I would like to thank my wonderful friends Ana and Val who have been an amazing sounding board. When I wrote chapter 1, I thought that this would be a little 3 chapter ficlet, who knew! I should have the next chapter up much quicker than this one appeared. Comments are encouraged, welcomed, and cherished; as are all of you who read.
When Mr. Thornton arrived home from Crampton, he went straight to his office and collected his latest ledger before securing the mill and returning to his bed chamber. His mother had already retired for the night, but he saw many more hours of work before him this evening before he could do the same. He sat at the table in his sitting area and poured himself into his paperwork. He worked with a fresh determination, if there was any way to bring himself out of their current financial situation, he would find it.
After several hours, he finally closed the ledger. Though he was no closer to a solution, he could breathe easily knowing that payroll was safe, and he had enough in his personal accounts to pay off his debts if it came to that. He tried not to think about the looming possibility of closing the mill; he had months before he would need to consider that as an option. Since the strike, this had been a fear that resided somewhere in the back of his mind. Holding the bridge of his nose, he decided to put business away for the next three or four hours before a new day would bring further challenges his direction.
Before climbing into bed, he walked over to the small bookcase that was housed in a corner of his room. He lightly ran his fingers over the spines until he spotted the cover that he had sought. He pulled out his personal bible from the bookshelf, not remembering the last time that this book had been in his hands. He brought it to bed with him, not so much to read as it was to absorb himself in the memory of the conversation that he held earlier this evening. As he turned to the first passage, his eyes allowed the words blur into the vision of Margaret as a girl, her chin up in a proud gesture that was peculiarly her own. As he allowed her conversation to sink into him, he was hopefully and peacefully lulled into a quiet slumber.
Margaret awoke with a feeling of uneasiness about the way that she had left things with Mr. Thornton the night before. He had told her that he would give her time, and left no question in her mind that he still wanted her. These newfound feelings that she had discovered within herself had developing quickly, but she was worried that it may be happening too quickly. When he had proposed to her so many months ago, she was certain that she could never wish for a life with a man such as him. She had seen him as arrogant and prideful, with little regard for his fellow man. The thought of him ruling over her as a husband was not a fate that she could ever fathom resigning herself to.
In these four short days, her opinion of him had drastically changed. If she knew that she would be with the man that she had spent the last two evenings with, she would go to him this very minute and tell him that she has been a fool, and that she would do anything to earn the love that he has offered to her for so long. However, her hesitation was great. Her previous negative opinion of him raised far too much concern to consider anything as serious as marriage just yet. How could she possibly accept such an offer, if such an offer were to be made once more, based upon a very small handful of conversations?
She would like to discuss this with him. Though she was certain that it was not at all an appropriate conversation for a young woman to hold, Margaret was fairly certain that he would be willing to discuss anything with her. He was not driven by propriety, and certainly did not hold his tongue in her presence because of some preordained social expectation. She knew that he cared for her and she should feel free to voice her concerns. She would speak of it, and she would do so this evening.
Dixon walked into her room to assist her in her dress as she did every morning. Margaret was upset with the family servant, yes, she had been in the Hale home for longer than herself, but that did not give Dixon a right to govern her actions.
"Should we be expecting a visit from anyone today?" The inflection that Dixon placed upon the word 'anyone' made it obvious to Margaret that she was not inquiring about just anyone.
"Dixon, you must stop treating Mr. Thornton as you have this past week." Margaret said with conviction. "He has been a true friend to us—to me, when I have needed one the most."
"I am only watching out for your best interests Miss Margaret. He had no business coming here so late last night." Dixon remarked.
Margaret turned to face her, a look of indignant disbelief consuming her. "You have been watching out for your own interests, not mine. When Mr. Thornton took lessons with Father he came every bit as late as he did last night."
"With all due respect, Miss Margaret, you are not your father. You are an eligible young lady, and he is an unmarried man. You should not be up with him at all hours unchaperoned." She paused for a moment while pulling the strings on Margaret's corset just a little tighter. "More than that, I am not certain that his only interest in you is friendship." Dixon said, an air of self righteousness about her.
"Dixon, need I remind you that you are still a servant in this house? You have done a fine job chaperoning me, I would say." Margaret's tone was harsh , she pulled her head back and continued. "Have you witnessed me overstepping the bounds of propriety in any way? Have I done something that you feel to be inappropriate? You have no business dictating my visitors, nor their interests. I will not tolerate any further ill will toward Mr. Thornton." Margaret was proud that she found the strength to tell Dixon exactly what she felt.
"I do understand my place, I am just saying that it will serve you well to-"
Dixon was quickly cut short by Margaret. "No! I need you, and everyone else to stop telling me where I belong and what I should do. I deserve some control over my life, and I am choosing to take it."
"But Miss Margaret, not with some tradesman in Milton." Dixon sounded as though there could be no worse fate in all of the world. She felt that it was her duty to guide Margaret now that her mother had passed. Perhaps if she had been able to persuade Miss Maria Beresford not to go and fall for a poor country clergyman, none of this would have ever been placed upon them.
