Her Father’s Last Wish #3
He had no doubt she could. She always did. Mr. and Mrs. Hale had relied upon her too much since their departure from Helstone. Indeed, it was one of the things which he believed had connected them. Who could she rely on now?
John gathered her hand in his, feeling the slight tremble of her dainty hand. “Margaret, you do not need to shoulder this burden alone. In his last breath, your father assigned your care to me, and I will see to you.”
She finally met his eyes. Tears shimmered in hers, but she blinked them back.
“I know you will do your—your duty to me. I will try to not cause you too much trouble. I know you are very busy and—” she stumbled with her words as though she could not quite decide on what to say next and had begun to reply without thinking entirely of her response.
She lowered her eyes. “I thank you for your kindness, but there is no need to overly trouble yourself.”
Dixon, who had followed John and the doctor out of the room and then saw to arranging things for Margaret’s bedtime ablutions, arrived in the doorway.
There was another glare at John and then at their joined hands, but she did not chide him this time.
“I have everything ready. Come on to bed now, Miss Margaret. You need your rest.”
Margaret nodded and withdrew her hand from John’s.
Instantly, he felt bereft of her sweet softness.
He did not know until then how a small hand in his could make him feel whole.
He rose first and assisted Margaret up and to Dixon’s side.
He watched after as the two ladies went above stairs and waited until the loyal if fierce servant re-emerged.
“She sleeps?” he asked.
Dixon eyed him with continued suspicion. “I doubt she will sleep this night, but she rests.”
“She needs to sleep if she is to retain her health.” She had seemed too faint and fragile today. Her cheeks had lost their bloom. The fatigue she had tried to hide for months became an open book on her face.
Dixon straightened. “Miss Margaret is as healthy and strong as any of your northern lasses, a good deal more I would say. If she suffers, it must be the unclean air of Milton. My mistress, God rest her, always said—”
John held up a hand. He did not need to hear lectures from this proud woman. “See that she rests as much as possible. If she does not sleep, I will call for Dr. Donaldson. She is to have as much fresh food as she will take.”
“I do not see why you are ordering me about or where you think this food will come from! Nor do I like your insinuations that I do not feed her well enough—”
A hard glare silenced her for a moment. “My mother will arrive in the morning. Speak to her about anything you need, and everything will be arranged. She is a most efficient manager.”
“I will not have a stranger rule over me or this house. Miss Margaret is the rightful mistress—”
Her attitude bristled, but he considered that she, too, grieved for the loss of her master and cared for all that Margaret had gone through since moving to Milton.
“Dixon, it has been an exceptionally long and tiring day. I will forgive your impertinence if you forgive anything I say which seems as such to you. I act in Margaret’s best interest. Mr. Hale himself secured me in that office.
If he had not, then I would do as much as I could out of admiration for his daughter.
Now, I hope we can get along better in the future.
I bid you goodnight. Lock up after I leave. ”
She did not say anything, only tipped her head in acknowledgment before following him to the door. As it closed behind him and he waited to hear the click of locks, he thought he heard her muttering under her breath about not needing to be told how to do her job by one such as him.
He purposefully kept his mind as blank as possible on the journey home.
When heavy thoughts began to seep in, he considered how bone-weary he felt after the events of the day.
More profound ponderings would need to wait for reflection in the privacy of his chamber. Arriving home, he greeted his mother.
“Is it true what I have heard?” she asked.
“What is that?”
“That Mr. Hale died in the middle of Frances Street after leaving one of those Union leader’s houses. The one you took on.”
She gave her head a shake of disgust. She had not learned to be content with his decision; she had yet to see the wisdom in it. However, she no longer voiced opposition to it.
“I am grieved to say that it is.”
“Then is it too much to hope that it is a pure invention of gossips that you carried Miss Hale all over town in your own arms?” She stabbed at her embroidery.
John came to her side. “Miss Hale fainted.”
Mrs. Thornton chucked her embroidery aside at last and hummed. “The tittle-tattle is that alone in the world, she has made a final play at your hand. Some say she threw herself in front of a carriage, hoping you would save her. Others that she embraced you.”
“And what do they say of the man she was seen with only weeks ago?” John sneered. “You told me that I was honour-bound to her after the strike. You said her actions proved her love. I suppose they think this does too? Do they think she has no constancy?”
“Her own actions prove that she does not. She loved you one day but by the time you proposed she had changed her mind! Then we hear of this other lover. Now, he is gone, and the father is dead. Of course, she will fling herself at the nearest choice.”
“Mother, I will thank you to not do Miss Hale such a disservice. For the grief my heart has known due to her—”
“Aye, I know your grief, Johnny. It is why I hate her so. It is why I must tell you these things—”
“No more.” He fell to his knee beside her. “She is to be my wife. My wife, at last!”
A gasp stole from Mrs. Thornton’s lips before she covered it with a hand. Her cheeks grew red as though ashamed of that show of emotion. “It cannot be. Aside from all her games, I am sure she is too proud to have you.”
“It will be. Her father decreed it just before he died.”
“John, no! Not like this. Do not bring me that creature as a daughter and tell me to love her. Not when she is too foolish to love you as well and treats your heart so carelessly. I cannot bear it. Do not be so foolish!”
“I have vowed to look after her, and I will. She is not as fickle as all your gossips say. You ought to know better.”
She hung her head a little, penitent in believing the vicious and idle chatter of others. However, no apology formed on her lips.
“She is as alone as you say, but not for us. Tomorrow, I ask that you call on her. Be a mother to her in her grief.”
“She would not want—”
“You did not see her sorrow today. Whatever you think you know of her, she is softer than that. Or do you think I could love a hard woman? Do you suppose I was taken in by her charms? I thought you did not believe she had any.”
“I would never think so little of you.”
“Then listen to me now when I say your Christian duty requires this of you at the very least. Your mothering heart will demand it as well. Every time you speak evil of her, you wound me.” John did not wait for a reply.
He stood and ascended the stairs, too tired to call for a tray or ask for one to be sent to his chamber.
At last free with his thoughts, he collapsed on his bed still half-dressed.
Margaret’s pain was like an iron searing his heart.
He recalled too easily the grief of losing his own beloved father.
The misery of knowing he had made foolish choices and left him alone to bear with them made a prison for John.
It was not only the death of Mr. Hale which now weighed on Margaret but the fact that he had moved them to Milton—to the place that took so much from them.
Could a woman driven into a man’s arms by such mourning find love there?
Would she give up the other man in return for John’s loyalty and kindness?
He would never want her gratitude, and he thought he could settle for even less than her whole heart.
He prayed that she could allow him just a piece of it.
He needed only a small fraction to move in.
Perhaps when their time on earth was through, she could say with a small smile that if he did not love her best, he had at least loved her the longest. Perhaps that would do for her.
It was all the hope he had, but it shined brighter than a solitary candle in the darkest night.
He could not see clearly the path between here and there.
He knew not how he would traverse it. John only knew that he would bravely seek that light.
Reaching for it would be his guide, and he prayed it would be enough to escort Margaret on the way there and through her heartache.
Margaret awoke with a start. The dream had turned too delicious.
She was encased in Mr. Thornton’s strong arms. In her sleep, she revelled in it in a way that would have brought a blush to her maidenly cheeks during the day.
Through the fog-filled thought of sleep, she realized it was no dream.
The memory of his heat against hers, the feeling of security, and the desire to lay against his chest forever were far too real to be a conjuring of her most secret yearnings.