Hello again! I can only apologise for how long this has taken me! I hope you enjoy this next installment :D

Margaret went about her days as she usually did. Now that her grief had lessened she found it much easier to keep herself employed throughout the course of the day. She often helped Edith in her duties as mistress of the house, and while she still did not join her when calling on others, Margaret ensured she sat in on some of Edith's callers. She still found the inanity of it all somewhat frustrating, but was much better able to manage her feelings, and formed an amused resignation to her daily routine including these calls.

Fortunately she was not required to sit in on all of them, and since there was no one to call on her specifically, she was able to escape on days she did not feel particularly patient.

One day, a couple called on Edith and the captain. Margaret was already present and decided to stay and see what she might glean from the captain's conversation. Mr and Mrs Keely were an amiable couple. Margaret thought Mrs Keely somewhat air headed, but could not fault her manners, and so generally enjoyed her visits. Mr Keely had a keen mind, not as closed off as other gentlemen she knew, and looked forward to listening in on his conversations when he caught the captain at home. Thankfully this was one of those occasions.

"Well, Edith, have you heard the news? It is said that Miss Dean is engaged to Mr Edling! I should never have guessed it, although I do remember seeing them dance at the Jeffrey's ball a few weeks ago and I did think then what a handsome couple they made! Of course it is no surprise…"

Margaret let the rest of the words wash over her. While truly a lovely lady, Mrs Keely did like to gossip. It was never malicious, but it was more than just the sharing of news. Keen to miss the dissection of the relationship of two people she had never met, she turned her attention to Mr Keely and the captain.

"..it looked to be a fair prospect but I found the risk far outweighed the reward. Only those with a truly disposable income should think of investing in something that uncertain. I could afford the losses but at the present moment I would much rather prefer not to."

The captain saw her listening in on the conversation and invited her to join them.

"Margaret probably knows far more than I do on the matter. She lived in Milton until very recently."

"Ah of course! I had forgotten it was Milton that you lived, Miss Hale. Tell me, did you ever hear of the speculation regarding the rail road?"

Margaret inclined her head. "I did indeed. I am unsurprised that you turned down the opportunity to gamble your money there. It was a good cause for debate in Milton."

"I take it you know the mill owners?"

"I have met them all, but my father was great friends with Mr Thornton."

"Thornton, eh? Never known a straighter man than him. He is unbelievably honest when it comes to his investors. He never sugar-coats his methods. You always know what you're getting if Thornton is involved."

The captain seemed surprised by this estimation of Mr Thornton. "Margaret had told us he is honourable but I never imagined to hear praise from you as well. How small the world seems to be!"

"How do you know Mr Thornton, may I ask, Mr Keely?"

"My father did business with Marlborough Mill's predecessor. It seemed natural to continue the relationship when Thornton took over and my father died. I knew he would be a sensible investment, what with him ensuring his father's debts were payed off. I like men who take their responsibilities seriously. He refused to speculate, did he not?"

"Yes he refused. Much to the confusion of the masters, I might add."

"Only half a wit between the lot of them. Thornton might be the youngest of them, but he certainly has more about him. He, at least, understands long term investments and does not expect money in his pocket immediately. The others cannot see the bigger picture usually."

"I did notice, that although he is clearly respected, they do seem to disregard some of his methods."

"Indeed. Has he told you of the wheel?"

"He has. I think it a very good thing."

"Then we may be the only three that do. He was mocked viciously when he first had it installed."

"That seems very unfeeling on the other master's part. No matter his reasons for installing it, if it can protect the workers somewhat, should that not be a cause for its success."

"My thoughts exactly. Did Thornton explain why he had it put in?"

"Oh yes. He spoke about the long term benefits associated with training less workers because his live longer in comparison."

"And what did you think of his explanation?"

"That he merely wishes to hide that he does not want his workers dying when he could prevent it quite easily."

Mr Keely's eyes sparkled. "You have caught him out. He gave you his sales pitch – a rather successful sale pitch, I might add. But ultimately that wheel was put in to protect the people working in those rooms and for no other reason. The nonsense about long term investments came after."