"Dixon, Mr. Thornton is a highly respected manufacturer, he is the Master of one of the finest mills in Milton. He is a very good man, in fact, he is one of whom you yourself have often spoken highly of in the past." Margaret paused for a moment as if considering her words. "He also cares for me, and has done much for myself and my family, expecting nothing in return."
"It seems to me that he might be expecting something in return." Dixon sighed. "I understand that you need to marry comfortably. Just let us get back to London and I am sure that your aunt and Miss Edith will be happy to help you." Dixon all but pleaded.
"I would never marry for money." Margaret spoke calmly and plainly. Dixon did not reply to her comment, though she wanted to tell her mistress that marrying for love certainly did not make her mother happy, that love fades and that it is important to see what you will be left with once it does.
"But we were all so happy in London. When your mother was but a young lady, we enjoyed the balls and society. There was always an occasion to dress and we were always surrounded by such pleasant people." Dixon had a gleam in her eye as she remembered the former glory of her position. "When she married your father, we were moved to Helstone, and the Mistress never attended another ball. Her happiness quickly faded into loneliness out in the vast countryside in Helstone." Her features darkened. "Then your father dragged us to this dreadful place, and your mother lost all hope." Dixon sighed. "I only wish for you to see your options, options that your mother lost in her marriage."
Margaret felt her heart crush as she heard Dixon's words. She remembered her father admitting that he knew what it was like to disappoint one's family. At the time she wrote it off as nonsense, but knew in her heart that it was not. Her mother sorely resented her father. It was true that they had married for love, but their relationship was not one of openness and understanding. Every serious topic was covered in euphemism in the Hale home. Confrontation was easily traded for pleasant surface talk especially between her parents. Margaret could easily say that the first time that she had felt true openness, a true sense of sharing herself, was in the carriage on the way to her father's funeral.
"Dixon, I liked living in London as well, but I was living someone else's life there. When I left mother and father in Helstone, I cried every night for months. Somehow, after time I grew accustomed to London, but it never truly felt like home. I lived in Edith's shadow. There were always balls and social outings, but I never enjoyed them. When I left London for good, I was shocked that the same feeling of trepidation was present upon returning to Helstone. I felt like a visitor in both of my homes." Margaret tried to convey her sincerity. "I hated it here at first, just as you and mother did. We knew no one, the people were so different. But, with mother and father, this became, and still is home. A home that we all made together.
"I am begging you Dixon, stop alluding to London with every passing breath." This was the closest thing to an order that Margaret had ever issued to Dixon. "I would also like for you to refrain from packing until we know more. Too much has changed in too little time."
Dixon agreed. "I will if you wish, but you must understand that no matter what happens, we will not remain in this house." With that, Dixon left Margaret alone in her room. Margaret went to her little wooden desk and pulled out a piece of paper and her ink well. She addressed her correspondence to Mr. Bell. No one had offered particulars on her financial and living situations, and she wished to know just how long she could afford to remain in the Crampton house with Dixon. After sealing the envelope, she dropped it upon her bed and decided to post it tomorrow morning. Mr. Thornton was right, she had a choice, and perhaps this letter would allow her to chose independence.
Mrs. Thornton was seated at the breakfast table before John had made it downstairs. This was an odd occurrence, as he was always the first one up in their home. There was a lightness in his step, and a softening to his features that she did could not recall seeing before. She was certain that Miss Hale was the reason for the newfound levity, and the thought of his happiness being dashed once more by that woman caused her heart to sink. Before she wished her son a good morning, she said a silent prayer. Mrs. Thornton asked that her son be spared of heartache. She promised that if what he wished for came to fruition, she would try to treat Miss Hale as a daughter. If only she would love her son as he deserved, Mrs. Thornton swore that she would do everything in her power to love the girl in return. She began to close her prayer, when she hastily added one final request. She asked that if this girl would not have her son, that she would leave Milton, and that she would do it soon.
"Good morning, Mother." John said as he took his seat.
"Good morning, John. You seem to be in quite a pleasant mood this morning, are things going well at the mill?" Mrs. Thornton asked, assuming that this change in disposition had little to do with the mill.
"Everything is the same at the mill, but I am working hard to change it." He added nothing more to the conversation, and appeared to his mother to be lost in thought. They had almost finished breakfast, when she attempted to pick the conversation back up.
"Was Miss Hale feeling any better last night?" She finally asked. John thought about his mother's question. He would like to think that she was doing better. He was happier than he could ever remember feeling, and that was based solely on a possibility. He could not imagine what he would feel if her possibly were to ever became a definitely, but he hoped that he would know one day.
"She is better. I think that she is having difficulty with the possibility of leaving." He paused for a moment, "I think that I am having a little bit of difficulty with it as well." He and his mother never spoke to one another simply to speak. He knew that he could confide anything in her, but they did not converse unless there was something important to be said, often leaving their home very quiet. Their candor, however, was nothing like that which had recently been shared with Miss Hale. He had found the same quality in her father, and it was incredibly refreshing. They could speak to one another for hours on end and never become bored, never find a lack of topics to explore or debate.
