So a very merry hello to you all! Listen, I'm soooooo terribly sorry about how long it has taken me to write this chapter. Between life, and a new semester at school, it's been a handful for me to deal with. I'm taking this Medical Terminology course, and it's like, seriously kicking my ass. I don't know how many of you out there are studying for occupations in the Medical field, but it really blows. Anyways, enough about me, you don't' want to hear about my college education ;)
There was such an incredible response from my last chapter, and it really touched my heart to know that you enjoyed it that much, lol. There were many of you who commemorated me on how I used lots and lots of lines straight from the work of Gaskell herself, and I am super glad that so many of you have actually read the book! it's such an inspiring read, and for those who still haven't read it, that's why my writing seems so old fashioned at parts ;) Also, one soul kindly pointed out the fact that if Mr. Thornton had actually found Margaret unconscious, that he most likely wouldn't have carried her away, and hat even if he did it most certainly would not have been to her room...You are of course, quite right, and that thought never occurred to me for an instant. However, what's done is done, lol, so you must all forgive my stupidity on that part. Many of you also asked if the story would continue, and end how it was originally written. Probably not. I enjoy writing about John waaaaay too much to stop now. There will most likely be quite a few changes, but I do intend to keep using the original text all the way through.
LASTLY there will undoubtedly be an appalling number of typo's and errors in this chapter. I've got 7 pages already, but my computer is a little frazzled at the moment, so I am borrowing a computer from someone. Well I shouldn't really call it a computer; it's a stupid little net book with the smallest keyboard ever created, NO Microsoft Word (yes I'm typing this Chapter in the FF publish section, kill me know, its such a pain in the ass), and the 't' and 'n' barely even work. So keep this in mind while you're reading. Once I get my computer back I can repost the chapter as it should be written, lol.
Enjoy, this chapter is going to be a long one =)
Chapter 3
Margaret resumed pacing in her bedroom and tried to calm herself. The thought of Mr. Thornton receiving news of her well-being, from her father no less, made her terribly uneasy. She realized that no matter what she had been telling herself, the certainty of his abhorrent opinion of her made her doubt everything. She knew beyond any inkling of doubt that Mr. Thornton had caught her in what was probably that only lie she had ever spoken. She selfishly wished he could just be some distant relation; someone she had no chance of seeing again. The abrupt reality of seeing him in person, seeing his expression of intense disappointment made her fear any meeting with him in the future, and she prayed that someway-somehow he could learn of Frederick without her having to be involved. Perhaps then he might not believe her to be so wholly untrustworthy. Her thoughts were interrupted by the ring of the doorbell below. Her heart resumed its usual thundering in her chest and she continued pacing. She heard Dixon coming up the stairs, and she became so intensely anxious that she had to hold on to the bed frame to keep herself standing. Dixon knocked once on the door before opening it.
"Miss Margaret, Mrs. Thornton is here to see you in the drawing room." Mrs. Thornton? She was immediately relieved and curiously saddened by the news, but her heart filled with warmth at the kindness of Mrs. Thornton taking time to call on her.
"Thank you, Dixon. I'll come down directly." Dixon left, and Margaret walked over to the wash basin and splashed the cool water on her face to refresh herself. Oh how her emotions were constantly betraying her! Try as she might, Margaret realized she would no be able to understand these conflicting feelings and it frustrated her beyond belief. She rubbed some more water on her face, and went downstairs to meet Mrs. Thornton.
"Mrs. Thornton, how good it is of you to call!" Margaret exclaimed upon entering the drawing room. Mrs. Thornton was slightly startled by soft kindness of Margaret's voice, and the serenity of her countenance. It was so purely genuine, that she found herself unable to recall the harsh words she had come to Crampton planning to say. They spoke for a for a little while of inconsequential things, and Margaret inquired after Fanny, and thanked Mrs. Thornton for the recommendation of Martha, their servant. Mrs. Thornton stood to leave, but paused as though she had something she was deliberating on making known.
"Miss Hale," she said slowly, turning to face Margaret again. "I have a duty to perform. I promised your poor mother that I would not allow you to act in any way wrongly, or inadvertently, without remonstrating. That is to say at least, without offering advice, whether you took it or not." Margaret's body betrayed her will by producing a furious blush, and making her look as bad as any culprit caught doing wrong. So this had been Mr. Thornton's doing; she felt angry at him for sending his mother to lecture her on the severity of her actions, but also intensely disappointment that he had not chosen to come confront her himself If he had, then she might be able to explain the situation well enough to him to restore his good opinion of her. Once more she suppressed her anger towards Mr. Thornton; his mother deserved none of it, and she claimed she was acting on her poor mother's wishes. Margaret was silent while waiting for Mrs. Thornton to continue.
