Chapter One

Posted on: 2008-12-04

Despite the gloomy silence, she had still expected to see the white fibres ‘snowing’ from the machines. Margaret Hale walked forlornly across the factory floor. Without John Thornton standing at its helm, it was like a ship without a captain. ‘Or perhaps, he was more like the anchor?’ she mused, ‘Perhaps the cotton mill was sinking without him to hold it in place.’

It was so deathly quiet without the whirring and clunking of the spinning and weaving machinery. Margaret peered out of one of the grimy windows at the empty mill yard. There were not any horses bearing five hundred pound bales of cotton. There were not any impatient shouts as the raw materials were unloaded from the wagons. The whole mill seemed abandoned and desolate. She wondered when Thornton would return.

Almost as soon as Mr Bell had deeded his assets to her, she had been asking her advisors questions about investing in the cotton industry. She had practised her speech about the business proposal several times. On the way to Milton with Henry, her cousin’s brother-in-law, she had been quite adamant that her decision had little to do with John Thornton.

She was now the landlady of this very mill and Margaret wished for it to prosper. She wished for Thornton to succeed. She had told herself several times that this was not because she harboured any personal feelings for him. Now, standing there, with him missing from where she had long expected to see him, she was not so sure.

Mrs Thornton’s voice cut short her reverie, “He’s not here.”

Margaret turned to politely greet the older woman, but she was not given the chance.

“If you’ve come to crow over him, he’s not here.” Mrs Thornton said bitterly and then approached Margaret to study her pale face. Her footsteps echoed in the deserted void, “Come to look over your possessions, have you? The ones he worked all his life for.”

Margaret did not flinch, “You once accused me of not knowing what kind of man I’d rejected. You were right. But if you think I’ve come to triumph over him – that I don’t feel keenly the misfortune of this empty place – then you don’t know me at all

“I don’t know where he is,” Mrs Thornton replied sadly, studying the worn floor.

Despite her hostility, Margaret could not help thinking that she should comfort Thornton’s care-worn mother. When she took a step towards her, Mrs Thornton’s voice again had its defiant edge.

“Don’t think I’m worried for myself,” she warned Margaret against pitying her, “He’ll see me right - he always has.”

Margaret confidently reached out a hand to comfort her. Mrs Thornton immediately turned away and shook her head. Both women stood in contemplative silence.

Mrs Thornton was wondering if her John went in search of Miss Hale. How she wished that he would stop pining for this uppity young woman. Mrs Thornton had many doubts about Margaret’s conduct in the railway station incident.

Coincidentally, Margaret was thinking about the same misunderstanding. She had been seeing her fugitive brother off one night. Thornton had witnessed their embrace and now, despite giving her an alibi, obviously thought her unmaidenly. Margaret began to worry that he was out calling on a Miss Latimer or a Miss Stone – someone that he felt would be more worthy of his devotion. ‘You are being preposterous,’ she told herself, ‘What is it to you, whom he courts?’

Flustered by these thoughts, Margaret took her leave of Mrs Thornton with as much grace as she had at her disposal. She promised to have her attorney send some business papers to Thornton. His mother stood, sneering at her back, hoping not to see her return. Margaret hurried out, smoothing her long skirt, and went in search of Henry Lennox. She was convinced that her friend would calm her nerves.

They were only half-way back to London when her plans were de-railed once more. The steam train shuddered to a stop and Henry announced that there would be a ten minute break, while they waited for a north-bound train to pass. It was his next words that made Margaret aware of how much her life was in flux.

“Your dear cousin is a fine mother,” he began, “My brother has made a wise choice. Margaret,” he reached out and clasped her hand, “I wish for you to reconsider your earlier rejection. I wish for you to become my wife.”

Margaret was so intent on trying to compose herself, that she did not see the tall man stepping off of the north-bound train. Margaret’s vision was blurred by tears and her head was bowed. She quietly tried to find the right words to decline Henry’s proposal. That is why she did not notice John Thornton watching them from his side of the platform.

“Have I not waited long enough?” Henry murmured, concerned about her grave silence and the tears spilling onto her cheeks. “Is it too soon after your father’s death?”

Hoping that she would not think him too forward, Henry shifted so that he was sitting right beside her. He tightened his hold on her hand and spoke soothingly to her. Margaret felt so lost, but she knew that she must not give him any false hopes. She was not in love with him and she must tell him so. Margaret turned to face him and began to haltingly decline his offer of marriage.

Thornton felt foolish for even having left his carriage. He had been surprised and delighted when he saw her beautiful profile. He now turned back towards the north-bound train. The words which Thornton had just been reading in her late father’s edition of Plato reverberated in his mind. “Death is not the worst that can happen to men.”

As his train began to head towards Milton, Thornton pulled the yellow rose he had found at Helstone from his pocket. Its beauty was already fading. Without the hope of wooing Margaret, whatever their circumstances, his life seemed hopeless, too. Margaret had wealth and a gentlemanly suitor. Thornton must return to the empty mill and somehow begin again.

Thornton did not see Margaret standing up and rushing into the next carriage. The woman he loved paced up and down the aisle, trying to calm down. She hated losing her temper and she did not want to cause Henry any further distress by refusing to sit with him, but she needed some ‘air’.

