Margaret of the North (56 page)

She did not answer right away but
continued to slowly fork the food into her mouth.  After a minute or two and
without looking up from her plate, she said, "What if your world were to
grow more?"

John was not quite certain at
first what she meant.  He put his fork down and frowned, trying to comprehend
her question; then his eyes glistened with a happy suspicion.  "You mean
another child?"

She looked up at him and nodded,
a smile slowly lighting up her face.  "It is not too soon for you, is it,
to have a second one?  Elise will be three years old by the time this one is
born."

"No, oh no!" He reached
out, squeezed her hand, and raised it to his lips.  Then, flippant again, he
said, "Paris, isn't it?  That is what I would like to think, anyway."

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

Edith's expectations worked in so
far as Captain Bennett and Catherine did find each other agreeable.  The two
stumbled upon much to talk about and, seated next to each other at dinner
according to Edith's plan, they spent most of the evening in conversation.  Dr.
Hartley had been placed across the table between Mrs. Thornton, who mostly
listened or talked to her son, and Captain Lennox, who largely engaged Margaret
in conversation.  He could not miss what was going on in front of him.  But the
hoped-for romantic alliance did not come to pass the way Edith had envisioned
it.  Captain Bennett was of an inherently wary frame of mind to trust first
encounters and Catherine's hopes that Dr. Hartley might return her affection
were revived when she noticed how often he looked at her at dinner.  Dr.
Hartley did pay more attention to Catherine after that dinner but, while
sensible of her charms, he seemed immune to them.  About a month later, his
attention to Catherine waned and he resumed escorting other women.

It took a year before Catherine
finally gave up on the doctor.  Shortly before that time, Captain Bennett had
decided Milton was the place for him and he returned to open a law office with
the intention of settling there if his practice grew.  Edith—suspecting that he
was too shy to approach the Thorntons and to renew acquaintances he formed on
his first visit—wrote Margaret about his move to Milton, with entreaties to
invite him for tea or dinner to which she must, of course, also invite
Catherine.  By such machinations, Edith continued her matchmaking which Margaret,
for the sake of her friend, assisted.  Thus, were Captain Bennett and Catherine
thrown frequently into company.  In time, they realized how suitable their
dispositions were to each other.  He proposed and she accepted.  Edith was
triumphant although it bothered her romantic notions somewhat that the
attachment was not based on the sweet passion that she believed swept her off
her feet upon meeting her captain or the intense ardor wordlessly exchanged
between Margaret and John.  Still, her success gratified her and she allowed
that mutual respect and affection were enough to unite two people in matrimony.

Eventually, Dr. Hartley married a
vacuous beauty, the heiress of a very rich manufacturer, a Miss Lambert who
came back from finishing school and immediately became the belle of the society
the Thorntons moved in.  John, who had a high opinion of Dr. Hartley's good
sense, thought the choice imprudent and remarked to Margaret after the
engagement was announced.  "He was dazzled by her beauty but he will tire
of her soon enough.  I feel sorry for Dr. Hartley.  I think this is an
impulsive choice, one he will regret."

"Miss Lambert does dazzle
and Catherine would definitely have been a better match for the doctor, in mind
and temperament.  I would have wagered for a more lasting and true conjugal
felicity between her and the doctor."  Margaret paused and was thoughtful
for a moment before adding, "Still, I do not think, for an instant, that
Charles Bennett is less capable of making Catherine happy."

"Well, he is steady, calm,
almost phlegmatic in disposition and, therefore, less riveting than the
exuberant, impulsive, virile American.  Perhaps, reliable, loyal, and true do
suit Mrs.  Catherine Bennett better."

"Life with Captain Bennett,
from what I gather, has been tranquil and Catherine has been serenely happy. 
Dr. Hartley might have given her more adventure and perhaps, some periods of
intense joy but, I would guess, also more heartache."