"When one of my servant's told me that you were seen walking at Outwood Station with a gentleman, so late at night, and quite far from home, I could hardly believe it. It was…indiscreet to say the least; there have been many a young woman to lose their character before now-" Mrs. Thornton stopped upon glancing at Margaret's face, and she knew her composure was slipping. Her face grew hot, and her eye's flashed with fire. How could she, practically a stranger to Margaret, interfere with her conduct, and speak of her character in such ways? The impertinence of it made her stomach clench in anger. She would not deign Mrs. Thornton with a response. She must have noticed the battle in Margaret's eyes, for she continued in a rather antagonistic tone.
"For your poor mother's sake, I thought it right to warn you against such improprieties! They will degrade you in the long run, in the estimation of the world, even if they do not physically harm you."
"For my mother's sake?" Margaret said, her voice rising in pitch with her strained emotion. "I must bear a good deal, but I cannot bear everything; I'm quite sure that my mother never meant you to expose me to insult."
"Insult, Miss Hale!"
"Yes, madam, for it is an insult." Margaret replied coldly. "What do you think you know of me that should lead you to expect-" but Margaret could not continue, and was overcome with emotion for a moment. She hid her face behind her hands. "I understand perfectly now." she said bitterly, setting her hands in her lap, and turning her tear stained face towards Mrs. Thornton. "Whatever Mr. Thornton may have told you-"
"No Miss Hale." Mrs. Thornton interrupted sharply. "My son told me nothing. You know nothing of the man you rejected; you aren't worthy to know him. Would you care to know what kind of man you rejected?" she spoke to Margaret in a mocking, accusatory way. "My son, scorned by you, begged me just last night to come here; he told me he knew you to be dealing with 'some dread that must be a terrible torture to you' and said that you needed council that he himself would be unable to give. He refused to speak one word against you!" Margaret's face was buried in her hands again, and her body shook slightly with sobs. "Come Miss Hale, surely there is some explanation you can give me that would justify this; you do not seem like one to be to improper."
Margaret said nothing; even if she could regain control of her emotions long enough to reply to Mrs. Thornton, they had received no letter from Frederick of his safe departure from England.
"I will be sorry to have to break off acquaintance with you." Mrs. Thornton replied. "For Fanny's sake, as I told Mr. Thornton last night, if Fanny had done so, we would consider it a great disgrace, and should she be led astray-"
"I can give you no explanation;" Margaret replied in a low voice. "I have done wrong, but not in the way you imagine or imply. I feel Mr. Thornton must judge me less harshly than you, but I do believe you mean right."
"Thank you," Mrs. Thornton replied, drawing herself up. "I was rather unwilling to consent to it when your mother asked me. I did not approve of my son's attachment to you, even while I only suspected it. You didn't seem worthy to me. But when you exposed yourself as you did on the day of the riot, I felt it was no longer right to set myself against my son's wish of proposing to you. A wish, by the way, he had always denied entertaining until the day of the riot." Margaret winced, and drew in her breath with a long hissing sound, which Mrs. Thornton took no notice of. "I told him yesterday, short as the time in between was, that you must have finally had some word of this other lover-"
"Oh what you must think of me!" Margaret said bitterly, throwing her head back in proud disdain. "You can say nothing more Mrs. Thornton; I will not attempt to justify myself for any of your accusations, and you must allow me to leave the room." and without another word, she swept out of the room with the noiseless grace of an offended princess.
John was dressing for his visit with Mr. Hale somewhat anxiously when he heard the front door of the house slam with an impressive thump! Frowning slightly, he grabbed his cravat off the dresser, and began tying it on his way down the stairs. Halfway down he saw his mother storming past towards the sitting room. Still fumbling with his cravat due to his nerves, he hurried after her.
"Mother? Are you well?" he called after her, genuinely concerned. She sat forcefully in a chair by the window, and attacked her sewing with a vengeance.
"Where are you off to?" she asked with a determined calm that unnerved him.
"To Crampton; Mr. Hale asked if I could join them for dinner this evening." His mother remained silent for several moments, and John grew somewhat impatient. "Is something the matter?" Still not looking away from her work she replied:
"You might want to reconsider going to Crampton this evening."
"Now really, mother, I have already told you how I feel about Miss Hale's actions at Outwood Station. It will not prevent me from associating with her father." he spoke harshly, perhaps a little too harshly, for his mother instantly dropped her sewing and looked him full in the face.
"I have just come from Crampton, at your request I might add." she snapped. "She was, shall I say, less than pleased with what I had to say." John frowned. Then she added a little satisfactorily: "But no matter; she has done nothing to change my poor opinion of her."
"Mother I do not care to hear any of what you and Miss Hale spoke of." John said, and it was true; his mother's demeanor was enough to make him apprehensive of what she might have said to Miss Hale, at is own request. "Is there some particular reason you believe I should not call on Mr. Hale this evening?"
