Chapter 16. Advice from a Caterpillar

Several days after Meg received flowers from Mr. Thornton, Mr. Hale stood in the hallway of his home, preparing to take his daily walk. He had just wound a scarf carefully about his neck when a knock sounded on the door. Wondering who might be calling at this hour, he shuffled forward to open it. To his surprise, Mrs. Thornton stood upon the stoop, dressed entirely in black like a great, grim crow.

"Mrs. Thornton," Mr. Hale exclaimed, "How do you do? How kind it is of you to pay us a call!"

"Good morning, Mr. Hale. I am here to speak with your daughter," she explained in her usual curt tones. "Is she in?"

"Yes, she is. We were just preparing to take our daily walk. Please," he said politely as he moved toward the stairs, "come up to the parlor and I will fetch her to you." Mrs. Thornton inclined her head politely, and followed him. Once she was settled, Mr. Hale hurried up the steps to Meg's room and knocked on her door. When she bade him enter, he peered around the half-open door and said softly, "Mrs. Thornton has come to call. She wishes to speak with you."

"Me," exclaimed Meg in surprise and alarm, removing her bonnet from her head. "Whatever could she want with me?"

Mr. Hale looked mystified. "I do not know, my dear, but you best make haste. I will take my walk without you for today." She heard his light step on the stairs and, moments later, the sound of the front door shutting.

Meg raised her eyes to the ceiling in exasperation. What could Mrs. Thornton possibly have to say to her? Casting her mind back, she thought of her recent conversation with Fanny the night of the Thornton's dinner. Fanny has asked if Meg knew of a certain piece of music, and Meg had offered to ask her cousin Edith if she could procure this music. Edith had sent it with her last letter. Meg went to the desk and retrieved the melody. Squaring her shoulders as if going into battle, she stepped into the hallway and descended the stairs to the parlor.

Mrs. Thornton sat rigidly upright in one of the wing chairs, and had a decidedly determined look about her. When she first learned of her son's intent of offering marriage to Miss Hale, she had been prepared to try to like this frank young woman. However, when John returned home and admitted that she had refused him, and she had witnessed his silent grief and sorrow, a strong hatred grew within Mrs. Thornton that this strange chit, this nobody from the South, would rebuff a man who was ten times her worth. She nursed her hatred and it solidified into implacable resentment against Miss Hale.

While she rejoiced that this girl would never be kin to her, she despised her as well. She would rather never speak with Miss Hale again, but a promise was a promise, and she had vowed to Mrs. Hale to watch over Meg and help her if she saw her taking the wrong path. Heaven knows, standing about a train station late at night with a strange young man was not the correct thing to do, and Mrs. Thornton intended to let her know just that.

As Meg entered the room, she noted her visitor's grim expression and thought it was unlikely that Mrs. Thornton had come to Crampton to discuss musical airs. "Good morning, Mrs. Thornton," she said politely, "How kind of you to call. May I offer you any refreshment?"

Mrs. Thornton shook her head. "Miss Hale, I have come here today to do my duty to your mother." At Meg's puzzled look, she continued, "Before your mother died, she asked me to look out for you. I promised her that I would attempt to counsel you if I ever saw or heard of you doing wrong."

She looked away from Meg's gaze and continued, "When I learned that you had been seen out after dark with a young man, I thought to warn you against such behavior. Many a young woman has lost her character behaving in such a way, and after your indiscretion at the train station-well, it showed poor judgment on your part that it made me feel relieved you had rejected my son's offer of marriage."

Meg felt a slow flush rise from her neck and suffuse her face. She was furious, with Mrs. Thornton for her impertinent words, and with herself once again for her actions of that night. Would that Fred had gone to the station by himself!

As Mrs. Thornton attempted to continue on her homily, Meg interrupted, "Mrs. Thornton, please stop. I will not listen to anymore of your accusations. I do not have to answer to you for my actions."

"Nevertheless, Miss Hale, whatever were you thinking to be at a deserted location late at night with a strange man? Do you know what the town folk are saying, that they believe you have a lover?"

Meg exclaimed hotly, "I have no lover, and I have done nothing wrong. If those who slander me only knew the truth-" she began, but bit off the rest of her words.

