Chapter 26 #2
“We don’t know, but they carried her to the front of the crowd—their dirty hands holding her like a prisoner. Martha says it was to bring the Master out to save her.”
“And he did, didn’t he?” Fanny knew her brother was stupid enough to put himself in danger for another.
“That he did. But you won’t believe what happened next.” Jane looked again to see if Margaret might be waking. “She threw herself into his arms—clung to the Master for all to see!”
“No!” Fanny was incredulous.
“Indeed, and then the police came. That’s when she was knocked to the ground, in all the scrambling to escape.”
“Why, he’ll have to marry her!” Fanny exclaimed, piecing together the outcome of such a scandal. “No doubt she’ll rejoice in that. Any girl in town would. But my brother has never wanted to marry. He’s never been interested in anyone. He’s only interested in his business and his books.”
While they spoke thus, the injured girl stirred, and the two gossipers remembered to administer the smelling salts. Margaret turned her head and groaned. Her eyes fluttered open, but her vision was blurry. Pain emanated from her head. “Where am I?” she said and propped herself up.
“Oh no, Miss Hale!” Fanny said in alarm, gently guiding her to lay back down. “You are hurt. You’re safe now at our house. Mother has gone to get the doctor.” She patted Margaret’s hand.
A vague remembrance of what had happened returned to Margaret’s befogged mind. There’d been piercing whistles, the sickening thud of police batons hitting people, the screams of the fleeing men. But she had been safe a moment before that. She had felt safe in powerful arms.
“Mr. Thornton. Where is he? Is he hurt?” she mumbled as she attempted to sit up again.
“Calm yourself, Miss,” Jane now comforted her. The maid threw a knowing glance at Fanny. “Mr. Thornton was not hurt. He’s taking care of business matters.”
She lay down on the pillow and closed her eyes.
A fuller recognition of all that had taken place slowly dawned on Margaret.
She shuddered to remember the grip of hands holding her against her will, using her to draw Mr. Thornton into danger.
And he had come. And she—oh, she had propelled herself into his arms!
—she who would never make such a public display of herself!
The distress of humiliation sent her sensibilities into disarray.
“I mustn’t stay here,” she said, this time more determined to rise.
“Oh no, no!” Fanny fluttered in a panic before catching sight of her mother, who was returning. “Mother, Miss Hale is trying to leave!”
The stern widow came quickly to the sofa. “Miss Hale, you are in no state to leave just yet. I’ve sent a boy to get the doctor. You must wait and let him examine you.”
“Here he comes now,” Jane announced, because she was looking out the window.
Margaret relented and lay down. Her head was reeling from the effort of sitting up.
“My goodness,” said Dr. Donaldson, as he strode to his patient. “I did not mean to send you off into danger when I sent you to get that water bed.”
“You sent her here?” Mrs. Thornton asked, her brow contracted in confusion.
“In a manner of speaking,” he replied, taking a seat on the chair Jane brought over. He began checking his patient. “I told her she might borrow your water bed—for her mother.”
“My dear, you have taken quite a bump,” he said to Margaret. “But it looks worse than it truly is,” he announced. “Here now, sit up just a little to see how you’re feeling.”
She did so. After determining that she was not nauseous and could see clearly, Dr. Donaldson was satisfied that she would recover well and that she should rest but not sleep for several hours.
Mrs. Thornton was relieved. “There is a spare bedroom upstairs—“
“I cannot stay here,” Margaret repeated, a panic rising in her to get away.
“You must stay and rest as the doctor says,” Mrs. Thornton insisted with a matter-of-fact tone.
Margaret turned to Dr. Donaldson with desperation in her eyes. “You know I cannot stay here. I don’t wish to worry my mother. I believe I can walk home,” she said, standing up to prove it. The doctor steadied her wobbly stance.
“Certainly not,” Mrs. Thornton was adamant.
Dr. Donaldson spoke up. “I can help her get home in a cab. She’s right about her mother. It will do no good to trouble Mrs. Hale in her present state.”
“Very well,” Mrs. Thornton replied with great misgivings, although she was secretly glad to be rid of the girl. She had certainly stirred up great trouble for her son of late.
Margaret breathed deeply once seated in the cab, away from that house—away from all that suffocating reproach. The outside air helped to clear her head, although she wondered if what had happened was not just a horrible dream.
As she rode along, she could not stop thinking of those brief moments when she was pressed so closely against Mr. Thornton’s chest that she could feel his strong heartbeat.
And when he had shouted—she did not know what he had said—the vibration of his voice pulsed through his chest and into her own body. He had smelled of wool and smoke.
His arm had pressed her closer. And she had never felt so safe.