Circling the Heart

by KylieKyotie

A several chapter story of John and Margaret being thrown together by fate and later secretly thanking their lucky stars for it. One small section with an adult intimacy situation. May add more vignettes as inspired. Fairly fluffy.

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The Aftermath

Margaret returned home after the riot at Marlborough Mills exhausted and a bit battered. Her head throbbed angrily, making her nauseous. It was a battle not to vomit in Dr. Donaldson's carriage, all over his shoes. Even if he was a doctor, that kind of thing would be mortifying – not the thing at all. Sheer will, concentrating on each breath, and willing the nausea to subside, finally won out even while morbidly and obsessively reliving earlier events. At the Thornton house, as she lay semi-conscious, she heard Fanny and a servant saying something about her and Mr. Thornton and that the whole thing seemed contrived. What? How was that even conceivable?

For Fanny or anyone to think anything that happened during the riot contrived? After all, they were an angry, violent, unpredictable mob. Anyone who witnessed them could be under no illusion as to their intent. They looked positively murderous. She truly feared for Mr. Thornton's life, realizing the danger she put him in too late, as her goading prompted him to go outside and talk to the teeming mass of outraged workers. Seeing some men gathering rocks, she quickly joined him, facing the mob herself, imploring reason and calm. Surely no one would think she intended to force some kind of… Oh God, would they?

Fanny was such a snippy little thing. Of course, she would draw an incorrect conclusion. No doubt something salacious was more interesting to her than something true. It was shocking she was even related to Mr. Thornton. He was such a serious, intelligent, handsome (where did that come from?), steadfast man - his harsh exterior belied a caring, protective nature. A surprisingly soft underbelly as it were. She was slow to recognize it, begrudging even, but with some gentle urging from her father, and then her mother, she had to admit he was truly a good man. He had been very supportive and helpful to her family, never missing an opportunity to secure fruits for her mother, or some light, irresistible pastry. Mrs. Hale had no appetite, and grew frailer and frailer, so they were grateful for anything that tempted her to eat. That kindness alone made him a dear friend of the family. But in the quiet of her own thoughts, Margaret admitted he was more than that.

After assuring Dr. Donaldson she would send word if she felt any worse, Margaret quietly entered the house. Pausing in the hall to remove outer garments, she looked in the mirror. The reflection startled her – she looked so pale, so unwell. The gash on her forehead was clearly visible as was an alarming spot of blood, stark against her simple white muslin dress. Pulling her hair over the gash, she moved to the stairs. The dusty, blood-spattered clothes must be removed before anyone saw her.

They would worry and ask questions. Too many questions. She didn't want to talk – not now, not yet, maybe if she was lucky – not ever. She was groggy in addition to an unsettled stomach, and longed to sleep, but Dr. Donaldson warned her to stay awake. Sleeping too soon after a head injury was dangerous. If she could just stop the throbbing in her temple. The throbbing in her temple chased a path, strangely, thrumming through her ears and ending at her teeth. She wondered distractedly if she bit her cheek or her tongue, there was no soreness but she had a strange metallic taste in her mouth.

As she started to climb the stairs to her room, Mrs. Hale's hesitant, slightly tremulous voice wafted down to her. "Margaret? Is that you dear?"

"Yes mother," Margaret responded, trying to sound cheerful, or at least not quite so…shattered.

"Come see me, will you?"

"I'll come directly mama, as soon as I freshen up – the streets were so dusty today." The quick excuse gave her time to compose and refresh her appearance. At least she was certain to stay awake.

Margaret spent a few hours with her mother talking and keeping her company. Mrs. Hale showed her how to mend a piece of delicate lace so the repair was undetectable. Mr. Hale joined them for a little while and noted how subdued Margaret was after returning from Marlborough Mill. She claimed it was nothing of import, just fatigue after a restless sleep the night before. Dixon told him later that a disturbing rumor was circulating about Margaret and Mr. Thornton. News spread quickly through the service staff in that town – or in any town for that matter – since they saw behind the scenes of all the great houses. Apparently, Margaret stood closely with Mr. Thornton during the riot and was hit with a rock, assaulted, by one of the strikers.

Mr. Hale asked Margaret about the unrest at the Mill and exactly where she was during the violence. Finally, reluctantly, she admitted to the injury, but rushed to assure him the incident was without consequence. After all, her friend Bessie didn't even know she was the woman at the Mill who was struck by the rock and her father was one of the union leaders. Because of the violence, the strike ended, certainly that would be the focus of any talk or tittle tattle.

The whole of it made him uneasy though, so Mr. Hale sent a note to Thornton and asked him to pay a visit the next morning. Margaret was young and perhaps too innocent to understand the importance of appearances since something about the incident sparked gossip. Mr. Thornton was a respectable, reasonable man and Mr. Hale considered him a friend – he felt confident he could trust Thornton to give an honest retelling of the events.

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A PROPER OFFER

Thornton returned home; weary from the violence of the riot and his meeting with authorities. They questioned him about who was involved. The strike was over but they wanted to arrest the ringleaders and press charges against the man who threw the rock at Margaret. Entering the parlor, he saw his mother, Fanny, and Jane, the maid who usually attended Fanny. Fanny was stretched out dramatically on the chaise, where he last saw Margaret, and Jane was fanning her dutifully.

Looking around, he asked with obvious concern, "Where is Miss Hale?"

"She has gone home John," Mrs. Thornton answered in a clipped tone.

"Mother, she was hurt. How could you allow it?" he chided.

"Everything was done properly – I went to get Dr. Donaldson myself, since no one else was willing to do it." She glared at Fanny and Jane. "She insisted on leaving, and the doctor offered to bring her home. There was no telling her anything different – she's such a headstrong girl," Mrs. Thornton groused defensively.

"Thank you mother, for bringing the doctor here. That was very important. What did he say?"

Mrs. Thornton nodded stiffly at his thanks. "Only that she could go home if that was what she wished. I suggested she stay and rest and we could bring her home later, but she wanted to leave. She didn't want to worry her parents – especially her mother, since she is poorly. The cut bled quite a bit, as cuts to the head do, but Dr. Donaldson cleaned it thoroughly and said it actually looked a lot worse than it was."

"I see," he said curtly, then turned and walked towards the front door.

"Where are you going?" Mrs. Thornton asked sharply.

"To check on Miss Hale, of course. I want to make sure she is well."

"Wait John, please. Do not see her today. I'm asking you." Fanny raised her eyebrows, glancing at Jane.

"Fine mother. As you wish." Thornton stalked out of the room.

Instead of visiting Margaret, he went for a long walk and mulled over what he wanted to say when he did visit. He didn't understand exactly what his mother hoped to accomplish by insisting he delay seeing Margaret, but he acquiesced. Mrs. Thornton noticed his interest in Margaret early on, even though he denied it. He assured her he was in no danger from Miss Hale as she wouldn't understand their Northern ways. Who was she? An errant clergyman's daughter, Mrs. Thornton grumbled defensively. His mother knew how it was though. Her discouraging words and snide remarks were an effort in futility. He'd not argue with his mother – he'd already decided. He would pursue marriage - it was simply a matter of when.

Before the riot, Thornton considered asking Mr. Hale to allow a courtship. But he waited, erring on the side of caution. After Margaret's unexpected public display, he felt duty-bound to make an offer. He found himself nervous and excited at the prospect. It was sooner than he intended, but still, it was what he wanted. Truly wanted. For Margaret's part, there was no indication of any special regard, but he actually appreciated her reserve. It was comforting. Overt affection would be jarring in a wife, or anyone really, as far as he was concerned. Truth be told, no one other than his mother would be able to discern his marked regard, he masked it too well. A courtship would have allowed them to gain a better understanding of each other, but as it was, Thornton simply hoped Margaret would care for him in time. His feelings were already certain.

It was late when Thornton returned home. He saw the light in the sitting room, knowing his mother waited up for him. She often did.

"You're still up? You must be tired," he observed, loosening his cravat as he drew near.

Mrs. Thornton looked up from her embroidery. "Why would I be tired?" Watching him for a moment, she finally asked, "Where have you been?"

"Walking."

She waited. "Where have you been walking?" she persisted.

He gave her a pointed look and sighed, resigned at the probing. "I said I would not go there and I did not."

She huffed, satisfied at the answer, but dissatisfied with the reason. He would have gone if she hadn't objected.

"Mr. Hale sent a note." She held it out to him.

He took it and read the message quickly.

"He asks that I meet him tomorrow morning."

"I'm sure he's heard the rumors."

"Yes, probably. I'm glad of it, I expect him to support what I must say."

"He could hardly do otherwise," she agreed.

He nodded, "Given the circumstances, I must forgo asking for courtship and suggest an immediate betrothal. At least, that is what I will propose."

"Miss Hale is lucky to have your regard."

"Mother..."

"She is John. I don't know why you think yourself beneath her..."

He raised a hand, warding off her coming tirade, "Mother, I do not feel beneath her, I am only concerned that we have not spent time in courtship to allow mutual regard to form between us. But if I am accepted, I hope those feelings will develop."

"She would be a fool to refuse you."

"Well, I do not think she is a fool. She is fairly young, although I find her to be very mature, certainly much more so than Fanny."

Mrs. Thornton snorted, "I should hope so. Otherwise, she would drive you to distraction."
They smirked at each other - Fanny. All was resolved. Mrs. Thornton said what she wanted to say and Thornton would do what he wanted to do. He kissed her forehead.

"Goodnight mother."

"Goodnight John."

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A COMMON GOAL

The next morning, Mr. Hale read from Plato while he waited for Thornton. It was a delicate situation. Margaret's reputation might be ruined if the rumors persisted, but he knew how obstinate she could be, even though she was dutiful. He also had no idea what Thornton thought about it or what he was willing to do. So, first, he decided he'd talk with Thornton, and then he would talk to Margaret and Thornton together. Until he spoke with them, he and Dixon decided to keep the information from Mrs. Hale.

Mr. Hale smiled and offered his hand to Thornton when he entered the room. This was where they met regularly for their scholarly debates. It was a comfortable, familiar place. "Good morning John. How are you today? And how are Mrs. Thornton and Miss Thornton?"

"I'm fine Richard, as are my mother and sister. How are Mrs. Hale and Miss Margaret? I brought fruits and sweetmeats for Mrs. Hale with me to improve her constitution. I left everything with Dixon."

"Thank you John, my wife and daughter are as well as can be expected. You're very considerate to bring gifts to aid my wife's comfort. Please have a seat. Can I offer you some tea?" he asked, nodding to the tea service nearby.

"Yes, thank you."

After each man was holding a cup of tea, they sat in silence for a moment.

Mr. Hale put down his cup, and sighed, looking serious. "Well, I may as well get right to why I wanted to talk with you today. I'm troubled by talk about you and Margaret and an incident at Marlborough Mill yesterday. Dixon says it's quite alarming. Margaret never even mentioned it until I asked, but she said it was nothing to worry about. She seems to think everyone will forget about it soon enough. I was hoping you would tell me what happened and what you think we should, that is, how to handle the problem, if there is one," he finished uncomfortably.