A scowl flitted through John's
brow as he tried to suppress the irritation he felt at this remark.  He was
confident of Margaret's love, so why should it matter?  Did he not acknowledge
likewise that Dr. Hartley would have been a more exciting mate for Catherine? 
But John could not help being vexed by suspicions that Dr. Hartley never got
over Margaret.  When he first met Miss Lambert, John was struck by how she had
nearly the same coloring and build as Margaret.  Miss Lambert was arguably more
stunning and—conscious of her beauty—was vain enough to flaunt it.  But the more
he looked at her, the more John saw that the brightness in Miss Lambert's ivory
skin was enhanced by artificial means and careful choice of colors in her dress
and that her blue eyes, enlarged by subtly applied shadows around them, had
neither the depth nor lively expressiveness he saw all the time in his wife's
eyes.  Despite his vexation, John felt sorry for Dr. Hartley and he remembered
his agony, nearly forgotten now, when he thought Margaret loved someone else. 
And yet, had his own story not had a happy ending, he was certain he would not
have settled for such a shallow substitute, one who did not live up to the
attributes of the original.

The much awaited first reunion of
the Thorntons and the Hales took place three years after John and Margaret
visited Frederick and Dolores in Cadiz.  The two couples decided to rendezvous
in Paris in the month of September when the weather was turning temperate, not
as hot and humid as in the height of summer but not yet as wet as late fall or
winter.  They were all desirous to meet to cement sincere and happy alliances
curtailed by the short time they had spent together in Spain.  This reunion of
brother and sister was not nearly as tearful or poignant as the one they had in
Cadiz—the pain of their shared losses having slowly receded.  On their first
meeting at the apartment they rented in Paris, the generally happy years
immediately preceding prevailed, expressed in warm, exuberant embraces not only
between Frederick and Margaret but also between each of the couple and the
other.

This visit was rendered
particularly meaningful by their having become parents for the first time and
they were, thus, anxious for Elise and little Frederick, born only two months
apart, to know and be known by the other family.  Acquainting their children
with relatives on the opposite end of the continent was akin to an initiation
ritual, a poignant one for Frederick but more so for Margaret whose sense of
being all alone and rudderless after her father died had been acute, a sense
that still occasionally haunted her.  Although no longer disconsolate with
grief at losing her parents, she often recalled—with a quiet melancholy—that
they would never see her so happily settled and her daughter would never know
her grandparents.  Margaret was determined that Elise should know she had
family she could claim proudly on her mother's side, an uncle she could turn
to, if it became necessary.  She did not doubt that Elise could rely on her
grandmother for support.  But grandmama was not likely to be around all her
life.

Dixon accompanied the Thorntons. 
She had initially hesitated to come, fearful of traveling to a foreign country
with strange customs and an even stranger language.  Margaret had asserted that
they needed someone to help take care of Elise but Dixon continued to
vacillate.  When Margaret told her that they would have to take Mary if she did
not want to go, she was taken aback.  Not long after, she received a letter
from Dolores, profuse with hopes of meeting her.  Dixon finally consented to
go, admitting that she was, indeed, eager to see Frederick again, curious about
Dolores, and not immune to boasting that she had seen Paris.  Besides, there
was no better place than Paris to spend money accumulated from her years of
service.

The party was gathered for the
month in a large furnished apartment next to the Jardin du Luxembourg on the
Rive Gauche.  Frederick, who traveled to Paris once or twice a year on
business, had arranged to lease it on his last trip.  It had four bedrooms: two
large ones for the two couples, a third for the children and a fourth for Dixon
and Juana, the maid Dolores brought to take care of little Frederick.

Dixon was inevitably apprehensive
of sharing a bedroom with someone who spoke no English but within a week of
their arrival, the two women were communicating with a combination of gestures,
the few words of English Juana learned from Dolores and the three or four words
of Spanish Dixon could recall that Juana taught her.  Thrown into each other's
company all day, in a society new and strange to both, and similarly entrusted
with the care of their masters' children, they formed a casual alliance that
needed few words.  Towards the end of their stay, each admitted that the other
actually helped her enjoy the stay in Paris.

