Margaret of the North (50 page)

"I wanted to talk to you
about the medical clinic.  I think it is wonderful and noble of you to agree to
serve in this clinic at half your usual fee.  I hear from everyone that you are
quite busy, much sought after."

Dr. Hartley replied with a slight
frown at the meaning implied in John's remark.  "Not that busy.  I do have
the time and it is the right thing to do to offer medical care where work poses
health hazards."

A fleeting scowl now crossed
John's brow at the doctor's riposte but he ignored it.  "My wife, as you
know, is extremely grateful to you and, on her request, I have put some men to
work on preparing clinic space for you next to my office.  It will be used for
nothing else."

"That is very generous
considering that I will only be opening the clinic twice a week."

"Margaret—my wife, that
is—hopes to be able to find more people to help.  I believe she is thinking you
could train someone to provide other services that would not absolutely nor
immediately require a doctor."

"Mrs. Thornton is a rather
remarkable woman, Mr. Thornton."

"My mother?  Do you think so? 
In what way?"

Dr. Hartley stared at John,
surprised and unable to respond right away.  He suspected that his host knew
exactly who he was referring to but had chosen to appear to misunderstand his
meaning.  He answered self-consciously and with a blush, "I meant
Margaret, your wife."

"Oh, Mrs. Margaret
Thornton!  Yes, I have been uncommonly fortunate."  John smiled broadly
and looked at the doctor for a long moment, his eyes steady, inscrutable. 
Then, he continued, "Still, there is a thing or two my remarkable wife can
learn about Milton folk."

Dr. Hartley, somewhat
disconcerted by John's response to his comment about Margaret, regarded him
earnestly.  John smiled, his eyes now twinkling with mirth.  "Oh, nothing
too serious.  In fact, anyone not from around here, could learn from what I am
about to suggest that you do."

"Should we not ask Mrs.
Thornton, your wife, that is, to be here to hear this?"

"We should," John said
as he turned in the direction of the conservatory where the chatter of children
was drowning out the voices of Margaret and Edith.  "But she is quite busy
at the moment, I'm afraid.  I can talk to her later.  I see her all the time
but I may not have another chance to talk to you again for a while."

Dr. Hartley could only nod and
acquiesce.  John explained that it was necessary to charge a fee, even a very
nominal one, for the medical services the doctor would provide.  Milton
citizens would expect to do so.  Otherwise, they would question and would
neither appreciate nor even respect the doctor's skills and knowledge.  It was
a peculiarity of the local character that needed to be observed.  The assistant
he would train did not need to charge and those services would be paid for
completely through mill profits.  Dr. Hartley did not question John's
suggestion—in any case, it sounded more like a command—and the two of them
proceeded to discuss what constituted a nominal fee and when the clinic should
start.

John ended their discussion with
a parting comment.  "Of course, all that we've talked about is tentative. 
The final decisions on this rest with my wife.  After all, this is her project
although it is essentially a service to Marlborough Mills.  I expect she will
talk to you about final plans."

Dr. Hartley left the party
feeling discontented.  He had expected the pleasure of talking to Margaret
again.  But he had neither been able to do so nor even to see much of Margaret
after her initial welcome and expression of thanks for coming and bringing a
gift.  It was clear to him what John Thornton had communicated without actually
saying a word about it.  If he had any hope at all that Margaret might cast an
interested eye at him, he knew Mr. Thornton would be there, vigilant, dashing
any hopes he might have had.  He could not help wondering if she had some
inkling of how he felt about her.  If John Thornton could see it, she probably
could, too.  More than anything, it was this thought that depressed him. 
Margaret, though gracious, had always been decorous and even formal in her
manner with him and she clearly adored her husband and child.  With a sigh, Dr.
Hartley told himself to be resigned to admiring the young Mrs. Thornton only in
silence.

That night, Margaret remarked as
she and John were getting into bed.  "I am exhausted from attending to all
those children.  Two or three I can manage but more than a dozen with half of
them below five years old is quite a lot of work."

"Would you do it
again?"

She laughed, "Why, of
course.  It does not follow that if it is exhausting, it is not enjoyable.  I
cannot do what teachers do daily with a roomful of them but an occasional party
for children has its rewards."