Thornton steadied himself. Looking directly at Mr. Hale, he spoke in his usual, straightforward, no-nonsense manner, "First, let me say, Margaret acted very bravely putting herself in harm's way on my account. But, the way she behaved looked as if, well, it looked…familiar. Richard, there's no other way to say this – the crowd was growing angrier and threatening and when I demanded that she go back inside, she threw her arms around my neck to shield me, thinking they wouldn't hurt a woman. But someone threw a rock and it hit her head. She was unconscious for a short time as a result of it. It was very worrying. I had to leave to talk to authorities, but my mother brought a doctor and he examined her. By the time I returned, Margaret had already returned home. I never had a chance to talk with her about anything, although I wanted to."

Mr. Hale's eyes grew wide as Thornton recounted the events. "I had no idea as to the full extent of what happened. I don't trust rumors, but Margaret was reluctant to share such information. It is more serious than I could have imagined. I don't think people will forget such a spectacle."

Thornton rushed to add, "Mr. Hale, I would like to amend the situation and ask that you allow me to marry your daughter. I feel it is the proper thing to do. Even though it is sudden, I already have a great deal of respect and regard for Miss Margaret. I think we could have a very good marriage. Unless we marry, her reputation will be ruined in Milton and mine would suffer as well. I would appear less than honorable. Will you consider giving your consent?"

Mr. Hale rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his brow creased with concern. "Margaret will not like feeling pressured, but I thank you for offering to do the right thing by her. You're a good man and I know you will be a good husband. My wife is getting weaker and the doctor has warned us there is nothing he can do except make her comfortable for the time she has left. It would break Maria's heart to see Margaret ruined but it would give her great joy to see her married. We would gladly welcome you to our family John, even without the current circumstances. I don't see any other solution. I believe a wedding should take place as soon as possible."

Thornton looked relieved. "You will tell her?"

"I will call her in now. I'd like you here, to be part of the discussion, if you don't mind?"

"Of course, whatever you feel is best," Thornton agreed.

Dixon brought Margaret to the study.

Margaret was surprised to see Mr. Thornton with her father. Still embarrassed by events the prior day, she blushed and nodded to him, "Good day Mr. Thornton."

"Good day Miss Hale."

Quickly shifting her attention, she asked, "You wanted to see me, father?"

"Yes Margaret, please join us for tea. We were just talking about the riot at Marlborough Mill."

Margaret blanched, looking at Thornton. He had a soft look in his eyes but otherwise appeared to be calm and unperturbed.

She refilled the men's cups and prepared her own, sitting next to her father on the divan, across from Mr. Thornton. She looked down at her lap.

"Margaret, Mr. Thornton has filled me in on all that transpired yesterday. I think it is much more serious than you let on, as far as…public perception of the event is concerned."

She darted a quick look at her father and noted his worry. When she looked at Mr. Thornton he maintained the same soft gaze, but his lips formed a firm, determined line.

"Yes?" she offered non-committedly. Thornton schooled his features, not allowing himself to smirk, though he felt her evasion humorous.

"It is unfortunate, but regardless of your intent, your actions and your…proximity to Mr. Thornton during the violence could seriously compromise your reputation. We both feel that you and Mr. Thornton should marry as soon as possible to protect your reputations."

Margaret looked panicked. "Please papa, Mr. Thornton owes no obligation. It was my fault, after all, I insisted he confront that mob. He should not be made to marry because of my error in judgment. Surely it's not necessary. People will forget about it soon enough and the gossip will stop."

"No, Margaret, they won't forget. Mr. Thornton is an honorable man and he wants to do the honorable thing. He is not being made to do anything - he suggested it. There is no coercion here."

Thinking of what Fanny and the maid insinuated, Margaret looked anxiously at Thornton, searching his face, afraid of detecting reluctance. The look in his eyes was kind - there was no unease - he seemed perfectly amiable.

Thornton couldn't admit that he would marry her with or without the gossip. He might never be able to tell her. Maybe years from now, after their lives had been joined for some time, but not now, not when he was unsure of her regard.

"Miss Hale, your reputation will be ruined. Surely you can see that," Thornton offered gently. "You are blameless – it was an unfortunate incident – but it came about because of my workers, at my Mill. You should not suffer because of it."

Margaret looked carefully at both men. They were sympathetic and concerned but united in the same resolve. She must marry – not only for herself but for her family and also for Mr. Thornton - that was the end of it.

Mr. Hale soothed, "Margaret, think how happy your mother will be to see you marry. If there is a silver lining, it is that. You know her condition, this is a chance for her to see you walk down the aisle and marry a good man for whom she feels high regard. It is a blessing. You must consider this in its most favorable aspect."

Thornton started at Mr. Hale's words. He genuinely welcomed their marriage and so would Mrs. Hale. Margaret was moved as well. She softened and the anxiety drained from her face and body, replaced by a calm thoughtfulness. It would be well.

Margaret's demeanor shifted, cultivated manners replaced her former nervousness accordingly. "I would be very glad to bring you and mother happiness father since I know you also have high regard for Mr. Thornton. He is both kind and honorable to make such a generous offer so quickly," she said quietly.

Mr. Hale squeezed her hand, "Very true my dear."

Thornton's heart clenched – this was no hardship – it was what he wanted – dearly wanted in fact. "Miss Hale, it will be a privilege and an honor to join your family and to have you join mine. I believe we have everything necessary to form a successful, happy union and enjoy great felicity in marriage."

Mr. Hale patted Margaret's hand reassuringly. Her future was secure. "Very well said John, I will be proud to call you my son-in-law."

Finally, Margaret smiled shyly at Thornton and he smiled in return. Looking at her father, she asked sweetly, "When should we tell mother?"

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NEW BEGINNING

One day or even one moment can completely change the course of one's life. It may not even register as anything especially important at the time, but tracing back, it will stand out as being pivotal to forming the future. That moment for Thornton and Margaret was the moment they smiled at each other right after discussing and finally agreeing to marry. It was quiet and simple, yet its effect would ripple through the end of their days.

For Thornton, it gave propriety to his burgeoning romantic feelings, with leave to feel more – to express more. Margaret would be his wife. His feelings were just, and right, and beyond reproach. For Margaret, it was the beginning. She could allow herself feelings for a man, something she had steadfastly refused to pursue or even acknowledge, in any quarter. It was too dangerous. Men assumed favor all too quickly with little encouragement and with varied intentions – not necessarily honorable ones. She was mindful of her good family and somewhat elevated status, but lack of fortune made her vulnerable.

Margaret never felt a spark for a man before Mr. Thornton. He intrigued her almost immediately, his rough tenderness was incongruous. But she denied those unbidden, uncomfortable feelings. Flutters in her stomach when he spoke. That rich, deep voice seeped in, rolled through, and somehow touched her - all at once. Breath tightened in her chest when his expressive eyes gazed at her. It was exhilarating and disturbing.

She controlled her own gaze when they were together, only risking quick glances. Mostly she looked down or away, or past him, or at his nose – anything to avoid sinking into those eyes. Monitored thoughts and constant activity, such as reading or embroidery or other tasks, helped to push it away – all of it. But now, Mr. Thornton, John, that would take some getting used to, would be her husband. She could look and touch and feel. Let loose those emotions of…what exactly?

After they finished speaking with Mr. Hale, Margaret walked Thornton to the door. They were thoughtful. Thornton looked furtively at her, glad she seemed less anxious. Thornton wanted to say something, anything but felt awkward in the newness of their understanding. Openness was only slightly uplifting. Mostly it was just strange. But they must learn to speak with each other, to be comfortable in each other's company.

So he ventured an obvious, safe question. "When will you tell your mother, do you think?"

"As soon as may be, I expect, probably later this morning. My father and I will sit with mother once she is awake, so we can tell her then. There is no reason to wait, it is good news after all, well, except…" she started to say something else, but stopped suddenly as her brow furrowed in worry.

"What is it?" Thornton finally asked after it was clear she wouldn't continue.

Margaret looked embarrassed. "Mother will ask about the date, because of the suddenness. I'm not sure I want her to know about the riot and the mill incident. I don't want to cause distress, but I also don't want to be untruthful." At this point, she was unconsciously wringing her hands.

Thornton sighed quietly with relief, fearing briefly that she was anxious about him. He pulled her hands into his, hoping to calm her. It occurred to him how natural it felt to comfort her, to touch her when just an hour earlier such a familiar gesture would have been improper.

"Given her uncertain health, you can say we decided on a brief betrothal and marriage to ensure she was strong enough to attend. That is what I intend to say when sharing the news. Perhaps you should speak with your father and ask whether he thinks it necessary to say more than that?"

She brightened, "Yes, of course, and it's true after all, we are acting in the best interest of ourselves and our families. It is unlikely mother would hear gossip anyway, except perhaps from Dixon, and Dixon is devoted. She will only say what father wants mother to know."

"That's exactly right, depend on your father's wisdom. I would have wished for a courtship so both you and I and our families could adjust to our future together, but your mother's health is delicate. Parents want to see their children settled. A speedy nuptial will allow your mother that solace. It may even give her strength."

Thornton felt a little guilty at implying their marriage could bolster Mrs. Hale's strength. Knowing of Margaret's constant worry, he knew she would do anything to help her mother. Mr. Hale said a wedding would bring Mrs. Hale joy, so it wasn't a falsehood, just a hopeful elaboration on the physical effects of her happiness.

Margaret squeezed his hands impulsively, eyes wide and shining, "Do you really think so?"

He smiled, bringing her hands close to his chest. "Your mother's cares will lighten knowing she will witness her daughter's marriage, which can only help."

He kissed her forehead before leaving, looking deep into her eyes. For once, Margaret did not shy away.

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A WEDDING TO PLAN

Walking home from the Hale's, Thornton barely felt the ground or noticed glances from townspeople hoping he would pay his regards. He walked quickly and determinedly through the streets, masking his buoyant feelings with his usual impassive demeanor. Not looking at anyone. Not stopping to talk. They assumed he was a busy man with important business. Important matters, that was certainly true, but his thoughts were concerned with shining green eyes and an impending marriage – only days away.

Thornton was considered one of the most eligible bachelors in Milton. He was a mill owner and a magistrate. Of all the unmarried mill owners he was the youngest and the most handsome, with a sterling reputation. The other eligible mill owners were men of means but mostly old, portly, and widowed, or middle-aged and grasping. They would all marry, of course, their economic superiority assured that regardless of age, appearance, temperament, or even character, but Thornton was an anomaly. He was the bachelor to "catch" for at least 5 years running.

He never paid any particular attention to the young women introduced to him. He remained detached and reserved. Polite and equally inattentive to all, since both men and women could be grasping. After Mr. Hale and his family arrived in Milton, Thornton surprised everyone with his regular visits to their home. And so the gossip began.

The Hales weren't even part of Milton's society. Mr. Hale was just a simple clergyman from the south who curiously relocated his family to Milton. They had no relations in town. A clergyman who came to teach mind you – not serve in the church and offer scriptures to the masses. Inexplicably, he taught philosophy and whatnot to the elusive mill owner. Of course, it was also noted that the Hales had a very pretty daughter, of marriageable age.

