Once Again #6
He gently took her face into his hands, trembling inside to distill three years of hungering longing into this caress.
The first brush of his lips against hers sent pulses of sensation through every nerve ending.
This was a bliss he had never known. He could spend all afternoon in a paradise such as this.
With every touch of her lips, he felt the promise of her affection dissolving all his bitterness and pain.
The ache now growing inside of him was a pleasurable agony of repressed passion, for he desperately desired to show her how much he needed her.
But he would not frighten her, and so—gently, and with utmost care—he tempered his fervency with reverent tenderness, knowing that he had a lifetime to love her.
A short time later, Mr. Thornton emerged from the back drawing room and bounded down the carpeted hall with long youthful strides of radiant jubilation.
It was all decided. They would wed as soon as the banns had been read. She would stay in London to arrange the wedding. He would return to Milton to round up the men and prepare to open the mill.
This time, when he crossed the granite threshold of ninety-six Harley Street into the noontide sun, he could not suppress a beaming smile. The world around him had never looked so gloriously bright. The woman that had once sorely rejected him would be his wife. She loved him!
Hannah Thornton sat at the long gleaming table in the dining room.
A great leather Bible lay open in front of her as she pored over favorite verses from the Prophets to comfort her restless mind.
She heard the brusque rattle of the front door below and froze to listen for the familiar ensuing sound of quick steps.
She got up at once to receive her son, who appeared in the drawing room in a matter of seconds.
Her heart leapt in perplexed surprise to see the corners of his mouth lifted in a joyous smile.
“Mother, I have good news,” he announced as he took her hands and brushed her cheek with a kiss.
“What is it, John? Have you enterprising work?” she asked, endeavoring to read the answer in his eyes.
“Do no more packing. I am opening the mill again!” he announced as he walked over to the long window to gaze over his kingdom with a swelling eagerness to begin his life anew.
“What? You have found a loan? From whom?” She pressed, following him to the middle of the room.
He turned to answer her, with a smile that could not be repressed. “From an unlikely source. One that I believe may astonish you,” he cautioned.
“Tell me,” she demanded, flummoxed by his warning and his glowing joy.
“It is Miss Hale!” His eyes flashed out now in his delight in surprising her.
“Miss Hale!” She faltered, sinking down into a chair. “I thought you had gone to sever all connections to that woman! Why should she suddenly wish…”
“Mother,” he called out with a firm gentleness that startled her.
The tender earnestness of his entreaty went straight to her heart, silencing her. She watched with growing trepidation as her son drew close and dropped to one knee in front of her.
“She wishes to give all she has to the mill, Mother. She wishes to come home to Milton—to come home to me.”
Consternation and a sinking recognition crossed her face as she listened to his words. She hung her head, shrinking from this news. She had not been prepared to give him up! She would need time to adjust to such a startling change.
“Mother,” he said softly, reaching to take her hands into his. “You know this is what I have long wanted.”
Ashamed of her selfish concerns, she lifted her head to look into his pleading face.
“She cares for me, Mother!” The utterance of it reverberated its truth into his being. “I cannot ask for anything more. I have gained all that I thought was lost to me,” he said, his voice trailing off into a hoarse whisper as he felt tears begin to gather in his eyes.
Mrs. Thornton took her son’s face into her hands. “I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten…and ye shall eat in plenty, and be satisfied, and praise the name of the Lord your God, that hath dealt wondrously with you: and my people shall never be ashamed.”
He bowed his head, nodding, and they were silent for a few moments with clasped hands and closed eyes.
When he lifted his head and looked to her again, her heart melted at his boyish hope—and she thought back to those years when they two had struggled long and hard together. He deserved every happiness in the world. And if this girl could bring such happiness to him, then so be it.
“She’s seen your worth at last,” she consented, brushing her hand along his cheek. “If she makes you happy, John, I might learn to like her.”
He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it, taking her words for a blessing. Then he rose up and turned to leave.
“Where are you going?” his mother called out in surprise at his haste. “It’s nearly time for dinner!”
“To tell Higgins and the men about the mill,” he answered with a wide grin, for he could not contain his joy. “The day is nearly over, but there’s still time…” And with that explanation, he left her to contemplate the great turn of events.
As Mr. Thornton strode down Marlborough Street, many were the passersby who blinked in surprise at the Master’s jubilant face and took a second look to determine if it was indeed the mill master well-known for his impenetrably stern gaze.
