"Oh Fred." Margaret stood at the dockside, aware that to look too distraught at this goodbye would attract unwanted attention. "I do not want to go. Who knows when we will see each other again?"
"You have made it this far once, sister. Every moment we have spent together is the greatest blessing. Dolores so wants to see England, and I can think of nobody better to show her than you."
"Her father would manage-"
"But I will not be here, so you all might as well be off having fun together in England. It is rather nice to be needed, and if I can help your husband in his business then that is the most I can do to repay him for the kindness he showed you when I could not protect you."
"Write to me." Margaret asked. "Every month. I need to hear your silly observations on everything. And I shall write more often as well. Oh Fred, will we ever see each other again?"
"Yes, sister. I swear it. One day we will be standing here again, old and grey and surrounded by the dozens of children we'll surely have between us - bored of each other's company because we have been reunited so often!"
Margaret smiled, her eyes filling with tears. What a lovely thing to imagine.
"Keep safe." Magaret kissed his cheek. "I will see you again."
"See you." Fred smiled, squeezing her hand.
He moved away to fuss over his wife and baby. Senor Barbor had already boarded the ship, and Margaret knew there was not long before it would sail. John stood nearby, waiting for her to finish her goodbye to Frederick. She walked to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and burying her face in his neck. She inhaled deeply, and he did the same as he rested his face against her hair.
They pulled back, and John smiled down at her. Oh, that smile. It weakened her knees and tore at her heart at the same time. She did not know why she was so emotional; the journey back to England was not a particularly dangerous one, and she would surely see him again soon. Yet - it hurt to leave him.
"Write to me." Margaret said. "Write to me every week. I will send my replies to Frederick's house, and they will wait for you when you return to Cadiz before you come home to me. Please, promise me you will write to me."
"Of course. God, I'm going to miss you." John reached into his pocket and removed three envelopes. "Could you give this to Mother? It is merely to say hello to her, but I know I will have my guts for garters when I get home if I sent you back with notes to my workers and not her. And this one is for my men, to tell them what they need to know. The final one is for you, should you miss me. Save it for when you're back in Milton. Safe journey. I hope Dolores and Maria enjoy England, her father as well."
Margaret took the letters from him, opened her small valise and dropped them inside.
"I think they will. I shall take them to London, to visit Aunt Shaw. We shall be careful in Milton; if anyone asks, they are my father's relations."
"I do not know how a man as pale as your father would be related to an exotic creature like Dolores. She is as different to your family as day to night."
"His uncle's grandchild." Margaret supplied, her face not slipping. "He moved to Spain when my father was a boy and Dolores is his granddaughter. She will use her mother's maiden name when she is here, so nobody can make the connection even to Frederick's alias - we will say her husband has stayed behind in Spain. I doubt anyone would care enough to even hear the story, but we will not make things difficult when they do not need to be. If anyone asks about her husband - he is a Spanish man who could not travel with us."
"Did you really have an uncle who moved to Spain?" John asked curiously.
"Of course not. But you believed me, so the lie will be quite convincing. Fanny must be quiet - you do not think she will betray my trust, do you?"
"I hope not." John said. "Though Dolores is not the guilty one, they would have no cause or even sufficient evidence to keep her in England. Fred is safe in Spain, I do not believe they would ever manage to extradite him."
"He uses a false name here, I do not believe there is any connection to his true identity at all - except me, I suppose. Maria will use a different false name socially in London, there is no way anybody could prove that they even know each other. It is best she visits now, before Maria can speak. It is less complicated that way."
John nodded, his hands taking hers and kissing her knuckles. She smiled, though she felt her throat tighten. It was silly, really. She would see him soon, he was not leaving forever. Yet to be parted from her husband was a wrench she had not anticipated.
"Please take care. And make sure that mill of ours is still standing."
Margaret kissed him, not caring in the slightest that they were in public. She pulled back, her eyes drinking in his dark, handsome face. She felt tears well in her eyes - silly, really, for they would only be apart for a few months.
"I love you." She murmured, kissing his nose. "I hope your trip is fruitful. Make sure Frederick behaves himself."
John chuckled.
"I'll be home before you know it. Back with you." He kissed her cheek. "Go, love. Dolores and her father have boarded and it would not do for the ship to sail without you. However much I wish to keep you here with me."
