Chapter 23

On the morning of the wedding, the sky was a striking shade of blue and the sun immersed the city in its warming rays of light.

It felt as though the heavens were smiling down upon them, Margaret thought, as she stood by the window, looking outside, while Dixon was fixing the last touches on her wedding dress.

Margaret stepped in front of the mirror to check her appearance once more. She did look very nice, she had to admit. The white dress was simple but elegant, Dixon had put diamond pearls into her hair, which glistened in the light, and the necklace she wore, which had once been her mother's, complimented her eyes beautifully.

"Now, Miss Margaret, you truly look stunning. Your dear mama would be so proud", Dixon uttered, her voice thick with emotion, as she carefully pulled the veil over Margaret's face. At this moment, the door flew open and Ann Latimer stuck her head in.

"Margaret, it is time!", she exclaimed excitedly. Ann would be Margaret's bridesmaid, along with her cousin Eliza, whom Margaret had only seen once, but since she was not acquainted with too many suitable young women of her age in Milton, the Latimers had proposed Eliza, and Margaret had gladly taken them up on their offer.

Ann was wearing an elegant light blue dress and gloves. She had taken hours to get her hair done, and appeared almost more excited than the bride herself.

The wedding was scheduled for ten o clock in the morning, and as their carriage made its way towards the church, Margaret looked out into the streets of Milton, suddenly remembering the first time she had crossed the city in a carriage like this, on her way from Crampton to Marlborough Mills with Williams.

It seemed like a lifetime ago now, so many things had changed. Everything had changed. It felt as if since then, no stone had been left standing.

The streets looked much less daunting now. She knew them by heart, they were connected with so many memories. Milton was home, she realized. Against all odds, the city had turned out to be the place where she was to stay for the rest of her life.

The carriage soon came to a halt in front of the small church, from where the tiny path led up the hill to the graveyard she had visited so often.

Nervously, Margaret neared the door of the church. Mr. Latimer was waiting for her in the vestry, greeting her with a warm smile and a bow of his head. Since both her father and Mr. Bell were gone, it had been decided that Latimer, having grown to be a good friend and confidant of hers, would take up the task of leading her to the altar.

As they reached him, he held out his arm to her, and she took it willingly, trying to keep her breathing calm. The door opened and countless heads turned to look at her. She realized that the church was filled to the very last seat. Despite her wish for a small ceremony, it seemed that many people had decided to attend.

As she tentatively set one foot in front of the other, moving down the left aisle towards the front, she was barely able to focus on anything but her own heart, which threatened to burst out of her chest at any moment.

As she passed the people in the rows, she recognized some of them. There were the other mill owners and their wives. Hamper, Slickson and Watson, and some women she thought she had seen at the Latimer's ball, all that time ago.

As were drawing near the altar, she caught a glimpse at John, just as he stepped in from the right aisle to meet her at the front of the church. He was followed closely by Williams, who had agreed to serve as his groomsman. Margaret almost stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of her groom, and had to remind herself to keep walking.

He wore a dark blue coat above a white silk waistcoat, light grey trousers, an ornamented tie, and an elegant white boutonniere in the lapel of his coat. He looked stunningly handsome and as his eyes met hers, she could see her own emotions reflected in them, a mixture of sheer joy and nervousness.

She came to stand beside him, and he took her hand with a shy little smile.

Later, Margaret would not be able to remember most of the ceremony. All she could see was his eyes as they stood before God, speaking their vows.

John put a beautiful gold wedding band on her finger, they shook hands with the vicar, and eventually, Margaret signed her maiden name for the last time, before being presented with the wedding certificate.

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John's breath had stopped the moment he had seen Margaret enter the church.

She looked like an angel that had come straight down from the heavens, and when she put her hand in his and smiled up at him, he suddenly felt lightheaded.

Concentrating hard to follow the words of the vicar and say his own vows correctly, all he wanted was to take her in his arms and hold her to him forever.

He signed his name next to hers with a trembling hand, and then took her arm to lead her out of the church.

As they stepped out into the sunlight, they were greeted by countless people, cheering. They stopped in front of the gate, and John turned towards her, carefully lifting the veil from her face with his hands.

"You look beautiful, Mrs. Thornton", he whispered to her. Margaret looked up at the name, still so unfamiliar to her own ears, and yet filling her with such happiness. "You do not look too bad yourself, Mr. Thornton", she replied happily.

Everyone who had attended church was standing there, but there were many more people that Margaret had not seen inside, during the ceremony. A large group of men and women stood at the side of the courtyard.

