For the rest of the day Thornton did his work as if half in a dream. There were many demands on his time: explaining his present circumstances to Huely; quelling rumors that were already spreading to his creditors; planning for how and when to speak to his workers. He also had to ensure that he would be able to meet payroll one last time. The day was harried, with barely a moment for reflection, and underlying it all was the bitter sting of disappointed hopes. The world he had spent years building up was crashing around him. In a few short weeks it would be no more, and then he would have to start again, clawing his way up from the bottom once again.

But then his mind would turn to Margaret, the woman who had promised to live with him as his wife from now on. How marvelous, how generous and gracious she had been in the face of his failure! And how quickly she had rallied to his side! The rest of his life he would remember that in his darkest moment of despair she had expressed faith in him. In his mind's eye he could still picture the tenderness on her face when she put her arms around his neck. A man would give a lifetime of wealth just for the joy of such a moment!

Life would be hard for a long time, he doubted not. With the loss of the mill he would also lose his position in society. He and Margaret would have to find smaller, meaner accommodations in a less fashionable part of town. There would be no more annual dinners hosted at Marlboro Mills, no more rings of respectful men gathered around him to hear his opinions on business or industry. Yet he knew he could face all that with equanimity now that Margaret was on his side.

So he reeled between the two realities all afternoon. As he signed invoices he saw Margaret's clear blue eyes barely inches from his own. While he gave instructions to Huely he heard Margaret's sweet voice in his ear. And when he spread his ledgers with their pitiful sums out on the desk in front of him he remembered the feel of her skin in the palm of his hand and the softness of her hair against his cheek.

He left the mill earlier than he should have and yet far later than he would have liked. The lamps had already been lit and he felt the chill of the night air as he quickly crossed the yard. When he entered the house he looked eagerly for Margaret, expecting her to be waiting for him in the parlor, but there was no sign of her. He followed the sounds and smells of cooking into the kitchen and found Dixon alone. She greeted him politely but did not stop stirring whatever was on top of the stove.

Thornton did not pause to make idle chatter. "Where is my wife?" he asked directly.

"At Nicholas Higgins' house."

He burrowed his eyebrows together. "What is she doing there at this time of night?"

"She had a message from Higgins that one of the children was sick. She went straightaway to see him. Said to tell you she would be back as soon as she could."

Thornton could have howled in disappointment. He had been waiting all day to see Margaret, and now she was on one of her errands of mercy! Yet it was just like her to put the needs of others before herself. Of course she would go to the aid of a sick child. "Which child was it? And what seems to be the matter?"

"Little Thomas, the youngest. Higgins said he came down with the putrid throat two days ago and has been failing ever since."

At once Thornton chided himself for his selfish reaction. How anxious Higgins must be, knowing that life in the rough neighborhood of Princeton took many lives before their time! How anxious he himself would be if one his own children were to become gravely ill. Suddenly he was grateful that Margaret had such a compassionate heart, even if it meant he would sometimes have to share her attention with others.

"Would you like me to serve you dinner now, Mr. Thornton?"

"No. We will eat when Mrs. Thornton returns."

Famished though he was, he would still gladly wait for her. Briefly he contemplated going to Higgins' house to find her, but since he did not know which way she had taken they might pass each other by without knowing it. Instead he walked restlessly into his study. There was always correspondence to tend to.

In his mind's eye he pictured how he and Margaret would come together tonight. He would hear her footstep on the threshold and go to meet her. With any luck she would come straight into his arms and he would greet her properly, the way a husband should greet the wife he had longed for all day. He would lift her face to his and taste the delights of her lips again. With neither mother nor sister in the house he could hold her as long as he wanted, with no fear of interruption. If Dixon happened upon them and had any sense at all, she would simply turn and walk away.

Then he would take Margaret's coat and hang it up. They would go into the dining room together and sit down for dinner. While they ate they would have pleasant conversation, but they would also share tender looks and eloquent silences. And after dinner they would go upstairs together for the first time. Thornton silently blessed his mother for her gift of privacy. There would be no interruptions over dinner and no embarrassment at the breakfast table tomorrow. They were finally free to be together the way they should have long ago.

He realized that he had been daydreaming and shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. The letters he needed to write would not take long, but hopefully he could draw them out until it was almost time for Margaret to be home. He pulled out the chair in front of his desk, the same desk where Margaret had sat earlier that day, and reached for his quill and a piece of foolscap.

Daylight was long gone when Margaret managed to pull herself away from Nicholas and his young charge. The child was still sick but the canker root Margaret had placed under his tongue, a remedy she had learned from her mother, seemed to open his throat and relieve his symptoms. Margaret had stayed with him until the child fell into a natural sleep, his deep breaths coming evenly and without a struggle. Then she gave Nicholas detailed instructions for his care, accepted his effusive thanks, and hurried home through the darkened streets, anxious to see her husband again.

Only an urgent request from Nicholas could have pulled her away from Marlboro Mills on this momentous day. If it weren't for his urgent message she would still be anxiously awaiting Thornton's return from the mill office. Was it selfish, she wondered, to gaze down at the young boy at such a time and wonder what her own children would look like one day? For surely, now that she and Thornton were going to be truly united, she could look forward to a family of her own. Life would be very sweet, now that she and Thornton were finally on a firm footing!

