Chapter Ten

"Wait." John paused at the top of the stairs again, but did not turn around. "There's something else." John turned sharply towards Nicholas.

"What is it?" He asked, his voice quiet and his stomach filled with unease.

"Margaret is ill." John closed his eyes, but did not dare move. "You won't be able to see her." John turned abruptly on the spot, irritation seeping through in his voice.

"How do you know all this?" he snapped. He didn't have time to stand here and let Higgins clear his conscious. He had apologies to make and wrongs to right.

"I took her back to her father. She was at home with Mary when I got there." John shuffled back into the room, unceremoniously ripping his coat off and throwing it on his desk. "I've never seen her so out of sorts before, and I was afraid she wouldn't make it home on her own. Truth be told I'm not really sure how she made it out in the first place…"

"Then why did you bother telling me any of this tonight?" He yelled, having not heard Nicholas' last statement. "Surely you could've waited till tomorrow?" He threw himself back down in his chair and rubbed his face with both hands. Nicholas said nothing, but looked at him with that same curious expression about his face. There was nothing but silence in his office now. Silence and Nicholas' piercing gaze which John was trying desperately to avoid. Suddenly Nicholas stepped closer to him, and took a deep breath.

"I came here tonight," he said slowly and directly. "So you would have time to think, and to prepare." John stared at him incredulously. Time to think? He didn't need to think about it anymore; he'd done enough thinking about it to last him a year. He'd done plenty of thinking the last two times he was faced with marriage to Margaret Hale, and it had quite obviously done nothing good for him. He opened his mouth to say something back to him, but was cut off.

"I'll bid you good day, Master." Nicholas said quietly before disappearing through the door. John sat there staring at the empty space where Nicholas no longer stood, trying to understand what exactly was happening with his life. Before Margaret, everything was simple; he had an orderly and structured life, and had been happy. Now…now nothing made sense. He doubted himself constantly, he was absolutely, unutterably miserable, and he hated everything. He had never really hated anything before. He was turning into a bitter old man. A bitter old man that both loved and hated the woman he had been scorned by. He sighed before standing up and retrieving his coat once more. He might not be able to see Margaret, but he needed to see her father.

"Hello, Dixon. Is Mr. Hale in?" John stood on the threshold to Crampton, looking into the exceptionally disapproving gaze of Dixon, and fiddling with his hat nervously.

"Yes, but he is very busy at the moment." she replied, voice practically dripping with disdain. "I will tell him you called."

"Please Dixon, I need to see him." John replied quietly. He knew he deserved Dixon's disapprobation, and he hated the desperation he cuold hear in his voice.

"I can assure you, he is quite preoccupied this evening tending to Miss Hale." John visibly flinched at her stabbing words, but did not back down.

"I have to make this right." he said quietly, not meeting her eyes. "Even if I have to force my way past you, I will see Mr. Hale, and fix this." He could not bring himself to look at her, but he could feel her hard stare on his face. She moved then, bustling away from the door without a word and John hesitated only for a moment to close the front door behind him, tossing his hat and coat on the side-table on his way to the stairs. The house itself was completely silent, something that was lately unheard of. At any given time, you could always depend on the sounds of Dixon bustling away somewhere, and Margaret pacing in the drawing room that was directly above where he now stood. The first time he heard the sound, he had felt so terrible knowing that he was the direct cause of something so distressing to her that she could not even keep still. Over time however he had selfishly come to love the sound, and it brought him an unusual sense of peace. He relished its dependability, betraying to the world that somewhere in the house, Margaret Hale was there, thoughts completely consumed by only God knew what. It was as though he was witnessing something private about her life…something intimate that not many people knew of. It made him feel secure. Now he was met with silence. Silence, and disapproval.

He came to a stop behind Dixon, who knocked softly on a door. Looking around he realized that they were outside of Margaret's room, somewhere he had only been on one other occasion. An occasion he didn't particularly want to think about. He was distracted from his own thoughts by the sound of coughing within the room. He swallowed thickly, attempting to suppress his growing anxiety. Nicholas had told him that Margaret was ill and unable to receive visitors, but he hadn't actually given very much thought to how ill she actually might have been. To him, the idea of Margaret being ill-at least too ill to leave her bed-was unfathomable. She was strong, courageous, completely independent. She looked into the face to trial and tribulation, and was not afraid. The very thought of an illness taking hold of her was almost laughable. And yet he heard the very proof of it with his own ears, and it was deeply unsettling. He pushed these troubling thoughts aside, knowing that a time would come for him to face them head-on soon enough. For this moment however, he needed a clear mind.

