Chapter 17

"Martha?" Margaret addressed the maid who was pinning her hair. Martha glanced up and caught her eye in the mirror. Margaret's gaze returned back to the reflection of the chaise lounge in the corner of the room, where it had been almost all morning. She had woken before John again, but had remained perfectly still and reveled in the unusual joy such a circumstance brought to her heart. Unlike the previous morning, this morning Margaret was filled with doubts and insecurities. The realization that they were married was sinking into her bones, and it made her feel curiously jittery whenever she thought about it. John's behavior was…puzzling to say the least, and she could not, try as she might, make it out. And then there were the wedding clothes, still draped haphazardly on the chaise lounge, untouched by all. There was some significance to this, and Margaret knew it. She could practically feel it. If her initial suspicion of them wasn't enough, she had noticed that John kept casting nervous glances in their direction nearly every time they were together. Her eyes had fallen upon them in her first moment of waking, thus causing her preexisting doubts to surface. In fact, her mind had been so uneasy that she remained perfectly still and quiet as she felt John stir beside her. He must have turned towards her, but her back was facing him so she could not be certain. He only stayed there a few minutes before rising, dressing, and leaving the room in stealth. But she did not see any of this; she closed her eyes, and did not open them until she was certain that he had left the room. When they opened again, they settled immediately on the chaise lounge. Why could she not shake the feeling that something was not altogether right with the way the clothes were settled? It wasn't something of great importance, surely. But she knew that there was something to do with those clothes, and she desperately wanted to know although she didn't completely understand why. It was as though they were pulling at her mind, filtering through her subconscious and trying to make her see…something.

"Yes, Mistress?" Martha replied, pulling Margaret from her thoughts. She felt nervous and somewhat embarrassed of what she was about to ask, even though it was a perfectly normal question under the circumstances. That didn't seem to stop the slight flush from warming her cheeks, however.

"Is there not somewhere more suitable for my wedding dress?" She felt her flush deepen as she spoke. "Well, what I mean to say is…" Her anxiety was coming out in her voice now, and she desperately hoped that Martha didn't notice. "Why do the wedding clothes remain on the chaise lounge?" Her question did not seem to faze Martha in the slightest, and she replied without hesitation. "The Master forbade us to remove them." Martha's reply only puzzled Margaret further. John had forbidden Martha from removing the clothes? Why? She opened her mouth to question Martha further, but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Margaret?" John's voice called, muffled slightly by the door. Margaret nodded to Martha who had just finished her hair, and she opened the door for John, curtsied, and left without another word. Margaret stood, and turned to greet him.

"Good morning." She said cheerfully. There was something inexplicable about his presence that made her feel as though she had the sun contained within her. He smiled at her in a way that made her want to dance.

"I was coming to inquire if you were ready." He said, looking down at her with that boyish wonder once more.

"Indeed I am." She replied, practically bouncing with anticipation. "I am so ready feel the fresh air again, I do not believe I would have dressed properly if it wasn't for Martha." John chuckled slightly and offered her his arm, which she took eagerly, trying to ignore the racing nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach that always accompanied his touch. "So where are we going?"

"Out and about." He replied mysteriously, looking quite stern. "You're certain you're up for this?" He added, his sternness suddenly bearing down upon her.

"Of course I am." She replied forcefully. She was quite ready to breathe the fresh air once more. John placed his the back of his fingertips against her forehead once more, and Margaret could not help the sigh of partial exasperation that passed her lips.

"I'm sorry." John said quickly and dropped his hand, causing Margaret to feel slightly guilty. "I'm just making sure. That is to say, I would hate to be the cause of a relapse. I'm quite certain Dr. Donaldson would not approve of you going out of doors."

"It's alright, John." Margaret paused and looked up at him. "Thank you." He looked at her intently, something changing in his eyes, but turned and led her down the stairs before she could study it any further.

Margaret breathed deeply, the outside air rejuvenating her mind, and refreshing her body. It was still quite chilly outside, but she hardly noticed. She had hardly stirred out of doors for…well she supposed it must have been several weeks if she included the one she could not remember. She smiled, feeling unaccountably joyous, and turned to her escort.

"Oh this is wonderful!" She exclaimed. John glanced at her, his brows rising a little and his eyes containing the unusual sparkle of mischievousness once more. "Thank you for doing this for me."

"You're welcome, Margaret." He replied, before focusing on the road ahead of him. They walked for some time in a silence that, while companionable, had the slight tinge of awkwardness to it. The streets were busy, filled with shoppers and merchants alike, and many a surreptitious glance was cast in their direction. Margaret realized that this was the first time they had been together in public, if you discounted the walk home from Nicholas' house that had, ironically, put them in this situation in the first place. This was also the first time that Margaret had been back to this area of town since she had (quite literally) been thrown out, and was not something that she cared to think of very much. If ever she needed proof that her reputation had been shattered, that incident had cleared any doubts left lingering in her mind.

She found she could no longer bear the faces of the others in the busy market, and cast her gaze downward. Her reputation had been ruined completely, and John had married her regardless. Was his own reputation now diminished because of her. Did these people, who were so disgusted by her that they would not even accept her business, also feel that way about him? What if his business suffered from it? The lives and wellbeing of so many in Milton depended on the success of Marlborough Mills. Had she condemned those who worked for it when she married John? Surely he would have thought of everything, every possible positive and negative before asking her. It was who he was: a businessman, intelligent, hard-working, and calculating. She had been part of more than enough conversations with him to know that he was a very calculating man, who always thought of every possible aspect in any situation before making a decision or passing judgment. He would have thought of this, would he not? In truth, while John was a very calculating man, he had not thought of any such troubles that might affect his Mill before asking for Margaret's hand. There had been nothing on his mind but the guilt that still plagued him over Margaret's diminished respectability. Guilt that was still plaguing him at that very moment. In fact, he very much doubted he would ever cease to feel it. Especially now when (even though Margaret herself did not notice it), the people of Milton were obviously still so very disapproving.

