Margaret of the North (26 page)

"I can tell you when the
women start decorating the place.  They will first come and clean.  You can
come after that."

"Not until then?  Did you
know I can wash and iron linen?"

She was teasing him but it
bothered him somehow and he scowled at her.  "Not my wife!"  He was
immediately sorry and added, apologetically, "not in your condition,
anyway."

"It's not so bad although it
is exhausting work.  I did it when I first came to Milton and Dixon could not
find help willing to take the wages my father could pay.  Why, I remember my
first big job!  It was washing and ironing curtains so that your first dinner
at our house would be as pleasant as possible."

"I'm sorry.  I did not mean
to ridicule that type of work.  But you do not have to do that and I would
rather that you only help with decorating the dining hall."

"Yes, of course.  I was only
teasing about the cleaning.  You have been looking so serious in our walk and I
wanted to lighten your mood a little."

He smiled at her engagingly,
"Is that better?"  He waited for a reaction and she obliged him with
a bright smile, a nod and a peck on his cheek.

As they were approaching the
mill, he asked, "Did you really wash and iron all those curtains for
me?"

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

Margaret's morning spells had
lessened considerably by the time John told her that the mill's dining hall was
finally finished, cleaned, and ready to be arranged and decorated.  He would
take her the next morning to meet with the women workers who intended to
arrange the tables and chairs that had been stacked up on one side of the
hall.  She woke up earlier than usual, had her tea and toast, dressed, and came
down with John to the dining room.  Mrs. Thornton heard them talking before
they came into the room and was therefore not surprised when Margaret appeared
and greeted her.

"You must be feeling better
from those spells," she remarked.  She had enjoyed the short time alone
with her son at breakfast and had not minded Margaret's absence.  Secretly, she
hoped for this morning routine to continue.  "Are you ready to come and
talk to the servants with me this morning?"

Smiling apologetically, Margaret
answered, "I am sorry.  May I prevail on your indulgence a while
longer?"

"Of course.  I don't
mind," she answered hesitatingly.  She looked at her son who calmly drank
his tea, his expression noncommittal, his eyes roaming between his wife and his
mother and resting, finally, on his wife.  Mrs. Thornton was dismayed, unable
to comprehend how he could calmly allow his wife so much freedom in deciding
when to assume her responsibility in his household.

"I am going with John this
morning to help some women workers set the dining hall up to be ready for use
when the mill reopens."

Mrs. Thornton stared at Margaret,
appalled, incredulous, and contemptuous all at the same time.  She had openly
questioned the usefulness of the dining hall when it first opened.  When she
heard from John about his plans to expand it so that it could accommodate
everyone, she had been very skeptical.  She had said nothing, however,
convincing herself, with some difficulty, to trust that her son knew what he
was doing.  She watched the rebuilding and knew that it had just been
completed.  Now, she was vexed, almost angry that Margaret chose to direct her
energy on a futile effort instead of on her proper responsibilities at home.

"Do they need your
help?"  She asked, hardly able to conceal a note of sarcasm in her voice.

"Probably not,"
Margaret said truthfully.

"Then, why do you
bother?"

Margaret, in fact, was not
certain why.  She had offered to help in the enthusiasm of the moment but now
she felt compelled to come up with a plausible reason and justify herself to
Mrs. Thornton.  "Well, I would like to learn about the mill and getting
acquainted with the workers while working with them decorating the dining hall
seems to me as good a way as any to start.  I thought it would help as well for
them to get to know me a little."

It was not the answer to convince
Mrs. Thornton; instead, it grated at her, unleashing her frustration at the son
who was slipping away from her.  "I cannot see how any of that would
help.  What could you gain from keeping company with the workers who will
always color the truth?  If you want to learn about the mill, watch the work
when it is running."

John, who had been quietly
sipping his tea, was growing more exasperated with his mother, and he turned
abruptly towards her.  He saw her staring with narrowed eyes and compressed
lips at Margaret who, though disconcerted for a moment, stared back with eyes
that began to gather fire.  John could not remain silent, "Mother, I agree
with my wife.  Besides, I believe she has some very good ideas to make the hall
a pleasant place."

Not having actually spoken to him
about her ideas, Margaret—eyes still flashing and a retort at the tip of her
tongue—looked quickly at John who, with a slight shake of his head, appealed
with his eyes for her to say nothing.  The exchange took but an instant or two
but she understood and nodded almost imperceptibly as she lowered her eyes
contritely.

"I never understood the need
for that dining hall," Mrs. Thornton insisted, frowning at her son and
shaking her head vehemently.

"I admit it is an experiment
but I hope it will eventually lessen strikes.  Nothing is ever guaranteed but
we must try new ideas."  He spoke calmly but evaded his mother's eyes.

He got up and turned to Margaret,
"We must go.  I have a lot of work waiting for me."

Margaret had wanted more
breakfast than her habitual tea and toast and hesitated a little but, catching
the impatience on John's face, she got up.  She glanced at Mrs. Thornton, who
stared sullenly at her.  Margaret shrugged and followed John to the door.

He paused before going out the
door.  "Mother, we can talk a little more this evening."

John hurried out of the house, a
scowl developing and deepening in his brow.  Just outside the house, Margaret
tugged at his arm, "Slow down, please, I cannot walk as fast as you
do."

He slowed his pace and grasped
her hand, "I'm sorry."

