The next day Thornton threw himself into work. He needed to forget, to wipe his mind clean of all the confusion and pain and work, as always, was the best solution. There were a myriad of details that the reopening of the second mill involved and for a few blessed hours, he was able to forget everything.

Thornton had a meeting with a few suppliers and as he stepped out of the mill, Nicholas, who had been waiting outside the gate since morning, approached him.

"I want to speak to yo', sir."

"Can't stop now," Thornton said as he continued walking.

Before Nicholas had a chance to respond, Thornton was already halfway down the street. Sighing, Nicholas leaned back against the wall and continued waiting for him.

Thornton returned two hours later.

"You are still here?" he asked surprised.

"Ay, sir. I need to speak to yo'."

"Come in then."

Nicholas followed Thornton into his office, where he stood near the door. He was somewhat surprised that Thornton agreed to speak with him.

"What do you want?" Thornton asked as he sat down in his chair.

"My name is Nicholas Higgins—"

Hearing his name, Thornton frowned. He had heard about Higgins but had never met him.

"I know who you are," he said. "What do you want?"

"I want work."

"Work?" Thornton leaned back in his chair. "You got a nerve coming here asking for work."

Nicholas' own temper was more than a little roused by Thornton's manner.

"I'm a good hand and a steady man. You can ask Watson and he will tell yo'."

"I am not sure I will like all of what Watson will have to say about you. I had to turn out some of my best workers for following you and your Union. And you think I should take you on?"

"I promise yo', I'll not speak a word against yo', if yo' did right by us. And I promise that when I see yo' acting unfair, I'd speak to yo' in private first and give you fair warning."

"The mill where you are asking for work had to be closed because of the strike that you and your men started. What fair warning did you give them? You will get no work here. You are wasting your time," with that Thornton went back to his ledger.

"I knew I was," Nicholas said, not ready to leave without a final word. "I would not ha' come to yo' but I were bid to come by a young lady who thought yo' had a kindness about yo'."

Thornton looked up sharply. He had no doubt that the young lady was Margaret. He knew about her friendship with Higgins and his family.

Nicholas shook his head. "But I'm not the first man to be misled by a woman."

The remark cut too close to his heart. "Tell her to mind her own business and stop wasting your time and mine!" Thornton snapped.

Nicholas turned on his heel and left. His opinion about the masters had been confirmed.

Thornton forced himself to continue working, refusing to let his mind go down the all too familiar path, but it was proving difficult. He had hoped to escape her by losing himself in work but she had invaded that space as well.

An hour later, Mr Bell found Thornton in his office, determinedly pouring over his books. Earlier in the day, Mr Bell had met Margaret. She had acted her usual self. She had gone back to fussing over him and had asked him to write to her as soon as he reached London. She also told him about the short express that Fred had sent from Liverpool—he had safely set sail to Spain. But she absolutely refused to talk about last night. She had shrugged it off with a smile—it was all very typical of her and Mr Bell was hardly surprised.

Mr Bell had been planning to pay Thornton a visit before he left for London but after last night, it became imperative that he did.

"You look dreadfully busy," Mr Bell remarked as he entered the office. "I came to bring over some final bit of paperwork. Pure formality, I assure you."

Mr Bell handed Thornton the papers to sign.

"It could have waited," Thornton said as he looked over the documents. They were nothing very important. He had been expecting Mr Bell's visit and didn't understand why he would use such a weak excuse.

"True, but I wanted to tidy things up for Margaret before I go," Mr Bell said.

"Where are you going?"

"London, to see my doctor. I will be required to spend some weeks there. I hope to return. But it's a chance I cannot take. Hence, the papers."

Thornton looked at the older man trying to determine if he was in jest.

"I am dying," Mr Bell said simply.

There was silence for a while.

"Does Margaret know?" Thornton asked.

Mr Bell smiled to himself that Thornton's first thought upon receiving the news—from the dying man, no less—had been about Margaret.

"She knows I am ill, but I don't think she realises just how ill. And I intend to keep it that way. She has worried about one old man long enough, I don't want her to worry about another."

"I am sorry," Thornton offered belatedly.

"Thank you," Mr Bell said cheerfully. "But don't be. Few men are as lucky as me to get to plan their exit."

