Just a heads up, I've italicized backstory for the first few chapters from the points of view of Margaret Hale, John Thornton, and Mrs. Thornton. I would also like to take a moment to thank the readers and reviews of my last two stories, A Friend in Sorrow and Gentle Violence, Delicious Silence (especially the lovely RachelMargaret who is simply inspiring!). I love reviews and critique, so if you have a free second, please tell me what you think. As always, I do not own the characters or world created by Elizabeth Gaskell.

This day and age we're living in
Gives cause for apprehension
With speed and new invention
And things like fourth dimension.

Yet we get a trifle weary
With Mr. Einstein's theory.
So we must get down to earth at times
Relax relieve the tension

Herman Hupfeld

Margaret had always enjoyed sitting by the window on trains watching the landscape change from rolling fields to forests, observing the different styles of buildings in village or town. Sometimes she could look away for only a moment and in the blink of an eye the view outside would be so drastically different from the moment before that it took her breath away. Life was like that. A moment could change everything. Until two years ago, the only time her life was ever disrupted was when she went to live with her aunt in London at the age of nine. The next eight years of life were so stable and predictable, with so few cares, that she continued to view the world with a child's eyes long after many her age had already become acquainted with harsh realities and tragic losses. After Edith married and she had returned home to her parents, so much had changed and she had been forced to change with it. So much suffering, so much loss; such profound grief but through it all, she learned to value the beauty of each moment for when she looked again, it might be gone.

The past two and a half years had been so full of goodbyes that, for a time, Margaret could not be induced to leave the house on Harley Street in London where she returned to live with her aunt after the death of her father. Her days were spent quietly reminiscing the happy times with her parents, Bessy Higgins and Mr. Bell. She had loved them all dearly and their deaths had overwhelmed her with seeming unending grief; but the final blow had been leaving Milton. Her life had been so full there, learning a new culture, finding pleasure in intellectual discourse, and while the cares were great, there was also an unexpected satisfaction in working hard and being useful. She wasn't aware of how dear the place had become until she was no longer there for, in contrast, her life at Harley Street was idle and useless. She felt empty – drained- and there was only one person left in the world whom the thought of was like a warm spring rain after a long winter of the soul. As much as her aunt and cousin fussed over and petted her, it was John Thornton whom her broken heart cried out for during this time, especially at night when no one could witness to her tearful prayers that God would help her find a way to seek his forgiveness.

No one had known of this grief except Mr. Bell, and he took the secret to the grave. Having someone know her heart was a comfort and finding that small relief aided her perspective. She began to find strength in the knowledge that Frederick was safely in Spain, married, starting a family of his own. Nicholas would occasionally send her a letter which would lift her spirits for days, especially if they contained news of his master and the news that Mr. Thornton had started a scheme to provide nourishing meals to his hands had delighted her even as the knowledge of how grossly she had misjudged the man tormented her. Edith had two beautiful children that were a glorious distraction even when they were willful and cross. Finally, Mr. Bell had provided abundantly for her and while she would rather have the man on earth than the wealth he left behind, he had also left behind a way for her to make a life for herself, and unexpectedly, a way for her to resolve things with Mr. Thornton. That resolution turned into the most wonderful moment of her life followed by many more.

She was finally going home.

It had been difficult to leave Helstone, nearly impossible to leave Milton for all she had wished to be far away from it at the time of her father's passing. She had learned to love that smokey, busy, rough town and its Darkshire people with their Darkshire independence, her Darkshire husband sitting across from her with his head leaned back, eyes closed. His long dark eyelashes resting on his cheek and a relaxed, peaceful expression on his usually stern mouth that was so quick to express enjoyment in even the smallest pleasures life presented to him. Her eyes rested on him fondly; the sight of his repose, long legs stretched across the isle between them, relaxed her.

He seemed aware that she watched him for he suddenly spoke. "What are you thinking of so seriously over there?"

Gazing outside once more, she replied, "As much as I enjoy my time with Edith, Aunt Shaw, and the children, I've never left London with a single backward glance. For all that I lived there for nine years, I was always leaving it to go home." His eyes fluttered open and he lifted his head, penetrating eyes staring sharply at her face, waiting for her to finish, a tight feeling of dread in his chest. She leaned her head against the glass and closed her eyes as a wistful smile turned the corner of her mouth. "This time is no different and I feel such a profound relief to be returning to Milton, unlike anything I ever felt on returning to Helstone."

