Margaret went to bed quite unsettled. Despite the tiredness in her limbs, her mind was racing.

Here she had been, thinking these merchants were quite a detestable kind with detestable ways. And though indeed, her visions and those of Mr Thornton didn't come anywhere near each other, she couldn't help but be surprised at his openness and the simple way in which he spoke of himself.

In his speech throughout the entire night there had been none of the pretence that she had always linked to shop-people. She was especially astounded when Mr Thornton, who to her had just been this one-dimensional force of a man; unyielding and unbending, suddenly started speaking of his mother with such adoration and respect.

She was still very much opposed to his exclamation that anyone could make it should they put their minds to it. But she had to admit that her respect for him had grown significantly, good upbringing or no, to come from where he was, fifteen and indebted to so many, with a father who had killed himself, without a single friend in the world… It was quite remarkable. Though she wasn't sure she liked his views, or the way his presence made her uncomfortable.

Margaret also thought back on Mrs Hale, who hadn't been too well throughout the evening, or the past couple of weeks. She simply couldn't shake the image of her mother on her knees, praying for strength. There were several other signs of something wrong about Mrs Hale. She and Dixon held mysterious consultations in her bedroom, from which Dixon would come out crying and cross, as was her custom when any distress of her mistress called upon her sympathy. There may very well be a good reason to fear her mother was affected by the move. Margaret, before giving herself over to slumber, decided she would continue her quest for a servant with increased vigour.

x.X.x

The next morning, she went to visit Bessy Higgins, as she had promised but had been unable to do the previous day.

Her newly made friend wasn't faring an awful lot better than she had done the last few days. She had been plagued with coughing fits, which had fiercely tired her and made her wish for death, just so that her suffering would end. It had been enough, she said, and the doctor had told her it would take nothing short of a miracle for her to survive winter.

There was another girl at home with Bessy, taller and stronger, who was busy at the wash-tub. But she was clumsy, knocking about the furniture in a rough way and making way too much noise for poor Bessy. As the girl hurried about the room clumsily, but without speaking, an idea popped up in Margaret's head.

'Pardon me, but what do you for a living?'

And it was thus, Nicholas Higgins, when he came home and discovered the proud woman who had promised to come, had not only delivered on her promise he hadn't expected her to keep, but had also offered his youngest refined employment, that Margaret earned his respect and unwavering loyalty.

x.X.x

After lunch, their house was a flurry once again, but this time, Margaret wasn't the one who needed to work until the point of exhaustion.

No, she was simply to spend the afternoon at home with her hair in papers. And annoyed she was, during this time of sitting about. She wasn't allowed to continue her read of Dante's Inferno, for her mother had replaced it with novels from the last couple of decades, talking of love, and some luckily, of societal problems as well.

When Margaret first noticed this, as she had grasped for her book but found a smaller book on the place where she had left Dante, her mother smiled mischievously.

'I care greatly for your intellect and education, Margaret. But you must spent some time reading material which will stimulate your emotional development as well. It mustn't always be serious topics, sometimes you can think about follies and love as well. You mustn't forget you are not even nineteen, and a single lady at that! With all our trouble and the lack of a second servant, you haven't been able to think about the future while here. Yet it is very important to think on it. When your father dies, who will look out for us? I'm afraid we won't have much money to provide for ourselves. Can it really be you haven't found anyone in London enough to your liking to marry? I can make aunt Shaw take you in again, you know. Because I'm afraid it is quite impossible for you to find a husband here in this town full of merchants. No matter how rich they are, richer even then the richest duke, there is no money in their families. If they lose their business, or their ability to work, they only have the money from their bank account. There is nothing, no grounds nor family money, to fall back on.'

'Oh mama, I have no wish to abandon you and papa. I know how uncertain our future is, and I promise I will do my best to be pleasing to every man I meet who might be suitable for me. I must admit I have never spent much time vying for a husband in London, really. I don't know what I envision a husband to be, but I'm sure I would recognise him should I meet him.'

'But then let us think on it, Margaret. Pray, what would you desire?'

'Oh I don't know. Well, at the very least he would need to be kind and understanding. More than preferably not dumb, I couldn't deal having to spend my life with someone whom I cannot talk to about philosophy, theology and literature. You know I detest shop-people, but I don't want a husband who is idle either, I want purpose in my own life, so it would only be natural for him to have purpose as well.'

'So kind and smart?'

