Margaret of the North (54 page)

Margaret, matching his tone,
replied jauntily in French with an elaborate shrug, "
aucune
chance
!" 
She added with a twinkle in her eyes, "My mind and my heart were too full
of this tall dark charmer from a dirty bustling city in the north.  How could a
bland Londoner, clever and sophisticated he may be, compete with that?"

They sat smiling at each other
across his desk.  At length, he returned to the matter of schooling.  "Now
that I have become better acquainted with my workers and have my own daughter,
I understand better why you are trying to bring schooling to these children. 
We take it for granted Elise will receive instruction, the parents of these children
take it for granted they will not; yet many know that some education is
essential to rise out of just doing factory work."

"Well, it may be like
breaking an ingrained habit.  If you grew up in a family in which no one went
to school, you might never think of it as a choice you could make.  But I am a
hopeful person and I believe there are, perhaps, a few parents among your
workers who may be convinced to send their children to school if they see what
Thomas can do."

"But how do we come across
another Thomas?  Should I look out for another child sitting and reading just
outside my office?"  He teased again.

Margaret smiled indulgently but
opted to reply seriously.  "I actually taught all the Boucher children to
read but only Thomas showed an eagerness to learn and was the only one who
really persevered.  If we had classes, we might discover another child like
him."

"Why, yes, of course.  So,
why can we not get those classes started?"

"For many reasons—where to
hold them, for one.  The bigger problem is how to get children to come.  Those
two things are, of course, related.  I talked to the rector of the church
closest to the mill, hoping to get his advice on how to convince parents but
also prepared to just offer the parochial school financial help to pay more
teachers to take more children.  But his school is having trouble with
attendance.  As I suspected, parents see no need for school and he is helpless
about it.  For the few that see some value in it, their small children find the
school too far to walk."

"If the classes were held in
my old office, then parents can just drop off their children before going into
the mill.  Is the office too small?"

"It can only hold 10 to 12
children.  I cannot estimate the number who would actually come but I suspect,
not many.  We also need to hire teachers.  I can do some teaching, at least in
the beginning, but I do not have time to teach everyday and, I must confess,
neither do I want to.  I am not the most patient person with a roomful of
children."

John and Margaret did not arrive
at solutions that day.  Mary came down with Elise from Mrs. Thornton's
apartment to tell them that the cab was there to take them all home.

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

Eventually, Margaret decided to
start some basic reading and writing classes when Catherine offered to help her
teach.  On her first visit to the clinic, she mentioned to Catherine her wish
to start a school for the children of the mill and Catherine apparently gave
the idea much thought.  She sought John out at the mill to tell him she might
be able to help.  The offshoot was her first invitation to tea at the Thornton
house, set on a Sunday afternoon.

Catherine arrived promptly, eager
but also intimidated into shyness by the unexpected invitation from her
employers.  But she found her apprehensions allayed by the informality with
which they received her.  Tea was served in the garden-like atmosphere of the
conservatory and the Thorntons' daughter was there, sitting on a rug on the
floor among her toys, nibbling on a biscuit.  Mary Higgins was taking care of
her and Margaret had poured her a cup of tea as well.  The conversation
meandered into many topics and both Thorntons made some effort to ask her
opinion on every one of them.  When tea was over, Margaret led Catherine into
the privacy of the drawing room, leaving John and Elise in the conservatory.

Margaret began, "John told
me of your interest in my plans for the children's school."

"Well, yes.  I informed you
when you interviewed me for the clinic position that I was trained as a governess. 
I was thinking that I could help with teaching."

"What about the
clinic?"

"Afternoons at the clinic
are not as busy for me as mornings except when Dr. Hartley is in.  Sometimes,
no one comes at all.  I thought that, perhaps, my time would be better used at
the school on the Wednesdays and Fridays that the doctor is not in.  If there
is an emergency, I will be around."  Catherine paused and looked down,
disconcerted by Margaret's intent gaze while she spoke.  "I am merely
making a suggestion, of course, if you would not mind closing the clinic for
nursing care on those afternoons."

Margaret smiled engagingly. 
"Your suggestion makes a lot of sense to me if, as you say, the clinic is
not busy some afternoons.  How long has it been that way?"

"Actually, since we opened. 
When they have a complaint, the workers come in the morning.  Mondays are
usually busy all day probably because of ailments that start on the
weekend."

Margaret nodded, "Let me
think about it.  Frankly, your suggestion came as a surprise.  Your offer to
teach has made it more likely for the classes to happen but it is also making
me ask myself how committed I really am.  If I go ahead, the classes will take
me away from home those afternoons I take over teaching."

Catherine's offer of her services
did clinch Margaret's decision to go ahead.  After a few more afternoon teas,
she and Catherine agreed on what to offer, where, and when.  Classes would be
open to both children and adults, and were to take place Monday through
Thursday afternoons in the master's old office.  Margaret would teach two days
and Catherine, the other two.  The space was small but Margaret had not
expected too many children to come and she thought she could solve the problem
of space later if the classes attracted more children than the room could
hold.  Margaret subsequently went to a workers' meeting to talk about the
availability of reading and writing lessons that were free to all.  Except for
her impulsive outburst during the strikers' riot, she had never addressed a big
group of workers and she was apprehensive at the prospect of doing so.  She had
expected John to make the announcement as he had done for the clinic but he
insisted that this was something she must do.

The realization of Margaret's
wish of a school for workers children was off to a modest start.  She thought
scaling down her ambitions proved to be the right decision when, on the first
week, only six children and no adult came.  The following weeks did not bring
in too many more children and for a long time, the classes often only had ten
or fewer pupils.