Thornton signed the papers and handed them.

"I am happy that Margaret is secured. Although …" Mr Bell paused, "… there is one other thing that I would like to see settled before I go."

Thornton frowned at Mr Bell. "Shouldn't you be having this conversation with Margaret?"

"I could. But you see, since last night she doesn't seem to be in the mood for any conversation."

It was a direct hit. Thornton got up and stood at the window. "I still fail to see why you are having this conversation with me."

"Pray tell, who else am I supposed to be having this conversation with?"

Thornton turned around sharply, shocked that Mr Bell didn't know about Fred. Thornton had thought that Mr Bell would have known and that the purpose of today's visit was to either tell him about it or demand an explanation for upsetting Margaret yesterday night. But he had never imagined that Mr Bell would not know about the other man. Thornton did not know whether to be angry or appalled. Mr Bell had proved himself to be the most careless of guardians. He had no idea that Margaret had been going alone to Princeton in the evenings, it had been left to Thornton to put an end to that. He had sent Margaret alone to discuss a substantial investment, counting on Thornton to ensure that she came away with a beneficial agreement. And now he had no idea that his god-daughter, the girl whom his best friend had left to his charge, had been out unchaperoned late at night and her supposed guardian had absolutely no knowledge of it.

Thornton was about to tell him what he had seen at the station, but he found that he could not bring himself to reveal Margaret's indiscretion. He could not disgrace Margaret to her own godfather.

"Did you talk to Margaret before coming to me?" Thornton asked.

"I already told you she—"

"Then do not presume to talk about things you know nothing of," Thornton said with ill-concealed impatience.

"I believe I know everything that I need to know."

"Really? What do you know?" Thornton demanded.

Mr Bell was not the sort of man who got upset easily. Instead, he fixed Thornton with a frank, assessing look.

"I know the two of you are perfectly miserable right now and this time I am inclined to place the blame at your door."

Thornton drew back in fury. "Mr Bell, you forget yourself!"

"I do not. I am merely exercising the privilege that comes with age. I have never met a pair of more proud…" Mr Bell paused and shook his head. "You know, the two of you are too well-suited for your own good. You would rather die than admit—"

"You think that is what this is about? You think I am too proud to—" God! He suddenly wanted to laugh. That anyone would think that he was too proud admit his love to her. That he hadn't already laid his heart at her feet only to have it crushed. And fool that he was he had been ready to do it a second time.

Thornton took a deep breath. "Mr Bell, if you have no other papers you need me to sign, I am quite busy. Good day."

Thornton did not return to his seat but turned his back to Mr Bell and looked out of the window.

It was becoming clear to Mr Bell that the two had quarrelled rather badly about something. It was far more serious than he had thought. Whatever had happened between them had hurt Thornton just as much as it had hurt Margaret. But he doubted if he would be able to get either of them to tell him anything about it. Mr Bell sighed deeply, realising that there was only so much he could do for these two. Their pride made it impossible for anyone to help them.

Thornton was still at the window. He hadn't moved an inch from where he stood. Wearily, Mr Bell rose from his chair. But as he reached the door, he stopped. His conscience wouldn't allow him to leave without one final attempt. He turned to address Thornton.

"Hale and I, we talked about you two," Mr Bell said.

"Mr …" Thornton felt too exhausted to even muster affront.

"I know you care for Margaret. That's the first thing I knew about you," Mr Bell said kindly.

"I don't think there has ever been any doubt about that," Thornton said in a tired voice.

"Then you must not realise how fortunate you are. Not many girls would have done what Margaret did in choosing to stay in Milton and I hardly need to tell you why. Whatever quarrel… or differences the two of you have got into I urge you to not lose sight of that fact."

Thornton stood by the window for a long while, thinking about everything that Mr Bell had said. He desperately wanted to believe it—a part of him already did but another part of him kept reminding him of what he had seen. He found it hard to understand why Margaret would not tell Mr Bell about something so important. It was so unlike her, so out of character. Everything she had done in these last few days had been out of character. But there was an undeniable kernel of truth in what Mr Bell had said—she had stayed in Milton.

Thornton went down to the mill yard and found Williams.

