A/N-I have received some comments about Dixon overstepping her bounds, I could not agree more! I have written her that way, because that is the way that I see her. In Chapter 42, Aunt Shaw shows up and they are talking about stations and blood line, and Dixon gets a bigger chip on her shoulder than she had previously, I always think of this when I write Dixon: '…made Dixon rather inclined to be supercilious in her treatment of any inhabitant of Milton; so, though she always stood rather in awe of Mr. Thornton, she was as curt as she durst be in telling him that he could see none of the inmates of the house that night' I tried to put her in a separate carriage or leave her in Oxford, but it just didn't work out…Though I am sure that John would have happily incurred the added expense.
Side note: I could not write Higgins per the novel…tried, it looked/read ridiculous! N&S belongs to Gaskell, I have merely lovingly borrowed her characters.
Mr. Thornton was sitting next to Margaret, his hands gripping his knees. His eyes were straight forward, they were not on Dixon, in fact, they were miles away, months away. He felt himself in the Hale's parlor waiting anxiously on Margaret to join him. Words and phrases began to poison his mind. 'your whole manner offends me,' 'any gentleman,' 'that I was prompted by some particular feeling for you—you!' 'Why, there was not a man for whom I had not more sympathy.' 'I do not care to understand you.' 'I do not like you, and never have.'
Margaret watched Mr. Thornton who seemed to be deeply distressed. She had witnessed him speak to Mr. Bell before he entered the carriage and knew that they must have spoken about some particularly disagreeable subject. In fact, most things that Mr. Bell said this morning were particularly disagreeable. Dixon had turned to the window and did not seem to take note of Mr. Thornton's discomfort, but the longer that he sat there, the further Margaret watched him fall into what appeared to be despair. After a few minutes on the on the road, Margaret decided that she should see if there was anything that she could do. After all, he had talked her through a great deal yesterday.
"Mr. Thornton?" She spoke softly, so as not to disturb the trance that the passing trees had inflicted upon Dixon. He did not respond. She placed her hand on top of his, causing him to emit a startled gasp and turn to her. She had never seen such raw emotion in his eyes. They searched hers in a way that both alarmed and strangely exhilarated her in some way that she could not put into words. Her breath caught as he turned his own hand causing their palms to face one another and his fingers and thumb to capture the smaller hand within his gentle grasp. Margaret stared at their hands, she thought of the times that they had greeted one another in a very similar gesture. This seemed to be very different. There was almost something desperate and sensual in the small affection that they were sharing. She would not be the one to bring it to an end.
Bringing her eyes back to his, she continued her original task. "Mr. Thornton, are you alright, you seem distracted?" Her words were filled with concern.
"I was only lost in thought for a moment," he squeezed her hand slightly, "but I am much better now." He basked in the smile that she freely gave, the touch that she did not shy from. He thought over everything that Mr. Bell had said. Margaret would be unhappy in London, yes, but could she be happy with him.
She faced forward once more but left her hand in his possession. The warmth from their hands coursed through her, overwhelming her senses. She moved her thumb over the exposed portion of his palm to his wrist and wondered if it caused the same sensations in him as it had in her. She could feel his eyes on her, but was not uncomfortable under their scrutiny, in all truth, there was something within her that rather enjoyed it. Margaret could not help but to reflect upon Mr. Bell's words and had begun to think that maybe he was right. She tried to wash that notion from her mind, and felt a need to withdraw her hand. She told herself that she would pull it back in a moment. Once that moment passed, she glanced at their hands and thought that she just needed a bit longer, once that interval was gone, she extended it as well. This continued for the better part of an hour.
The ride commenced in an amicable silence. Every few minutes Margaret would turn to Mr. Thornton with a smile to find that his eyes were still upon her. She preferred this quiet communion to speaking with Dixon's discerning ear hearing every word, she hoped that he understood. At some point when Margaret glanced at Mr. Thornton she found that he had fallen asleep. She could not pull from him now, she thought decidedly. That would likely wake him, and she was sure that he needed his sleep. He seemed peaceful, and she felt a desire to really look at him, allow her eyes to rest on him at a length as she never had dared before. She glanced at Dixon and saw that she was beginning to drift as well. Margaret kept close watch on her and the moment that her eyes closed, turned full attention to the Mr. Thornton.
His body was slightly turned toward her with his head against the bench. She had always thought him handsome, but had never allowed herself to examine him closely. Yes, she knew him to be a handsome man, but today, at this moment, she felt an undeniable attraction, she had never found a man more alluring. His lips were slightly parted as his heavy breaths swept in causing his chest to rise and fall. Margaret wondered what those lips would feel like on her own. She felt ashamed of herself, but not enough to take her eyes from him. He had a well defined jaw upon which she saw evidence of what would be a beard if he were not to shave. This short, dark shadow ran down his face and disappeared somewhere beneath is collar.