Margaret nodded, picking up her carpet bag and taking a deep breath.
"Take care." Margaret said thickly. "Take care, my love."
Margaret boarded the ship, finding her cabin with ease. She placed her bag down and went up to the open deck. She could see John and Fred standing on the quayside. Dolores stood against the railings, Maria in her arms.
She spoke in Spanish to the babe, pointing at Fred. Margaret heard "papa" so assumed Dolores was perhaps saying something like "wave goodbye to Daddy". John caught sight of her and gave her a small, awkward wave. He looked so very English, Margaret almost laughed.
"Goodbye!" Margaret called out. "Goodbye."
Her brother and husband remained on the quayside until the boat sailed. Margaret remained at the boat rails, staring after them until they grew very small - and eventually faded out of sight as the ship moved out to sea.
"I will put her to bed." Dolores nodded to Maria, who was yawning. "She is very sleepy. I am too."
"Of course. You must rest, we do not want to over exert you. I hope the crossing shall be smooth, it takes three or four days, depending on the weather. Our journey out was not too bad at all."
"Good." Dolores smiled. "I am very excited to be seeing England. And to meet your family, and see your home."
They began to walk back to their cabins; Maria's nanny accompanied them, though Dolores kept the child in her arms. Maria and the nanny would have their own room on this trip, and Margaret and Dolores would share. It was only a small ship, limited in accomodation, but Magraret did not mind sharing a room with her sister-in-law.
"I will be so glad to show you. I only wish Frederick could accompany us."
"We must keep him safe." Dolores said, her mouth set. "I - I do not know how to say exactly how I feel. I worry for him."
"It is alright. I must learn Spanish." Margaret smiled. "Then we would have nothing between us."
"You would enjoy the language, I think. I could teach you. It will keep us busy on this journey."
Though Dolores occasionally stumbled on words or phrases, her English was impeccable. Margaret was sure she would never be so skilled at a foreign tongue.
They reached the cabins, and Dolores pressed a kiss to Maria's cheek. She passed her to the nanny, wished the pair goodnight and linked her arm through Margaret's. They proceeded to their own rooms, and Margaret resumed their conversation.
"Fred has certainly taken to the language well." Margaret said. "I am glad of it. I am glad he has settled into his life here."
"We try to only speak Spanish at home. Maria will learn both, and the new baby of course."
"How lovely to have two children so close in age." Margaret smiled, hiding her face from Maria and then reappearing. The child giggled wildly.
"Margaret I - I want to say that I am sorry. I realised my words when I told you of my pregnancy, they were - were not kind."
"Nonsense." Margaret blinked. "They were fine."
Dolores shook her head, worrying her lip and absently running a hand over her stomach. Margaret put her hand on her sister-in-law's arm, not wanting her to be upset. Of course, Dolores' words had indeed upset her greatly. It was not her fault, she was not to know that Margaret had her own concerns.
"I can be careless with my words, and I have seen the way you look at Maria. You want a child very much, si?"
"Yes." Margaret sighed. "Yes, I do. It is no matter, it has not been so very long since John and I married. I think I am just a little exhausted by everything, and my emotions have rather gotten the better of me. It has not been an easy few months, and seeing Fred, meeting you, seeing your child - it is overwhelming, that is all."
"It is a longing though. In your heart."
"Yes." Margaret whispered. "Yes, I suppose it is."
"I am sorry if I upset you. I did not mean to."
"No, no it is not you. I just worry that there is something more to this; I do not know anyone who has been married a year and is still not expecting, that is all." She said the words slowly, hoping that Dolores would change the subject. It hurt.
"It is possible." Dolores reassured her. "It does not mean you will never have a baby of your own, sister."
"I know. I know. And now John shall be gone for months, and I will have to wait even longer. It is so strange, I never thought I would be so eager to have children."
"Marriage does something to you." Dolores smiled, her eyes far away and dreamy. "It gives you a fire, no? A desire for a child."
Margaret supposed that, if she really thought on it, she wanted a family that was truly her own. Her mother and father were gone, her aunt constantly away. Her cousin had a family of her own now, as did her brother. John was her family now, yet sometimes she felt as though she had merely latched onto his life - rather than creating something that was just hers.
