Here she broke off, taking several breaths to steady herself. Mr Thornton bent forward and silently offered his handkerchief, which she clutched in her hand, for indeed no tears fell, though she could feel them, hot and heavy, pressing behind her eyes.
“I wrote to him; he came. He was here for a few short days. My mother saw him and I believe it was a great relief to her, and to him.” Now the tears were sliding freely down her cheeks and she made use of the handkerchief to wipe them away, although she need do it continually as she could not stem them.
“I think you called and were refused when he was here. And, of course you saw us at Outwood, when I went to see him onto the train. That man, Leonards, knew him – he wanted the reward that is posted for Fred – and sought to grasp him. Fred but pushed him away and he fell. Oh, Mr Thornton, it was so unfortunate. And I was so afraid for my brother.” She stopped to breathe again. “And I lied. But now that you know how I was tempted… I hope you will understand my motivation.”
There was a silence, and Margaret clutched the handkerchief, which was now quite sodden.
“And – did he get away safe? I should say that I do not ask as a magistrate.”
“Yes, I long ago heard that he was again in Spain – for that is where he lives now. And my cousin’s brother-in-law looked into his case, but it is not likely he could be cleared. So, Fred has renounced his country and will never return.” At this, a fresh welling of tears began, and she mopped her face again with the handkerchief.
“Miss Hale! I can only express my mortification at having doubted you, your propriety – of course, I understand that you would act so for your brother. Indeed, having just lately had to think what I might need to do for my sister – although there again it was you who acted in Fanny’s interest. I cannot express enough my shame at what I said to you and what I imputed as to your conduct….”
“Mr Thornton, you cannot know how deeply, deeply I have repented of the lie. I should not have told it, but, it was what I thought was right at the time. And it has grieved me so, to be in such poor standing in your eyes.” And now she began sobbing freely and put her face into her hands to hide her mortification.
She felt his movement across the room, until he was kneeling at her side. One of her wrists was gently enclosed in his large, warm hand. “Miss Hale, please, you cannot imagine the shame I feel – how I so misjudged you and castigated you. When you were acting out of love and duty for your family. And now you have done so much for Fanny. Please, do not cry.” And he gently tugged at her wrist. She let her hands leave her face (and she surely now looked red and dishevelled) and dared look at him.
He was gazing at her with such a tender look, his whole face softened. “Margaret – ” and as she tried half-heartedly to pull her hand away from his, he repeated; “Margaret – you must know that I have also told a lie. I repented of it, but it was a lie told to try and protect my wounded heart. Can you imagine what it was?”
She shook her head – more because she knew she would be unable to speak, though she half guessed – or hoped – what he would say.
“Margaret,” her name was a like a prayer in his mouth, “I said my love for you was over. But – it has never diminished. If I must go, and never speak of it again, send me away at once.”
She could not answer, but she shyly freed her wrist and laid her hand on his shoulder. He slid his arm around her and clasped her close.
“Mr Thornton – I – oh…”
“Would you have a great, rough fellow such as me, someone who was all but ready to shout at you the other day? Thinking I should not allow my sister to be your friend?” But he continued to hold her close, so perhaps he was not as unsure as his words might make him sound.
She turned her face to his, and hesitantly and solemnly at first, they exchanged tentative kisses, but these soon deepened in fervour. After some time, Mr Thornton pulled away. “Your father? When is he expected? For I have a question I must ask him.”
“He will be home any time!” she looked at the clock, “and what is that question, sir?”
“I think I should seek his permission to ask you to marry me; would you consider it if he consents?”
“Yes, I would,” was all she could say, quietly. But he heard the words as clearly as any he had in his life, and clasped her close again, capturing one of her hands and pressing his lips into her palm. But the thought of her father’s return was now in her mind and she pulled away and stood. “John,” and she hesitated on the name, uttered for the first time, “John, I think you must get up now. And I hope papa will be here soon.”
He rose to his feet. She voiced the thought that had just come to her. “I think papa will be pleased, but – oh, what will your mother say?”
He smiled. “Mother will want my happiness. And – Margaret – you are my happiness.”
But her mind had run on – “And your sister! What will she think! And – if we ever tell her that you proposed to me when I was wearing my oldest gown – she will never forgive me!”
“Then we will not tell her. But – I think I hear your father returning?” So Margaret went out to greet her father, and tell him that Mr Thornton wished to speak to him, then she ran upstairs to change into another dress. No matter whether Miss Thornton ever knew of it, she thought it would be as well to try and look the part of Mr Thornton’s affianced (for she felt sure that her father would not refuse).
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Indeed, once he understood that his pupil-turned-friend wished to marry his daughter and that she reciprocated that desire – despite what he had said in reply to Mr Bell when that gentleman had suggested that there was a tender feeling between the two – Mr Hale was delighted to give his consent. When Margaret had returned to the parlour and the congratulations were over, they came to the agreement that the pair would consider themselves engaged, but that it would not be officially announced until the period of mourning for Mrs Hale was finished. This would give all parties time to accustom themselves to the forthcoming changes and preserve a maximum of decorum. It was unspoken, but certainly Margaret herself could feel most keenly the desirability of quelling any further suggestion of impropriety.
Xxxx
It may be supposed that when Mr Thornton returned to Marlborough House that evening and spoke to his mother, that she was taken aback. One immediate thought was a consciousness that perhaps she had not discharged the spirit of the dying request she had received from Maria Hale, to be a friend to her daughter, but at the time she had been indignant at the reticence Miss Hale had shown in regard to the rumours that she had been seen with a man. Thornton took care to explain clearly to his mother about Frederick Hale, giving due emphasis to the family loyalty Miss Hale had shown, and her strength in the face of opprobrium. It is to be hoped that Mrs Thornton remembered a previous reflection of hers about Miss Hale – that if she had been a Milton Lass, she would have positively liked her. For she was pungent, and had taste, and spirit, and flavour in her. It was the case that his mother received the news with greater calm than Mr Thornton had feared.
