Hello everybody! I'm so sorry this has taken longer than it should, work has become hectic since the outbreak of Corona Virus. Thank you for all of you lovely reviews, they have all made me extremely happy! I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

Two days after her talk with Edith, Margaret was still struggling to throw off the misery that clung to her. Despite being glad that she had Edith on her side, she was forcibly reminded of just how much she had lost in Milton. It had been some time since she had thought of poor Bessy Higgins, but her new companionship with Edith reminded her of one of her only friends, and she was struck again by how much she had lost in so short a time.

Wandering into the hall after breakfast she spied her name on the table where the post was placed to be distributed amongst the household. A surge of energy had her snatch up the letter and check the seal. Mrs Thornton had replied! Almost unable to check the animation she suddenly felt, she called for her footman and set off for a walk to the nearest park. Striding quickly through the streets, she soon found herself a convenient and out the way bench to sit on, and eagerly tore open her letter.

Marlborough Mill

Miss Hale

I am sorry to hear of your despondency, however sometimes you must allow yourself to grieve. It is true that a purpose may allow you to manage your grief, but you must not push it aside. It is not selfish to want a sympathetic ear, do not allow your wish for meaningful conversation to add to the guilt you already feel over your situation. I have enough faith in your strength of character to understand that you will not do what you think is wrong. If your family is pushing you, stand firm. It would not do to compromise your standards. Especially if they are suggesting improper amusement. A small amount of frivolous diversion is not always improper, but I trust that you shall know the difference.

Do not stop yourself from feeling happy. You need not feel guilty for happiness; it is not possible to be sad all the time. Do not cling to your misery. Feel it and move on.

As for purpose, you will simply have to create your own purpose, one that is not reliant on others.

I cannot make this situation better for you but know that you have a willing ear in me. I know grief all too well, and while it is not the same, there are always similarities to be found in these situations. You are not alone. The pain you feel will eventually fade, and you will look back on your memories fondly. You will always miss your parents, Miss Hale, that will never change, but I feel you are strong enough to not be overcome.

I am here if you require help, Miss Hale. You need not fear improper suggestions from me.

Hannah Thornton

P.S. Moments after I declared I would offer no impropriety I was set upon by my son, who wishes to know of your welfare. If you will permit it, I shall give him your letter to read. I will own that John has read your first letter as I felt your words would be better than mine. I admit that I was still angry with you for your treatment of him and felt that he deserved to see your apologies himself. If I overstepped, I apologise, but I have done what I thought was best.

Margaret hardly knew what to think. So much in one letter! The emotions rushing through her almost set her trembling. But the relief she felt at such understanding was so profound that she could hardly keep her seat. She had never had such a sensible woman to turn to before and the difference between her family and Mrs Thornton was staggering. Even though she felt that Edith understood her better after her outburst the other night, she had still been prodding her for weeks to let go of her melancholy and enjoy the world, but it was not until Mrs Thornton but it in such a straight forward way that she even considered that she could do it. She was sorry that her attitude when she arrived in Milton was such that Mrs Thornton felt no urge to begin a friendship (not that Margaret would have warmly welcomed her) and now felt the loss of wisdom such a lady could have imparted. Especially considering the circumstances of her mother's death.

And Mr Thornton! He was asking after her. Surely, he would not care so much if he had not forgiven her. And to question his mother enough that she would simply hand her letter over must show a keen interest in her wellbeing. How she wished she could write to him directly! But that would certainly be outside the realm of propriety Mrs Thornton would be willing to tolerate, and short of being deceitful there was no way she could communicate with him. She would certainly allow Mrs Thornton to show him her letter, despite how much despair it contained, but she would ask Mrs Thornton to relay her reassurance that she was better and happier already from Mrs Thornton's advice. Yes, he would know that she was thinking of him.

She was just about the return home when she heard her name being called. With growing trepidation, she turned and saw Henry walking towards her. She could not escape his notice and so resigned herself to at least greeting him.