Mr. Thornton threaded his way through the backstreets and alleys of the Princeton District, knowing well the way to Higgins’ home.
As he passed listless children sitting in the streets and straggled women hanging up laundry to dry in the warm air, his heart pounded with the excitement of conveying news that would affect the lives of hundreds.
As he neared the Golden Dragon, he spotted his friend in a small huddle of men, all without work on this late afternoon. Several of the men he knew by name—they had worked in his mill.
The group ceased their talk as he approached.
Mr. Thornton nodded to the men as a greeting but sought out Higgins.
“May I have a word with you, in private?” he asked the jaunty union leader.
“Only because the mischief in your eyes is a blasted mystery!” he retorted, forcing a breathy laugh from his former employer.
The two of them walked the short distance to Higgins’ house, where Nicholas opened the door to allow the Master to enter first.
Higgins had barely shut the door behind him when the younger man spoke.
“I’ve just come from London.”
“Aye…and?”
“I have found the means to open the mill again!” the Master announced with a beaming grin.
Nicholas tore his cap from his head and slapped it against his thigh. “I knew if there were any man tha’ could find a way to start ‘er up again, it was yo’!” he exclaimed with a grin to match the Master’s. “When do we start? …I’ve got to tell th’others!” He started as if to go, but checked himself.
“As soon as we can gather the men and materials,” Mr. Thornton replied with a great sense of satisfaction. “But I have a few changes in mind.”
Higgins cocked his head in curiosity, boring his gaze upon his employer.
“I’d like to make you overseer, if you’ll take the job. Mind you, the position requires a good deal of brains and a fair amount of brass. Are you fit for it?” Mr. Thornton asked with mock solemnity.
“Blast yo’! Dunnit play with me now! I’ve half a mind to take yo’ for your word,” he shot back in dumbfounded confusion, trying to read the Master’s face.
“I am in earnest,” Mr. Thornton replied, softening his demeanor to convey his sincerity. “Williams has found work elsewhere, and I am glad of it, for I have thought for some time now that you are the right man for the job.”
Higgins turned his face away a moment and then wiped a sleeve across his eyes before stepping forward to clasp Mr. Thornton’s hand in both of his. “I thank yo’ for yo’ trust in me.”
“You have earned it,” his employer—and friend—said firmly as he placed his other hand over Higgins’.
“There are more changes. I have not yet told you the best of it,” Mr. Thornton revealed, an unmistakable twinkle in his eyes.
“Not the best of it…” Higgins echoed in disbelief, still reeling from the onslaught of good tidings.
“Miss Hale is coming back to Milton,” he said, a twitch of a smile playing on his face.
“Miss Marget? Her hoo’s been in London?”
“The very one. Only she will no longer be Miss Hale,” Mr. Thornton hinted, wearing a beaming smile now. He watched his friend carefully as confusion and then recognition crossed his face.
“What? Ah! Am I to offer yo’ congratulations?” Higgins exclaimed, with a widening grin.
Mr. Thornton answered with a shy smile.
“Ah-ho! I see yo’ve both finally come to your senses! I couldna be happier to hear it. Congratulations!” he said taking the Master’s hand to shake it heartily. “She’s not a common lass. Yo’ll treat ‘er well,” he intoned, placing his hand on Mr. Thornton’s shoulder in a fatherly manner.
“I am the most fortunate man of all who walk the earth. I’ll not squander the blessing bestowed on me,” he answered with reverence.
Higgins clapped his friend’s shoulder in satisfied approval.
The door behind them rattled and scraped open. Mary stepped into the house. Strands of hair hung loose from her head wrap. She wore a haggard expression from a long day of fustian cutting.
Her father called out to her with a ring of joy meant to wipe away her weariness. “Mary, Mary! There is such good news!
Trudy Brasure’s curiosity about life in past times and her fascination with the Victorian Era have been part of her since she was a small girl considering the ruins of her grandfather’s barn in rural Pennsylvania.
She began her own personal romance story with a whirlwind courtship. Her married life started in a picturesque colonial town on the coast of Massachusetts. With the addition of three children and several dogs, she currently lives in California.
As a hopeless romantic and a fervent enthusiast for humanity’s progress, she loves almost nothing more than to engage in discussion about “North and South.”