A/N: This is a revamping of what I had originally posted. Obviously, I am no Elizabeth Gaskell but am trying to tweak her beautiful story a bit. I don't own any of the characters, just the right to play with them. ;)

Margaret Hale had greatly anticipated giving up those items which were considered necessities on the wealthy and fashionable Harley Street, in her Aunt Shaw's house, but were, in fact, believed to be luxuries in the eyes of much of the rest of the world. She had been conscious of her pride in eschewing those same pleasures and being able to do without them all. But the cloud never comes in that quarter of the horizon from which we watch for it. As Margaret had visited her home only on holidays while residing with in London, any slight complaints by her mother over some trifle or another had been overlooked and forgotten in favor of her greater remembrance of general happiness and contentment.

She returned to Helstone in July and much preferred her time calling upon particular friends and performing those duties which were required of the parson's family. Her life in the neighborhood was, to her thinking, perfect; it was her life within the walls of Helstone that was not. As the autumnal rains and storms came on in the second half of September, Margaret was obliged to remain more in the house than she had previously and was unable to avail herself of the invitingly open expanses out of doors.

As Helstone was not located within easy walk of any acquaintance of their standard of cultivation, Mrs. Hale took to plaintively protesting their out-of-the-way location and lack of proximity to those individuals with whom it would not be a trial to associate. Margaret was so happy out of doors, at her father's side, that she almost danced but the evenings were rather difficult to fill up agreeably, as Mr. Hale had long ago taken to retiring to his library in the evenings, while his wife was partial to the more feminine pursuits of embroidery and needlework. Though she had married a clergyman, Mrs. Hale viewed the interruptions of family life which arose out of Mr. Hale's duties as hardships to be both struggled against and merely endured.

It was after tea, on a quiet evening, that Mr. Hale stood, leaning his elbow upon the chimney piece and his head upon his hand. His countenance showed thoughtful, as if he were musing over something deeply. Margaret was present, tidying some piece of her mother's embroidery.

Mr. Hale lifted his head of a sudden and said in a desperate voice, 'Margaret, could you join me in my study? I must speak with you on a matter of grave significance to our entire family.' Shocked she was but curious, as well, so she followed him with no little trepidation.

It was done; the issue was already settled. The Hales were to leave Helstone, the place where Margaret had thought to always return, her beloved green country of friends and comfort. Mr. Hale had, for some length of time, been reading literature that, when taken in combination with his sensitive character, caused him to entirely doubt his right to continue in the living which had been his for many years now. He felt his loss most acutely, even though it was entirely of his own doing, and wished to acquaint Margaret with such details as he deemed necessary to ensure that she could communicate the news to Mrs. Hale.

On Margaret's inquiry as to where they should go on quitting Helstone, Mr. Hale informed his daughter that he had fixed upon Milton-Northern, as it provided opportunities for him to earn his way. In that place also was to be found an anonymity, which he sought most passionately, so as to be unknown to all and none could remind him of that which he regretted leaving. It was a bustling manufacturing town and the soon-to-be-former parson wished for nothing more than a busy life, even if it was not happy. Mr. Hale had corresponded with his friend of many years, a Mr. Bell, who was a fellow of Plymouth College in Oxford and owned properties in Milton. This man, the g-dfather to Margaret's older brother, had offered what help he could in recognition of their long-standing connection and had noted that the position of private tutor was not only available but eminently suited to Mr. Hale's abilities.

It fell to Margaret to arrange their removal and thus, she had no time to ponder the gravity of this change or examine her own emotions concerning their leaving Helstone for a locale that could not have been more opposite to the serene, natural surroundings that had lived in Margaret's mind's-eye for the whole of her life. A fortnight! That was the entirety of the time allotted to packing and preparing for their future, one in which they must be far removed from all familiar faces and places. If not for the force of busy-ness, Margaret knew that she would become mired in sorrow and despair but – no! She was made of different stuff; she would arrange the whole, as her parents relied upon the energy of her youth.

Margaret had decided upon Heston, a spot not too distant, perhaps thirty miles, from Milton, for her mother to enjoy the sea air, while she and her father traveled to Milton-Northern to find the Hale's new lodgings. Dixon was to accompany her mistress at the shore, as Mrs. Hale would be quite lost without her loyal and beloved servant and particularly as Mr. Hale would not present in Heston.

The time apportioned to Margaret for her last enjoyment of Helstone was at an end and the packers had come to collect those things that made up the reassurance and remembrances of years past. Books, attire and furniture were bundled and boxed in readiness for storing the objects until a more permanent abode could be found for the items and their owners. That last night, in the privacy of her familiar bedroom, Margaret found herself in great danger of permitting the suppressed tears that had threatened from her first knowledge of their plight. She both wished for slumber and feared it: Sleep would prevent memorizing faithfully every detail, every knot in the floorboards which she was nevermore to call her own, but to remain awake was to think and question, leading to the inevitable doubts and fears. It was late when fatigue overcame her restless thoughts and, as Margaret found oblivion, a single tear escaped and slowly crept down her cheek.

At the mercy of railroad time, they were gone early in the morning, torn away from their cherished home by punctuality and necessity. The journey went past London, that scene of past delight and enjoyment but now a shadow and sorrow on their northward trek.

On reaching Heston, Margaret gained her first perception of the not insignificant difference in the manners and actions of the Northern folk. The shop people were unlike the storekeepers in the South; there was no idleness, no lounging about quietly watching passers-by. There was a purposefulness about them, a fierce dedication to their trade that showed in their incessant motion. Margaret was, despite any former notion of shoppy people and tradesmen, fascinated by their resolve and conviction, as it was of a likeness with her own.

One evening, it was arranged that Margaret and her father were to go to Milton on the next day to search for their house. Mr. Hale was anticipating meeting Mr. Thornton in person, as they had maintained a regular correspondence since their mutual acquaintance Mr. Bell had taken pains to introduce the one to the other's notice.

Though a person might be frightened of an unyielding future, it must be met; better to greet your tomorrow with composure, regardless of how uncertain it might be, than to shrink away in alarm. Thus, Margaret and Mr. Hale found themselves entering Milton, taking note of the regular, smallish brick houses, and as they gained the wider roads, they were forced to stop frequently to accommodate passing vehicles; though there were a vast number of trucks and wagons and vans, they all appeared to be carrying cotton, in its various forms. Again, Margaret perceived the resolute nature of the Northern people, the unending trudging of some entering the enormous, smoking factories, some exiting those same buildings, and she wondered at the character of Milton's inhabitants – what nature of existence could she expect in this new reality?