Margaret of the North (51 page)

By the third week, everyone
assumed, that Mrs. Thornton was going to stay the weekend.  From then on,
spending such Saturdays with her son's family became a habit for Mrs.
Thornton.  She began to nurture a real affection for the child who was bright
and alert and whose round blue eyes, very much like her mother's, were
expressive and curious.  They were beautiful eyes, Mrs. Thornton thought one
day, this child's and Margaret's.  The thought startled her and made her look
in the direction of her daughter-in-law who was then reading a book aloud to
John while he was going through some mill accounts.  Once again, she saw the
two wrapped up in each other, seemingly oblivious of their surroundings. 
Margaret had just read an apparently humorous book and they laughed and talked
about passages in it.

Mrs. Thornton was struck by how
much John had changed.  He was actually busier and more involved in the mill
now but, at home, he was relaxed, gentle, funny, and openly affectionate
towards his wife.  Somewhere and sometime during the two years or so that he
had been married, he had let go of that reserve that Mrs. Thornton thought was
natural to the Thorntons and even the women they had married, at least until
Margaret.  She also saw, as if for the first time, that Margaret was indeed
quite beautiful especially when she looked at John with radiant eyes and a
tender smile on her lips.  In those moments, she was utterly bewitching and
Mrs. Thornton thought that if this was how John saw Margaret, then it was no
wonder he seemed so smitten with his wife.

Mrs. Thornton felt a pang of
remorse for her past resentment towards Margaret.  She did not deny that
Margaret continued, at least occasionally, to make her feel left out, alone and
totally supplanted but now, she allowed that her daughter-in-law never
deliberately did anything to do so, that it was not her fault that John was
sometimes so completely absorbed in her that he was oblivious of his mother. 
It was thus that the transformation of Mrs. Thornton's attitude towards
Margaret actually began.  By the time John told his mother that he and Margaret
intended to visit Helstone and the adjoining coast on their second anniversary,
Mrs. Thornton was more agreeably predisposed towards Margaret.

**************

At dinner on a Friday evening,
two weeks before the projected trip, John started the usual conversation by
informing his mother of the trip.

Mrs. Thornton asked, "Are
you taking Elise with you?"

John looked at his wife and
answered.  "Margaret is apprehensive about leaving her alone with Dixon
and Mary but I am insisting on having my wife to myself for one week.  What
harm could happen in such a short period?"

Margaret smiled and shrugged. 
"We have not decided with certainty about what to do."

Mrs. Thornton addressed her son. 
"I understand how Margaret feels.  She has strong maternal instincts with
which I am familiar and which you, being a man, can never know about."

John and Margaret, both
pleasantly surprised, simultaneously stared at her.  Mrs. Thornton smiled at
them mildly, amused at their reaction.  Then, she said to Margaret, "I can
stay and supervise her care while you're gone.  Will you be more at ease with
that?"

Margaret, even more startled at
this offer, broke into a broad smile, her eyes suddenly moist.  "Yes, why,
yes!"  She was too overcome to do more than acquiesce, her maternal
apprehensions quelled by the unexpected kindness and generosity of her
mother-in-law.  She did not pause then to consider that this arrangement did
not change the possibility that her daughter might fret and cry over her
mother's absence.  Despite their differences, Margaret did not doubt that Mrs.
Thornton's gifts and skills at mothering were at least equal to, if not better,
than her own.  In any case, it had not been lost on her that Elise and her
grandmother were steadily growing fond of each other.

"I cannot take care of her
the way you do.  For one, she is too heavy for me to lift and carry but I have
led her by the hand as we walked in the garden and, if Mary puts her on my lap,
I can read to her.  I would certainly be happy to stay here with her while you
are away and with Mary and Dixon, we can make sure she is content and properly
cared for."

John looked at his mother with
grateful smiling eyes and turned to Margaret.  "It seems mother just put
an end to our argument."

"Yes," was all the
reply Margaret could utter in a slightly quivering voice and she turned towards
Mrs. Thornton with eyes moister than before.  "Thank you!"

