Margaret of the North (42 page)

Margaret felt a pang of remorse
and with sincerity and warmth in her voice, said, "Please be assured that
you have my good wishes and that you always have this home to come back
to."

She smiled tremulously, gave Mrs.
Thornton a slight bow and strode out to the garden where her pace quickened. 
When she reached the gate, she stopped and took several deep breaths. 
Encounters with Mrs. Thornton always threw Margaret into a conflict of emotions
and while she thought she was learning to care less about the older woman's
good opinion, every new meeting involving only the two of them disturbed her
calm and sense of balance.  Margaret sat on the nearest bench and, noticing
that she still had the towel in one hand, busied herself once again with wiping
the charcoal off her hands.  After sitting for nearly half an hour, she got up
and walked slowly back to the house.  She could see through the window of the
studio that Mrs. Thornton had gone.  Margaret proceeded through the
conservatory and up to her daughter's room.

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

Elise was awake from her nap and
playing on Mary's lap.  The sight of her daughter had never yet failed to
lighten Margaret's spirit and she picked her up off of Mary's lap.  "Let's
go down to the conservatory, shall we, ma puce?" She smiled at Mary,
"Shall we go?"

Usually, that was all Margaret
said to Mary but this day, she felt she needed to be alone with her thoughts as
she played with her child.  So, she added, "Come with us if you have
nothing pressing to attend to, Mary.  Dixon can use your help in the kitchen, I
am sure, for that special dinner she is preparing for Mrs. Thornton."

Uncomplicated, unassuming Mary
understood what was expected of her.  She was loyal to Margaret and though not
as protective as Dixon—she would not know how to do so—just as affectionate and
acutely attuned to her mistress' moods and demeanor.  "Yes, Mrs.
Margaret.  I will be back before dinnertime."  She bowed and walked out of
the room ahead of Margaret.

It had gotten dark enough that
some gas lights in the hallways had already been lighted.  In the conservatory,
the waning sun still bathed the interior space with a faint orange cast and
imparted a residual warmth that Margaret found soothing.  She was glad to
escape the coolness in the rest of the house.  She sat on an armchair, her
daughter on her lap, and picked up a couple of toys from a basket of objects
accumulated to amuse Elise.  She handed one to Elise.  The child smiled, took
the object in both hands, examined it for a few moments and then placed it in
her mouth.

"No, no.  Dirty." 
Margaret shook her head and carefully pulled the toy from Elise's mouth but the
child only bit at it again as soon as her mother let go of it.  They went
through the same routine a few times until, finally, Margaret took the toy away
and gave Elise a hard biscuit to chew on before she could start crying.

Margaret watched her daughter
absentmindedly, her mind still preoccupied with the recent encounter with Mrs.
Thornton.  Acutely conscious that John held a very special place in his heart
for his mother, Margaret believed she should continue to attempt a deeper
reconciliation with Mrs. Thornton.  She reminded herself often of the mother
and son's shared history, both of failed and triumphant struggles that meant so
much to him, a history that she could never fully appreciate, much less share. 
The truth, however, was Margaret had yet to find a way to woo her strong-minded
mother-in-law.  Certainly, not the way she did Aunt Shaw who was not immune to
frivolities and was susceptible to appeals to both her affection and feminine
vanity.  Frank and sincere intercourse would go nowhere either.   Mrs. Thornton
was not in the habit of looking intimately into her feelings and analyzing her
beliefs and, even if she were so inclined, she would not choose to speak to
Margaret about anything revealing of herself.

Margaret had faith in the passage
of time, however.  She could easily recall those seemingly endless days of
grieving, right after her return to London on her father's death, when she felt
so numb and drained that she thought she would never recover.  But
time—precious reliable time—brought perspective, a lessening of pain, new
challenges that must be faced, and, finally, a renewal of the spirit.  So,
Margaret convinced herself to trust once again that time could eventually bring
with it some resolution.

"Perhaps, when Mrs. Thornton
returned after a few months away with Fanny, things would be different.  After
all, she did admit that what she said to me was hurtful and unfair." 