"Not particularly, no." his mother replied, resuming her work. "But I have serious doubts on the pleasure her company could give her; she was quite out of spirits." John scowled at her; she really did enjoy insulting Margaret every time she was presented with an opportunity.
"I must leave now, or I'll be late." he said a little irritably. He would be early if he left now, but he was a little annoyed with his mother, and wanted some time to think and clear his mind before seeing Margaret. She said nothing, and continued her work without looking at him.
He decided to take the long way there since he left so early. He was coming over the ridge of a hill when he spotted Mr. Hale a little ways ahead of him.
"Mr. Hale?" He said, surprised.
"John!" he replied pleasantly. "What coincidence! What brings you up here?" John smiled at his friend, and realized just how much he had missed his company.
"I was headed to your house actually," he replied. Mr. Hale chuckled.
"Well I am headed back there myself, we can walk together." They walked in silence for a few minutes before Mr. Hale spoke again. "I am glad you're joining us tonight, it has been a long while since we've had anyone over." John looked away feeling guilty. Even though Mr. Hale wasn't intentionally taking a jab at him, he still felt ashamed of his selfish actions.
"I'm sorry for being so negligent lately," John stated honestly.
"Not to worry, not to worry!" Mr. Hale replied jovially. "You're here now, and all is well, so think nothing of it." John smiled at the genuine kindness of his closest friend, but said nothing more, and they remained in companionable silence until they reached the main road.
"I honestly cannot thank you enough for coming on such short notice," Mr. Hale said, looking a little saddened. "I believe Margaret is having a difficult time recovering from her mother's death." John suddenly found his throat was dry and could make no comment at the moment. "She's spent so long looking after me that I feel there's little I could ever do to repay her for her kindness. I have always been a little too wrapped up in my own concerns, and my daughter has always been there taking care of me. It wasn't until you found her-" he paused for a moment, with a serious expression upon his face. John wished he could say something, anything to give some sort of reassurance to Mr. Hale but he couldn't find his voice. They remained in an awkward silence the remainder of the journey to Crampton.
Margaret shut herself in her room and began furiously pacing the length of it. She forced herself to replay the entire conversation over and over again in her head until she was satisfied that she had thoroughly examined every detail of Mrs. Thornton's speech. She felt humiliated that Mrs. Thornton could so easily believe such horrid things about her, and furious that she had so easily goaded her into losing her temper.
Well, she thought angrily. At any rate, her words cannot touch me; they will fall off me, because I am innocent of every slander she cast against my name. No, I will not be affected by her words. It was only after she had calmed down slightly that she realized the meaning of something Mrs. Thornton had said to her: "My son, scorned by you, begged me just last night to come here; he told me he knew you to be dealing with 'some dread that must be a terrible torture to you' and said that you needed council that he himself would be unable to give."
How could she ever face him again? There was no doubt now as to exactly what Mr. Thornton thought of her. That Frederick must be some lover she had run off to be with under the cover of darkness, in his eyes, she was no better than a common wench. The knowledge made her sick with shame and disappointment, and she paced more determinedly than ever. She heard the sound of the door opening downstairs, and knew her father must be home. She continued to pace and attempted to suppress every emotion she was feeling, if only for the sake of giving her father some bearable company during dinner. if it was up to her, she would skip the meal altogether try to understand why she was so overbearingly concerned what Mr. Thornton's opinion of her was. It seemed as though every time she heard of Mr. Thornton, it was about something he had done for her. He called off the investigation, told no one of her whereabouts that evening, refused to slander her character, and even still had the though that she herself might be dealing with too much, and sent her a confidant knowing that he could not be one himself. Oh she had misjudged him so terribly, and now it seemed she would never have the opportunity to redeem herself. She put her head in her hands and let out an extremely frustrated sigh. She heard her father calling softly for her from downstairs, and she walked with purpose out of her room, determined to take control of her situation as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
John tried in vain to suppress the ever increasing anxiety that had started burning in his stomach as he walked towards Crampton with Mr. Hale. It coiled inside him like a snake threatening to strike. As they turned onto the street that would lead them to Mr. Hale's home, John was suddenly unable to speak anymore, and the terrible burning anxiety had forced its way through his body to his heart which seemed to erupt with life at the intruding force. When they made it to the steps he could feel his hands shaking slightly and he quickly removed his hat from his head and began fiddling with the rim, thankful for the timely distraction. He watched Mr. Hale open the door and followed him inside, not daring to look around, terrified that he would see Margaret's beautiful eyes, and lose the last few ounces of self control he had left. by he time he had removed his coat and set his hat down, the coiling burning nerves inside him were so strong he couldn't even feel his face. He tried desperately to control himself, but he knew it was a pointless endeavor. There was a constant creaking noise coming from the ceiling above him that he had never heard before, and tried to focus on understanding what it might be, and hopefully calm himself down some. He glanced up at the ceiling, and then at Mr. Hale who was also looking upwards with a curious expression on his face.
