Mistakes and Remedies
Julia Daniels
“You consider me mistaken, and I consider you far more fatally mistaken. I don’t expect to convince you in a day…but let us know each other, and speak freely to each other about these things, and the truth will prevail.” - Chapter XXVIII, North and South
Missing
“Margaret!”
Margaret sighed and rolled onto her back but did not open her eyes.
She had ignored her father’s initial attempt to rouse her, thinking it was simply part of the unsettling dream in which she was deeply entangled.
When she felt someone squeeze her shoulder, it became obvious this was no longer part of her dream.
She opened her eyes, squinting at the bright light shining from her father’s lamp. “Papa?”
“Margaret, you must get up!”
“Are you unwell?” She sat up so quickly the blood rushed to her head. She had just lost her mother. The sudden thought that her father might be sick too frightened her.
“No, my dear, but you must get up.” He put his hand on her back and helped her to stand. “Mr. Thornton is here.”
“Mr. Thornton?” She glanced at the clock on the mantle of her fireplace. It was almost half-past ten. “So late?”
“Miss Thornton did not arrive home after seeing you this afternoon,” he answered. “Mr. Thornton and his mother are very concerned for her safety.”
“Oh. My.” She looked around her room for the dress she had worn earlier that day and grabbed it. “Can you help me put this on?”
Fanny Thornton had left the Hale home nearly eight hours earlier. To say Fanny had been despondent and in a state of panic would be an understatement, but Margaret had understood Fanny intended to go straight home.
Once the dress was over her head and fastened, Margaret slid her feet into her slippers and moved towards the door.
Her hair was loose and still damp from her earlier bath, but it would have to do.
She rushed down the stairs and into the study, where she found John Thornton pacing in front of the fireplace.
He came twice weekly to this room to take his lessons from her father, but tonight he looked positively wild.
His hair was disheveled. His usual black jacket was off as was his cravat, the top buttons of his shirt flipped open.
“Miss Hale.” He nearly lunged for her when he saw her. “Has your father told you? Fanny never came home after seeing you. Do you know where she is?”
“Please sit down, Mr. Thornton.” Somehow, she kept her voice steady and firm.
“Do you know where she is?” His loud demand bounced off the walls of the study.
She swallowed and sat heavily on her father’s chair, near where Mr. Thornton remained standing.
She glanced at her father. He seemed to understand what she had to tell their guest was for Mr. Thornton’s ears alone, as he nodded and turned to go out of the room.
Once her father left, closing the door behind him, Mr. Thornton, still vibrating with tension and worry, sat on the edge of the chair across from her.
“Fanny left here just after two this afternoon, Mr. Thornton.”
He nodded. “That is what our driver said. Fanny sent the driver home, telling him she would walk home, but she never arrived. Do you know where she went, Margaret?”
He’d never called her by her Christian name, not even the afternoon following the awful strike and mob attack at Marlborough Mills when he’d proposed marriage.
“I may well know where she is, yes.” She stared at her hands resting in her lap.
“I am not certain how to tell you what Fanny shared with me this afternoon. I fear you will be shocked, John.” She had whispered his name so many times to herself, in front of her mirror and when alone. Now, hearing it aloud felt odd.
He leaned forward. “Tell me. Please! My mother is a wreck.”
The topic was so improper to discuss, even with female family members; certainly, she had never talked about such things with anyone but her cousin Edith and the one time with her mother just before she had passed from this earth.
“Fanny is carrying.” Margaret blurted out the words, unable to think of a gentler way to break the news.
“Carrying?” His brows narrowed. “Carrying what?”
“Oh, my.” She covered her face with her hands. Was he as na?ve as she?
He reached forward and gently pulled her hands away. “Carrying?” he repeated.
She met his gaze. “A baby,” she whispered. Tears began to form in her eyes. She sniffed and looked away.
He stood as if poked with a hot iron. Staring incredulously at Margaret, he yelled, “Impossible!”
He stalked to the window and looked into the dark night. “She told you this?”
The question came out as a roar. Margaret took another deep breath and remained calm. He was not directing his anger at her but, rather, at his foolish sister.
“Yes,” she told him.
He raked his long fingers through his raven-black hair. Was he trying to calm himself? Did he believe her? How awful that she should have to be the one to tell him!
