"I don't know how anyone could prefer this version. It's so… grim!" a pause, and as Mary's eyes meet Margaret's, laughter. The sudden joyful noise startles the children, and three of them drift curiously towards the kitchen. Mary pats a blonde topped head as she returns the book, "I much prefer the one with the fairy godmother – that's magic for you! And no horrible feet cutting" Margaret bites her lips at that – it was, of course, one of her favorite parts of the Brothers Grimm's Cinderella, from a book the library just recently acquired.
"I agree it doesn't make the most appropriate tale before bedtime…" she sighs, pulls the youngest girl into her lap, "But surely you can appreciate the nuances!"
Mary scrunches up her face, but can very well picture a certain Mrs. Hale and her daughter as the evil women on the story, as probably did Margaret. "Save your fancy wording to the draper boy" she decides to answer, letting a cheeky smile grow just to infuriate her friend further. "And don't let Tess fall asleep on you again, she'll be spoiled!" she laughs as she steers the boys back to the bedroom, rejoicing in the blush spreading on Margaret's frowning face.
The aforementioned little girl conspicuously sticks her tongue out, and Margaret bites her lips again, in case she isn't strong enough to resist the temptation of copying little Tess. In spite of the previous jab, or maybe because of it, she can't help the images her mind is suddenly flooded with – that of the last time she met him on the library and heard his laughter for the first time. Her traitorous heart joins her equally traitorous mind by picking up its beat, and she takes deep breaths while carrying the girl back to bed. She isn't heavy, but adds to the constant dull ache in Margaret's body, although everything takes a bit of a sweeter tone when the kids were involved.
After a whole day sweating in the kitchen heat, being able to call on Mary late in the evening brought some life back to her disheartened self. Sometimes it seems like the only place she can actually enjoy a meal, surrounded by the warmness of the close fire and the gaggle of children. She inhales the night air deeply on her way back to the Crampton house, holds her book closely and lets her mind wonder a little about the fairytale Mary was complaining about. She sometimes wishes there was such thing as magic – surely at one point the forests around her home in Helston could have convinced her that there lived beings out of this world. Probably under the hedge roses, along the soft golden petals, played mischievous minute creatures that needed naught but honey to survive. Or high up the willow trees, secretive elves made bridges and hideouts out of intrinsically carved wood.
But such times are long past, and there seemed to have no room for such farfetched reveries in Milton. If there were any magic left in the city, it was probably changed to something sorrowful and cold. The creaky board at the servants' entry seems to confirm her thoughts, as does the darkened corridor and stairs down to the basement. The chilly air in her chamber cuts deeper than usual, chasing away the brave strands of color and brilliancy and goodness that still clung to her heart, leaving her feeling hollow inside.
And so impossibly alone.
oOo
It's been a change of seasons since the wedding, and with Edith still away with her new husband in Greece there was little to distract Madam Hale other than her social functions. This left Margaret under her full attention, both finding there was apparently no end to all the creative work the older woman could order her stepdaughter to do, leaving not a single minute when Margaret could take a pause to even catch her breath. It also proved to be a great distraction for the mistress of the house, who wanted her mind far away from the bore of domestic economy.
For all of Madam Hale's claims to owning a grand fortune, her lavish lifestyle has proved to be well beyond her means. Almost two years after the late Mr. Shaw passed; she's had barely enough time to enjoy the comfortable livings and her prized, beautiful daughter, when she received the most dreadful news about her financial status. Living in the capital proved to be no longer affordable if she wanted to keep her social life as it was and Edith's dowry untouched.
Marriage to Mr. Shaw has never been a matter of love, but that of duty. Thus, taking a second husband and therefore having a legitimate reason to leave the capital and diluting her expenses without losing status seemed the best course of action. A certain Mr. Hale seemed most appropriate for the post, being a widow with a daughter himself. Of course, it was only after marrying the cowardly gentleman that she found how he could have never known what a marriage of convenience meant.
Madam Hale huffed and fanned herself to try and disperse such sour thoughts. Mr. Hale was decidedly gone, and he was never very enthusiastic about her fashionable tastes and ideas for entertaining to be properly missed. He even had the gall to leave a will that ascertained she would be completely responsible for his wretched daughter until she was married. Even worst, he left both Margaret and some other friend letters of goodbye. Of course she burned them both, in a fit of rage that to this day still seemed a very righteous act.
"Excuse me, Madam, here's your tea"
Speak of the devil! It seemed to be of no use, trying to steer away from unpleasant matters when there seemed to be nothing she could ever do to bend and break the girl.