"I knew it!" Margaret flushed at her outburst. "Pardon me. I simply meant that it was clear in his dealings with the men that he does not merely care for his profits."

Mr Keely laughed. "You need not pretend to not be smug with me. For all that he is honest, he is a wily beast when it comes to his motives. That you saw through him surprises me. Were you often in his company?"

"Quite often. As I said, he and my father were great friends. He did a lot for us when we were in Milton."

"Well, it is always good to find you have a friend in common. Did you know his sister well? I imagine you are around the same age."

"I am afraid I did not see as much of Mrs Watson. I do correspond with Mrs Thornton frequently though. She gave my mother a great deal of comfort."

"May I tell you a secret, Miss Hale?"

Margaret nodded.

"Mrs Thornton terrifies me!"

She could not help laughing. "She is not so scary, sir. Have you done something to offend her?"

"Not that I know of, but she always seems so stern that I cannot help but feel chastised."

"Oh she is not that bad. You just need to get to know her properly."

"I shall leave the getting to know her to you, and hide behind her son whenever I visit. Now, has my wife finished her stories yet? I believe we have an urgent appointment at the haberdashery that I was told simply could not be missed."

Mr and Mrs Keely took their leave, and Margaret went to her room to think on her conversation. Truly all it did was make it clearer how good Mr Thornton was. He merely played the overbearing master. She was glad of the Keely's visit, if for no other reason than she has not heard anything new of Milton for quite some time. With only two correspondents in Milton, her capacity for news was somewhat limited. Still, she was grateful to find a business associate of Mr Thornton who also thought him trustworthy. She was happy to hear something good of him.

Taking out her letters her locked chest, he reread Mr Thornton's. How could there be so few, yet it feel like she had always been writing to him? It seemed such a natural thing to do that her initial shock at receiving a letter from him now seemed silly. She wondered at the possibility of becoming proper correspondents, with the disguise of business. She had certainly written for less of business in her letter than she did previously and she had worried for a few short moments that he would not want that kind of correspondence, before pushing those thoughts away and thinking of the positives. He may yet reply than even less business than she had sent. She would simply have to wait.

Placing her letters back in their hiding space, Margaret readied herself for her daily walk. She found that the parks no longer seemed as confining, now that she was in a position to enjoy nature again. It had taken her the few months she had been in London to grow used to the tamed hedgerows and manicured lawns. But she could appreciate the flowers that grew along the paths and no longer resented having to circle continuously in order to fulfil her need for exercise. Margaret missed the challenge of the hills in Milton and the clean calmness of the forests in Helstone, but still was able to enjoy being in the outdoors in town.

She pondered the direction of her life as she strolled. While she certainly had never imagined her situation being what it was now, it took her some time to realise that anything she had previously considered as perhaps being her future, had now been cast aside. She had changed so much in the years she had lived in Milton that her life before seemed a world away. Back in Helstone she had no thought she had no thought of how she would eventually leave her parent's home. Now they had left her instead, and she may have the opportunity to take that next step in her life, she felt lost. Her parents had been unable to watch their son marry, and neither of them would know of her future family. It saddened her, but did not cause the same distressing that agony that thoughts of her parents used to bring. The pain had numbed to a dull ache; it never quite left, but she could manage it. Wending her way home, Margaret hoped she would have a letter waiting for her, but was disappointed.

She would be disappointed for the rest of that week for she did not receive a reply until the beginning of the next. When she did spot the letter sat on the platter waiting to be found, Margaret was elated. She tucked it into her pocket and carried on to the dining room for lunch. Edith seemed to notice her preoccupation, and followed her from the room when they were finished.

Upon reaching her room, Edith excitedly jumped on the bed and demanded to know what had her so distracted.

"I think you have guessed already, Edith."

"I have indeed. Now come, open the letters."

Margaret obliged quite happily. This time she began with Mrs Thornton.

Marlborough Mill

Miss Hale,

You need not thank me as often as you do. Truth be told, I quite enjoy our correspondence, no matter how you may think I have been forced into this. I do not often get the chance to speak to sensible young ladies, and I look forward to your replies.