"Do you mean that, Margaret?" He asked intently. "Do you truly feel that Milton is your home?"

"I spent a happy childhood in Helstone, an idle youth in London. Neither of those places belong to me now for I am neither a child nor a youth. I grew into a woman there; found strength and courage – learned how to live. Learned how to love. I've missed it more than words can express. For all that I have lost there, it has given me every hope. Every dream for my future. In its smokey air is the Darkshire spirit. I have breathed it in and now it's in my blood."

She raised her head from the cool glass to find his eyes searching her face before he suddenly moved to sit beside her. Taking her small hands in his, he pressed his lips to her fingers. "I had feared..."

"That I would be unhappy there?" she said when it became obvious he could not go on.

"Yes," he gasped, leaning his forehead against hers. "You experienced so much sorrow that I believed it was all you took away of your time there."

"It may have been," she agreed sadly, "at the time; but no matter what I took from there, I left my heart behind. I have been incomplete - until you arrived one evening at a dinner party and brought my heart with you. It's wiser than I am and I will follow where it wishes. It cannot be wrong for it led me to you."

She tilted her head up until the tips of their noses met and gently nuzzled him. The comfortable silence of moments before once again stole over them, exhausted as they were by the day's events and lulled into complacency by the rhythmic beat of the train moving inexorably along its marked path. Memories dominated her thoughts as her husband shifted to tuck her against his side with his arm around her, resting her head against his shoulder, nestling his face into her soft hair.

It was only five weeks ago that she sat on the edge of her bed in the house at Harley Street staring out the window, hiding from her cousin Edith's graceful hysterics and her Aunt Shaw's stern disapproval. Edith was convinced that Margaret was abandoning her and considered an engagement to John Thornton highly disagreeable when Henry Lennox was a far better choice and would keep Margaret close at hand to help with the children. Mrs. Shaw said relatively little on the subject, but her expression spoke volumes and she would make the occasional disparaging comment against anyone "who would willingly live in that horrid town of Milton".

Mr. Thornton had come that morning to discuss the lease of Marlborough Mills and unknowingly to hear Margaret's business proposal. The discussion of the business proposal had led to a strange resolution of the conflict between them, but as she sat considering it, nothing was truly resolved. She was filled with hope for he still regarded her. He was aware of her affections. There was a strong indication of the desire to marry on both sides, but nothing was formally spoken. To be sure, she still did not know if he would accept her offer and reopen the factory.

Still in the early stages of negotiating business and love, they had been called to luncheon by a nervous young servant who appeared to know exactly what she was interrupting judging by her scarlet complexion as she curtsied into the back drawing room. Nothing would have been mentioned to anyone in the household under these circumstances if Edith had not of accosted her upon leaving the room, her normally pale face flushed with excitement, demanding to know if she was going to marry Mr. Thornton. The gentleman in question was standing, tall and proud, directly behind her. Margaret had cast a nervous glance at him over her shoulder, turned pale, and then fled past her cousin to the dining room.

Edith's distress quickly drove an uncomfortable Mr. Thornton from the house with an apology about additional business and a desire to find Mr. Lennox. Mrs. Shaw's disagreeable countenance drove Margaret to her room with the plea of a headache but her aunt and Edith had hardly waited for her exit before setting to gossip earnestly over the affair. She paused outside the sitting room door to listen. Both agreed that it was a terrible match but surprisingly found no real reason against it except their own selfishness. They both knew that Margaret had no special regard for Edith's brother-in-law, but since she did not seem inclined to marry for love, he would be a much better choice than a poor manufacturer!

"And Milton!" Mrs. Shaw had cried, "such a disagreeable, unhealthy place. It will kill Margaret as surely as it did her mother. Edith, you should have ignored Henry's request and interrupted them before this nonsense could ever have taken place! Imagine, leaving them alone together when he promised to be present."

But Edith had a strange look upon her lovely features and replied in a distracted tone of puzzlement, "But what if Margaret loves him, Mama?"

Mrs. Shaw paused in her grievance to consider this. "That's a dreadfully strange notion!"

