Once Again #3
As he rode to the destination in the cab, ever closer to her, persistent images of what he most dreaded tormented his thoughts: that he should find her closely companioned to Mr. Lennox.
He had no right to let such a relationship disturb him, for she had made it clear long ago that she did not care for him—a man who would use policemen to repress starving men.
He told himself that he would be satisfied if only she would receive him with the warmth of one who had been kind to her family—to look on him as someone worthy of her remembrance.
The walk to the front door from the street was short, but he took long breaths to settle himself. No matter what transpired, he would retain his calm demeanor.
The instant he stepped into the house, his body tingled with the suspense of meeting Margaret again.
As he was ushered into the elegant drawing room buzzing with chatter, he caught a glimpse of her sitting at the far end of the room.
She was listening intently to something Mr. Lennox was saying, as they leaned close together in some intimate tête-à-tête.
His smile evaporated, and he felt the sudden impulse to turn and leave. But Henry Lennox caught sight of him at that very instant and sprang up from his seat to usher the Milton guest around.
Edith smiled charmingly at being introduced, although Mr. Thornton saw the glint in her eyes that revealed her wariness as to whether a manufacturer was worthy enough to be a guest here.
He could not help but think of his sister Fanny, who also set herself above most others.
He took no umbrage whatsoever at Edith’s judgment.
At meeting Margaret’s aunt, Mr. Thornton looked for the resemblance to her deceased sister but noted only the disparity between the plump and pampered woman before him and the wan, depleted figure who had been Margaret’s mother.
He successfully kept his attention to the round of guests he met, although all he really longed to do was let his eyes stray to the corner where he knew Margaret was standing.
And then Henry led him nearer to her. He recognized at once the elegant green dress she had worn to his dinner party, the night their hands had met for the first time. His pulse skittered madly, part in wakened desire and part in mild alarm at how her nearness affected him.
All the latent longing he had repressed for months came rushing forward to crack the steely surface of his self-control.
Had he forgotten the intense power she had to rouse him?
Her queenly bearing, the tendrils of hair just brushing her neck, her rounded shoulders and voluptuous shape made him ache inside.
He swallowed and stepped forward as expected.
“Miss Hale, I am glad to see you again. I trust you are well,” he uttered in perfectly regulated deep tones and extended his hand in greeting to confirm her remembrance of the old Milton ways.
He kept well-hidden the tremor of sensation that ran through him as she slid her slender hand in his.
The handshake that he knew must mean little to her, he would store among the treasured memories of this evening.
“Mr. Thornton, I’m pleased you have come,” she answered, though scarcely looking him in the eye. “How are your mother and your sister? I hear she is married. Your sister, I mean, of course…”
Her flustered manner disappointed him. He sensed her reluctance to engage him in conversation.
He spoke a little of his sister and answered her inquiry concerning Higgins and the Boucher children, but their conversation was formal and caused her to be visibly uneasy.
Soon others she knew well came up to receive her attention, and he fell to the background, where he belonged.
Henry returned to Mr. Thornton’s side. “Does not Margaret look well? She has regained her strength since coming back to London. Milton did not agree with her at all. Last Friday we walked all the way to Hampstead and back, and yet she was as strong as ever on Saturday.”
Mr. Thornton gave a grim smile in reply, but his eyes flashed with envy when the barrister turned aside.
Mr. Thornton did not at all agree that London had improved Margaret’s looks.
Although she could command the stars with her beauty, he thought she appeared frailer and that her cheeks were a little hollower.
There was a tinge of sadness in her eyes which he attributed to the loss of her family and Mr. Bell.
Although Mr. Thornton did not speak to her again until much later, he was aware of where she was at every moment.
At dinner, he was pleased to see her seated across from him but at a distance too far for easy discourse.
If dinner had been a quiet affair, he might have been tempted to let his gaze drift often in her direction.
However, as the guest from the strange and distant North, he was called into much of the conversation.