"Mr Lennox."

"Oh, come now, Margaret, it has been years since you called me that."

"I do not feel that we are close enough for such familiarity, Mr Lennox. I think I hardly know you."

"Margaret, friends argue all the time. It does not stop them being friends."

"Perhaps not, but being needlessly cruel and not apologising are not the actions of a friend." Margaret turned away from him. "Do excuse me, I am needed at home."

She walked away as quickly as she could, but Henry caught her easily and matched her pace.

"Is that what you want, Margaret? An apology?"

"No. I want you to decide for yourself that I am owed an apology."

Henry laughed. "You are being difficult today, Margaret."

"You will refer to me as Miss Hale, Mr Lennox. Such familiarity is for my friends and you are not my friend. Only when you remember your manners will I consider a friendship with you." With a regal toss of her head, Margaret forged onwards, ignoring Henry's look of shock.

"Do you accuse me of being unmannerly?" He called to her.

"I do. Your behaviour has left me in no doubt of it."

Henry blinked at her and said nothing for the remainder of the time it took to reach home. Once inside, Margaret left Henry in the hallway and made her way to her room to consider him. It was clear he thought there was nothing wrong in his actions at dinner two nights ago, and Margaret would not allow him to believe he was correct. He did not have the right to an opinion on the company she kept, and she would soon disabuse him of the notion that she would allow him to continue seeking what she had once denied. His sheer arrogance infuriated her, and it took her some time to calm down enough to write a reply to Mrs Thornton. She did not wish to write another letter so full of sadness and so waited until she had a measure of equanimity before she began writing.

Just as she picked up her pen, a knock sounded on her door. Calling out for them to enter, Margaret was unsurprised when Edith walk in to her room. She smiled at her as Edith sat on the edge of her bed.

"I take it you have come to take up Henry's case for him?"

"Oh, Margaret, am I that transparent?"

"No, I merely know you very well."

Edith laughed. "I suppose you do. To be honest though, I am not sure I am quite ready to be on his side. He is absolutely refusing to see what he did wrong! Even my little Sholto seems to know better than he does. But you will forgive him eventually, won't you? When he apologises?"

Margaret sighed. "I suppose I will, even if at the moment I do not feel much cordiality towards him."

"I still cannot believe he will not see that he is wrong! His pig-headedness astounds me. I had always thought him perfectly reasonable until now. He fancies himself too clever in my opinion."

"Perhaps it is as you said the other day." Margaret mused. "A man scorned will say anything to wound."

"Scorned? How can he be scorned if he never put himself forward?"

Margaret blushed.

"Margaret, Mr Thornton is not the only man you have refused, is he?"

She shook her head. "No. Henry proposed to me before I left Helstone. It was so long ago though! I had thought he would move on, for he never truly loved me." She considered her more recent interactions with Henry. "I should probably have seen this coming. He was quite rude to Mr Thornton at the Exhibition last year, quite without provocation. I never imagined it would be something as silly as jealousy!"

Edith looked sceptical but accepted her words. "Poor Margaret! Another woman would love having two men fight over her. But not you! In any case, he should not be so rude to you. He shall not be invited here until he learns to treat you properly. We have made you uncomfortable enough already, I will not purposefully make it worse."

Margaret smiled. "You are too good to me, Edith."

"Nonsense. Now, Nurse and I are going to take Sholto out the park this afternoon since it is such a lovely day. Will you come?"

Her smile widened. "I would love to."

Edith jumped up with glee. "Oh, this shall be a wonderful afternoon! I shall see you at lunch, Margaret." And with that, Edith left the room in a flurry of skirts.

Margaret smiled indulgently at her closed door for a moment before once again picking up her pen and settled herself in to write.