Reaching his home, Thornton went directly to the dining room to have breakfast, leaving his outerwear in the hall. His mother sat at the table, sipping her morning tea and waiting for him, naturally.

"Good morning mother," Thornton walked over to Mrs. Thornton and kissed her cheek.

"Good morning John. Why don't you sit down, I'll fix you a plate."

He nodded and sat at the head of the table, loosening his cravat.

Mrs. Thornton poured his tea and placed the cup in front of him, then returned to the sideboard where silver warming trays held eggs, sausage, bacon, kippers, potatoes, baked beans, mushrooms, tomatoes, and sourdough toast.

"Are you hungry?"

"Very."

Thornton usually only ate a large breakfast on Sundays. On all other days he kept his meals small and regulated. Too much food made him sluggish or dull. He couldn't afford to be either of those things when he worked. His hours were long and his work required steady concentration, whether he balanced ledgers, reviewed legal documents, or surveyed mill operations. Even though it wasn't Sunday, his stomach was finally settled and he was truly famished. His appetite had been spotty due to nerves and he keenly felt all those missed meals.

Noticing all of this over the course of several days, Mrs. Thornton ordered the cook to prepare a full breakfast, just in case. She put a little of everything on Thornton's plate. It was heaping.

Thornton ate for 10 minutes before pausing.

"More tea?"

Thornton nodded and continued to eat.

Mrs. Thornton brought back tea for both of them. She sat down and waited patiently for him to finish.

Thornton sighed and leaned back in his chair, placing a hand on his very full stomach. The plate was empty. "Just what I needed," he said appreciatively, "thank you, mother."

Mrs. Thornton nodded, a slight smile tugged up the corners of her mouth. "You're welcome John; I thought you might want a full breakfast today."

Thornton smirked, finally letting some of his happiness show. "You were right."

They sipped their tea. It was kind of a willful contest between them – who would divulge information and who would ask for information first. Thornton usually waited for his mother to ask since he typically was the one with news. Unless he needed to discuss something – then he would speak up at the earliest. Today, he didn't have the patience to wait. He wanted his mother to start planning everything necessary on her end. That is, everything outside of securing a special marriage license, arranging the church service, the honeymoon accommodations, and the marriage rings. Those were responsibilities he assumed – Mrs. Thornton would want and expect to do anything else needed or asked.

"I saw the Hales this morning, as you know."

"I'm glad that's finally over. You've got your appetite back," Mrs. Thornton inclined her head at his clean plate.

"Yes – it went well – very well. We agreed that Miss Hale and I should marry as soon as possible. I will get a special license today and see the pastor about arranging a wedding service. The guest list will be very small, so hopefully, it can all be arranged in time."

"Don't worry about anything John. Do you know how many from the Hale's side will attend?"

"No one is really expected, given the short notice. They have family relations in London and there is also Mr. Bell, Miss Hale's Godfather, in Oxford, but the Hale's plan to simply send an express with a wedding announcement, explaining the short notice by way of Mrs. Hale's declining health. If anyone does attend, it will be 5 at the most. I will visit the Hales again this evening to talk about plans further. My preference is to have the wedding next week, on Wednesday morning at 11, and then host the wedding breakfast here directly after."

"Are you selecting Wednesday because it is the best day?" Mrs. Thornton teased.

Thornton wasn't embarrassed by the choice or his reason for it, but he played along anyway.

"Mother, those wedding rhymes have been drilled into me. Fanny sang them constantly as a child." He smiled and recited the rhymes, knowing it would humor his mother.

"Marry on Monday for health, Tuesday for wealth, Wednesday the best day of all, Thursday for crosses, Friday for losses, and Saturday for no luck at all." He took an exaggerated breath and continued, "White - chosen right, blue - love will be true, yellow - ashamed of her fellow, red - wish herself dead, black - wish herself back, grey - travel far away, pink - of you, he'll always think, green - ashamed to be seen. Compliments of Fanny," Thornton finished with a smirk.

Mrs. Thornton snorted, "John, she still sings those rhymes, or hums them. You just aren't around during the day to hear it." She became serious again. "Will you have a honeymoon?"

Thornton shook his head. "Not hardly, just a week in Blackpool. A proper wedding tour will have to be postponed for at least a month or two. Miss Hale doesn't want to leave her mother right now and I need to get the mill's current back-orders filled and future orders organized before I can go away for any length of time."

Mrs. Thornton nodded her approval. It was as expected with such a hurried wedding, family and business matters came first.

Thornton visited the Hales every night leading up to the wedding. He only saw Mrs. Hale once when she gave him her heartfelt congratulations and welcomed him as her future son-in-law. It was a short visit since she grew fatigued easily. Her family didn't tell her much about the riot. Only that there had been unrest at Marlborough Mill. John and Margaret's quick marriage was explained by her illness, which she acknowledged was a good idea. The other nights Mrs. Hale stayed abed, getting as much rest as possible in hopes of gathering enough strength to attend the church service and the wedding breakfast. If she couldn't manage both, she was determined to at least see Margaret walk down the aisle.

Most of the visits went well. The only minor upset came in relation to invited wedding guests. The evening started out innocuously enough, with the usual inquiries and discussion about the progress of various arrangements. Thornton had gotten the license and the church secured and arranged for the week in Blackpool. Mrs. Thornton had the local invitations sent and answered and placed a wedding announcement in the local paper with the widest circulation. She also ordered the carriages and flowers and had the wedding breakfast menu planned. She only needed the names of any guests on the Hale side, for hosting purposes. As far as the food and drink were concerned, a few more or fewer guests wouldn't be of consequence. All the leftover food would be given to staff and the rest put into baskets and delivered to various workers' families, according to Margaret's wishes. Almost everything was in order.

Mr. Hale, Margaret, and Thornton were sitting in the study having a cup of tea. They were almost finished with their discussion for the evening. Thornton planned to surprise Margaret before leaving with her engagement ring. A simple but lovely diamond and emerald ring. The green stone was chosen because of her green eyes, which captivated him from the start. Plain gold bands would be exchanged on their wedding day. He remembered what his mother asked earlier and decided it was a good time to bring it up.

Addressing Mr. Hale, Thornton asked politely, "Have you heard from Mr. Bell or your relations as to whether they might attend the wedding?"

"Mr. Bell will come but Mrs. Shaw, Mr. and Mrs. Lennox, and Henry Lennox sent their regrets, along with their congratulations. Although, it's probably for the best as far as Henry Lennox is concerned."

Mr. Hale's off-hand comment about Henry Lennox clearly startled Margaret, which Thornton noted with unease. Margaret glanced at Mr. Hale nervously.

Realizing the blunder, Mr. Hale apologized, "I'm sorry my dear."

"Why would it be best?" Thornton asked warily.

Margaret gazed determinedly at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap.

Mr. Hale looked uncomfortable but tried to smooth over the awkwardness by simply saying, "Henry Lennox was quite taken with Margaret when they met in London. It might have been difficult for him to see her marry."

"He was a suitor?" Thornton asked carefully, as jealousy started to erode his good humor. He hadn't thought about other suitors. Margaret never mentioned anyone and she hadn't shown interest for anyone in Milton – not even him.

Margaret felt the shift in Thornton's mood and tried to quell her anxiety. There was nothing to apologize for but she felt guilty all the same as an unfortunate, telling blush heated her cheeks.

Thornton asked a little tightly, "Margaret? Would you care to elaborate?"

She met his eyes. The flinty spark of jealousy was obvious.

"There's not much to tell," she answered calmly, "Henry proposed to me shortly after Edith's wedding and I refused him." She looked at her hands again, willing herself not to wring them, as she tended to do whenever she was anxious or upset.

"And you do not regret refusing him?" Thornton pressed.

Margaret answered truthfully, "Not at all." She ventured another look into his eyes. Still a little wary, but less jealous, so that was good. She considered telling him she never welcomed Henry's regard, but knew instinctively Thornton would react poorly, given the circumstances of their own betrothal. She decided to tread lightly and say as little as possible.

Thornton sighed, steeling his unruly temper, reminding himself that she would be his wife soon. He admired Margaret upon their first meeting, and no one had ever managed that before. Of course, other men had noticed her. She had probably been out at least a couple of seasons before coming to Milton.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Someone as lovely and accomplished as you must have attracted much interest – especially in London," he offered with slightly begrudged equanimity.

Margaret smiled shyly, relieved. "Mrs. Shaw was determined to see Edith married. I attended countless balls and dinners with them. I wasn't sought after like Edith, but Henry Lennox and I were in each other's company often because of his brother, Captain Lennox. Captain Lennox quickly attached himself to Edith and she returned his regard. Then, of course, Captain Lennox visited my Aunt's house regularly after he and Edith became engaged. Henry Lennox usually accompanied his brother on those visits. I only ever thought of him as a future family member."

"I see." Thornton decided to focus on the fact that Milton was a good distance from London. It was unlikely Margaret would see much of Henry Lennox in the future, and if she did, he would be there. He'd make sure of it.

Mr. Hale cleared his throat, "How about your guests, John? Do you have all that settled?"

"Yes, my mother and sister and a few close business associates and their wives and family members will attend - Mr., Mrs., and Miss Hamper, Mr. and Miss Latimer, Mr. and Mrs. Slickson, and Mr. Watson. You met the men earlier when you came with me to our club. They are other large mill owners I meet with regularly."

"I think Fanny said Miss Latimer is a friend of hers," Margaret mentioned casually, looking at Thornton with slightly raised brows, knowing full well Miss Latimer had tried and failed to gain Thornton's regard. For that matter, so had Miss Hamper, but she had given up fairly quickly, according to Fanny, because she wasn't as pretty or as rich as Miss Latimer. Miss Latimer's attentions were much more fervent and recent.

Thornton shifted uneasily in his seat. Fanny talked too much, far too much, and usually about things that were none of her business. Troublesome girl, he thought with annoyance, not for the first time. Given Margaret's look, it seemed she knew of Miss Latimer's unwelcome and, for a while, unrelenting attempts to win his suit. Mr. Latimer supported the match and hinted as much to Thornton on more than one occasion.

Miss Latimer's "campaign" was launched shortly after the Hales arrived in Milton. The reports of Margaret's beauty spread through town quickly and likely spurred her to action. It was a fruitless venture though since Thornton set his sights on Margaret almost from their first meeting. It had taken some tactful avoidance, but Thornton skillfully evaded Miss Latimer's pursuit, just like those before her.

"Yes, they are friends, and they are very much alike. I think they spend most of their time shopping, or gossiping," Thornton groused dismissively. Alright then, he acknowledged to himself, they both had their former admirers and would-be suitors. The past is the past.

Thornton and Margaret looked at each other with silent understanding – truce. Margaret happily noticed the hint of a smirk that tugged at the corners of Thornton's otherwise firmly set mouth. She was beginning to learn how to read the subtle changes in his expressions.

"It's getting late, but there is one more thing I want to go over before I leave."

Margaret and Mr. Hale looked at Thornton expectantly. He reached into his pocket and removed a small silver box. Opening it, he showed them the diamond and emerald engagement ring.

Margaret gasped, "Oh John, it's beautiful." Mr. Hale discreetly squeezed Margaret's hand.

