Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
Mrs. Thornton sat at breakfast promptly at six, the white linen cloth spread over the round table in just the manner she instructed.
Her son would appear at any moment, ready to continue his preparations for getting the mill running again.
The stupidity of the strikers would not put him out of business, she was sure of that.
If they lost their jobs to the Irish, they had only themselves to blame.
She supposed Miss Hale would not approve. But what should a chit of a girl have to say about how her son ran his business? Mrs. Thornton’s ire flared as she recalled Miss Hale’s behavior last evening. The audacity she had to speak up against her son as she sat at his table!
John entered the room just then, greeted his mother, and sat down in his customary place. Martha appeared almost immediately with his eggs and toast, and a bowl of sweetened porridge for the Missus. His mother poured tea for him. The aromatic scent of Darjeeling spices wafted from the steaming cup.
“I’m glad our party is over now, so that you can focus solely on your plans. I expect all the other masters have discovered what you intend to do?” Mrs. Thornton asked, taking a sip of her tepid tea.
“Mr. Slickson knows, so no doubt all the others do as well,” he said blandly, dipping his toast into the yellow yolk.
His mother watched him closely. His manner was short and grave. No doubt, it was because of the risks involved in what he was about to do. Still, she wondered if Miss Hale’s insolence had affected him overmuch.
“I had my misgivings about inviting the Hales,” she said, tilting her chin up. “It’s incomprehensible to me that Miss Hale would give you such a dressing down in front of—“
“Miss Hale is at liberty to express her opinion on any matter. She is a vicar’s daughter after all, and has a care for the lower classes,” he argued in a firm but tired tone. “It is in her nature to have compassion for others.”
But apparently not for you, his mother thought. His defense of the girl vexed her. It confirmed her forebodings that he still held an interest in the girl. They ate in silence together.
“I have much to do. Good day, Mother,” he said after his last bite, then rose from his empty plate to begin his work.
At about the same time, two miles away in the Hales’ home, Dixon shook Margaret awake.
“Miss Margaret!” Dixon urged the sleeper to wake.
“Hmmm,” the drowsy girl rolled to her side.
“Miss Margaret!” the panicked servant urged more loudly, giving the girl’s shoulder another shake. “It’s your mother. She’s in a terrible state. You need to fetch the doctor!”
Margaret opened bleary eyes and pushed herself up. “What is it? What has happened?” she asked, a growing sense of dread clearing away her drowsiness.
Dixon wrung her hands, fear written all over her face. “She’s gone into convulsions. She woke several times during the night in pain. I fear the dinner party was too much for her frail system. You must go get Dr. Donaldson!”
Margaret was already tossing off her nightdress and pulling on her shift as Dixon frantically explained. She put on her day dress, forgoing her corset, and hurriedly thrust her toes into her stockings. Her mind raced with horrific images. Her heart drummed with fear.
Having laced her boots, she threw open a bedside drawer to rummage for the piece of paper with the doctor’s address. Would he still be home? Or would he already be out the door on his rounds?
She raced down the stairs, though with as light footsteps as possible in her flight. It would do no good to wake her father at such a time.
Her legs were wobbly as she walked nearly at a running pace, realizing much too late that she had forgotten her bonnet. She asked directions from several people as she went until at last she climbed the steps of the good doctor’s house and rang the bell.
Relief poured over her as Dr. Donaldson himself appeared within a few moments.
“My mother!” she said, still catching her breath from her chase.
He understood at once, seeing her disheveled state, and disappeared to fetch his bag for only a few seconds before they both dashed on.
When they arrived at the house, Mr. Hale was crouched by his wife’s bedside, clutching her limp hand.
“How could you keep such a thing from me?” he wailed, accusing both the doctor and his daughter of their knowledge. Dixon had been obliged to tell him all.
“We felt it best to allow you to come to your conclusions slowly,” the doctor answered for them both as he attended to his unconscious patient. “However, occasionally a bout of convulsions will show the seriousness of the condition well before the final decline.”
The words, although spoken soothingly to explain, sounded as a death knell to Mr. Hale. He began weeping silently. “I should not have taken you from Helstone. It is all my fault,” he mumbled.
Margaret’s heart bled to see her father so stricken, and gently coaxed him to a chair in the far corner to allow the doctor to examine his patient.
The atmosphere of the room was heavy with fear. Silence pervaded as they waited for the doctor’s pronouncement. The shivering sigh from Mr. Hale and a “hmm” from the doctor being the only sounds for many minutes.
At last he stood and faced the onlookers. “The worst is past. The spasms were bad, but the opiates I have given her will let her sleep. She will rally this time.”
“This time?” Mr. Hale cried out. “I cannot bear it. Perhaps you are yet mistaken?” he asked in desperation. His pitiful hope caused the old doctor to sigh.
“I’m afraid not. You must take it like a man and prepare yourself, although you may yet have many months. Do not overburden her with your grief, sir,” the doctor advised.
They spent the day watching over the sleeping patient. Margaret insisted poor Dixon sleep while her mistress slept. Mr. Hale stayed by his wife’s side, his vigil vacillating between prayer and penitent grief.
The routines of normal life vanished, and time was meaningless as interminable waiting stole every thought.
Margaret performed tasks as a shadow of herself, moribund and dulled to all other concerns.
The dinner party, the terrible poverty of the Bouchers, her clashing with Mr. Thornton—all faded into a far-away distance.
Fear of a motherless future consumed her.
And the terrible duty of keeping her father from collapsing into uselessness fell heavy upon her soul.
She thought of writing Edith to tell her of what would eventually come to pass. Aunt Shaw should be told.
Oh, was it only a year ago that Edith had married? It was painful to consider how much had changed since then. Last summer, Margaret had returned to Helstone with no care in the world, roaming her forest and delighting in its gardens. How hard life had been since father had moved us to this town!
And yet, she could not wholly wish she had never come to this place. It had opened her eyes to other worlds and people she would have never met in Helstone.
Toward dusk, Margaret was carrying a tray of tea upstairs when her father appeared above, his eyes alight with urgency. “I believe she’s waking!”
When Mrs. Hale opened her eyes at last, the hovering faces surrounding her bed perplexed her. “What is it?” she asked of them.
Her husband smiled, unable to contain his joy at seeing her so unaffected. It was as if it had all just been a dream.
“You were ill, mamma,” Margaret answered gently, offering nothing more. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes, I suppose I am. My head feels a bit muddled. How long have I been sleeping?”
“Most of the day, Mum,” Dixon answered, “now don’t you worry about anything. The doctor said you’ll be better now.”
“The doctor? He was here?”
“My darling,” Mr. Hale said, holding her hand to his heart, “we are happy you have recovered.”
The dark cloud had passed, and the house fell into a more peaceful mode. The tired watchers could get proper rest that evening.
In the morning, Dr. Donaldson came again to check on his patient. Mrs. Hale was to rest that day, and then the next day she could go to her sitting room if she felt better. She was still uncomfortable in certain positions.
“Is there anything more we can do to ease her discomfort?” Margaret asked him as he stood in the hallway.
“A water bed may help give her a better night’s sleep. I believe the Thorntons have one you may borrow.”
“Yes, Fanny spoke of it once to me. I will go ask about it this afternoon.”
Margaret was glad to be given a useful errand. She yearned to get out of the house. After she went to the Thorntons’, perhaps she would go see Bessy.