For 20 chapters of "FtA" y'all yelled at me for writing angst xD Now I'm writing fluff and you better appreciate it, lol!

Chapter 2

Late that same afternoon, a carriage arrived from the Latimer's home, with Margaret's belongings. Two porters brought in an array of bags and boxes she had prepared before her wedding. Until dinner, Margaret busied herself with unpacking her clothes and Jane helped her put everything away in the bedroom cabinets and drawers, which John had cleared out for her to use.

Everything was still a bit provisional; she would need more time to really settle in and put her personal touches on everything, but it was a start, and when she put her father's bible and the small, white, flower-crested powder tin, which had belonged to her mother, on the night table beside the bed, it already felt a bit more like home.

Satisfied, she went downstairs to the dining room, where John was already waiting for her. He had spent the past two hours in his study, catching up on some business correspondence.

"I have had your father's book collection brought into my study. If you like, we can unpack it after dinner, and you can decide where to put it. I can make some room in my study, or the library, whichever you prefer." "That sounds wonderful", she smiled, remembering what lengths he had gone to, to save her father's books for her. "But I would not want to have you move your things for me." "It is no trouble", he assured her. "I am sure we will find a way to rearrange everything to both our liking."

They sat in companionable silence, as they feasted on delicious roast beef with potatoes and vegetables, and plum pudding for dessert.

"This is a big house for just one person", she stated eventually. "Even for two it is quite grand, but I can't imagine how you could bear living here alone, having dinner all by yourself every night." "I was rarely home, Margaret. I often only came in here to sleep, being so busy with the mill all day."

"You should slow down a little", she mused. "Nicholas Higgins told me that you worked very long hours and that he never saw you eat anything, until he invited you into the worker's canteen." The corners of his mouth twitched into a rueful little smile. "It's a bad habit, I suppose", he admitted. "I often just forget. I grew up eating only one meal a day and it appears to have stuck with me." "I will have to make sure to change that from now on", she told him matter-of-factly, to which he gave a little smirk, touched by her concern for him.

They spent the evening in John's study, going through her father's books, discussing some of those, which they were both acquainted with, while John rearranged his bookshelves to make some room for the new additions.

Margaret was once again entranced by how pleasant John's company was. He was sophisticated and well-versed in a vast variety of topics. He could quote Plato, as well as Shakespeare and Byron, they spoke of history and geography and discussed a few of her favourite scriptural passages.

The more they talked, the more Margaret began to understand her father's admiration for his pupil, and it became clear to her why papa had always looked forward to their lessons so much.

John, on his part, was just as enthralled by their discussions as his wife was. More than once, she challenged his opinions and made some valid points. She had inherited her father's wits and he admired the self-confidence with which she spoke her mind so plainly. It had been something he had noticed in her from the very beginning of their acquaintance, and it had always set her apart from any other woman he knew. It captivated him.

It was rather late and Margaret had just placed the last book back on the shelve, when she felt him draw near behind her. She could feel his breath against the back of her neck and it sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. Slowly she turned to face him.

"Should we retire?", he whispered and all she could do was nod, as she felt her breathing quicken at his nearness. His hands found her wrists and he slowly lifted her hands to place them around his neck, before sliding his own back down her arms and sides in a sensual way and bowing his head to claim her lips with hers.

Minutes passed, while they stood against the wall, lost in each other. Margaret felt like she was breathing him in, like with every small touch, every move, he became part of her a little more. It seemed an eternity later when he pulled away and took her hand in his, and they walked out of the study and up the stairs in silence.

It was too late to call for Jane, so Margaret had to ask John to help her out of her dress. This proved to be quite a challenge. "I am glad I'm not a woman. How do you bear wearing this all day?", he wondered aloud, as his fingers fumbled with the laces of her corset.

They took turns in the dressing room, washing and changing into their nightclothes.

Margaret was sitting on the bed in her nightgown when he entered the room and took a seat next to her on the mattress. He looked at her for a long moment, taking in her face and she felt drawn in by the depth in his eyes. "May I?", he murmured, slowly lifting his hand to her hair. She nodded silently and he started pulling out a pin.

His hands worked quietly, removing one pin after the other, letting his hands glide through her soft curls slowly, enjoying every slight touch. Margaret felt the tiny hairs on her arms stand up. Even though they were still clothed, his touch felt incredibly intimate. Finally, all of her hair dangled loosely down beyond her shoulders. "You are so beautiful", he whispered huskily.

She lifted her hand and traced a finger down his cheek and along his jawline, enjoying the feeling of his stubble against her skin. "You must be tired, dearest", he said quietly. "We don't need to do anything tonight if you would rather rest." She felt herself tremble at the timbre of his voice. Shaking her head slowly, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. "Please John", she breathed. "I need you."

Their lovemaking, this time, was slow and gentle. They both took their time, learning the body of the other, reacting to every small gasp and moan, giving pleasure and receiving it. Margaret could scarcely believe that it had been a mere twenty-four hours since she had first lain with him. Four times he had made love to her since then, and each time it had been different.