Margaret thought it odd that a man covered every inch of his body except for his hands. How different it was for a woman, who exposed her neck, arms and shoulders so freely. She wondered if his neck would look so very different from her own. She suddenly began to feel very warm, and thought that odd as it was still early on a winter morning.
As she sat watching him, with the feel of her hand gently tucked in his, she began to feel herself drift off as well. Placing her shoulder against the bench, she leaned her head upon the cushion. She closed her eyes, allowing his sleeping face to be the last thing that she saw before drifting. Somewhere between sleep and consciousness, she felt her back against his firm chest, his arms draped about her waist, his gentle breath against her ear. She felt enveloped in his soothing presence and drifted into the second peaceful sleep that she had experienced in months.
Mr. Thornton awoke to a sound that he could not identify. His eyes opened to Margaret's face, her hand still tucked loosely within his. It felt like a dream. He committed this feeling to memory, as he had little hope of reliving it. If she had not needed the sleep so badly, and he knew what her reaction would be to wake to him in such a way, he would attempt to coax her out of her slumber. Mr. Thornton heard the sound that awoke him moments ago. Looking across the carriage he saw that it had been Dixon clearing her throat, she was giving him the most unfriendly of looks that he had ever received from a servant.
"May I help you, Dixon?" He asked in a petulant whisper.
Dixon looked from him to the hands that lay joined between the pair. He understood her meaning, but would not do the bidding of a servant, even if she was with Margaret.
"Perhaps you would be more comfortable on this side of the carriage, Mr. Thornton. There is much more room to stretch out." Speaking in her normal tone caused Margaret to stir, but only for a moment. Dixon was very unhappy with the sight that she woke to see. She had no intention of sitting by and letting that man make his way into the mistress's affections while she was at her most vulnerable.
"I am fine where I am Dixon. We need to keep our voices down, she has not slept well for some time." She began to contest him, but the look on his face told her not to cross him. The rest of the journey continued with Margaret asleep, Mr. Thornton casually sitting beside her and Dixon across with folded arms, glaring at him.
When the horses finally stopped in front of the Crampton house, it was well past midday. Margaret began to open her sleepy eyes to the sound of Mr. Thornton's baritone voice. "Miss Hale, we are home." As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished himself to be half of a 'we' that had recently arrived to their home.
"We're home?" Margaret asked, as she rubbed her eyes and slowly sat up in her seat. She looked down to see her hand in his. Looking back up at him, she eased her thumb to his wrist once more before retrieving her hand.
"Yes, Miss Margaret, we are home." Dixon stated. Mr. Thornton opened the door and helped both out, Margaret laced her arm through his as he walked them to their parlor. After excusing himself, he returned with the two bags that he had placed in the carriage only yesterday.
"Miss Hale, thank you for your company." Mr. Thornton said, "I wish that I could stay, but I am afraid that I do need to return to the mill this afternoon." He did not want to leave her.
"It is I who should be thanking you, Mr. Thornton. You have been very helpful over these past few days." She placed her hand on his arm before continuing. "I don't know how I would have made it through all of this without you." She meant this. She wanted him to stay, but knew that she had already monopolized too much of his time.
"I was pleased to help." He would be pleased to do anything for her, if only she would help him to see what she would accept from him. They shook hands and he walked to the door. Pressure from the hand on his arm halted his departure.
"Mr. Thornton." He turned to face her, eyes filled with a discerning hope. "Please visit us soon." He nodded and soon returned to the carriage.
Mr. Thornton walked into his bed chamber and changed from his travel clothes. Before heading to the mill, he stopped in the dining room to find his mother.
"Good afternoon, mother." He bent down to kiss her.
"I'm glad to have you home, John. How was Oxford?" He slipped on his coat and walked toward the door.
"We will have to discuss that tomorrow, I am afraid. I have missed too much time at the mill." He replied.
"You should have returned last evening, as you planned. I will never understand why you let that girl rule your head." She stood and walked toward him, straightening his cravat which he had obviously tied in a hurry.
"Mother," he placed his hands on her shoulders. "Do not wait up, I am sure to be in the office late tonight." She simply smiled at him, and let him go on his way.
"I will have the cook keep a plate for you." She called to him before the door closed.
Mr. Thornton worked late into the night and woke up two hours earlier than normal to get ahead the next morning. His purpose was partly to make up for the time that he had missed, but his true intention was to have time to visit Crampton after dinner. As the hands were leaving for the day, Mr. Thornton took his leave as well. He headed toward the house.
"G'day Master." Mr. Thornton turned to see Higgins close in tow, he slowed to allow the man to catch up.
"Good evening, Higgins. How are the children?"
"Fine. Wish you would have been in the dining hall today." Higgins said, he could sense that Thornton was in a hurry to get somewhere.
