Chapter 10. Humpty Dumpty

The morning following the riot, Mrs. Thornton sat in the dining room mending a large tablecloth. In preparing the linen for her annual dinner, she had noted that a monogram was unraveling from the corner of the cloth, and was determined to pick out the stitches and replace them before packing the linen away for another year.

The light in the room was not good, so she moved her chair closer to the window to take advantage of the natural light. She had just begun to carefully snip at the knots on the underside of the cloth when her son entered the room, dressed as if to pay a call. With a mother's jealous eye, she noted at once that he was wearing his good black suit, and a dark red waistcoat and tie, not his usual attire for working in the mill. She saw in a glance that his face was soft and hopeful, and her heart sank in her chest as she realized what he was about.

"John," she exclaimed in a sharper tone than she usually used with him. "What are you doing here at this hour? Why are you not at the mill?"

He looked at her steadily. "I have a call to make in Crampton, Mother, and I believe you know what I am going to say."

She sighed heavily. "Yes, I do. What could you do otherwise?"

"What do you mean?" he asked quickly.

"John," she explained patiently. "The servants were watching from the windows yesterday. They saw her rush out onto the landing. They heard her tell the crowd to stop what they were doing. They saw her embrace you."

His heart beat rapidly, but he replied steadily, "She did not embrace me, mother, she was attempting to ward me off. I wanted her to return to the house."

She waved his comment away. "It makes no difference. She was deeply concerned for your life. A girl in love will act in such a way."

"In love!" Mr. Thornton exclaimed, and took a hurried step forward, as if thrilled with the thought. "I never thought that such a woman could be in love with me!"

Mrs. Thornton snorted, "Of course she is in love with you! I could almost think better of her in that she let her concern and love for you overcome her reticence!"

He turned from her, highly impatient to be off to Crampton. "I must go," he said distractedly, and did not see Mrs. Thornton's hand lifted to clasp his own. She heard the door below slam, and watched as a solitary tear fell upon the linen in her hands.

"He is no longer mine," she said in a quiet voice, and continued with her mending.

********

While Mr. Thornton was explaining his errand to his mother, Meg was once more engrossed in the homey task of ironing. The smoke and dirt of Milton necessitated washing the curtains and household linens once a week. Mary had sent word earlier that she intended to remain at home for the day to tend to her sister, so the ironing fell to Meg. She did not mind; she had been relieved to hear that Bessy was feeling better, albeit weak after her turn of the day before. It was best that Mary stay at home and care for Bessy.

Meg had attempted to arrange her hair so that it fell over her temple in order to hide the bruise she had sustained from the blow of yesterday. She considered herself lucky once again that her mother and father were so absorbed in their own concerns that they were fairly unobservant when it came to her own. Only Dixon had noticed, and although Meg doubted the sharp-eyed servant believed her story of walking into a door, she held her tongue.

"Miss Meg," Dixon exclaimed in a voice of mounting excitement as she entered the kitchen, "you have a guest!"

Meg looked up from her ironing, a surprised expression on her face. "Who is calling at this hour of the morning?" she asked incredulously.

Dixon smiled and crossed her arms on her ample breast. "You'll not guess who it is. Mr. Henry Lennox."

Meg's heart dropped. She had no idea who Henry Lennox was, or why he would be here. She had received a letter from her cousin Edith, and vaguely remembered that Edith's husband was Captain Lennox-could this be a relative who had come to bring her news of Edith?

"What does he want, Dixon, did he say?" she asked, hoping to solicit more information about this visitor.

Dixon shrugged and replied, "He didn't say, Miss. He asked to speak with you. Here, take off your apron and see what he is about. I'll finish the ironing." Meg uneasily removed her apron and headed for the parlor.

As she opened the parlor door, a handsome young man turned from the window. A broad smile crossed his face and with two strides he was before her, clasping both her hands in his.

