Margaret of the North (15 page)

Although aware that she was
asleep, he whispered, "Good night, my sweet temptress, my Margaret." 

He reached over to turn off the
lamp.

**************

The next day, they awakened to a
spring morning of characteristically hazy sunshine.  Except for Dixon and two
maids, nobody else was in the house.  Mrs. Thornton was staying with Fanny
while John and Margaret went on their honeymoon to the continent where they
expected to stay for two months.  They had no plans for the day but to rest
from the hectic preparations and celebrations of previous days.  This was the
first day that they were practically alone and they intended to while away
every moment of it together in aimless pursuits. 

In two days, they would be in
London on their way to Paris via Dover where they were boarding, first, a boat
to Calais, France and, next, a train from Calais to Paris.  Dixon was to
accompany them to London and wait there until Margaret and John returned from
Spain.  From Paris where they were staying a week, they would head for Cadiz,
taking a train to Marseilles and then a boat to the south of Spain.  Frederick
and his wife were expecting them in Cadiz in about three weeks.  After a week
in Cadiz, the two couples intended to travel together around Andalusia to enjoy
Frederick and Dolores's favorite spots in the region.  Frederick was anxious to
show his sister what he found enchanting about Spain and was certain that she
and her new husband would see his affection for his adopted country.

John awoke first and opened his
eyes to an abundant mass of dark hair draped on his right arm and shoulder. 
Margaret had slept through most of the night in his arms, her arm draped on his
chest.  He smiled, saying to himself, "Margaret, my wife," as he
kissed the top of her head and laid his cheek softly on it. 

For a little while, he listened
to her calm regular breathing, remembering its more frantic pace when he made
love to her the past night.  Then, he planted another kiss on top of her head
and, imagining that her lips were thrust at him ready for his, he kissed them
ever so lightly.

She began to stir.  Just waking
up, she opened her eyes slowly, slightly disoriented.  She turned her head up
to his and, her eyes still glazed from sleep, she was greeted by loving eyes
and a voice just above a whisper.  "Good Morning, Mrs. Thornton.  Did you
sleep well?"  She blushed deeply, her eyes fluttering, and John knew that
she was remembering the past night.

"Good Morning, Mr.
Thornton.  Yes.  Indeed I did—well and long.  I was exhausted," she
replied, looking away and blushing some more.  She saw the bright light outside
the window and said, attempting some levity in her voice.  "I must have
slept so deeply that I think I did not dream at all.  How late is it?"

He gently lifted her arm off his
chest, sat up, and reached for a watch on a chain on the bedside table,
"Five past nine.  Should we ring for breakfast?  We can be as lazy as we
want today.  We have the house to ourselves and no one is scurrying
about."

"Yes, let's."  Margaret
acquiesced readily.  She pulled the sheet to her chest, sat up, and asked,
"Do you know where my nightgown is?"

John smiled, somewhat diverted by
her attempts at modesty after her ardent response to his lovemaking the night
before.  He playfully tugged at the other end of the sheet to cover himself as
he reached for her gown on the floor on his side of the bed.  The sheet slipped
off her hand when he bent over so she tugged back at it to pull it over her
breasts.  As he came back up, she pretended to glare at him, eyes flashing and
pursed lips turned up at the corner.

Still holding on to the gown, he
asked, "Shall I help you put it on?"

She regarded him for a long
moment, her eyes half-closed and her chin turned up in the air.  She crossed
her arms in front of her and in as haughty a tone as she could muster,
answered, "I suppose so although I am perfectly capable of dressing
myself."

He hesitated and studied the
impish look on her face.  While it seemed that she was enjoying watching his
hesitation, she also regarded him cautiously, waiting to see what her sauciness
would lead to.  He countered her manner with a scowl and held the gown out to
her with both hands, amusement barely concealed in his eyes. 

"Shall I come closer or will
you?" The question was meant to provoke her.

She stared back at him in
silence, lasting long enough, that he wondered if he should do something else. 
But then, she inched closer, stopped abruptly, and turned her back to him.  He
eyed the smooth ivory back and nape of the neck with pleasure, grinning to
himself.  Without hesitation, he tossed the gown back on the floor on his side
of the bed, seized her by the waist, and pulled her closer.  The sheet drifted
of her breasts and down her lap but she made no move to pick it up again.  He
pressed his lips on the nape of her neck, then down her back.

