A/N: Sorry that this one's a bit short. I promise chapter eleven will be longer than usual to make up for it. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, and thank you to those who reviewed anonymously: ys1966, Annaflower, Chris01, toffeema, Sadi, Rosdal, Vingamania and anonymous – I really appreciate that you all took the time to review!

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Chapter Ten – Men

Mr. Thornton gathered together a copy of the accounts for the month and put them in an envelope, sighing. No good news to send to Mr. Bell this month either – things were undeniably getting worse. Productivity was still reduced, and what cotton he did sell seemed to take his debtors far too long to pay him. The supply of ready money was diminished just as he needed it, and all his capital was locked up in the new machinery which had seemed like such a good investment at the time.

He jumped slightly as the horn signalling the end of the day's shift blew and then he moved to the window to watch his multitude of workers flow out, chattering loudly and, amazingly, cheerfully – all too unaware of the very real possibility of their all being out of work in a few months. He watched as they all turned for home, all of them... except for one. He discerned the fair head of little Tom Boucher, one of the children Nicholas Higgins had adopted, engrossed in a book.

He watched the boy for several minutes, then surveyed the yard worriedly. Where was Higgins? His gaze returned to the boy in time to see him shiver as an icy wind blew through the yard. Suddenly he felt guilty: here he was in his snug, well-heated office while that boy...

Making up his mind, he strode out of the door and walked briskly into the yard.

That was how, as he went up there in a state of worry for the missing child, hoping to find some information, Nicholas Higgins found the two in the master's office, Tom reading aloud and Thornton prompting him every time he faltered. 'A-ni-mal,' Thornton was saying slowly, sounding out the syllables.

As Nicholas entered the room, Thornton looked up at the sound, and the relaxed, almost friendly expression on the normally stern master's face caught him off-guard. Nicholas had nothing to fear however, because as Thornton stood up and folded his arms across his chest, his familiar stern 'master' expression was back. 'Why are you so late? Shift finished an hour ago.' He narrowed his eyes, and Nicholas had to suppress his smile at the suspicion that seemed almost forced. 'What are you upto?'

'Just stayed to finish off the bale I was working on,' he said lightly.

Thornton sighed heavily, running a hand over his eyes. 'I can't pay you over your time, you know,' he said, and he sounded tired.

Nicholas shrugged. 'I reckon I'm not the only one working over my time,' he said, glancing meaningfully at the paperwork strewn over the desk and the still-open ink bottle.

Thornton sat down again, gesturing vaguely that Nicholas should take a seat also, which he did. 'It has to be done,' Thornton said wearily. 'The mill must overcome the difficulties of the market. It has to.' Then he added, so softly that Nicholas had to lean forward a little to hear it, 'The mill is everything.'

'To me too,' he admitted quietly. Thornton looked at him sharply then, something of scepticism in his face. Nicholas felt the need to clarify. 'The lives of my children depend on the success of the mill – it's not like I'd get work anywhere else in town,' he added, with less bitterness than would have been in his voice only a few short weeks ago; now he was just stating a fact.

Thornton nodded, apparently satisfied at his reason. 'It must be difficult to be responsible for so many people,' he said, nodding towards young Tom.

Nicholas snorted. 'Think of yourself,' he said, 'you could say we all depend on you.' Then he grinned. 'No pressure.'

Thornton smiled in spite of himself. Contrary to all expectations, it seemed he and Nicholas Higgins would get along quite well together.

'So he said that you might be able to establish a dining hall for the workers?' Margaret asked eagerly, eyes shining. 'That was very good of him,' she added quietly, almost to herself.

Nicholas tried not to smile. For the past half hour they had been talking of nothing but Mr. Thornton, mainly because of Margaret's constant stream of questions. He had been at first grimly cynical at the thought that a marriage between the ruthlessly ambitious master and the compassionate, idealistic girl could work, especially with no love apparent on either side, and had wondered at Mr. Hale's recklessness. But now he had to concede that the old man had either known what he was doing, or else had made a very lucky mistake, because the glow which came over Margaret's face whenever she spoke of her husband was the same which was evident in that man's countenance whenever her name was mentioned. And it seemed, Thornton was not quite the old bulldog he'd once thought him; in fact, Nicholas would go so far as to say that there was probably no other man in Milton more worthy of Margaret's hand.

'I don't know what to make of him,' he admitted aloud. 'He actually seemed interested in what I had to say, and although I can't say as I agree with everything he thinks about unions and knobsticks, I can say this – he's not an ordinary master.' Coming from Nicholas, this was a compliment of epic proportions.

Margaret's lips quirked upwards for an instant before she adopted a serious face. 'Careful, Nicholas,' she said, her tone matching her expression to perfection. 'Don't let the union hear you say that.'

Nicholas rolled his eyes, smiling. It was good to see this side of Margaret again; he hadn't known her to smile and tease like this since before Bessy's death, God rest her soul. 'I've looked over the old outhouse,' he said, 'and I reckon we could fit it up to be a proper place to dine – all it needs is a little cleaning up, and a few benches and a bit of a kitchen installed.'

Eyes lighting up at the prospect of a project, Margaret immediately spoke her mind. 'I'm helping,' she said firmly.

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. 'Maybe yo' should ask Thornton first,' he suggested. After all, it was not normal for master's wives to be joining in with the workers' labour. But then again it was far from normal for them to visit and make friends with the aforementioned workers as well.

Margaret shook her head and smiled. 'It's my way of showing support for his venture. He'll understand.' The confidence with which she said this offered Nicholas yet another proof that Margaret and Thornton were a couple uncommon in their perfect trust in one another. He had never seen, he reflected, a couple between whom such a pure and true understanding existed.