AN: So first I would like to thank all my readers. Yes, even you, ghost reader who makes my traffic graph happy :) I present another chapter. I want John and Margaret's relationship to work like one would in real life, so I'm holding off kids for the moment, though there may be hints now and then—but keep hope! I have a plan! (kinda maybe sort-of!) Also, I'm going to fix one of the chapters where I mention whats-his-face as William, but he's really Henry Lennox, lol. My mistake. You can see how much I liked him...
Margaret rolled over in bed and spied her husband, nose pressed into the covers, passed out from the night before. She smiled to think that her serious, taciturn husband had given over to the vices so easily, but, she reasoned, even important men like him could not be so noble all the time.
She sat up, feeling a little dizzy, but not overly so, and crept out of bed to fix herself up. She combed her hair and brushed her teeth, thinking that she would change and wait for him to awake. Picking a pretty crimson day dress, she did her own stays and slid on her slippers, almost laughing when she imagined Fred in the same state as her husband. From where she was standing John's face was pale and his hair was a mess atop his handsome head. He would not be feeling well, but, from his cynical wife's prospective, it had been worth it, for her at least. She had come to know another habit of John's, and in that she felt some small accomplishment.
With this thought, she made her way to the kitchen, where servants had already set out a fine spread of cheese, fruit, breads and eggs. Dolores was already sitting down with a plate on her lap balanced on her knee, and a book in her hand. Dressed in fine stripped crinoline she looked lovely, and as she heard Margaret enter, she broke into a radiant smile and placed the book down beside her plate.
"Oh Margaret," she said, "Come. Eat."
"Should we not wait for our husbands?" Margaret's brow furrowed. She had never eaten without John, and was not sure of the protocol.
"No, no," Dolores shook her head, "Fred, he said we should if we want. Let them sleep."
"Oh, alright," Margaret's stomach growled rather insistently, and, attempting ladylike poise, began to pick away at the fruit and eggs, taking a hard boiled egg on toast for her main meal.
"Fred never does that," Dolores added as Margaret had a mouthful of toast. "He is always up, and never drinks."
"Nor does John," Margaret replied, thinking of their short marriage, "I think. I have not been married long."
"No," Dolores took a delicate nip of her watermelon, "I will be sad when you go. Fred loves you."
"And I love him," Margaret sighed, "but we will be back soon. It won't be forever."
"You should come when mi Rosa is big," Dolores's eyes lit up, "Come when she has communion!"
"Communion?" Margaret frowned.
"Yes, that's what you call, right?"
"Indeed, if you are Catholic," Margaret replied, "but we are protestants."
"I am Catolic," Dolores replied, "we raise Rosa Catolic."
Margaret's eyebrows rose, but she did not reply. She could just hear her dear father scolding her for letting Fred go astray.
"Well," Margaret smoothed her disapproval, "then we will come for Rosa's communion." Dolores flashed one of her radiant smiles and finished her plate. She stood when Fred entered the dining room, went to him, and kissed him, unaware of his sick appearance.
Fred's face was a little green, his light hair barely tamed, and his trousers loosely clipped with brass suspenders. His collar was turned up in spots where he had tried, and failed, to fold it, but otherwise looked wonderfully cheery.
"Hello wife, sister," he addressed the women, "I'm sorry I'm late, I had to take a long bath."
"It didn't help, I see," Margaret contradicted with a grin. "I hope John will fare better."
Fred snorted and took a big slice of cheese from the table.
"Don't think so," he said through a mouthful of Gouda, "I think he drank more than me."
Fred took a seat by Dolores's abandoned chair, and a moment later John appeared, looking stately and handsome as ever, no evidence of his ordeal, other than a slightly paler face, to mark his heroic adventure.
"Margaret," he greeted her with a kiss, "You look well this morning."
"How do you feel?" she whispered to him.
"Like Hell, my dear," he flashed her a look. They both smiled, and he took a large plateful of assorted things from the table, taking particular interest in the toast and yogurt that sat out in a crystal dish.
He too sat beside his wife, and, stately as he dared, endured to devour his portion. Once this was done, he and Margaret went out on the terrace, where they leaned against the railing and gazed out upon the sea.
"That feels better," he said, closing his eyes against the balmy breeze. "Perfect."
When he opened his eyes, he caught his wife glancing at him with a quizzical expression."Yes, love?" he asked, regarding her with a little lift of the eyebrow.
"Its wonderful to see you relax," she mentioned, taking his hand in hers, "I will be sad to leave, for I have learned so much these weeks."
"Aye," he replied, lifting her hand to his lips, "but when we get home we can settle down for a couple of weeks. I cannot leave my work forever."
The mention of his work dampened her spirits, thinking of that cottony, white mill, and a thought came to her head.
"John," she cocked her head, "if we have a family, can we keep a place in the south, Helstone mayhaps? For family?"
John considered it for a moment, then, deciding, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
"Near your old home, or further into the country?"
Margaret, pleased, cried out in delight, and rewarded her husband with a tight hug around the waist, her hand still in his.
"It will be wonderful," she beamed, "a place for the summer to escape."
"Mm," John looked back to the sea, a speculative expression on his face. "Now you've mentioned that, Maggie, I wanted to ask your opinion on something." Margaret looked at him expectantly.
"I have an idea for business, but it may be risky," he continued, "I wish to start another mill, and work with more cotton manufacturers in the Americas. There is a man in Chicago who wishes to meet with me, but I would have to be away again. I don't want to leave you in Milton with my mother and sister, and was wondering, would you come with me again? If this venture works, we could expand our enterprise, and make Marlborough Mills a household name. People use cotton there, in America, and they are beginning to rely on it more and more since the fabrics are durable and soft."
"That sounds wonderful!" Margaret replied, "and of course I would come to Chicago with you! I heard it is a fabulous city."
"I have heard the same," John looked pleased. "I have to say, though, that we would not have much time home before we would have to leave again." Margaret loved the way that "home" rolled off his tongue so easily and sounded so right, so perfect, in her ears.
"I don't mind," Margaret shook her glossy head, "if we must go, then we will. I am sure Nicholas can handle everything until we are home. Perhaps we can hire more help to run the finances and the shipping sector?"
"I was thinking of your friend Henry Lennox, actually," John seemed oblivious to Margaret's discomfort, "I mean, he is a brilliant businessman, and, I recall, a good friend of yours from the Helston days."
Unable to contradict him, Margaret pursed her lips and nodded. Henry would do just fine.
Just then Fred scared them both by putting his hands down suddenly on their shoulders.
"Hey you two," he chuckled at their surprise, "Dolly thinks we should spend the day at the beach. If you agree, get your things, and we will take the carriage to a point we are rather fond of."
Both Margaret and John agreed, and, with the proper bathing costume arrangements made, went back into the house to gather supplies.
AN: So what do you think about the house in Helston? The business proposition from the man in America? Henry working with John?! I have an idea for the future, but they are just in the honeymoon stage. I am planning for things to get a lot more real very fast. But not that fast...I still want some more lovey stuff before I mess with—ah, change their circumstances. Read & Review for more!