"My remarkable wife!" 
He chuckled, kissing her forehead, drawing her close as she snuggled in his
arms.

"What is so remarkable about
exhausting myself, trying to make 20 children happy?"

"Dr. Hartley thinks so
although he did say it on account of the medical clinic."

"You took up all of the good
doctor's time when he was here.  I looked in on you briefly in the drawing room
and you two looked quite absorbed in serious conversation."

"Why did you not come in and
join us?"

"I could not leave Edith
alone with so many children and, anyway I only had a moment to spare. 
Actually, a few of the young mothers complained to me that you had taken him
away and you made a few of them unhappy.  They wanted to talk with him as
well.  It seems Dr. Hartley is quite the ladies' man.  What could you two have
been talking about?"

"The medical clinic, of
course.  I told him about the rooms we were preparing for the clinic." 
John went on to recount nearly all that he and Dr. Hartley talked about except
for their brief repartée about her.

"I think a nominal fee is a
good idea.  It shows responsibility over the care of their health." 
Margaret agreed when he finished.  "But what if someone who needs a
doctor's care cannot pay?"

"I thought about
that."  John answered thoughtfully.  "Perhaps, we can set up a way
for that person to pay gradually.  I imagine we will pay the doctor's fees no
matter what.  The nominal fees can go into a reserve fund from which they can
borrow.  I should talk to Henry Lennox.  He is getting quite a reputation in
financial circles and now spends half his time here since his marriage.  We
could have him look through your plans for the medical clinic."

"A reserve fund seems a good
idea and talking to Henry would probably help.  When do you suppose we can
start the clinic?"

"I imagine in about a couple
of months.  The workers are putting up a wall for the doctor's examining room. 
Then, there is clean-up and after that medical equipment can be brought
in."

"I have a list of medical
furniture and supplies but I have to ask Dr. Donaldson where to order
them."

"Well, then, it seems you
are about to have your medical clinic."

Margaret wound her arms around
him and laid her head on his shoulder, "You are a treasure and I should
thank Hannah for raising you the way she did."

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

Not too long after, Margaret
found someone eager to train as a nurse under Dr. Hartley.  Catherine, younger
sister of the governess of a neighbor's children, was seeking employment.  She
had initially sought work as a governess like her sister but jumped at the
opportunity of learning some new skills and helping the handsome young American
doctor.  In fact, Margaret discovered that many a young daughter of John's
colleagues would have seized an opportunity to work side by side with the
universally admired doctor if they did not think it beyond their dignity to
work.

Catherine was sturdily built and
plainly dressed but quite lady-like in bearing and manner, her pretty features
not easily evident, masked by freckles on an otherwise clear skin and by the
way she pulled her straight reddish hair back in a tight bun.  It did not help
her looks that her intelligent eyes focused, hawk-like, on the person she was
talking to but Margaret thought it gave her an air of being purposeful and
efficient.  Margaret interviewed her one afternoon in John's office, liked her
immediately, and, after a half-hour, knew she was right for the job.  Although
the final decision rested on Dr. Hartley, Margaret, by now acknowledging her
influence on the doctor, did not doubt that Catherine was as good as hired.

Curious about Catherine's
origins, Margaret engaged her in casual conversation when she finished with
questions pertaining to the job.  She learned that Catherine was Irish and her
father, finding a better-paying job, moved his family to England when she was a
child.  Her father had an older brother who inherited the family farm that he
tended with his own family and two energetic spinster sisters who Catherine
talked about with both pride and indulgence.  Catherine liked talking to Mr.
Thornton's wife, barely two years older than she.  She knew that Margaret
Thornton had already gained some notoriety within the gossiping families of
manufacturers for her southern ways and origins and her exertions on behalf of
workers.  The young Mrs. Thornton, she also knew, received the greater part of
the blame for what they saw as the change in Mr. Thornton.  The two women both
parted from their meeting with a desire to further their acquaintance.

Something quite significant
happened in the third year of John and Margaret's married life, at least in
Margaret's reckoning.  It started out full of pleasant little surprises when
they decided to celebrate the end of their two years together with a short trip
to Helstone and the Southampton coast as spring was giving way to summer.  They
could not agree, at first, about whether to leave Elise at home in the care of
Mary and Dixon or take Elise and Dixon with them.

