Two weeks had passed since John's return home, and while Margaret was greatly relieved to have her husband back in his rightful place - both the mill and by her side - it would not be unreasonable to say he was driving her absolutely mad.
He hovered over her constantly, peering into the schoolroom as he passed to make sure she was alright. That was a sweet gesture, at least for the first few days. As it continued, Margaret began to feel as though she was being spied on.
He had stopped her going to the Princeton district several times, saying that it was not safe. She relented; there had been several cases of cholera reported lately, so perhaps he was just being cautious.
Then, he shouted at some boys for jostling past and nudging Margaret. She had just been about to open her mouth to do the same when her husband's overbearing boom rattled over her. She closed her eyes, praying to God to grant her some patience. Really, she had been walking rather slowly and they were only young.
From then, Margaret could hardly recall all the ways in which he had irritated her in the two weeks he had been back. It was endless, from stopping her carrying a pile of books to the study, to insisting she go to bed before everybody else. It made her feel incompetent and child-like - and she was neither.
Another problem was that he would not share her bed. Claiming that he would only disturb her and she needed uninterrupted rest, John had taken to sleeping in Fanny's old bedroom. At night, Margaret felt almost as alone as she had when he was away - though there was some comfort knowing he was only across the hallway, rather than the sea.
As she did everyday, Margaret set the schoolroom straight after the session had ended, around an hour before the final whistle blew. Emma had offered to help, but Margaret always found doing these tasks alone allowed her mind to relax. It was remarkable what a mess children could create in just a few hours. Though they spent most of the time sitting down, at the end of each day the small school room always looked as if a heavy wind had blown through the room.
The room also seemed to have become home to pests. Margaret had seen a mouse the previous week, though Ebeneezer had been summoned and no further rodents had been brave enough to show their faces. Spiders, however, seemed to creep into every corner, leaving large cobwebs in every nook and cranny. It was driving Margaret quite mad. As she stacked slates, she spotted a fresh one in the corner by the blackboard.
Muttering to herself, she dragged a chair over and picked up her broom. She swatted at the wispy strands, not quite close enough to bring it down. She leaned forward, one hand gripping the backboard as she balanced precariously on one foot.
"What the hell are you doing?" A voice startled her and she wobbled, frightened by the sudden harsh noise.
She turned, seeing John rushing towards her. He was carrying a parcel, which he hastily put down on one of the tables. Stepping forward, he grabbed hold of Margaret's elbow.
"There's a cobweb in the corner and I-"
"Get down. Christ, Margaret."
"I am fine." Margaret countered, frowning as she continued to reach for the cobweb with the broom. "I do this most days. It gets very dusty in here."
"You'll hurt yourself." John said, holding her steady even though she was not unsteady.
At least, she had not been until he had entered the room bellowing like a man unhinged.
"I certainly shall if you insist on creeping behind me and shouting at me like that!"
"I came to see if you were finished for the day as it is getting late, you can't be climbing on chairs in your condition!"
"I have been doing it for the past three months in your absence and I have been perfectly fine. Do not speak to me like I am a fool, John. I am hardly dangling off a building, it is a small chair."
"Down."
Margaret widened her eyes; she would certainly not be spoken to as though she were a naughty dog!
"No."
"Margaret-"
"Stop it. I will get down when I have finished, and it shall take far longer if you keep distracting me."
She screamed as she felt John tug at her waist and haul her over his shoulder as though she were a sack of grain, forcibly lifting her down and setting her onto the floor. She felt rage burn in her chest; how dare he?! Surely lifting her in such a way was more dangerous than standing on a chair in the first place!
"Excuse me!" Margaret said furiously as she pushed herself away from him, brushing down her skirts. "What do you think you are doing?!"
"You would not listen-"
"Because there was nothing to listen to! You are being ridiculous." She thrust the broom in his direction, and he caught it before it could fall to the floor. "You get rid of it. I am going for a walk."
"It is raining."
Margaret paused in the doorway; it was indeed pouring with rain. It thundered down, landing in great puddles with splashes of water.
"I have a hat."
"Margaret-"
"John, if you tell me what to do one more time today, I am sorry but I shall snap that broom over your head. I will see you later, and I hope for your sake there are no cobwebs left in this room when I return."
Seething, Margaret walked into the house to fetch her shawl and hat. She loathed being treated like she was made of glass. She was carrying a child, as millions of women had done since the dawn of time - she was not physically incapable. Truly, the child growing inside her was currently so small that it was barely visible that she was expecting at all. Margaret would go quite mad by the time the baby was born if she was treated in such a manner for the next six months.
"John?" Hannnah's voice called out.
"No, it is Margaret." Margaret said, her jaw clenched as she tried to calm herself down. "John has not finished work for the day."
"Are you coming in, or am I to shout at you from the hallway?"
"I am going out."
"Where? Dinner will not be long, it is already dark outside."
"I don't know, I just need to stretch my legs."
Hannah walked into the hallway. She folded her arms, her eyes narrowing as she took in Margaret's expression.
