Margaret of the North (53 page)

Margaret hesitated, "I do
want to but I am uneasy about leaving Elise for too long and I may not be able
to come to the mill as often as I would want nor stay as much as I need to. 
Her needs come first."

Mrs. Thornton smiled gently and,
once again, proposed a solution.  "Why not just bring her and Mary along to
the mill?  You can leave them here with me.  My apartment would be a cozy place
for Elise to play and rest while you are doing what you have to do at the
mill."

By now, the attachment between
Elise and her grandmother was obvious and still growing so Margaret was no
longer as surprised at the offer as when Mrs. Thornton first proposed to help
care for Elise during the week she and John visited Helstone.  But she
continued to be in awe of what the offer signified and was, therefore, no less
grateful.  She smiled warmly and replied, "That would certainly ease my
mind considerably because I can come and see her here anytime I have a break in
my tasks.  I would not have to rush home right away.  Thank you so much.  I
will bring her and Mary starting tomorrow.  Is that all right?"

"Of course.  In fact, come
and have lunch with me then.  Maybe, you can persuade John to come along."

Mrs. Thornton was actually quite
satisfied at this arrangement.  She desired, discreetly, to have a hand in
molding Elise, possibly into the kind of daughter she would have wanted, one
who knew and cared about her father's business as much as she did.  When Elise
was old enough she meant to teach her all she knew about it.  But Mrs. Thornton
was also grateful to have Elise at that time for another reason.  Elise
provided her the pleasant absorbing preoccupation she needed to distract her
from the work that had been going on in the rooms below her apartment ever
since her return from London.  She was relieved that it was finally nearing completion
but its impending opening bothered her.

Mrs. Thornton continued to
believe that anything done for workers outside of directly improving working
conditions were misguided favors to them—potential sources of trouble that
could backfire and, maybe, even cause strikes when they raise workers'
expectations unrealistically.  But she no longer voiced her opinions about the
mill to either John or Margaret and they never asked her.  In any case, Mrs.
Thornton told herself that what went on below her apartment and inside the mill
was no longer her concern.

She was certain the money to pay
for the clinic came from Margaret's inheritance and that meant she had no right
to concern herself with the clinic.  Still, she believed it was easy for
Margaret to use her inheritance so freely because she came by it without having
to sweat blood and tears the way she, herself, did to help her son get his
mill.  At such moments, Mrs. Thornton's resentment towards her daughter-in-law
returned.  But watching Elise at play, Mrs. Thornton would relent again, struck
by how like her mother this trusting affectionate little girl was, not only in
looks but also in her many gestures and expressions.  She thought then that
there must be a lot of Elise in Margaret.  Besides, why blame Margaret solely
when John most probably decided that the clinic was a worthwhile effort?  He
would not have gone along with it if he did not think so.

The clinic opened as scheduled,
without fanfare, and marked only by signs posted on the gate to the courtyard
and the doors to the mill and the dining hall.  Initially, very few people
came.  On the first day, two women sought Catherine out with complaints about a
headache for which she dispensed some medicines for free.  Word of the free
medicine was probably passed around because, the following day, a few more
women came with the same complaints. 

On the third day Dr. Hartley
arrived in the afternoon to see his first patients.  When he heard from
Catherine what had been happening, he asked her to send in the first patient
who came in with a headache.  He wanted to be certain that the rash of
headaches was not a sign of some common illness, either spreading all around
Milton or locally.  The first such patient balked—seeing the doctor meant
paying some fee that she did not have.  When Catherine told the doctor, he
directed her to tell the patient that the first visit to the doctor was free. 
While this arrangement was not agreed upon between him and the Thorntons, Dr.
Hartley was certain they would not object.  After all, the initial plans were
to provide totally free medical services.  Word of the free first visit to the
doctor was spread around and, on the second week, so many workers and their
families asked to see him that Catherine began scheduling patients.

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

The medical clinic was well
underway and, to Margaret's relief, apparently bringing in patients.  For a few
weeks after it opened, she stayed away from the mill and spent the quiet hours
she had for herself painting.  When John talked about what was happening in the
clinic including Dr. Hartley's declaration of free first visits, she merely
nodded with a smile.  Margaret was happy that her first major endeavor for the
mill proceeded without a hitch but now, it was no longer in her hands and she
preferred it that way.  The responsibility for keeping it going rested on Dr.
Hartley and Catherine.

Getting the clinic started had
consumed her so much in mind and spirit that she was, for the moment, exhausted
and unable to concentrate on anything but her usual daily tasks and her
painting.  It was quite obviously a different sort of exhaustion from that she
suffered mourning all the losses she had gone through when she first lived in
Milton.  But it had similar effects.  She needed time to take stock, to
reflect, to regain some state not so much of tranquility but of being back on
an even keel.  This time, she had Elise to distract her, her painting to pour
her feelings on to, and John to comfort her and hold her in his arms as she
fell asleep.

John knew that something was
going on with Margaret because the nervous energy he had seen in her during the
last few weeks of work on the clinic had been replaced by a calmness in her
manner, her countenance, and in her conversations.  She did not talk as much
and she clung to him more.  He did not ask her questions but, at night, he held
her close and, when he made love to her, he was more gentle and even playful.

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

Margaret regained her usual
spirit and energy in due time and her thoughts inevitably turned to her plans
of a school for the children of the mill.  She did not plunge into them,
however, as she had done with the clinic.  The school was going to be a more
difficult task to realize.  As it was, she had not yet found a way of persuading
parents to allow children to take time out from work and come regularly to a
place where they could learn to read and write.

