What You Wish For (7 page)

“
Ah, how lovely,” he said as she set the tea tray down on his desk. “How was your walk this morning?”

“
Actually I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“
Of course, my dear, you can tell me anything.”

She poured their tea and once they were settled in the chairs by the fire in his study, she began.

“
Mr Hale, I didn't go for a walk this morning. I went to see about a job.”

“
You're leaving us?” he sounded surprised.

“
Actually no. Well, that is if you don't mind me staying here.”

“
You are a most congenial addition to our little family, Carrie. You will always be welcome here.”

“
Thank you.” She blushed. “Anyway, the job isn't a governess position or anything like that. I am helping out at Marlborough Mills, in the office with administration,” she hastened to add. “And just for five hours a day.”

“
Well, that is unusual work but I suppose, if it gives you pleasure.”

“
It does. It also means that I have an income now and I would like to give you a portion of it.”

“
You don't need to pay for your room, Carrie. Besides, you don't even have your own room, you share with Margaret.”

“
True but if I am a member of this family then my income should benefit this family, no?”

“
Well...”

“
Please, Mr Hale. You and your family have been so kind taking me in and looking after me, but I know you cannot really afford one more mouth to feed. Let me help. My wage can not only save you the allowance you give me, it could pay for another servant to help Dixon. I know you don't like Margaret and I helping her as much as we do, so use this money and employ help for her.”

“
Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?”

“
You can't,” she said, smiling.

Chapter Five

Mr Thornton was in a foul mood the next morning, for just the afternoon before a pile of useless stationary had been delivered, costing almost all the money he had given Miss Preston. He knew he shouldn't have given her so much but he wanted to appear generous. It irked him that she seemed to think that since he gave her that money, she had carte blanche to spend it all. What did he need with four letter trays, he asked himself. It was just frivolous.

He supposed he shouldn't be surprised, most young girls were frivolous (his sister was a perfect example) but he had expected more from Miss Preston.

He ate breakfast with his mother then stood in the courtyard as the employees filed in. The bell rang for the start of work but Miss Preston was nowhere to be seen. He waited until a quarter past the hour, growing more impatient by the second. Did she think that she didn't have to keep to her times like the other mill hands?

Still, he was losing precious time himself by waiting for her, so he made his way into his office. He stopped short when he found her standing by his desk, rearranging it.

“
You're here!”

“
Yes,” she smiled. “I got here early, I wanted to press on.”

He saw the letter trays laid out on his desk, three on the left hand side, one on the right. His irritation began to rise again.

“
I see you had a good time at the stationers yesterday.”

“
What? Oh, yes. If you'll come over here I'll explain the new system to you.”

“
New system?” he was growing more irritable. Now she thought that she could just waltz into his office and change things as she saw fit!

“
Yes. Here you have three inboxes. One for unpaid bills, one for outstanding invoices and one for other general enquiries that need your attention, such as potential bids. Once you have paid a bill, received payment or dealt with an enquiry, you put the paperwork or letters in this outbox over here, so that I can file the papers away and post the letters.”

She smiled at him, pleased with herself. When he didn't answer, she moved over to the filing cabinets.

“
And over here, I have divided the cabinets up into suppliers, buyers and factory related - which has things like the employee records, inventory, cotton orders, machine parts, etcetera. The paperwork in each group is filed alphabetically, by company name for the buyers and suppliers and by subject for the factory category.”

Each drawer had been labelled with it's category and which letters of the alphabet it contained.

He was ashamed to admit that her system did seem a lot more organised than his had been. It would only take him a fraction of the time to find what he needed now, and he felt bad for thinking ill of her.

“
You don't like it?” she said, noticing his frown.

“
No. No I didn't say that,” he smiled. “I am just surprised, that's all. You seem to have made things very efficient.”

“
Thank you. Oh, and before I forget,” she went to her small purse on the table and retrieved his change and receipts which she placed on his desk.

He looked at her; she was flushed with happiness, evidently proud of her work. He thought that he had rarely seen a more attractive sight.

“
I haven't finished the filing yet, as you can see,” she pointed to the stacks of papers still on the table. “But in theory at least, I think this works well.”

“
Indeed.”

His voice was so warm that she turned to look at him, and suddenly felt rather faint at the admiration she saw in his eyes. She seemed to be frozen, unable to look away or even breathe for a moment.

Mr Thornton stepped closer and Carrie wondered if he was going to kiss her. She desperately wanted him too but she also knew that he shouldn't. He wasn't hers to kiss, he belonged to Margaret.

She didn't know if she had the willpower to refuse him though, so she breathed a sigh of relief when a knock sounded at his door, snapping them both out of what ever stupor had overcome them.

Carrie went back to her desk to work while John strode over to the door and opened it. His manner with Williams was somewhat curt but Carrie felt relieved. As they left, she took a few moments to compose herself, then set about continuing her work.

When Mr Thornton returned, they worked mostly in silence until it was time for Carrie to leave, a pattern which repeated itself over the next few days.

When Sunday finally came around, Carrie had never felt so relieved to have a day off. She loved the thrill of getting up, knowing she would be seeing Mr Thornton soon but at the same time, she hated working with him all morning, constantly chiding herself not to look at him, lest her will fail her once again.

Sunday was a quiet day, thankfully. After attending church with the Hales, Carrie took herself off for a walk. Milton was a dirty, smoky town, but up on the hills there was a modicum of fresher air and from a distance, the dirt and smoke gave the town character and made it look appealing, rather than suffocating.