Thornton smiled and stood. He loved when Margaret used his first name. She still called him Mr. Thornton most of the time, through force of habit. Mr. Hale and Margaret rose and stood with him. Removing the ring, he offered the case to Mr. Hale. Looking fondly at Margaret and Thornton, Mr. Hale thought wistfully, just for a second, that Mrs. Hale should be there to enjoy the scene unfolding before him. She missed so much these days.

Thornton reached for Margaret's left hand and placed his own under hers, palm to palm, and then placed the ring on her finger.

"Margaret, please wear this ring as a symbol of our troth. I am honored you will soon be my wife and I will be your husband." He lifted her hand and kissed the ring. Turning to Mr. Hale, he said sincerely, "Richard, I will be honored to join your family and call you father-in-law."

The men shook hands. Mr. Hale patted Thornton's hand warmly. It was the most affection Margaret had seen expressed between them.

They stood in silence for a few moments, while Margaret admired her ring. Thornton was suddenly anxious to leave.

"I really should be going – it's quite late and I'm sure we could all use some rest."

He was at his emotional limit. Thornton had gone from contentment to jealousy to embarrassment and then back to contentment again, mixed with gratitude. It was unsettling and exhausting. He needed to walk. Luckily, Mr. Hale and Margaret murmured their agreement.

"I'll see you out," Margaret said, looping her arm through his. "Goodnight father."

"Goodnight Margaret. Goodnight John. We'll see you tomorrow evening?"

"Yes, I'll be here at the usual time. Goodnight Richard."

Leaving the room, Margaret straightened her hand toward her father, displaying the ring with a cheeky grin and a dramatic flutter of eyelashes, knowing he would see the humor in the gesture.

Mr. Hale smiled widely and nodded. It really was a blessing and a relief to see one's children settled.

Thornton and Margaret stood a moment in the hall before he donned his hat and gloves. In what was becoming a sort of ritual between them, Thornton took Margaret's hands into his and pulled them close to his chest. They had so little privacy; these fleeting minutes before he left the Hale house each night were precious to him.

"I believe everything is in order for the wedding and our week in Blackpool. Is your dress ready?"

"Nearly, I believe it only needs a few adjustments for fit, and the addition of some lace mother made. Dixon said it will be done in time. I have another fitting tomorrow, but I'm sure it will be beautiful. Dixon is very fussy."

"I know I can't see it beforehand, but can I ask what color it is?"

"It's white with blue lace."

"Right and true?" Thornton asked softly.

Margaret looked surprised. "You know the rhyme?"

"Very well. I've heard it quite often. It's been a favorite of Fanny's since childhood, and beyond."

Margaret could hear the affection in Thornton's voice. He complained about his sister's foolishness, but he loved her dearly all the same.

"What colors will you wear?

"Blue suit, blue waistcoat, white shirt, and white cravat," he said with a grin.

"We'll look perfect together," Margaret enthused.

"Yes, we will be perfect together," Thornton amended.

Margaret marveled at the warmth in his eyes as he gazed at her in that steady way that made her breath hitch and her stomach flutter.

He leaned in, placing a hand under her chin, and pressed his lips gently to hers. She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of his light touch. He smelled of citrus, sandalwood, and spice. She breathed him in. He gradually pulled away, in what might have been seconds or minutes. Resting his forehead on hers, he murmured, "My Margaret," before stepping back.

They remained still and silent, relishing their fledgling intimacy. It was their first real kiss, and it was perfect.

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TWO BECOME ONE

Mr. John Thornton and Miss Margaret Hale married on a Wednesday, 1 week after Thornton proposed. A special license, a small gathering with family and friends, a quaint wedding, a lavish marriage breakfast, and it was done. The bride's mother attended both the wedding and the breakfast, to the delight of her family and the relief of the groom, knowing how important her mother's presence was to his new bride.

Margaret's usually steady nerves were strained the morning of her wedding. It finally sank in; she was marrying John Thornton, an exceptional man of fine character, with a bit of a temper and a recent surprising show of jealousy, but still, her father's friend and student. He was an acquaintance, not her suitor. Most of their brief time together was spent in her father's company. Margaret wished they had longer to learn something of each other beyond their thoughts on Greek philosophers and the battles and intrigues of ancient mythological figures.

Those topics were interesting enough, but what of present life and making their way together in the world? Beyond the struggles of the mill, and looking after his family, what did John Thornton care about? Dream about? What were his likes and dislikes? What did he think about music? Art? Dance? How did he feel about chocolate? For or against? She'd be willing to debate that with him since in her experience, men rarely understood the pleasure.

Margaret had 7 days to reconcile leaving her parent's home and entering his. And of course, she thought about the marriage bed. The great mystery. Her mother talked to her about it, sort of, but it was all so vague and proper, it wasn't much help. What was she supposed to do exactly? Just lay still and be quiet seemed a bit ridiculous, given the mechanics of the act. At least she knew something on that score. Luckily for her, Bessie Higgins was knowledgeable – not experienced mind you – but she knew things.

Bessie laughed until she cried and then had a 10-minute coughing fit the day they talked. Apparently, the look of shock on Margaret's face when Bessie explained how a man and woman joined in their bed was comical – really comical. Margaret just thought it sounded weirdly uncomfortable and could understand why no one wanted to talk much about it. Bessie teased that Margaret should close her eyes and think of duty or something else if she didn't like it.

Margaret took the teasing in stride and they competed for the best suggestions of how to occupy her thoughts on her wedding night. They proposed such things as – "for country," "for Milton," "chocolate pastries," "tea and scones," "starry nights," "sunny days," and finally, the winning suggestion, by Bessie of course, "for a new dress!"

After their giggling finally subsided, Bessie added with a smirk and a flash of sadness in her warm brown eyes, that she was sure Margaret would make a good wife and as far as sharing a bed with her husband, she might actually enjoy it. According to Bessie, men and women could find pleasure in their union, not everyone considered it an unpleasant duty. At least her earlier uneasiness was gone. Margaret was just curious about how it would feel and hoped she didn't laugh, given her and Bessie's talk. John Thornton was such a serious man. He probably wouldn't appreciate her mirth under those circumstances.

After John kissed her, Margaret was even more curious. It actually made her wobbly on her feet. The phrase she read somewhere, kissed senseless, came to mind. Now that was a pleasant surprise. The sensations were somehow numbing and exhilarating at the same time. Like a part of her was tamped down while another part was stirred up. It felt good to kiss him. She had never kissed a man before, but feeling like she might fall over afterward had to bode well for them as a couple. Didn't it?

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THE BEST DAY

Dixon fussed over Margaret's dress and hair and nails until the last possible minute. She had sewn Mrs. Hale's beautiful, delicate cornflower blue lace onto the simple creamy white silk dress herself, not trusting anyone else with the task. The lace sparingly trimmed the neckline, waist, cuffs, and veil. The cut of the dress showed off Margaret's slim hourglass figure perfectly. In a word, she looked elegant. The soft white silk and blue lace brought out the color of Margaret's sea-green eyes and her peaches and cream complexion. Before presenting the blushing bride, literally blushing as it turned out, to her parents and Mr. Bell, Dixon walked around her one last time to ensure everything was perfect.

"You look like a princess, Miss Margaret. A real princess. Your parents will be so proud."

"Thank you Dixon. Your work is beautiful – the dress, my hair – everything. I've never been so pampered and primped in my entire life." And prodded, Margaret mused silently, glad it was finally over, even if the results were indisputably excellent and worth enduring. "I don't think I have a callous or a freckle after all your treatments. And my hair doesn't dare escape its braids and combs."

It was true. Dixon had made Margaret wear various concoctions every day and night - on her hair, hands, feet, face, and neck. Even her teeth got Dixon's attention – buffed, polished, and of course, whitened. Oily mixtures – bleaching mixtures – fragrant, flowery or fruity mixtures - and tart, sharp-smelling mixtures – all applied expertly to various parts of Margaret's body. Always, in the end, a final rinse with vinegar or a rub of sugar or salt or baking soda. And then, Dixon wrapped her like a mummy every night before bed – all over – so her skin was soft from head to toe. Plus, she fashioned Margaret a turban to ensure that whatever oily or creamy mixture she applied to her hair didn't rub off all over Margaret's bed pillows. Whatever Dixon perceived as an imperfection didn't stand a chance against her ministrations. She wouldn't tolerate impediments to the bride's beauty on her special day. Dixon took duty very seriously.

Dixon clucked happily, waving off the compliments. "Let's get you downstairs. We don't want to make your Mr. Thornton nervous. He'll think someone came and stole you away right from under his nose."

Someone stealing her away indeed. Margaret knew Dixon was making a slight jab at John – since she thought Margaret should have married a London gentleman, not a Milton mill owner – but she ignored it. Between the men she met in London and John Thornton, she preferred John; he was a good man and a loyal friend to her family.

"I'm ready Dixon. You've done everything possible to help me prepare."

Mr. and Mrs. Hale and Mr. Bell were waiting in the front parlor for Margaret and Dixon. Normally, the men would have gone to the church separately from the bride, but given Mrs. Hale's delicate health, Mr. Hale and Mr. Bell stayed to make sure she had support if need be since Dixon was so closely attending to Margaret.

Dixon entered the parlor and smiled. Everyone stood. There was the rustle of silk and then Margaret stepped into the doorway. Mrs. Hale gasped. Mr. Hale and Mr. Bell smiled broadly.

Mrs. Hale exclaimed, "Oh Margaret, you're a vision! You look absolutely beautiful." Holding tightly to Mr. Hale's arm, Mrs. Hale looked at him teary-eyed, her hand unconsciously drifting to her heart, as if to steady it. She pulled him over to stand in front of Margaret for a closer look. Mr. Bell joined them.

Mr. Hale kissed Margaret's cheek. "You're lovely my dear."

"I've never seen a more beautiful bride," Mr. Bell said graciously, bowing low.

Margaret smiled bashfully at the attention. Blushing of course.

"Thank you mother, father, Mr. Bell. Dixon has been a tremendous help. I couldn't have gotten ready without her." Margaret smiled at Dixon appreciatively.

"I dressed Mrs. Hale for her wedding to Mr. Hale all those years ago. It's only right I properly dress their little miss," Dixon said proudly.

It was time, finally time, for Margaret to meet him at the altar. John stood at his place, with the priest behind him, tidying various objects to be used in the ceremony on the altar table. John was inwardly nervous and impatient, but outwardly calm and assured. There were few people in the church, just as the bride and groom intended. Invited guests were asked to keep the date and time of the wedding a secret so that the church didn't fill with gawkers who were merely curious to see the young, sought after mill owner marry the new beauty in town, or, bonny miss, as Nicholas Higgins liked to affectionately call Margaret. John and Margaret only wanted to have family and friends present.

John was dressed in blue and white – right and true - and he looked exceptionally handsome. Miss Hamper and Miss Latimer looked at him with a mix of jealousy and regret. Jealous that another woman was able to secure him, and regret that he never gave them the slightest regard. No chance, none at all. He was always just polite. Very polite and very distant. They would both marry well of course, their dowries ensured that, but those men wouldn't be a "catch" like Mr. Thornton. He was the husband every eligible Milton society girl wanted to land and he went and married a girl, a nobody really, just lately from London.