Harley Street

Mrs Thornton,

Once again, I am truly grateful to receive your reply. Thank you ever so much for the advice you have provided. No one here seems to quite understand my grief (even though, due to a certain situation a few days ago, my cousin is trying her best) and knowing that you can comprehend my feelings makes me feel a little less alone.

And now I feel I must explain my reference to a 'certain situation'. Truth be told I quite lost my temper a few nights ago, but I hope you will not judge me too harshly when I tell you it was all in defence of Milton. I am sure I have surprised you!

To be very truthful, I have seen my behaviour when I first arrived in Milton in a very unflattering light and beg leave to apologise for my condescending ways. How you were so calm with me I have no idea and I am sure you must have been heartily glad to leave my company, for I was very glad to escape my family when they were stating the same opinions I know myself to have held at some point.

In all honesty, though I argued with my family (I must admit it was rather more like me shouting at them) I am glad it happened, for now Edith has taken it upon herself to champion me, and I no longer feel like I am shouting to make myself known. She has not suggested anything improper since and has gone out of her way to plan activities I will enjoy taking part in (we are to go for a stroll in the park with my nephew this afternoon; normally she would let the nurse take care of this), and I dearly hope she continues to do so until I feel comfortable enough setting aside my mourning.

In response to your post script, I am perfectly at ease with you allowing Mr Thornton to read the letters I sent to you. If you are unsure in future, please know that I will make it clear if I intend what I write to remain strictly between the two of us, should you feel the need to share anymore of my letters. Please do tell Mr Thornton that I am feeling much better than I did when I wrote my last letter. I know it was full of despair, and I would not have either of you unduly concerned.

Dear me! I am being quite self-centred in my writings. I have completely neglected to ask after your health! I do hope that you are both well and that all is as it should be at the mill.

I must close now, for I am being summoned most forcefully by my nephew, who has somehow managed to escape his nurse and find his way to my room.

I remain most gratefully yours,

Margaret Hale

"Now, Sholto, where are your manners! Do you not know you must knock before entering a lady's room?" She scooped him up, smiling at his giggles. "And her bedroom no less! You are quite the scoundrel young sir. We must teach you some manners."

He laughed at her tone, before settling down quite happily on her lap. Edith must not have closed the door properly on her way out, for Sholto was not quite big enough to be opening doors on his own just yet.

"Since you are here, Sholto, would you like to help me?" An excited nod was her response. "You must help me send this letter. I shall melt the wax and then you may stamp it."

Keeping the candle and hot wax away from Sholto's grasping hands proved to be simple enough. Sholto was delighted when they pressed the stamp to the little puddle of wax and was even happier to be entrusted with the letter as they made their way downstairs.

"Now Sholto, you must be very careful as you hold this, understood?"

"Yes Auntie"

"Good, come, we shall go and find the servant to send it out for us."

Held securely in her arms, Sholto and Margaret made their way downstairs, finding a servant to take her letter in the entrance hall. Sholto passed over his precious cargo (with some encouragement from Margaret for he was reluctant to part with it) and they made their way back to the nursey, finding the fretful nurse on the landing.

Handing her charge over, Margaret proceeded on to the library and settled herself in to read until lunch.

The rest of the day passed in a joyful state. They spent a delightful few hours at the park, allowing Sholto to run as much as his little legs would allow him. Later that night, as Margaret was readying for bed, she was unsurprised to hear a knock on her door. She was surprised however, by who opened it.

Since her outburst at dinner, her Aunt Shaw had not spoken much to her past what courtesy would demand of being in the same room. That she was here now astonished Margaret.

Mrs Shaw, an indolent lady at best, came and sat on Margaret's bed with a long sigh.

"I think I may have been neglecting you since you arrived here, Margaret."

Margaret could not say out loud that she agreed, but her silence seemed to tell Mrs Shaw what she thought.

"I see now that removing you so quickly from Milton may not have been in your best interests. You were right to demand your Thornton visit."

