13. A Kind Gesture
Chapter 13
A Kind Gesture
“ E lizabeth!” Margaret cried.
“Margaret!” I cried back.
With it being my last day before I had to begin working, Margaret and I had taken it as my last chance to walk around that area of Milton, to get a better idea of my surroundings. She and I had taken a brief separation because I wanted to enter a butcher’s shop to see how the meat was there. Now that I had taken up a definite situation, I needed to know where the best places to shop were.
Having taken an interest in the mills that were up ahead—one of those mills belonged to the man who had been so very rude to us—Margaret told me that she would meet me outside the shop on the corner.
Very quickly, I left the butcher’s shop. The meat there was abominable. When I did so, I saw that the streets suddenly had become filled with workers who were coming down the street in droves.
“When did this happen?” I gasped, a little overwhelmed by the throng who were about to come my way.
“You clearly are new here, I reckon,” a flower-girl said to me, with her basket full of posies. “At this time of day, the factory people pour out of there, like streams. Be careful to be firm because they can accidentally end up pulling you along with them. Try and stay back against the walls of the shops, or you’ll fall into their path.”
I followed her instruction, until I saw a fleck of purple moving amongst the crowd, against her will.
“Margaret!” I had cried.
“Elizabeth!” she wailed.
Without thinking, I left my safe place and moved through the crowd. It was, quite possibly, one of the grandest physical struggles I had ever endured. Literally, with every step I took, I was being pushed back again. The progress and speed to which these factory workers moved was intensified by their desire to escape the mills. It could be rendered as only natural. After all, I had seen the inside of Marlborough Mills. If I worked there every day, I would probably eagerly await my great escape.
The crowd consisted of men and women. They came rushing along, with bold fearless faces, and loud laughs and jests, particularly aimed at all those who appeared to be above them in rank or station. The tones of their unrestrained voices, and their carelessness of all common rules of street politeness, unnerved me greatly. The women, without fear, were loud, and the men were impertinent.
As I tried to move upstream and Margaret attempted to move downstream, we both were the mirrors of each other, experiencing the same thing. Men looked on us in temptation, commenting on our faces, and the women made comments about us. Some even went so far as to touch our clothing as we tried to pass them. Their faces pressed into my vision with sharp clarification. With no fear, their eyes analyzed my person.
Eventually, Margaret and I met each other and grabbed hands.
“Let’s remove ourselves from this!” Margaret cried.
“Come then!”
Incidentally, someone knocked into us, and we fell out of the throng’s path, and into a narrower part of the street. We had no time to breathe.
Just as we were knocked out of the crowd, we fell into the way of a carriage that had just begun to take off and ride down the street.
Despite our best efforts, Margaret and I were so shocked and alarmed that we felt it hard to move.
The rider pulled the horses’ reins, in an attempt to slow the horses down. However, it was too late. The horses were about to collide into us.
Suddenly, we felt two hands wrap themselves around our waists and pulled us out of the carriage’s way.
The horses had slid right to a halt a little past where Margaret and I stood.
We turned to the hands that had yanked us out of the way. We both looked up into the face of a large man. He had dark brown hair, almost black. His face was round, he wore a brimmed cap, had the same dark gray trousers, shirt, waistcoat, and jacket that the other workers had. His face was clean, however, and he had strong and compassionate eyes.
“My apologies for grabbin’ yer like that,” he uttered. “But it was the only way.”
“Of course,” I rushed out, “you saved us.”
“Yes,” Margaret added, “indelicacy doesn’t matter in this case. We are much obliged to you, sir.”
We were interrupted by the rider of the carriage. Having stopped his horses, he looked down on us, concerned.
“Are you alright!” he cried, desperately. “My apologies, missuses! I didn’t mean for that to have happened.”
“We understand,” I assured him. “We were pushed into your path and there was nothing that could be done.”
Next to me, Margaret opened her purse and was about to pay the man who had saved our lives.
“No charge,” the man said, “I was just doin’ my proper service.”
“But you saved us, Mr…”
“Higgins,” he uttered, “Nicholas Higgins.”
He tipped his hat to us, and he looked at the rider.
“Hullo, Riker,” Mr. Higgins said to the driver.
“Higgins.”
Both men knew each other.
“Whereabouts are you headed?” Higgins asked the man.
“High Street.”
Nicholas Higgins turned to us.
“Are you headed for that area?” he asked.
“Yes,” Margaret said. “I’m staying at the hotel.”
“I can drop you off there,” the driver, Riker, said.
“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” I answered, politely.
“It would be a pleasure, and it will make up for what almost happened.”
“Ah, let him give yer a good turn,” Higgins said. “Sometimes, a man needs to make up for somethin’ that could have gone very wrong.”
“Very well,” I said, “if we are not being an imposition.”
“I’d be much obliged,” Riker said. We turned to Higgins, a little apprehensive.
“Don’ worry,” Higgins said, “yer can trust him. There’s no trick here.”
“Very well,” Margaret said, “we are most obliged to you both.”
Nicholas Higgins offered us his hand and helped us into the carriage. When we got in, we were surprised to see a little girl that was already in there.
“Hullo,” she said. “Are either of you my new governess?”
Margaret and I looked at each other. This man was conveying a little girl somewhere, by herself.
