Her Father’s Last Wish #2
Margaret’s hand was on the door when Mary cried, “He will sack my Pa if you leave.”
Mr. Thornton wouldn’t dare! Would he? Oh, he knew her well. It was perhaps the only thing that could keep her contained when she did not wish it. And yet, for as much as he seemed to know her, he had assumed she had some secret lover.
As she hovered with indecision at the threshold, the door flung open and in walked Higgins and Thornton. Margaret moved aside, but she did not shirk back when the latter turned a disapproving eye on her.
“Were you leaving?”
Margaret raised her chin. “I had made up my mind to do so.”
“Without me; without an escort?”
“It appeared necessary. I did not know when you would return.”
Thornton’s eyes flew to Mary. Margaret glanced at her, and the girl took a step back and lowered her eyes.
Surely after his visits at the house, Mary knew not to be afraid of him?
But, then, Margaret had seldom seen him look as angry and thunderous as he did now.
That was not the expression he entered with.
It just appeared when she confirmed her willingness to leave without him.
“She stopped when I told her ye would sack my Pa. I tried my best, sir.”
Margaret grew ashamed of herself as she saw her friend’s lip tremble. She should not have put Mary in such a position.
“Sack me! And after I helped you all afternoon?”
“Forgive me, Higgins, Miss Mary. It was not a serious threat.”
“Aye,” Higgins said. “I see your meaning. Well, it is not just Milton that breeds up outspoken and determined folk.” Higgins’ voice had a shred of amusement mixed with admiration in it.
Margaret blushed anew. She now had the reputation of stubbornness even amongst her friends. She stammered an apology.
“There is no need for you to ask forgiveness,” Thornton began.
“I had not intended to leave you so long. I am sure it is only the grief of the day that clouded your judgment so.” He spoke with kindness, but on his final words, his brows tilted down and a strained look entered his eyes.
Did he recall the last time Margaret had been full sick with grief and assumed her clandestine meeting at a train station was due to an error in judgment because of her mother’s death?
That would not explain her lying afterward, though.
“Let us get you home,” Thornton said and extended his arm.
Margaret took it, and they walked in silence until just before reaching her house. “I hate to leave you tonight, Margaret. In the morning, I will send round servants and a cart for your things so you can take residence at Marlborough.
“I beg your pardon? Why should I be there?”
“I assure you my mother will be a stalwart chaperone, and no one would dare say otherwise. However, if it makes you ill at ease, perhaps she can stay here until the wedding.”
“The wedding?” her voice had become shrill. She raced up the steps and Dixon opened the door. Margaret immediately fell into the old servant’s arms, and everything went black.
“When will she wake up? She did not take this long in coming to when—” John clamped his mouth shut.
Dr. Donaldson had been unavailable when he was sent for the second time this day, and a doctor he did not know as well had come to see to Margaret.
He did not need to say things to a man that might damage his future wife’s reputation.
His wife! How he had scarcely dreamed such a thing would be possible.
After her refusal, he gave up the hope entirely.
Too soon, the reality of why she would be his would enter his mind.
That she could not love him—and never would—and came most unwillingly would be dwelt on another day.
He had not meant to think on the sweet gift Mr. Hale had left him until he had reached home.
During the day, he was occupied with taking care of matters for the old man.
Now, as they waited for Margaret to awaken and he was once more in the Hale residence could he not keep the thoughts at bay.
“She should rouse soon. I am confident there is no physical malady, only the strain of the day. That is, unless her father was ill with anything. I know her mother passed not too long ago.”
John furrowed his brow. Margaret ill? The thought of her lying still and lifeless now but pale as if?
her heart had ceased to beat filled him with dread.
God forbid he ever see the day. He would bargain with his Maker that he be struck down first rather than to see the woman he loved—and one so vivacious and alert as she—in a coffin.
It would be the death of him as well. It was no wonder that Mr. Hale did not long outlive his wife.
“No,” he answered the doctor at last. “It was his heart.”
“Well, there can be little possibility of the same calamity for her.”