Margaret accepted this with a nod. "I know you meant well." She would not say that she believed Mrs Shaw's motives had a decent dose of self-interest but was feeling particularly magnanimous that evening after such a wonderful afternoon and so forgave her that fault.

"I have been speaking with Edith."

Margaret tensed. What would Edith have shared? "Oh?"

"Yes. I realise now that forcing you out of mourning so quickly is not what you wish. I will not force you to plead illness to avoid evenings out again, Margaret. I will let you decide how you proceed."

"Thank you, Aunt. Knowing I have the support of my family makes me far less miserable."

"Good. And do not fear about Henry. I will not have such a rude man in my home. He will certainly feel the consequences of his actions before we grant him clemency."

"Thank you, Aunt."

With a smile and a brief goodnight, Mrs Shaw left, and Margaret could not help but consider the difference in how she felt now, merely two days after her family started listening, compared to those first few weeks of loneliness. No wonder she had lost control in such a way!

Now she was alone though, she felt the familiar stirring of longing for her parents. It had been over a month since her father died and the fact that she did not have the chance to say a proper goodbye weighed heavily on her. At least her mother was surrounded by family when she died.

Margaret comforted herself that her parents were now together, away from the worries of their mortal lives. She hoped that they would not judge her too harshly for her poor behaviour since arriving on London.

Lying on her bed she considered how her mild parents would have reacted if they had seen her act the way she had. It was likely that she would receive nothing more than a gentle rebuke, not a punishment, but it would have shamed her nonetheless. Oh, but she would give anything to receive even a disappointed frown from them again. It had been such a long time since she had seen her mother, she was beginning to forget what she looked like. That, more than anything else in that moment, caused her to weep. The thought that she would eventually forget what her father looked like had her distraught.

Hiccupping into her pillow she tried to think of who she could discuss this particular upset with but found she could not imagine speaking of it. Her aunt lost her husband many years ago, and their marriage was not one of love. Edith rarely saw her father when he was alive, when he died it had no effect on her life. And to ask Mrs Thornton to speak in anything but the broadest terms about her husband seemed unreasonably cruel. To ask her to relive her feelings immediately after that devastating event merely to satisfy her wish for some morbid kind of companionship was not something Margaret could do.

Her mind turned to Mr Thornton, but she forcefully pushed him from her thoughts. He would certainly be understanding, but he too missed her father. Making him comfort her at the expense of his own feelings made her miserable at the mere thought of using him in such a way. He deserved far better than that.

Despite her attempt to think of something else, she could not shift her thoughts of Mr Thornton. He had been so good to them, sometimes the realisation of how awfully she treated him struck her sharply and all she could do was ache with the regret that his was a far superior character to hers, no matter all her posturing about the poor.

Eventually Margaret fell asleep but woke with such a depression of spirits that she could hardly find the energy to move out of bed. The lethargy from those first days of grief resettled over her, and even poor Sholto could not break the haze that surrounded her. She went through the motions of the day, eating mechanically and not attending the conversation around her.

It was a relief to escape to her room that night, away from the concerned glances she could do nothing about. She knew Edith was worried for her. Unfortunately, there was nothing that Edith could do for her this time, having the support of her remaining family did not fill the gap left by her parents, and she could not envisage ever not feeling hollow.

Sleep again did not come easily and the next day she was even more tired. Normally an early riser (especially when compared to her city dwelling relations) she was almost shocked when she rose and found she had missed breakfast. As it was, she found it hard for any emotion to pierce the shroud of sadness that surrounded her, and so made her way to the dining room with her gloom following her like a shadow.

Eyeing the left-over food with something that was nearly distaste, Margaret changed her mind about eating and returned to her room. There she sat until summoned to lunch, where Edith attempted to make conversations with her, but soon gave up at the lack of answer. Pulling herself back up the stairs to retire once more sapped Margaret of her remaining energy and she collapsed onto her bed once she reached it.