"Margaret," he exclaimed. "My dearest Margaret, I came as soon as I received your letter. It was misdirected to my previous address. I moved six months ago, did not Edith tell you? By the time it reached me, I was on holiday in Europe for eight weeks. Pray forgive my delay! The moment I received it, however, you may believe I made all haste to Milton." He stood smiling down at her expectantly.

Dear God, what was in that letter? Meg wondered frantically. Smiling politely, she removed her hands from his clasp. "Mr. Lennox, how good it is to see you again. To what do I owe this visit?"

His smile slipped, and he stared at her. "Surely you remember your letter to me, Margaret? And why are you being so formal? You have called me Henry many times before now."

"Forgive me, Henry, but it has been months since I wrote that letter and many more since I last saw you. To which part of my letter do you refer?"

He stared at her. "To the part where you told me you had a change of heart concerning my proposal of marriage."

She gaped at him. "A change of heart? Did I say yes or no?"

Henry frowned. Reaching into the breast pocket of his coat, he withdrew the missive in question and held it out to her.

"Is this some sort of game to you, Margaret?" he asked coldly. "Very well, I will play along. When I asked for your hand in marriage at Helstone, you told me that you had no desire to marry. However, in your letter, you told me that you had changed your mind and would welcome my offer. Therefore, I have made all haste to Milton to renew my suit. I cannot believe that you would trifle with me again. I desire nothing so much as to marry you, and am hopeful that you feel the same."

Meg took a step toward him, and plucked the letter from his grasp. Unfolding the paper, she quickly scanned the lines and nearly groaned aloud.

Margaret had written him that she hated Milton and could not bear to remain in such a dismal town, though she had been there but a day. She was willing to leave her mother and father and come to London if only Henry would renew his suit. She realized she had made a mistake and now wanted to become his wife.

Meg remembered the half-written letter to Edith that she had read, but could not believe that Margaret would agree to marry this man, no matter how pleasant or polished he was, just to escape from Milton. No mention of love or affection was made in this letter or in the one she had begun to Edith.

Meg felt a stab of pity for Henry Lennox. She said gently, as she returned the letter to him, "Believe me, Henry, I am not trifling with you. I-"

Before she could finish, he surged forward and hugged her to him. "I knew you were too good to trifle with me," he exclaimed in relief. "You have made me the happiest of men, Margaret," he proclaimed. He went down on one knee in front of her, and clasping her hand asked, "Will you do me the honor-"

"Henry-" Meg interrupted, wondering how she could possibly explain that she could not marry him despite what she had written, when she heard her father's voice in the hallway.

"Meg," Mr. Hale exclaimed, "Mr. Thornton is here to see you...." His voice died away as he saw the lover-like tableaux before him. "Mr. Lennox, I did not know you were visiting," Mr. Hale said in astonishment, looking from Meg to Henry.

Meg tugged Henry to his feet, irritated to be caught in such a ridiculous position by her father and Mr. Thornton. Glancing quickly at Mr. Thornton, she noted his thunderstruck expression and felt her heart plummet. She turned to Henry to ask him to go, but he anticipated her words.

"I was just leaving, Mr. Hale. I beg your pardon." Turning to Meg with an embarrassed expression, he clasped her hands in his and said softly, "I will return tomorrow, Margaret, when we may be private. I will hope to have a chance to speak with your father tomorrow, as well." His eyes danced with anticipation, and he raised her hands to his lips, kissing each in turn.

After shaking hands with Mr. Hale and nodding politely to Mr. Thornton, Henry left the room. She could hear him whistling as he descended the steps, leaving no doubt that he believed his suit would be accepted with pleasure.

Meg blushed with vexation to be caught in such a situation and to have Mr. Thornton of all people witness it. She had no intention of marrying Henry Lennox, but feared that the real Margaret obviously did. What if he was the man the real Margaret loved?

She could not stand the idea of ruining Margaret's life, but did she really intend to marry Mr. Lennox just to escape from Milton? If I met you at this moment, Margaret Hale, I would be hard pressed not to slap you, Meg thought angrily.

"I, um, I believe I will see how your mother is faring," Mr. Hale stuttered, and quickly left the room.

