Chapter 10 #2
“Oh yes! In Helstone, we had a spacious vicarage and extensive gardens. The rooms here are smaller, but we’ve managed to find places for most of our furniture,” Mrs. Hale replied.
“I do wonder, however, how you manage to keep your house clean here. There is so much soot in the very air, it appears we will be required to scrub our windows and wash our curtains every fortnight.”
“It is a very dirty, smoky place,” Fanny agreed.
“We have a cleaning schedule and staff to accommodate the conditions of living in town,” Mrs. Thornton replied, her rigid posture a great contrast to Mrs. Hale’s sunken appearance.
“We have only Dixon with us for help at present. Charlotte and Cook we had to leave behind,” Mrs. Hale said.
“It can be difficult to find help when work at the factory is always available,” Mrs. Thornton pointed out. “But we have a girl whom we could send to you two days a week if that would be of any assistance,” she offered with reluctance, her son’s wishes in mind.
“How very thoughtful!” Mrs. Hale enthused, her face brightening. “I’m sure it would be a great help. I’m much obliged.”
An awkward silence ensued, which Margaret ventured to break with an eager question. “Do you have a garden?”
A huff of derision erupted from Fanny’s throat.
“I suppose that’s what I miss most,” Margaret explained hesitantly. “Even in London, there were roses in the back courtyard.”
Mrs. Thornton studied the girl’s soft, clear complexion and the delicate way her slender white hands were folded. She saw in the girl’s face that youthful expectation that all things be pleasant and beautiful.
“Our house sits across from my son’s factory. We have no garden to speak of,” she answered, letting the newcomer know they no longer lived among the flowers and trees, but in the midst of brick, stone, and glass.
“There are hills behind the canal that we can see from some of our windows,” Margaret continued in a hopeful tone, swallowing her disappointment at such a curt answer.
“Yes, you may enjoy taking yourselves there from time to time, if you wish to escape our structured landscape,” Mrs. Thornton replied with an air of disdain, looking directly at Margaret.
“It was very kind of Mrs. Thornton to offer to lend us one of their servants,” Mrs. Hale mused aloud after the visitors had gone.
“One wouldn’t expect such a kindness to look at her.
I mean to say that she holds herself rather aloof and is not easily given to smiling.
But it is a lesson, Margaret, not to set your opinions on first impressions. ”
“Yes,” Margaret agreed rather absently, thinking of someone else.
“Her daughter reminds me a little of your cousin Edith with her flaxen hair…and an apparent interest in fashion,” Mrs. Hale remarked, raising her eyebrows at the last observation.
Margaret laughed. Fanny’s dress had been altogether too vibrant plaid with wide-hooped skirts. “It must be all the rage in the shop windows,” Margaret replied, to which her mother smiled in shared amusement.
Outside in the carriage, a similar appraisal of the morning call was underway.
“Well, we have done with our duty. John must be pleased,” Mrs. Thornton said, settling into her seat. “Mrs. Hale looks to be the frail type. Neither of them, I fear, is suited for Milton living. Miss Hale is already longing for the countryside.”
“Did you see what she was wearing? Such a plain skirt for receiving callers! I should think having lived in London she would have acquired better habiliments,” Fanny remarked, smoothing the fabric of her own new dress.
Mrs. Thornton glanced at her daughter, a disquieting sense rising as she compared Fanny to the young woman they had just seen. The fact that Miss Hale did not endeavor to impress with fashionable clothing was a point in her favor.
Miss Hale seemed a sensible girl, unlike her own daughter, who fussed and fidgeted about what she wore and what other people said and did.
It was a sore spot in Mrs. Thornton’s soul that she could not admire her own daughter, however much she outwardly doted on her.
She could not help it, for she had an inherent contempt for weakness in a person’s character.
Her son, she could adore, for he embodied all that was truly admirable: honesty, strength, self-discipline, courage, and determination. Which made Fanny all the more pitiable next to her brother. It was just not in the girl to be like him.
All this went through Mrs. Thornton’s mind in a moment, which led her to ponder next why her son took such an interest in Miss Hale.
Why could not he have chosen a Milton girl?
Miss Hale seemed amiable enough, but something in the way she held herself apart agitated Mrs. Thornton’s pride.
Southern persons could always be expected to put on airs, she mused.
Born and bred in the lassitude of a country parsonage and brought up in London society, Miss Hale would hardly withstand the turbulent turns and trials of living where market forces could sink whole industries overnight, and the threat of violence between men and masters always brewed under the surface.
It was better for John to find a bride of sturdy character if he was to marry.
She hoped John might soon tire of his fascination with Miss Hale.
He was not accustomed to courting women.
It unsettled her to think how easily he had formed an attachment to Miss Hale—after just one dance with her.
He had no experience with love, and she did not wish to see him suffer any heartbreak.