A/N: Thanks for reading! And I will try my best to write the wedding in for the next chapter.
Please review! Especially about Mr Thornton!
Enjoy!
Chapter 7: Red Roses
The next morning, Margaret awoke in her room at Crampton a little confused. She had forgotten that she was in Milton, but as soon as everything came to her she smiled. She walked over to her window and saw that the sun was beginning to rise. She would visit her mother's grave today. But first she had to answer her Aunt's letter.
Margaret sat at her desk and began to write her letter in reply. She told her Aunt not to worry that she would do anything foolish, because first of all, Margaret was a respectable young lady, and second, because she was sure that Mrs Hannah Thornton would never allow her to do anything imprudent. She told her that the wedding was set to be in two weeks, so if she wanted to, she and her cousin could arrive in Milton within a week. She was sorry to have caused her Aunt pain, but Margaret felt it would best that she speak with Mrs Hannah Thornton personally before the wedding. Margaret sent her best wishes to all of those in Harley Street, and again apologized for her sudden leave-taking.
Once Margaret finished with the letter, Mary had already prepared breakfast. She sealed up the letter and took her breakfast. She ate quickly, for she was hungrier than she had expected. All of the emotion and tension from yesterday had driven away her appetite last night, but now her appetite returned with a vengeance. Once she gave Mary the letter to take to the post office, she visited each room of the small living, thinking about everything that had come to pass in them in the short time that her family inhabited it.
She first visited the room behind the drawing-room, the room her mother had spent the last days of her life, where Margaret and Frederick had spent hours with their mother, knowing that the inevitable was soon to come. She stood in the middle of the empty room, her thoughts drifting to the sadness that had enveloped her whole family when her mother finally passed, and Mr Thornton's kindness to her mother while she was bedridden. She left the room before any tears could form in her eyes. She moved to her father's study, the shelf that remained was full of old business papers, nothing of her father though. She passed through each room, remembering all the good and bad they had witnessed.
Margaret finally made her way into the drawing-room that had once been covered with pink and blue roses and yellow leaves, and a heavy cornice when she first saw it, but all that had been removed when they first moved in. It was the very room in which Mr Thornton had first proposed to her, and in which she had treated his proposal as an insult. She remembered reproaching herself for rejecting him like that, especially after she had thought she saw tears in his eyes as he left. So many memories!
But all of those memories were just that, memories. She had reconciled herself to the fact that her parents were now in a better place, watching over her from above. And now she was engaged to Mr Thornton — yes, so many things had changed, some for the better she hoped.
Mary returned from the post office, a bit pink in the face from walking so fast to and fro. Margaret wanted to make it to the cemetery before there were too many people walking about the streets to see her. She made this known to Mary and set off at a quick pace, a small bouquet in her hands. She would call on Mr Thornton afterwards, even though he had promised that he would call.
As Margaret made her way through the streets, which were surprisingly crowded for the time of day, she could hear mutterings all about. At one point she even turned, for she was sure she had heard someone call her name. Margaret quickened her step so as to reach her destination sooner; she did not want to hear the inhabitants gossiping about her in her presence. She knew that her engagement to Mr Thornton was no longer a secret in Milton, especially after what Mary had told her last night.
Margaret reached the top of the hill where the cemetery was and found her mother's grave. She was surprised to see few weeds growing around it, for it had been over a year since she had last visited it, and the surrounding graves she could only describe as weed-infested. She removed an old bouquet that was drying, they were red roses, and replaced them with the bouquet that she had brought.
As Margaret was praying silently she held the dying roses in her hands. Her eyes were closed, but she immediately opened them when she heard some footsteps coming up behind her.
He spoke first, 'Margaret, I'm glad I found you up here.'
Margaret smiled, Mr Thornton could not be kept from her long, 'How did you find me?'
'Well, when I went to Crampton Mary told me where you were. I was unaware of how early a riser you are,' he said, coming up and taking the dying red roses from her hands and replacing them with a fresh bouquet of the same kind of red rose.
'Have you…?' Margaret said, looking at the roses in her hand. It made sense now.
'Yes, I have taken the liberty of keeping your mother's grave free of any unwanted growth, as well as bringing her a fresh bouquet every week or so,' Mr Thornton admitted.
'When, or rather why? I am sure my mother never did anything so that you would feel the need for such kindness — but not that the action isn't greatly appreciated,' Margaret said taking Mr Thornton's hand and smiling.
'I first started doing this when your father passed and you moved to London, I thought that I was doing a service to him. But I must confess, that subconsciously, I did it for you. I had not ceased to love you, even at the moments that I lost hope of ever seeing your beautiful face ever again. I was a man desperately in love, and I thought that the only way I could possibly express my emotions without offending you, was to show kindness to your mother. I cleared away unruly weeds and brought her, or rather you, roses,' Mr Thornton said, avoiding Margaret's eyes, for he did not want her to see the suffering he had lived through this past year that his eyes betrayed. He only wanted her to see the happiness that he now felt to know that she was to be his alone. Margaret loosened her grip on his hand and instead stroked his cheek, for she had not been truly aware of the pain he had endured. He enclosed her hand in his and kissed it. 'I love you, Margaret. I love you, and I don't want to be parted from you ever again.'
