Looking to the Future
Nancy Klein
“‘I have not the slightest wish to pry into the gentleman’s secrets,’ he said, with growing anger.
‘My own interest in you is—simply that of a friend. You may not believe me, Miss Hale, but it is—in spite of the persecution I’m afraid I threatened you with at one time—but that is all given up; all passed away.
..I see we are nothing to each other. If you’re quite convinced that any foolish passion on my part is entirely over, I will wish you good afternoon.
’ He walked off very hastily.” - Chapter XXXIX, North and South
Not long after Margaret and Mr. Bell concluded their trip to Helstone, Dixon arrived in London from Milton, ready to resume her post as Margaret’s maid, confidante, and protector.
Her morning arrival caused a flurry of interest in the house on Harley Street, the city being thin of company.
In an unheard-of display of courtesy to a servant, Aunt Shaw asked Dixon to join the women when she brought in the tea tray so that Margaret could hear all the news from Milton.
Dixon entertained them with snippets of Milton gossip, key of which was her ebullient enthusiasm over Miss Thornton’s wedding.
From her lookout on a side street near the church the day of the wedding, and supplemented by information from the Thornton’s housemaid Martha, she was able to provide elaborate descriptions of the bridesmaids, flowers, and dresses.
‘The lace—I have never seen so much lace on one gown. It was all the women could talk about! Miss Thornton’s dress cost a pretty penny, as did the breakfast—so much food, and of such quality!
Not just the usual breakfast fare, but ham and venison and pigeon—and all sorts of accompaniments.
And an iced fruit cake! Many said it was much too grand a wedding, considering the losses suffered by Marlborough Mills during the strike. ’
Dixon paused to allow her listeners to pose questions but, to her great disappointment, none were forthcoming.
Aunt Shaw sniffed, as if the discussion of the affairs of Milton people left a disagreeable odour in the parlour, grand wedding notwithstanding.
Edith smiled vaguely, trying to decide which dress to wear to dinner that evening—Henry was coming and no doubt bringing the latest up-and-coming politician to grace her table.
Only Margaret, bent over her needlework and a complicated set of French knots, seemed mildly attentive.
Unbeknownst to Dixon, Margaret burned with interest to hear any news of Milton and its inhabitants, although she refrained from asking any direct questions.
She had heard much of Fanny’s affairs, but what of Fanny’s brother?
She longed to hear that he was well and had hope of recovering his prospects.
Having exhausted her trove of information about the wedding, Dixon moved on to the topic heavy on her heart—how little money articles of furniture owned by the Hales (and cherished by Dixon) had fetched at the auction.
‘I consider it a downright shame when you consider how wealthy Milton folks are. Mrs. Thornton—now, she’s a sharp one—she came and snatched up several bargains.
But, don’t you worry, Miss Margaret—Mr. Thornton came the next day and paid too much!
He bid against himself several times, anxious as he was to acquire what he had set his eye upon—that little sewing table of your mother’s!
Imagine that! How the crowd did laugh and jeer at him for his absentmindedness!
So, Miss, if Mrs. Thornton paid too little, Mr. Thornton paid too much, and all came out well at the end.
’ Dixon finished her tale with a great smile of satisfaction at having bested the Master of Marlborough Mills.
Margaret reddened with chagrin at this news.
How little she understood him! Spending money on a sister’s lavish wedding was one thing, but bidding on objects from her parents’ house to supplement their small income while his prospects suffered was intolerable.
And the sewing table, which he must know had been dear to her mother—and of little use to him!
—showed a tender side to his otherwise iron character.
She had come to realize over those last months in Milton that she had grievously misjudged him, growing to appreciate him only after she had given him reason to despise her.
Dixon’s recital heaped burning coals upon her head. How she wished she could meet him once more to thank him for this small kindness—and to judge if Mr. Bell had been to Milton and imparted the news about her brother!
To turn her mind from this question that plagued her incessantly, she asked breathlessly, ‘And what of Higgins, Dixon? Any news of how he and Mary fare? And the Boucher children?’
Dixon sniffed. Her bias against the working class in Milton made her memory vague on this point.