You must look at this time in your life as a transitionary period. You will not always be at your aunt's, and though it may not be perfectly clear now, your future is waiting for you. No matter what, you will always meet it when you should. Do not fret your life away wishing to be elsewhere, but do not worry about knowing you will eventually move on.

My daughter is planning a trip down to London in the near future. She has asked for your advice on the most fashionable shops. I had hoped that she would attempt to visit the places she cannot here – such as the museums and galleries- but I think it unlikely that she will bother. I imagine she will attend some music evenings when she can, but that will be the limit of her exposure to culture.

My son has been rather more involved in the mill this than he normally is. His dedication makes me extremely proud, much as I wish he could be at the house more. The strike affected us more than the other mills, but we shall rally as we always do.

Do you find that you are happier now? Your letters seem far less despondent. I hope it is the case, for I do not believe young people should have to suffer as much as I have seen them do in my life. A little difficulty in life builds character, but it is not worth the risk of stripping away everything that makes a person who they are. I hope these events have not changed you completely.

I look forward to hearing from you again.

Kind regards,

Hannah Thornton

Margaret was almost astounded. While she would never accuse Mrs Thornton of insincerity, she had honestly thought she only kept up the correspondence to appease her son. She was pleased to know that she could consider Mrs Thornton a friend. With a smile she picked up her second letter.

Miss Hale,

I admit I was surprised to read your letter and find that you feared I would think you impertinent or asking questions. Given our experience, I rather thought you enjoyed questioning my decisions, but perhaps I have assumed you enjoyed our debates as much as I did.

While I would normally immediately agree to any request you make, I am going to keep my snapped belt to myself a little longer. I think, between the two of us, we can find enough to speak of without resorting to that particular story.

The looms are quite easy to understand once you have been shown them. I have enough space between each machine to navigate properly. They are dangerous enough as is, we do not need the added risk of falls. The looms only have one process, and they take several people to man them properly. It is most likely best to simply watch the men working, than have me attempt to explain. To be more succinct, the looms are easy to use and we space them adequately.

I have indeed seen Higgins and Mary recently. Higgins continues to attempt to rile me up whenever he can, but I have become wise to his tricks and simply send him on his way. Did you know that knew about your brother? I must admit to a fair amount of shock when I found that out! He knew it as well, for he was unbearably smug about the whole thing. But I must commend him for his discretion. He obviously cares deeply for your family, as does his daughter. The only time she have spoken in my presence is to ask after you.

I believe she does a great deal to care for the Boucher children. Like yourself, I would struggle to care for so many young children alone. I do not think I could even have managed if I was alone with only Fanny to care for. But they all seem to love her a great deal.

Young Tommy Boucher seems determined to become a scholar. I have never seen him without a book in his hands. I have half a mind to give him a loom manual to see how he takes to it! He had run out of tales the last time I saw him, and had resorted to reading an old union pamphlet. He will become quite the revolutionary if he is actually absorbing anything he is reading!

Your nephew sounds like a delight. Is he a good mannered boy? I have known bad tempered children and pitied the nurses forced to care for them. I do think you might be right about Mothers and Sons though. In my experience there is a different bond between a man and his mother. Of course it depends on the woman in question as to the amount of mischief a boy is allowed to make, but I think even the strictest lady will allow her son more room for trouble than she might a daughter. My mother was not particularly strict in my youth. She enjoyed keeping me entertained and always ensured I had a willing playmate. It was only later when she was forced to become so serious. My father's death changed her. Not in fundamentals, but rather in how she expresses herself. I think she only wants for some young company to remember how she was.

At the risk of upsetting you, I have indeed forgotten aspects of my father's face. I have a faded impression of him in my mind, but no clear detail. I obviously remember him as he was, the way he spoke, his great knowledge, his ability to make my mother laugh. I will never forget those parts if his personality that I loved the most. His face may fade away but the memory of him will always be with me.

I can only accept your offer to forgive and forget gladly. I would indeed shake on it if you were here and I am grateful you have no forgotten our Northern ways yet. But I am happy to put it behind us and move on.