Sharing the task of teaching
threw Margaret and Catherine into company often and a true friendship blossomed
between the two women.  Margaret knew early on that she and Catherine shared
more interests and had more similar dispositions than the other two young women
her age who had been her friends and companion.  Certainly more than she did
with Bessy.  Though bright and, like her, doted on by a loving father, Bessy
had neither the education nor exposure to ideas that Margaret acquired from her
father.  Needless to say, Bessy did not have the refinements or the skills that
Margaret and Edith were compelled to learn.  Edith, of course, was like a
sister to Margaret and she would always be dearer to her than any other young
woman could ever be but Margaret thought that she and Catherine could never
become what Edith was.

Fortunate to have had a father
rich enough to indulge her with all the silks, laces, flowers, dinner parties
and other fashionable pursuits she desired, Edith had grown into a great many
young men's ideal of a woman—lovely, feminine, with all the grace, manner, and
preoccupations expected of a lady.  Margaret would always be grateful to Edith
and her aunt for their solicitous care and attention at a time when she needed
those most.  But, once recovered from her sorrows and deep malaise, Margaret
thought the life she shared in London with Edith and her husband too languid
and too dull.  When relatively free of care, she preferred to devote her time
to the sort of exertions she had taken on as a parson's daughter and that now
absorbed her time in Milton.  Catherine understood such preoccupations.  She,
herself, was engaged in them, not only from a necessity to earn a living but
also from a belief—borne out of her Catholic upbringing—that she should work
for something that could be of use to others.

Much acquainted with Margaret's
superior attributes—rich, uncommonly lovely, with a lively mind, a perceptiveness
that, she had to admit, was keener than hers, and happily married to a man who
clearly adored her—Catherine could not help feeling some envy.  But, she was
grateful, as well.  Margaret had not only given her a job but treated her as a
friend, an equal whose skills Margaret respected.  She deferred to Catherine's
judgment on many matters concerning the reading and writing classes because
Margaret believed her to have had proper training and more experience. 
Margaret invited her to dinners she gave for small parties of friends; thus,
opening up her world and exposing her to a society that would otherwise have
been indifferent to her.  She lent her books that they later talked about and
told her stories of places she and Mr. Thornton had visited and of people they
had met.

Even Dr. Hartley, who talked to
her only about matters pertaining to work, began to show more curiosity about
her, inquiring minutely about her interests and her family.  It seemed he
enjoyed their conversations as much as she did and, indeed, he expressed
admiration for the breadth of topics she could talk intelligently about. 
Catherine wondered, then, whether she could nurture his curiosity into a
genuine interest in her.

She had been infatuated with him
from the time he was pointed out to her as the young doctor from America.  But
she never imagined, much less hoped, that he would pay her any attention,
especially when young women of beauty and means were vying for his favors. 
Resigned to admiring him from a distance, she seized the chance, when it came,
to work with him.  She told herself that she could pretend he was hers for
those few hours they worked together.

When Dr. Hartley paid her more
attention, Catherine was elated.  Then, he began to ask in detail about
Catherine's friendship with the young Mrs. Thornton, what they talked about,
the books they read together, what kind of a friend she was, and how frequently
they met.  At first, Catherine thought his questions sprang from natural
curiosity.  Margaret, after all, attracted much talk because of who she was and
what she did.  Later, however, his inquiries became much more about Margaret
than about herself and her opinions.  Catherine knew then that Dr. Hartley's
interest in Mr. Thornton's wife transcended mere curiosity.

She resolved to observe him
closely when all three of them were together and she contrived an excuse to
have Margaret come to the clinic on a day when Dr. Hartley was doing
consultations.  Her suspicions were confirmed.  The doctor could not seem to
take his eyes off Margaret and he hung on every word she uttered.  But it was
also plain to Catherine that Margaret, easy but business-like in her manner
towards the doctor, was quite indifferent to his attention.  Even so, Catherine
was depressed to learn that the doctor was captivated by someone she could not
hope to compete with, someone who was her friend.   Used to disappointments,
Catherine had learned to be philosophical.  She talked herself into believing
that she never expected Dr. Hartley to reciprocate her feelings and that she
was privileged to have seen into his heart whereas all those other women vying
for his attention pined in vain for him and did not know his heart was taken.

All her equivocations did not
satisfy Catherine, however, and one Saturday afternoon while she and Margaret
were in Mr. Thornton's study talking about reading lessons, she asked,
"May I tell you something that may sound impertinent to you?"

Margaret smiled, amused at such a
request.  "Perhaps, you had better not.  In such a case, I might prefer to
be ignorant."

Catherine took Margaret's blithe
reply seriously and her eyelids drooped in disappointment, "Of course, I
am sorry."

"Come, come, it must be
important or you would not risk asking me, if it were indeed impertinent.  We
are friends, after all, in addition to being colleagues so we can be frank
without fearing to be misunderstood.  Do tell."

Catherine looked at her for a
long moment, hesitant, wondering if she could lose a valued friend.  In the
end, she trusted in Margaret's good sense and reasoned that if the latter did
not care for Dr. Hartley, she would not take offense.  Catherine boldly
proceeded, "Were you aware that Dr. Hartley has deep feelings for
you?"

Margaret was caught off guard by
the question but she recovered quickly and stared at Catherine, studying the
expression on her face.  "Yes, I am and, if I had failed to notice, at
least two people made sure I knew it."

"Mr. Thornton?"

"Yes, and I doubt that
anybody else noticed except those with some interest in the matter." 
Margaret answered irritably.  In fact, she had been at least a little offended
by the question although she was not certain exactly why.  Perhaps, she did
feel that Catherine was too intrusive and that the matter was too private for
someone she had only known a few months to pry into.

Catherine blushed deeply and
lowered her eyes.  They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, Catherine with
her eyes cast down and Margaret, trying to concentrate on a book in order to
give Catherine time to compose herself.