Because of my poor English I've asked for help. And I've got it from amazing Beta – coldie voldie. Now this story has two authors. Even if I have written the scheme of "Different way", this is she who is filling it with colours and life. Thank you, coldie voldie!
Chapter three
Margaret remained silent during their lunch at the local inn. The entire train ride back to London was spent in silence. It was obvious that Mr. Bell's proposal was seriously meant, and likewise was a very serious decision to make. She found that she agreed with all his arguments. It was the perfect solution for her, it was logical, incontestable even…but what of love?
She loved Mr. Bell, to be sure; he had always been a second father to her. But she was not in love with him. She had always been certain that she would never marry for less, just like her parents. But now…after his confession, she felt a compulsion to comfort him, to make the last of his days happy. But could she truly be his wife? For propriety's sake there was no other way to accompany him. She could tell that she was drifting towards this option, but there was something, deep in the back of her mind that troubled her greatly.
Mr. Bell sat opposite her in the train car, and from time to time looked upon her with great curiosity. He knew she was thinking about his offer, and could practically feel her inner struggle. But he felt certain of her compassion and common sense. In his rather long life he had never attempted to achieve anything impossible, and would not have attempted this had he felt it was. It wasn't until they reached Harley Street that he spoke to her.
"May I visit you tomorrow?"
"Of course you can Mr. Bell." She said quietly. "Thank you." And he bid her goodnight.
The next morning found Margaret exhausted. She had practically spent the entire night going over Mr. Bell's proposal, searching for any error in his reasoning, and asking herself why she was even doing it. Her father was always a great adherer to logic, she supposed. It was one of the things he respected most about Mr. Thornton. She could still picture his voice clearly in her mind, as he debated various topics with her father.
"Logic would say…"
He was always like that; logical and forthright. He always used common sense. Well…almost always, at least.
"I wish to marry you because I love you!"
Margaret closed her eyes and sighed.
It was then that Margaret resolved to take a few leaves out of others' books. She would use her brain, and employ common sense. Especially in a matter that was so important, and would determine the outcome of her immediate future. Was this the right thing to do? After all, she was fond of Mr. Bell. Only…she was fonder of his logical debating than she was of the thought of him as her-husband. She sighed again. She needed to focus. The only other family she had left was Frederick. While she was certain he missed as much as she did him, he did not really need her. He was newly married, most likely starting his own family. She would not want to burden them. As for the rest of her family-Her Aunt Shaw, Edith and her husband, even by extension Henry-they truly did not need her at all, and was currently burdening them. No, London society held no appeal to her.
She had no friends either. Unless you counted Nicholas Higgins, which Margaret did not. As true a friend he was, and as much as he might need her, Nicholas Higgins had more than enough on his plate with the recent addition of six orphaned children. And there was absolutely nothing she would be able to do for them even if she was there, despite how very much she wanted to. She had no other significant connections in the north.
"I hope you realize that any foolish passion for you on my part is entirely over."
That left Adam Bell, who was close enough to be family to her. And at least there was something she could do for him. She wouldn't feel so much of a burden that way. She craved to have a meaningful goal in her life. Something more than who she would be seeing that week, and how she would find something suitable to wear to such an event. It didn't matter how grand the goal was (running a mill for example). She wanted to do something good, something that was helpful, needed. These things she pondered all night, and the rising of a new day still saw her confused and undecided.
And clumsy as well, she discovered. She was tripping on her own skirts, bumping into furniture, and dropping things at random. Indeed when Henry felt the need to inform everyone of the successful speculation and subsequent failing of Marlborough Mills at breakfast, Margaret dropped her knife. It bounced and landed hidden from sight, and it took her an embarrassingly long while to locate it. After that she had attempted to pour herself a cup of tea, and accidentally poured it all over the table and onto her dress. Even if it had not been a necessity, Margaret would have excused herself to change. An hour and a half later Edith found Margaret asleep upstairs, and it seemed she had finally found a small amount of peace.
And that night when Mr. Bell arrived, Margaret greeted him with a smile.
