So, moving swiftly on... we have come to the end of this story, but not of John and Margaret's story, which has much longer to run.

-OO-

"It was fine in the morning."
Charles Dickens

"Margaret," he whispered, in the early light.

She came awake in his arms, and smiled sleepily up at him,

"'I'd not the heart to wake you. But I must go to the Mill early."

"Oh..."

"I didn't want you to open your eyes and find me gone."

"I would indeed have been unhappy had you been gone...I shall always be sad without you now. A part of me will be missing." And that was their new estate; despite her words, nothing in it of sadness, for it is only the greatest of good fortunes to love so, and to be so loved.

"Well then -I was wonderin' if you might want to come with me." He added after a moment, "There's no need if you'd rather stay and sleep. But it is your mill now, and... I 'ave to speak to Mother... which I thought perhaps you should be there for."

-OO-

Hannah Thornton held the note her son had left for her last night. She had read it once and knew she never wanted to read it ever again, though there was not much to it.

Dearest Mother,

There is no more need for you to worry about the Mill, nor the house, all will continue as before; to be explained tomorrow.

Mother, I ask you, more seriously than I have ever asked you anything in my life before, out of the great love you have always so generously shown me, to be kind to Margaret Hale, and to welcome her, for she will, I think, accept my offer of marriage today.

John

For his sake, she would do it. She would be happy for him. But not yet, not quite yet.

The heavy sky was lightening little by little, as somewhere a hidden sun wheeled slowly up and over Milton's clouds. Mrs Thornton saw the beloved figure of her son, dark and white in dress, enter the slumbering yard of Marlborough Mill, which came to life only when its summoned servants flocked to tend it. With him, Miss Hale, in sedate mourning garb. They were walking side by side but apart, in quite a seemly fashion.

A relief that was only short, because after a moment her son turned to his wife-to-be and pounced on her and swiftly picked her up, one hand under her shoulders, one beneath the full, stiff darkness of her skirt, tossing her up in his arms, and he began to walk towards the house carrying her across the mill yard, his dark head bent over hers, laughing at some story she would never be told, for he belonged to another woman now.

-OO-

Epilogue

Lovers had loved before, and lovers would love again; but no lover had ever loved, might, could, would, or should ever love, as they loved..." Charles Dickens

John Thornton, prosperous manufacturer and benefactor of Milton, was waiting for his beloved Margaret to come downstairs, hands behind his back, taking a little turn around the room. She had bought some new dresses and was trying them on in her bedroom with her maid. He smiled as he thought of her delight in them, even though, no connoisseur of fashion, he had told her, "What I like you best in is..." and he had brought his lips close to her ears and whispered, because he loved to see her blush.

On the bookshelves he noticed for the first time a thick, square paper card propped on a bookend; he picked it up, read the title "Lane's Telescopic View of the Interior of the Great Industrial Exhibition" and was studying it when she came into the room, extending it so it made a little concertina, examining it to see how it worked.

"Oh! That! Do you remember, John?"

"I'd not looked at it properly before. I wanted to see how it was put together."

"It was the day you talked to me of swans and boats and ... and drains..."

He smirked, lining it up carefully and squinting one-eyed through the tiny hole at the front. "I wasn't makin' a very good hand of courtin' you, was I?"

"You were doing it perfectly. You kindly talked of any thing to make me feel better. Some of it was ... unexpected, but most made some sort of sense. .."

"Margaret. Look through here and see what you can see."

They looked together into the tiny glass: a diminishing view through the miniature Crystal Palace, the colourful drapes, the fountain, the tiny painted people in fine dress and coats, observing from some distance away the vanishing past where they had walked, and spoken, and fought, and fallen in love on the banks of the Serpentine.

"You were so masterful that day," she sighed. "The lecture you gave. The way you dealt with Henry. But then, as we sat together by the lake, I saw you from a different view entirely. I think I did fall in love with you - at that very moment!"

"Pity you didn't say so. Would've saved a deal of trouble," he observed, carefully folding closed the precious souvenir.

Her eyes the colour of seaglass sparkled at him. "And if I had - ? I believe, Mr Thornton, you would have refused me on the spot, declaring in high temper that you no longer had those foolish feelings of immature passion."

A quirky little smile came her way and a dark-blue blaze from his eyes. "I would have thrown you to the grass, Miss Hale, and taken you very forcefully. I wanted to."

"Did you, indeed?" she came closer to him then, bright-eyed and pink-cheeked, exercised by his words. He opened his arms for her, but she evaded them, standing just out of reach. "Tell me then, Mr Thornton, exactly what you wanted to do when you were standing there on the bank, looking so icy and aloof - ?"

He told her, exactly, as she had asked; and then, soon, they travelled together to that place once again and stayed there all afternoon. They live there now; master and mistress of their realm.

End

Author's notes:

Thank you to everyone who stayed with this till the end, and extra-specially to anyone who took the time to leave a comment. I am so grateful to all of you, you know who you are... I have 8 more stories to bring over (slowly) from AO3 so if you are interested, please subscribe especially as some of my stories are M rated and don't show up unless you change your search defaults. This has caught me out so often looking for things on here! A long one next, or a short one? You decide - leave a message!

And one last last thing - I am not quite mischievous enough to have used this one final quote from David Copperfield, but I laughed when I saw it:

"She did not replace my mother; no one could do that."