"John." Mr. Hale said quietly after closing the door to Margaret's room. He looked at John more intently than he ever had, and John knew exactly what thoughts were running through Mr. Hale's mind.

"I'm sorry I've come unannounced," He said, guilt creeping into his tone against his will. "But I must speak with you." Mr. Hale looked him squarely in the face, and nodded just once.

"Yes," he replied solemnly. "Yes, I believe you must. Come." They walked in silence back to Mr. Hale's study where, upon entering, Mr. Hale sat down heavily in his chair, scrubbing a hand over his face wearily. John did not sit; he could not force his nerves down enough for him to remain that still. He settled for standing uncomfortably by the chair, fiddling with his hands behind his back. Mr. Hale looked at him expectantly, and was several minutes before John could bring himself to speak, guilt and nerves practically consuming him whole. When he finally could speak, his voice was quiet, shaky, and completely betraying his inner turmoil.

"H-how is Miss Hale?"

"I think you know how she is John, else you would not be here." Mr. Hale's tone was sharp and slightly accusatory, and it made him flinch ever so slightly.

"I'm sorry." He breathed, unable to speak any louder.

"What was that?" Mr. Hale asked. Whether he legitimately had not heard John speak, or was using this as some sort of retribution, he couldn't be sure.

"I-I was wrong," he tried once more, failing to keep the shaky breathlessness from his voice, but managing to speak a little louder than before. "I was wrong, and I'm sorry." Mr. Hale nodded slowly. "I have come, to-" he stuttered. "To set things right and, if you will allow it, to marry Miss Hale, and see this put behind her." Mr. Hale still looked at him piercingly.

"Why are you so certain that marriage would make things right? It seems to me that she is now past any point of redemption in the eyes of society." John had never hated anything more than he hated himself in this moment. Mr. Hale was right, in a way. There was no guarantee that Margaret would ever be accepted back in to society after this, even as his wife. Perhaps he was too late in this. Perhaps he had doomed Margaret to a life of solitude, and ostracism. So cast out from society that she could never marry anyone, never make new acquaintances, and would most likely soon be forced to take a position somewhere in Milton just to be able to eat. All because of him. So what was he to do now? Should he ask for her hand once more, knowing that he had backed her into this position and she would likely have no choice but to accept him, if for no other reason than to ease her father's troubled mind? Or should he leave her be to, as he said in his last conversation with Mr. Hale, live her life happily without the oppression of a forced marriage? Either way, things did not work out well for Margaret in regards to her happiness. But he could not, would not, stand by and watch her be persecuted in his name, and by his actions. He did not care what happened to his own reputation in the process, he would make this right.

"I have no idea." He said, the shakiness in his voice gone, and his words etched with a determined firmness. "But I will not stand by and watch this happen to your daughter. I will give her a way out of this wretched darkness that has descended on your family by my actions and in my name, and if she does not accept me still, than I will know I have done right by you both." There was a long pause in which both men stared at each other, as though trying to read into the others' thoughts.

"You told me before that a marriage to you would destroy her." Mr. Hale said slowly. John nodded. "Do you still believe that?"

What kind of question was that?

John suddenly found himself inexplicably angry.