Margaret may not have seen their disdainful looks, barely concealed pointing, and none too quiet whispering, but John certainly did.

They stopped suddenly, and Margaret looked around disoriented. But it only lasted a second before she realized where she was, and could not help the gasp, nor the laughter that followed, or even her own thoughtlessness as she threw her arms around her escort in a fleeting embrace, cried "Thank you, thank you!" and hurried up the stairs to Crampton, not even waiting to be properly admitted.

John did not believe he had ever been privy to a happier sight than the one before him. Of course, he had written to Mr. Hale as soon as Margaret had woken, and had later written saying that he would bring Margaret there to see him, but he had not expected to be so completely blown away by the sight before him. True, Mr. Hale had not seen Margaret since she had recovered from her illness, seeing as how the day previous was her first full day of consciousness, but there was such a feeling of acceptance, of love that seeming to be flowing from the walls and it warmed his heart. Margaret had practically thrown herself into her father's arms, and the two now shared tears of joy at being so happily reunited. Even Dixon was standing to the side, mopping her eyes with a handkerchief. It was not long before Mr. Hale beckoned to him.

"John, my boy." Something stirred within him then. Something that made him want to weep and laugh at the same time. And as Mr. Hale embraced him tightly and thanked him repeatedly in a broken voice, he felt his eyes burn and knew that Mr. Hale had forgiven him. Forgiven him for everything he had done, placed no blame on him in any way, and John had never felt such acceptance in his entire. He had not realized until that moment, how much he truly missed his own father, how much he craved that bond. He had filled his life with work, first to pay off the debts he inherited at his fathers death, then to raise himself and his family above and out of their situation. And it had made his life empty. He had not noticed it before, he was too busy working. He thought he had been happy, but now he knew that wasn't the case. He was content with his situation, having matured into the man he was in the midst of hardship. But it was not happiness. This…this acceptance from a man he had not known more than two years, this love, this woman by his side alive and breathing…this was happiness.

"Thank you, my son. You have brought my daughter back to me." And with these words, John was completely undone.

"I-I have done nothing-" But he could not finish his sentence. He was too overcome by his own emotions, voice breaking and then failing him entirely.

"You have done everything for me, John." Too much, this was too much. He couldn't handle it; he didn't deserve this mans gratitude. He sat down in the nearest seat he could find, face uncomfortably wet, and his eyes burning. He shook his head. No, every problem Mr. Hale spoke of had been caused by him, not resolved by him. His faltering reputation, his income (which had been nothing great to begin with) was now almost nonexistent. He had taken liberties of Margaret, placing them both where they were. He had caused Margaret so much distress, which eventually led to her illness-for God's sake, he'd nearly killed with his words and indecision alone! Now they were married, her father left alone in this house after John had taken his daughter from him, and he was…thanking him? Claiming him as his son? No, he did not deserve this from him-from anyone. He could not accept it, even if he wanted to his own mind wouldn't allow it. Even now he could feel his mind rejecting the words, while his heart traitorously begged for more and poured emotions into his being that he never knew he had.

"No-" He tried again.

"You cared for my dying wife when I could not, befriended me, employed me, sought out this house for me when we were strangers…you spared my daughter from scandal, took her as your wife and asked for nothing in return, and now you have saved her from death. Yes, I would tell you there is nothing I could ever do to repay what you have willingly given to me, and I thank God that I have the honor of knowing you."

John could not control the tremble of his fingers, the way his heart longed for this, or the way his mind rejected it. He was too cynical, he knew that. And it was his cynicism that spoke his next words.

"You do me too much justice; I believe that Dr. Donaldson owns the right to claim keeping Margaret from death."

"Nonsense!" Mr. Hale said, laughing slightly. "Dr. Donaldson didn't spend six sleepless nights by her side, offering her words of comfort." John looked at him incredulously. How could he possibly have known? Mr. Hale must have noticed his change of expression, for he added: "I was by your side more than you are probably aware. If there was any doubts in my mind of your-" But a knock followed by the entry of both Dixon and Margaret, one carrying a tray of tea, and the other holding a plate of biscuits. He had completely forgotten Margaret and Dixon were even there, let alone notice that they had left the room at some point. He wondered when it had been. He looked at Margaret, catching her eye for only a moment before she turned away from him to set her tray on the table.

He suddenly understood her unusual expression as she entered the room, and hastily scrubbed his hands down his face, ridding it of any traces of wetness. There was nothing he could do for the redness of his eyes however, and when Margaret brought him a cup of tea he could not bring himself to meet her gaze. All he could think of was how very much he did not deserve the kindness of either Hale (even though Margaret was now Thornton), and how incredibly stupid he must look. He was not normally self conscious, but the idea of appearing so out of control, on top of everything else that had happened to him in the last half hour, was more than he could bear. He did what he could to avoid the direct gaze of anyone person.

That was, until Margaret sat down next to him and placed her hand on top of his in a silent gesture of support.

A/N: I'm sorry its not very long, and that you had to wait foooooooorrrreeeeevvvvveeeeerrrrr for it. But School is out, finals are done, and now I can do more writing! Heads up guys, we're getting to the good stuff. And please keep reviewing and telling me what you think, even if you don't like it. I love your reviews, and holy mother of pearl, we're almost at 300! =D

Also, I would just like to compliment everyone, even those who do not review on being awesome enough to read my story. When I first started writing I was averaging 1500 views per month. Last month I topped out at 12,522 views! So, I love you =D