Margaret of the North (25 page)

They noted early on that she had
already made a difference in their master.  He had been like his mother,
serious and stern, his brow often deeply-furrowed with a scowl.  The mill had
occupied him and he had lived for it.  When Mrs. Margaret arrived, the scowl
nearly disappeared, he smiled more, looked younger and much more relaxed, and
was much less absentminded.  Now, with work on reopening the mill going at full
speed, he still found time to come home as often as he could to have lunch with
his wife.  He took her out for walks and left for work later than he used to. 
He had always been fair and never spoke harshly to any of them but they could
not help liking better the person he had become.  The baby that was expected,
probably in the spring, also stirred much talk particularly among the maids who
looked forward to an even livelier house.  Life in the Thornton household was,
without a doubt, changing for the better.

When Mrs. Thornton resumed her
responsibilities as mistress of the house, the servants were more than a little
disappointed despite Dixon's reassurance that it was only going to be for a few
weeks—until Mrs. Margaret got over her dizzy spells.  Barely a week after Mrs.
Thornton returned to her usual routine, the chatter of the servants began to
diminish, at least, in her presence.  Mrs. Thornton regained much of the
comfort she used to have in her daily chores.  She did find dealing with Dixon
a little more difficult.  Used to making decisions on her own and loyal to
Margaret, Dixon balked and grumbled when taking directions from the older Mrs.
Thornton.  She invariably did what she was told, however.  Margaret, as
familiar with Dixon's disposition as the maid was with hers, had forewarned her
and instructed her to comply with everything Mrs. Thornton asked of her.

Mrs. Thornton did not resent
Dixon for resisting her.  She was, after all, only a servant and, to her
credit, a loyal one who served one family nearly all her life.  The blame lay
on the late Mrs. Hale whose responsibility it had been to train her servants to
obey and be always aware of their place.  It was too late by now to train Dixon
and besides, it would no longer matter to her in a couple of months when
Margaret resumed her duties running the house.

After a couple of weeks at home,
Mrs. Thornton missed even more the time she used to spend at the mill when it
had been in operation.  Her daily household chores were usually finished by
noontime and, with Dixon managing the kitchen, she was much less involved in
meal planning and the purchase of food items.  Consequently, Mrs. Thornton
found herself with more time to spare than she was used to.  She did not care
for books or music, did not have many friends to write to or have tea with, and
she did not need the exercise and diversion of long walks, as Margaret did. 
While she liked needlework, she did not waste her skills on fancy motifs
embroidered on feminine items that most other women occupied themselves with
for many hours.

Mrs. Thornton was at a loss about
what to do with so much time in her hands.  She was impatient for John to
reopen the mill so she could resume the responsibility she had taken upon
herself ever since Marlborough Mills first opened.  She was proud of that
role.  It helped her son run a more efficient mill and, consequently, a more
productive one.  She thought it was a truly worthy use of her time and a task
in which she could continue to play a significant part in her son's life.

John spent his days at the mill,
sometimes coming back to the house to have a late luncheon with Margaret and
his mother and usually finishing his work by early evening.  Reopening the mill
consumed his time and energy and for a few weeks, he had not been able to
accompany his wife on her daily walk.  He often knew when she and Mary went. 
Whenever he was in his office, he could see them through the window as they
came out of the house. 

One afternoon, after an intense
schedule of meetings and inspections, he sat in front of his desk, exhausted,
staring out his window at the gray day, and wishing he was at a colorful
pulsating café in Paris with Margaret.  How much he had changed!  He laughed
wryly at himself and then he heard Margaret's voice.  Looking out his window,
he saw her and Mary nearly out the gate.  He bounded up and hurried out of his
office to catch up with them before they were out of sight.

"Mary, I will take my wife out
on her walk," he cried out after them

The two women stopped, turned,
and waited.  He grasped Margaret's hand and hooked it around his arm.  She
smiled delightedly and said, "It has been awhile!  I missed having you on
these walks."

"I take great pleasure in
them particularly when I am with you but so much needs to be done at the mill
and it has kept me rather busy."

"I know and I am glad you
could come today," she replied and then nodded at Mary who waited for a
sign from her to return to the house.  John and Margaret walked towards the
gate, gazing at each other happily, unaware of the dark figure watching them
with compressed lips from her perch by the window.  They headed for the park on
the edge of town.

They passed through the city
streets in relative silence and had almost reached the park when Margaret said,
"I am curious about what you have to do to reopen the mill.  Would you
tell me?"

"I am glad you are curious. 
I expected you to be.  The process itself is not that complicated and in some
ways, it is quite straightforward—bank transactions, facility and machinery
inspections, repair or retooling, if necessary, hiring of workers, contacting
clients.  The complicated part is dealing with people every step of the way,
particularly when hiring workers and talking with the bank and potential
clients."

"What about customers?  How
will you get them back?"

"Persuading former clients
to place orders again after they had already switched to another manufacturer
can be rather tough.  I am timing the reopening for when the demand is usually
more than what is readily available so I am certain to get some orders.  Also,
quite a number of clients eventually come back if they see your product is
superior, your prices are reasonable, your factory is reliable and they like
the way you do business."

She scowled a little in dismay. 
"That sounds somewhat daunting!"

"Yes, but those are matters
you can do something about as a manufacturer."

She nodded, "I see.  Are you
far along in what you need to do?"

"We're hiring workers right
now.  In addition, I have been working on putting in place some ideas I have. 
I thought that since we are almost starting over, it is a good time to begin
those, too."

Margaret's curiosity was piqued. 
"Are these ideas that you hoped would reduce strikes?"

"They may.  I hope they do
but nothing is ever certain and we will have to wait and see.  Regardless, it
makes sense to me to initiate these practices."