Meg stood in a defensive posture, silent and angry, arms crossed on her chest. Mr. Thornton slowly removed his hat and gloves and set them upon a table.

"Forgive my intrusion, Miss Hale," he said in a cold voice that belied the seething jealousy coursing through him. When he entered the house, his heart beat thickly at the thought that he would see her again. He was in an agony of half-hope and half-fear, thinking of how she might respond to his proposal. Would she place those soft arms about his neck, and shed a few tears of happiness? Would she lay her head upon his chest and nestle in his arms? Or would she refuse his suit? He was aquiver with hope, but, upon seeing Mr. Lennox holding her hands, he forgot these emotions in the overwhelming desire to knock that strange man to the ground.

"I suppose I am to wish you happy," he added stiffly.

"You are to do nothing of the kind," Meg snapped. "I have no intention of marrying Mr. Lennox, despite what you saw when you entered the room."

Mr. Thornton's scowl faded. "He obviously believes otherwise," he replied evenly.

"Well, he is wrong," she exclaimed. "I will not marry a man whom I do not love," she said firmly, and turned to face him. "What can I do for you, Mr. Thornton?"

He recollected his purpose. "I owe you a debt of gratitude, Miss Hale, for your actions yesterday," he explained in a low, even voice. "I must have seemed quite ungrateful to you at the time."

"Nonsense," Meg replied hurriedly. "You owe me nothing. I did what I would have done for anyone in a similar situation." She was burning with embarrassment still at Henry's actions; her cheeks were afire and she felt decidedly off balance. She had no desire to prolong Mr. Thornton's effusions of gratitude. "You are under no obligation to me," she added hastily.

"Nevertheless, I choose to believe that I owe my very life to you. I am in your debt," he reiterated, "and it is my intent to repay that debt."

"What do you mean?" she asked curiously, and was surprised to see a flush of embarrassment darken his complexion. He turned from her and toyed with a pawn on a nearby chessboard.

"Our household servants saw you rush outside and confront the crowd," he said in a constrained voice. "They say you have as much as declared your intent towards me."

Meg gazed at him incredulously. "You are concerned about the gossip of a few servants?" she asked.

"It is not just a few servants, Miss Hale," he explained, placing the pawn back on the board. "The mill workers witnessed your intercession as well."

"I interceded to prevent violence," Meg exclaimed. "That does not mean that I love you."

A slight smile crossed Mr. Thornton's face. "I did not say that you loved me," he replied gently, and she in turn blushed.

"That is what you were implying," she replied steadily, lowering her gaze from his. "In any event, I am not worried about idle chatter. God knows the people in this town have enough to say about my comings and goings from Doctor Donaldson's house, and the nursing that I do in the Princeton district."

"I have heard talk of that, too, Miss Hale, and it disturbs me greatly to hear the daughter of my friend discussed in such a lowering manner. My intent today was to offer you the protection of my name," he asserted earnestly. He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, awkward in his desire to describe exactly how he felt. "I claim the right to express my feelings."

She looked at him, clearly not comprehending his intent, and he added in a goaded voice, "I have come to ask you to marry me." The speech came out of him almost against his will; he stood with his fists balled against his side, as if each word caused him disquiet.

Meg gaped at him, speechless. Once again, she had received a proposal of marriage where no declaration was made concerning love. Did these men not know how to propose to a woman? Did they think a woman would consider marriage where no word of love was spoken? The injured soldiers at the hospital who had proposed to her had been much more genuine and heartfelt in their approach.

Mr. Thornton obviously was prepared to sacrifice himself in order to save her reputation. It was a noble gesture, but entirely unnecessary as far as Meg was concerned. Oddly enough, she experienced a surge of injured pride. For weeks now, she had fought off her attraction to this enigmatic man, only to have him offer her marriage as a means of recovering her reputation. Practically speaking, she could not marry him, knowing that she would eventually return to her own time. Impractically speaking, she vowed she could not marry him if he did not love her.