"How long had that man Higgins waited to speak to me?" he asked.

"He was outside the gate before eight o'clock, sir. He'd been there ever since."

More than five hours, Thornton thought with reluctant admiration.

"Find out if he is any good," Thornton instructed before going back to his office.

Margaret had spent the days following the dinner party trying to hold on to some semblance of normalcy. She went about her usual routine but she couldn't plan enough work to occupy all the empty hours. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do or believe. Should she just go on as if nothing had happened? Had she squandered her second chance? Had she pushed his patience to the breaking point with her indecision? Should she have done something more, said something more? Or was it something else? The lack of any explanation was driving her mad. The last time he had treated her with indifference she had known exactly why but this time she couldn't even begin to guess. She could deal with his anger but not with this... this mask of bland politeness that distanced and discouraged far more than any angry silence could.

On Mary's evening off, Margaret would sometimes go with her to meet Nicolas. But this morning, Margaret found out that Mary had caught a bit of chill and it looked like it might develop into a full-blown fever. Margaret nursed her during the day but there was nothing much to do about it other than for the poor girl to simply sleep off the fever.

Not wanting to be alone with her thoughts, Margaret decided to visit Nicholas to tell him how Katie was doing. She found Nicholas busily engaged in making a penny spin for the amusement of some of the neighbour's little children. They were enjoying themselves and Margaret thought that the happy look was a good sign and perhaps, it meant that he had got a job at the mill.

After the children had gone home, she asked him about it. "Did you see Mr Thornton?"

The look on Nicholas' face changed instantly. "Ay!" he said. "I've seen and heard too much of him."

"He refused you, then?" Margaret asked with a sinking heart.

"To be sure. I knew he'd do it all along. Yo're a stranger and a foreigner. You aren't likely to know their ways."

"I am sorry I asked you to go," Margaret said. "Was he angry?"

"He weren't o'er-civil!" Nicholas said. Seeing the look on Margaret's face, he added, "Ne'er yo' fret, I'll find something to do. But I gave him as good as I got. I told him, I'd not that good opinion of him to come a second time asking for work, but yo'd advised me to come."

"You told him I sent you?" Margaret asked suddenly wishing Nicholas had not told Mr Thornton that he had gone upon her urging.

"Ay!"

"And he—?"

"Said I were to tell yo' to mind yo'r own business."

Margaret felt the words like a blow. She got up and starting rearranging the utensils on the kitchen table, giving herself something—anything—to do. She caught Nicholas looking at her curiously.

"You were right. He is not what I thought he was," she said quietly.

There was a slight noise behind her. Both Margaret and Nicholas turned around at the same moment. Thornton had just entered the house and was standing at the door.

Both Thornton and Margaret were so ill-prepared for this encounter that for a moment they could do nothing but stare at each other in utter surprise. It was Margaret who moved first. Without saying a word, she rushed past him and went out of the house.

Margaret felt as if her feet couldn't carry her away fast enough. She felt humiliated and angry. How had things come to this? That he would speak so dismissively about her to another person. She had wanted to understand what had gone wrong. She had hoped against all hope that she could try to fix whatever had gone wrong. But he was destroying every hope rather ruthlessly.

Thornton stepped out of Nicholas' house a few minutes later. This morning, Williams had given him a satisfactory report about Higgins. Higgins was a good, experienced worker as he had claimed and Thornton needed good workers. The matter had been settled quickly between the two of them.

But seeing Margaret so unexpectedly today had caught him unprepared. His conversation with Mr Bell had once again stirred up all the confusion that he had been struggling with. To know that he wasn't alone in thinking that Margaret had come to care to him was reassuring and terrifying in ways that he was unwilling to admit. But it was not pride that held him back, but fear. Fear that Margaret would confirm everything that he had seen at the station that night. It was a paralysing thought but it was something he couldn't avoid. Both hope and doubt were dangerous to the soul. He had lived for so long with one, he didn't think he could bear to live with the other as well.

As he walked back, he was also uncomfortably aware of the words he had spoken to Nicholas about Margaret. He wished he had been able to keep a civil tongue in his head yesterday. Thornton walked quickly, thoroughly annoyed with himself. It wasn't long before he saw Margaret walking ahead of him.