"It isn't so very strange. She was depressed for such a long time after Uncle Richard died and poor Mr. Bell," Edith said quietly, wringing her small hands in her lap. "She revived much after our stay in Cromer but she hasn't been the same Margaret that left us two years ago. I know that she loved her parents dearly and that she mourns greatly for them, but might she not also long for Milton, or at least one in Milton who possesses her heart? "

"Long for Milton? That's extraordinarily sentimental, my dear child," Mrs. Shaw waved dismissively, but the seed of a grand romance had been planted into her imagination and quickly taken root. It changed her entire view on the heretofore disagreeable situation and she spent the rest of the afternoon in a wistful mood.

Margaret shifted in her seat, resting her back against her husband's side so she could watch the landscape streak by once more.

Mrs. Thornton had surprised everyone by arriving a week ago in London, contrary to her assurances the last time Margaret saw her that a visit to Harley Street was very unlikely. She brought with her the most beautiful wedding dress Margaret had ever seen, a combination of silk and that old English point lace her mother had so often admired in the stately woman's dress of her first visit. The dress and not just the lace was obviously an heir-loom, had in fact been her grandmother's, and Mrs. Thornton had made many concessions to preserve it in the hopes that Fanny might wear it for her wedding. The silly girl had thought it too antique and wanted the latest London fashion but the proud mother was hopeful that Margaret had taste and would find it suitable for she desired to see the garment worn in at least one of her children's weddings.

The gesture had touched Margaret deeply even while she could not understand it, but it was apparent that Mrs. Thornton was making a great effort for her son's sake to be amiable and Margaret met her halfway. She wanted nothing more than to befriend the stern mother whose overprotective jealousy of her son's affection was to become a constant factor in Margaret's life. The task turned out to be less trying than anticipated for Margaret had learned humility since their last encounter and it allowed her to view the woman with different eyes. It was apparent to her now that Mrs. Thornton was rather shy in society, hid her shyness behind irritated indifference. Margaret was honored that she had ventured to London at all so she put aside hard feelings. Mrs. Thornton seemed to do the same and with Mr. Thornton as a foundation, a stronger one could not be had, they began to build a tentative relationship from the bond of their mutual love for him.

The week passed quickly and Mr. Thornton arrived unexpectedly that morning. The events that transpired after his arrival led to her present situation on a train to Milton, tucked against his side, Miss Hale no longer. A smile curled her full lips as she remembered John standing in the breakfast room, announcing that he was taking his mother and wife home. She would never forget the look on her aunt's face or how quickly and easily the feat was accomplished nor Edith's awed expression when Margaret faced her in the dressing room, hair left down and swept back except for a few tendrils of curl left to drift about her face, the white and cream dress hanging in delicate folds modestly outlining her figure.

"You look like an angel," her cousin had breathed before bursting into tears. "Oh Margaret, how I shall miss you!"

Edith's husband and Mr. Lennox had arrived while Margaret was dressing, both inclined to join the impromptu wedding party to the church.

"Do you regret the lack of trees and the London church?" Mr. Lennox murmured rather coldly, moving next to Margaret to assist her into the carriage.

She frowned at his tone and the memory of that long ago conversation, which had once given him false hope and instigated her first unwelcome marriage proposal. Her ideas of walking to church through the New Forest of Helstone had been all but forgotten. She would be just as happy driving to church on a bleak winter evening as long as a certain 'poor manufacturer' awaited her there. A tear suddenly escaped, fleeing down her cheek as she thought of the one thing that would make this beautiful summer morning complete.

She replied, "I only regret that my parents aren't here, Henry." He had the grace to look abashed but Margaret, taking a deep breath and smiling brightly through her momentary sadness, added: "At least we escaped the wedding breakfast!"

Mrs. Shaw remarked afterward that it certainly wasn't a traditional wedding, but Edith pointed out that Margaret had never been a traditional woman. The wedding suited Margaret in its quiet simplicity. Only close family and friends were in attendance, the absence of lost loved ones keenly felt. The groom awaited her at the alter, tall and stern though his hand was trembling when she laid her own in it and when she looked into his eyes found them shining with unshed tears.

The train was passing through a small farming town as Margaret's eyes began to droop, relaxed by the rolling scenery and the gentle rise and fall of her husband's chest against her, his breath caressing the back of her neck. Lost in these happy sensations, she drifted off to sleep.