Margaret of the North (30 page)

"Something is bothering
you," he remarked as he turned on his back, crossed his arms under his
head and gave her his full attention.

She regarded him for another long
moment.  "I have been thinking that a home next to the mill is not really
the best place to bring up children."

"Yes?"

"I know that the mill means
so much to you.  But………"

"But………?"

"I want my children to see
that life has more to offer besides making cotton, that there is a great big
world out there for them to discover.  If they choose to do something
different, they should know that they are free to do so."

"So?"

"So, I want us to find a
house outside of this compound, away from the mill."

"Is that the only reason you
want to live away from the mill?"

"Is that not enough?  But,
truthfully, no.  The noise and the continuous bustle do bother me most
days."

He sat up next to her, "It
took you longer than I predicted to bring this matter up."

"What do you mean?  You're
not angry with me, are you, for telling you frankly what I think?"

"Angry?  No!  I have been
waiting for you to say something about this."

She stared at him, surprised. 
"You have?  Well, I must admit I have thought and agonized about it a long
time, uncertain how I should tell you.  I did not want you to think I was
unhappy here in a place and a way of life which you have spent so much time and
effort building."

He placed a hand under her chin,
lifting her face as he gazed into her eyes.  "I have a couple of houses I
want you to look at.  You might like one of them."  He wanted to relish
the way her large blue eyes widened and brightened when he made this
revelation.

"Do you mean to tell me that
you have gone to find another house for us to live in?"

"I suspected that was what
you wanted when we got married but you said nothing.  Then, when you became
pregnant, I was certain we needed to live somewhere else because I knew this is
not exactly the sort of place you would want to raise children in.  But still,
you said nothing.  So I took the initiative to inquire about houses in other
neighborhoods."

"Oh, John!"  She threw
her arms around his neck and buried her face on his shoulders.  It was harder
for her now to cuddle up close to him but John pulled her up sideways from the
bed onto his lap and held her close.  He felt warm tears on his neck.

"I can take you anytime soon
to see these houses."  He murmured against her forehead.

She rubbed her eyes with the back
of her hand.  "In my condition?"

"Why, yes.  I was getting
ready to tell you about them because the owners can only hold the houses for us
for so long and we must decide soon."

"I must confess that this
was something I never expected.  You are too good to me."  Her voice was
muffled against his neck.

"Self-interest, that is
all.  I thought that if I kept you happy, you would keep me happy, too." 
He replied, teasing, as more happy tears came.

Finally she lifted her face and
dried her face on the sleeve of her nightgown.  Then with her hand, she wiped
off the moisture her tears had left on his neck.  "The mill has been your
life and I was afraid that it would seem inconceivable to you to live away from
it."

"True.  It had been my life
but now I have you and another little creature in here."  He bent down to
kiss her belly.  "My world has opened up to so many things beyond this
mill."

"But you have given me at
least as much, if not more!"  She exclaimed, snuggling back into his
embrace."

"You came back to Milton
with me and I know it is not where you would have chosen to live."

"No, not on my own.  But
returning with you is the best decision I ever made."  She raised her head
to face him.  "Can we go and see the houses today?"

"Yes, of course, although we
need to make an appointment with the owners to go in."

"But what about your
mother?  We should talk to her about this."

"Well, her needs will
certainly figure strongly in our choice of a house but this decision to move
and where is mine and yours, not hers.  Anyway, I believe I owe us a house of
our own, one that you can arrange to your tastes."

"But it won't look like this
house," she said.

"If you arrange it like your
house in Crampton, it will be cozy and inviting.  That is all I need."

That evening, Mrs. Thornton began
the conversation at dinner with a remark directed at her son, "You should
not be taking Margaret out in her condition.  It's rather cold out and,
besides, it's just not done during a woman's confinement."

Margaret was somewhat annoyed
that Mrs. Thornton did not address her about a matter concerning herself.  But
she held her tongue and concentrated on slathering butter on a piece of bread.

