Hi everybody! I apologize for the confusion over the chapter numbering. There are no missing chapters and you have not missed anything. You will get the entire story without any gaps in the telling, trust me.

I have received one or two complaints from people who wish I would post more often. I appreciate how invested you are with the story, but good things take time. I have a family and a full time job, and even posting a new chapter every two weeks is pushing it. If you look at other stories posted on fanfic I think you'll find that few of them are updated as often. Thank you for reading! Your comments mean a lot to me.

And now, back to our story.

If his mother's plan was to get him and Margaret to talk to each other, Thornton thought, then she had sadly miscalculated. Since the day of her departure they had barely spoken at all.

Oh, they were unfailingly polite to each other. At meal times they said please and thank you as they passed items back and forth. They dutifully commented on the weather. They inquired about each other's day and even made an appropriate expression of interest or concern when called for. But there was no warmth. They said nothing beyond the disinterested sort of talk that might have occurred between acquaintances at a dinner party. There was no discussion of current events or sharing concerns for the mill or hopes for the future. Their relationship was foundering, sinking under the burden of silence.

The stilted intercourse led Thornton to one unshakable conclusion: the fault for the current unhappy state of affairs was his. He should never have asked Margaret to marry him, not when he knew that she was still in love with her young man in Spain, that Frederick fellow. He should have honored his promise to Hale by booking immediate passage for Margaret and Dixon to Spain and seeing them safely off. That would have satisfied his obligation to the old tutor. Instead he had selfishly taken advantage of the moment, thinking of his own desires instead of Margaret's needs, and now he and Margaret were in an untenable arrangement. There could be no happy outcome when her heart was engaged elsewhere.

Though she did not know it, Margaret's thoughts were similar to Thornton's: she blamed herself entirely. Her father had, with only the best of intentions, trapped Thornton into a most undesirable situation with his dying request. Why had she not asked Thornton what he preferred at the time he made his second proposal to her? Why hadn't she asked what he wanted to do, instead of thinking only of her own needs? If she had asked more questions, would he have admitted that he was already courting someone else? And if he had, would Margaret still have married him?

The answer to that last question was an emphatic no. It was one thing to agree to marry Thornton when it was only a business arrangement. Marrying Thornton had seemed like a safe, logical step, a way for him to continue his comfortable domestic arrangements and forward his business while she championed her own charitable causes. Their partnership was supposed to be utterly practical and utilitarian.

Then she had started to discover the strange sympathy between then, the similarities in how they perceived the world, the way their minds took in new information and reached the same conclusion at lightning speed. She had seen the splendid nobility of his spirit, the way he inspired those around him with visions of the future, describing a future only he could see. Most of all she had experienced the tender care and patience he had bestowed on her, putting her needs before his own. She had begun to fall in love with him.

Did Thornton love her? Did he have the same strong feelings for her that she had for him? Or was he merely fulfilling the obligations of a loyal husband, carrying out his duty with marvelous self-denial as he set aside his yearnings for another? Had he sacrificed that much for her sake?

It she had not known about Anne Latimer their present situation would not have troubled her. She would have been content to live with Thornton as friends, fulfilling social obligations with him even as they both pursued their own activities and hobbies. But knowing that he cared for someone else changed everything. The prospect of a partnership now seemed faded and worn out, like an old dress pulled out of storage and held up to the light. There was no longer any appeal.

She briefly considered going to Thornton and telling him what was on her heart- that she was no longer content with a marriage of convenience- but what would she say after that? That she wanted a more conventional marriage? That she wanted to be his wife in every sense? She could never be so bold. And if she did manage to make such an offer and Thornton accepted, she would never know if it was because of true affection for her or simply making the best of the situation he was in.

Hannah had been gone for three days when Dixon returned from errands late on a blustery afternoon. The wind threatened to pull the door out of her hand as she crossed the threshold, gasping for breath.

"There's been an accident at the mill."

"An accident!" Margaret looked up sharply from the lamp she was trimming.

"Not to worry, it's nothing to do with the master. Not directly, anyway. Seems something broke off of one of those looms and struck someone in the head. They've called for a doctor."

"You're sure it was not Mr. Thornton?" She held her breath.

"As sure as I can be. I heard about it when I was walking through the yard just now. They say the master went himself to tell the family what happened, about half an hour ago."

Margaret sighed with relief. She felt sorry for the unknown employee, but at least her husband was well. "I hope the man is not seriously hurt. I suppose this means Mr. Thornton will not be home for dinner."

"Like as not. Oh, I almost forgot. There's a letter here for you. Looks to be from Master Frederick, if I don't miss my guess."

"From Frederick!" Margaret set the lamp down and came to Dixon eagerly.

"I hope he's written to apologize!" Dixon sniffed. Margaret had not made Dixon her confidante, and the servant could only guess at the state of her relationship with Thornton. But Margaret had told Dixon about Frederick's letter. For once Dixon had sided with Margaret over Frederick, who had always been her favorite. "He had no business scolding you! Men always think they know better than women what's good for them."