The simmering anger that leant her strength before her outburst was gone, and the inclination to keep busy, gone with it. Books did not hold her attention (they reminded her of all her father's now sold books) and walking would only remind her of Milton. It seemed she would be confined to staring at walls until she found a spark of happiness again.

Several days passed, each as long and unvarying as the one before, before Margaret found a bit of liveliness. It seemed that Mrs Thornton was correct. The grief would pass. While the sorrow remained, it was no longer so heavy, and she was not exhausted by walking down the stairs for breakfast. Edith was happy to see her looking a little less tired and was even happier to receive a response above a pitiful whisper at her enquiries.

Margaret felt somewhat ashamed to have caused such a worry and promised to not allow herself to get into such a state again. She was hopeful though, that the worst was over, and she would be capable of managing the melancholy when it inevitably hit her once again.

While she did feel much better, she had still not recovered enough to be able to go for her customary walk. Edith noticed her longing for the outdoors and proposed an outing in the open carriage the captain kept for her. Feeling stifled inside made the prospect of a carriage ride seem wonderful and they were soon on their way round one of the larger parks.

"Are you feeling better now, Margaret?"

Margaret could not help but smile. "Yes Edith, I am feeling much better. I must admit being in the sun is doing wonders for me."

"Is there anything we could have done for you? I do not like seeing you so sad."

"I'm afraid not, Edith. But do not fear, I believe that I am coming to a better understanding of my emotions. It shall not be so bad again."

"As long as you know I am willing to help you."

"I do know. I feel incredibly guilty for worrying you so."

"Oh, Margaret! You do not need to feel guilty for something that isn't your fault."

"Thank you, Edith."

Their outing continued in a much more light-hearted manner, ending at the shops not far from home. Edith could not pass by without a look inside, and Margaret followed in good humour.

While Edith was in raptures over a pretty silk, Margaret wandered to the back of the shop where the more durable (and far less expensive) fabrics were displayed. As she stood there she became aware of a conversation happening down the next row.

"…delayed a bit, but the Milton manufacturers have rallied as they always do. We've just had a delivery come in from Hamper's Mill, I imagine Marlborough Mill is not far behind, they usually arrive within a day of each other."

"Very good, Jones. Let me know when the next lot come in and…"

The voices drifted away from her and she could not quite believe that she had heard. She knew that Marlborough Mills would have customers up and down the country, but to know that the very shop Edith and she had used for several years got its wares from Mr Thornton shocked her. Somehow, Milton did not feel all that far away in that moment.

Edith found her still stood there a few minutes later and led her back to the carriage. Before they boarded, Margaret caught site of the bookshop on the corner and begged for a few moments to indulge herself. Edith was obviously happy to consent and allowed herself to be pulled through the shelves.

Once Edith meandered away, Margaret set her sights to the informative tomes hiding away from the fiction Edith favoured. There, Margaret set about finding all she could on industry. Soon enough, Edith found her, and Margaret quickly purchased the most recently written volume on the expansion of industry in the north of England. Edith did not question her choice of reading material (perhaps because Margaret purposefully hid the title) and eventually they arrived home, happy to relax until dinner.

Margaret took the chance to delve into her book and later emerged for dinner wondering how she had ever been able to dismiss Mr Thornton's pride in his town. Even the small amount she had read showed her how vastly she must had underestimated the power held in Milton. No wonder he had argued with her!

Her notions of superiority were painful to remember, especially as she held herself above Mr Thornton for being a manufacturer, but not above Higgins, who merely worked for him. How frustrated Mr Thornton must have been with her, constantly arguing over things she had never understood.

She dearly wished for an excuse to visit Milton but could not foresee ever getting the opportunity. She could not go alone, and it was unlikely she would find anyone willing to take her. Margaret resigned herself to feeling regretful of her behaviour and joined her family that night in much higher spirits than she had previously.

Later, as they were all gathered in the parlour, the Captain addressed her.

"Well Margaret, you seem much better today."