John said nothing more as he led
Margaret to the dining hall.  She glanced up at him and saw his eyes dark and
thoughtful beneath his furrowed brow.  He was clearly upset and Margaret opened
her mouth to ask him about it but decided it was an inopportune time.  He was
in no mood to talk and they had almost reached the dining hall.  It would have
to wait.  Still, she could not help suspecting that John's changing attitudes
towards workers had become a source of tension between Mrs. Thornton and her
son.  Margaret knew that the opposing views she and Mrs. Thornton had about
workers was a sore point between them and, to Mrs. Thornton, the expansion of
the dining hall meant that John was more inclined to side with Margaret.

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

Three women were already
unstacking chairs when they arrived.  The inside of the hall had been scrubbed
clean and smelled of soap.  Windows all around brought in as much natural light
as the smoky northern haze could dispense.

The women stopped what they were
doing to greet John and Margaret, "Good morning master, ma'am."

"Good morning," they
replied in unison.

He continued, "I would like
you to meet my wife.  She would like to help with decorating."

The three women were a little
wary, each one murmuring almost inaudibly, "How do you do, Mrs.
Thornton?" Their experience with the older Mrs. Thornton had not been
exactly pleasant; to them, she was a stern taskmaster who they hardly ever saw
smiling.  They did not know what to expect of Margaret and they wondered if she
would be as critical.  And yet, the young Mrs. Thornton with her pleasing open
face seemed as if she could break out into a smile at any moment.  They had
also heard that she had been a friend of the Higgins family, especially the
hapless Bessy Higgins, and that she had been sympathetic and kind to workers
when she first came to Milton.  But she did marry one of the mill owners and
the women were not certain what to make of her.

Margaret sensed their hesitation
and smiled engagingly.  "I do not believe myself to know much more about
making this hall more pleasant than you possibly could but I can provide
materials you would need—curtains, for example—from the mill and at its
expense, of course."

With that charming smile, that
sincere tone, and those words, the three women could not but be drawn in, at
least for the moment, by the handsome young wife of their master.  The oldest
of them replied, "That would be kind, ma'am."

"You might also think of
whitewashing the walls.  That would bring more light in here."  She turned
to John, "We should be able to get some white paint for a light wash,
don't you think?"

"Yes, easily.  I could get
one of the men to do the whitewashing."

The youngest of the three women,
about Margaret's age, volunteered enthusiastically, "I can help
whitewash.  I have done it before."

One of the older women chimed in,
"We should all be able to help."  She glanced surreptitiously at
Margaret's waist.  "All three of us, not young Mrs. Thornton, of course. 
We could finish the job in a day."

"Thank you.  I wouldn't be
up to doing that just now but, if you want those curtains, I could help hem
them."

John, seeing his workers warm up
to Margaret, took his leave.  "I have work to do as well."  He turned
to his wife, placed his arm around her shoulders, and walked to the door with
her.

Margaret peered at him closer. 
He appeared more relaxed but she wanted to be sure anyway, "Is anything
the matter?"

"Probably not.  I found the
conversation with my mother at breakfast a bit frustrating, that's all."

She nodded at him
sympathetically.

He pressed her hand to his lips,
"I'll see you this evening and we can talk then."

That evening, nobody brought up
the subject of the morning's conversation.  With everyone determined to be
agreeable by talking only about the changing weather and the dishes they were
being served, dinner proceeded pleasantly enough.

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

In their bedroom, John looked up
from reading the newspaper by the fireplace and addressed Margaret across the
room as she brushed her hair in front of the vanity, "I was uncertain how
the meeting with those women was going to turn out."

"Oh?  How so?"

"When I first told them you
were offering to help with decorating the hall, they all seemed suspicious and
not happy at all."

"I think I can understand
that.  Who would want the master's wife coming to tell them what to do?"

"It is certainly not
something any of the wives of my business associates would do."

"But your mother went to the
mill to keep an eye on the work so your workers should be accustomed to having
Thornton women "interfere"," she replied lightheartedly,
laughing at her use of the last word.

Her laugh brought on a faint
frown from John.  "It was different with my mother, as you probably know. 
Her focus had been, like mine, the efficient running of the mill."

She stopped brushing her hair and
turned towards him, "Well, perhaps, mine is, too, except I approach it
differently," she asserted equally irritably.

Detecting the annoyance in her
voice, he put his paper down and walked towards her as she turned her back to
him to face the mirror, "That is surely true.  If I can charm them and get
them to acquiesce as easily as you seem to have done with those women, I might
prevent some problems I have had with workers in the past."

"Deciding about curtains and
paint is a great deal simpler than dealing with workers problems."  She
put her brush down and got up.

He stood in front of her and
studied her face briefly.  He was getting used to that defiant expression.  It
had disconcerted him the first time he had contended with the conviction that
was behind it, firm opinions that she had no qualms asserting, opinions opposed
to his.  His own convictions were so strong that he was hopeless, initially,
that they could ever agree, especially when she had turned away looking just as
hopeless.  This time, conciliatory, he replied with a warm smile meant to coax
her out of her vexation, "Maybe so but you did effortlessly overcome the
distrust of those women."

She gave him her half-smile,
somewhat pacified, and walked past him towards the bed.  "I learned to
deal with different people in my father's vicarage.  I think it helps to listen
and talk to people in terms they can grasp and, if you meet in pleasant
circumstances, perhaps, you are more likely to talk and get to know each
other."

He caught her in his arms from
behind before she could reach the bed.  "That, I think, goes a long way
towards relieving distrust and maybe even bitterness."