"What truth? Why can't you be honest and explain your actions?" Mrs. Thornton demanded.

"I owed an explanation to my father alone, and he has accepted it. Since he has no qualms about my actions that night, neither should the rest of Milton." Seeing that she had offended her visitor, she hurried on, "Mrs. Thornton, I do not mean to insult or disparage you, for I believe you have the best intentions at heart. But I cannot answer more than I have without betraying a confidence. Women, as well as men, have honor."

Mrs. Thornton rose from her seat. "Very well, Miss Hale, I have done my duty to your mother. Your actions are on your own head." Turning to leave, she espied the large vase of roses and larkspur in a place of honor on the sideboard. Eying them suspiciously, she asked pointedly, "Are those flowers from an admirer, Miss Hale?"

Meg smiled softly and said, "You might say that," and escorted her admirer's mother to the door.

********

Following this unpleasant interview, Meg felt decidedly restless and informed Dixon of her intent to purchase material for a new pelisse and gown. Dixon was concerned that Meg's garments were becoming worn, given the washings they must endure from the dirt and smoke of this rough Northern town. After much haranguing on Dixon's part, Meg agreed to procure the material so that the servant might sew these garments for her mistress. As Dixon often informed Meg, if she did not know how she should dress for her station, Dixon did and would strive to make sure Meg wore the clothes befitting her status as a gentlewoman.

Meg threw her hands up and conceded, and hastened to the drapers to select the materials Dixon had specified. As she stepped into the shop, she heard her name called in shrill tones, and recognized Fanny standing before the counter, huge mounds of packages wrapped in brown paper and string lying before her.

"Miss Hale," Fanny called out gaily, and brandished her hand to show an engagement ring.

Meg smiled warmly and said, "Congratulations, Miss Thornton!"

"Yes, I am engaged," Fanny said in a fatuous tone. "My Watson wants to buy me anything I desire, but I tell him that my brother is well able to afford my trousseau."

"I am very happy for you," Meg said earnestly, and turned her attention to the bolts of fabric that lined one wall.

"My dear Watson has a plan to speculate that will make ever so much money. John will hear nothing about it," Fanny chattered.

Meg looked at her sharply. She thought of Fanny's father's speculations and the tragedy that had resulted; little wonder Mr. Thornton wanted no parts of such a plan. "Surely Mr. Thornton would never invest in such a speculation?" Meg asked curiously.

Fanny waved her hand airily. "Oh, la, Miss Hale, everyone is doing so!"

Meg merely smiled and wished Mr. Watson and Fanny happy once more before she moved away to the counter to consider the selection of fabric.

Fanny sniffed, and gathered up her packages. Miss Hale was really too much, she thought angrily, acting as if she understood Mr. Thornton better than his own sister. When she reached home and affectionately dispatched Watson to his mill, she told her mother and brother what had passed, and what Miss Hale had said. Mrs. Thornton did not respond beyond tightly pressing her lips together, but Mr. Thornton lowered his paper and glowered at his sister.

"I'll thank you not to discuss my business in the street, Fanny," he said in a low, deadly tone. "You know what I think of Watson's scheme, and I want to hear no more of it."

Fanny gaped at him as two angry flags of color flushed her cheeks. Hastily snatching up her parcels, she flounced from the room. Mr. Thornton stood and walked over to the window, aggravated at his sister and the entire situation.

"Would it be so bad to invest in Mr. Watson's speculation, John?" his mother asked softly.

"You know that it would, Mother," he replied tersely. "You remember what happened before. I have enough money to make payroll, and I hope to prevail upon Mr. Latimer for another loan."

"If you would speak to Miss Latimer..." his mother began in hesitant tones, but her son cut her speech short.

"Let us not discuss that again, Mother," he said tersely, and left the room.

********

When she next visited Nicholas and Mary Higgins, Meg was anxious to learn if Nicholas had indeed spoken with Mr. Thornton about work. Her suggestion that he do so weighed heavily upon her; she feared he would be rebuffed, but hoped she might be wrong. When she arrived, she spent some time distributing the small amount of sweets and fruit she had brought with her to the children, and presented a delighted Mary with several loaves of freshly baked bread, the fruits of her labors that morning. This task completed, she sat down to watch Nicholas dandle the Boucher baby on his knee.