John willed himself to remain impassive and still, although he longed to pace briskly, even stride – up and down the altar or up and down the aisle – just to release the restlessness in his legs. But he didn't, he just resolutely trained his eyes on the church door. Calm, cool, and collected as far as everyone present could see, but inside he was nearly bursting with anticipation. Margaret would arrive soon. She would become his and he would become hers. Although in truth, he felt like he had been hers for a while – she just had no idea. He had imagined her with him in every room of his house – every room. It was very disquieting. It was time to put an end to the prospect – happily put an end to it.

The church door opened and all heads turned. Mr. Bell, Mrs. Hale, and Dixon entered the church. Mrs. Hale clutched Mr. Bell's arm and walked down the aisle steadily, albeit slowly. Dixon followed behind, watching Mrs. Hale's every step surreptitiously. Ready and anxious to take her other arm and support her if needed, a promise Dixon insisted on from Mrs. Hale in the carriage on the ride to the church. Mrs. Hale was comforted by Dixon's unfailing consideration, but she was determined to appear as normal as possible, keeping all attention on Margaret and John – as it should be.

John nodded and smiled as they took their seats in the front few. The same polite nods and smiles were exchanged with Mrs. Thornton and Fanny Thornton on the other side of the aisle. Bessie and her father sat on the bride's side, but near the back, in case Bessie had a coughing fit. The Higgins' were also mindful of Milton society. They kept their distance. Nicholas and the groom were on opposite sides in their day-to-day work – a union leader and a mill owner. But today, that particular area of contention was put to one side. John exhaled one long, controlled breath. Not long now.

"Such a handsome groom. John and Margaret will have beautiful children," Mrs. Hale whispered to Mr. Bell after they sat down. He smiled and patted her hand soothingly.

Margaret told Mrs. Hale about John wanting to wear blue and white in deference to the good luck associated with the colors for marriage. It surprised her, but when Margaret explained Fanny's preoccupation with marriage rhymes, it made sense. Still, it spoke of a romantic heart, and Mrs. Hale thought it quite sweet. John looked less severe in blue – even the dark navy shade he wore - as opposed to his usual black. His blue eyes were more striking than usual against the color, becomingly so.

The first chords from the church organ sounded and everyone stood in anticipation of the bride. John somehow stood even straighter. He stared intently down the aisle, wanting to capture every moment of Margaret walking to him in his memory. His breath caught when she finally came through the doors on her father's arm. She was exquisite. White and blue, as promised. Clasped in her left hand was a small bouquet of white roses, bluebells, and lavender, chosen for their significance – happiness, purity, constancy, love, and devotion. The base of the bouquet was wrapped in a swath of fine, embroidered white cotton – the cotton a nod to John's mill and the embroidery a gift from Mrs. Thornton – and tied with delicate, braided ribbons of navy blue and white, reflecting the groom's colors.

John barely heard the music as he watched Margaret and her father approaching. She was wearing a veil, but it was delicate, he could see Margaret's eyes shining and she was smiling as she looked at him. Father and daughter finally drew near. Mr. Hale kissed Margaret's cheek and then squeezed her hand. Before giving her to John, he shook John's hand. Mr. Hale turned back to Margaret and they just looked at each other for a moment. Margaret gave him her bouquet. He gently placed her right hand in John's outstretched left hand, and then quietly joined his wife and Mr. Bell. Mrs. Hale took the bouquet and leaned against him heavily, dabbing away tears with her lavender-scented handkerchief before they spilled down her cheeks.

John and Margaret never stopped holding hands during the ceremony. Margaret could feel John's confidence – it seemed to roll off of him in waves - it helped steady her nerves. She had it right. As soon as Mr. Hale gave him Margaret's hand, John felt secure about their union. All was right with the world. He knew how to take care of his family and he would take care of his wife. She was his responsibility now. Responsibility settled him – defined him even. If there was anything that always made sense, it was that. Look after your own.

The wedding did not reflect the bride's earlier vision of a walk to the church in a pastoral setting. Milton's industry was quieter for the day, so there was less dust in the air which only partially obscured an unusually blue sky, but that was the extent of anything especially rural. The families and guests arrived by carriage and left by carriage. Everything was done properly, according to Mrs. Hannah Thornton.

From the time of the proposal until the day of the wedding, John felt grateful for the support of Mr. Hale – his new father-in-law, because really, it was a joint proposal. Without the father's love and concern to influence her, John wasn't entirely confident Margaret would have accepted his suit so easily. But she was a dutiful daughter and now she was his wife. Thank God. The uncertainty and longing was torturous – it was a relief to have the confines of marriage to get to know her.

John recognized he had strong feelings but little knowledge of his wife. Their marriage would have to incorporate the courtship they never had. Although, given his own observation of such matters, many couples began with even less regard for each other and thought nothing of it.

The wedding party arrived at Thornton House after posing for photos at the church. Many considered the practice an extravagance, but John and Margaret both dearly wanted it – hang the cost. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to capture a special time with their families and they knew full well it was precious.

The guests were waiting at Thornton House during the photo session and had been served refreshments. As the wedding party entered, everyone cheered and clapped. John pulled Margaret close, snaking an arm around her waist. The newlyweds smiled at everyone. Mrs. Thornton, Fanny, Mr. and Mrs. Hale, and Mr. Bell slipped away from the couple and joined the other guests. Mrs. Thornton immediately checked with the senior housekeeper to make sure everything was in order for the breakfast and that everyone present had been seen to.

John addressed the guests, "Friends and family, Mrs. Thornton and I are delighted to have you with us today to celebrate our marriage. We appreciate your good wishes and good company on our special day." John looked at Margaret to see if she wanted to say anything. She smiled shyly and shook her head slightly, declining. "Thank you for coming. Please have a drink or other refreshment before we sit down for breakfast," he finished smoothly.

Margaret wasn't sure of her voice at that moment – seeing her mother and father photographed in the church was very emotional – surprisingly so. It struck her suddenly that without her wedding she might not have had a picture of them together before her mother's passing. John squeezed her waist reassuringly. He noticed how teary-eyed she had gotten watching her parents in the church and he understood, really understood, the waves of emotion that came with the death of a parent. In Margaret's case, it was an impending one, but still, she felt it keenly. John couldn't help but feel a flash of regret at one point during the ceremony that his father wasn't present for his wedding. He pushed the thought away quickly, but he sympathized with Margaret. He knew that loss.

John and Margaret mingled with their guests, chatting, accepting congratulations and thanking everyone again for joining the celebration. People asked about the photographs and their honeymoon, of course, and they answered truthfully they looked forward to both. Although they shared that the week in Blackpool was really just a brief holiday – the honeymoon tour would come after a few months. On the other hand, their wedding photographs would be ready by the time they returned from Blackpool. Both John and Margaret were excited about that.

Fanny stood with Miss Latimer and Miss Hamper. The three saw a lot of each other socially. Fanny would probably be the first of the three to marry since Mr. Watson had been paying his marked regards of late. She had already decided he was a good match and was amenable to his attention. Her mother agreed. John was less enthusiastic, but he gave Fanny his tacit approval if she decided it was what she wanted. He just asked her to think it over carefully. She already had. Even though it wasn't a love match, it was an advantageous match. Mr. Watson adored her and Fanny couldn't wait to marry. She expected Mr. Watson to make an offer soon. She lorded it over her friends of course. It placed her at a definite hierarchical advantage.

The three young women took close stock of the glowing bride and groom. Milton's young, handsome, formerly eligible wealthy mill owner swept off his feet, apparently, by an undeniably beautiful clergyman's daughter – from London. He was the one who got away and she was prettier than most of the women they socialized with. It was both romantic and irritating.

"Don't John and Margaret look lovely together," Fanny enthused, casually stressing her close relationship with the familiar use of the couple's first names. Miss Latimer and Miss Hamper murmured an unenthusiastic agreement.

Not getting the reaction she wanted, Fanny continued, lowering her voice conspiratorially, "You know, John noticed Margaret right away. I really think it was love at first sight. It's all so romantic. John has never been taken with anyone like that before. I'm so happy for them both."

Fanny's targets bristled slightly. That was the reaction she wanted. Fanny was actually trying to be kind in her own way. She knew her brother had always been secretly set on marrying for more than just a dowry incentive, like most of his contemporaries, and she truly was happy for him. Miss Latimer and Miss Hamper never had a chance – nobody did really – certainly not after John laid eyes on Margaret. Wouldn't it be better if they knew his marriage came about because of genuine feelings? Not just because Margaret was obviously much prettier than either of them?

The Hales and Mr. Bell were the first to leave the wedding breakfast. Mrs. Hale did fairly well, but she reached her limit, even with extra medicine to get her through the important day. Her fatigue finally became too much to bear, even though she wanted to stay longer. Margaret gave her parents a basket of everything they served at the breakfast to give to Dixon. Dixon attended the wedding ceremony at the church but refused to attend the wedding breakfast at Thornton House. She didn't think it proper – even though she was more like a family member than the staff.

Even Mrs. Hale's prodding couldn't move her. Dixon was a bigger snob than anyone, so they finally decided to give her the basket so at least she could partake in the celebration that way. The same was done for the Higgins family. Bessie told Margaret privately that her family would not be comfortable among her other wedding guests. They were society people. Margaret didn't want her friends to feel ill at ease, so of course, she accepted their apologies with grace. Instead, she sent them several baskets of food and sweets. It was a pleasant surprise and one they could not refuse – it was a gift after all – not charity.

The rest of the wedding guests left within another hour or so of the Hales and Mr. Bell. The biggest surprise of the day was the generous gift from Mr. Bell. He secretly gave John 2500 pounds as Margaret's dowry, since she was his god-daughter. He knew John had managed to convince Mr. Hale no dowry should be set on Margaret. Instead, John suggested any funds should be used for Mrs. Hale's care, since the physician's expenses had risen drastically and would likely continue. Mr. Hale accepted John's offer, it was actually a necessity, but he still fretted about it. Mr. Bell assured his long-time friend that he would discreetly provide Margaret's dowry and was honored to do it. Mr. Bell was secretly pleased at John's willingness to forgo a dowry in kindness to the Hales and obvious high regard for Margaret. It inspired him to give an even bigger gift than he would have otherwise.

Mr. Bell also said he would not accept any rent payments for the Marlborough Mill property for 6 months in order to allow the mill business time to recover its regular operating strength after the worker strike. He didn't want John and Margaret to have such a worry at the start of their marriage. John was stunned. Under any other circumstances, he would have declined the suspension of rent, on principle, but he simply thanked Mr. Bell graciously – since it was a gift – not business.

After the guests left, the Thornton family – along with their newest Mrs. - retired to the parlor to have tea or spirits, whatever was wanted. John poured himself a brandy. Margaret asked for a sherry as did Fanny. Mrs. Thornton had tea with whiskey. They all sat and talked for a while. John sat next to Margaret with his arm draped casually over the couch behind her. He had stayed close all day and often had an arm around her, so sitting with him in such close proximity felt comfortable. Plus, Margaret was a little numb from the sherry and a glass or two of wine earlier. She felt very relaxed; her jitters had slowly subsided throughout the day.