“My wife and I travelled to Milton once,” Mr. Colthurst related.
“Why, you could see the smoky cloud hovering over the town from quite a distance. I must say it sobered me to think of what it must be to live in such a place. Mr. Thornton, do you spend all year in Milton? Surely, you must travel to more…scenic venues from time to time.”
“I’m afraid my mill required my strict attention. I have travelled from time to time, but for purposes of business. I should like some day to see the ancient ruins of Greece,” he revealed.
“Ah yes, to walk the same ground where Socrates and Plato once walked is quite something. You must indeed go,” Mr. Colthurst replied.
“The skies in Greece are unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” Edith chimed in.
“Clear and blue as far as the eye can see. I’m certain it would be a magnificent sight for one who lives…
well, for one who lives where you live, Mr. Thornton.
However, I cannot say I am one to admire dirty old relics,” she admitted.
“But Mr. Thornton,” Captain Lennox began, still perplexed by the northern industrialist’s schedule, “You may not have the opportunity for travel, but Milton men cannot spend all their time upon things of business, can they? What is done for leisure in your town?”
“Ah, but you must not use the word ‘leisure’ to the Milton dwellers,” Henry interjected. “It is an altogether different word in their parlance, I’m sure. ‘Leisure’ to them would be to construct a new machine or devise a new routine for saving time so that they may be even more industrious!”
Mr. Thornton smiled broadly at the jab. Instinctively, he sought Margaret’s sympathy.
Their eyes met. But there was no mirth in Margaret’s face.
For one brief moment, they bonded in this silent exchange.
He saw in her eyes that spark of compassion and strength that lay within her—as well as all the strife and secrecy, bitterness and sorrow that had engulfed their turbulent relationship.
She would never walk in his world again.
The realization hit him with almost violent force.
His stomach clenched in sickening agony of what would never be.
All that he desired lived and breathed in the very room with him this evening, but never again.
She would never be his own. And although he loved her with a passion that drove him half mad, she would someday belong to another man.
He felt all hope of happiness drain from him. Darkness, loneliness closed in around him like a heavy cloak. He could not breathe.
He looked away to the other end of the table, fighting to keep his composure. He resolved to not look her way again.
It was a relief to him when the women began to leave the room. As the gentlemen continued their discussions, Mr. Thornton cast furtive glances at Margaret’s retreating figure—drinking in the tortuous vision of the curve of her neck, the sway of her walk, and the milky skin of her bare shoulders.
Once the door was shut, he threw his attention to the talk of industry, politics, and management—of which he was well able to share his experience and challenges with the London men surrounding him.
Mr. Colthurst plied him with many questions to satisfy his curiosity about the pace and effect of industry on the entire Lancashire county.
When the men finally emerged into the drawing room, the conversation about his management of the mill continued.
Mr. Thornton saw that Henry Lennox walked straight to where Margaret was and began to speak to her privately while he himself was constrained to remain by the fireplace, supplying Mr. Colthurst with explanations of how he had attempted to improve the lives of his workers through mutual ventures.
“You seem to indicate that your experiments—as you call them—with your workers are now at an end. Have you stopped such experiments or…?”
Henry Lennox appeared at this juncture to interject a topic that would veer the conversation into a different direction, so as to save Mr. Thornton the mortification of declaring himself a failure.
But as soon as the new subject had exhausted its course, Mr. Thornton returned to the previous inquiry.
“I have been unsuccessful in business and have had to give up my position as a master. I am on the look-out for a situation in Milton, hoping I may meet with employment under someone willing to let me go along my own way in such matters as these. I wish to have the opportunity of cultivating intercourse with the hands beyond mere methods of inducing profit.” As he spoke, Mr. Thornton was eager to know whether Margaret could hear their discussion from her vantage point.
“And so to find ways to gain the trust of your men by an interest in their well-being or circumstances?” Mr. Colthurt asked, searching for a logical motive.