Margaret of the North (46 page)

To the crowd, it was a spectacle
that most of them did not often see.  They were accustomed to only catching
glimpses of the mill owners' families peeking out of their carriages  or seeing
them from some distance.  It was a distance rarely crossed and it was not so
much physical as it was social.

The Christmas Eve festivity was
generosity unheard of for mill owners and, for the master's family to join
their workers in the celebration was quite inconceivable.  To the workers,
having the Thorntons at the festivity signified something more.  How
extraordinary, many of them thought, to stand so near to the master's wife that
one could extend one's hand and not expect the young Mrs. Thornton to recoil
from it.  From what they had heard, she would probably grasp the offered hand
and shake it.  But no one tried.

For masters and hands to mix in
social situations was entirely unimaginable but, in paying for a holiday dinner
and gifts for all workers and their families, Marlborough Mills was breaking
taboos.  John's colleagues did not like it at all.  Most objected because they
thought, as the older Mrs. Thornton did, that it was a concession to workers
that would surely be followed by more impossible demands and, consequently, by
strikes if the demand was not met.  The talk stirred by the dinner went beyond
the mill owners to their families who looked down with disdain at any form of
interaction with hands outside the mills and were, thus, contemptuous of the
Thorntons for breaking class barriers.

Since marrying John Thornton,
Margaret Hale provoked great curiosity.  Gossip about her circulated among the
mostly idle families of manufacturers, fed by juicy bits from servants who
embellished what they heard from servants in the Thornton and Watson
households.  Acutely alert to how British society of landed gentry and noble
classes looked down on manufacturers and tradesmen, most in this nouveau riche
group found Margaret Thornton perplexing. 

She was clearly a young woman who
bore all the graces of a gentleman's daughter, apparent in the proud turn to
her head when she moved, in how she spoke or chose her words and in the refined
manners that could seem haughty on first acquaintance.  They knew she had rich
connections with whom she had lived for some time in London and it was rumored
that her mother, a former Miss Beresford, had some noble ancestry. 
Unfortunately, the parents of Miss Beresford had lived beyond their means and
died leaving their two very young daughters dependent on the kindness and
charity of relatives.  To his credit, the oldest brother of Miss Beresford's
mother, an uncle who had inherited the family land and title, proved to be fair
and generous and the two girls grew up as his wards.

Milton's rich manufacturing
families had expected Margaret to thumb her nose on the working class but they
were appalled when she, instead, demonstrated a vexing independence of mind and
did quite the opposite.  At the last dinner party given by the older Mrs.
Thornton, those who were there heard her unabashedly confess to a friendship
with the now-dead daughter of Nicholas Higgins, a committed and outspoken union
representative.  She admitted just as frankly that she helped workers' families
with baskets of food during the strike, as if it was the most natural course of
action for anyone to take.  John Thornton, in a rebuke that started mildly and
ended in subdued anger, asserted that helping workers prolonged the strike and
consequently, the suffering of their families. 

That was more than three years
ago.  Much had happened since then, including one that surprised nearly
everyone and inevitably caused consternation in many young women.  John
Thornton married the very woman who had defied what he believed in and openly
challenged the reasoning for his beliefs.  Even so, this unexpected marriage
was merely fodder for malicious gossip among the manufacturers' families and
something Mr. Thornton's colleagues could ridicule him about behind his back.

What worried manufacturers the
most were changes that had been instituted at Marlborough Mills since its
reopening.  It proved to many of his business colleagues that John Thornton had
been influenced by his wife's revolutionary views.  They did not think Margaret
had any direct hand in mill operations—nobody needed convincing that Thornton
always had full control of his mill and as a Southerner, his wife was ignorant
of the processes involved in the manufacture and sale of cotton—but they did
believe she was instrumental to the change in John Thornton's attitudes towards
his workers.  In this belief, they did not differ much from Mrs. Thornton and
like her, many criticized Margaret, a foreigner from the south.  So, it was on
her that they placed much of the blame for the Christmas celebration, a blame
they dared not voice to John Thornton.