"You mustn't be too harsh on him, Dixon. He is the only family I have left, you know."

"That doesn't give him the right to treat like you're a child, instead of a full-grown woman who knows her own mind!"

Margaret ignored this last remark and took the envelope from Dixon's hand. Frederick's letter had no weight to it. She wondered if it contained yet another scolding or perhaps another plea to join him in Spain. She sat down at Thornton's desk to read it.

My dearest Margaret,

I owe you my deepest apologies, my dear sister, for the things I wrote to you in my previous letter. Dolores and I have discussed your situation at length, and she has made me see that I judged you too harshly, with complete disregard for your feelings. What a selfish beast I have been!

I see now that it was too much to expect that you would gladly follow in my steps into exile and deliberately leave behind all that was near and dear to you. Of course you would choose to stay in familiar surroundings, especially at such a time. You were wise to remain in the land that bred you, where the constant presence of those you know and love would help to comfort and sustain you in your loss. It was wrong of me put my wounded vanity (for vanity it was, to aspire to be the sole means of your support from now on), over your wishes and desires. I will do so no more.

A great weight seemed to fall off of Margaret's shoulders. She folded her arms on the desk and let her head sink down onto them. The relief of knowing that her brother was restored to her was just too much to take in all at once. Taking a deep breath, she picked up her head again, wiped the tears from her eyes, and continued.

Please give this Thornton fellow my best greetings. He is my brother now, and I wish that I had had the opportunity to meet him when I came to visit mother. He must be a splendid chap if he has managed to win your heart.

If you can forgive my rash words perhaps someday we can meet again. You and Thornton might travel here from England, or maybe we could arrange to meet in some other country. Or it is even possible (though I hold it highly unlikely) that this sword hanging over my head will be removed, and I will be able to return to England someday.

Write to me, I beg you, and tell me I am forgiven. I will count the hours until I hear from you again. "Hasta nos vemos de nuevo," my dearest one. Until we see each other again, I am

Your own loving,

Frederick

N.B. Pray pay no attention to my request not to tell Thornton of my existence. That was yet another example of my own selfish disregard for your needs. Secrets have a way of tearing couples apart. If you have not yet told your husband about me, do not feel compelled to withhold such vital information on my account. I know you will do as you think best.

"Is everything all right, Miss Margaret?" Dixon was passing through the room with a basket of laundry on one hip; she paused to look at Margaret in concern.

"Yes." Margaret wiped away more tears, feeling happier than she had in several days. "Something very good has happened, Dixon."

"What's that, miss?"

"Frederick has apologized."

"Hmph! Seems to me that's the least he could do!"

"He meant well, Dixon."

"Did he now? All that trouble with your father's passing and you not knowing where to go or what to do, and all he could do was blame you for marrying a rich man!"

Margaret could not help giggling at Dixon's characterization, her relief making her a little giddy. "It was more complicated than that, Dixon. Frederick thought I should be his responsibility."

"Well! It's good to have things patched up but it took too long in my view. Has he anything else to say?"

"Just that he hopes he can meet Mr. Thornton one day."

"Mr. Thornton doesn't even know he exists," Dixon answered shrewdly, and she left the room again, the basket bouncing as she went.

Mr. Thornton doesn't even know he exists Margaret repeated to herself, still holding Frederick's letter in her hand. That was not entirely true, was it? Thornton knew that she had lied to protect a gentleman, a gentleman he had seen her out with after dark, and he had not forgotten the incident in all the months since. Before they were married he had even asked Margaret if she would go to her young man in Spain rather than stay in England. He had no way of knowing, of course, that the young man was actually her brother.

Could she finally reveal the young man's true identity? She should have done so after her father died, but she had not been sure how Thornton would react. He was, after all, a magistrate, and he had said that he would follow his duty regardless of personal cost. But he had also set aside his scruples and protected her from further inquiry at the time of Leonard's death, and that had been before they were married. Surely as his wife, he would protect her even more.

The post script from her brother played over in her mind: Secrets have a way of tearing couples apart. It was time to put this secret to rest. With her brother's permission she now felt the freedom to do so. She would tell Thornton about Frederick right away, this very night, as soon as he returned from the mill. If he became angry at her for her previous reticence, well, at least she would know where she stood with him. Their relationship could hardly be any worse than it was now.

She took up a pen and paper and wrote the following:

My dearest Frederick,

Your letter has brought me the greatest of pleasure and I forgive you with all my heart. You wrote as you did in the first throes of your grief, for which I do not fault you. You would never have judged me so harshly if I had been able to give the news in person, and if you had not had the shock of my marriage so soon after father's death.

Your idea of a meeting in Spain one day is delightful, and I hope one day to be able to accept your offer.

Write to me again very soon, and never forget that no matter what circumstances we may find ourselves in, I am always your own dear

Margaret

She put the letter down on the little desk, neatly folded, and went to see about preparing a late supper. Thornton might not be home for hours but she wanted to be ready whenever he arrived.

Please let me know what you think! I love to hear your thoughts on every twist and turn in the story! I'll see you again in two weeks! –Elaine Owen