Considering the lack of courtship and the unusual circumstances of the hurried marriage, John and Margaret might have waited to know each other intimately – but they did not. John gave their situation great consideration, finally deciding on the most practical solution. He and Margaret should talk about it. It was sure to be an embarrassing conversation, but he wanted to start their marriage in good stead, so he took his usual approach – honest and forthright. The betrothal and marriage was only 7 days, but it was carried out with mutual consent. If they were to live as husband and wife, they should be able to confide in each other, even if it wasn't entirely comfortable.

Mrs. Thornton asked to see Fanny for a moment outside of the study to give John and Margaret some time alone. It was the moment John was waiting for.

"Margaret, I'd like to talk to you, in private, for a little while. Would you like to change and join me in my room in an hour?"

"Yes, I'd like that," Margaret agreed. She stood up and he politely did the same. "Excuse me," she said giving him a small smile and then left the room in a rustle of silk.

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THE BEST NIGHT

Margaret's head was tucked into the crook of his neck. Her soft, bare body was nestled against him with an arm across his chest. John didn't want to move or fall back to sleep. He felt deliriously content. His new wife enjoyed their first time together. Really enjoyed it. John felt like beating his chest in triumph.

Their union began with a kiss after a slightly awkward talk about what would happen during their first night together as husband and wife. Margaret had some understanding of the relations between a man and a woman. That had been a relief. John was prepared to explain whatever necessary, but Margaret told him she knew what happened physically, she just didn't understand why it was so sought after, at least by men. It was hard not to laugh, but her honesty was endearing. She admitted he was her first kiss. For John, Margaret's admission was both thrilling and competitively fulfilling. That bloody Henry Lennox hadn't touched her. John would be Margaret's first everything. He felt an admittedly very male pride at the realization.

John wasn't sure what to say to Margaret's inherent question as to whether there would be any pleasure in the act. Procreation was accepted and desired, but other than that, she had no frame of reference for sexual enjoyment. John asked how she felt when they kissed. She blushed furiously in embarrassment but described her feelings along with her physical lightheadedness and weak-kneed reaction. Instead of talking about it further, John kissed her, really kissed her – passionately. She was extremely responsive and they quickly moved to the bed.

John held back as long as he could, but Margaret's moans and gasps and writhing pushed him over the edge. He was afraid she might feel pain when he first entered – she didn't. Rather, she was impatient and urged him to please, please continue. That was it, whatever restraint he had managed earlier was gone. Their union was intense and frenzied. He held her and watched the last shudders of her climax. Afterward, they kissed softly and stroked each other until drifting off to sleep, entwined.

As he lay awake, John mused over the wedding day. It was a wonderful day and a wonderful night. He couldn't remember being happier than he was at present. Right here. Right now. The gentle sound of Margaret's breathing soothed him. Sated sleep, he thought proudly, and he couldn't help but look forward to when she woke again…

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HUSBAND AND WIFE

Margaret woke to a mostly dark room except for the faint glow from the last embers of the evening's fire. She couldn't move, not surprisingly. Since their first night together as husband and wife, John slept with a heavy arm or leg covering her. They had been married four months and had gone on a holiday and then a honeymoon only two weeks later since Mr. Bell's wedding gift allowed John the new luxury of no bank debt. He didn't worry about taking some time away from the Mill. It was happily arranged. John and Margaret felt it important to honeymoon – they relished time alone and John continued to court his wife even while acting as a husband. In those four months, they had not missed a night together – not a single one.

Margaret didn't know what other married couples did with any certainty, but those she knew of had separate rooms. As did she, but she hadn't actually ever slept in it, except for an occasional nap during the day, after visiting her parents. Witnessing her mother's steady decline left her drained and in need of rest, especially since the visits were essentially a performance in cheerfulness to bolster her parent's spirits. Sometimes she just sat and talked quietly with her father at her mother's bedside as she slept, released from pain by the doctor's laudanum draughts. Mrs. Hale's passing drew nearer every day and the family kept an unspoken vigil. But nights? Nights were spent with John – in his room and in his bed. She shifted slightly. Even in sleep, John adjusted and pulled her closer. Like he always did.

Margaret assumed that after marriage, they would retire to their own rooms at some point. Not that they ever discussed it. Staying together in one bed simply became another norm. Like how John usually sat with her in the evening after their meal – sometimes a light meal and sometimes something more substantial. Hannah Thornton and Margaret planned these together – if there was one thing they had in common, it was care and concern for John. Depending on how busy John had been – and whether or not he missed earlier meals determined how many courses they planned. Of course, if they had guests, the meal was lavish as expected.

Following supper, John and Margaret took a walk, if weather permitted, and then they spent some time in the family parlor, where Margaret read or did needlework. Fanny and Hannah Thornton would usually join them, but they were not a very talkative family and each would drift to some kind of semi-solitary pursuit. John read or sat at his desk and worked on his books, looking up occasionally to check on Margaret. If she did needlework he might read aloud. She loved it when he read – his voice was a beautiful sound – deep and rich and mesmerizing. It seeped in and soothed her – warmed her more than any fire could. Everything sounded better with his voice.

When they sat together, John liked to lay his arm across the back of the divan, cocooning her. When they walked together, he held her arm. If they stopped, his hand would rest on her waist. He was caring and overtly possessive. He left no doubt she was his wife. It irked him if a man looked at her too directly or too long. It didn't take much. On those occasions, she was always attentive to the shift and distracted him with a squeeze of his hand or a hand placed lightly on his chest. Or, if he was really agitated, fussed over his cravat, feigning to adjust it long enough to pull his focus away from whatever offended him. Margaret saw hints of his jealousy while they were still betrothed, but now she purposefully managed it.

She teased him about it, likening those who dared to offend his husbandly sensibilities as unwittingly "poking a bear," even going so far as to call him "John Bear," and musing what he would be like as a "Papa Bear." For her, his eyes smiled at the jest, although he acknowledged to himself it was a fair analogy. He knew his temper. Love made him fiercely protective. The men who looked at his beautiful wife? They got what they deserved – nothing less than a withering glare that promised more if they overstepped. He'd show them John Bear. Without hesitation.

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FUTURE CARES

Margaret stood in front of him, hands on hips, glaring. John mused to himself it wouldn't be at all surprising to see sparks fly from those lovely, angry green eyes soon. He kept the smile from his eyes and carefully schooled his features. There was something wrong with feeling like this he knew, but he was enjoying his wife's temper. John Thornton liked the ebb and flow of domestic currents. Maybe because he and Margaret were still newlyweds – they were just shy of 10 months, but he loved being married. All of it.

It delighted him to have his wife try to give him a set-down, even if she didn't have a leg to stand on, like now. When Margaret felt strongly about something, anything really, she voiced it and defended her point vigorously. His scrappy wife. She was such a little thing – barely 9 stone and that's only because she was carrying their first child. Her rounded belly was becoming more noticeable now.

John put down his paper. Part of her temper came from the pregnancy. Actually, most of her temper. Before becoming pregnant, Margaret was rarely out of sorts. He had been warned about it. Both his mother and Dr. Donaldson told him what he could expect physically and emotionally. She might cry for no reason. Or she might get mad at him with little provocation. She might have a big appetite or very little, depending on whether or not she suffered from nausea. So far, Margaret had done all of that – and more – and John was happy – content even – with everything.

"Sweetheart. It's not good for you to get so upset," he offered softly, trying to placate her. A little temper was somehow endearing, but he didn't want her to get too wound up. It would affect her appetite and he knew she hadn't been eating as regularly as she should. Nausea lasted half the day sometimes and all she could manage was dry toast until it finally passed.

"John Thornton, stop trying to manage me," she retorted, although her hand unconsciously drifted to her belly, where she stroked it softly as if to soothe the baby.

"I wouldn't dare," John replied dryly, as he patted the seat next to him. "Come. Sit with me."

She shrugged and sat down next to him. Her temper was already gone, but now, tears threatened. That's how it was these days. Emotional ups and downs that changed course with exhausting speed. John saw the change and rubbed her back without saying anything. Margaret was looking down at her lap, embarrassed at her temper and now, at the sudden tears, which started to fall rapidly, wetting the back of her hands. She starting shaking as a new wave of emotion overwhelmed her.

John pulled her into a tight embrace, kissing her hair and rubbing her back as she hiccupped and cried onto his shoulder. "Shhhhhh," he cooed. "It's all right sweetheart. I just want you safe. I know you want to see your friend Bessie but the Princeton district has cases of cholera and too many people are getting sick there. I have the workers wearing kerchiefs cross their mouths, suggested by Dr. Donaldson, and I don't walk the floor any more. Some of the workers are even sleeping at the Mill because they have sickness in their homes. Production is down. People are dying. I can't be around it and you can't be around it. It's not safe for you or the baby. Or your mother. You could expose her to something, and in her condition…"

Margaret cried harder and tightened her arms around him.

After a few minutes, her breathing slowed again and the hiccups subsided. "I'm sorry," she whispered into his neck, sucking in a jagged breath.

"I understand. You miss your friend."

She tipped her head back and looked at him with red-rimmed eyes and shook her head.

He smoothed her hair, tucking a loose tendril behind her ear. "Why don't you send her a note and a basket? Higgins can take it to her and if she is well enough to write, he can bring it back and I'll give it to you. So far, his family has been spared. The man is an ox, but I don't want him or anyone else in our house until this scourge is over."

She nodded and laid her head on his chest, suddenly very tired and very hungry.

Hannah Thornton heard some of John and Margaret's tiff and wisely remained out of sight. She waited until she heard John's voice soothing Margaret before she entered the room. She was checking to see whether they wanted an early dinner. John worried over Margaret's appetite but he hadn't been eating much himself. Hannah Thornton kept track of these things.

John looked at his mother and nodded slightly, letting her know all was well. Nothing serious. He rubbed Margaret's back soothingly, resting his lips on her forehead. "Have you eaten today?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. "Not much. But I'm hungry – really hungry. I think I could manage some soup. Maybe some bread. And warm milk. Maybe some pie?"

John smiled. "Okay, let's see what mother has arranged." He lifted her head up and gazed at her softly. "Okay now?"

She sniffed and nodded.

John looked at his mother. "Good evening mother. Is dinner nearly ready?"

Margaret looked up and saw Hannah Thornton standing in the doorway. A faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she looked at John and Margaret. She loved the ebbs and flows of domesticity as well. Her son was finally happy, truly happy and anticipating becoming a father soon. And she was going to be a grandmother.

"It's ready now. I thought we could all do with an early meal. You both need to eat something." She knew how to look after her family.

"You're right of course - as usual. Margaret is feeling very hungry and so am I. Margaret has a hankering for soup and bread and warm milk and some pie. Do you think she can be accommodated?" He smiled as he reeled off Margaret's list. He was sure whatever Margaret wanted would be available. He could always count on his mother to anticipate what was needed. It was almost uncanny but after so many years of her attentiveness, he was used to her efficient care.