Their clothes were plain, some of them worn out, but their wakeful eyes and warm smiles made up for their state of slightly improper attire. She saw Nicholas Higgins and Mary amongst several others she recognized as men and women she had seen at Marlborough Mills.

Excitedly she gave John's arm a slight squeeze, to get his attention, and nodded towards the people standing there. He followed her direction with his eyes and a look of surprise crossed his face.

It seemed that his workers had come to pay their respects at their wedding. They cheerfully waved their caps, clapped their hands and hailed. Touched at the sight, he nodded at them with one of his rare smiles, as they passed.

Margaret waved at Nicholas and Mary, who beamed at her joyfully. Then, her eyes fell on the woman she had almost missed. She was standing a little to the side, gazing at them with an almost shy expression on her face.

As she caught Margaret's eye, she gave her a slight smirk and a wink. It was Birdie, dressed in what was obviously her Sunday best, who had apparently not wanted to miss the opportunity of witnessing this event.

Then, they were in the carriage, on their way back to Marlborough Mills.

They sat next to each other, holding hands, and for a while, neither of them spoke, both overwhelmed by the whole situation. Eventually, he said: "I hope we will be able to get the wedding breakfast over with quickly. I cannot wait to finally be alone with you."

Margaret squeezed his hand and smiled nervously. She longed to be alone with him, to finally have him all to herself, without prying eyes or any rules of propriety. They would finally be free to enjoy each other's company.

But at the same time, she suddenly remembered her talk with Mrs. Eldon, and it gave her no small amount of anxiety. He seemed to have sensed her unease and leaned closer to her, his lips almost touching her hair as he murmured:

"What is the matter, dearest?" The endearment touched something deep within her and she leaned her head against his shoulder. "I am just a little nervous, that is all", she admitted. "Well, if it is of any sort of comfort to you, Margaret, I am nervous too", he confessed.

She turned her head to look up at him and found nothing but sincerity in his face. "It is alright to be nervous", he said, "we will work through it together." His words had a calming effect on her, and she let out a slow breath, as she snuggled up against him.

The carriage drew to a halt in the mill yard and was soon followed by a row of more carriages. One after the other, the guests entered the mill house, where a beautiful table design had been set up in the dining room.

As they feasted their way through the various courses, and the guests consumed large quantities of fine wine, Margaret and John only had eyes for each other. As they were sitting side by side at the table, occasionally stealing a loving glance at the other, or a small touch of their hands, they both prayed that the whole event would draw to an end.

It did, of course, take several hours, more wine, a wedding cake, and many good wishes from everyone around, until eventually, the last guests had taken their leave.

As John and Margaret stood outside on the porch, and looked after the Latimer's carriage, which was the last to leave the yard, the sun was beginning to set.

Finally, they were alone. Standing for a little moment longer, his arm around her, their sides pressing into each other, they listened to the silence that suddenly engulfed them.

"I cannot believe we are really here", he said eventually, his voice full of wonder. "After everything, we have been through to get here, you are truly mine." She lifted her face and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "And you mine", she said with a nervous smile.

Slowly, they turned and went back into the house. "Would you mind taking some tea in my study, before we retire?", he asked her, to which she agreed readily.

She had never been to his study before. The entirety of the mill house was new to her, with the only rooms she knew being the sitting room to the right of the entrance hall, the dining room, and one room upstairs from which they had looked down into the mill yard, on the day of the riot.

The study had a dark wooden panelling, similar to his office at the mill. There was a large desk and some comfortable-looking chairs. The walls were lined with bookshelves that went up to the ceiling.

Curiously, Margaret stepped closer and let her eyes wander over the book spines, reading some titles. He did have an impressive collection. "Have you read all of these?", she asked, slightly amazed.

"Most of them", he confessed. "I have not had much time for reading in the past couple of months, having been so busy with the mill. I hope to be able to pick it up again, once things have settled down a bit."

He sat down in one of the chairs, motioning for her to join him, and she took a seat near him. The chair was as comfortable as it looked. "You have always been quite a reader, have you not?" He nodded at that. "I have been drawn to books from the moment I could read my first letters. I have always had a thirst for knowledge, I suppose."

"I used to read with my father, when I was a child", she told him. "I would sit on his knee, and he would read the bible to me, and some Greek philosophers. I quite enjoyed spending time with papa, and talking to him about philosophy."

"I can imagine", he smiled. "Your father was a very pleasant man to talk to. I always enjoyed our lessons."

