Page 17 of Through Darkened Clouds

The master of Marlborough Mills found himself wending his way to the Princeton District more often of late to meet with Higgins. At first, he went under the pretense of discussing production matters, but over time began to admit to himself that he was drawn to the camaraderie he found at the union leader’s house. Other workers—Mr. Thornton had begun to learn their names—hung about Higgins’ home talking in their bawdy and blunt manner.

He came to visit the children and help them read.

Higgins studied the mill master sitting with little Johnny Boucher, and couldn’t help but smile. It was a shame such a man didn’t have his own brood. The memory of how Margaret also came to teach and care for these children flashed into his mind.

A cog of some kind slipped into place in his head, and he wondered to himself….

“Have yo’ heard from Miss Margaret?” Higgins asked the man crouched over the small book on the boy’s lap.

Mr. Thornton jerked his head up. “Who?”

“Miss Margaret. Her that has left us to go to London.”

“Ah,” he sounded with a faint smile.

Higgins observed a sweep of softness pass over the Master’s features and saw his gaze become distant.

“She’s well, I believe,” Mr. Thornton answered. “She has everything she needs in London.” The smile faded from his face as he spoke these last words.

Hannah Thornton cast wary glances at her son during the weeks after Miss Hale’s departure. Although the days had lightened with the arrival of spring, she still saw the somberness in John’s mannerisms. His spark of determination and eagerness to take on challenges had slackened. He was not the type to complain or sigh overmuch, yet she dreaded seeing the emptiness in his eyes remain unchanged.

Fanny saw nothing out of the ordinary. She was enthralled by the planning of her wedding, which was only days away.

“What color flowers ought we to have at the wedding breakfast?” Fanny asked one evening after dinner.

“I suppose they ought to compliment the cake you ordered,” her mother answered.

“I’m still vexed with Adolphus for not telling me where we are going for our wedding trip! Imagine not being able to prepare the proper clothes for such a time,” she complained.

Mrs. Thornton looked up from her sewing to catch John’s reaction. She saw his lips tighten as he kept his attention on the paper he was reading.

Fanny had no notion of John’s rejection by Miss Hale, and was utterly unaware of the lingering hurt it caused him.

Indeed, Mr. Thornton remained silent more than was usual, keeping his low spirits from tainting the festive atmosphere Fanny deserved to enjoy at this moment in her life. He was determined to give her a grand wedding such as she wished despite the uncertainty of the mill’s financial stability. As ever, he would shelter her from the struggles he and his mother bore.

With all of Fanny’s talk of her wedding, he could not help but muse upon what might have been. In the quiet moments just before he fell asleep, the darker thoughts that he thrust aside during the day crept in with the shadows. The life ahead of him no longer held vibrant purpose. It would return to just him and his stalwart mother—pressing on, no matter what.

Chapter seven

On the day of the Hale auction, Hannah Thornton accompanied her son to Crampton, intrigued to see the Hales’ worldly goods laid bare to all eyes. It was also her frugal inclination to seek out bargains that compelled her to sit beside the care-worn mill master in the hired cab that brought them to the further side of town.

Alighting from the cab, they saw a well-dressed lady and her husband and a woman in calico with a simple cotton cap climb the stairs to enter the row house that the Hales had rented during their rather brief stay in Milton.

Once inside, the murmur of myriad whispering voices could be heard. People from all walks of life filled the front parlor where the auctioneer had set up his stand, with several people standing in the hallway.

Heads turned to see the respected mill owner enter, and those who had heard of a connection between the master and the vacated family began their tongue-wagging.

The rules of the proceedings having been announced, the auctioneer called out the first item, a crystal decanter.

Mr. Thornton was alert to the items being sold, wondering if Margaret would want any of the remaining items.

His mother studied him in surprise when he made a bid for a silver sugar bowl and tongs, unaware that he recalled vividly how Margaret had served her father and himself from it. He also placed an early bid for Mr. Hale’s desk, eager to create a higher price for it, and secured its ownership at the last.

Mrs. Thornton collected a few things: a lace tabletop, a set of silver candlesticks, and a walnut end table. She gave her son a severe look as he outbid her in the pursuit of a mirror framed in ornately carved oak.

A titter of laughter followed as several attendees recognized Mr. Thornton’s mistake. More than a few people took note of his apparent eagerness to obtain treasured pieces and would gossip about the conjectured reasons in the weeks that followed.

When the auction was over, Mrs. Thornton pressed her lips together in some annoyance. Her attempts to win a bargain were certainly outweighed by John’s more reckless desire to acquire more than was entirely reasonable. He had already set aside the things that the girl had apparently requested. These items currently occupied one of the empty bedrooms in their house. What more could she possibly want from him?