Elise turned her head towards her
mother at the sound of her voice and only then did Margaret realize she had
muttered audibly to herself.  "No, I was not talking to you.  In any case,
it is a start, don't you think?" 

She nudged her daughter's cheek
playfully, raised her on her feet, and tickled her stomach with her chin until
the child started giggling.

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

John found his wife and daughter
still at their little play when he came in.  He had heard their laughter,
punctuated by Elise squealing with delight, as soon as he entered the house. 

Margaret placed her daughter back
on her lap and looked up, still smiling broadly, "You're home very early
today.  It is probably not even five yet."

"About a quarter before.  I
am leaving for a few days tomorrow so I thought I'd come home early.  Was I
interrupting something?"  He asked, teasing.

John had insisted on accompanying
his mother to London, although Jane was going with her, partly to assuage her
apprehensions about traveling anywhere outside Milton and partly to reestablish
at least some of their former rapport.

Margaret got up to greet him with
a kiss.  Then she leaned against him and laid her head on his shoulder.  John
pulled her close with one arm and took his daughter with the other. 

He kissed Elise on the cheek and
his wife on her forehead, whispering,  "Are you going to miss me when I
leave for London?"

"Well, it will only be a
couple of days," she replied.  "But do you realize we have never been
apart even for a day since I came back to Milton with you?"

"I was thinking precisely
that as I was sitting at my desk, doing some accounting.  In the middle of all
that, I felt the urge to come home to you right away.  I took a cab, can you
imagine?"

She raised her head and kissed
him again.  "Let's go up to our room."

"Perhaps we can dine alone
in our sitting room?"

"I would have liked that
very much but Dixon got it into her head to do something festive tonight and
prepare your mother's favorite dishes."

"Ahh!"  He replied,
amused.  "I was not aware that Dixon liked my mother that much."

"You know Dixon and how much
pleasure she gets from seeing everyone enjoy her meals."

"Yes.  Lucky for me I have a
much longer walk to work."

Some late afternoon light
streamed into their sitting room, but a gas lamp on the wall had already been
lighted.  Margaret took Elise from John and placed her sitting up in her baby
playpen, gave her a rattle, teething beads and rag dolls. 

"She will play undisturbed
until nursing time.  Well, at least, I hope she does.  She gets more restless
when she is tired and wants attention."

"Leave her for now and come
over here."  John answered, taking her hand and pulling her gently towards
him as he sat on the couch opposite the crib.  He reached out with his other
arm and clasped her waist so she landed on his lap.  "This time, I take
care of you and you take care of me," he muttered, nibbling playfully at
her throat, then slowly up her chin and her mouth.

Margaret placed her arms on his
shoulders and laid her forehead against his.  She caressed his cheeks tenderly
and asked, her voice almost muffled, "How was your day?"

"Just the usual bustle but
otherwise as uneventful as it could possibly be."

"That is good, isn't
it?"

"Yes, of course.  We will
get a bit more hectic when some orders come due in a few weeks just as new ones
arrive.  I will have to hire a few more hands and I may also need a little help
in the office."

She planted a kiss on his lips
and got up off his lap but he held on to her hand.  "Where are you
going?"  He asked.

"I was going to ring for
tea."

"Not just yet.  Sit with me
awhile.  I am leaving early tomorrow before you're even up and I will not see
you for two days."

"It will only be one night
away."  Margaret sat down on the couch and nestled herself contentedly in
John's embrace.  They quietly watched their daughter at play for nearly half an
hour, occasionally laughing or briefly noting some little thing Elise did.

That night passed without
Margaret telling John about her encounter with Mrs. Thornton in the studio. 
She thought it did not serve a purpose, at least for the present.  Besides, it
would have required informing him first of the previous painful meeting in the
drawing room.

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

Mrs. Thornton left for London
with John just as Margaret was getting up.  He had gotten up earlier than usual
and, after a light kiss that hardly woke his sleeping wife, left the room
quietly.

Settled in their private
compartment a few minutes before the train was scheduled to leave, John saw the
anxiety in Mrs. Thornton's eyes and tried to reassure her.  "It is not a
long trip, mother.  These trains are safe and fast.  We will be in London
before noon."