All Margaret could do was wrap her arms about his neck the way she had that fateful day when she protected him from the angry mob; luckily he could not see the deep blushes that invaded her face at hearing those words. He wrapped his arms about her waist and held her close; he did not want to let her go.
'I love you, John,' Margaret whispered into his ear. 'I am sorry for having been blinded by prejudice so that I did not see what a kind person you really are. Forgive me.'
They stood like this for a minute or two, basking in each other's proximity, until finally Mr Thornton released Margaret; he did not want to risk her reputation before their marriage. 'Have you told your mother the news?'
Margaret laughed her small sweet laugh, and she brought Mr Thornton over to her mother's grave. She closed her eyes, Mr Thornton intently watching her every move. Margaret was quiet for a few moments, but that was all the time she needed, for she had already told her parents of the news in other prayers. Now she prayed for herself, that she could love Mr Thornton the way he deserved to be loved, and she asked her mother for guidance. She opened her eyes and turned to face him. 'There, shall we go down now?'
Mr Thornton took her arm and together they walked into Milton, making their way towards Marlborough Mills.
Mrs Hannah Thornton had risen unusually early. She woke with a start, a nightmare she thought. But when she was taking her breakfast, she saw her son fixing his cravat, almost walking past her as he made his way out. He had greeted her warmly and told her that he was going to call on Miss Hale — so it wasn't a nightmare, her mind had simply tricked her. Her son was to marry Miss Hale.
Mrs Thornton sat working on the initials for the linen when she was called on by her own daughter, Mrs Watson. Fanny Watson came in, flustered by a bit of gossip she had heard from the mouths of her own servants.
'Mother! Mother, what is this rumor I hear?' Fanny said in the high-pitched voice she was wont to use when she wanted something urgent answered. 'Is John to marry Miss Margaret Hale, his landlord?'
'A rumor? Now where ever did you hear this?' Mrs Thornton said, shocked, she wasn't denying it, but she was sure that John had not made any announcement in Milton to inform his sister about his engagement. She was more concerned about the fact that her son's business was being publicized in this manner.
'So it's not true then? I am so relieved, truly, I despise the woman, coming into her fortune like that,' Fanny said, fanning herself with a new fan, one of the many gifts her husband indulged her with.
'I never said it wasn't true, Fanny. Who told you this?' Mrs Thornton said, a little irritated with her daughter's manner.
'One of the servants,' Fanny said, brushing off some invisible dirt off of her dress.
'A servant!' Mrs Thornton was not pleased, she did not like that her son's engagement was being circulated among even the lowest classes of their society.
'It's true? But, how? She's proud, and I don't think she ever showed a preference for my brother,' Fanny said, speaking her mind.
'You will respect any decision your brother makes, Miss Hale claims to return his affections, and they will be married in two weeks. The next time you come across Miss Hale, I expect you to show good breeding and behave kindly towards her; it is because of her that Marlborough Mills is to be saved,' Mrs Thornton could hardly believe her own words, she was defending Margaret against her own daughter. She remembered comparing the two when John had made his first proposal to Miss Hale, and she knew that if she really tried, there were some aspects of Miss Hale that she could like.
'I…' Fanny faltered, for Mr Thornton and Margaret walked in at that moment.
'Fanny!' Mr Thornton said, as he noticed her sitting next to his mother. He had not yet acquainted her the news of his engagement, or the fact that the mill was saved from closure. 'Miss Hale, I am sure you remember my sister, now known as Mrs Watson.'
'Yes, I do remember her. It's nice to meet you again, and congratulations on your marriage,' Margaret said, trying to be as pleasing as she could be. She had never truly liked Fanny, for she cared for no one but herself. Margaret believed that Fanny would do very well living in London, whiling away the time at dinner party after dinner party. Yes, Fanny could survive very well in that environment, and she had once expressed a wish of visiting London.
'Thank you, Miss Hale, and might I congratulate you on your engagement to my brother,' Fanny said, casting a quick glance at her mother, she could be polite if she tried.
'I see that mother has told you of my engagement to Miss Hale. And you must know as well that the mill will not be closing any longer, so you might tell Mr Watson that I will no longer be selling him any of the materials,' Mr Thornton said proudly, touching Margaret's hand slightly, it was because of her that his name would be restored in the manufacturing community.
'I will tell him,' Fanny said, hoping that she would remember, for she had no real interest in the business affairs of her husband.
'Shall I order us some tea?' Mrs Thornton said in her stately manner, she wanted to keep Fanny here as long as possible so that she would not be left in the company of her son and Miss Hale alone. She hoped that it would not be like this in the future.
Everyone acquiesced to the suggestion, and they all took seats around the small tea table. Mrs Thornton allowed the servants to pour tea, for she did not want to compete for that duty with Margaret just yet. Mr Thornton was tempted to have Margaret serve as his sugar-tongs, but he knew that now was not the moment. Everyone tried to participate in the conversation, but when it turned to the topic of the upcoming nuptials, Fanny tried to monopolize the conversation.
Fanny wanted to know where Margaret was to get her dress made, if she had her trousseau prepared, and all the small details to which Margaret had not yet looked into. Throughout the conversation Margaret gave Mr Thornton sidelong glances, as if to tell him that there was a lot to be done in preparation for their wedding.