'And he must love his parents! Only one who loves one's parents can understand my love for my parents and my desire to spend time with them. He must also be humble, I don't much care for airs and pride, I've seen too much of that in London. I detest people who think a great deal of themselves and look down on these beneath them.'

'But all of that is very well Margaret, but those are things about how he treats the world around him, not how he will treat you, or what you want out of your relationship.'

'I don't know, I'm partially supposed to marry for money, aren't I? So how much love can I expect? I don't know if I can, therefor I care a lot about how he treats those around him. If he treats those around him with respect and kindness, I will respect him. And respect is a great basis for love, isn't it?'

'It's certainly promising, there needs to be respect.'

'How did you know daddy was the one, mama?'

'Oh, I can hardly recall. Those first days were a blur. He was just such a bright conversationalist. Educated and smart, but very kind. Never looking down on those who couldn't follow his train of thought or usage of intellectual constructs. He was very eloquent and – may I say – very handsome. It made my heart flutter, the way he looked at me, his will to do good, the way in which he brought his opinion… But Margaret, I have learned the hard way that ideas and thinking don't always lead to happy life.'

'See, that is what I want too though, someone who challenges me with his views. Who puts forth opinions, someone I can argue with and have a stimulating conversation with. I assume if he was handsome that would help falling in love a great deal easier.'

'One needn't be handsome to be attractive, Margaret love. But you don't understand that yet, I can see the confusion in your eyes. You talk of love as if it is a chore one has to do, dear girl, but the thing is… Loving isn't a thing you can do, it just happens. Your mind and body will know before you are even aware of it, despite their character and despite their looks. You might even find yourself disagreeing with who you have decided to fall in love with. What you describe may indeed be a good husband, therefor I will only advise you the following. Just make sure they are wealthy enough to provide for you, and assure yourself they are kind and respect you, know whether you can have reasonable conversations with. That's a solid base. All the rest is nice but secondary, just make sure you yourself will be fine for the rest of your life. It will do you no good if you will embark on an eternal search for someone with the exact same views who ticks all your boxes. Not only will someone who is too much like you, not make for a good husband, but finding such a man will also be like finding a needle in a haystack, and there aren't many good men here to begin with.'

Margaret had to laugh, though she didn't quite understand her mother's advice yet.

How could a man be attractive if he wasn't handsome? What was attractive even? How could one feel attracted if there was no rational basis or general rules of aesthetics to fall back on? She thought back on the men in her life. Her father? A subtle beauty during his present age, and quite handsome when he was young. Henry Lennox? Handsome, but too slick. Edith's husband? Dashing. The butler at Harley Street? Plain. No, she couldn't quite figure out how attractiveness could be felt or distinguished. Nor could she understand how her mother would have her start a marriage with only three boxes a husband needed to check.

'Maybe, the Mister that has invited us to dinner will have a friend who is quite like Achilles, good in every way but one. And let us hope that one way will not be his purse', she jested. But then it was time to dress and for the curling papers to come out. Dixon brushed her hair and created an updo with braids and strings of pearls.

Margaret couldn't help but curse the present fashion during the cold winter months. With all the light fabrics and thin layers, she felt an immense need to burry herself in shawls. She missed the dresses with more layers and bodices that reached until her hip from her youth. Luckily she had plenty of dresses from her time in London which managed to combine the practical and the beautiful. As for today she had chosen a blue dress with bell sleeves and embellishments on top, but with long sleeves and draped fabric which cascaded downwards from her bust- and back region. At least the sleeves and the extra amount of heavy fabric would ensure that her arms and back wouldn't get cold. She placed the annoying bracelet Edith had given her on her wrist again, and even allowed Dixon to drape a necklace around her throat.

Her mother dressed in the older style, choosing a dark purple dress of glossy fabric which made her pale complexion look intended instead of accidental.

And thus they departed towards Mr Reeves.

x.X.x

The assembly was quite large, to Margaret's shock. Existing of the little family of Mr Reeves, a pregnant Mrs Reeves, and their little one; a Mr Watson; Mr Latimer, Mrs Latimer and Miss Ann Latimer; Mr Slickson; Mr Ball; Mr, Mrs Hallagher Mr Hallagher jr. and Miss Hallagher; and Mr Thornton and his sister.