Not unless she was grieved by the death of her only family and the possibility of marriage to him. That had stung. Once she had been willing to throw herself in the path of danger for his sake. She had said she would do so for any man. Now, the thought of marriage to him had caused her to faint.
Had she put the thought from her mind all day only to be forced to face it prematurely by his words?
How could she have interpreted her father’s words to mean anything else?
How best would a single man care for a single woman than by marriage?
John had flattered himself that he was Mr. Hale’s only friend in Milton.
There had been instant respect and esteem between the two.
In Mr. Hale’s keen mind, John found the memory of better times when he was young and had a tutor.
Now, he could appreciate it more than he had in his childhood when he selfishly did not know what he would soon be missing.
Even when he first had to leave school, he had not considered what he would be missing.
He rejoiced in the freedom and manfully took up the yoke of providing for his family.
It was only in recent years when he tired of the work-driven minds of his fellow mill owners that he desired more.
Despite Hale’s gentility, he had to know that John could amply provide for his daughter.
It would be better for them to marry and she be provided for immediately than it would be to trust to chance that she would one day find a man she loved who could marry her.
John felt his lip curl with the memory of one that it appeared she would most willingly marry.
As nothing had ever been said of a betrothal—even from Miss Hale—John could only assume her suitor was of low means even if he was of gentler stock.
John shook his head. They would have to talk about it eventually, but he would not let it cloud his mind now.
Margaret’s lashes fluttered, and John knelt at her side. He had collected her from Dixon’s arms and carried her to the drawing room sofa. It was an all too familiar scene to him, this time he was thankful she had no wound. Again, however, her distress came at his hands.
“Margaret, how do you feel?”
“Now, I won’t stand for nothing improper,” Dixon said as she hovered, casting John a dirty look.
The doctor assisted Margaret as she attempted to sit up. “Easy, now, Miss Hale.”
“May I have some water?” Margaret asked. She had yet to meet John’s eyes. Dixon presented a glass, and Margaret drank. “I feel much better now. I am sorry if I worried anyone.”
“I should say you did, Miss!” Dixon said and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “My mistress long gone and the master barely cold, and you go and collapse!”
John glared at the woman, effectively silencing her. He turned his attention back to Margaret. “The doctor thinks your fainting was only caused by the effects of the day. Are you ill? Do you feel unwell at all?”
She did not look at him. “I am sure he is correct. All I need is rest. There is nothing wrong with me.”
Nothing save marriage to a man she hated, John thought. It was so like Margaret, to put herself and her interests last. She was an exceptionally loyal and devoted daughter.
“I should like to see if you can walk about,” Dr. Reynolds said.
Margaret nodded and slowly stood. She walked around the room with ease. There was no swaying to her steps, no indication she still felt faint.
“Very good,” he observed. “Then, I will trust your servant to make you comfortable. I will call on the morrow to see if you have continued to improve. It is imperative that you rest and eat.”
“Yes, doctor,” Margaret agreed, but John wondered if she had eaten anything all day. He ought to have thought of that before walking her home.
John walked with the doctor to the door before returning to Margaret’s side. Dixon stood in the corner but continued to look at him with all the suspicion of an old maid who believed every man a brute and ready to attack unknowing females.
“I must be at the Mill in the morning, and there are a few matters I will have to attend to tomorrow regarding your father as well. When I am finished, I will call upon you.”
Margaret’s gaze remained steadfastly upon her shoes. She made no reply.
“Is there anyone my mother might contact for you? I believe I heard Mr. Hale mention relations in London.”
“No,” Margaret shook her head. “My aunt is abroad for her health, and my cousins are in Greece. They are not expected back for many weeks. There is no urgency to write to them. I shall do so when I can manage it.”
John watched her for any indication that there was someone she intended to inform or someone whom she hoped to rely upon. There was a strain in her reply, but he was not sure it came from the source he had assumed.
“What of your father’s friend, Mr. Bell? I am very acquainted with him and could inform him for you.”
Margaret frowned. “He is abroad as well. Thank you for the offer, but I can manage it.”