A/N: Thank you to elwren75 for beta-reading, and thanks to everyone for reviewing! I'm glad you seem to like my blatant and shameless Austen-referencing, because there's more to come.
We are nearing the end of this story now – after this one there are only two chapters to go. I really hope it will live up to your expectations.
Anyway – please tell me what you think of this chapter!
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Part Twenty-One – A Blade Among Rose Leaves
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The next day at work John's mind was buzzing with the conversation he had had with his mother the previous night. He had determined that he would go to see Margaret today, after work. He would stop by at home and collect the divorce papers, in case that was what she wanted. This way he could get all the paperwork out of the way then and there, and would not have to meet up again for that purpose. He didn't think he would be able to bear it if that happened though – even at the possibility the whole of his life seemed to stretch out before him, lonely and withered up.
His rather depressing turn of thoughts was interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing, and for that he was grateful. He picked it up. 'Hello?'
'Hi, is this John Thornton?' The female voice on the other end was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.
He frowned slightly. 'Speaking. Who is this?'
'It's Edith – I called to let you know–'
His blood turned to ice. 'What is it? Has something happened? Is Margaret alright?'
She laughed incredulously. 'Oh, so now you care? For your information, she's not alright. She hasn't been alright for the past three months. Don't ask me why, but for some reason you seem to be necessary for her happiness.'
His heart began to race. 'She's unhappy... because of me? Did she tell you that?'
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, and he could sense her hesitation as she debated with herself over how much she could reveal. Finally she began to speak again. 'Look,' she said somewhat brusquely, 'that's not my business. And I know it's not my business to be telling you what to do either, but frankly, I don't care. I care about Margaret, and I think she cares about you. So if you care for her even a little bit, you should meet up with her, talk to her – at least let her know what the story is between the two of you.'
All of this was spoken vehemently and at top-speed, and it took John a moment to process it. 'I will talk to her, Edith,' he said quietly. 'Thank you for letting me know.'
There was a sigh on the other end of the line, and when Edith spoke, her voice was softer. 'I hope you guys can work things out,' she said, and then she hung up.
So do I, Edith, he thought. So do I.
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