The married men quickly decided to throw their daughters, all of similar age except the little miss Elizabeth Reeves, together. The wives as well, fell into a comfortable talk amongst themselves, mostly talking about Mrs Reeves baby, and their previous experiences being pregnant, which were of course, no topic for the young ladies, who did their best not to eavesdrop. They talked about fashion, music, and all silliness Margaret was used to discussing, but never had any desire to. Until Fanny Thornton pointed out that 'Had miss Hale not lived in London?', at which Margaret had to verify and thus answer the stream of questions coming her way about the city, the buildings, her opinion the best parks, fashion, which music pieces were in style. At the last one Margaret told them her knowledge simply had to be outdated, since fashion in London moved very quickly, and she had already been gone for three months.

Yet they ushered her to the piano, despite her proclaiming not to be a good player. She wasn't, she was everything but a natural. Edith could rouse from one of her slumbers and start playing a heavenly melody, whilst she had to take two minutes before her fingers were adjusted to the movement again. Whether that was a result of her lack of playing, or her fingers simply not naturally being made for the piano, she didn't know. But she did know that she had spent an awful lot of time playing until she got the notes of the pieces she learned right, she had a hard time remembering keys, while she never had a hard time remembering concept or names she read. She believed her muscle memory to not be as well developed as her auditive memory or her visual memory.

But she played the latest music she had learned, and immediately the girls gushed they hadn't heard it before, except Miss Latimer, who exclaimed having heard it somewhere nearer to London whilst she was travelling with her family and had gone to a concert. But in a private room, she had indeed never heard it before.

But the girls weren't the only ones who took notices, some men too, gazed at the dark haired novelty at the piano.

'Who is that girl, Hale, is she yours?'

'Yes, that is my daughter I mentioned before, Margaret.' Mr Thornton wasn't the only one eying her intensely, Mr Ball was also focussed on the young unmarried southern girl.

Margaret looked up upon hearing her name being mentioned, and looked at her father questioningly, but with open loving eyes, so different from the gaze with which she had greeted the guests here tonight. Mr Thornton wondered how one could be so loving towards one, yet so closed off and impossibly cool towards everyone else. Maybe it was the fashion in London that one couldn't show kindness or have an open expression. He'd often heard Londoners were always acting, always portraying a version of themselves they wanted the world to see, just to protect themselves.

He detested these kinds of falsehoods, yet he knew he himself always played the role of a hard man. He was a hard man, but both he and his mother knew him to have a soft heart which cared for his employees and family, but he too knew showing fear or trust was naïve in business relationships.

Mr Hale shook his head and Margaret lowered hers again, some delightful tight curls framing her face. Her hair had been redone, whispy bangs now obscuring a part of her forehead and making the vibrant colour of her eyes and lips, and the lily whiteness of her cheeks, only more noticeable.

They resumed talking, but every so often, his eyes were drawn again to the slim fingers brushing the keys, and he suddenly felt the wish within himself to be that very piano – or to touch the keys she had touched, in order to feel a measure of closeness. No! Wake up man!

The servant called them to dinner and Margaret finished her current song, and that was the end of it.

Dinner, for Mr Thornton, offered the routine topics of weather, trade, economics and talk of future ventures. For Margaret, dinner proved to be yet another occasion where her southern views were confronted with the very different northern ones.

The men were discussing business, but in a refreshing turn of event, the conversation of the women picked up their topics, sometimes they discussed their opinions amongst the women, because they all had an opinion on what their husbands did as wives and daughters were bound to have, but they were all stuck in the entrapment of their gender as their voice could advice but no one was obliged to listen.

Mr Slickson talked about sending a very small convoy North, to pick up Mongol trade. The toll was quite high, but the road was shorter, but this was not what bothered Margaret. What bothered her was the fact that it was winter, and no sea was as dangerous – or so it seemed to be from the information she'd collected – and full of ice. And if the ships survived the venture despite the frozen sea, it was very likely men would die because of the cold.

It seemed such a waste, and the association between Slickson and the cruel Captain Frederick had served under was instant.

'But surely it cannot be right to just throw away human life like that. It's already a pity if they die, but to send men out at sea, knowing some will die while they don't have to cannot be advisable?' Margaret said in utter astonishment.

'In true commerce, as in true preaching or true fighting, it is necessary to admit the idea of occasional voluntary loss. A merchant is bound to meet fearlessly any form of distress, poverty or labour, which may come upon him. Acceptance of risk is crucial to ethical economic practice.'

Mr Thornton replied, having overheard Margaret who was seated almost across of him. He immediately saw her mouth move in protest.