“She thought I could help her,” Margaret continued. “She was frightened to tell you and your mother. Because I don’t belong to her social circle, she thought it was safe to tell me. She said I had no one to tell whose opinion mattered to her.”
How offensive Fanny had been! She had said Margaret was so irrelevant in Milton that no one liked her enough to believe her or would even listen to her if she started such a rumor. Yet Fanny had raced to Margaret for help.
He turned to her, a quizzical look to his brow. “How could you help her?”
Margaret stood and moved close to him. He looked so forlorn.
She spoke to him softly, gently. “Fanny thought perhaps my Aunt Shaw could house her until the child arrived. She had concocted a foolish story she planned to use as a cover. She would say she had married a military man who wished her to be in London when he arrived home on leave. When I reminded her that my Aunt Shaw and cousin Edith had met her at the Great Exhibition, she knew that would not be a feasible choice.”
“She forgot meeting your family?”
“So it seems.” Margaret grimaced. “I do not believe she is thinking clearly at present.”
“Nor do I.” He sighed. “Do you believe she has run away to London, then, with this story in her mind?”
“No.” Margaret shook her head.
“Where then?” he pressed.
“Possibly the Princeton District.”
His eyes narrowed again, but she could tell he believed her. “Why there?
Margaret took a deep breath. “Fanny said she overheard two of your maids discussing a woman in Princeton who was able to…” She paused and swallowed, hoping she could force the rest of the words past the lump in her throat. “Who could stop…a baby…from…coming.”
“What?” he yelled.
She cringed but was not afraid of him. He would never hurt her.
“The woman is a midwife, Fanny said, who has special tonics and medicines to end the…situation. I have never heard of such a thing, but surely there must be midwives in Princeton, as few who live there can afford the services of a doctor.”
“And thus you believe she has gone there? To this midwife in Princeton?”
Margaret shook her head. “I thought she had gone home to you and your mother. That was what I suggested she do. Somehow, she thought I would know this midwife since I visited Bessy Higgins so frequently. When I told Fanny I did not know any sort of person, nor did I wish to, she became very angry. She stormed out, and I stood watching here at the window until I could no longer see her down the street. I imagined she climbed in your carriage and went home to tell you.”
“A baby,” he whispered. “How could that have happened?”
Margaret’s eyes shot to his. Did he really not know how babies were made?
“That is…I know how it happened.” He chuckled self-consciously as a flush crossed his cheeks. “I simply had no idea my sister was even interested in a man, and certainly not…to such…an extent.”
“We should go to Princeton,” she said.
“You will come?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Truth be told, you are not well liked there. I might be able to find this person more easily than you could on your own.”
“Sadly, I believe you are correct.” He nodded. “Very well. If you are willing, I shall ask your father if you can accompany me. It won’t help your reputation to be seen with me after dark.”
“Fanny’s safety is more important than my reputation,” she said. “I will come, and Papa will let me.”
Found
John shifted on the squabs of his carriage seat, anxious to get to Princeton, to find Fanny, and to uncover what the girl had gotten herself into.
He believed Margaret. There was no reason not to except, as he’d told her, Fanny had shown no interest in any men and, indeed, John had introduced her to many eligible bachelors.
Margaret sat serenely on the seat across from him, watching the scenery pass outside the window. Her hair was still down, cascading over the front and back of her shoulders. He had never imagined it would be so long or so wavy. Lord, she was a beautiful woman.
“I think we must go to the Higginses’ home first,” she said, breaking the silence. “Nicholas might be able to direct us to the midwife we seek.”
Nicholas Higgins was one of the troublemakers of Milton, one of the union men who had led the strike against Marlborough Mills.
John bristled at the idea they would have to turn to Higgins for assistance, but Margaret’s closest friend was Higgins’ daughter Bessy, and surely he would be willing to help Margaret.
John nodded, conceding she was correct. But would Higgins help if he knew it was to aid a Thornton? “I wonder if you could receive his help without mentioning Fanny?”
“You fear her reputation?”
“That and, if what you say is correct, and I have no reason to doubt your honesty”—Except for the strange man you were with at the train station—”she is already ruined.”
“Perhaps?” she whispered. “You may well be able to save her from disgrace.”
“She will have to marry the father of the child.” There was no other option to save her from disgrace and ruin. It was the only solution.