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

The arrival of the Thorntons
enlivened a crowd eagerly awaiting the beginning of this first attempt at
bringing together, for a holiday celebration, two classes often at odds with
each other.  Most came for the free dinner and gifts but among these, many were
also prepared to enjoy the camaraderie they anticipated from sharing a holiday
dinner with people they often met only at work.  Festivities began as soon as
the Thorntons had settled themselves on chairs by the laden Christmas tree. 
For about a half hour gifts were distributed to the children first by Margaret
with John's help and, later, by young Thomas Boucher who Margaret spotted in
the crowd, beckoned over, and asked to read out names while she and John handed
out the brightly-wrapped packages.  Most of the younger children tore open
their gifts without prompting, impatient to see what surprise lay inside the
packages.

Before long, the concatenation of
children's voices drowned out the hum of adult conversations as the children
played or showed off gifts to their parents and friends.  Two little girls,
however, were more curious about Elise than about their gifts and they
approached her shyly, keeping a safe distance.  By then, wide-eyed and babbling
incessantly, Elise sat on her mother's lap, watching all the activity around
her.  Margaret smiled at the two girls.  That was all one of them needed to
induce her to come nearer.

"What are you saying?" 
She asked Elise whose eyes darted after the children all around the room.

Margaret answered.  "She is
too young and cannot yet talk like you but she has her own way of saying what
she wants to say."

"Will she learn to talk like
me?"

"Yes, she will.  She is
listening to us all the time and soon she will learn to talk like we do."

The child's mother came and
tugged at her child's hand, "Susan, do not bother the mistress.  I am
sorry Mrs. Thornton."

"It is all right.  Susan was
not bothering us.  I like talking to her and Elise seems to enjoy having her
around.  How old are you Susan?"

Susan raised her five fingers far
apart.  Then she asked, "Your little girl's name is Elise?"

"Yes."  Margaret beamed
at her.  "You are a smart little girl to pick up on that."

The second little girl, who had
stood back, took a few steps towards them, glancing up at Margaret with every
step, shy but alert to signs of disapproval.  Margaret smiled at her
encouragingly and the little girl continued to approach.  Before long, a few
more curious children joined them, gradually drawn into talking to the lady who
brought them gifts and asking questions about her pretty blonde baby.  The
lively chatter of young children inevitably drew the older children and soon a
minor commotion developed around Elise who babbled and squealed in delight at
the flurry of activity around her.

The adults, at first concerned
about bothering and offending their master's young family, attempted to
restrain their children.  But, they saw that Margaret not only did not seem to
mind, she beckoned the children over with smiles and kind looks.  She asked
them questions, answered theirs simply and frankly, and encouraged them to talk
to one another.  So, the parents left their children alone.  Later, after
handing Elise over to Mary, she read to them from the picture books that some
of the children received as gifts.  She stopped after one page and, once again,
motioned for Thomas to sit next to her and read the rest of the story to the
other children.

Nicholas Higgins, who was engaged
in lively conversation with John and a few other workers, watched Thomas with
pride and said, "It was Mrs. Margaret who taught Thomas and the other
children to read but Thomas is a bright one and caught on quickly.  Now, he is
teaching his brothers and sisters."

The lively informality of the
gathering continued until Marian, who supervised the preparation of dinner,
announced that it was ready to be served and everyone claimed a place at one of
the tables.  When all were seated, conversations were momentarily hushed as
Marian opened the boxes Margaret had asked Williams to bring in.  Propped up on
trivets placed on the middle of each table, they served as the centerpiece.  Each
contained a large Christmas cake—covered with creamy white frosting and adorned
with green and red candied cherries—that Dixon had baked for the Christmas
dinner.  As the cakes were lifted out of the well-secured boxes, they filled
the room with the aromas of citrus, cloves, and brandy.  Remarks about the
beautiful cakes and their aromas restored the vibrant buzz of conversations and
dinner proceeded, animated even more by the feast.

