more light and cheeriness. With
half-closed eyes, she kissed every flower and inhaled its fragrance deeply.
Then, she stopped, suddenly, as she caught a glimpse of Jane staring at her
with undue interest. It irritated her: Margaret knew that, after the riot during
the last strike, she had been the object of much gossip among these servants
who saw her stand between Mr. Thornton and the rioters. She did not doubt that
her unexpected arrival at the Thornton house occasioned even more talk.
"What a bother," she
thought. "Have they got nothing better to talk about among themselves?
And, yet, what could I do?" She shrugged her shoulders once more:
Perhaps, gossip came with being John Thornton's fiancée, one of those things
she needed to get used to.
In the present instant, at least,
she could deal with Jane. Margaret raised her head from the flowers, fixed her
eyes on the maid, and with an engaging smile, said, "Thank you, Jane,
please place the vase on that table over there." The flowers still in her
hand, Margaret went to open the door and held it open, leaving Jane no choice
but to hurry out of the room upon depositing the vase on the table. Margaret
placed the flowers in the vase and arranged them to her liking. Then, she
headed for the dining room with a wry smile on her face. Her new life in
Milton was off to an interesting beginning.
John and Mrs. Thornton were at
breakfast when Margaret came into the dining room. John had been a little
restless waiting for her, surreptitiously eyeing the door while giving his
mother the impression of his full attention. He had been impatient through the
night to see her again and he sprung up from his chair as soon as he saw her.
Mrs. Thornton, momentarily startled, became aware only then of Margaret's
presence. John walked around the table to pull a chair out for her and as she
sat down, he caressed her back briefly. As light as it was, his hand sent a
wave of warmth all over Margaret and she looked up at him, smiling shyly. They
exchanged a barely noticeable nod of unspoken intimacy, oblivious of his
mother.
Mrs. Thornton watched the brief
exchange, her lips compressed and her eyes clouded with a scowl. Her scrutiny
and faintly masked disapproval was not lost on Margaret who felt suddenly ill
at ease and hesitant. Forgetting that she had not greeted Mrs. Thornton, she
turned her full attention to pouring tea in her cup and serving herself toast
and butter.
John, still gripped by the
unexpected wonder of Margaret's presence there having breakfast with him, hovered
behind her chair and enticed her with other dishes. "How about some eggs
or, perhaps, some fruit?"
With an uneasy glance at his
mother, Margaret turned towards John to smile her refusal. He started to bend
down to kiss her but Mrs. Thornton arrested his movement with an elaborate
clearing of her throat. He straightened slowly, smiled with a little
embarrassed scowl at his mother, and went back to his chair—but not before he
had tenderly grazed his hand across the nape of Margaret's neck.
Mrs. Thornton's throat clearing
reminded Margaret of her manners and she realized that she had neglected to
give her a proper greeting. But it was too late to rectify her omission and
all Margaret could manage then was a wan, reluctant, and apologetic smile.
Mrs. Thornton gave her a barely
perceptible nod, got up and in a cold voice, announced, "I will leave you
two to finish your breakfast. I have things to attend to." Then,
addressing Margaret, she added, "Breakfast is always ready by seven in the
morning but it will wait for you if you are a late riser." She smirked as
she finished and turned to leave the room in a rustle of stiff fabric.
Margaret bit her lip as she watched Mrs. Thornton walking briskly out of the
room.
When they were alone, John
reached across the table and grasped Margaret's hand in his. She turned
towards him, her lips curved up at the corners to force
half-closed eyes, she kissed every flower and inhaled its fragrance deeply.
Then, she stopped, suddenly, as she caught a glimpse of Jane staring at her
with undue interest. It irritated her: Margaret knew that, after the riot during
the last strike, she had been the object of much gossip among these servants
who saw her stand between Mr. Thornton and the rioters. She did not doubt that
her unexpected arrival at the Thornton house occasioned even more talk.
"What a bother," she
thought. "Have they got nothing better to talk about among themselves?
And, yet, what could I do?" She shrugged her shoulders once more:
Perhaps, gossip came with being John Thornton's fiancée, one of those things
she needed to get used to.
In the present instant, at least,
she could deal with Jane. Margaret raised her head from the flowers, fixed her
eyes on the maid, and with an engaging smile, said, "Thank you, Jane,
please place the vase on that table over there." The flowers still in her
hand, Margaret went to open the door and held it open, leaving Jane no choice
but to hurry out of the room upon depositing the vase on the table. Margaret
placed the flowers in the vase and arranged them to her liking. Then, she
headed for the dining room with a wry smile on her face. Her new life in
Milton was off to an interesting beginning.
John and Mrs. Thornton were at
breakfast when Margaret came into the dining room. John had been a little
restless waiting for her, surreptitiously eyeing the door while giving his
mother the impression of his full attention. He had been impatient through the
night to see her again and he sprung up from his chair as soon as he saw her.
Mrs. Thornton, momentarily startled, became aware only then of Margaret's
presence. John walked around the table to pull a chair out for her and as she
sat down, he caressed her back briefly. As light as it was, his hand sent a
wave of warmth all over Margaret and she looked up at him, smiling shyly. They
exchanged a barely noticeable nod of unspoken intimacy, oblivious of his
mother.
Mrs. Thornton watched the brief
exchange, her lips compressed and her eyes clouded with a scowl. Her scrutiny
and faintly masked disapproval was not lost on Margaret who felt suddenly ill
at ease and hesitant. Forgetting that she had not greeted Mrs. Thornton, she
turned her full attention to pouring tea in her cup and serving herself toast
and butter.
John, still gripped by the
unexpected wonder of Margaret's presence there having breakfast with him, hovered
behind her chair and enticed her with other dishes. "How about some eggs
or, perhaps, some fruit?"
With an uneasy glance at his
mother, Margaret turned towards John to smile her refusal. He started to bend
down to kiss her but Mrs. Thornton arrested his movement with an elaborate
clearing of her throat. He straightened slowly, smiled with a little
embarrassed scowl at his mother, and went back to his chair—but not before he
had tenderly grazed his hand across the nape of Margaret's neck.
Mrs. Thornton's throat clearing
reminded Margaret of her manners and she realized that she had neglected to
give her a proper greeting. But it was too late to rectify her omission and
all Margaret could manage then was a wan, reluctant, and apologetic smile.
Mrs. Thornton gave her a barely
perceptible nod, got up and in a cold voice, announced, "I will leave you
two to finish your breakfast. I have things to attend to." Then,
addressing Margaret, she added, "Breakfast is always ready by seven in the
morning but it will wait for you if you are a late riser." She smirked as
she finished and turned to leave the room in a rustle of stiff fabric.
Margaret bit her lip as she watched Mrs. Thornton walking briskly out of the
room.
When they were alone, John
reached across the table and grasped Margaret's hand in his. She turned
towards him, her lips curved up at the corners to force
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