"Mother, Dr. Donaldson said
that that is a decision Margaret makes.  She can do whatever she feels capable
doing."  Then looking at Margaret with an impish grin, he added, "And
I am rather proud showing off my pot-bellied wife."

Margaret grinned back at him. 
Mrs. Thornton glanced at Margaret and scowled, "What was so important out
there anyway that you would brave nearly freezing temperatures to go out?"

Margaret answered in as jaunty a
tone as she could manage, "It was sunny all day so I was warm enough and
actually enjoyed being out."

"But in your
condition?"

Margaret chose to ignore her
implication, "Dr. Donaldson advised exercise as long as I am
capable."

Certain that Margaret was
dissimulating, Mrs. Thornton merely nodded and compressed her lips.  She was,
by now, convinced that, ruled by her own convictions, Margaret was less
attentive to convention than any other young woman she knew and resistant to
advice about proper decorum.  But apart from her disapproval of Margaret
gallivanting while in confinement, Mrs. Thornton had an inkling that something
else of consequence was afoot and it would explain why Margaret and John were
out in the dead of winter.  She had to find out somehow what it was.

John had, in fact, anticipated
his mother's suspicions and decided it was the right time to bring up the
subject of moving.  "If you must know, Mother, we were out looking at
homes.  With a growing family and children, we decided that we must find a
house in another neighborhood."

As he expected, his mother was
taken aback, "And what is going to happen to this house?  Isn't it big
enough?  With Fanny married, we now have three unused bedrooms and an extra
sitting room."

"There is no room on the
mill yard where children can safely play and we prefer a neighborhood where
there are other children.  We will try to sell this house or put it up for
lease."

Mrs. Thornton wanted to protest
further and insist that she would rather remain in the house but this news
perturbed her into silence.  As she ate her dinner, she wondered whether she
could still persuade her son to reconsider.  But she told herself sadly, her
hold on him had diminished.  She glanced surreptitiously, resentfully, at Margaret
who had lapsed into silence, her attention shifting between her dinner and what
John was saying.  Mrs. Thornton was convinced it was Margaret who had wanted to
move.

Underneath her attempts at
civility, Mrs. Thornton occasionally felt more incensed than glad that Margaret
came back.  She had reasons enough to do so since the day the mill reopened
when, because of Margaret, she was left unhappily alone on a very important
evening.  Barely home from the mill, on that reopening day, John left with
Margaret for something pertaining to his wife.  At first, Mrs. Thornton was
confused and did not comprehend why they were leaving.  Then, she was dismayed
to find herself alone, hurt that she had been deprived of rejoicing with her
son on a triumph that she felt was as much hers as his.  Did such moments not
belong to her as well for all that she had done—the sacrifices, the support,
and the knowledge she had imparted to him that helped him build the mill?  All
she could think of then, as now, was Margaret was the reason for her
unhappiness.  Forgotten, that evening, was the gratitude she owed Margaret for
having spared John long years of hard work in order to regain his fortune and
the joy she and Margaret shared watching the reopening of the mill earlier that
day.

All that mattered now to Mrs.
Thornton was the mill.  It had become the focus of her life since John acquired
a wife who had taken over all the hundred little things she used to do for
him.  Everything about the mill had meaning for her, soothed her, reminded her
every day of how much her son had achieved.  It fed her maternal pride and
rewarded her for all the work and sacrifice she had done for her son. 

A home next to the mill had been
her idea to which John had acquiesced and she had taken for granted that she
would always live there.  Since its reopening, her visits to the mill became
more frequent and regular and she considered them as the most satisfying and
productive part of her day.  Living next door was certainly convenient.  She
did not waste time getting to it and she could also observe what was going on
from her window.  Her observations, her suggestions had all been helpful to
John—at least, until the mill closed for want of funds.

John had changed.  He rarely
asked his mother now for her advice and opinion.  Mrs. Thornton clenched her
jaw and scowled unhappily, no longer certain that the mill meant to John what
it did to her.  Her mind and heart revolted against the move but she was
powerless to prevent it.  A profound gloominess took hold of her and she felt
like she had suddenly aged, a feeble old woman, cast aside and helpless.