Mrs. Thornton nodded, embarrassed
by the obvious show of sincere gratitude on the countenance of someone she had
treated as a stranger, a visitor who would eventually leave.  She was touched,
ready to express the kindlier regard towards Margaret that she finally gave
herself permission to cultivate.  It surprised her how tranquil and easy she
was to have at least some regard supplant hatred and jealousy.  That night, she
went to sleep, at peace, in her old room.  She told herself that she could
never love Margaret as she did her own daughter but it gratified her, anyway,
that she could finally see Margaret as she really was.

That same night, as soon as they
gained the privacy of their room, Margaret turned to John and buried her face
on his shoulders.  John clasped her close, caressing her back as little
convulsions shook her upper body and her tears wet his shirt.  He had watched
her when his mother offered to stay with Elise and knew that it took Margaret
all her self-control to prevent her tears from coming.  Across the two years
they had been married, he had learned that his wife had the strange habit of
crying when she was both grateful and happy.  Yet, she could also hold her
tears back tenaciously when she was hurt and angry—he could tell she was
overcome by such emotions from her eyes which either flashed fiercely or was
clouded with sorrow.

John stayed silent through her
tearful happy outburst, kissing her wet face occasionally.  Eventually, she
calmed down, raised her head, gave him her half-smile, and without a word,
walked slowly to her dressing room to prepare for bed.  She looked back at him
and the words, "I love you" broke from her lips without a sound. 
Then, she disappeared into her dressing room.

When John went to bed, Margaret
was already there, peacefully asleep.  He gazed at her for a moment before he
climbed in, snuggled close, and went to sleep.

**************

John and Margaret did not talk
about that Friday night conversation with Mrs. Thornton until they had been on
their trip for a few days and had left Helstone.  On a leisurely walk along the
coast, Margaret brought the matter up.  "I had always hoped Hannah would
learn to accept me, if not actually like me, as your wife.  I did not expect
that she would ever show me any affection.  My only hope when she got back from
London was that we could tolerate each other well enough.  When she sided with me
that night and smiled at me with such gentleness, I was incredulous. 
Incredulous and grateful."

John smiled warmly at her but he
did not reply.  They walked for some distance before Margaret spoke again. 
"Do you suppose she will consent to coming back to live with us?  She and
Elise seem to have developed a special closeness."

John smiled indulgently and with
some amusement at his wife's childlike trust.  "Did it not occur to you,
my sweet little wife that, perhaps, she can be more generous with her affection
because she lives in her own house where she can once again rule?  I think
tension will return at home if she returns."

"You are probably right but
I am still in awe of how events have turned out.  I thought that when she
returned from London, she might be more favorably disposed towards me but her
attitude has changed beyond anything I ever hoped for.  I have often wondered
whether something happened in London."

He looked at her thoughtfully but
did not answer.  Then, after walking a few more minutes, he said, "If you
must know, mother and I did have some sort of confrontation on the afternoon I
left London."

Margaret glanced curiously at
him, looked away, and waited for him to continue.  She had, in fact, suspected
as much.

"She wanted me to understand
why she said so many harsh hurtful things to you.  She assumed that you had
told me about them."

Margaret did not reply, staring
resolutely, instead, at the footsteps made by those who had strolled along the
same path, still intact in the sand, resistant to the waves that swept over
them.

"I asked her what hurtful
things she said.  She was, of course, hesitant to tell me but, eventually, she
did.  I stormed out of the house in anger and walked towards the train station
meaning to come home to you right away and show you how sorry I was.  But I
must have taken the wrong direction and found myself at a park.  Anyway, I sat
on a bench for some time and when I calmed down, I returned to the house.  I
told her that I did understand how she felt and why she might have said those
things to you but I also told her very emphatically that she would be taking my
happiness, my main reason for living away from me if her words caused you to
leave me.  I am sure that what I said made her think hard."

