Chapter 2 Passages in Time #11
Some events can best be described as conversation stoppers – and this, MJ thought as they walked into the Thorntons’ drawing room, was one of them.
The babble of conversation stopped immediately.
A woman dressed entirely in black stared at them for a moment and swayed slightly.
Then MJ saw her stiffen her spine before walking imperiously towards them.
“John, I knew you were not dead – but I must say I did not expect you to return with Miss Hale. I thought you had left Milton, Miss Hale. After your father died, you returned to your family in London. Your last letter said you had settled in with your aunt, Mrs. Shaw. It explained that although Mr Bell had left you all his holdings, you had no intention of interfering with the running of Marlborough Mills.”
MJ recovered first, thinking on her feet about how to explain her reappearance in Milton.
“I had some other business in the area. I bumped into Mr. Thornton at the station and he told me about the fire and his suspicion that it was set deliberately – we have been to London to confirm that his misgivings about the fire were correct.”
“You think the fire was arson,” Hamper, one of the rival mill owners, said.
“I don’t think it – I know it,” John said, recovering quickly from the news that he had already met Margaret in his own time. “I was in the store when the fire started. A man called out to me – he said that I had been warned. He thought he had trapped me in the blaze, but I escaped.”
He pulled the bell to summon a servant, and a maid appeared directly.
“Jane, please ask Billings to fetch a constable.”
If the maid was surprised by the instruction, she did not show it.
When she had departed, John held out the clay pipe. “Miss Hale has just found this in the cotton store. With what we have discovered in London about the Lancashire Textile Company – I not only know who started the fire, but who he was working for.”
“A clay pipe, Thornton. They’re two a penny around here,” Hamper said.
“That is true, but I believe when confronted with it and arrested for arson, the little rat will squeal. He will not want to be sent down alone – he will talk.”
“Well, as this is family business, we should leave you to discuss it, Thornton,” a small man said as he moved towards the door.
“What’s your hurry, Slickson? You should stay. After all, this business involves you.”
“Involves me? I don’t see how.”
“As the owner of the Lancashire Textile Company, you are planning to buy Marlborough Mills. You, Slickson, paid for my mill to be torched. You tried to steal Marlborough Mills from my father all those years ago. You didn’t succeed then, and you won’t now.”
A knock on the door was followed by Billings entering with the police constable.
“Thank you, Billings. Constable, I want this man arrested in connection with the fire. Tell Inspector Watson I will be along directly, and have some men pick up Harry Stephens for the same offense. He puts up in Mercy Street, I believe.”
“Yes, Mr. Thornton,” the constable said, for no member of the constabulary would argue with John Thornton, respected magistrate of the district. “Come this way, sir,” he continued, placing handcuffs on Slickson.
“You will pay for this, Thornton! You have no proof, no proof whatsoever!”
“You will see that I do, Slickson. You cheated my father and caused his death. You will not do the same to me. Take him away.” An uneasy silence descended on the room after the constable led Slickson away.
“We’d best take our leave, Thornton. You have a lot to be getting on with, I am sure,” Hamper said, speaking for the other mill owners.
“Yes, we will meet as usual later this week, gentlemen.”
When they had left the room, John turned to his mother. “I am sorry to have worried you so, but the inquiries I made had to be made in secret,” he said, taking her hand.
Hannah looked at her son and Miss Hale. “I suspect that is not all that has happened in secret. Is Miss Hale back in Milton for good?”
John smiled and took his intended’s hand. “Miss Hale has agreed to be my wife, Mother. I could not have got through the last week without her. It is my dearest wish that you should become friends.”
Hannah Thornton looked at the woman whose arm her son had taken as he spoke. “We have had our differences. Miss Hale and I have little in common. But you are my son’s choice, so I will put aside those differences for his sake.”
MJ stared at the woman for a moment. It was odd speaking to somebody who obviously knew you, but of whom you had no recollection.
She would have to choose her words carefully.
“I can think of one thing we have in common, Mrs. Thornton – we both love your son. Surely that is a good starting point for our new relationship.”
“Aye, there is truth in that. I had best go and send a note to Fanny, letting her know you are alive and well, John.”
“Yes, Mother. I will see about some rooms at the Grand Hotel for Miss Hale. We plan to marry as soon as the banns are read – so you both best start planning a wedding.”
“People will frown at the haste, John, but I’m sure that neither of you will be bothered by that.”
“No, Mother. People can talk.”
She left them alone.
“So Bessy Higgins was right, we had already met,” MJ said.
“I don’t understand how I do not remember you, but I am glad we have already met because it means I do not have to wait many months to marry you. Tell me you do not expect a long courtship.”
“No, I do not, and a whirlwind marriage is a sign of romance. It seems as if you are marrying a woman of fortune, John – your dreams for the factory, the village, and workers can be realised.”
“You would invest your money in those things, Margaret?”
“I would, John, I would. It is time to create your legacy, Mr. Thornton, and to ensure my survival in the future.”
“Come, my Margaret, I will walk you to the hotel and then I will deal with Slickson. Tomorrow I will call on you first thing and we will speak to the vicar and arrange for the banns to be called. For only when we are married will I believe this is not a dream.”
She nodded. “Only when we are wed will I return to this house. The next time I climb those steps, it will be as Mrs. John Thornton.”
“Yes, my love,” he said, savouring the sound of her name. “As Mrs. John Thornton.”
Kate Forrester lives in Shropshire, one of the most beautiful counties in Britain, with her family and other animals.
She has worked as a nurse in the NHS for thirty years.
About five years ago she stumbled across the c19 forum and was bitten by the writing bug.
Since then she has written two novels Weathering the Storm and Degrees of Silence and is about to publish her third a Nightingale Sang.
Kate Forrester’s other books include: A Nightingale Sang, Degrees of Silence, In the Shadow of the Games, The Best Things Happen While You’re Dancing, and Weathering the Storm