“No, I am afraid not,” I said.
Mr. Higgins closed the door behind us, and Riker drove on. As he did so, we looked out of the window, and we saw that Mr. Nicholas Higgins was watching the carriage drive down the lane.
“Perhaps we may never see him again,” I said.
“Yes, it is not likely,” Margaret said, beside me.
As we drove along, all apprehensions faded. Seeing this little girl in the carriage, we knew that we were in safe hands.
“I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” I began.
“And I am Miss Margaret Hale,” Margaret added. “We apologize for intruding upon your ride. Mr. Riker was very kind and offered to give us a ride to High Street.”
“Can you forgive us for intruding upon your company?” I asked, smiling down at her, with my eyes alight.
“I am not upset,” the little girl said, “I was lonely anyway.”
Margaret and I were startled by her honest confession. That was the one true thing about children; they were unafraid to speak as they felt.
“Well,” Margaret said, “I hope we may be of service.”
“What is your name?” I asked.
“Molly. Molly Gibson.”
“Well, Miss Molly, your dress is very pretty,” I commented.
“Thank you,” she said. “Why aren’t you my governess?”
“Well,” Margaret replied, “I have not the amount of education that allows me to be a governess.”
“And neither do I.”
“You both seem nice.”
“We hope to be,” I replied, “thank you. You seem like a lovely girl yourself.”
“Thank you. My last governess wasn’t so nice at all. She was mean and it made her look ugly.”
Margaret and I smiled.
“Well,” Margaret replied, “hopefully your next governess will not be so rigid and cruel.”
“I don’t think so,” Molly replied. “Every type of governess I’ve seen since coming to England has been mean. I miss home.”
“Where was home before now?”
“Australia.”
“Really?” I marveled. “I’ve always wanted to go to Australia.”
“It’s the best place ever,” Molly cried. “I miss it ever so much. Even though the spiders are very big.”
“Did your parents have to move here?”
“My parents died.”
“Oh, I am so sorry!” Margaret gasped.
“I know how you feel,” I added, “I lost my parents as well.”
“My mother died when I was very little,” the girl responded, “when I was three, and now I am six. But my father died because he was sick. He looked after me a lot and we always were close to each other. It’s not fair. And he was a doctor. Why did he have to get sick?”
“Oh, I am so very sorry,” Margaret said. “Do you have any more family? Is that why you came to England?”
“Yes, miss. I have come to live with my uncle. My Uncle Virge. He is my mother’s brother.”
“And is he kind to you?”
“He tries. He tries very hard. But he’s nothing like my father. No one was like my father.”
“He must have been a great man,” I observed.
“Oh, yes, miss. He was the greatest father ever. It’s not fair. It’s not.”
“No, it’s not.”
Eventually, we reached High Street, the carriage stopped, and we prepared for Mr. Riker to open the door for us. Before that, we heard raised voices. It was clearly Mr. Riker trying to tell someone of how he had escorted two new women here, with Molly Gibson still inside.
The carriage door was yanked open.
“I don’t care who they are,” the voice boomed, “you do not put strangers in a carriage with Molly!”
The man’s face came into view, and it was time for me to be in for another shock.
“Miss Bennet?”
“Mr. Hanley!”
There, before me, was Mr. Hanley, my employer.
“Well,” I gasped, “this is a wretched second impression.”
“Yes,” Mr. Hanley said, his voice faltering when realizing that I was the stranger. “Yes, it is.”
Seeing as how he was not going to offer his arm, I placed my hand in front of him, and he took the message. Taking my hand, he helped me down from the carriage, then he did so with Margaret. Last, he grabbed Molly by the waist, picked her up and carried her from out of the carriage.
He crouched down and looked Molly in the eye.
“Sorry that I was not there to fetch you,” Mr. Hanley apologized, “but I hear that you were well-treated.”
“I was, Uncle. These ladies were my companions.”
Mr. Hanley looked up at me.
“So,” I gathered, “Virge is short for Virgil?”
“She calls me that,” he said, referring to Molly. Next, he turned to Margaret.
“Mr. Hanley, this is my friend, Miss Hale.”
“Nice to make your acquaintance, Miss Hale.”
“Thank you,” Margaret responded. “You have a lovely niece.”
“My last bit of family left.”
I bit my lip, slightly aghast that Mr. Hanley said such an open thing. When I first met him, he immediately struck me as the sort of man who was closed off.
I bent down and took Molly’s hand.
“It was nice to have met you, Miss Gibson.” I turned to Hanley. “Please do not be upset with Mr. Riker. He was just doing us a service, in repentance for almost running us over. That was not his fault either. Sometimes, life just chooses to knock everyone over at the same time.”
Mr. Hanley looked at me, inquisitive.
“You are a unique sort, Miss Bennet.”
“I know.”
I patted Molly’s cheek. Margaret and I went into the hotel.
On our way to Mrs. Hale’s room, we passed Kitty and Raspberry.
“How goes the day?” Margaret asked them.
“It’s work,” Kitty responded, “that’s all that can be said of that.”
“And what about you both?” Raspberry asked. “Your faces have an interesting look to them.”
“Because this day has knocked us about a little too much,” I commented.
“Welcome to our lives.”