The youngest Boucher had been sick this past week with colic, and Meg had brought an herbal concoction which she mixed with the baby's milk in a bottle. She gave the bottle to Higgins, who fed the baby while he talked to her about the various happenings in the neighborhood. After the baby had eaten, Meg advised that he hold the baby upright to ease his digestion and the pains in his stomach. Nicholas trusted Meg's medical knowledge enough at this stage to follow her instructions without question.

When at last she raised the issue of employment, her hopes plummeted when she saw Nicholas' grim expression and shake of the head. "No, Meg, I asked and received the impertinent answer I expected," he said, sighing deeply.

"Did you explain that you are raising children that are not your own, and need the wages that such work would provide?" Meg prodded.

"I told him I needed work for the family of a man that were driven mad by the thought that his job would be taken by one of those Irish men he brought in, didn't know one end of a loom from another," he replied spiritedly.

"Oh, Nicholas," Meg said sorrowfully, "you lost your temper."

"Aye, I did. He told me I was wasting my time, that he would not give me work." Nicholas looked uneasily at Meg. "I was so angry that I told him I thought he wouldn't, but I'd been urged to ask by a woman who thought he had a bit of kindness about him."

Meg felt her heart sink. "And what did he say?" she asked anxiously.

Nicholas snorted. "He told me to tell that woman to mind her own business next time, and stop wasting his time and mine."

"I am sorry he would not give you a job, Nicholas," Meg said mournfully. "Something must have occurred to put him in a foul humor. I know he is a fair and compassionate man, and I am certain if he knew of your situation, he would offer you work."

A small noise behind them made them both turn. Mr. Thornton stood in the doorway, and it was obvious from his surprised expression that he had overheard their conversation. He is forever sneaking up on me, Meg thought, equal parts embarrassed and irritated. She reddened and removed the baby from Nicholas' arms, stepping away to afford both men a bit of privacy.

"May I speak with you outside, Higgins?" Mr. Thornton asked stiffly, and Nicholas followed him outside, turning before he left to give Meg a brief shrug.

As Higgins joined him on the street, Mr. Thornton seemed at a loss for words. He was silent for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts together before plunging into speech. "I spoke hastily to you the other day, when you came to ask me about a job. I have since asked around, and found that you told me the truth-that you have taken in a dead man's children as your own. I am sorry...." His voice trailed off and he appeared to struggle with his words before he continued, "I have come to ask you if you will take work with me."

Nicholas gazed at him impassively. "You've called me a liar and a troublemaker and a scoundrel, but I need work. I'll accept your offer and that's a good deal for me."

"And that's a good deal for me," Mr. Thornton retorted, thrusting out his hand which Nicholas accepted and shook hard. "Now mind to your time, for what times we have we keep sharp." He speared him with a gaze. "And the first time I find you using that brain of yours to make trouble, off you go."

Nicholas thrust his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Reckon I'll leave my brains at home," he said dryly.

Mr. Thornton hesitated before continuing, "Was Miss Hale the woman who asked you to come to me?"

Nicholas did not respond, but regarded the master with a cool smile that nettled him. "You might have said," Mr. Thornton said peevishly.

"And you'd have been a bit more civil?" Nicholas asked incredulously, and turned to re-enter his house, leaving the door open for Mr. Thornton to follow him inside. "Will you come in, Master?" he asked graciously, striving to retain his calm demeanor, although he rejoiced at having scored a point, given the dark expression on Thornton's face.

Mr. Thornton wanted to refuse-he was greatly aggrieved that Higgins could read his emotions well enough to know that Miss Hale had a strong influence over him. However, he reluctantly agreed-the presence of Miss Hale was too great a gravitational pull for him to say no. He entered the small abode and placed his hat on a table near the door, noticing that Higgins had joined his daughter to help settle the children for the night.

The object of his desire sat in a small rocking chair on the opposite side of the room, with the Boucher baby tucked over her shoulder. Her hair was in soft disarray about her face, and her gown was covered by a large apron. She appeared pale and tired, but her face was soft with affection for the child she held. She hummed a song as she rocked, and the baby yawned and nestled against her.