John and Margaret finally settled
on a house in a neighborhood where some of John's business associates with
young families lived.  While somewhat larger to accommodate a growing family,
it was not as imposing as the one they were leaving.  Its ceilings were lower
and windows all around the enclosing walls made its rooms airier and sunnier. 
Two suites of rooms on the same side of the two upper floors overlooking the
backyard each included a large bedroom, a bathroom and a sitting room—all
flanking hallways that could be closed off for greater privacy.  The suite on
the lower floor was to be taken by Mrs. Thornton, the upper one by John and
Margaret.  A fairly large backyard with a garden would be redone to include a
small playground for children.  The purchase of the house was finalized the
month Margaret was expected to deliver but the move was postponed until repairs
and renovations were completed.

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

On a spring day a couple of weeks
after they bought their new house, John saw Dr. Donaldson from the window of
his office rushing through the mill yard, followed close behind by Mary. 
Somewhat alarmed and irritated that he had not been called earlier, he hurried
out of the office and ran towards the house.  He saw his mother calmly working
on her needlework in the drawing room.

"I just saw Dr. Donaldson go
into the house.  Is it Margaret?  Why was I not sent for right away?"

"It was your headstrong wife
who insisted on not bothering you until it was certain that she was about to
deliver.  She has been having pains since you left this morning but agreed to
have the doctor come only when I said I was quite anxious about her."

"You should have sent
someone to fetch me when you called for Dr. Donaldson," he snarled at his
mother as he ran up the stairs.

Mrs. Thornton was left with an
angry retort that never found words as John disappeared up the stairs.

John heard Dr. Donaldson's
muffled voice from outside the bedroom door as he opened it.  Margaret was
propped up on the bed, her mouth open as she breathed through it, her attention
concentrated on Dr. Donaldson whose hypnotic voice directed her over and over,
"In, out, in, out, in, out………"

Dixon was there, too, occasionally
wiping Margaret's face with a folded towel.  No one heard him come in and he
stood rooted in place, somewhat bewildered, feeling like a spectator watching a
tableau from which he had been deliberately excluded.

"It's over," Margaret
panted as she slowly relaxed her shoulders, her breathing becoming more
regular.  Both Dr. Donaldson and Dixon seemed to relax as well.  Margaret saw
John standing just in front of the door and she reached her hands out to him. 
This gesture jolted John out of his trance-like state.

"Margaret, my love," he
cried, hurrying to her.  He took her hand and pressed it to his lips.  He sat
down on the side of the bed, leaned over, and gathered her in his arms.

"The contractions are coming
between 5 to 10 minutes so it should not be long now," he heard Dr.
Donaldson say.

John turned to him and asked,
"Can I stay here with her?"

"For now, yes, but I will
have to ask you to leave when she is ready.  But are you sure you can stand
seeing her when she's in pain?"

John was uncertain, confused and
he directed questioning, apologetic eyes at Margaret.  She smiled wanly at him
and he thought she looked as young and vulnerable as she did on their first
night together but, now, she was pale, her large eyes a little frightened, her
face glistening with sweat, "Oh, my love, I did not mean to put you
through all this," he cried remorsefully.

She gripped his hand and pleaded,
"Stay with me a little longer."

"For as long as you need
me."  He pressed her hand to his lips once again and addressed Dr.
Donaldson, "Is there nothing you can do for her pain?"

"She will be all right. 
Believe it or not, it is best that I do not sedate her.  Your wife is quite
young and healthy, Thornton, and this is a process many women like her go
through without any problem."

John wiped the perspiration off
his wife's moist face with his hand.  Then he took the towel Dixon handed him
and, unmindful of everyone else, whispered words of love to her as he dabbed
her face with the towel.  For a while, this calmed Margaret who now seemed
under the spell of his voice; but soon she began to grimace in pain.