Page 31 of Through Darkened Clouds

As the dinner hour approached, Margaret sat in her room admiring the velvety petals of the roses she had purchased from the street seller that afternoon. She had been drawn at once to the dainty color of pink. They were just like the roses her mother had carefully tended, the ones that no longer grew at the vicarage in Helstone.

Edith swept into her cousin’s room. “Sholto says he has invited your father’s friend to dinner this evening. Mr. Thornhill or some such from Milton?”

“Mr. Thornton?” Margaret held perfectly still.

“Yes, that’s it.”

“Here! Tonight?” Margaret exclaimed, stumbling to rise from her cushioned chair.

“Oh, my dear, how pale you are! I told Sholto that such a visitor might disturb you. There’s nothing to be done about it now, of course. But you may say you are ill—”

“No…no. I am all right. I just did not expect…I didn’t imagine visitors so soon after Mr. Bell,” Margaret answered, pressing her fingers against her burning cheeks.

“I will scold Sholto for not remembering that you wish to forget that awful place,” Edith announced as she left.

Margaret glanced at the clock on her mantel. It was half-past six. Her stomach clenched.

Why had he come? Was he here to finalize details concerning her family’s departure from Milton? She could think of no other reasonable answer.

She paced about the room, all the while wondering how he would receive her and how she must comport herself in his presence until she at last sat at her vanity to re-pin her loose hair and dab powder onto flushed cheeks.

Ushered into the front parlor, Mr. Thornton noted the rich Persian carpet and the multitude of elegant pieces of furniture in walnut and soft blue velvet. Here and there were porcelain vases overflowing with fresh pink and white flowers. He frowned to realize his own home would not compare favorably.

He was annoyed to find Henry Lennox there. How often did the barrister dine with the family, he wondered. Capt. Lennox eagerly took up trivial conversation, in which Mr. Thornton participated as he was required. But all the while his senses remained vigilant for the entrance of the one he most wanted to see.

At last! —her voice. His eyes darted to the far side of the room where the women entered. He struggled to remain engaged in the discussion of the cotton trade when all he wished to do was take in the sight of Margaret.

The women drew closer.

“Mr. Thornton, allow me to introduce to you my wife, Edith,” Capt. Lennox said.

Edith dipped her head and made a few pleasant remarks to him, while Margaret stood apart.

Mr. Thornton could not help glancing at the silent woman in black who kept her head bowed slightly. Did she wish to avoid his presence? She was a vision of loveliness, even in her mourning.

“Mr. Thornton,” Margaret acknowledged him in turn. She stepped forward but did not offer her hand.

“Miss Hale,” he replied formally, disappointed that she met his eyes only briefly. He did not notice that her hands trembled.

When dinner was announced, Capt. Lennox led his mother-in-law to the table. Henry was paired with Margaret, and Edith honored Mr. Thornton by threading her arm with his.

Watching Margaret walk arm in arm with Henry, Mr. Thornton found it difficult to keep his polite smile in place as he followed them.

He was pleased, however, to be seated almost directly across from Margaret.

After some discourse over Queen Victoria’s planned visit to France, Aunt Shaw turned the tide of discussion to their guest. “How many men do you employ in your mill, Mr. Thornton?” she asked with casual curiosity.

“I have seven hundred men who work for me,” was the answer.

“Gracious!” Aunt Shaw declared. “It must be quite an undertaking.”

Margaret regarded Mr. Thornton with admiration. “I believe it is the largest mill in town,” she added.

Surprised, he smiled at her.

Margaret quickly looked away. A deep blush colored her cheeks.

“I can’t imagine how much smoke such a mill must make,” Edith said. “Henry says the sky is never blue there. Is that true?”