"What's he done?"
"Pardon?"
"John, he's done something that displeased you, hasn't he?"
"What makes you think that?" Margaret asked, fastening her coat and frowning when she could not quite get the buttons to meet in the middle. Another coat would have to be purchased, another chore. Another reminder of how much her body was changing.
"I remember my time carrying children well. There is nothing quite so irritating as a husband."
Margaret gasped, for this humour was so unlike her mother in law. Then, for she could not help it, she laughed.
"I was on a chair cleaning a cobweb from the corner of the ceiling. He came in and actually had the gall to lift me off the chair when I refused to get down."
Hannah beckoned her into the sitting room with a nod of her head. Feeling like a child about to get a telling off from a strict schoolmarm, Margaret sighed. She removed her outside clothes, taking her time in hanging them up. Eventually, when she could not avoid it any longer, she went into the sitting room to speak with her mother-in-law.
Hannah was sitting in her chair, a pile of mending beside her. Margaret took a seat on the settee, hands folded in her lap. Hanah resumed her sewing, eyes focused on her work and not looking at Margaret. Margaret knew Hannah's eyesight was deteriorating, and she was sure that her mother-in-law was sitting closer to the lamp than she normally did.
"He's nervous, Margaret. He loves you a great deal, you know that. I'd even say he's scared; I heard him scratching around down here in the middle of the night yesterday. He cannot sleep when he's thinking too much, you must know that about him by now."
"There is no need for him to be concerned. I had a little sickness but you know that passed weeks ago."
Hannah was silent for a few moments, though her hand continued stitching. Margaret said nothing, knowing whatever Hannah had to say would come soon enough.
"You saw Fanny, you know how Dolores suffered with her first. Child bearing is no easy task, and he's not a fool. He's come back from three months away with no idea, and now he has all this to get his head around."
"Nothing has changed."
"Everything has changed." Hannah countered. "He already worries something should happen to the mill again and he'll not be able to provide for you and I, now he has a child to think of too. John has a solid head on his shoulders, but he worries. I've seen it in his eyes a great many times, ever since he was a child. Be gentle with him."
"I know he worries. I know he loves me but you must understand - I cannot stand being treated like a doll. I want to continue as I always have done, without my husband scaring me half to death creeping up on me to tell me off like a disobedient child!"
"Margaret." John's voice called out to her as the front door closed. "Are you here?"
"Aye, she's in here." Hannah stood, looking pointedly at Margaret. "Sort this out, but keep a civil tongue in your head. You're both as stubborn as each other. Marriage has softened the pair of you, but you were bound to argue again."
Before Margaret could utter a word in her defence, Hannah swept out of the room with her mending piled in her arms, past her son and up the stairs.
"I thought you were going out."
"My coat would not button." Margaret said, chin raised. "Am I allowed to sit down in here, or would you prefer I lie in total darkness until the baby is born?"
"Don't be so bloody stupid." He muttered, sitting down beside her and rubbing at his forehead. "I cleared your cobwebs. I even swept the floor."
"Thank you." Margaret said stiffly. "I was going to do that."
"You're no scullery maid, Margaret."
"I am quite capable of sweeping the floor! John, I am perfectly well."
"Aye, for now. What if you fall, or catch an illness from a child? I've seen them in the winter, all runny noses and coughing."
"I could just as easily catch a cold at church, or from you! You would have me locked in a tower?"
"No. I'm not arguing about this, Maggie. I don't like it."
"Nothing has happened! I'll not give it up, John. It gives me a purpose."
"And is bringing a healthy child into this world not purpose enough? Promise me you'll not climb on chairs again, at least."
"Fine." Margaret relented. "I will have Emma do it instead. Is that satisfactory?"
"For now." John nodded. "I don't like arguing with you. I spend all my days negotiating, I do not wish to do it with my wife."
"Then trust I know what I am doing! All my longing for a child, you think I would do anything to harm the beloved life inside me?"
"No. No, I know you would not." He leaned forwards, his head in his hands. He spoke without moving, his words muffled. "I'm sorry, Maggie. I don't want to cage you."
"You're scared, aren't you?"
"Of what?"
"I don't know. Things are changing, John. I know we both wished for it but perhaps the reality is a little more frightening than the fantasy."
"I got you a present." John said after a while. "That's why I was coming to see you, it arrived today."
"Oh?"
John handed her a box. It was addressed to John, and was rather heavy. She frowned as she peeled back the brown paper and opened the package itself.
Inside, three jars, carefully wrapped. Margaret took one out. Through the glass, Margaret could see that enclosed within was a rich, dark red substance. She looked up at John.
"Jam?" Margaret frowned in confusion. "You got me jam?"
"You said you were craving strawberries. This is the best I could do given the lateness of the year. It is meant to be the finest jam in the country - the queen herself eats it." John explained, his brow creasing. "I'm sorry, I thought you would like it."
"Oh John!" Margaret laughed. She leaned forward and kissed him before moving back to look at her treasure. "Would you judge me terribly if I ate it with a spoon?"