"I suppose." Margaret felt a little uncomfortable discussing this. It felt private; it felt ridiculous in a way, that she was so upset about this when she knew it had not been long at all. "I would rather not discuss it."
"Of course." Dolores nodded. "Tell me about London. What I shall see, who we shall meet."
"Well, we shall stay with my Aunt Shaw in Harley Street. She has insisted. She is my mother's sister. She can be rather sharp, but she is kind in her own way. You will probably meet my cousin Edith's brother-in-law Henry, and his new wife. His wife is from Milton, the daughter of John's banker."
"Did you introduce them?" Dolores asked.
"Yes. Henry did a great deal to try and help Frederick. Then after you have had a chance to rest from the journey, we will go to Milton. It is not as beautiful as London, and it is cold and damp even in summer. It is my home now, and I love it."
"Then I shall love it too." Dolores said firmly. "Frederick wishes me to go to your mother's grave, to say a prayer for her there. Will you take me?"
"Of course. I know your father has business to do in Milton - I believe John has put him in touch with Mr Watson, my brother-in-law. I will show you my school room, if you wish to see it."
"I wish to see everything. I have never left Spain. My father has been to England before, but he did not take us children."
"I find that so hard to believe. Your English is so good."
"Father always wished his children to speak more than one language. My French is not bad either. Of course, once I met Fred I spoke English every day. Now we are trying to speak more Spanish for the baby's sake."
"I suppose we must be confusing her terribly." Margaret said. "Speaking in English all of the time."
"She will know the two languages fluently as soon as she can speak, I insist on it. It is good she hears English spoken by the English. I value education greatly."
"As do I - though I missed out on another language. Speaking another tongue - it must be like having a magic key that unlocks a new world."
Dolores laughed.
"Mostly it is just confusing."
The journey was mercifully smooth, though little Maria did not like even the slightest bobbing. Margaret had walked miles, trying to rock the little girl to sleep with soothing noises. Nothing worked, and the whole party (save for Senor Barbor who had been blissfully unaware of the ordeal, far away in his own cabin) emerged onto English soil utterly exhausted.
They arrived in London a weary crew. Aunt Shaw was out for the day, and the maid who answered the door looked a little bemused as she showed the disheveled foreign strangers to their rooms.
It was strange to be back in the room Margaret always used on her visits to Harley Street without her husband. The prospect of sleeping in a bed large enough for two entirely alone made her rather sad. Still, it would not do to mope for too long; he would be home soon enough, and until then she would have the wonderful company of her sister in law for at least a few weeks.
Dolores did not come down until the next day. Margaret greeted her and introduced her to Aunt Shaw, who had already eaten breakfast.
"Hello, my dear. Gosh, aren't you an exotic thing."
"It is nice to meet you, Mrs Shaw." Dolores nodded. "I have heard very much about you from Fred."
"I am sure none of it was good, since that boy always knew how to get on my last nerve with stunning precision." Aunt Shaw said, though a fond smile crept onto her face. "Where is my little great niece? Margaret says that she has the most wonderful hair."
"She is just getting dressed. She has not been sleeping so well these past weeks. Her teeth." Dolores explained. Her voice was rather shyer than Margaret was used to, and she was reminded just how intimidating it must be for Dolores to meet her husband's family without his support.
"And I understand congratulations are in order, you are expecting again?"
"Yes. The baby will be here in February, perhaps March." Dolores smiled, though she fiddled with her wedding ring.
"How lovely."
The time in London passed quickly; Senor Barbor seemed to have endless business connections in the city and was out most days and indeed most evenings as well. Dolores and Margaret delighted in one another's company.
Aunt Shaw was rather wary of her new foreign visitors at first, though Dolores' warm heart and youthful enthusiasm infected the house with a sense of joy Margaret had not felt in all of her time at Harley Street. Margaret missed Milton greatly; she had found herself wondering what the school children were doing, and how the mill had fared in their absence. John had received regular news, but there was always a fear in the back of his mind that perhaps they were not telling him the truth.
After a week, Senor Barbor declared his business in the city finished. And so, Dolores, her father, Margaret, the baby and the nanny spread themselves over two train carriages for the journey to Milton. As the now-familiar countryside flashed past, Margaret felt a strange nervousness settle in her chest. It was as though someone was squeezing the breath from her body. It was a risk, she supposed, to bring Dolores and her father to Milton. The only people who would know their true identity would be Fanny and Mrs Thornton, as well as perhaps Watson. Margaret could only hope Fanny would hold her tongue.
