9. Two Men, Two Moments
Chapter 9
Two Men, Two Moments
S itting in Mr. Thornton’s study, drinking wine, Mr. Darcy asked to borrow a pen so that he could compose a letter. Since both men were friendly enough and never needed to stand on ceremony, Mr. Thornton allowed him to do so. Rather, he was perfectly content that Mr. Darcy’s company was so easy to endure because the day had been a trial.
Despite that Thornton did not tell him all his woes, Mr. Darcy was able to detect that there was a problem with his friend for the whole of the evening.
“Who do you write the letter to?” Thornton asked.
“To my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“Oh! How is the Colonel?”
“As he describes, he is alive and that is all that he needs to be fulfilled.”
“The Colonel always had a way of looking for the sun, even when the smoke covered everything.”
“Yes. Even when the London fog feels as if it has leapt from out of a Mrs. Radcliffe novel, he still finds a way to bring levity about it. He wrote to tell me that his regiment is coming here and will be camped at Milton.”
This sparked Thornton’s interest tremendously.
“Really? For how long?”
“He did not specify the duration of time that they would remain, but I do know that he will arrive in two weeks’ time. I’m writing to inform him that I will stay here longer to receive him.”
“How long will you stay at the hotel?”
“I am unsure. Even that is not fixed.”
“I envy you now. I would like to be allowed to roam about the world, able to do things indefinitely.”
“We are similar men and different men, Thornton. I can stand still—you can’t. I think you would miss the industry that you would have to leave behind.”
“I was born to a life of working, but that does not mean that I could not make another path.”
“If you were given a rich house, extensive grounds, and a country estate…” Darcy inferred, looking squarely at Thornton, “would you be happy? No, really, Thornton, would you be?”
Thornton looked ahead, staring at the wall.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “after all, you have proscribed to me that I am not the sort of man who can abide standing still.”
“You proscribed yourself. I merely was the first one to say it out loud.”
“Darcy…”
“Yes?”
“I wonder, if sometimes, I am the sort of man who rushes out to seek conflict.”
“What do you refer to?”
“I should rephrase. Sometimes, the fight seems as important as the intent behind it.”
Seeing that Thornton was lost in thought, with his dark brow furrowed and his eyes so severe that it even made Mr. Darcy wonder if he looked such a way himself, sometimes.
Lowering his pen, Darcy turned to his friend and gave him his undivided attention.
“Go on then,” Mr. Darcy allowed.
“Go on?” Thornton repeated. “Go on with what?”
“With the problem that is troubling you. You didn’t speak much at dinner, and I can read all the words between your silence.”
Thornton rubbed his eyes.
“This day is lingering in my mind.”
While hearing this, Darcy flinched, for the memory of Elizabeth Bennet danced across his thoughts. Assuming that his day went a great deal differently than Thornton’s, he was prepared for the difference.
“Why so?”
“Today, I had to dismiss a worker. His name was Custer. First, he had been found smoking in the Sorting Room, and that was the first strike against him. But he grew tardier at tending to the machinery that is used to spin the cotton. By doing so, he could have hurt the machinery, and he wasn’t attentive to the safety of other workers around him.”
“I’m sorry. To dismiss a worker is always a great nuisance. At Pemberley, I’ve had to dismiss servants myself, and it is always altogether never something that becomes easier with time.”
“This one was passionate—I lost my temper. The man would not leave, no matter how many times I ordered him to. Between that and my anger of him endangering others too often, I…it grew violent.”
“You struck him?”
“Yes.”
Mr. Darcy leaned back.
“I cannot pretend to be a little… unnerved. However, I understand that, here in the Northern industry, sometimes severity is required. The relationship between master and worker is a strenuous one, where nothing is entirely black and white. All is gray here. I will not judge you.”
“Thank you. But she might.”
“Who?”
“There was a woman, or women, I should say. When I felt compelled to—exact punishment on Custer, two women had come to visit the Mill. They were dressed simply, but their clothes flattered them. They had a look of two very accomplished ladies, and they were both handsome.”
“And they saw you strike Custer?”
“Yes. But it’s more than that. They came upon me, so much by surprise, and they opposed me.”
“In what way?”
“They demanded that I stop. They cried for me to stop. In my anger, I ordered them to leave. My tone was harsh.”
“And you are curious about the first impression that you gave them?”