The door opened and a butler brought in a tray with tea.

As they sipped the warm beverage, they started talking about their favourite books and various topics they were interested in. She had heard him speak of such things with her father sometimes, but at the time, she had not been too keen on his company, and therefore had not paid much attention to what he was saying.

Now, she realized that she was looking forward to getting to know him better. She was sure that she would probably even enjoy his elaborations on Richard Arkwright's machines, she thought with a smile.

As they finished their tea, Margaret slowly but gradually felt her nervousness return. Darkness had fallen outside the study window and she knew the time to retire was drawing nearer with every passing minute. Eventually, John put down his empty teacup and slowly rose from his chair.

"Margaret, will you allow me to show you upstairs to the bedroom?", he asked cautiously. She shot up from her chair a little faster than she had intended, feeling her heart rate speed up, but trying hard not to show her nervousness. She took his arm and he led her upstairs and along a hallway. Eventually, he opened a door to the right and stepped aside to let her enter.

The room was spacious and rather gloomy. Two windows led out into the mill yard, framed by dark curtains, there was a small desk with some papers and a flask of brandy, a washing table, a wardrobe. A fire was crackling in the fireplace, a door to the right led into a small dressing room, and there, in the middle of the room, against the wall, stood a large canopy bed. Margaret could not take her eyes off it, her nervousness threatening to get the better of her.

"I will send a maid to help you prepare for bed", he told her. "I will be downstairs in the study for an hour. Do you think this will be sufficient time for you to go through your evening routine?" He was so polite and considerate, she thought with a rush of warmth towards him.

"I think an hour will be just fine", she told him. "Let the maid know if there is anything else you need", he said, before kissing her hand and stepping out of the room.

Margaret stood there, her heart thumping against her ribcage. So, this was it. There was no going back now. 'I can do this', she told herself silently. 'Edith has gone through with it, my mother has, aunt Shaw has, Mrs. Latimer and Mrs. Eldon, countless women I know. If they could bear it, so will I.'

There was a knock at the door, and at her answer, a young maid stepped in, whom Margaret had seen on two other occasions, one time on the night John had rescued her from Princeton, and the second time on the day of the riot, when he had been injured.

The maid curtseyed to her and introduced herself politely as Jane, before inquiring as to how she could be of service.

She helped Margaret out of her dress, and assisted her in removing her hairpins. She also lay out her nightgown on the bed, for her to put on. Everything was done orderly, and without much comment, which Margaret was grateful for.

The suitcase Margaret had prepared for the first two days, had been brought up to the bedroom and placed near the window. Her other clothes and things would be brought to Marlborough Mills within the following days.

Margaret washed and dressed for bed, and then searched the suitcase for her hairbrush. She sat down on the edge of the bed, nervously brushing out her hair, for lack of anything else to do.

Every other minute, her eyes would dart to the clock on the mantlepiece, showing her that there were now less than ten minutes left, until the proposed hour was over and she would be joined by her husband.

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While Margaret was upstairs, getting ready, John was restlessly pacing his study, his own nerves threatening to get the better of him. He had waited for this night for months, years even.

Almost from the moment, he had first laid eyes on her, he had desired her, body and soul, and now, that the consummation of their marriage was only moments away, he was excited and terrified at the same time.

The mere thought of her in his arms made his body tingle and his blood rush downward towards his crotch. He drew a deep breath, trying to focus on anything else. This was too soon. He could not go up there all hot and bothered already, for he knew it would give her a scare.

He had sensed her nervousness as he had sat beside her in the carriage. He was aware that she likely had little idea of what was to happen between them, and he silently cursed the rules of society, which deliberately kept women in the dark on these issues, making this so much harder for them, when they were eventually faced with the reality of it.

Over the past few weeks, since she had accepted his proposal, John had given this matter some thought. He felt a strong sense of responsibility towards her.

He knew that his conduct tonight would influence all that was to follow in their relationship. If he failed her tonight, scared her, or even worse, hurt her, he could lose her trust and the fragile connection they had just started to carefully build.

He drew a shaky breath, trying to calm himself. He could do this. He would be careful, gentle. He would make this about her needs as much as his own. He would show her that her marital duties did not have to be unpleasant, that they could be enjoyable. He wanted to make her feel the way he felt.

John looked up at the clock, biting his lip and clenching his hands. It was time.

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NOTES:

On a scale of one to f*** yourself, how much do you hate me for ending the chapter here? Let me know in the comments. ? ﾟﾘﾂ