‘Nicholas was well, or so I heard. He came to the house several times asking for news of you, Miss—the only person who did ask, except once Mr. Thornton. And Mary has gone to work at Mr. Thornton’s mill because her father wants her to learn to cook, whatever that means. I’m sure I can’t puzzle it out.’
Clever Nicholas, Margaret thought with a smile. He has gotten his lunchroom for the workmen and a livelihood for Mary. Well done. And well done, Mr. Thornton. Perhaps his feelings toward the hands were softening.
If only his feelings towards her would undergo a similar transformation—but why should they?
Her refusal of his proposal, capped by what he thought he had witnessed at the Outwood Station, had sunken her forever in his eyes.
She had lied about what happened that horrid night, and he knew it.
She felt cold and sick at the remembrance, ashamed of herself and yet uncertain what she might have done differently.
You might have trusted him, her conscience suggested, but she knew that was dangerous, given Frederick’s situation.
Her thoughts broke off as she realized everyone was looking at her expectantly. Dixon cleared her throat. ‘I asked if you had received any word from Mr. Bell. I can’t make heads or tails of what he wants of the poor master’s books.’
Margaret shook her head. ‘I have had little news from him. He was never a great correspondent, but his last note was brief and full of complaints. I had written him inquiring after his health, which seemed to displease him.’ She sighed.
In expressing her concern, she had roused his irritation.
‘So I shall write him no more until we meet again. I believe he means to come to London sometime soon.’
‘He is a singular man, and no doubt his many years as a bachelor have made him jealous of his privacy.’ Aunt Shaw arose from her seat, indicating with a significant look that conversation was at an end and Dixon was free to return to the servants’ quarters.
As Dixon reluctantly left the parlour, Aunt Shaw addressed Margaret. ‘Henry will be coming to dinner tonight, Margaret. I asked Dixon to freshen up your best gown.’
Margaret did not meet her aunt’s gaze. ‘I daresay Henry is familiar with every gown I own—he has been to dine in this house four score times since I arrived and has seen the entire extent of my wardrobe.’
Aunt Shaw frowned. ‘Do not pretend you do not understand me. I believe Henry has been showing you particular attention. Given his success at law and his rising place in society, it would be foolish of you not to encourage his suit.’
Margaret nearly snorted, an unladylike sound that would rain yet another lecture down upon her.
Henry had been anything but particular in his attentions; he had displayed an icy civility in all of their encounters.
He was a brilliant young man suited to his place in society, but she could tell from the glint in his eye and the coolness of his smile as he bent over her hand that she was not forgiven for her rejection of his proposal in Helstone when she was but a girl.
He was a man of great pride, and she had wounded that pride.
He set a high store on his value, and she had shown little regard for him by saying no.
It was little matter that she was too young then to know her heart or mind—she knew it better now, but it was not Henry that she bitterly regretted rejecting.
If only Mr. Bell would go to Milton! With a few words of explanation, perhaps he could clear away the mists of uncertainty and restore some manner of good opinion that Mr. Thornton once held of her.
She would never be dear to him now, she knew; he had made that clear.
But at least if he understood that Frederick was her brother and not some strange man, perhaps he might not think her character so black.
Well! She must be patient and hope for some restoration of friendly feelings, even if they might never meet again. That thought brought on a mood of such bleakness, not even a quiet afternoon playing with Edith’s boy helped to expel it.
Edith had recently shared with Margaret a fragment of conversation she recalled having with Mr. Bell where he revealed he intended to accompany Margaret to Cadiz to pay a visit to her brother and new sister-in-law.
Upon hearing this, Margaret had sharply questioned Edith until her cousin declared there was nothing more to remember.
As Edith recalled, Mr. Bell half-thought he should go and hear Frederick’s account of the mutiny, which would also enable Margaret to become acquainted with her new sister-in-law.
Edith begged Margaret not to leave them, fearing she would be wooed away by the romance of Spain and the joy of reuniting with her brother.
Margaret reassured her that she was content with her current situation, though the thought of travel to Spain did enchant her.
She knew enough of Edith’s feelings to keep her pleasure to herself.