"Yes, I am feeling far more alive than I have in previous days. I hope the worst of it is over."

"Well you seem to be on the up and out so let's hope you continue to be so."

Margaret smiled at it him.

"Now Margaret, really I have come with a secret motive. You must tell me of your life in Milton. If I am to seriously look into investing, I must know everything about the people there."

"You want to hear of Milton?"

"Yes, everything you can tell me. The best way to deal with people is to learn about them. That's why we have spies in the army."

"So you want me to be your spy?" Margaret found this idea amusing and was not opposed to it.

"Yes indeed! You have been behind enemy lines, Margaret. You can tell me all the little secrets they would not expose to someone when they want their money."

Margaret laughed. "They are not your enemy!"

He joined her laughter. "Perhaps not, but they want what's in my purse and that must be protected with my life."

"Well, what is it you wish to know? I will do my best to answer your questions."

"Excellent! Tell me your opinion of the masters. Are they trustworthy? Are they good men? I know how highly you think of Mr Thornton, do the other masters measure up?"

"I honestly did not have as much to do with the other masters as I did with Mr Thornton. I have met them all of course, but they did not make much of an impression. The workers did not think much of them. They owned Mr Thornton to be fair but would not say the same for the other masters."

"Hmmm… so they are not admired by their workers?"

Margaret laughed. "Would you admire a man you had to call 'Master'? A lot of the men are treated unfairly. I am not surprised that admiration is lacking."

"But they admire Mr Thornton?"

"No, I would not say they admire him, more like a grudging respect. They dislike him due to his position but know that he will be just. He is firm but honest."

"I remember you mentioning the wheel. What were the other master's reasons for not installing one?"

"It is not cost effective. It is a large amount of money with no immediate or apparent return. Mr Thornton claims it to be a long-term investment, but the others disagree."

"And what do you think?"

"I cannot say. All I know is that Mr Thornton's mill is safer to work in because of it. If that is not a good enough reason to install one, I do not think much of your ability to look after your workers."

"You have a great interest in the workers."

"They were my friends. And I do not think the other masters particularly liked me. It makes sense that I would want the best for my friends."

"You are right. It does make sense to want that."

Margaret fell silent for a moment. "I am sorry I did not pay more attention to my father's discussions while I was in Milton. I would be able to answer your questions about the mills if I had."

"It is no matter! If I wanted to know of their trade I would simply ask. No, I wish to know of their character before I approach them. A man with a good character is less likely to cheat me out of my money."

Their discussion continued some minutes longer before they all separated for bed.

The next day dawned with a letter waiting for Margaret. Scooping it up, she left for the garden and sat to read.

Marlborough Mill

Miss Hale,

We are well here, thank you for your concern. It would seem that your permission to grant my son access to your letters has made him very happy. He asks that I write you that all is well at the mill and he is glad you are feeling better about your accord with your family. I too am glad that you have finally been able to express yourself and now have their support. It will make things much easier to have them there.

We both accept your apology for your behaviour in Milton. I admit that it must be difficult to come from a place that is the opposite of Milton in every way. I imagine I would be rather judgemental should I be forced away from my home here and deposited in your village, away from everything that I know.

It is clear that you have learnt from your mistakes and rethought your attitude. I cannot look down on someone who is willing to listen – no matter how long it may take them. To that end, you are young. You should allow your opinions to change. I do not advise you to be inconstant, but a hardened mind does not allow growth. You have shown a great capacity to grow, make sure you do not lose it in these difficult times.

I hope you continue to feel better. You are likely to feel sadness for some time, but it is clear you shall be well enough.

Yours,

Hannah Thornton

Mr Thornton was happy! She had done that! She had made him happy. Her! All thoughts of guilt brought on by her behaviour to him were banished as she clutched her letter to her chest. He was happy! She did not realise that such contentment could be found in someone else's joy. Her feeling of elation carried her up the stairs to her to begin composing her reply. She forgot all about the sadness she had crumpled under that week, forgot all about the feud with Henry, and thought only about Milton.

