John cleared his throat uncomfortably and straightened his shirtsleeves under his coat before hesitantly knocking on the door of the Hale residence.

Dixon, with her usual cheery countenance he thought sarcastically, gave him a dour look as she ushered him in, taking his hat and gloves. There was a faint scent of fresh bread in the house, in addition to the dried lavender that seemed to be present in every room. Almost instantly, he began to relax in the familiar surroundings, giving Dixon a small smirk in response to her prickliness.

"The master and Mr. Bell are already in the parlor," she grumbled as she disappeared into another room with his things.

Instead of irritating him with her lack of courtesy, he felt amusement at her fierce and protective nature towards the Hale family. It was not a trait found in his own household and servants, but he admired the older woman's loyalty, especially to the women in the house.

He climbed the stairs briskly, his eyes following the faint glow that the lit parlor gave as he approached. All three individuals, including Miss Hale, stood as he entered and greeted him cheerfully.

Mr. Hale strode forward and offered his hand, "Why John, we were most pleased that you were able to join us tonight. It does my heart good to see you in better spirits."

John clasped Mr. Hale's hand firmly and turned to offer his to Mr. Bell, then finally to Miss Hale. She self-consciously offered her dainty hand to him with a blush, "This is a custom that I fear I still feel ill at ease with, Mr. Thornton."

Her hand was smooth and warm, and for a moment he toyed with the idea of planting a kiss on her fingers as a London gentleman might, but the voice of common sense reared its ugly head and he gently dropped her hand. Offering his customary side smile, "And I am still working on making myself more agreeable in mixed company, such a task does not come easily to me."

Mr. Bell guffawed as he watched the two young adults smile shyly at each other, "Do you find it a struggle with some individuals, Mr. Thornton?"

John gave him an exasperated glance, "Some may test my patience more than others."

Margaret flushed and directed her own gaze upon her godfather, "Indeed, Mr. Thornton, I sometimes find myself in a similar predicament."

Mr. Bell wrinkled his nose and sat down in his armchair, "Such censure from the young ones, I feel this is almost backwards, Richard. Whatever I have ever done to vex you all?"

There were several moments of silence where John looked at him incredulously, Margaret stifled a giggle, while Mr. Hale elected to diplomatically shuffle his books on the table.

Margaret turned to the tea tray and carefully prepared two cups for their guests, "I would say, sir, that you do not vex me as much as you enjoy teasing me."

Mr. Bell clasped a hand to his heart dramatically, "My dear, I have no children and I consider you to be a member of my own family, it is my moral obligation to tease you."

"I am not a member of your family," John said lightly, accepting his tea from Margaret with a private smile, "Yet you do not show restraint with me."

Mr. Bell waved a hand airily, "You are too much of an easy target to resist."

Mr. Hale opened his mouth in shock, "Adam, really, must you berate my pupil so?"

John rolled his eyes slightly and took a seat at the opposite end of the sofa, near Margaret, "Should I imagine you as an eccentric uncle then, Mr. Bell?"

Mr. Bell grinned widely, "You are a little rough around the edges, m'boy, but I accept the challenge of another young person under my tutelage."

Now Margaret blushed with mortification, "Mr. Bell!"

John cast a sideways look at Margaret, catching her eye to let her know that he was not offended, but offered a wry smile to Mr. Bell. "How kind."


It was one of his more interesting nights in the Hale household, he concluded as he opened up us personal desk in his bedroom. In his hands were the documents that Mr. Bell had given him earlier, the current assessment of the British market and the signed loan document that would stay in his private records, rather than the mill office.

Margaret had been spirited in her debates with Mr. Bell and her father, and more often than not, John left off of listening to the other two men to simply watch her as she spoke. Her hands had moved animatedly and her eyes sparkled as she engaged her godfather in a discussion of English social economics. At first flabbergasted that she possessed such knowledge, he noticed that the other two men seemed at ease with her choice of topic, and thus cautiously joined the conversation.

The topics that they discussed; housing, amenities, and cost of living; were only known to him in the context of the northern manufacturing towns. The seeming poverty of the area was sometimes at odds with the prideful nature of all its inhabitants. It was almost downright appalling for a Northern man to ask for or expect charity. You stood on your own two feet here, or not at all.

John has shifted in discomfort at first, but tried to keep a relatively open mind. They spoke not only of southern rural towns, but of the sections of London that desperately needed to be updated. Mr. Bell had brought up the plans that the Prince Consort, Albert, had made public with the permission of the Queen. By building safer dwellings that were made of quality materials, it was possible for the inhabitants to have a higher quality of living.

He had countered the argument by pointing out that rapidly developing areas do not always have ready access to such materials, and the need for space often outstrips the need for quality.

Margaret had narrowed her eyes for a moment, but good naturedly parried back that regulations put into law would force builders to construct better. He conceded the point, but privately wondered if the housing in Milton was in a similar situation. Not having been invited into his workers' homes, he could not say with clarity what their living conditions were like, but he knew the price of coal in a hard winter. And the cost of fresh food shipped in from the warmer south. He did not think he could ever permanently forget the feeling of going hungry.

All were things that merited further consideration later, but for now, he pulled a fresh sheet of parchment from his desk and began to compose a letter to his bankers with a wince. Just because he had the money now and the solid advice did not mean that it still did not grate to be throwing money at a scheme. Mr. Bell had reassured him that a certificate of deposit was a relatively safe way to let a decent chunk of money accumulate interest as it sat in the bank.

The next venture he would consider, was the rapidly growing south American countries that most of Mr. Bell's money had been derived from. Everything from vineyards, maize, corn, and orchards required financial banking. And the high demand from neighboring countries almost guaranteed a good return on an investment.

John sighed as she sealed the envelopes and placed them aside to be put in tomorrow's post.

Despite Mr. Bell's assurances, he still worried about how the loan would impact his pursuit of Margaret. He sat down on his bed heavily and lay back still fully clothed, his eyes closing wearily as he slipped into pleasant dreams of a Southern lass.