"I would not have said it if I did not believe it!" he snapped. Mr. Hale looked slightly taken aback at his abrupt change in demeanor. "Not that it matters what I believe," he continued, pacing back and forth in a somewhat distracted manner. He didn't notice the expression that Mr. Hale wore. In fact, he didn't notice anything, really. He had been suppressing this for so long; stuffing everything in a jar and forcing the lid shut over and over again. That jar was now so full that the small admission he had just let through was enough to blow the lid off completely, and let it's contents explode from within. "Everything I have done in regards to your daughter has only brought her hardship. I have no reason to believe that this could possibly bring her any joy. Peace, maybe; but not happiness. She has already made that quite clear to me. While I could never forgive myself for snatching away her happiness, I can learn to live with it, if marriage to me would bring her peace." John stopped pacing, his body still turned away from Mr. Hale, and his chest heaving with his rapid breathing. He turned his head upon his last statement and looked sharply at his friend. "If she would accept this offer of her own free will, knowing that it is an offer of companionship and nothing more, knowing that I will expect nothing of her that she is not willing to give…then it might not destroy her. Until that day, I will bear the front of this burden for her as is my duty, and as I told you before, I will not shirk my duty towards her. " Mr. Hale looked at him in astonishment.

"Very well, John." He replied, his tone surprised and his expression still slightly bewildered. "I will speak to my daughter when she wakes, and I will tell her of your proposition."

"Thank you." John replied, his shoulders lifting as though a weight had been removed. He turned to his friend and held out his hand, which was quickly grasped by Mr. Hale.

"You owe me no thanks John," Mr. Hale spoke sincerely. "It is I who should be thanking you for being the honorable man you are." Mr. Hale opened his mouth again but paused, seemingly searching for the right words. "This is not the first offer of marriage you have made to my daughter, is it?" John sighed loudly.

Of course Mr. Hale would ask him that.

"No," he replied at long last. "No it is not."

"Margaret." A soft voice was calling her name. Over and over it called to her, but she could not answer it. She so tired.

"Margaret, my dear wake up." She recognized her father's voice through the haze of her mind, and forced her eyes open.

"Papa." She said, voice croaking from lack of use. Blearily she looking into the concerned face of her father, sitting at her bedside with a glass of water he was currently offering to her. She gratefully accepted it.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, placing the water on the side table and raising a hand to her forehead.

Horrible. "Fine." She replied. "I'm sure it's only a matter of time." He nodded slowly.

"Mr. Thornton came by earlier." Her father began conversationally. Margaret luckily did not have the energy to show her shock on her face, but she could not, no matter how she wished to, control the sudden racing of her heart.

"Oh?" She managed, although somewhat breathlessly. She had been doing everything in her power to not think of Mr. Thornton, however fruitless an endeavor that might have been. Everywhere she went his name followed her on the whispers of those around her. "Has he come back to resume lessons with you?" She took a few deep breaths while she waited for his reply.

"No," he replied slowly. "He came, to offer you a place in his home." Margaret stared at him. "By his side. As his…wife…" Her father trailed off uncertainly, but held her gaze. Margaret's eyes were wide with shock and she could hardly breath. She was dreaming. She must be dreaming. And why was her father telling her this? Shouldn't Mr. Thornton be asking her himself?

"What?!" She gasped.

"He is offering you a way out." Her father replied. "A way to put a stop to the terrible things that have been said of you. A chance to reestablish your character, and a chance at a life of stability."

"Stability!" Margaret cried. Out of everything that had been said, this made her the most angry. As if he was showing her exactly how much better he was than her, in wealth and position. It was extremely pompous.

"Well," he interjected quickly. "He never mentioned stability, but it's an implication nonetheless." Margaret continued to star at her father in a mild state of shock. "He specifically wanted you to know that he is offering companionship, and peace in your life. He says he will ask nothing of you, that you are not willing to give." Margaret's face reddened instantly at the unspoken implication of these words. Endearing as it was, she couldn't help but feel a little disheartened at the thought of companionship.

What is wrong with you? She thought angrily to herself. You're dragging him along in your disgrace, forcing him into a marriage he does not want to be in, and yet you think of nothing but yourself! Looking back at her father determinedly, she said:

"Father I cannot marry him." To her very great surprise, her father smiled brightly at her.

"Oh," he said, chuckling slightly. "He was certain you would not accept. But I do not think you are declining for the reason he believes you will."

"What do you mean, papa?" Margaret asked, completely uncomprehending.

"Tell me my dear," he continued. "Why are you against this marriage?"

"I-I-" Margaret stuttered for a moment. "I could not bear the guilt of forcing someone to be tied to me for the rest of my life."

"But he is offering this to you freely. You certainly have not forced him into anything."

Margaret was inclined to disagree.