The first festive dinner at
Marlborough Mills lasted nearly three hours.  The Thorntons thought the expense
and effort it took had all been worthwhile, judging from the camaraderie
evident at every table, the smiles and the mumbled "thank yous" they
received from workers who ordinarily shied away from talking to John, the short
speeches Nicholas Higgins and the overseers gave when the cake was served, and
the continuing conversation among workers who lingered around the Dining Hall
long after the celebration was over.  It would not be realistic to assume that
everyone came away from the festivities with goodwill towards the Thorntons.  A
good number had come for the dinner and the gifts for the children but had
remained skeptical of the Thorntons' intent.  They feared that the celebration
was a clever but underhanded ploy to blunt the motives for, or increase the
workers' qualms about, going on strike in the future.

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

Later that night, John and
Margaret retired into the solace of their sitting room.  They had put Elise to
bed together, finished a light supper in the dining room and dismissed the
household help early to enjoy their own Christmas Eve dinner.  Dixon had
protested that her master and mistress ate too little of the Christmas repast
she had lovingly prepared.  Margaret had to convince her that they had sampled
a little from every dish and found each one excellent but that they were truly
full from the dinner earlier at the mill where they had partaken of the
Christmas cake that Dixon had baked for the occasion.  Margaret firmly ended
any further discussion with an order that the rest of the household should all
sit down together and enjoy a Christmas dinner of very special dishes.  Then,
to assuage Dixon's hurt feelings further, she said more mildly, "This
dinner is a wonderful gift you have given the whole household: Not only to us
but also to all of you who serve us."

Dixon grumbled but ordered a
servant to set the long wooden table in the kitchen, cover it with a fresh
white tablecloth, dress it with candle lights and a big crystal bowl of apples
and oranges and gather the household staff for a festive meal.  If a Christmas
dinner was indeed her gift, she was determined to offer it in the most elegant
way she could.

John and Margaret ascended their
chambers after asking for after-dinner drinks to be served in their sitting
room just as the staff was gathering in the kitchen for dinner.  Margaret was
tired and burdened more than usual by the various layers of street dress that
she had worn all day.  She headed straight to her dressing room, changed into a
nightgown and robe, released her luxuriant hair from restraining clips and
pins, draped a shawl over her robe for extra warmth and returned to the sitting
room.

A tray with cups, a carafe of
mulled wine, and a plate of decorated biscuits had been laid on the table,
waiting to be served.  John sat on an armchair by the fireplace, reading a
newspaper.  Margaret took the armchair opposite, the same one where weeks ago
she had shed copious tears.  She felt at peace this Christmas night.  The
events of the day had lifted her spirits and had seemed to her the rewarding
conclusion of the cleansing process that started with her tears. 

Her face was aglow from the fire
burning in the hearth and her eyes were lighted from within as she gazed at her
husband.  She waited for a few moments until he looked up from the paper.  He
regarded her for a long moment, captivated by her beauty the way he had been on
their first night together and on other nights thereafter.  She looked at him
with eyes large and brilliant from barely subdued agitation and sensuous lips
parted tremulously from anticipation—he wanted to believe—of his kisses.  He
laid his paper aside beside the tray and smiled one of those smiles that
brightened his eyes.

"I can see you are ready for
a drink," she said smiling back at him, her voice quivering a little.  She
got up and poured mulled wine into one cup.  She was conscious that he watched
her closely and she could feel his eyes on her very skin.  A wave of warmth
coursed through her bosom and down her whole body, infusing her cheeks with a
rosy blush.  She averted her eyes when they met his as she handed him a cup. 
She was momentarily confused, then amused at her confusion.  They had been
married nearly two years and he still had the power to make her blush deeply
when he looked at her like that.