The way he held her now was a stark contrast to their boisterous encounter on the weaving floor earlier today, and she wondered how it was possible for one man to possess both such desperate passion and such incredible tenderness.

It was as if the world had stopped and there was nothing left but the two of them. They surrendered to each other completely, clinging to each other, as the universe seemed to shatter into a billion stars around them.

Slowly Margaret came to her senses, her hand in his, as he lay next to her, gasping for breath. "I'm not sure how much more of this I will survive, but I can think of worse ways to go", he muttered weakly. Margaret gave a small chuckle and squeezed his hand, unable to utter anything that would make sense.

He pulled her to him and buried his face in the crook of her neck, nuzzling into the dark curls of her hair, and for a moment it felt as if a strange shudder ran through him. There was something about the way he held onto her. It was gentle, yet urgent, almost like a child seeking shelter, and she suddenly felt herself being hit by an odd wave of protectiveness. "Let me sleep like this tonight", he breathed against her skin. "In your arms, all of it is so much easier to bear."

Margaret was not sure what he was speaking of, but she had a feeling that this was not the right moment to probe into him, so she just draped her arm around him silently. Her hand came to rest on his bare upper arm, her fingers tracing gentle circles on his skin. "I love you, John", she told him softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

He gave a small sigh, but otherwise made no reply. She sensed his breathing evening out and his body going limp in her arms and realized that he had fallen asleep. With a small smile, she leaned her cheek against the top of his head and closed her eyes, letting the sound of his breathing soothe her until her own tiredness finally claimed her.

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"Where exactly is it, that we are going?" "You will see."

"Are you teasing me?"

"I would never", he smiled smugly, leaning back into the cushioning of the carriage.

Margaret gazed out of the window at the rows of brick buildings passing by. It was the last day before he had to return to his duties with the mill, and he had talked her into a small trip, without revealing the destination.

Gradually the view changed into detached villas with trimmed gardens and eventually, into country hedgerows and vast meadows.

"Oh John, look, it's beautiful!", she exclaimed, grasping his arm and pulling on it lightly to make him look out of the window. They were entering a small country village with neatly kept houses and cobblestone streets. The carriage stopped in front of an old inn, and John helped her down onto the street.

"Have you been here before?", she asked, looking around in surprise.

"I passed through here once or twice on my way to Liverpool, on business, but I never took the time to explore", he replied. "There are some nice woods nearby, or so I've heard." He grabbed a basked they had brought along and closed the door of the carriage behind him, nodding to the coachman to indicate that they were to remain here for a while.

"How do you feel about a little walk?" In answer to his question, she linked her arm through his with a joyful twinkle in her eyes. They made their way down the street to the edge of the village, passing some small shops and houses.

The path that led them through lush green meadows and moors was lined with tiny yellow and violet flowers and Margaret picked a few of them and wrapped them inside her handkerchief to press later. They walked for a long while, hand in hand, enjoying the warm breeze and beautiful views.

When the sun stood high in the sky, they found a big old oak tree and John took a large cloth out of the basked they had brought and spread it out in the shade beneath it. They sat and Margaret took out the lunch they had brought: Bread, cheese, ham, fruit, some ginger biscuits, and a bottle of red wine.

"This is just wonderful", Margaret sighed happily, and her eyes followed two butterflies that were just passing by. While she was cutting the bread, she looked over at her husband who had doffed his coat and was rolling up his shirtsleeves, leaning against the trunk of the tree behind him with a content expression.

He looked oddly out of place out here, surrounded by nature, she thought with a smirk. She had never pictured him anywhere else but the mill and the dusty streets of the city. She saw his eyes roam about, taking in his surroundings.

"How do you like it?", she inquired, handing him some cheese and a slice of bread. "It is beautiful", he nodded.

"You never went out into nature as a child?" She remembered asking him about it once at the Latimer's ball. "There was not much time for such things when I was young", he replied. "My mother would take us to the park occasionally, but father was always too busy. And I think they did not want to spend money on the fare for the omnibus."

Of course, Margaret realized, they would not have owned a personal coach to take them anywhere at their leisure. Remembering once again how much his upbringing had differed from her own, she bit her lip, feeling a bit naive.

He took a bite of his bread, seemingly unaware of her embarrassment.

"Tell me about your brother", he then asked. "What was your childhood like with him?" "Oh, Fred? He was the most delightful boy in the world. He was several years older than I, but he would always watch out for me. I remember, he loved reading in papa's old atlas. We would look at the maps together and imagine going to those places, far away, beyond the sea. Well, I suppose he did go there eventually", she concluded ruefully. "If not under the circumstances he had desired."

He saw her drop her eyes and reached out his hand to cover hers. "I am sorry for your loss, dear. I imagine it must be very painful to be parted from him in such a way."