Hannah smiled at the request. Hopefully, Margaret's appetite would continue to improve. Margaret had shown a preference for those things early on, so Hannah always made sure they were available. "Yes, of course. Cook made a nice beef stew – not too heavy along with a roast," she added knowing Margaret couldn't tolerate a heavy meal yet. "And there's fresh bread and apple pie and clotted cream," Hannah finished proudly. Margaret smiled. "Just eat slowly, Margaret, and you should be fine. A little at a time. No need to rush."

"Let's wash for dinner, shall we?" John suggested standing up, helping Margaret stand, and then wrapping an arm around her waist. "Mother we'll be back shortly after freshening up."

Hannah nodded and watched John and Margaret climb the stairs to their room. They shared a room right from the start of their marriage and showed no sign of discontinuing the practice. They grew closer every day. So much life to share as their love slowly unfolded, revealing itself quietly and steadily in every gesture.

She went to talk to the cook about the evening meal and asked Fanny's maid to let her know dinner was being served soon. When everything was arranged she went to her own room to wash for dinner. All was well. It would likely be an early evening for John and Margaret. They both looked tired, plus they liked to spend time alone in their room before bed. Hannah hummed to herself contentedly. A new baby would be here soon and they would be ready. She'd see to it.

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ADJUSTMENTS

John woke with a start. Margaret kicked his shin, again. He suffered nightly from her restlessness but held steadfast to his insistence that they continue to share a bed until she was ready to deliver. Hang convention – he kept watch like a soldier guarding a shipment of gold. She was his responsibility. Actually, they were his responsibility.

John felt excited, proud, and nervous simultaneously since learning Margaret was with child. In short order, he was a newlywed husband and a soon to be a first-time father. Yes, unquestionably wonderful – and terrifying. According to the doctor, he found two, strong, steady heartbeats inside Margaret's growing womb, which indicated twins. John hoped for a son and a daughter, but two daughters or two sons would be fine as well – more than fine. Now he just prayed for a healthy wife and two healthy children – safely delivered.

Margaret was large – alarmingly large and had trouble resting comfortably. John worried about her and their unborn children constantly. He always considered himself disciplined in thought and deed, and he always had been, on all other fronts. But he couldn't seem to push away the constant anxiety regarding anything and everything about Margaret's safety, welfare, and day-to-day existence. Even mundane activities were a source of concern. Basically, anything she did once she left the safety of their bed, much to the exasperation of his endearingly patient wife.

Each day she seemed to grow bigger. He requested that she remain in bed, surrounded by soft pillows. If she would just allow him to have his way in this one small thing he groused. But he didn't have his way, even though he tried to explain as calmly and as reasonably as possible, the need for caution. He felt his responsibility keenly from the very moment of their betrothal, but now, in her delicate, precarious condition, it was tenfold what it had been previously. Maddeningly, neither Margaret nor his mother thought bed rest surrounded by pillows necessary. Margaret refused to be confined. Well, John certainly thought it prudent. She was so large, he didn't know how she remained upright and worried that she would simply topple over at some point.

As it was, she needed help getting up from a chair and in and out of bed. And seeing her climb and descend stairs made his heart clench with fear. Though he tried not to appear anxious, the worry was etched on his face. What if she lost her footing? She could fall. That thought and other such worries assailed him. To calm himself he attended to her as much as possible and insisted she carry a bell to ring when she required assistance. He knew she found him overly attentive, but he couldn't help himself.

Trying to placate him, she promised to stay on the upper floors once she felt the stairs too difficult to manage. The confinement would start soon enough she assured him – over and over. Not soon enough for John though as a seemingly innocent nursery rhyme ran through his head and reminded him of his wife's vulnerability. Humpty-Dumpty sat on a wall…Humpty-Dumpty had a great fall… Confinement and a blockade of pillows couldn't come soon enough for his peace of mind.

Doctor Donaldson estimated the due date to be another 6 weeks, at the outside. Although he cautioned that Margaret might deliver early since that often happened with twins. John found himself hoping for an early delivery but then worried about an early delivery. And so his thoughts went – around and around. Worries and unsettling nursery rhymes. It was mentally exhausting.

Margaret had become extremely restless in the past week. He often woke from a kick or from covers thrown over his head when she flailed and cast them off because she was too hot. He would carefully replace them of course, worried she would become chilled. His shins and calves were peppered with bruises – some sore and fresh and others faded and yellowed, dissipated of their former tenderness. Margaret kicked forward and backward. At least he finally thought to put a pillow between them, so she would hit that instead. The muffled strike still woke him though.

John sighed and looked at the window. It was still dark, but now he was wide awake. Quite awake. He started to quietly extricate himself from the bed, trying to shift his weight gently so as not to wake Margaret. As soon as his legs were over the side and he was about to slide to the floor, he felt her hot little hand on the small of his back. She was like a furnace at night. Then during the day, all the heat retreated inward and her hands and feet were cool – chilled even. It was strangely unnerving.

"John?" Margaret asked groggily.

He turned and pulled her hand into his. "Yes, sweetheart, do you need anything?"

She blinked sleepily and gazed at him a moment, feeling a tenderness that made her realize how much she had come to love her serious husband. Slowly, quietly, and completely he had taken hold of her heart. He was such a good man. Although his anxiety and constant attentiveness was tiring and she worried about his health. He didn't sleep or eat enough. She had actually asked the day before for a sleeping draught to force him to rest. Hannah Thornton knew of it as well. They were in agreement. If John couldn't calm himself, they would insist he take the draught – hopefully willingly, but if not, it would find its way into his tea one night. John was their responsibility after all. In that, the two women were firmly united.

"No, I'm fine. I just wish you would rest a while longer. You need to sleep more than you have been," she gently chided.

"Once I'm awake, I find it difficult to get back to sleep. I'm wide awake now," he admitted.

"Did I kick you again?" she asked, sure he would deny it and knowing she couldn't help it either. Her body grew and changed and rumbled in ways it never had before. She simply accepted the changes and tolerated whatever discomfort came with her pregnancy. Really, what else could she do but be a patient observer? She couldn't wait to be a mother and meet her babies. But she did wish John wasn't so anxious. And she felt bad about the bruises on his shins and calves. He brushed off her guilt when she remarked on the bruises though; claiming it was nothing and then adamantly refusing to sleep separately when she suggested he might rest better alone. He said she could kick him in the head and he would still insist they share a bed.

"You kicked the pillow," he smirked, surprising her with his honesty.

"Lay with me a while, won't you? I'd like to talk about…a few things."

"All right." He slid back under the covers and lay on his side, facing her. He stroked her belly softly as he waited for her to tell him or ask him whatever it was she wanted.

Margaret had thought long about how to ease John's worries. She and Hannah discussed him often. They decided on the sleeping draught as a needed, albeit temporary measure, but she wanted to talk to John and see if they could come up with anything else that might comfort him – short of her staying in bed all day, every day surrounded by pillows of course.

"You're a good husband John, and you'll be a good father."

He smiled, still stroking her belly. "You've made me the happiest of men Margaret. I don't know how to describe what I feel – the fullness is…well, words aren't enough." He leaned over and kissed her forehead, tucking a loose lock behind her ear.

Margaret placed her hand over his, even as he continued to stroke her. Suddenly, one of the babies kicked. John started, but then leaned down and kissed her belly tenderly, cooing softly, "Hello little one. We were just talking about you."

"It seems mother and children are want to kick," she teased.

"Perhaps our children are as anxious to be with us as we are to be with them," John suggested, gazing longingly at her stomach.

"Yes, and I imagine they want a little room to stretch out. Our babies are getting big."

John nodded. "It won't be too much longer – a little more than a month. I don't know how you manage walking. You bear it well, but I know there is much discomfort." He wanted to ask again that she stay in bed, or at least stop traversing the stairs, but he held back to see what else she wanted to say first. Of course he would ask – she knew it and he knew it. It had become an almost daily occurrence.

Margaret brushed his cheek with the back of her hand. "It worries me that you aren't sleeping fitfully or eating enough. It won't do to make yourself unwell."

"I'm fine Margaret, truly. I feel more joy than I ever thought possible, but I worry about your health and safety constantly. How can I not? I can't bear the thought of anything happening to you or the babies." He sighed heavily. "But I will try my best to be less anxious. I would feel much better if you would stop using the stairs though. It's my biggest concern." He looked at her hopefully and waited.

Margaret knew John would bargain. He was a businessman; it was in his blood to barter for what he wanted. She had already decided to stop going up and down the stairs after seeing Doctor Donaldson. He advised her it was time for as much bed rest as she could tolerate, although he wanted her to walk up and down the hall every day for brief periods so she maintained mobility. He expected the babies to drop lower in the womb soon and she would need to stay off of her feet to ease the pressure and prevent an early delivery. The closer she was able to carry the babies to full term the better.

"I will agree to stay above the ground floor and off of the stairs. Dr. Donaldson has recommended a daily routine that includes walking for short periods, which I can do in the upstairs hallway. It's important to maintain some activity as long as I don't have any pain or feelings of pressure low in my stomach or back. He said I can begin my confinement whenever I feel ready, but it should be fairly soon." John looked immediately relieved and squeezed her hand.

She continued, "I will begin my confinement today, as long as you will assure me of your willingness to help ease my concerns."

John's brow furrowed. "I will do anything for you Margaret, you should know that."

Margaret squeezed his hand in return. "Thank you, yes, I do know you are devoted to me. What I want is for you to recover your strength." She shook her head to stop the objection he started to make.

"John, you look tired because you are tired. You've barely slept for weeks. If you want to continue to share a bed even though I constantly wake you with my restlessness and kicking, I will not object as long as you take sleeping draughts to ensure you sleep soundly for a decent number of hours every night. If I need anything and you are asleep, I will ring for someone. Otherwise, I will insist on sleeping in the mistress bedroom alone. Also, I want you to eat more, every day until you are back to your normal weight. Don't think I haven't noticed how loose your clothes have gotten." Margaret looked at him expectantly.

John considered Margaret's demands thoughtfully for a few moments. While he didn't like the idea of sleeping draughts, he would agree to practically anything to get Margaret to start her confinement and stay off the stairs. He also begrudgingly acknowledged to himself he needed more rest and regular meals. And he didn't want to sleep apart. Ever. However, he didn't want to acquiesce entirely. One should always leave some wiggle room in a negotiation. He stroked her belly as he thought of his reply.

"I will agree to try the sleeping draughts for a few nights and see how I feel. If I don't find the sleeping draughts agreeable but still need more rest, I will sleep on a separate cot or mattress, in this room. That way, I will be nearby. I promise to eat more as well. Does that sound reasonable?"

"Yes John, I think we have reached a solution agreeable to both of us." She tried to look and sound serious, as if they reached a business arrangement, but she couldn't help her smirk. Or the obvious happiness in her voice.

"Good. So, starting today, no more stairs?" he confirmed.

"Yes, no more stairs as of today."

John grinned, "I feel less anxious already."

"I'm glad because you'll need your strength and I'll need your strength," Margaret countered, smiling.

"Since the due date is so close, we should really start thinking of names for our children, don't you think? Two boys names and two girls names. It would be perfect to have a boy and a girl, wouldn't it?" John asked.

"Yes, that would be ideal," Margaret agreed. "Let's make a list together later today."

