Chapter 29
Chapter twenty-nine
Dixon shook her head at the sad predicament involving the young miss. As she climbed the stairs, she fretted about how to tell the Missus that her daughter was involved in a scandal.
There was no way to present the facts pleasantly. She only hoped it would not cause the suffering invalid to have a relapse.
“Ah, there you are,” Mrs. Hale said, upon Dixon stepping into the sitting room. The mistress of the house was reclining on the couch with a fair amount of pillows. “Could you bring me that fan over there? It is getting warm,” she said without looking up.
“Mum,” Dixon answered, her voice thick with the weight of the news she brought.
“Dixon, what is it?” Mrs. Hale asked, stricken now by the look of the longtime maid’s somber countenance.
“There’s a bit of gossip rattling all over town. And you’ll need to know it,” Dixon said, coming closer.
“Why? Is it about me? Mr. Hale? Margaret?” when she had reached the answer by Dixon’s voiceless signals, she sank back further into her pillows. “Oh dear, what has happened?”
And so the faithful Dixon told her mistress all that she had heard. Mrs. Hale sat up at the first mention of the riot and exclaimed throughout as the tale was told. She threw her hands up to cover her mouth at the revelation that Margaret had held on to Mr. Thornton in front of hundreds of people.
“Is she hurt? Why didn’t she say so?” Mrs. Hale exclaimed upon finding out her daughter had not only been swept up into danger, she had been injured and had not told a soul.
“I suppose the doctor thought she was recovered well enough. The poor girl likely thought to save you from worry. You know she’s a dear girl, always thinking of others,” Dixon answered.
“Oh, but to know what everyone in town must think of her!” Mrs. Hale replied. She was silent for a moment, staring vacantly as she wove the threads of fate for her daughter in her mind. She reached its conclusion before long.
“Why, Mr. Thornton must make an offer for her. It’s the only way to save her reputation. And I must say I am fond of such a match, although this precipitous situation is not at all how I should have liked it to come about.”
She looked up into Dixon’s face. “I’m surprised Mr. Thornton did not come last evening to make his offer. I’m sure he must also know—”
“He did come last night,” Dixon replied, just now realizing herself the likely reason for his visit.
Margaret shut the front door of her home behind her. She was taking off her bonnet when Dixon appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Your mother wishes to speak to you.”
The tone of this relayed request roused Margaret’s suspicion. Had the rumors spread this far? She climbed the stairs warily.
“Yes, mamma?” Margaret said, stepping into the room. She knew instantly that her mother had heard by the pained look on her pale face.
“My dear, I have heard such things about what happened to you yesterday that I can scarcely believe it,” she stretched out her hand to her daughter, who moved forward to take it. “Is it all true?”
Margaret stared at the floor, her face blooming with shame and guilt. “Yes, mamma.”
“Come, let me look at you. You were hurt. Let me see.”
Her mother’s worried attentions brought tears to Margaret’s eyes. She sat next to her mother and showed her the area near her temple that she had covered.
“You should have told us, my darling. I can’t imagine how frightening it all must have been. And to think you were on an errand for me.”
“I didn’t want to worry you, mamma. Not after you had been so ill.”
“I know it. You have been very good to me. Now there is something we must talk about,” Mrs. Hale said, patting her hand.
Margaret cast her eyes down again, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
“Are you aware of the rumors spreading throughout the town—about what happened between you and Mr. Thornton?”
Margaret nodded, unable to look her mother in the eye.
Mrs. Hale let out a sigh. She looked at Dixon, who nodded to encourage her mistress to go on.
“Dixon says Mr. Thornton was here last night. Did he…it would be only proper that he make an offer of marriage to you after such a scene. Did he make such an offer?” she asked as delicately as she could, her hope rising that all was resolved already.
Mrs. Hale startled as Margaret stood up suddenly and took a few paces away.
“He came…but I…we crossed words again. I spoke too harshly…” Her hands covered her face, her back turned to the onlookers.
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Hale murmured. “Well, perhaps your father can speak to him and make things turn out all right,” she offered with gentle brightness.
“Margaret?” her mother called to her.
Margaret turned towards her mother again. Mrs. Hale was astonished to see that she was crying.
“Oh, my dear, what is it? This is all terribly upsetting, to be sure. Your reputation is at stake, and there is only one way to secure it from all these coarse rumors. I know you have your differences with Mr. Thornton, but he is a very respectable man. You must be willing to accept him. After all, he has been nothing but kind to us, you must agree.”
“Yes, mamma,” Margaret whispered through her tears.
Dinner at the Hales’ home that evening was somber and silent.
Husband and wife shared poignant glances in the candle-lit room as Margaret kept her eyes on the plate in front of her, eating little.