"You realize this is a
dangerous game you're playing?"  He whispered hoarsely in her ear.

"How so?"  She asked
just as softly, refusing to grasp his meaning.

"You know this is a game of
seduction?"

"No, I merely want to put on
my gown so we can ring for breakfast."  She countered coyly.

John grinned once again,
intrigued and willing to play along although all he could think of was making
love to her again.  But he was hardly averse to their little game, curious
about where else it might lead. 

He raised his head and let her
go, "All right, then.  I will get your gown."

He reached down on the floor to
retrieve her nightgown, straightened, gown in hand, and found himself
face-to-face with her once again.  "Come closer so I can help you into
it."

She stared at him suspiciously
this time but gingerly moved closer, her eyes focused on his face.  She did not
turn around but when she was near enough that she could have reached for her
gown, he had swiftly thrown it back on the floor.  Before she could react, he
had clasped her close and laid her on the bed underneath him, caught between
his arms.  She had squealed as they both fell on the bed but she cupped her
mouth to suppress the sound she made.  She was still panting with subdued
laughter when he bent over her shoulders, pressing warm eager lips there, then
up her throat and her mouth, until her laughter quieted down and she returned
his kisses.  He whispered in her ears, "I warned you that this was a
dangerous game."

She did not reply right away,
then with her lips brushing his cheeks, she whispered.  "What if nobody
loses and we both win?"

He did not answer, apparently
ignoring her question for the moment, as he continued kissing her.  Once again,
she yielded but with little of the shyness that she began their romp with the
night before.  She seemed more flirtatious, beguiling him by matching his
kisses with soft nibbles on his face and neck.  He groaned under his breath and
murmured, his lips against hers, "But you win.  You have me under your
spell."  He muttered between kisses that grew more passionate.  "And,
yet, I can keep playing this game with you."

It was late morning when,
famished and flushed, they finally rang for breakfast.  They were both dressed
but still perched on the bed when a knock on the door announced the arrival of
their delayed repast.  Dixon, trailed by Jane, brought in a tray brightened by
a small Chinese vase of fresh red and yellow roses left over from the wedding
decorations and brimming with settings for a meal and servings for tea and
toast.  On Dixon's arm draped a table cloth that she laid on the table by the
window before unloading the tray and setting the table. 

Jane carried the tray with the
sustenance John and Margaret could hardly wait to feast on, their appetites
sharpened by both sweet and savory aromas from raspberry jam, ham, eggs,
butter, and a bowl of mixed berries.  Although smiling broadly, both Dixon and
Jane only bowed their greetings and retreated stealthily from the room with
empty trays, closing the door as noiselessly as they could behind them.  John
and Margaret looked at each other.  She giggled and he grinned, diverted by the
behavior of the two who just left.  Margaret asked, still giggling.  "Will
we be in the next tittle-tattle when the maids of Milton get together?"

"You can bet on it.  Jane
wastes no time.  I am sure she thinks it is a benefit we owe her for serving
us."  He answered laughing.

As she poured his tea, she
remarked.  "That is an interesting word, tittle-tattle.  Quite modern, I
think.  I do not remember ever hearing anyone use it in Helstone nor in
London."

He chuckled at her observation. 
"We invent a great many things here in the north."

After the late breakfast, they
dressed more properly and went out for a very long walk.  By midday, a light
wind had blown away enough smoke and the world outside beckoned.  It was too
beautiful to waste indoors, within the grayness of the massive spaces in the
house that clashed too jarringly with the ecstatic state they were in and were
reluctant to relinquish.  They were in no hurry to go anywhere or do anything
but relish each other's presence, each other's thoughts as they talked, and the
tingling warmth of each other's touch when they stopped to embrace and kiss. 