After a long, tedious journey, the group alighted at Outwood Station, taking two carriages (for Dolores did not travel light) to Marlborough Mills. The city looked different after the almost blinding whiteness of Cadiz and the familiar brick buildings of London. It was dirtier, certainly; Margaret could see the smoke hanging in the air. At the same time, she could not help but smile - for she was home.
The whistle had already gone by the time they arrived, and the yard was empty. The gate was still open as the foremen finished for the day, and they walked into the mill yard. Margaret knew she was grinning like a fool; having been gone for nearly two months, it truly was good to be home. She just wished John was standing by her side.
"Margaret." Hannah called, walking down the steps from the main house.
"Hannah." Margaret nodded. "It is good to see you."
"I thought you might be bringing my son back with you, but he has written to tell me it'll be a good two months before he's home."
"Yes. There are some good opportunities he wishes to explore, and Senor Barbor was coming to England anyway. John thought it best I come home ahead of him."
"Well I suppose you'd best introduce me to your guests." She nodded towards Dolores and her father, who were standing a few yards away.
"Of course. Dolores, my sister-in-law." Margaret said in a soft voice, though there was nobody to overhear. "Her father, Senor Pablo Barbor. My niece, Maria."
"I have obtained a crib for the child." Hannah said after she had greeted them both with a small, tight smile. Her face softened when she saw the baby, bundled up against the comparatively cold Milton climate, even in late summer. "She's a tiny thing, isn't she?"
Hannah reached out to stroke the babe's raven curls, and Maria squawked with displeasure as balled fists batted the stranger's hands away. Hannah smiled, tapping Maria's nose and cooing. It always surprised Margaret how gentle Hannah was with babies.
"Yes." Dolores said. "She is. Our baby bird."
"Come in, come in. I'll send the servants to fetch your things. Fanny is here, my daughter." Hannah said, explaining to her guests. "With my granddaughter, Louise. She is the same age as your girl."
"Lovely. I have heard very much about Fanny, as I have this place."
"Has the mill been alright?" Margaret asked as they walked towards the house. "John thought things sounded a little too good to be true in the letters he received."
"He thinks I'd lie to him?" Hannah scoffed. "It's all been surprisingly smooth in your absence, though if he ever thinks to go away for months again I might have a strong word with the man."
Margaret laughed.
"Perhaps he is just a little cautious, that is all. I think Cadiz will be very good for him; he has already made some contacts who are most interested in placing orders. He is travelling all over Spain with my bro- with Senor Barbor's employee."
"You may talk about your brother here. Fanny knows she is to keep quiet; John sent her a rather stern letter."
"He didn't say."
"Aye, she was most indignant about it."
"I must thank her for her discretion then."
"I wouldn't thank her just yet. You're looking well, Margaret. You've caught the sun."
"Yes, I wore a wide brimmed at every day but still I find myself rather freckled. The heat was wonderful. John's chest is much better."
"Good. A terrible winter that was."
"Indeed. Oh, it is lovely to be back. I am most tired of travelling."
"Will you rest before dinner?" Hannah asked.
"I am sure Dolores would benefit from it. Did John mention in his letters that she is expecting?"
"No, he didn't. Of course she must rest. I've made up the spare rooms for them, Dixon will show them."
"Oh, I must go and see her. I did not write to her and I am sure she will be quite furious with me." Margaret smiled.
She had brought gifts back for those she was close to; some fine Spanish lace for Hannah and Fanny, an exquisite shawl for Emma and various trinkets that she knew Dixon would admire.
"She's been most quiet since you've been gone. I might almost have come to like her."
The house was warm despite the damp from outside, and Margaret breathed in deeply. The smell of home surrounded her, and it made her think of John - still far away in Spain.
Dolores and the rest were taken to their rooms. Margaret went into the parlour, where Fanny sat on the floor. It was a most unusual sight, yet she was waving a rattle before a rather indifferent Louise. The child was almost one year old, still as blonde as her mother. Her eyes were a bright blue, her cheeks full and chubby. It had been some time since she had seen her aunt, and Margaret felt a little sad at the lack of recognition from the babe that had been there before they had left for Spain.