He thought she had never looked lovelier, and felt a sharp pang. How would she look cradling his child at her breast, he wondered, and felt a yearning stronger than he had ever felt in his life. He wanted her, in his life, in his home, in his bed. Dear Lord, he thought, I would give up all else if I might have the right to love her and make her mine.

Feeling his eyes upon her, she looked up and met his smoldering gaze. Placing a finger to her lips, she rose and carried the baby to a small bed in the corner of the room. She settled the baby carefully on his back and arranged the covers to keep him warm.

She rose, and moved through the door outside, so they might speak privately. As he joined her, she said in a shy voice, "Thank you for the flowers-they were lovely."

He inclined his head, obviously pleased that she had appreciated his gift. Steeling herself, she continued. "The roses were lovely-Dixon was telling me that yellow roses indicated true love. Did the florist select the flowers for you?" she asked nonchalantly.

He looked at her steadily, and what she saw in his face made her drop her eyes in confusion. "No, Miss Hale, I deliberately selected the flowers I sent. They were my choice, and you may read into them what you wish."

Confused and flustered, she searched for a safer topic of conversation. "Have you offered Nicholas a job?"

"I have," he responded promptly.

"Thank you," she told him, her eyes shining with gratitude. "No one deserves it more than he does, and you will find no better worker."

He stared down at her. She was so beautiful, and appeared so genuine that it was hard to reconcile this guileless girl with the woman at the train station. He searched about for some topic of conversation.

"Fanny tells me that she met you at the drapers the other day," he remarked.

Meg nodded. "Yes, she seemed quite happy with her engagement. Will the wedding be soon?"

He smiled wryly. "Not soon enough for Fanny." Some impulse made him add, "My mother would like a double wedding. She feels that Miss Latimer would make an admirable wife."

It may have been a trick of light, but he could have sworn that Miss Hale grew pale.

"Should I wish you happy, Mr. Thornton?" she asked in a constrained voice.

"My mother would have me marry Miss Latimer," he admitted ruefully. "But, like you, I cannot marry where I do not love."

A silence stretched between them, filled with treacherous impulses and unspoken but keenly felt desire.

"Will you not tell me the truth, Miss Hale?" he asked in a soft, cajoling voice. "Who was the young man you were with at the train station that night?"

She shook her head, unable to meet his gaze. When she raised her face to his at last, he saw tears glittering in her eyes. His disappointment was overcome by pity for her; something was amiss, and she felt she could not tell him. As a tear ran down her cheek, he reached out without thinking and wiped the teardrop away with his fingertips. She gasped at his touch, and he withdrew his hand immediately.

"Do not cry, Miss Hale," he said quietly. "I will not importune you again with unwanted questions."

She said in a low, urgent tone, "I want to tell you, truly I do, but I cannot. As I have explained, it is not my secret. But please believe me when I say that what you saw is not what you think. I am not wanton, and I have no lover."

Something flashed in his eyes and he moved a step toward her before checking himself. "I want to believe you, Miss Hale. God knows, I do."

Without thinking, she grasped both his hands in hers and said in a low, fervent voice, "Then, believe me. I swear to you I tell the truth about that much."

He slid his hands from her grasp and raised one hand to gently cradle her face. "I do believe you," he answered in a soft voice of wonder, gazing at her with a look of mingled surprise and ardor. She gasped at the cool touch of his hand against her hot, hot face, and turned her face into his palm, torn between wishing to step away quickly and remaining where she was forever. She closed her eyes and allowed him to clasp her face between both hands and brush his thumbs over her cheeks in a slow caress. He leaned toward her, and his lips hovered above hers for a brief instant before they heard Higgins call out cheerfully that tea was ready if they would care to have a cup. Meg stepped away and took a shuddering breath.

"I must go home," she said in panic. "Father will be looking for me this past half hour," she explained in a constrained voice as she rushed back into the house to gather up her shawl and basket. "Nicholas, Mary, I must go now, but I shall come tomorrow to see how the baby fares. His colic has eased, so he should sleep comfortably through the night." She hurried over and gave each a quick hug, and moved toward the door as they called their good-nights to her. Mr. Thornton blocked the doorway.