Page 27 of Through Darkened Clouds

Mr. Bell swept aside any caution to strike at the heart of the matter. “I thought you might wish to take her as your wife.”

The younger man whipped around to determine if his landlord was toying with him or in earnest. He turned swiftly away again from Mr. Bell’s unflinching stare.

“Miss Hale does not hold me in high regard,” Mr. Thornton uttered in low tones. “She has more compassion for any one of my workers than she does for me!”

Mr. Bell raised an eyebrow at the bitterness in his outburst. He pressed his fingertips together, becoming more convinced of his conjecture.

“Come now, she must have had her objections to some of your operations, but she knows you to be an honorable man—a friend to her father.”

Mr. Thornton remained unmoved, staring out the window. Anger flared within him at Mr. Bell’s intrusion upon personal matters of the heart. Mr. Bell was greatly mistaken in believing Miss Hale would accept him. Had she not unequivocally expressed that his love was offensive to her? And yet the notion that she should marry anyone else stirred the deep wounds in his heart.

“What of Mr. Lennox? Does he not have designs on Miss Hale?” he said, grinding out the words so abhorrent to him.

“Mr. Lennox? She’s no more likely to marry him than the man on the moon!” Mr. Bell responded, noting Thornton’s agitation. “Lennox is a pompous arse.”

Mr. Thornton could not help feeling a measure of relief at this assurance.

Clearing his throat, Mr. Bell began a new tack to beat some sense into this dejected admirer. How blind both of these suffering lovers were!

“I’m afraid I’ve strayed from my purpose,” Mr. Bell announced. “Miss Hale wished me to convey a message to you.” Aha! This turned the head of the somber figure.

“I took Margaret to Helstone,” Mr. Bell began. “You know the place? There we were—surrounded by the peaceful beauty of that charmed land, yet Margaret was distraught. ‘I’ve told a lie,’ says she. What could disturb a girl of her character at this moment that she must mull over some falsehood of the past, I wondered.”

No response. Mr. Thornton stood still, awaiting every word.

“Her greatest concern was that you misunderstood her. You know that she lied. But she wished me to explain the circumstances behind it. She had taken her brother Frederick to the station when this Leonards attacked them—a fellow who knew Frederick.”

Mr. Thornton’s heart began to beat strongly—it was her brother after all!

“Frederick fought him off and got on the train. When the police came to inquire about the incident, Margaret was uncertain whether Frederick was safely out of the country. And so, she lied to avoid any pursuit of the matter.”

This confirmation of Margaret’s innocence was a balm to Mr. Thornton’s soul. She had not defiled her pure character for some lover. She had acted out of fear for her brother’s life. That she had bravely faced such a sore trial alone made him love her all the more!

“I am glad to know it,” he replied evenly. “But why should she ask you to tell me—”

“By Jove, if I must spell it out for you, I shall! Now, I may be an old bachelor tucked away with his books, but I saw every indication of a girl pining for something she is convinced she does not have—your affection.”

The room was silent, but Mr. Thornton’s heart pounded in his chest.

“There now. I have had my say and will not press you further. But for God’s sake, she needs someone who will allow her to find purpose in living and not merely cater to another’s whims.”

Mr. Bell stood up to leave. “I believe she would do very well here,” he said more quietly, studying the man before him approvingly before he left.

The Master sat at his desk, still trying to recollect every word Mr. Bell had uttered, when a rap on the door interrupted the silence and Higgins stepped in.

The trusted mill worker observed the rolled-up sleeves, the worn but pensive face of the master.

“One more day’s work should finish the Peterson order,” Higgins reported, aiming to relieve a furrow from his employer’s brow.

Mr. Thornton merely nodded, only half-attentive, his gaze vacant.

Higgins crossed his arms and leaned back against the doorframe. “What’s flittin’ through yo’r noggin now? Yo’ aren’t cookin’ up some new way to make the men work faster? I’ll tell yo’ we’ve got—”

“Mr. Bell was here,” the master interrupted.

Higgins un-crossed his arms and stepped closer. “Him that owns the place?” he asked warily. “Is there any trouble—”

“No, nothing of that sort.”