And she was alone.

It was nearly dark and she had come to Princeton alone.

He walked up to her. "Why is your maid not with you?" he asked.

Margaret started at finding him beside her, but she recovered immediately. She could not believe that it mattered to him anymore what she did.

"I fail to see how that is anyone's business but my own," Margaret replied as she continued walking.

"You are—" Thornton bit back the rest of it. He had very nearly said that she was his business.

Margaret felt rather than saw his anger. And for once, she didn't care how angry he was and she didn't care if he thought she was being reckless or heedless of her safety.

Thornton walked by her side, refusing to allow her to walk alone, refusing to let his temper get the better of him. She was right, of course. After telling her to mind her own business, he had no right to ask where or what she was doing. Except, it would never be as simple as that. She would always be his business but he could see why she would not see it that way.

As they heading towards Crampton, the silence stretched on between them and Thornton let it. While he knew that he would have to speak with her, he also saw that now was neither the time nor the place to broach such a matter. He knew he ought to apologise for the way he spoke about her to Higgins but an apology would require an explanation and it was not something he wanted to discuss with her on a street.

They continued walking, looking for all the world as if they were walking together—silent but together. But nothing could be further from the truth. Margaret wished she could tell him to leave her alone, to stop this horrible mockery of a friendship. She looked up with relief when she saw that they had reached the city. The streets were well-lighted and safe. It would be a few more minutes to her house and whatever misguided duty or obligation he felt towards her and made him accompany her could be put an end to.

"It is no longer necessary that you accompany me," she said, the note of desperate relief making her voice abrupt.

"I am simply escorting you home," he replied. He ought to have left it at that but the dismissal in her voice brought out all the hurt and bitterness and the next words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them. "No one will expect you to marry me because of it, if that's what worries you."

Thornton regretted the words the moment they were uttered. They were flippant and thoughtless and unnecessary. Whatever may have happened between them, whatever the provocation, he should not have said that. For someone who had just resolved to let things be for today, he was chalking up an impressive list of things he needed to apologise for.

Margaret stopped walking to look at him, to see if there was anything behind his words—anything that might explain to her how he could say something like that to her. But she found nothing and suddenly she was glad of it. She quickly turned away, not wanting him to see the hurt that she was sure must be evident on her face and continued walking.

She was relieved that he had finally said something that would allow her to steel her heart and put an end to her confusion and her need to know. She had been desperate with worry—thinking, praying, fearing, wondering what had gone wrong between them. Staying in Milton had taken every ounce of her courage, she had gone against her family, she had risked gossip, and she had done it for him. It had been for him. And all for what? The immense hurt was being swiftly replaced by anger. And, right now, anger was the only thing holding her together.

As soon as they reached her house, Margaret swiftly climbed the steps. Thornton could not let her go without telling her how much he regretted that remark.

"Margaret, I should apologise for—"

"No!" She turned on him with a ferocity that he had never seen before, screaming the word at him. "No! The time for apologies is over now!"

"Margaret, I—"

"It is Miss Hale to you, not Margaret. You lost that right a while ago."

Thornton stood there, looking up at her, too stunned for words. Out of all the things he could have done at that moment, he found himself smiling. He knew it was hardly an appropriate response, she wouldn't understand it and it would infuriate her further, but he couldn't hold back the small smile of pure admiration. There was a reason he loved this woman to madness. She would not put up with insult from anyone. God knew he deserved her anger and he didn't mind it. He had known she would be angry, he had expected it but he had no idea just how angry. But what truly surprised him was how comforting he found it—her anger and with it the knowledge that he still had some hold over her, that he had enough hold over her for her to not care that she was making an unforgettable scene as she glared down at him from her doorstep, putting him in place as stunned passersby gaped at them. And she had never been so magnificent.

And even when she slammed the door in his face, he was smiling.

Margaret dashed up to her room, blinded by fury and heartbreak.

"Mary!" she shouted.

When Mary didn't appear, she was ready to shout for her again before she remembered that the girl was in bed. Margaret went to Mary's room.

"Did you call for me, miss?" Katie asked weakly, trying to sit up.

"Yes. I want to ask you if you would like to move with me to London."