"I changed my mind" she stood, "Prepare my shawl, hat and gloves, I shall take a walk". As an afterthought, she took a look around the room, skipping the letters on the table and deliberately taking embroidery basket from the settee and dropping its contents on the floor, "Do not forget to tidy up, there mustn't be a pin out of place when I come back"
With a last sneer towards the girl, she went upstairs, already thinking how to best start bragging to Mrs. Latimer about the most exciting news she received on dear Edith's last letters. She couldn't wait to start planning a complete layette for the baby!
oOo
They are arguing about Plato.
Again.
"Surely, a Republic would be an ideal government, considering…"
"Considering one was born with high social status and, of course, as a man! There was no choice for anyone else; I wonder how can you even defend it? We'd both stand no chance under such regime."
"Well…" he searches for words, scowls, "when you put it like that…"
She gives him that insufferable smile, the one she wears when she knows she's right. And really, how could he argue against her, especially considering his current position. Still, there was that flame burning inside, pushing him to make her keep talking somehow, stay a little longer, even if it meant he would eventually be consumed by fire.
"I think we better go now," Margaret sighs, calming herself down, "or Mr. Crow will have to rush us out again". She lifts herself up in a graceful manner and he wonders how someone manages so effortlessly to always act with such elegance. Alas, she frowns, "Or if Sholto wakes up suddenly again, then I'll be in trouble"
He nods, remembering Mrs. Lennox' child, a two month's old boy who knew nothing but crying. Both gather their coats at the entryway – winter may come and go, but nights remained chilly in Milton.
John feels a certain tightness in his chest that's been marking its presence every time he watches her go. He once thought that, after so many months of some sort of tentative friendship, the pull towards her would lessen in strength, but their occasional meetings kept proving him sorely mistaken. He relishes her company too much, drinks her words as the old Grecian gods took nectar to survive – makes him risk making a fool of himself with such comparisons. It must be completely ungentlemanly to marvel at her hands as often as he does –
"Well, then, we shall depart from here" her voice summons him back to reality, and he cannot help thinking how often such occasion repeats itself.
"It is very late, if the lady wouldn't mind, might I accompany you until we reach Crampton?"
Margaret is taken aback by his offer, being accustomed to walking back all alone. It wasn't ladylike at all to be out at such hours, but she had to make the most of the smallest opportunities to leave the house, and never expected anyone to look out for her. Hence his slightly outstretched arm taking her completely by surprise.
She gulps deeply and accepts his offer.
oOo
She is sure this is how it must feel to live underwater – the sounds are all disperse and with the strangest quality, her body feeling pressured from all sides. He is speaking, for his mouth is moving, but she seemed to have submerged under this strange spell when his dismantled words started making some kind of sense. Was he… declaring his love for her? She shivered and trembled under his gaze, feeling very small and scared.
He couldn't.
He couldn't love her!
"Miss Hale, I do know I'm not in the position to offer you anything, and I know such a creature as you must not care for me. Still, I love, and if you would have me, you could leave that awful pla-"
Something snaps inside her, and she finally emerges.
"How dare you?" she feels coldness prickling up her skin, not in the least as sweet as the sensation she felt before, with his chilly fingers on her arm, "How dare you, turning something I trusted you with against me?"
"That is not what I meant, surely you – "
"No! No, 'I surely' nothing!" there is too much anger, too much resent threatening to consume her, and she can't hear it anymore, the entire world already tinted an ugly red. "I need no savior, mister, especially not you!"
Hurt was a terrible thing, particularly one that struck where it already hurt. He laughs bitterly, spurring her rage even more. "No, I wouldn't expect you to even consider a lowly man like myself. I just meant to tell you my feelings, Miss Hale, for they are true. I care for you, immensely! And foolishly wished you would give me a chance to try and pursue your affections!"
"And as I thought I made clear, the answer is no! I believed we were friends, and could never have considered anything more!" which is a lie, she knows, muddy green and slimy, running down her throat, but she can't seem to stop the words from tumbling down, "I do not allow you to continue to act on such selfish desires!"
There, that is the point something precious breaks audibly between them. Both stand facing each other, heaving, and hoping the other couldn't hear the shattering of their hearts.
"Come, let us not part like this, Miss Hale", he finally manages to let out, awkwardly lifting his hand.
She turns away and leaves without a word.
AN: Hello once more! I hope you all received my messages answering and thanking you for the reviews. To all of those who took the time to read so far, I am very grateful.
This chapter gave me more trouble than I could have anticipated, so I apologize for taking so long to publish it. I had to develop a bit more ground before the second part of the story, since I'm trying to make both North & South and Cinderella's plot meet. If you have any questions so far, feel free to ask me and also comment if there's something troubling you about the story, be it the plot of the writing itself.