Her mother had managed the
parochial school in Helstone, where inhabitants had greater faith in their
pastor and in the authority of the parish.  Mrs. Hale, thus, had an easier task
of telling parents to send their children to school.  It helped, as well, that
work in the farms was seasonal and younger children could easily walk to school
upon finishing their lighter chores in the farm.  With only her experience in
Helstone to draw upon, it was inevitable that Margaret's first step was to
visit the nearby parish, talk to the pastor and possibly seek his opinion on
how to approach parents in Milton about schooling.

The pastor was not hopeful. 
"It is a struggle.  First of all, it is hard to make parents see the need
for children to learn to read and write.  The few that do have no time or are
too exhausted to be bothered to bring their children in."

"I see.  The parish is too
far for most young children to walk to by themselves."

"Yes, so you would not be
surprised to learn that those, who do come, live not too far from here.  But
even so, many do not come regularly.  I suspect that sometimes they are too
weak from hunger to make that walk or muster the enthusiasm to come.  In any
case, how can you teach children who only come sporadically?  And as you very
well know, the older children have to work at the mill so, as far as literacy
is concerned, they are a lost cause."

"How frustrating it must
be.  But, yet, you do keep it going."

"Yes, for the very few who
genuinely like to learn or who believe that they need those skills to rise out
of their present situations.  After a while, you begin to satisfy yourself with
reaching that small handful."  The parson paused, looked at Margaret
intently and asked, "Was your father not a parson somewhere in the south? 
He probably did not have to deal with this problem."

"No, his congregation was
small and not quite so scattered.  And he was probably one of the very few
figures of authority in the village so he or my mother could meet with each
family and gently cajole them to do what was right.  But even in a small hamlet
like Helstone, there are problems, although they are different from those in a
large modern city like Milton."  Margaret started to rise from her seat. 
"I must not take any more of your time.  Thank you for talking so frankly
with me."

The pastor nodded, rose from his
seat and extended a hand to Margaret, "I am sorry I could not give you the
answers you need but I will pray that you find a way to interest these parents
on schooling.  My advice is do not be discouraged.  If you can help one or two
of these children, then you would be doing them a world of good and that may be
enough."

The conversation with the parson
persuaded Margaret that, for the moment at least, she should focus on the one
thing she was certain she could accomplish: sending Thomas Boucher to a
boarding school.  She returned to the mill one afternoon a couple of months after
the clinic opened, finally prepared to look at what she had created there.  She
also intended to catch Nicholas Higgins during a break in his work to talk to
him about Thomas.  Nicholas needed no convincing that Thomas was better off
going to school than working in the mill but he was reluctant to have someone
in his family singled out for special favors by the Thorntons.  Margaret
assured him that, though Thomas was the first child she and John were helping,
he was not likely to be the last.  They meant to seek other children with
potential and offer as many of them as they could the same opportunity.  Thomas
was going to set an example for other parents and children of what was possible
to attain with further education.  So long as Thomas continued to be diligent
and to advance in his studies, the Thorntons intended to pay for his education
until he chose some profession with which to earn his living.

Earlier that evening, Margaret
sat in John's office, waiting for him to finish his work so they could all go
home in a cab.  She had brought Elise who was now in Mrs. Thornton's apartment
with Mary.  Margaret sat, relaxing for a while, enjoying her solitude, her mind
wandering through the three years she had been married and how full it had
been.  She had given birth not only to a daughter but to a medical clinic and
now she was contemplating on doing more.  She thought about her parents who she
knew would have been proud of what she had been doing, her father, in
particular.  It gratified her to find John very enthusiastic about sending
Thomas to a good boarding school.   He apparently had always been interested in
the boy's welfare and, a few times in the past, had helped him along in his
reading.  She sensed in her husband a particular fondness for Thomas.

Margaret's thoughts were
interrupted when she heard John come in.  He smiled brightly and gave her a
peck on the lips.  "I knew you were coming today but I did not see you at
all today.  Until now.  Did you talk to Nicholas?"

"Yes, briefly; it did not take
much to convince him but he was anxious not to have his family singled
out."

"You did tell him you
intended to send others, if you can find them."

"Yes, of course.  Now, I
have to concentrate on selecting a boarding school and making all the
preparations for sending him off."

"I am glad.  Thomas has a
much better future ahead of him than all these other children here."

"You think something is
special about him, don't you?"

John replied, smiling as he
reminisced.  "As a matter of fact, I do.  I first saw him sitting outside
my office, reading and waiting for Nicholas one evening after work.  Higgins
told me later that you had been teaching Thomas to read.  In my mind, at the
time, he was the son you and I would never have so I suppose I wanted him to have
the opportunities my own son would have."

She laughed at his revelation. 
John looked at her, puzzled, and had her laugh not been so spontaneous, it
would have irritated him as well.  "You find humor in that?"

"Well, yes.  You know
Edith's son Sholto.  When I moved to London, I was the only one who could
subdue his temperamental outbursts.  I used to take him into his nursery, close
the door, and he and I would have a battle of wills that always ended with him
hugging me with tearful, puffy eyes, quite exhausted.  I developed an
attachment to him and he, to me."

"I fail to see what that has
to do with my fondness for Thomas."

"I will tell you.  Sholto
was very sweet and trusting in his affection but I confess mine sprang partly
from a sad awareness that it was the closest I would ever come to being a
mother.  So, you see, I played pretend as well."

Mollified by her explanation, he
smiled broadly and asked, teasing, "but Henry Lennox?"

She arched an eyebrow at him and
considered whether she should answer a question to which he already knew the
response.  Then, in a moment of insight, she realized that her husband never
tired of hearing her reassurances of love and he likewise took pleasure in
giving her the same in both words and actions.  They gazed at each other for a
long minute during which he waited in anticipation and she softened into
tenderness.