She said in a shaking voice, "No, thank you, Mr. Thornton. It is a most generous offer, and I do not doubt you mean well, but I will not marry you just to save my reputation." She found that she could not meet his gaze.

"I don't want to marry you to save your reputation," he responded in an urgent tone as he moved toward her, so that he towered above her. "I want to marry you because I love you!" He stopped as if to gather his thoughts, and continued in a quiet and contained tone, "I have never loved any woman before. My life has been too busy, my thoughts too much absorbed in other things." He stopped abruptly, struggling with some strong emotion. "In spite of all of this, I find myself in love with you. Tell me, is there hope for me that you return my regard?"

Her heart leapt at his words, and she fought the impulse to throw herself into his arms. It came to her suddenly, like a blow to the side of her head, twice as powerful as the one she had received just the day before - she loved this man! Her legs felt weak and her head light as she admitted to herself - she loved him. She instantly tamped down her desire to blurt out this discovery. She was not Margaret Hale, but some imposter living her life. She could not make such a momentous decision given her circumstances and uncertain future.

Before she could contain herself, she stammered, "I do care for you, in fact, I-" She broke off. She could not tell him that she loved him; he was just the man to double his pursuit if she said those fateful words. She could not explain to him that she was from the future and would have to return to that future at some undefined point in time. He would think she had escaped from Bedlam. Better to break his heart and drive him from her than to marry him and disappear one day. She stole a glance at his hopeful, expectant face, shining with anticipation, and her heart ached at what she had to do.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Thornton, but I cannot marry you," she replied as evenly as she could, and her heart ached to see the hope die from his face and be replaced with cold reserve and repugnance.

"May I ask why?" he asked, struggling with his anger and disappointment.

"I do not love you," she lied, her heart constricting in her breast.

He stood for a moment, attempting to master his heartache, before he found his voice. "Forgive me for accosting you with my feelings, Miss Hale," he said stiffly. "I will bother you no longer." Striding to the entryway, he snatched his hat from the table and left the room. Seconds later, she heard the front door slam. The echoes reverberated throughout the quiet house.

Meg slumped into a chair, ashamed of the lies she had told. He was a good and decent man, and she had deliberately hurt him. She knew she had done the right thing-how could she marry when she did not know what the future held for her?-yet she was heartsick at what she had given up. She fought the tears that pressed against the backs of her eyes and stung her nose. She had done the right thing, she knew she had, but at what a price!

Worse still, she must face Henry Lennox and respond to his impending offer; that unpleasant scene awaited her on the morrow. She wondered momentarily about Margaret's reason for accepting Mr. Lennox's suit-did she have a change of heart and realize she loved him, or did she encourage his suit in order to escape from Milton? If Margaret truly loved Henry Lennox, Meg must not give him a disgust of her, but find some way to fend him off indefinitely. In the meantime, Meg had turned down the offer of the first man she had ever loved, and chafed at the pain she had caused him.

Gazing numbly about the room, she spied Mr. Thornton's gloves on the side table. He had forgotten them in his haste to remove himself from her presence. She started up and clasped them to her breast. Without thinking, she moved toward the door and threw it open to call to him so that she might return the gloves.

However, a sudden thought made her pause and close the door. She must be practical, she reminded herself; his gloves might be her means back through the looking glass. She found cold comfort in that thought. She lifted the gloves and pressed them to her cheek for a moment, fancying they were still warm from his hands. When she lowered them, she saw that they were stained with tears.

Meg spent the remainder of the day in a flurry of activity, a feeble attempt to push all thoughts of Mr. Thornton from her mind. She read to her mother, transcribed her father's notes, and performed the many small chores that seemed to inexplicably multiply in this household of four people. Each time she recalled the stunned expression on Mr. Thornton's face, a wave of sadness came over her and she struggled with an urge to run to Marlborough Mills, storm into Mr. Thornton's office, and declare her love for him. When she sprang up occasionally during the day, aggrieved that she had lied to him and not told him that she reciprocated his feelings, she fought to remind herself of her situation: she was not Margaret Hale, and had no right to make such a momentous decision.