With hardly anyone else around
the park, they paused frequently, free in their expressions of affection.  They
meandered through the hilly paths overlooking the city and situated on its
edge, seeking out sections that they had not explored before and lingering in
many spots to admire the wild flowers that had begun to bloom.  Apart from the
pinks and greens on Margaret's shirt and shawl and the rosy undertone that
exercise had infused on her cheeks, only the widely-scattered wildflowers
imparted colors in the landscape, still somber in late May.

After bending over to inspect one
of those flowers, Margaret remarked.  "Cotton is not the only thing that
Milton produces.  Isn't it wonderful that even in this air and the want of
sunshine, wild things do still grow bright and beautiful?"

John smiled, gazing at her. 
"Yes, bright and beautiful."

His eyes glowed with such ardor
that she blushed and looked away.  "I was talking about the
wildflowers."

John laughed.  "I know but
can I not admire my wife as well?  There was so much I wanted to say to you all
these years I have loved you and I had never felt free to say them.  Until
now."

She did not answer and continued
their slow progress towards another small patch of wildflowers.  She stooped to
pick a red poppy and offered it to him without a word.

He smiled as he took it from her
and twirled the stem to inspect the flower closely.  "Yes, I agree it is
beautiful."  He followed her along the path, relishing the sight of her
lovely figure moving fluidly in front of him, his eyes glowing, a quiet happy
smile on his lips.  After a short distance, he caught up with her.  "I
never stopped to look at these things before.  My days have been filled with
machines and chemical dyes and keeping up with new inventions to make the mill
more efficient and productive."

She detected a hint of regret in
his voice and stared at him thoughtfully for a few seconds.  "Yes.  But
are they not exciting?  Inventions, I mean, new ways of doing things—those are
all part of becoming modern, are they not?  And you embrace them.  There is
something wonderful about that, I think."

He smiled warmly at her
enthusiasm and approbation and answered, half-teasing and half-serious. 
"Yes and the things we cannot grow like this poppy, we can mimic or,
perhaps, we might even invent something entirely new and strange at first but
serves the same purpose."

She took the flower back from
him, her lids half-closed, hiding the slight displeasure in her eyes.  She
retorted jauntily.  "How could any invention of man create a flower as
fresh and delicate as this?  And would that invention, if indeed it were
possible, wilt as gracefully but sadly as this one?"

He frowned, somewhat perplexed by
the change in her tone that he thought intimated at a rebuke for something he
believed in.  They walked in silence for some distance before he placed his arm
around her waist and drew her closer.  "You are quite right.  The best
things about life are still those that we have been blessed with since the
beginning of man."  He paused in his steps and pulled her against him. 
"A kiss, an embrace," he whispered as he pressed his lips on her
forehead, the tip of her nose, and her lips.

They began their descent from the
hill just as the dusky orange sun sank slowly in the smoky evening fog.

A couple of days later, John and
Margaret reached Paris in early evening.  The journey had been long and
exhausting, the first leg from Dover being particularly rough, as the steamer
to Calais rocked its hapless passengers violently and nearly incessantly for
about two hours.  Dazed, lethargic and too queasy to ingest even a mouthful of
food or drink, they boarded the train to Paris shortly thereafter, almost grateful
for a long ride that gave them time to recover.  Margaret, who had never
travelled on a boat, looked very pale and barely able to hold herself up.  She
fell asleep in John's arms within minutes of the train leaving the station and
woke up a couple of hours later, revived and famished for some nourishment.

The rest of the train trip to
Paris was uneventful but long.  By the time they descended at the train station
in Paris, they were listless and weary until, ensconced alone inside the
carriage taking them from the train station to their hotel, the exhilaration of
finally arriving at their destination infused them with renewed energy.  Before
long, as they surveyed the city from their carriage, what they saw astounded
them.  They gawked, dumbfounded but with great interest, at the spectacle of a
city undergoing massive renovation.  Debris from the demolition of old
structures lay next to new construction, vast areas were being cleared
apparently for gardens and parks, and new gaslights illuminated more and more
streets as they approached the heart of the city where their hotel was
located.  Most impressive to them, however, was the widening and extending of
roads within the city and the new residential and commercial buildings that
were springing up on both sides of stretches where wide boulevards had been
completed.  They were to learn later that the construction of these boulevards
was quite extensive and that whole neighborhoods were being razed to the ground
to make way for them.