Margaret stayed silent and they
continued their walk at a slower pace.  Memories of the confrontation with Mrs.
Thornton still pained her, and for some moments, it marred the regard she had
started to feel for her mother-in-law.  Then, she reminded herself that nothing
but distress, unhappiness, and confusion attended such recollections and,
anyway, was it not pleasanter to dwell instead on what she meant to John? 
Farther into their walk, Margaret said, "It is not going to be that easy
to make me leave you."

"You did consider going to
London to ease the tension with my mother.  That bothered me immensely.  Was
that shortly after that unfortunate encounter?"

Margaret paused in her steps and
reached up to caress his cheeks.  "How long do you suppose can I stay away
from you?  The night you were in London, I slept fitfully and kept reaching out
to where you usually lie."

John grasped her hand, pressed it
to his lips, and in a tone hoarse and contrite, said, "Words are not
enough to express how sorry I am about my mother's cruel words to you."

She smiled tremulously at him and
kissed the hand that grasped hers.  They stood, gazing at each other.  After
some time, she said, "Let's not dwell on it.  The day is too beautiful and
we only have a day left to enjoy the coast."

He nodded and placed his arm
around her shoulders and they resumed their walk.

**************

The trip to Helstone meant much
to Margaret.  When she last visited it nearly three years ago with Mr. Bell,
her experience had not been entirely pleasant.  She thought the town would
always have a special niche in her heart, but that visit reminded her too
painfully of people who had been most dear to her but who she had lost.  She
was convinced, at the time, that she would never want to return to Helstone and
would have to content herself with her memories of it.  Later, on looking back,
she realized that wounds from the loss of people she cared for and of the love
she was too inexperienced and too proud to reciprocate had still pestered and
affected her perceptions of the village.  But time had once more wrought
changes, happy ones that had given her hope that returning to Helstone with
John would bring back at least some of the old pleasures the place gave her. 
Margaret wanted to show John where she had grown up but, in her heart, she knew
this visit was as much for her as for him.   It was, perhaps, like an attempt
on her part to rekindle deep sentiments that had strayed.

She took him through the many
paths she used to walk; the stumps of trees and grassy mounds she had sat on
as—engulfed by the beauty around her—she did sketches of the scenery; the
secret nooks that she and Frederick used to hide in; the spots where hedgerows
of roses used to grow; and even the neighborhoods she had visited with her
mother on parish business.  She wanted him to see and feel what growing up in
Helstone was like for her—to step on a thick carpet of grass, so rare in
Milton, and have it release an herbal fragrance that lingered on her shoes and
the hem of her skirt; to catch her breath as bright red poppies swayed
gracefully with the breeze that also cooled her cheeks; to listen to the music
the wind made with the grass, the trees, and everything else in its path; to
keep discovering pieces of nature in all its varied beauty.  On one of their walks,
a well-trodden path that parishioners took to the church and the parson's
house, they happened upon the hedgerow of roses John found on his first visit
to Helstone and from which he plucked the rose he offered her.  She had missed
those bushes on the walk with Mr. Bell in her previous visit.

The parson's house was the only
social visit they planned in Helstone.  John recollected having walked by it on
his solitary visit because it was the largest house in the area on the south
edge of the town.  Margaret had written the parson, informing him that she was
coming with her husband.  When they arrived, tea had been waiting and the
parson's wife received them with more than the usual courtesy accorded to
relative strangers.

Margaret was curious to see how the
parson and his wife would react when she introduced John as someone born and
bred in an industrial city in the north where he was now a manufacturer of
cotton.  Recalling the remark the parson's wife made about the wild north,
Margaret felt a perverse delight in presenting her husband, looking tranquil
and nobler in his countenance and bearing than the parson ever could.  It
amused her that the couple and even their children treated John with deference
often accorded to landed gentry.  At one point during tea, the parson offered
them a room in the house during their stay in Helstone and he kept apologizing
for the modesty of the accommodations.  John and Margaret politely and
graciously declined, saying that they had already checked into an inn in town.