"Okay – after supper – either here in our room or in the upstairs parlor," John suggested, making sure to reaffirm they would be on the upper floor, either way. That and the reminder that they shared a room. Mistress room indeed. John thought they could put that room to good use as a nursery. But that was a conversation for another day - no need to put a fine point on the subject at the moment.

"Yes John, no stairs," Margaret acknowledged, in response to his not so subtle reminder. John smirked, glad that she so readily adjusted to the "no stairs" condition.

"Will you be able to fall asleep if I rub your head as I used to when you could still lay on my lap?" Margaret asked, now pressing her firm condition of more rest for her haggard-looking husband.

"I'm very willing to try. I have always found it soothing."

"Lay on your back," Margaret instructed, shifting so she could run her fingers gently through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp the way he liked.

John sighed contentedly. He never felt more relaxed or at ease than when Margaret gently stroked his scalp.

"I love you, wife of mine," John murmured as Margaret soothed him to slumber.
"I love you as well, husband of mine," Margaret said softly. Within minutes, John was sleeping, snoring softly with a smile still gracing his face. Margaret kissed his forehead and made sure the pillow was in place near his shins, just in case, before laying down again to sleep a while longer.

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MR. AND MRS. THORNTON

It was nearly time to go home, and John and Margaret stood at the edge of the room talking together. The evening's dinner was one in a series hosted by a Milton mill owner. All the owners who wanted to partake took turns, throwing lavish dinners, one after the other, every 3rd weekend from the end of September until everyone in their group hosted their event. Tonight, John and Margaret were attending the dinner hosted by Slickson. In three weeks, they would take their turn and host a dinner at Marlborough Mills.

Margaret turned toward the wall and discreetly tugged the lace up from her bodice. John smirked at the gesture.

"It's not funny. I feel as if I am about to spill out of this dress," Margaret grumbled. Their newborns, Evan and Emily, were nearly six months old and she was swollen with breast milk. Heavily swollen. She added lace to her new dress, to make it more modest, but she couldn't get used to the size and weight of her breasts. They were enormous. No older dresses could cover her motherly bosom – now easily 50% bigger, if not more than it had been previously. This was all much to the endless delight of her attentive husband – John happily mentioned her new endowments – often, with great affection.

"You're well-covered sweetheart. I'm the only one who knows what delicious, ample flesh lies under that lace," he offered in a low, husky voice accompanied by a wide, wolfish grin. He had that look – bedroom eyes, that's how Margaret described it - and she was immediately beset with feelings and images of their earlier intimacy – before they finally dressed for dinner. If Hannah Thornton didn't share their house, acting as their social conscience, Margaret thought they might not have left the house at all, such was their fervor. Sometimes, they just couldn't get enough of each other.

"Oh, I'm sure it's an easy guess from anyone looking from the front or the side, and you husband, are a scamp," Margaret declared as a blush overtook her face and then spread down her neck. John's words were embarrassing, but pleasing all the same. He always made her feel desirable and their shared passion grew stronger every day.

"Yes wife, your scamp," John admitted, still grinning and then kissing her forehead affectionately.

Margaret suddenly leaned into John and quietly whispered, "Sweetheart, do you need a moment of privacy?" John looked surprised at the question but noted the impish glint in her eyes. He became wary and narrowed his eyes as his head tilted in question. Margaret's eyes were shining and it was obvious she was trying not to laugh. John followed her glance before she looked down, demurely. At least that was how she appeared to anyone watching, but she was just trying to hide her mirth from any onlookers. He managed a furtive glance in the general direction of where she looked.

"Don't you dare leave me alone with her," John growled. Margaret clasped her hand over her mouth and leaned her head on his arm, muffling an indecorous snort.

Ann Latimer walked determinedly toward them from across the room. They had managed to avoid her all evening, mostly due to John's alert efforts. She still carried a torch for him apparently, much to John's dismay.

"I'm serious Margaret," he warned, slightly panicked. John slid his arm tightly around her, to hold her at his side – just in case.

Margaret dabbed her eyes and breathed deeply, dissipating the giggles she felt bubbling to the surface.

"Don't worry – I'm not going anywhere. Why she continues to try to get your attention is beyond me, since you're married, with children no less, and will never, ever, be more than just polite to her," Margaret said, smiling sweetly.

"That's all I ever was," John said defensively.

Margaret patted his hand, clenched determinedly on her waist. "Of course, but you were the catch of Milton after all. The women were simply besotted, from what Fanny and your mother told me. That was mostly before my time, but for Ann Latimer, you were a Siren – or whatever the male version of a Siren is."

"Margaret…."

"Oh, I don't blame her. If she had the chance to throw herself in front of you during a riot, she might have won your overly protective hand," she teased.

"You had my hand and my heart well before that day my love," John said with one of his intense looks that made her stomach flutter. He quirked his brows and watched her reaction. Tease me about that, John thought smugly.

Margaret looked shocked. "I…what?"

"The riot was the perfect excuse for a quick wedding, but I was going to ask for your hand regardless. It was just a matter of when. Except for you getting hurt, that riot was providence, because it brought you to me sooner than I could have hoped."

Margaret gaped at him, speechless. She never suspected he felt so much, so early in their acquaintance. Before she could reply, Ann Latimer was standing in front of them, looking at them expectantly, and at John a bit wistfully. Margaret felt John's arm tighten around her.

"Good evening Miss Latimer," John greeted her politely. Margaret acknowledged her silently with a nod and a small smile.

Ann Latimer was a puzzle. Even when he was still single John never had any interest in her and very firmly extracted himself from her obvious scheme to become his wife. Now that he was happily married, she acted like they were old friends. They never had been and they never would be. It was awkward and altogether strange. Although he didn't reveal it to anyone but Margaret, Ann made him uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. Margaret found it humorous, mostly because she could tease him about it, not because she sought to ridicule Ann. She found Ann Latimer's behavior odd as well and felt a little sorry for her. But what did she think to gain by continually seeking John out?

"Good evening Mrs. Thornton, Mr. Thornton," she replied brightly.

"Good evening Miss Latimer. Did you have a pleasant night?" Margaret asked.

"Oh yes, it's been nice seeing everyone. I haven't seen some of my friends for an age; most of them are married now, except for Miss Hamper."

Unfortunately, Ann was having a difficult time deciding on a husband. There were plenty of men available and willing to offer – she was a pretty girl, educated, with pleasant manners, and a substantial dowry, but she always compared possible suitors to John Thornton and found them lacking. Her father was growing impatient with her indecision, although luckily he had no idea why she wouldn't make a choice. He thought she had simply become flighty or perhaps fearful of marriage, but soon he would insist that she choose a husband, otherwise he would choose for her. She was of age. It was expected.

Ann kept seeking John out in the hope that if she just saw him and talked to him one more time she could put him behind her – finally be free from thinking about him so much. She didn't want to cause any trouble between John and Margaret – they were obviously very happy together and well suited. She just wanted to finally get over John Thornton – he had been her obsession for years. She couldn't believe it when he married Margaret so quickly after she came to Milton from London. Ann waited for years to gain his notice. She started dreaming of being his wife when she was only a girl, well before she went abroad for finishing school. Then she came back and he married within months of meeting Margaret. It was devastating. She didn't want these feelings but she didn't know what to do about it. She knew it was foolish. It was frustrating and embarrassing.

"My husband and I were just talking about the first days of our betrothal. It all goes by so quickly, once you decide to marry, there is a flurry of activity and then suddenly you have a whole new family."

"Yes, and in our case, two little ones soon after," John said, looking lovingly at Margaret.

Margaret smiled, squeezing the hand that was still tightly grasping her waist.

"Oh yes, how are your twins?" Ann asked quickly.

"Perfect," John said proudly.

"Bigger every day," Margaret added.

John cleared his throat. "We were just thinking we should go home soon and settle them for the night." He wouldn't share the personal details of course, but Margaret would want to feed the twins soon. They had a wet nurse, but she preferred to do most of the feedings. It also gave her heavy breasts some relief before she went to bed. Although John willingly and eagerly helped relieve that pressure sometimes. He loved to suckle...

Margaret noticed the darkening of John's eyes and could guess where his thoughts led him.

"Yes, we aren't used to being away for any length of time. This has been one of our longest evenings apart from them since they were born," Margaret explained, hoping to soften their fast retreat.

"I'm sure you're anxious to see them, it was probably hard to leave at all. I noticed people started leaving about a half-hour ago. I imagine most people will leave soon. The Slickson's are near the door, saying goodnight to guests," Ann offered graciously, knowing John and Margaret wanted to end the conversation. She hoped this was the last time she would feel compelled to see or speak to John Thornton. She could only pray for it to be so.

John looked at Margaret with relief. "Shall we say our goodbyes to Fanny and Watson and then find mother?

"Yes, then we should be home within the hour, which would be perfect timing for the babies bedtime."

"Good evening Miss Latimer. Give our best wishes to your family," John offered kindly. Margaret smiled and nodded.

"It was lovely seeing you both. All my best to your family as well," Ann said with a bashful smile, before quickly walking away.

John let out a long sigh. "Well, that wasn't too bad."

"No, I think she may finally be ready to let you go," Margaret said thoughtfully.

"We never had any kind of understanding, that's what's so strange. She was just Latimer's young daughter, I never thought of her as anything else."

"Well, she definitely thought about you. She is young though, you might be the first man she was ever smitten with," Margaret suggested.

"So are you, young that is, at least in years, but I never thought of you as being too young to pursue. I noticed your maturity right away."

"Is that what attracted you to me?" Margaret asked, curious about his earlier declaration regarding his intentions.

John grinned. "Sweetheart, there are many, many reasons, one of which is the heart wants what the heart wants. I fell for you so quickly it made me nervous. I liked arguing with you. I liked your intelligence. I liked your devotion to your family. I admired your beauty and your lovely figure…" He laughed when she swatted his hand and blushed.

"I had no idea you had that kind of regard – you hid it well," Margaret confessed.

"Feelings for you overcame me so fast. I didn't know how you felt about me – you were well-mannered and gracious, but acted in a way that was completely proper for an acquaintance. I didn't know if you would consider my suit, but I decided to earn your affection and seek a courtship. Then the riot happened and it was resolved for us."

"I was so nervous about marrying you without a courtship. I thought you were a good man certainly and very kind to my mother and father – and I liked looking at you as well. That was a nice bonus," she smirked. "Once we were betrothed, I found myself developing tender feelings for you very quickly. Maybe they were already there, and I just didn't realize it because I have always been concerned about behaving properly and being cautious about my feelings?"

John brushed her cheek tenderly. "I think we were meant to be and we were fortunate to marry quickly. I can hardly remember my life before you and our babies. It keeps getting better and better."

"I'm grateful every day for you and our life together and finding such unexpected happiness. And now, we should say our goodbyes, find mother, and get home to our babies. Otherwise, I really will spill out of this dress. I'm not kidding."

"I'd love to see that – but definitely not until we get home," John teased and pressed his lips to her forehead.

They hooked arms and moved towards the door to make their departure, looking for Fanny and Hannah Thornton, and already hoping to leave as quickly as possible so they could be safely at home with their little ones again.