'Though I agree a risk must be calculated, not taken simply because it is the cheap thing to do. I have much respect for human life, as should we all. We need to be grateful of our sailors, without them we would be out of business, and good experienced hands are hard to find sometimes. I've lost many a good sailor to the navy, the sea or the start of their own companies. I can already name ten men who aren't of any particular rank on my ship whose loss would be felt by their crew members should they die', Mr Thornton replied.

'Well there we disagree Thornton, I see trade as an interesting business. It is winter, our ventures will not be as numerous, I would like to expand my fleet and therefor I need money. If I offer the men I send more money, they want to go on that venture, for they too could use the money. It is astounding what a man will do for money, they will gladly accept the risk. And since I know some will die, it will be no problem for me to pay those who do survive more. It is no increase of spending for me, the added money I give them, is simply the money I don't have to spend on the dead ones.'

He grinned proudly, as if impressed by the genius of his own reasoning. Margaret's stomach twisted, but she saw Mr Thornton's disgust as well.

Mr Slickson was indeed the vile creature she took merchants to be, aimed at garnering as much money as he could, no matter the cost, never thinking of the people, and feeling high and mighty because of his wealth, having never learned humbleness.

Compared to him, it became clear that though her and mr Thornton disagreed, he was merely trying to be practical. Though Margaret didn't know how one could ever be fine with accepting human loss.

After that Mrs Reeves decided that there had been enough business talk, and everyone was to talk of more enjoyable topics.

Dinner was long, with there being no less than six courses, with two main dishes during each course, to see which one was liked best.

Afterward, Margaret had been fully prepared to separate from the men, with the women going to a separate drawing room so that the men could resume their talk and smoke cigars.

And they did, but as they were walking to the drawing room, Mrs Reeves already assured the young ladies that after she put little Elizabeth to bed, there would be dancing and all enjoyments that could be had in a party as big as this one, a size they rarely entertained.

x.X.x

'Well well, Miss Hale, you are quite a frank one I must tell you', Miss Latimer laughed as she went to sit down next to a cat to stroke its fur.

'I believe I don't quite follow.'

'Oh, just an hour ago, when you so bluntly put that you disapproved of some of the men's practices? It really was quite bold and forthright, though I quite agreed with you. My, Mr Slickson didn't care but Mr Thornton's face was quite the thing. As if he couldn't grasp how someone could not understand the loss of human life. But poor dear, you've probably never seen business where loss of human life is so common and unavoidable, they don't understand your naïveté.'

'Is it naïve to wish for no human life to be sacrificed for no reason?'

'Oh no, that is quite understandable', said Fanny Thornton as she tried to fix the pleads of her shawl in a fashionable way, ' but you spoke as if no venture was ever worth a human life. My brother was quite right when he said there was always a risk, a risk that couldn't be prevented. If no one was ever allowed to die, then there would never be any commerce, for every long journey by boat holds a risk: be it storms, pirates or illness. You can never ascertain that everyone will make the trip alive, you can try and limit the risk of course, which is what Mr Slickson won't do, but most aren't like him. Especially not John, he is quite the careful company owner. No one can disagree on the fact that he treats his employees with as much respect as they deserve.'

The other women protested, saying their husbands were quite respectful as well.

'But at least you managed to get Mr Thornton's attention. That's a feat for any woman', Miss Latimer whispered conspiratorial, so that the married women couldn't hear.

'Oh, not this again', laughed Fanny Thornton.

'Why of course, you do know your brother is the only single business owner with a company a similar size to ours.'

Margaret assumed that meant that he was the only bachelor remaining of their social class. Here in the north, it appeared the class system was created on basis of income and the size of business. There had to be many other owners of companies and businesses, just like there had to be some gentry, aristocracy, politicians and respected lawyers. But apparently, all those were considered undesirable in the eyes of Miss Anne Latimer. Margaret wondered why.

'Yes, I am quite aware, but Anne, rest assured, the second my brother decides he wants a wife, he'll pick you. There is not a girl as beautiful as you, I do apologise, Miss Hale and Miss Hallagher, but it is true, I cannot lie.'