"What on Earth?" he asked himself. Suddenly Dixon entered the room, and started slightly at the sight of her master and himself. She opened her mouth to say something but Mr. Hale cut her off, never taking his eyes off the ceiling. "What's going on up there, Dixon?" John saw Dixon cast an irritated glance at the ceiling before she answered him.
"It's Miss Margaret, sir." John's eyes snapped back up to the ceiling. "She's been in a right state nearly all afternoon; shut herself up there after M-" Dixon stopped suddenly, and glanced over at John before continuing. "Well, not much longer after you left, sir." John was willing to bet that it must have been the time his mother had been to see her. He suddenly felt a little guilty at having asked her to come to Margaret; his mother had obviously had some sort of effect on her, but whether it had been good or bad he would not know. He wasn't so sure he even wanted to.
"Ah," Mr. Hale said, frowning slightly as he had in the graveyard. "Thank you Dixon." John remained where he was, still looking at the ceiling, while Mr. Hale went to the foot of the staircase and called: "Margaret." It was quiet firm statement, not a yell, or question.
Instantly the noise from the ceiling stopped and John could hear her walking towards him through he ceiling, but she descended the staircase with noiseless grace.
The roaring nerves were back with a vengeance that could not be tamed. He watched her full form come into view, her eyes immediately going to her father and barely containing the myriad of emotions that he knew would torment him later. It appeared that she had not yet noticed he was even there. It wasn't long before she did however, and whatever reaction she had was lost on his mind the moment she looked into his eyes. As startlingly blue as ever, they looked so intently at him he felt as though she was piercing his soul. There was so much in her eyes, but had no idea how to identify what any of it actually was; she had never looked at him that way before. He glanced away from her, apprehensive of her expression, and not fully trusting himself to remain composed. Mr. Hale followed his daughters' line of sight and said quickly,
"Mr. Thornton has finally been able to take a moment away from his office, and spend here with us, Margaret. He's agreed to join us for dinner." he spoke quite cheerfully, and once more John was overwhelmed with guilt. It would seem as though he were doomed to feel little but regret and sorrow this evening, despite any efforts to the contrary.
"It is good of you to come Mr. Thornton." she said quietly, looking pointedly over at the coat rack to his left, with an unreadable expression on her face. He said nothing, trying to ignore the guilt burning in his gut.
The remainder of the evening went unexpectedly well for John, if one could assume that 'well' meant him feeling intensely uncomfortable being in Margaret's presence, whilst trying to be a good friend to Mr. Hale by keeping her company, a task which required him to actually speak to her. It was something he was finding incredibly difficult, not because he could think of nothing to say, but because he could not get past the expression she wore on her face since their eyes had met in the foyer. That expression of hurt and betrayal, mingled with her own guilt was very nearly making him lose his mind. Her eyes, which she would not bring up from the floor to meet his after their initial introduction, held every answer that he desperately needed.
Of all the days he could have chosen to finally come and see her father, it would have been this particular day; the day where she had resolved to be a better person to him for all of his kindness to her. The one day she would not be able to bring herself to do it, because of the one day his mother decided to visit. She was still in turmoil over their conversation, and was so lost in thought over the progression of the day that she could hardly focus on anything that was going on around her. If it had been but a day before, she might have found her heart skipping at Mr. Thornton's many attempts to begin a conversation with her. Today however, she had been visited by his mother, and all she could feel was the hurt that Mrs. Thornton's words had inflicted, the betrayal that she was talked about so negatively in the Thornton household, and the guilt for even feeling that way. She tried desperately the entire evening to suppress that feeling, to be grateful to Mr. Thornton for everything that he had done for her, even after she had rejected his proposal to vehemently, but she could not help but feel that way. She wanted nothing more than to earn back her good opinion with him, and it was incredibly hurtful to know that he had so very little faith in her character, that he asked his own mother to counsel her on what was 'proper'. She felt the stinging of bitter tears coming to her eyes and stood up rather suddenly.
"Forgive me father, Mr. Thornton;" she said quietly. "I am rather tired, and I think I shall retire. Goodnight." she swept from the room before either of the gentlemen could utter a response, and rushed up to her room where she fell onto her bed and cried herself to sleep.
A/N: Again, terribly sorry for any typos, spelling, grammatical, or any other such errors. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter; nothing super interesting in it you know, just one of those filler chapters, but it leads you somewhere great. I'm sorry it took so long...it's hard for me to write filler chapters... anyways, I love all you reviewers out there, and tell me whatcha think!