"It will be all right to
leave her here.  It is only a week, after all.  What harm could happen?" 
John asserted.

"I don't know but I cannot
help feeling uneasy about it."  Margaret looked hesitant.

"Did you not tell me that
you rely on Dixon's general good judgment and that she helped your mother care
for you and Frederick?"

"I have no doubt Dixon will
be solicitous, as will Mary so I am not certain exactly why I am apprehensive. 
I just am."  Margaret lapsed into thoughtful silence, recalling the misery
of being taken away from everything she was attached to and was familiar with
when, at age nine, she first went to London to live with Edith and Aunt Shaw. 
She was arguably older then and understood the reasons she was sent away. 
Still, those reasons were never enough to console her those first few weeks of
crying herself to sleep.  More upsetting in her experience, however, was
watching the Boucher children, at least three of whom were below five years of
age, after their mother just died.

She resumed, "Perhaps, I am
still haunted by the Boucher children.  They cried for days when their mother
died.  They were too young to know what death was, but seemed to realize that
she was not coming back.  But they asked for her, anyway.  Nothing I could do,
that anyone tried to do, could console them.  It was heartrending."

"But, my love, those were
different circumstances.  One week will go by so fast that neither you nor
Elise would even notice."

"Elise will know I am not
there.  She is too young yet, too dependent on me.  We have never been
separated and I can easily imagine her crying or fretting the whole time we are
away."

John was growing exasperated and
decided to say no more.  Margaret sensed his irritation.  She conceded, in her
mind, that he was probably right and that, perhaps, she just did not trust the
care of her infant daughter to servants.  Dixon was solicitous enough and did
help her mother considerably in caring for her and Frederick but she had an
impatient streak not entirely suited to the continuous care of a helpless
infant.  Mary was conscientious but inexperienced and needed much direction.

Margaret ended their argument
with a shrug of the shoulders, "Perhaps, Dixon might like returning to
Helstone for a visit."  Then, she got up and said, "I am going to my
studio to paint."

Mrs. Thornton resolved their
disagreement in a manner neither John nor Margaret ever anticipated.  Shortly
after Mrs. Thornton moved to the old mill house, John insisted on her having
dinner at their house on Friday evenings.  On the first such Friday, he and
Margaret asked her to stay the night and through Saturday.  Mrs. Thornton,
making good on her resolve to be nicer to Margaret, allowed herself to be
persuaded. 

The suite of rooms that had been
hers when she lived in the house had not been converted for any other use.  The
drapery and wall coverings had been left as they were and the bedroom and
sitting room furniture had been replaced only with the barest minimum.  The
bedroom had a bed, a night table, a dressing table and its matching chair while
the sitting room was furnished with only a divan, a coffee table and a writing
table and chair placed perpendicular to a window looking out onto the garden. 
The spare furnishings would appear to have mitigated against comfort.  But the
bed had been covered in rose-colored, sumptuous linens of silk and down that
belonged to Mrs. Hale  and when Mrs. Thornton lay down on them, they felt like a
warm caress on her skin.  When she awoke the following morning, she realized
she slept more soundly than she had ever done while living in the house.

After breakfast, instead of
ascending straight to her sitting room as she used to do, she joined the young
family in the conservatory.  She sat on a wicker chair by one of the tables,
watching Margaret and John play with Elise.  Not too long after, Mary took over
the care of Elise and her parents proceeded to work on individual tasks at
separate tables.  John joined his mother at her table.  Not inclined to read
and devoid of her needlework, Mrs. Thornton continued to watch Elise at play. 
Elise soon tired of the toys that she had been offered and, curious about a
relatively unfamiliar person in the room, she approached Mrs. Thornton in her
slow childish waddle, stood next to her, and raised her arms to be picked up. 
Mary, just behind a few steps, was about to take Elise away but Mrs. Thornton
raised her hand to stop Mary and told her to lift Elise up to her lap. 
Uncertain what to do next, Mrs. Thornton asked Mary for a book to read to the
child.  Later, all three of them went for a walk in the garden, leaving John
and Margaret working in the conservatory.