"I may not literally be forcing him into matrimony father, but it is because of me that he feels obligated to even offer." Her father raised his eyebrows at her clearly disagreeing with her. She sighed exasperatedly. "Do you wish for me to marry Mr. Thornton, father?" she asked somewhat irritably.

"I want to be able to see you leave the house without having people leer at you." he replied wearily. Margaret looked down, guilt creeping up inside her. "I want your life to be returned to normal. But this is your decision to make; your choice. I will not force your hand either way. I support you completely, even if you choose not to marry him." Margaret was so touched by the way her father spoke to her, that she answered without thinking about the words that were tumbling out of her mouth.

"Very well father. I will marry Mr. Thornton."

The next morning found John standing at the door to Crampton once more, although this time with a somewhat nervous fluttering in his stomach. He told himself over and over again that it wouldn't matter if Margaret rejected him once more, that his conscious would be clear, and that it would be her decision to remain in this position in life. It was completely pointless however, as a small part of him traitorously longed for her to say yes. To be his wife.

To be Margaret Thornton.

Even if it was only because she was forced to. There was a part of him that feared her rejection. If she refused him this time, in light of everything that had happened to her, knowing he was her only way out, than there was truly no way for him to win her affections. Ever. He didn't know if he could recover from being turned down again. He did his best to suppress such thoughts as he was led into Mr. Hale's study once more, but found it to be difficult. In fact, he hardly heard a word Mr. Hale was saying to him.

"My daughter thanks you for the consideration of your proposal, and has informed me that would be honored to accept it."

Had he just heard that correctly?

"I-I'm sorry," He began. "Did you say-she accepted?" He looked disbelievingly at Mr. Hale, whose eyes were twinkling in a way John had never witnessed.

"Yes. And she entreated me to beg your forgiveness that she is not down here to thank you herself. She is still quite unwell." Mr. Hale's brow creased almost imperceptibly in concern, but the twinkling still remained. John, quite unable to speak at the moment, simply stared at him dumbfounded.

Eventually he was able to work past his initial (and somewhat guiltily obtained) euphoria, and set to planning the wedding details with Mr. Hale.

"You're what?!" John sighed. He had expected this reaction from his mother, but it did no make it any more pleasant to hear in person.

"I'm engaged to Miss Hale, and we will be married by the end of next week."

"Yes, I heard you the first time." she snapped. "But that's nine days from now!"

"Yes, I am aware."

"And you expect to be able to plan a wedding in nine days?" she asked him skeptically.

"Well it's hardly going to be the grandiose affair that Fanny's was."

"I cannot plan a wedding in nine days John."

"I wasn't asking you to, Mother." He replied stiffly.

"I think I will go visit Fanny for a week or two." She said, daring him to object.

"I think that would be best." He replied coolly. Things had been heated between them ever since his mother's outburst at Crampton.

"I cannot believe that woman," she spat contemptuously. "Is finally getting her way with you."

"Might I remind you," John replied, his voice lowering dangerously. "That I would not be marrying Miss Hale in nine days if it weren't for you-informing Mr. Hale of our 'obscenely' relationship." His mother looked at him with incredulous fury, but said nothing. She knew he was right. Without a word, she turned away from him and walked briskly to her room before slamming the door shut behind her.

Nine days later a marriage took place between two people who had not intended on being married. Two people who were both hopelessly in love with the other, though neither was actually aware of it. Two people who were desperately hoping that the scandal surrounding their relationship would finally be put to rest. Two people who were hoping that against all odds, they might be able to call themselves friends one day, if nothing else.

Nine days later John Thornton married Margaret Hale, and begged God that this would be the end of the turbulence, and his life would finally find some peace.

But God did not answer his prayer.

For John Thornton, everything was just beginning.

A/N: No this is NOT the end of the story. Lol. I have a long way to go from here. This chapter obviously moved very quickly, but don't worry, I'm going over the gaps more in the next chappie. As always, I can't WAIT to hear what you think! =D Also, I'm kinda spare on ideas lately. Give me some? Maybe, please? =D I mean, I've got the plot made, but I would love love love LOVE some ideas ;)

I love you guys, btw. And again, sorry for any mishaps with my writing. I do try.