She nodded, swallowing hard. "It is. I am happy to know that he is alive and well. And he is happy, I'm sure. He is married to a wonderful girl, or so I am told, and he holds a good position in Cadiz. I sometimes think I should go there sometime and see it for myself."

"We could", he proposed. "Spain is not at the end of the world."

"I know", she sighed. He absentmindedly traced the back of her hand with his thumb.

"He was the first one to notice that I held some tender feeling for you, you know?", she suddenly remembered with a smile. "Even before I had realized it myself." He looked at her in surprise. "How so?"

"When he was over, before mama's death, we were talking about papa's friends in Milton, and he made some comment about you being a manufacturer – you know how my family can be a bit – ", she blushed, not knowing how to phrase it, but she could tell from the look on his face that he perfectly comprehended her meaning.

"Either way", she continued quickly, trying to move away from the topic, "I may have defended you a tad too eagerly, for he grew quite suspicious. He was always good at reading me, I suppose." The frown upon his face, caused by the mention of her family's distaste for his circumstances, was replaced by a complacent little grin. "You really defended me, Margaret?"

"I did", she admitted with a blush. "At that point, I had realized that being a gentleman is not defined by his bloodline, but his conduct."

"What made you change your mind?", he inquired curiously.

"Henry Lennox", she stated plainly. "The way he spoke to you at the Great Exhibition. I swear, at that moment I prayed that the earth would open up and swallow me whole for embarrassment at his arrogant ways. It was then that I realized where my loyalties truly lay."

He gawked at her, amazed. "And there I thought you were thinking of marrying that man, calling him by his christian name and all", he confessed, to which she burst out laughing. "Oh, dear Lord, no. I mean it's not that he didn't try. I turned down his proposal long before I turned down yours."

"He proposed?", he huffed, and she quickly patted his arm soothingly. "I was never remotely interested in him, John. He was merely a friend. He is a rather decent man, and a good lawyer, but I never regretted having turned him down."

They finished their lunch and Margaret withdrew a notebook and a graphite pencil from her purse. "What are you doing?", he asked as she opened the book and placed it on her knees. "Sketching. I have not done it in a while, but this landscape is so beautiful that I cannot resist."

He sat in silence, watching in fascination as her hands moved across the paper with confidence, quickly putting various lines on the page. He had not known that she could do this and was quite taken by it.

A soft curl of her hair had come loose from her pin and was dangling down the side of her face without her notice. Her skin had a healthy glow about it after their walk. He sat there, surrounded by green, the sound of birds and bees in his ears. It was such a different sound from the clanking and clattering of the mill. It almost felt like he had died and gone to paradise. If only this beautiful dream would never end.

As the lines on the paper started taking shape he recognized the figure of a man, sitting on the ground, leaning against the trunk of a big tree, and raised his eyebrows in astonishment. "Is that me?"

"I could not resist", she mumbled, before looking up and giving him a tiny smile. "You look different today." "How so?", he wondered. She regarded him for a long moment, deep in thought. "I can't put my finger on exactly what it is. Maybe it is that I have never seen you out in nature before. You seem a bit calmer. More at ease."

He pondered her words for a minute. "I do feel more at ease, I think. The past two days have been the most beautiful of my life", he admitted, leaning his head back against the wooden trunk, unable to take his eyes off his beautiful wife.

"I wish we could stay here forever. Just the two of us, without a care in the world."

She looked up from her work once more at the strange tremor in his voice, searching his face, and for a short moment, she thought she saw a faint glimmer in his eyes. He gave her a small smile, but when she looked closer, there was something underneath, something painful, he was trying to keep hidden. Something he carried with him, always.

Margaret had promised to give him time, to not push him into talking. She knew he trusted her, that could not be the reason for his silence. It rather seemed to her that he was unable to find the words for what was tormenting him. As if the things that had happened to him, had rendered him mute, and all Margaret could do now was love him and be patient. She would do it for him. She would do anything for him.

She held out the notebook for him to look at, and saw the corners of his mouth turn up. "It's really good", he praised her work. "I daresay it looks better than the original." "Never!", she chuckled and leaned in to breathe a kiss onto his cheek. "Don't belittle yourself, you are very handsome, and all the women of Milton know it." "I care only about one woman's opinion, dearest", he told her earnestly, before capturing her lips with his for a sweet kiss.

They returned to the village in the late afternoon and were on their way back to Milton. Margaret was a little saddened by the fact that the pending reopening of the Marlborough Mills was soon to cut the hours of their undisturbed togetherness short, but she knew how important the mill was to John, and Margaret herself would have to settle into her new role as mistress of the house.

The next few weeks would likely be quite demanding for both of them, but Margaret told herself that they would have the rest of their lives together to make up for it.

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NOTES:

Fun fact: Being vegan myself, I actually cringe every time I have them eat animal products in the stories xD I sometimes wish they had had hummus and bean burritos in Victorian England, but that was not really the case, so I'll just have to suffer in order to keep historical accuracy, lol.