Margaret's heart leapt in anticipation as she opened the front door of her home. The entry way was empty, with no sign of her husband. She quickly removed her coat and handed it to Dixon, who had come to meet her. "How is the child, Miss Margaret?" the servant asked.

"He is well. I expect he'll make a full recovery." Margaret answered almost mechanically, looking past Dixon into the darkened parlor. There was no sign of Thornton there either. "Did the master come back from the mill yet?"

"Oh, yes, he's been back for two hours! He asked about you and I gave him your message."

"Thank you, Dixon. Where is he now?"

"Sitting right there in his study. In a strange mood, he is."

Margaret gave her a curious look. "What do you mean?"

Dixon lowered her voice as she took a half step closer. "He seemed well enough when he first came home. I gave him your message. He said he'd wait for you for dinner and went into his study. I kept on cooking and next thing you know, when I looked in on him to ask he'd like a cup of tea, he's pacing about the room like a wild animal. Didn't hardly hear a word I said! Took me calling his name three times to get his attention, and when he finally did answer he near bit my head off! Then he sat down again with his head in his hands, like it's hurting him or something. I can't rightly understand him."

Margaret's heart ached for her husband. What a dreadful day this had been for him. "Don't be too harsh on him, Dixon. He has had troubles today that you know nothing of."

"So you know what's going on, then? Is there any truth to those rumors I've been hearing?" Dixon looked at her fearfully.

"I don't know what rumors you mean, and it's not right to gossip about the master in any case." Margaret kept her voice firm. "We will have dinner in a few minutes. Please do whatever needs to be done before then."

Dixon nodded and bustled away but not without several furtive glances back at her mistress. No doubt she was fearful for her job if she had heard any rumors about the mill's demise.

Margaret went into the study, noticing at once that most of the room was in the dark. Only one lamp was lit; the others had either been allowed to go out or had perhaps not been lit at all. The room had a chilly feel to it and she realized that the fire, too, was burning low. She had to wait for her eyes to adjust to the dim before she made out her husband standing by the window. His back was to her, his arms folded over his chest.

"John?" she called hesitantly, taking a step towards him. "John, I am home." His mannerism was odd, she thought. After the warmth of their embrace this morning, she would have expected him to be waiting at the door.

Thornton turned to face her, his arms still folded. She could barely see his face in the dark. "Yes, I can see that."

"I am glad to see you," she offered, stepping eagerly towards him. She had a vague idea that he would move to meet her and sweep her into his arms, but instead he remained still, watching her. She stopped in her tracks. "Did Dixon tell you where I was?"

"You were with Higgins," he answered flatly, and Margaret nodded, not understanding his reserve. Was he angry that she had not been waiting for him when he came home? "How is the boy?" he added.

"He is better. We feared for his breathing but he seems to have made a turn now."

Thornton nodded once and Margaret took another step towards him. "I am sorry that you had to wait for me to come back," she said. "I wanted to be here, but I could not turn away from a child in need."

"Think nothing of it." Thornton's voice was cool, distant. "You went where you were needed. You should get dinner. You must be hungry by now."

"Dinner? But-" she faltered. She could not comprehend the distance he was keeping. It was far more than the six or seven feet between them. "I thought you would be waiting to see me."

"It has been a long day and I am tired," he answered. "I only stayed downstairs long enough to make sure you came home safely. I am going to retire now."

It was as though a door had been slammed in her face. "What is wrong?" she asked, taking the final steps to his side. "After this morning, I thought things were different between us."

Thornton flinched as if he had been struck. "I have had time to think. We both said things this morning that we did not mean. It would be better if we forget them."

"What?" she cried. "I do not agree with you! I meant every word of what I said!"

"What, exactly, did you say?" he demanded, his voice colder than ever.

"That I wanted to be with you, that I want to be your wife!"

"But not that you love me," he said pointedly.

Margaret stared at him, speechless. "Surely you understood that," she finally answered. Hurt and bewilderment were beginning to course through her. "Perhaps I did not speak as fluently as you, but you understood me well enough. And I understood you!"

Thornton shook his head. "I was overwrought this morning, distraught at realizing what has happened with the mill. I overreacted when you offered me your support. For that I apologize. When we married I promised that I would never impose myself on you, yet I did not keep my word. Rest assured I will honor it from now on."

"But it was not an imposition! I love you, John. I want to be with you!"

"Margaret," Thornton said warningly, "do not say things you do not mean."

By now tears were in her eyes. "I do not know why you are behaving this way, but I know how I feel about you! What must I do to convince you?" She placed her hand on his arm, pleading with him to believe her.

Thornton did not move. He stared down at the hand on his arm and swallowed hard. When he spoke again his voice was so low she had to strain to make it out. "Margaret, is there anything you wish to tell me?"

She could not imagine what he meant. "Nothing I have not said already."

He covered her hand with one of his own. For a moment it stayed there, lingering; then he removed her hand and put it away from him. "It would be best if we pretend this morning never happened." Hastily he left the room and went up the stairs, but as he brushed by her, Margaret was almost certain that there were tears in his eyes.

OK, I know you all must hate me now. *runs to duck behind heavy furniture* I promise that eventually our couple WILL get their happy ever after! Please let me know what you think! And have a great weekend! -Elaine