Mrs. Thornton nodded but did not
answer.  She kept her eyes focused on what was passing outside her window—at
the people rushing everywhere on the platform as the train slowly chugged out
of the station; at the densest part of the city that appeared to her to go by
too quickly as the train picked up speed; at a landscape that increasingly
evolved from gray to green.  Mrs. Thornton grew more anxious. 

She broke her silence with a
brief remark.  "Why London for her lying-in?"

John, engrossed in reading the
Milton daily, looked up briefly.  "You will have to ask Fanny that." 
He was about to resume reading his paper but he put it down when he saw his
mother's still apprehensive countenance.  "Try to relax, mother.  You may
find London quite diverting and I am sure Fanny will be all right."

"I have no desire to see
London.  I cannot imagine anything there of interest to me.  I am going only
because Fanny needs me."

"Can I do something to make
this trip more comfortable for you?"

"No.  It will have to end at
some point.  Go back to your paper.  I will survive."

John nodded, smiled calmly and
returned to his paper.  He looked up from time to time, smiling in the same way
whenever he caught her attention.  The train ride to London was relatively
uneventful but Mrs. Thornton remained uneasy  and she sat opposite her son,
worried and silent through most of the trip.

They arrived at Watson and
Fanny's apartment in time for a long leisurely luncheon, after which Fanny
showed Mrs. Thornton to her room.  There, pleading fatigue, she stayed to
rest.  Shortly thereafter, John left the Watson home for Harley Street.  He was
staying with Edith and Captain Lennox until his return to Milton Sunday
afternoon.  Watson and Fanny had initially planned to put him up in a hotel. 
With only four bedrooms and Mrs. Thornton staying with them, Fanny told him
there was not enough room in the apartment for all of them.  But a short letter
from Margaret to Edith had produced an immediate reply. 

Edith, in her usual effusive
style, declared that they were always welcome and, in fact, she would be
offended if either or both of them came to London and did not stay with them at
Harley Street.  Captain Lennox could not wait to renew his acquaintance with
the fascinating Mr. Thornton, and that she, herself, was keen to hear
first-hand accounts of her cousin and her goddaughter.

John did not return home until
way past dinner time on Sunday.  Margaret had waited to have dinner with him in
the sitting room where he found her curled up on the couch, her eyes closed and
her fingers entwined together on top of an open book.  For a long moment, he
stood gazing lovingly at her before he took the book gently from under her
hands and laid it on the table.  He kissed her lightly, trying not to wake her
up.  When he bent down to pick her up and carry her to bed, Margaret opened her
eyes and greeted him with a smile, her eyes half-closed and glazed from sleep.

"What time is it?  Have you
had dinner?" She asked, rising from her reclining position and sitting up.

"It is way past eleven.  I
am sorry to be so late.  I missed my train and came in on the last trip back to
Milton.  Did you wait to have dinner with me?"

"Yes but don't worry about
it.  I am too sleepy for dinner anyway.  I can ring for a glass of milk."

"Let me go and get you
some.  No need to wake any of the servants up.  I could use a glass
myself."

When John returned from the
kitchen with two glasses of milk on a tray, the lights in the sitting room had
been turned off and Margaret was in her dressing room changing.  He went into
the bedroom and deposited the tray on the table in front of the fireplace.  He
had had a long day and he was exhausted.  Plopping himself on the nearest
armchair, he took off his vest and jacket, peeled off his cravat and unbuttoned
the top of his shirt. 

Before long, Margaret entered the
room in her robe and nightgown and sat on the opposite chair.  She smiled at
him and picked up a glass of milk.  They each sipped milk, quietly and slowly,
listening to the crackle of the fireplace and occasionally exchanging glances
across the table.  They did not talk and took care not to make any noise that
would disturb the silence around them.  When they finished and  still with nary
a word, they went to bed.  John turned off the lamp by his bedside, kissed
Margaret good night, and gathered her close in his arms as they both sank into
a deep dreamless slumber.