The Fallen Woman #5
John came inside, still wearing a scowl on his face.
“I’ve hired a ride,” he said. “My carriage returned to the mill.”
He led them outside and, once everyone was loaded, they pulled away.
No one spoke. Margaret rarely felt such irritation toward anyone or anything as she did just now with Fanny.
Why had the girl agreed to go, likely knowing that the man she wanted to avoid would be there?
Clearly, the two of them moved within the same social circle.
Was Fanny really upset over seeing her secret lover, or had the sight of her closest friend Miss Latimer brought on Fanny’s panic?
Who had entered the Lyceum about the same time as Miss Latimer?
Margaret did not know everyone in Milton or even a mere fraction of Milton’s elite.
She struggled to recall the moment and frowned.
The only people who’d entered with Ann Latimer were her father and mother.
Miss Latimer had approached, smiling and waving at Fanny, and then, suddenly, Fanny fled from Mr. Picard.
Could it be Mr. Latimer? But no…that seemed impossible.
Although he was a fine looking older man and rich, to be sure, why would Fanny form a relationship with her best friend’s father?
Margaret swallowed back her disgust at the thought and turned her gaze out the window.
They were almost to her home in Crampton already. What a disappointment!
“Miss Hale,” John began, “you are welcome to come to the mill house with us. Perhaps we could play cards?”
She turned to face him. “Thank you for the invitation, but I must decline.”
Nothing else was said until the carriage stopped, and Margaret said goodbye to Mr. Picard and Fanny.
As John saw her to the door, he asked, “Why will you not come home with me?”
“I believe I have had my fill of Fanny for some time.” It was an honest statement if perhaps a bit cruel.
“You have done much for her,” he said. “Thank you for that. I wish our evening had ended differently. I was very much looking forward to spending time with you, Margaret.”
She nodded. “Good night.”
She opened the front door and entered, quickly closing it behind her.
As frustrated and agitated as she was, she did not care if John stood there longer or not.
Her father was sleeping in his chair in the sitting room, an open book on his lap.
She decided to leave him there. She had brought enough turmoil to him the past weeks with Fanny’s situation and Bessy’s death.
He looked content in front of the fire, and she did not wish to disrupt him.
Dixon helped her undress, asking no questions, likely sensing Margaret’s dismal mood.
Margaret sat at her dressing mirror for quite some time, rehashing Fanny’s reaction to seeing her secret man.
Obviously she could not remain in Milton if that was how she would behave each time she saw him and, if they did move in the same circles, that would likely be quite often.
It made sense, really… Who else would Fanny come to know so well she could succumb to having an affair with but someone with whom she was already well acquainted?
But Mr. Latimer? The father of her best friend? The very idea made Margaret’s stomach turn.
New Beginnings
John was feeling under the weather and had decided to leave the mill a bit early on Saturday evening.
He suffered from a simple cold, but his head was foggy, and he had trouble concentrating on anything but blowing his nose and wiping his watery eyes.
There was plenty of sneezing as well—more than the cotton fluff usually caused, anyway.
When he arrived, his mother was situated in her favorite chair near the roaring fireplace. The weather had turned cold suddenly, which may have brought on his sickness. He simply felt unwell and needed to go home for the night.
She was surprised to see him.
“I do not feel very well.” He chuckled. “You know I am never ill, but I believe I have caught a cold.” As if to accentuate the point, he sneezed.
She set aside her mending and stood. In typical mother fashion, she felt his head for a fever. “You might be a bit warm but not feverish.”
“My thoughts exactly,” he said. “I am for bed.”
“Just one moment. I have two things I must tell you.”
All he wanted was to collapse on his bed, but he gave her his attention instead.
“Fanny received a letter from Mr. Stewart today asking if she was willing to come to Glasgow. He is interested in marrying her but wishes her to see the town before she decides if she can be content among his friends.”
“Did she reply?”
His mother smirked. “I told her what to write. She wrote that she would gladly become his wife and was certain she could be content in any situation he would provide for her. She added that she would be pleased to meet his friends following the wedding.”
