Becoming Mrs. Thornton: A Sequel to North and South

Chapter 11

Chapter 11 – Becoming Mrs. Thornton – copyright Jill Hughey 2014

Margaret did, indeed, love her husband. For the first week, with the dragon out of the roost, the novelty of the new marriage allowed the couple to be blissful, even if John returned to the mill on the second day. Margaret spent that afternoon exploring the public areas of the house. She tried to force a familiarity with her new home that she did not feel. The next day she went to the upholsterer’s shop, eager to make her decisions about her bedchamber before the matriarch’s return. She and John decided to hire the man who had hung the wallpaper in her parent’s Crampton house to paint her room a cheerful yellow, and their sitting room warm gold.

By the time Mother Thornton descended, the bedchamber had been stripped of all decoration and its bare walls waited for transformation. There was no turning back.

The dragon never uttered a word about it though Margaret had no doubt she was aware of the gutting. In every other way, in every other corner, the original Mrs. Thornton picked up the reins of the household as if a second Mrs. Thornton did not exist. 

She could not destroy Margaret’s happiness. Just the thought of John being a quick walk across the millyard spurred Margaret’s pulse, though she did not make that walk, knowing that he was busy from dawn to dusk and would not know what to do with her standing in his office. 

She wrote notes to their wedding guests, supervised her decorators, and adjusted her wardrobe back to Milton expectations. When she had no correspondence and their sitting room shone like an autumn sunrise, including a cozy, heavier sofa for she and John to share — though they seemed to always be downstairs in the evenings now — she resumed her regular walks around Milton to fill some of the hours of her days.

She asked once to accompany Mrs. Thornton on her daily inspection of the mill and was reluctantly towed along. But Margaret’s habit of chatting with instead of haranguing the workers did not suit the dragon. Margaret excused herself after being chided for the third time in the second workroom. The dragon let her go.

Several deep breaths returned enough calmness that she could walk across the mill yard without betraying her disappointment in both herself and her mother-in-law. She wandered until a tempting smell drew her to the cookhouse. The mouthwatering scent gave way to the sight of poor Mary Higgins elbow deep in dishwater while a full table of workers waited impatiently for meals.

“How can I help?” Margaret asked as she pushed up the sleeves of her brown wool gown.

“Oh, no, you mustn’t, Mrs. Thornton,” Mary said, horrified. “Two of the girls are sick at home but we’ll make do.” Margaret looked around until she found an apron and a towel. She dried a dish then carried it to a rotund woman who appeared to be just as overwhelmed with cooking and serving. She continued helping Mary until each worker had received a meal on a clean dish, then she alternated chopping potatoes for the cook and serving new arrivals.

Hours later, a silence fell over the last few hands who were eating late in the afternoon. Margaret glanced around to see what had subdued their companionable chatter. “Mr. Thornton,” she cried when she saw her husband’s silhouette at the door. She patted her hair self-consciously as she walked to him. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Looking for you,” he replied, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Oh?” She stepped outside since he did not seem inclined to come in. He also did not seem inclined to expand on his reason for being at the cookhouse. “Did you need me for something?”

He had been searching her face but now looked away across the yard. “Mother came looking for you at the office. She said she had…discouraged you in the carding room today. When she went to the house you were not there, nor had Jane seen you.”