“I know that it is highly improper of me,” a young woman whispered, “because we have not been introduced, but I wonder if I can be of assistance to you, Miss...”

“Miss Margaret Hale,” she found herself replying, immediately trusting in this lady’s sincere sympathy.

“My name is Elizabeth Bennet, Miss Hale. Won’t you please take a seat? I have some caraway seed cake. My mother vouches that it always settles her nerves!” she smiled and the warmth reached her deep brown eyes.

Margaret seated herself and was relieved when the young woman did not ask for any explanations about her unhappiness. Instead, she handed Margaret a linen handkerchief and talked about the country town she was from while offering Margaret refreshments.

“Thank you for your kindness, Miss Bennet,” Margaret said, quietly after a lull in the conversation, “I am staying with my Aunt Shaw in Harley Street. The address is on this card.”

“I was feeling much the same way myself!” Elizabeth replied, taking the calling card, “You have done me a great service without even realising it. I am determined to reach London without red, blotchy eyes and to speak ‘rationally’ to my Papa,” she paused, “He is ill, you see.”

“Oh, I am sorry to hear that,” Margaret replied, “I shall pray for him.”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth replied, “I am sorry that I shall not be able to call on you. Under the circumstances...” Elizabeth did not add that the ‘circumstances’ involved her youngest sister’s infamous elopement. Elizabeth did not tell Margaret that this had been one of the most pleasant conversations she had had since returning from Lambton. She did not elaborate on the fact that her father and Uncle Gardiner had been unable to find Lydia or Wickham.

“I would not wish to take you away from your ill father,” Margaret assured her, “but perhaps I may visit with a basket of fruit or some herbs.”

Elizabeth immediately thought of Mrs Hurst’s and Miss Bingley’s derision of the Gardiner’s and them being in ‘trade.’ She silently kicked herself for being prejudiced about Miss Hale. The tone of finality in Darcy’s voice – as he took his leave of her after hearing of Lydia’s elopement - that was causing her to think so much of the Ton’s unfair judgements on people. “My Uncle and Aunt Gardiner live in Gracechurch Street... Opposite the East India Trading Company... He’s a manufacturer.”

“I shall come by Tuesday,” Margaret vowed, not even batting an eye-lid at the mention of Elizabeth having relations in ‘trade.’ “Please excuse me. I must go and speak to my... friend.”

Margaret walked confidently down the aisle and opened the door to the next compartment. She was not surprised to find that Henry ignored her. He kept the newspaper up – like a wall between them. She did not attempt to scale the fortifications. After briefly apologising for her outburst, she watched the blur of gas lights and smoking chimneys out of the side-glass.

Elizabeth alighted at Fenchurch Street railway station. The platform was crowded with hawkers, footmen and commuters. She found a lad to lug her trunk out to the road. Finding a hackney-cab, however, was much more difficult. The distance she needed to travel was not great and so the drivers ignored her repeated requests for help. She was searching in her reticule for more shillings when a familiar voice made the same request she had.

“I need a cab to 19 Gracechurch Street,” he announced, “I shall give a whole pound for good service.”

“Mr Darcy!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

“Miss Bennet!” he was equally shocked to see her, “Are you travelling to your Aunt and Uncle’s residence?” He waited for her to reply, but she simply nodded and looked away awkwardly.

“I’ll take ya to Gracechurch Street, sir!” Several hackney-cab drivers began to scuffle with each other as they tried to reach him.

“You there,” Darcy said to a man who had held back from the vulgar display. “Take this young lady’s trunk.” A footman held the door open and Darcy politely bowed and then handed Elizabeth into the carriage. He sat down opposite her, but Darcy had no idea what to say.

The guilt he felt for not revealing Wickham’s true nature to the world was immense. Despite all of his efforts, since leaving her at Lambton, he had sought to right this wrong. For Elizabeth’s sake, he had barely slept all week. Darcy was trying so hard to be discreet about Lydia’s situation, that he had not even been using his private carriage during his inquiries around London.

“I thank you for your kind concern.” Elizabeth said at last, “My mother still stays in her room. Jane and my sisters do what they can for her. Papa sent an express asking me to come to London. He has caught a fever.”

“That is so very unfortunate,” Darcy said at once. Before he could offer to have his private physician sent for, Elizabeth spoke once more.

“Might I ask, sir,” she ventured, “Why are you in this part of London?”

“I would have thought it was obvious,” Darcy replied, feeling a little hurt that she thought he would leave her to suffer through this tragic time. “I am here to resolve this problem. I did not expect to see you. I was not seeking any praise for my involvement.”

Elizabeth did not have time to reply. The hackney-cab’s bell clanged as it came to a sudden stop.

“Lizzy! Lizzy!” four small children called, waving from the window of the Gardiner family’s home.

She was soon surrounded by smiling faces and bobbing heads.

“Your Mama was kind to let you all stay up to welcome me!” Elizabeth exclaimed and then turned to introduce them to Mr Darcy.

The Gardiners were surprised to see him, but gave Darcy an affable greeting into their home. He quickly accepted Mr Gardiner’s ‘tour’ of the study, determined to put his plans into action.