She was grateful for Mrs Thornton's (and Mr Thornton's) forgiveness for her rudeness and was glad she could move on from her regrets. It was a freeing feeling to be released from her guilt, and a great weight lifted from her mind.

She almost worried that she would have nothing to say to Mrs Thornton now she felt secure in her emotions, but before she could worry about making inconsequential small talk, she caught the corner of her new book peeking out from under her pillow. Margaret had continued reading it the previous night and now found her curiosity was aroused. She was sure that Mrs Thornton would not mind questions about Milton, and so set out to fill the gaps in her knowledge.

Harley Street

Mrs Thornton,

Thank you ever so much for your acceptance. It means more than I can articulate here. You were right about experiencing grief. I have found that at times I am unable to stop myself sinking into despair. Thankfully I am coming to understand my emotions and I hope, in time, to be able to bring myself out of such a state with more ease. Rest assured, I am well, I merely miss my life as it was.

I hope all remains well in Milton. My cousin's husband has been asking all kinds of questions that I cannot answer about the industry there. His questioning has led me to start reading and I must admit that I wish I had listened far more carefully to Mr Thornton and my father when they used to discuss business. I know hardly anything – something I can barely believe considering how long I lived in Milton!

My reading has led me to other aspects of the industry I had never considered before. I find myself fascinated by the canals. Such structures – all man made! The vast size of these pathways amazes me. And the locks! I never could have imagined such ingenuity would exist merely for the sake of transporting goods. The concept of sailing a boat over a mountain range astounds me.

Does Marlborough Mill make use of the canal that runs through Milton? I sincerely regret not taking you up on your offer of a tour of the mill. I feel remarkably silly for neglecting such an opportunity. I can see now why my father spent as much time speaking of business as he did philosophy, and now understand Mr Thornton's pride in the advancement of the technologies used in Milton. It is worthy of the most profound respect. Please Mrs Thornton, if you have time, could you enlighten me on the process in the mill? For all the time I spent with the workers, I have very selfishly refused to understand what part they played in that great machine.

Please give my regards to Mr Thornton. I hope you both remain well.

Yours sincerely,

Margaret Hale

Letter sealed and sent, Margaret went about her day as usual. She passed the next week agreeably and enjoyed the weather as her strength returned. Her interest in her book never waned and it was a few days after she finished it that she received a reply for Mrs Thornton. Once she was sequestered away from her family, she pulled her letter open. This one seemed far heftier than her previous correspondence, and she was surprised to see that this reply contained a second letter folded up inside the first. Curiosity piqued, she began the first letter.

Marlborough Mill

Miss Hale,

I am glad you are well and recovering from your latest brush with sadness. You are obviously a strong young woman, you will be perfectly able to handle your distress when it comes on again I am sure.

As to your request for more knowledge, I am happy to oblige your questioning. In this instance however, I feel that others may be able to inform you of what you want to know far better than I. If, in this instance, I have gone too far, you need only say, and it will not happen again.

My son and I are well.

Yours faithfully,

Hannah Thornton

Brow furrowed, Margaret picked up the second letter. Why would Mrs Thornton feel she had gone too far? What on earth could she mean by it? The outside of the letter offered her no clues. It was completely blank, and so Margaret pulled it open. It was written in a different hand to Mrs Thornton's, but Margaret did not take in any of the words. Her eyes immediately skipped to the bottom of the last of the pages and she gasped. It could not be! But there, clear as day, was the author's name and Margaret could only stare in shock.

John Thornton had written to her.

Thank you for reading. For all of you who worried about how sad Margaret is, don't worry! The worst is over. Hopefully I don't make any more of you cry! Once again, I'm aiming for an update in about a month, but it all depends on how busy we are with work, so it may be closer to six weeks again.