The apartment had a drawing room,
a dining room and a well-equipped kitchen that turned out to be more useful
than anyone had expected.  On their first morning and in need of breakfast, the
whole party went out searching for a food market.  A block from the apartment,
they happened upon a store, through the glass doors of which they could see the
interior already packed with people although it was still quite early. 
Delicious aromas wafted out every time customers entered or left it with their
purchase.

The sign on the store said
boulangerie
. 
"Why, of course—a bakery!  What else could smell so good?"  Margaret
exclaimed, smiling broadly as she stepped inside, followed close behind by
Dixon with Elise in her arms. 

After an instant of indecision,
the rest of them squeezed themselves into the bakery's crowded interior.  It
was redolent with delicious, irresistible aromas of baking and warm from the
blazing stone hearth visible from where they stood.  They looked around, in
marvel at the abundance before them.  Loaves of crusty bread, long and short,
fat and thin, filled two large baskets on two ends of a long counter and, in
between, buns and rolls of all kinds almost crowded out sweet and savory pies
and other pastries filled, according to the lady at the counter, with cheese,
ham, or a combination of both, all freshly baked.

Margaret, in the interest of
efficient ordering at the busy bakery, made choices for the whole group.  After
asking a few questions, she chose a warm country bread, a selection of both
sweet and savory pastries and small soft golden buns called brioche, relatively
rich in egg yolks and which, according to the friendly baker's wife who was
serving her, "
les petits aiment beaucoup
."  With the makings
for a hearty breakfast that she packaged beautifully in a box and directions
that she gave Margaret to an
épicerie
where they could purchase milk,
the party headed towards the store, bought tea and milk, and returned to the
apartment for a morning feast.  For about a week, Margaret and Dixon returned
to the bakery on subsequent mornings until the baker's wife became familiar
with
les femmes anglaises
and Dixon felt that, if Juana went with her,
she could manage to order what was needed simply by pointing to them.

On the second morning, when,
Margaret and Dixon returned to the épicerie for more tea and some coffee, fruit
preserves, milk and cream, they noticed a number of other food stores in the
vicinity, some still closed.  Margaret dragged Dixon back in late morning to
see what the stores offered.  They returned to the apartment laden with a
selection of both familiar and new food items.  At a nearby charcuterie, they
found hams, sausages, and other cured meats; at a cheese shop, a wide selection
of cheeses unknown in England; and at a small market with open stalls, fresh
fruits and vegetables.

Dixon, born with sensitive taste
buds and a sharp sense of smell, enjoyed good food and, across the years, had
learned to be creative with ingredients to make the most of the limited larder
the Hales kept.  Her natural gift for concocting delicious dishes was unleashed
when she took over the Thornton kitchen, for which she could purchase the best
ingredients that could be found in Milton.  The bounty in Paris delighted her
beyond words and on the first Sunday, she offered to make dinner, which
everyone gratefully accepted.

Recognizing the excellence of her
ingredients, she prepared them simply and presented a dinner of very fresh raw
oysters from the Brittany coast, roast lamb with small potatoes and creamed
wild mushrooms, and fresh figs and berries served with orange-infused liqueur. 
It was a delectable unexpected feast, an indulgence after the typical fare in
cafés and brasseries the two couples consumed during a day of sampling the
city's cultural offerings.  They requested it again and looked forward to a
similar feast on subsequent Sundays.

Frederick had selected the
apartment for its proximity to the beautiful, large garden next to the
Luxembourg palace and it turned out the wise and happy choice he thought it
would be.  The garden became Dixon and Juana's preferred place to take the
children when their parents were out somewhere in the city.  They went nearly
everyday, joining the many families who promenaded or played in vast spaces
shaded with trees and equipped with chairs, benches and grassy areas.  By the
second week, the couples needed a break from the continuous stimulation of art
and shopping galleries, museums, theaters, and cafés in a city still in the
middle of its massive reconstruction.  The whole party went to the garden and
whiled away that weekend and remaining ones pleasantly relaxing, chatting,
exchanging stories, and watching others around them do the same.  Just as Dixon
and Juana had seen other families do, they packed a picnic basket of bread,
cheese, fruit, cured meats, wine for the adults, and milk for the children.