He had found something beautiful in simply talking to enjoy the company of another person. He wondered what it would be like to have every evening filled with her wonderful stories or sharing the events of their day. He wondered what it would be like to have his love reciprocated. Last night was the first time that he felt that it was at all possible.
Mrs. Thornton wanted to know if he would ask her to stay, if he would extend the offer of marriage once more. She wanted to ask if Miss Hale's feelings had changed. Mrs. Thornton's position differed greatly from the last time that she had considered the possibility of John marrying Margaret.
"John, Is there any way that you-" she stopped herself, knowing the result when she had offered him encouragement the last time that a similar situation was upon them. "Will you visit Crampton this evening?"
"Yes, Mother. I will visit Miss Hale as often as I am able. Now I need to go to work. I will be in the office most of the day." He walked to the door. "I will come in before leaving for Crampton, but am afraid that I will not have an opportunity to return before then." Mr. Thornton was determined to spend the majority of his work day as he had the previous evening, and on his way up to his office he warned his overseer not to disturb him.
He slung his coat over the back of his chair and took a seat at his desk. He threw himself into his task at hand with a determination that he had not possessed until the previous night. Even the sad state of his finances could not upset Mr. Thornton on this day. Margaret had finally allowed him hope.
Margaret found herself lulled from a dream by a distantly familiar voice. As her overly sleepy lids began to rise and the harsh light made its unfriendly intrusion into her eyes, Margaret thought that she could make out the figure of her Aunt Shaw standing before her in her father's study. Attempting to rub the fog away, Margaret focused on the stately woman standing before her, and found that it was indeed her aunt.
"Good Afternoon Aunt Shaw, I certainly did not expect you so soon." Margaret said as she stood to receive an embrace from the first family that she had seen since her father's departure to Oxford.
"Oh, Margaret, my dear, how are you? I have come to take you home with me immediately." Mrs. Shaw said with an air of a heroine. Dixon stood behind her with her arms crossed and a smile upon her face.
"Immediately, Aunt Shaw?" Margaret's heart sank.
"Of course, there is certainly no reason to stay in this dreadful place. Dixon will stay for a few weeks and pack. Everything must be sold." Aunt Shaw said, Margaret watched Dixon's smile fade. "If we leave now, we will be in home in time for dinner."
"We cannot sell all of Father's books." Margaret felt her heart racing. "And we cannot leave today, I must say goodbye to my friends."
"I do not know how many friends you could possibly have made here." She said with a huff. "I will come with you to say your goodbyes and then we will be on our way." Aunt Shaw proclaimed. Margaret readied herself to go, her entire body numb from the news.
Once dressed for a day of traveling, Margaret looked down at the letter that she had written to Mr. Bell, and said in a resigned tone, "I suppose that there is no point in sending you now, is there?" She descended the stairs and overheard the tail end of a conversation between Dixon and her aunt.
"…planning on coming until next week, however when Henry arrived home, he urged me to collect Margaret as quickly as possible." Margaret leaned her head against the wall for a moment as the remainder of the conversation washed over her. She despised being treated as though she were a child, or an item that could simply be 'collected.' She finally pulled herself together and met her aunt. When they were about to walk out of the door, Margaret quickly ran back to her father's study and found the first book that Mr. Thornton had studied with her father. Once she had it in hand, the two ladies walked silently to the carriage. Disbelief consumed Margaret as she travelled to bid farewell to Mr. Thornton.
"Aunt Shaw, I do not wish to return to London so quickly, could I not stay with Dixon until the auction?" Margaret asked as the horses began on their short journey to Marlborough Mills.
"That would be impossible. As your guardian, I must act in your best interest. Your mother would not approve of my leaving you here alone." Mrs. Shaw replied, her eyes not shifting from the window.
"I would have Dixon." Margaret began, then with her voice almost too quiet to make out the words, she continued, "this is my home. I wish to stay."
There was a long silence in which Margaret hoped that her aunt was considering her plea. Mrs. Shaw turned to face her young niece. "This does not have anything to do with the manufacturer that Henry has spoken of, does it?" Margaret had to keep herself from gasping, wondering what in the world Henry could have told her aunt about Mr. Thornton.
"It does." Margaret pulled her head back.
"You do not have an understanding with him, do you?" Aunt Shaw said. Margaret could feel her scrutinizing stare.
Margaret shook her head. "Not yet. But Aunt Shaw-"
Her aunt began before Margaret could continue. "Good, you need to come home and allow yourself time to mourn before we all help you to make these important decisions." Mrs. Shaw made an effort to calm herself by changing the subject. "Edith cannot wait for Sholto to meet you. He is a dear baby, handsome like his parents." Margaret attempted a smile, and remained disengaged throughout the remainder of the conversation, which consisted of the people of London, the weather of London and of course Henry Lennox of London.
Margaret had never been so relieved for a carriage ride to end as she had when they rode through the great green gates into the mill yard. As Margaret departed the carriage her eyes were immediately drawn to the window that she now knew to be Mr. Thornton's office. Every bit of nerve that she had disappeared, she did not know how she was going to do this.