"Were these the practices
you had been hesitant to talk about earlier?"

"I can tell you about one or
two I am working on now.  You will know soon enough, anyway, since you must
have noticed some reconstruction is going on at the mill.  I want to get
workers, supervisors, and masters talking to each other."

A smile crept up to Margaret's
eyes but barely broke on her lips.  Their first encounters clearly brought out
their opposing views on masters and hands.  She had thought him then too harsh
in his opinion that workers were inferior and in his belief that masters and
workers were always at cross-purposes.  In contrast, she had believed that
people universally responded to goodwill—whatever the situation—and that
talking to each other could go a long way towards that goodwill. 

She tried to tell him once that
she thought dialogue was possible and, in fact, necessary when people work
together for a common purpose.  But he had cut her off imperiously, assuming
her ignorant of his business, about which he, of course, had thorough
knowledge.  Later, however, he did, take steps to get better acquainted with
his workers, going as far as to befriend them and actually take an interest in
their lives, as he had done with Nicholas Higgins.  That was quite some time
ago.

Margaret, herself, had gone
through some change in her own thinking, partly as a result of something she
witnessed on her last visit to Helstone.  She had listened to some villagers
argue and it appalled her that they clung so tenaciously to their prejudices
and ignorance that they failed to resolve their differences.  So, although
Margaret still believed in goodwill, she also realized that bringing people
together, especially those on opposite sides, was sometimes nearly impossible
and might even be futile.  It did gratify her that John's perception of the
relationship between masters and hands was closer to her own, but her pleasure
was subdued by the uncertainties and the complexity of the task he had taken
on.

She smiled and very simply said,
"I am glad."

"I can believe it.  You
showed me what was possible when you coaxed Higgins to talk to me.  It is true
I did not believe him at first, but I felt compelled to inquire about him when
he said a woman persuaded him to come to me.  We later developed something like
a friendship that we have both been learning from."

"Well, I am vain enough to
flatter myself that I helped by challenging what you believed in but, in fact,
you have a natural compassion in you that I think I merely helped awaken."

"You are too generous.  I
was hard on my workers and did not care about their lives outside of the mill. 
My main concern had been to run the business profitably and efficiently." 
He grasped her hand and squeezed it endearingly.  "The truth is I fell
deeply, irrevocably in love with you and wanted to make you think well of
me."

Margaret paused briefly in her
step and reached up to kiss him.  "You succeeded rather well."  They
resumed their walk and a little later, she added, "No matter how it
happened, I believe what you are doing now comes from your inherent kindhearted
nature and I sincerely wish you well."

John lifted her hand and pressed
it to his lips.  "I encourage you to think that way but, in fact, if what
I do prevents or postpones strikes, there is good business sense in that."

They walked for some distance,
occasionally talking about the early signs of fall that had begun to touch
everything that was alive on the park.  Margaret, with eyes alert to color and
changes in nature, saw it first in the brown curling petals on rare, usually
bright-hued meadow flowers that could still thrive in the smoky gloom.  It was
late summer, still warm but humid, and trees had started shedding their leaves,
now turning golden or a deep red orange, many already strewn on the path they
had chosen to take.  Palpable moisture hung in the air, cooling their skin with
every gust of the late afternoon breeze that was steadily gathering strength. 
The days had grown shorter and after some time of ambling along the top of the
hill, they were surprised to see that evening was descending on them.  Margaret
gathered her shawl closer around her and they turned back for home.

As they walked down the hill, she
said, "I hope I did not take you away from some pressing work you had to
do at the mill."

"No.  I needed a break from
this morning's hectic schedule."

"How soon do you anticipate
reopening?"

"In just a few weeks,
actually, if everything proceeds as planned."

She nodded and after a short
thoughtful pause, asked, "You said you want masters, hands, and overseers
talking to each other.  What does the reconstruction have to do with
that?"

"Some of the men have
actually started working, not at the mill but in that building behind the
mill.  A couple of months before you left for London, we had turned it into a
dining hall where workers could get a cheap hot meal.  Mary worked there for
some time as one of the cooks.  We're expanding the place and when the men are
done, some of the women will come to make the place more convivial.  I want to
make it inviting for everyone—workers, supervisors, and masters.  In those
Parisian cafés, I saw how a place for eating and drinking could bring people
together and encourage lively conversations even when they disagreed.  Perhaps,
the dining hall could do something similar and become a meeting place.  It will
serve lunch and an early dinner but it will also be open and have big pot of
tea on the hearth all day to which the workers can help themselves."

"What a wonderful idea!  And
you say our trip to Paris gave you this idea?"

"Largely that, yes; but our
whole vacation made me think.  I think the informality at your brother's house
in Cadiz, helped the two of us, Frederick and me, quickly become
companionable.  I hope we can have some of that informal atmosphere in the
dining hall."

"But the whole atmosphere in
Cadiz is so open, airy, and encourages such informality, not at all somber like
here and, of course, the Spanish temperament is so different."

"You are not trying to
dissuade me now, are you?"  He teased before replying in a more serious
vein.  "I did think about all that and realized it could be a great deal
harder for the men here to open up to each other but I must try, anyway.  The
dining hall will easily sustain itself and if it does not become the social
place I was hoping for, it is there to nourish bodies at least."

"I suppose the hall can be
made as inviting as possible to encourage the men to go there outside of
mealtimes."  She was thoughtful, for some moments.  "Can I help the
women spruce the place up?"

"Are you up to it?  Maybe,
we should ask Dr. Donaldson before you do anything of the sort."

"He did tell me I was free
to do anything I want so long as it does not cause any physical
discomfort."