Miss Thornton was right that Ann Latimer was quite the beauty. She was tall and slim, but her figure was soft and womanly. Her hair a golden blonde, her eyebrows beautifully curved, and her eyes a perfect shade of blue. The Venus of Botticelli couldn't be more perfect. Her face had none of the haughtiness Margaret's face was naturally full of, and her features were vibrant and harmonious unlike Miss Hallagher's pretty but long face which possessed no roundness in the cheeks, or strength of jaw. Even her teeth were perfectly straight, just like those of Mr Thornton's, while Margaret's bottom row was crooked.

'It's fine, I don't much care for him, oh I'm sorry Fanny but it is true, you know who I have my heart set on', Miss Hallagher smiled.

'It's a young lawyer who works quite closely with Mr Watson, my fiancé. There is no doubt he will soon take over the firm once his boss retires, since his boss's sons don't want it. One has joined the clergy and the other started a printing shop', Miss Thornton said, noticing Margaret's confusion.

'Oh', she nodded. She decided there was no need for her to verify she had no desire for Mr Thornton. Here were all these girls who came from similar backgrounds and were of similar wealth. It would be obvious a southern girl in her circumstances was not going to engage herself with a merchant of Liverpool.

At this moment, Mrs Reeves returned and fetched the women to come to their biggest salon on the ground floor. It had been heated by the fireplace and the furniture had been removed. The piano had also been relocated. Now a couple of servants had gathered near the piano, having been trained to play dance music should the occasion require it.

x.X.x

It was Miss Thornton who broke the ice by deciding to dance with her fiancé, as the only unmarried couple no one would accuse of any hidden motifs. Mr and Mrs Reeves both chose someone to get people dancing. Margaret was at first happy to just sit by her mother, who was elated to see people dance. Even a blush had risen on her cheeks because of the wine and warmth of the room.

'Oh Margaret dear, how lovely. It has been such a long time since I heard joyful dance music and saw young people dance. Please join them, it would so delight me.'

'Oh mama, and leave you alone? And who would there be to dance with? I have barely been introduced to these men. No I will sit here and enjoy with you, my dear mama.'

Mr Thornton, had overheard, but had never had any real dance training. He could sympathise with a mother's request, but it collided with his pride as he didn't want to make a fool of himself. He watched his sister dance and jump.

Yes, he had practiced many a time with her before, as she was learning how to dance and had been in need of a male partner. But dancing in a room in their own home with his sister was quite different from this.

Mr Ball had no qualms however, seeing a young beautiful woman left on the side, and fetched her immediately. And in the end, Mr Hallagher asked Miss Latimer and Mr Thornton was forced by his honour to take on Miss Hallagher, as he couldn't let the daughter and sister of his business partners sit on the side as the only unmarried woman while he, as the only unmarried man, stayed put.

Then it came time to switch partners, and Margaret and Mr Thornton landed together as a slower song with less exchanging of the partners came on.

Margaret recognized the song instantly, a blush rising to her cheeks. Now was the moment she realized her current dress hadn't asked for gloves, and this was the time she noticed none of the men present were wearing gloves either. Their hands could touch, their arms would touch as they circled each other. Quite naughty of Mrs Reeves to include this one!

Mr Thornton was oblivious to the turmoil, but was glad he was now close to Miss Hale, and able to appreciate her moving figure to the fullest.

'Mr Thornton, I believe I must offer my apology', Margaret said gently as they stood close by. Mr Thornton frowned, but the music forced Margaret to walk around his person before she could continue.

'I believe I gave you offense yesterday. I didn't notice your hand until I had bowed', she explained.

The two stepped apart and went to stand in lines across each other. The men walked around the other men to their left, and the women did the same. After some zigzagging, and changes, they were reunited again.

'About that, I believe it is I who has to apologize. A gentleman should never offer his hand to a lady, or expect her to take it.'

At that, they both stuck up their hands against each other as they started walking circles. Margaret and Mr Thornton both had to smile at the irony of the conversation, though both their hearts skipped a beat because of the rare skin to skin contact with someone who wasn't family.

'I believe we are sometimes not aware of how different something even as simple as a greeting or a leave-taking can be, depending on the region.'

'Yes, North and South are quite different, but I hope you and your family are adjusting without too many problems?'

Margaret smiled. 'Only just.'

Brownie points for those who recognized that their dance scene is inspired by the dance Elizabeth and Mr Darcy shared.

eagraves9: Thank you for your comment 3

domineofspades: Thank you for commenting!

sari18: Yes it was quite similar to the book, I enjoy having some good chunks similar, but I very much delight in making up new pieces as well, as I hope this chapter shows. I hope you will enjoy the divergences as well :)