Mrs. Hale had appraised her husband of Margaret’s situation as soon as he had come home from his lecture.
And although he hated very much to be pressed to force any kind of measure upon Mr. Thornton, Mr. Hale promised his wife he would request to speak with him tomorrow.
He would do whatever Maria asked of him—whatever was in his power—to make her days as pleasant as possible.
At the other end of town, Mr. Thornton made his way through the darkening alleys of the Princeton District and rapped on the door of the Higgins’ home.
Nicholas Higgins opened the door a crack and held it there when he saw who it was. “I’ve naught to do with the riot. I’d give yo’ the name of every bastard who did yo’ any damage if I could.”
“I didn’t come about that, but I’ll hear what you have to say. I’ve come to talk to you about a concept I’ve been turning over in my mind. If you’ll let me in,” the Master answered.
Higgins hesitated only a moment before opening the door to let such an unexpected visitor enter his home.
Mr. Thornton swept his hat off his head before entering.
Higgins gestured to the wooden chair at the kitchen table.
“Your daughter. How is she?” Mr. Thornton asked, eyeing the inert form of the girl lying in a bed nearby. He took a seat, laying his hat on the table.
“She’s no better. She sleeps most of the day,” was the solemn answer.
“I’m sorry for your troubles,” Mr. Thornton uttered quietly before getting to his point. “I’ve come to see if the scheme I’ve dreamed up is worth attempting. It’s possible I’ve been wasting my time pondering it, but I thought I’d put it to for your opinion.”
“Why me?” Higgins’ face clouded with suspicion.
“You’re a leader of your kind, are you not? I’m not acquainted with any others.”
“I thought I was a leader, but I reckon it did no good. I couldn’t stop them from turning to violence, although I warned them not to raise trouble. I’d like to see the whole lot of them that ran to your mill be thrown from the Union.”
Higgins’ vehemence roused Bessy from her sleep. “Father, who is it?” she called out groggily from the shadows.
“It’s the Master that’s come before. Come to talk to me a while,” her father answered.
“Oh! Yo’ must tell him about Boucher,” she sat up in her excitement, which brought on a coughing spell.
“Easy now, Bess,” her father said, his chair scraping the floor as he moved to lay a soothing hand on her.
The coughing ceased at last, and she continued her plea. “Miss Margaret says not to send Boucher or the like to jail. His family has suffered enough trouble since he never wanted to be in the Union.”
“Yo’ve said your piece. Now you can lie back down,” Higgins said. “The Master has not come about that affair, so mind yo’ to keep quiet a spell.”
The Union leader sat back down to face the mill master.
“Your Union asked for increased wages,” Mr. Thornton began, “but we could not pay more at this time. Stay... let me finish,” he said as Higgins rose from his seat impatiently. The working man crossed his arms in defiance, but stood still to hear him out.
“If I can’t pay my workers more in wages, that’s the end of it—so I thought. If men need more to feed their families, there’s naught that I can do about it. But as I thought about it a bit more, there might be a way to economize on food if it’s bought wholesale in significant quantities.”
“I don’t understand,” Higgins said, frowning and half wondering if the Master had been hit in the head himself.
“If we built a kitchen and a dining hall at the mill, men might eat a hot meal there at mid-day for a pittance and save some money.”
Higgins was unconvinced. “And how do you benefit from such a scheme? I’m not a chap to believe yo’ve suddenly changed to give your worldly goods to the poor.”
“The kitchen or dining hall—whatever we call it—would not run as a charity. It would be self-operating, with no profit. The purchase of food comes from the workers who pay to eat. My benefit is that my workers will be healthier—they’d be better workers for me.”
Higgins sat down again. “Where would this kitchen be? And who will cook it, or set about buying goods?”
“There’s a storage building in the back that is often unused. We’d hire a cook. And I’ll need someone to manage the operation.”
“Who will do all this?”
“You will,” Mr. Thornton answered, a smile creeping over his face at the other man’s surprise.
“But I’m a weaver, not some kitchen wench.”
“You’re a man who can calculate figures and talk to people. You have connections.”
“Take it, father!” Bessy called out.
Higgins startled at her outburst, forgetting she was there.
There was silence for a few moments as the Union leader considered his pride in taking work from the man who had hired knobsticks. “I’ll take work from yo’, to care for my Bess, but I’ll not swear off the Union as it’s said Hamper is making men do.”
“I’ll not ask men to make empty promises. But I will expect you’ll make no trouble for me at my mill. I’ll be honest with you and expect you to be the same with me. Or out you go.”
Mr. Thornton held out his hand, and with only a moment’s hesitation, Higgins clasped it.