vix_spes

Margaret had never expected that she was going to be welcomed with open arms by Hannah Thornton but, even so, she hadn’t expected it to be such hard work. She had known, when she made the trip up to Milton only to find the factory closed, that the lady’s opinion of her had not changed and that she did not think Margaret good enough for her only son but, even so, Margaret had hoped for at least a slight softening when she saw how happy John was. Alas, that was not the case. Instead, Margaret had endured pointed comments as to how she did things or else stony silence.

To an extent, Margaret could understand it. For so long, Hannah Thornton had been the most important woman in John’s life and in the running of Marlborough Mills and it had to be hard for her to accept that that role had now been taken by Margaret. Knowing that, Margaret had done her utmost to try and smooth over the transition, but all of her attempts had proved unsuccessful thus far. If she was honest, Margaret was a little hurt. She had known that Mrs Thornton didn’t approve of her and she had implemented a number of schemes at the mill that some perceived to be rather radical but, at the heart of it, Margaret was a new bride not long orphaned and she had hoped for some kindness.

Margaret’s need for some kindly recognition from her mother-in-law became even greater when Margaret discovered that she was pregnant. Dixon was gone, Bessy was dead, and Margaret’s aunt was back touring the continent. Edith was still ignoring Margaret after she refused to marry Henry, Fanny Thornton was unhappy that Margaret was pregnant before her and Margaret wasn’t exactly popular with the ladies of Thornton for having ‘stolen’ John from underneath their noses. It meant that, as her pregnancy progressed, Margaret was more isolated than ever. John did his best but, even so, there was only so much that he could do. There were the women of the factory, of course, who had grown far more used to if not comfortable, with Margaret and John being in their midst but it still wasn’t the same.

So, it was with no little shock that Margaret found Hannah clear her throat awkwardly from where she hovered in the doorway of the little room Margaret had claimed as her own space.

“Margaret?”

“Mrs … Mother!”

“May I?” Hannah gestured, asking for entrance. “I have something for you.”

“Yes, please. Of course you can come in.” Margaret eyed the item that Hannah held carefully with no little curiosity. “What can I do for you?”

“I made this blanket when I was pregnant with John. It’s made of cotton from Marlborough Mills edged with the finest Darkshire lace. We swaddled him in it as soon as he was born and used it until almost two, then did the same with Fanny.” There was a pause as Hannah seemed to collect herself. “I realise that I may not have been the most welcoming, but you’ve made John very happy and … well, you’ve been good for Marlborough Mills and I wanted to offer you this, if you wanted it, for the baby.”

Margaret was not unaware of the significance of this moment. Indeed, she was highly cognisant that Hannah was offering an olive branch in her own inimitable way and thus did the only thing she could. Smiling gently, she reached out and took the baby blanket, marvelling at the craftsmanship that had gone into it.

“Thank you, it means a lot to both of us.”