Margaret may have been used to pea soupers in London but Carrie had never experienced such pollution before.

She settled herself down on the hillside and just sat there for a while, thinking.

She had been stuck in this life for a few months now and seemed no closer to getting home. It had taken her a while to get used to the manners and social mores here but she thought that she was settling in well, until Mr Bloody Thornton had to come along and make her fall in love with him!

And this was more than just being in love with his character, because that character was fictional. This Mr Thornton was just as adorable as the fictional one, only he was real, or at least he felt very real. But he wasn't meant for her, he was meant for Margaret. Margaret who looked down her nose at him. Margaret who insulted him at every turn, both intentionally and unintentionally. Margaret who didn't deserve him, damn it! It wasn't fair!

“
I must be going crazy,” she said softly. She was probably right at this moment lying in some insane asylum, dressed in a straightjacket and drugged out of her mind.

“
I wouldn't say that.”

She turned to see Mr Thornton standing behind her.

“
Is this grass reserved for someone?” he asked, gesturing to the space beside her.

“
Oh, no. I, uh, I like it up here, it sort of puts things in perspective, if you know what I mean.”

“
That's why I like walking this path too,” he said, settling beside her.

“
I'm surprised,” she said. “You don't really seem like the walking type.”

“
What type do I seem like?” he asked.

“
I don't know, a bit like me I suppose, a typical city dweller, always busy, never having time to stop and smell the roses.”

“
And yet here we both are. I don't see any roses but there's some petunias over there that we could smell if you like.”

Carrie laughed. She was seeing an aspect of Mr Thornton's character that wasn't in the book, namely his playful side. He also had a sense of humour, which Carrie had never noticed in the book. She found that she liked it very much.

“
Actually I like it up here because it's quiet,” Carrie admitted. “Truth be told, I'm a bit of an antisocial git. I like getting away from people and just being who I want to be for a while.”

“
And who do you want to be?” he asked.

Carrie turned to look at him, wondering how much she should tell this man.

“
I'm not sure,” she said. “But I know it's not who I'm expected to be.”

“
And who is that?”

Carrie sighed deeply.

“
Well, my mother thinks, or rather she thought, that a woman's only role was to be pretty and marry well. My sister kind of agrees and she can't understand why I waste my time with study and work, when I should be partying and meeting Mr Right. Or Mr. 'I've Got A Yacht in the South of France'. My dad, well he just bitches about women; how they're only after one thing, how they're all superficial and brainless. Of course it would help if he dated women his own age and stopped dating brain dead airheads.”

“
Dating?” Mr Thornton asked, for if she meant what he thought she did, then what was a married man doing courting young women?

Carrie realised her mistake, divorce was unheard of in the 1800s. Well, unless you were Henry VIII that is. She just felt so comfortable with him today, that it was easy to slip into her old speech patterns.

“
Dating, yeah, it's um, it's just another word for flirting, really. He and my mother live, or rather lived separately, and he liked to spend his free time in the company of pretty young women who flattered his ego. Nothing salacious, just a bit desperate and sad, really.”

“
So who do you want to be?” he asked.

“
Like I said, I don't know. I know I don't want to be defined by who I marry, forever more known as 'Mr So And So's Wife'. I want to do something important, you know? Make my own mark on the world in some small way.”

“
You want to be famous?” he asked, unsure of her meaning.

“
God no!” She cringed as she remembered Mr Hale chastising her for taking the Lord's name in vain. “Pardon me. No, what I mean is, I want to have an impact on the world, to do something that matters, that changes lives or inspires people, even if it's only a few people.”

“
I think that's a very worthy goal to have,” he said.

“
What about you, did you always want to be a cotton manufacturer, or did you have another dream when you were young?”

“
Me?” he sounded surprised, as though no one had ever asked him that question before. He was silent for a few moments as he thought about it. “I remember when I was a boy, I wanted to be a doctor.”

“
Really?”

“
Does that surprise you?”

“
Well yes, but only because it's so different from what you do. Was it a real goal, or was it like me wanting to be a ballet dancer when I was five and a vet when I was six, and a lion tamer when I was seven?”

“
A lion tamer?” he laughed.

“
It's a real career I'll have you know,” she grinned. “But it was just a passing fad.”

“
I don't know. I don't think it was a real goal.” He was silent for a long while and when he spoke again his voice was low, almost like he was confessing a dark secret. “If I am honest, I suppose I always wanted to be a scholar.”

Carrie turned to him and smiled.

“
I think you'd have been good at it.”

“
Don't flatter me,” he said gruffly.

“
I'm not. I've heard some of your discussions with Mr Hale and you seem very insightful.”

“
For someone who's never been to university, you mean.” Mr Thornton was frowning.

“
No, just insightful. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have started this conversation.”

“
Don't be. I'm not sorry for the life I lead; circumstances often dictate what we become and I've been very successful. I have no right to complain.”

Carrie smiled but it was tinged with sadness.

“
An engineer,” she said softly.

“
Who, me?” he asked, puzzled by her statement.

“
No, me. It wasn't just a passing fad either, for years I've dreamed about building something that would stand the test of time and help improve lives in some way, that's why I was so interested when you were talking about the power loom the other evening. To make something like that, something that changed a whole industry... But I let myself be talked out of it and into taking soft subjects, ladylike subjects such as English.”