Prologue
It was time. The minister was waiting for her at the front of the church. So was Mr. Thornton, her groom. Hannah Thornton, his mother, was there, along with Fanny, his sister. In a moment she would walk down the aisle, take Mr. Thornton's hand in hers, and promise to love, honor and obey him for as long as she lived. Nicholas Higgins was there, along with a few of the masters, but besides these few there were no other witnesses.
Margaret Hale looked down at her dress and drew in a deep breath for courage. It was white, the color currently favored by fashionable Londoners for a wedding dress, but it was edged with black to symbolize her mourning. Her father had only been dead for ten days. If only he had been here to help her make her decision! But it was really no decision at all; she had no choice but to marry Mr. Thornton. She had no relatives to open their homes and give her shelter. Her aunt and cousin were on the continent and were not coming home for years. Her brother Frederick was in exile in Cadiz, and her father's oldest friend, Mr. Bell, had given her no support. She could not live alone and still be considered a respectable woman.
The minister cleared his throat and looked at her meaningfully, a subtle nudge down the aisle. She took another deep breath, smoothed her skirts once, and moved forward, keeping her chin high. Even if this marriage was not her choice, even if her husband did not love her, she was marrying a good man, one who was noble and willing to fulfill a promise made to a friend. He would honor her as his wife. He would not deceive her, and she would do her best to make him happy.
Margaret moved steadily and purposefully down the aisle, feeling suddenly shy in the face of such a solemn ceremony. Mr. Thornton—she must remember to call him his given name, John, after this—was standing motionless as he watched her. His eyes were serious; his mouth had no expression. He might have been carved in stone except that as she came to his side, he reached out and took her hand in his. Margaret could feel his warmth and strength through her glove and for a moment she felt glad to stand so close to him. She looked up and offered him a small, shy smile. He nodded once, an acknowledgement, and faced forward, not looking at her once as he repeated his vows during the short ceremony.
And so they were married.