He also mentioned that Miss Hale had been a good friend to Fanny in a way he did not specify. He knew that he needed to speak further to his mother about how they should be treating Fanny – but he thought this was a subject for another occasion.
He then went to find his sister in her music room, and told her of the engagement. Her reaction was one of delight. Her brother felt it was fortunate that she was able to express all of this to him alone in the first instance. It was after her initial exclamations were passed that she joined him in returning to the dining room where their mother sat. The discussion between the three of them was all the easier for both women having had a chance to let the idea settle in their minds for a bit.
However, you may judge their feelings for yourself by the notes that went together the following morning to Crampton Crescent.
Dear Miss Hale,
John has told me of his engagement to you. I offer you my sincere congratulations.
I will call this afternoon, if that is convenient. I would hope to have the opportunity to speak to your father, but if he is engaged with a pupil, I would understand.
I hope that both of you are free to dine with us on Thursday – seven o’clock. It will be a pleasure to welcome you to Marlborough House. John informs me that, quite naturally, the engagement will be kept within the family during the period of your mourning, but I am sure we will wish to begin to think of all the practicalities that need consideration.
Yours affectionately,
Hannah Thornton
While this missive was more cordial than Margaret might have feared, the note from Miss Thornton was everything she might have expected.
Dearest Margaret – for I may call you that, now we are to be sisters, mayn’t I?
I am delighted at news of your engagement, but also surprised – why I had thought John had quite given up hopes – although I did think the day of that awful riot that you might feel tenderly towards him – but, oh my! - to think of how stern and even angry he looked when he came into the parlour the other day – but – oh! Margaret, you cannot imagine how much I look forward to our visit tomorrow – for I am to come with mamma.
I will expect to hear everything and to be able to learn all your wishes for the wedding and your dress, for I wish to help you with it all.
Your loving (future) sister,
Fanny Thornton
You will forgive Miss Thornton for her effusions – it seems that her time with Mrs Hadley had not given her a model of an elegant letter for such an occasion as this, or perhaps she had forgotten it in her honest delight.
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I will not trouble the reader with further particulars of the way in which John Thornton and Margaret Hale conducted their new relationship. They were very sure and very happy with their decision, so it must be imagined that it only deepened their affections for one another as they were able to make up for past misunderstandings and estrangements.
With this example in her own family, Fanny Thornton was able to refine her understanding of the kind of attachment that a young woman could hope to forge with the man she agreed to marry. She realised that the surface flattery she had received from Mr Burton should not be her object and that a deeper compatibility and mutual affection were something to be prized above the gratifications of flirting and praise. She now felt that she could confide more freely in her brother, should she ever need to do so, and indeed that she had a sister to whom she could also speak.
Xxxx
The blue silk gown, purchased in Nottingham, was given to Martha. I believe that she wears it to chapel on fine Sundays. As to whether Joesph Burton has recognised it, I have no intelligence.
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Now, I bring this narrative to a close.
I am aware of reports which date the final understanding reached between Miss Hale and Mr Thornton up to a year after the period stated in my account. You, indeed, may have heard some such tale. However, such re-tellings are conspicuous in their omission of any reference to Miss Thornton’s difficulties. I believe this to be a tribute to the efforts made on her behalf especially by her friend, Miss Hale, and her brother, John Thornton. I would, myself, have not related a word of her story, but that it serves as a fine moral lesson to young ladies, who are apt to be swayed by flattery and professions of affection made by handsome young men, who may then incur overwhelming consequences.
I reassure any anxious readers that I have taken pains to conceal the names of those persons this narration concerns, as well as the places in which this all happened. I would not wish any cloud to mar the horizon of my ‘Miss Fanny Thornton’ – or prejudice her chances of marital bliss, for she has lately accepted one of the men of ‘Milton’ as her affianced husband. (‘Mr Jack Schofield’, as it happens). And it would be churlish of me if my recounting of this tale were to have an adverse effect on ‘Miss Margaret Hale’, who acted in every instance for the good of others. Although, as I have shown, her husband (for she and ‘Mr John Thornton’ are now happily married and provide a model of conjugal devotion to all who know them) did eventually know all and understand all of the incidents which were, at the time, felt to be to the disadvantage of her reputation, it is not kind to promulgate these particulars further.
I am happy to report that, although Miss Hale became an orphan soon after the time of the happenings in this narrative, as her father died quietly and unexpectedly at Oxford, she ultimately benefited from inheriting a goodly amount of property and monies from her godfather, Mr Bell, (she was, by then, Mrs Thornton) who also died within the twelvemonth. This money has meant that Mr Thornton was able to stave off the threat of failure that he faced in his business as a slowly accumulating consequence of the riot the previous year, and the general downturn in trade (for trade is a fickle endeavour). Indeed, I wonder if alternative reports of these events have been circulated partly in envious malice at the good fortune of the Thorntons. For they have not merely prospered in business, but grown in the respect and admiration of their fellow Miltonians, and in the harmonious relations John Thornton has been developing with his workpeople. And, above all, theirs has been, and is, a true love match, as must be clear to all who have had the opportunity of being in their company since the date of the happy event of their union.
I will leave off my Darkshire tale with the hope that improved public recognition of the character of Milton-Northern and its inhabitants will promote better understanding of the worthiness of our industrial areas and a deeper appreciation for the contribution they make to our national life and our international reputation; over and above the quantity of money which they bring onto our shores.