"I have not had a spare minute today." He added, they were almost through the mill yard.
"Ay, Miss Margaret said as much." Mr. Thornton stopped mid stride. He turned to face Higgins, a stern look upon his face.
"Miss Hale was here?" Thoughts began to race through his mind, but he quelled them in order to hear what Higgins had to say.
"Ay, she went down to visit my Mary, and were told that she worked at Thornton's in the dining-room. She had not heard about it and wanted to see it for herself, and so she did." Thornton just nodded and turned to go inside. He had other questions, but could not have formed them if he had wished to. She had told Higgins that he could not spare time to see her. There was a part of him that thought her considerate for thinking of him. Perhaps she knew that he could scarcely afford to spend time away from the mill. He could not help but wonder why she would come to his mill and not alert him of her presence. He knew that she could not feel for him the way that he did her, but he hoped beyond hope that there was something there, that he had not dreamed up this connection that was forming between them.
He tried to remember the time before he had foolishly proposed to her, he had felt a connection then as well, did he not? He could not banish this manner of thinking, despite his efforts. But, he thought, she had never let him touch her before, and she was very receptive. She had certainly never sat alone with him for hours. Back then she never would have shared her deeper thoughts. She would not have asked to know about him, she would not have been so warm and inviting to him if there was not something there. He found that no amount of reasoning would give him the answers that he was looking for. He would have to seek them through her.
He went to his room to change for the second time today. Looking in the mirror he hoped that a little color would take the edge off of what he knew to be a sometimes too-stern appearance. He left his room and joined his mother for dinner.
"Good evening mother." Mr. Thornton kissed her and took his seat across from her at the large dining table. Meals were much quieter with Fanny married and only his mother for company. He had to admit that despite his occasional annoyances with his sister, he did miss her, especially the levity that she added to their very formal home.
"You were not wearing that this morning, I am sure of it." Mrs. Thornton looked her son over, she was fairly certain that he planned on making an evening visit, but would wait to be told.
"You are right, mother, I am visiting Crampton after dinner." Mr. Thornton readied himself for a battle. He was quite aware of her distain for Miss Hale. He watched her, deciding to take whatever she would say head on. She place her fork on the table and slowly meet his eyes.
"Is that necessary?" She asked.
"I am afraid that it is."
"How is Miss Hale doing, John?" Mrs. Thornton replied, catching her son completely off guard.
"She is doing as well as can be expected, I suppose. She has lost both of her parents within only a few months' time, and I am afraid is feeling a little lost." The conversation with Higgins came to mind, "You did not happen to see her today, did you?"
"No, why would I have seen her?"
"No reason." He replied, he would ask her about it tonight.
"I cannot imagine what she must be going through. She has spoken of an Aunt in London is that her only family, John?" John thought his mother to be unusually sympathetic tonight.
"Well, she does have a brother, I have discovered. He is not here, though." He decided to relay the information to his mother as it was to him, free of drama, and factually driven.
"A Brother? Why on earth would we never have known that there was another child in the Hale family?" Mrs. Thornton was absorbed by the conversation and had not resumed eating. This was quite the opposite of their normal dinner hour.
"We did not know because he is in some trouble with the Navy, it is a lot to explain right now. I actually learned of him from Mr. Bell on the trip back from Havre, it was the same time that I heard of Mr. Hale's passing." He paused for a moment, his mother listening without interruption. "He actually came here before Mrs. Hale's passing, the day of her death, Margaret took him to the station. It was he who was with her that night at Outwood Station, Mother." There was a moment of skepticism residing within Mrs. Thornton's eyes, but it was soon replaced with clear understanding.
"He is now back in Spain." Mr. Thornton continued. "So, no, she has no other family to speak of, certainly none here. She needs someone to talk to, and I like to think that it does her good to talk to me."
"You are a good man to do that for her, especially after all that she has put you through." Mrs. Thornton said. Despite the tender feelings that he still had, he must remember the past.
"Don't sing my praises too loud, mother. I'm afraid that I am not only doing it for her." Mr. Thornton picked up his silverware and began to eat his cooling dinner. Mrs. Thornton, who was a little shaken by her son's last statement, followed suit.
"Will she be leaving," she hesitated before adding, "soon?" Mr. Thornton's face fell, and his mother almost regretted asking the question.
"I'm not sure, but there is a lot of talk of it." He added silently she would be going nowhere if he could help it. He also thought much of Henry Lennox, who he was not able to rid from his mind since the first moment that he laid eyes on the man. Mr. Thornton stood to leave. He gave his mother a kiss, but was stopped by her hand on his arm.
"John, please be careful." He gave her a questioning look. "I am only saying that you should not put your heart out there again, especially if you know that she is leaving." He looked at his mother, pulling his lips tight for a moment.
"It is too late for that, I'm afraid. I love you mother."