"Hello!" Margaret joined Fanny and the baby on the floor.
"Oh you are so freckly Margaret! Really you should stay out of the sun. You were just the same after your honeymoon."
"I love walking. I do not mind the sun, I do not know why you are so afraid of it. All the women in Spain have the most glorious complexions."
"Hmm. Where is your sister-in-law - or your uncle's daughter or whatever the story. John really was most impertinent in his letter, as though I cannot be trusted to keep a secret!"
Margaret thought it best not to address that.
"She is resting. She is expecting again and is rather exhausted from travelling."
Fanny's nose wrinkled.
"I cannot imagine being in that condition again. It was the worst time of my entire life."
"I know. Dolores was very unwell, but she seems to be much better this time. Perhaps it would be the same for you."
"I do not care to find out." Fanny said. "Louise is quite enough for me."
"Does Watson not want a son?"
"If Watson wants a son, he can carry him himself." Fanny huffed, pulling Louise onto her lap and pressing a kiss to her hair. "You'll see what I mean one day. It really is the most dreadful chore."
Margaret swallowed, but tried to push down any emotion she might have felt.
"Has much happened while we've been away?"
"Not really. I have been dreadfully bored since Anne moved to London. She has written to me and I am jealous of all the fun she seems to be having."
"I am sure it will all settle down once the season is over. Besides, London life can be rather tedious after a while."
"Oh you sound just like Mother!" Fanny rolled her eyes. "What was Spain like? Was it beautiful?"
"Oh, yes. The most stunning buildings and churches, beautiful sea, palm trees." Margaret sighed. "Oh it was blissful."
"It has rained all summer." Fanny huffed.
There was a small tap at the door. Dolores, holding Maria, peered round.
"Hello." She smiled, walking in. "You must be Fanny."
"And you must be Dolores. You are a lot prettier than I thought you would be."
Dolores blinked for a moment, but merely smiled.
"Thank you. This is your daughter? She is a beauty. Your hair, both of you, it is beautiful. Like gold."
"Thank you." Fanny, always one for receiving complements, shone with pride. "This must be Maria."
Dolores set the dark haired babe down next to the golden one, and Margaret smiled at the sight. She never thought she would see her nieces side by side, and wished John could see it too.
It was decided that they would spend a week in Milton before beginning their journey back to Spain. Dolores wished to return home before she became too large and uncomfortable to travel - she was concerned about sea sickness, as autumn was on its way and often brought with it rough seas.
The mill had indeed fared well in its master's absence. The workers welcomed Margaret back warmly, shouting enquires after Mr Thornton. The children were very glad indeed to see her, and several of the smaller girls flung themselves at her waist as they arrived at school the first day she was back.
The one thing that dampened her good spirits was the empty space in bed where her husband should have been. It had been only two weeks, and it was possible he would be away another two months yet, but she missed him most bitterly indeed.
One night, as she climbed into bed, she reached into the drawer of the cabinet by her bed. She had stored the letter he had written her there, not wanting to open it too soon. But tonight, she needed to feel his presence. She tore the envelope open and as she unfolded the paper, she was instantly comforted by his familiar handwriting - careful as it always was.
Maggie,
It is very late, but it is so hot that I cannot get comfortable. You are sleeping a few feet away from me as I write this, but I felt the need to write to you so that you have something you can open at home - if you should miss me. I do not know what it will feel like to be apart from you for so long after spending the last year almost constantly by your side. Know this; I will think of you every day. You have made me a better man than I ever thought I could be. To be loved so completely by you is the greatest honour and gift. You are the best wife a man could ask for - nothing will ever change that. Nothing.
Before we married, I did not imagine that anyone could ever miss me, the misery that I know I can be. Yet I hope you will yearn for me just as much as I know I will for you.
I shall see you soon, my darling girl.
Always yours,
John
Margaret held the letter to her chest as tears welled in her eyes. She could hear his voice as clearly as if he were beside her, each word meaning more to her than he could ever know. She breathed deeply. He would be home in due course.
Little did she know, a most welcome surprise awaited both of them.
A/N: See you on Christmas Eve for a little Christmas present...