“Yes. If it were merely a passing acquaintance, perhaps I would not be so unnerved by it. But those eyes… the eyes of one of them. It is as if the image of her, and the touch of her hand on my arm, still lingers in my mind.”
“She touched you?”
“She held my arm, to try to persuade me to desist in my belligerence. I have a temper, Darcy, you know this. But the man was a danger to the workers in the mill. I have seen laborers in mills die because of negligence. I cannot risk my workers’ lives.”
“I understand.”
“Well, at the moment, my temper had seized me. But afterwards, when Custer had finally accepted his dismissal, I had time to regain my composure. I wish that they had not come upon me at the time, and that I had not spoken so harshly. And worse, I fear that perhaps I might see them again. One in particular, her eyes when she saw me shout at her, it…it still haunts me.”
“Why did those women come to see you? Were they looking for work?”
“No. My overseer told me that one of them was house hunting, for she had moved here with her mother and father.”
Hearing this, Darcy ignored his letter altogether and stood up slowly.
“House-hunting? By any chance, were they looking in Crampton?”
“My overseer told me so.”
“Did they both have brown hair? Of similar height, handsome faces, and womanly figures? One wore a long blue coat and the other a purple one?”
Thornton’s eyes narrowed as he remembered.
“Yes, they did. Darcy, do you know them?”
“The one in the blue coat is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, of Longbourn, Hertfordshire. And the one in the purple is Miss Margaret Hale, from Helstone, Hampshire. They are both from the South.”
“Do you know both of these women, Darcy?”
“I know one extensively, but the second, I’ve only made the acquaintance of this very day.”
Mr. Thornton looked ahead at the wall, deep in his own thoughts.
“Her eyes. Those damned accusing eyes of hers. I still see them. I cannot help but see them.”
Eyes!
When hearing this, Darcy’s blood ran cold. Elizabeth’s eyes were the very thing that pierced his soul to the quick soon after they met. Could it be that Mr. Thornton had been easily affected by them as well? If so, then this would be most inconvenient. If Thornton despised Elizabeth, then Darcy would have to argue with his friend. Although, if he was beginning to feel a softness for her, an unexpected tenderness, then that would be infinitely worse. It would throw Darcy into a secret fit of possessiveness. Despite that Elizabeth had rejected him, it did not diminish his affection for her. In fact, seeing her again, had rekindled any hope that he might obtain in that score. Especially if he could find the ideal time to tell Elizabeth the truth about Mr. Wickham.
But if Thornton were to begin to feel for her! No, Darcy wouldn’t have that. That would cause a great rift between them, and Darcy would fight.
“Eyes?” Darcy repeated. “Which one of them?”
“The one who grabbed my arm. You mentioned that Miss Bennet was the one who had the blue coat?”
Mr. Darcy swallowed.
“Yes… I did.”
“Then it was not her. The woman who grabbed my arm, facing me with such intensity, must have been the other one. It must have been Miss Hale.”
When hearing this, Darcy closed his eyes. Relief! All had been put to rights, with no inconvenience on his part. Thornton marked Elizabeth, but his mind didn’t linger on her. Rather, he preferred the handsomeness of Miss Hale. Both women, in their own way, were equally as lovely, from their dark hair to their round faces and penetrating eyes. Since their minds each lingered on a different woman, Darcy felt his spirits lighten.
He was suffering under the habit of many people who loved but did not obtain: if he could not have her, at least he could have the comfort of knowing that she would not be attached to anyone else in the present.
“They come to stay, Thornton. The Hales, I refer to. They are here, because Mr. Hale, Miss Hale’s father, has left the church to take up teaching here in Milton.”
“A tutor?”
“Yes, he has a friend, I believe, named Mr. Bell.”
“Mr. Bell? The same Mr. Bell who is my landlord?”
“I can assume as such. Mr. Hale seems to teach ecclesiastical architecture, as well as the classics. Greek, Roman, and other classic culture. From what Miss Hale described, he will have younger and older pupils.”
“All the sorts of studies that you would have learned at Oxford?” Thornton asked.
“Yes, perhaps.”
“All the things I was meant to learn,” Thornton said, looking into the fire. “If father had not been swindled.”
Darcy was silent, for he knew that Thornton had fallen back into his family history, and the father who let down the entire family. When this occurred, Darcy knew better than to interrupt, so he went back to composing his letter.
All the while, he felt lighter. Thornton did not pay particular attention to Elizabeth, but Margaret instead. This was well. For this way, he could still keep Elizabeth all to himself, in his mind.