He nodded. Stewart was a good bloke—would perhaps not be the best of husbands, but he would not be cruel to her and would provide security for Fanny and the child to come.
“Is she satisfied with this?” John asked. “Are you satisfied with this?”
“Yes to both questions. She did not care for Picard and, as shallow as Fanny is, all she wants to know is whether or not the wedding ring will be large enough to flaunt.” His mother rolled her eyes. “I am just relieved to have this settled.”
He nodded. “Indeed. This could have ended far worse.” He sneezed. “What was the second thing?”
“The servants have begun to gossip about her condition,” she said. “The sooner we have the wedding, the better.”
“Did you send the letter express?”
She nodded.
“He should receive it tomorrow,” John said
“We asked for him to apply for a special license so it might be accomplished quickly.”
“There is Gretna Green, of course.” It would be cheap and fast. “We could meet there, have it done with immediately.”
“I had her suggest that, as well.”
“I will be interested to see his response.” He leaned forward to kiss her goodnight as he always did but thought better of it. “I am ill.”
“There is a letter waiting for you in your room. I captured it before the gossiping hoard could get to it.”
“A letter?”
“From the Hales’.”
“Goodnight, Mother.”
As he walked down the hallway, divesting of his coat and then the cravat, a small grin found its way to his face.
Had Margaret written to him? Perhaps she thought he had forgotten about her.
While that was farthest from the truth, Fanny had consumed his mind so much that, until her situation was settled, he could think of little else except fixing his business, which seemed to be finally resuming its full functioning following the awful strike.
The letter was resting on the top of his bureau.
It looked like a masculine hand had written his name on the front, but perhaps that was a ruse to throw off the servants.
He wished they could have concealed Fanny’s situation a bit longer but, with her sickness each morning, that was hardly possible.
Before picking up the letter, he changed into his dressing gown, already feeling a little better…and cooler. He opened it and noted the difference in handwriting. It was flowery and definitely feminine.
Dear Mr. Thornton,
I had hoped to see you before now but understand that work duties and family commitments must at this time prevent you from calling upon us.
At the urging of my father, I have decided I must share with you something that has been steadily and uncomfortably weighing on my mind.
I am certain you recall the incident at the Lyceum. I believe it was the arrival of the Latimer FAMILY that compelled the situation. I hope I am not correct in my belief, but I fear it must be so.
Although I do not know if you will agree with me on this supposition, I felt I must share my conjecture with you, for whatever good it might do.
Margaret Hale
How astute she was. John had thought the exact same thing!
Why must it be him? Latimer was John’s banker and the only man he was indebted to, owing him the sum of nearly six hundred pounds.
The bastard pig. No, that was too good a title for Latimer.
John had never liked him or his manipulative daughter, and he never, for even a moment, considered that Fanny might form an attachment to the much-older man!
He rubbed his watery eyes again with a clean handkerchief and blew his nose before literally falling into his turned down bed. The maids might be gossips, but they were efficient at their jobs.
Latimer! He should write a response to Margaret, but surely he would see her at church services the following morning.
Perhaps by then he would receive confirmation from Fanny herself.
Not that it mattered, as there was next to nothing John could do to force the banker to do right by Fanny.
Besides, chances were quite good he was completely unaware of her condition.
Margaret and her father were sitting in their normal pew at church when Mrs. Thornton walked past them with a polite nod.
Margaret turned to see if Fanny and John followed, but it appeared she was alone that morning.
Odd. Fanny, with her morning stomach illness, had been absent for several Sundays, but John always came. Had something happened?
After services, Mrs. Thornton pulled them aside in the back of church.
She began to explain immediately. “John has taken Fanny to Glasgow. She insisted she could not wait another day. She had become nearly hysterical with the concern that she might find herself in the same vicinity as that man again.”
“So, she will wed Mr. Stewart?” Margaret asked.
“Yes, that appears to be her choice. John and I had both hoped Mr. Picard would have suited her, as John travels there twice a year, but it is to be the Scotsman.”