Have you recovered your spirits? I know when my father died it took me a very long time to feel steady again. Even my mother's presence was not enough to stop my emotions swinging wildly from one extreme to another. I fear I was very angry for a long time after his death, and it took me years to finally forgive him.

Despite the circumstances of his death, and my youthful inability to process it, I still found myself missing him. I cannot imagine how you found cheer so quickly. I feared you would be very upset for quite an extended mourning. Your fortitude is admirable. I am sure I cannot understand how much you miss your father. I miss him, and he was merely a friend. He had a way of making you care greatly for him.

I find I occasionally tell myself to remember to question Mr Hale about some matter or other, before realising he is no longer with us. I should have liked to attend his funeral. He deserved to have his friends in attendance, so I will not begrudge his Oxford brethren their chance for saying goodbye, but it will always wish to have been there.

Please do forgive me if I have upset you, speaking this way about your father. I know you had some struggles at first with your family that are now resolved, but if you ever wish to speak of him, I will always want to hear.

Thank you for your reply, Miss Hale.

John Thornton

Stunned at such an open recounting of his struggles, Margaret spent a moment attempting to control her thoughts and did not make it immediately obvious to Edith that she had finished reading. At no point had she had any expectations of Mr Thornton's reply, but this blew away any thought she may have inadvertently had. She was gratified by his honesty and again wished to be in Milton. She had a great deal to say to him and could not imagine trying to say it by letter.

Edith had noticed her distraction by this point and began to question her.

"Margaret? You look deep in thought, what has he written of?"

"My father. His father. He has written a great deal."

"Nothing about mills?" She sounded so hopeful, Margaret had to laugh.

"Oh there is still talk of the mill, but there is much more about other things."

"May I read it?"

Margaret hesitated, but let Edith take the letter. It would be far worse to hide it from her, for then she would allow her imagination free reign, and Margaret would end up the recipient of the most flowery love letter ever written.

She watched with trepidation as Edith began to read. It was impossible to relax when Edith frowned and looked away in thought. When she looked back, Margaret started to think it was a mistake to tell Edith about these letters after all.

"It is a very nice letter."

"He has always been far too kind to me."

Edith raised an eyebrow but continued. "It would seem he cares a great deal for your feelings. He is very solicitous."

"I am sure he merely means to be polite."

"Oh Margaret!" Edith looked exasperated. "How can you possibly read this and not believe he cares for you?"

"I have told you why he cannot!"

"Well perhaps you should tell him that, for he is not acting like someone who dislikes you."

"I do not think he dislikes me. I just do not see that him not disliking me equals to more than friendship."

"It equates to more than friendship when a man is deeply in love with you."

Margaret turned away, trying to calm herself. She would not get angry at Edith for this. She must not.

"Margaret, even you are not this oblivious."

"I admit to being blind in the past, but blindness is not my issue this time."

"No, you issue this time is that you are being deliberately obtuse."

"Edith!"

"Admit it Margaret! At least to yourself. Admit that he cares for you as more than a friend."

"Why? You cannot pretend ignorance forever."

"I am not pretending ignorance."

"Well you are pretending at something. That man clearly cares for you, yet you would throw it back in his face!"

Edith's words forced her to consider when she had actually done that. At the time she was sorry for it but did not regret it. Now, the thought of their argument saddened her and Edith telling her she was doing it again upset her greatly. She turned away, unable to see Edith's accusing expression.

"Margaret, you cannot continue to deny there is nothing between you."

Margaret's expression turned mulish. "We are just friends."

Edith scoffed.

"There is nothing more than that."

"You would not risk so much for a mere friend."

Margaret hesitated. "It is not so much of a risk."

"You are risking your reputation. Yours and his. You would not do this for Henry."

"That is different."

"It is not. Before all this mess you and Henry were close. You have never defied society to write to him."

"I did not feel the need."

"You have no need to write to Mr Thornton. You could easily find what you want to know from a book. Or his mother. And he did not even write about his mill! You have no excuse."

Margaret could hear her blood rushing through her ears. She felt trapped, as if the wall were closing in on her, and her was breathing hard.

Edith seemed to take pity on her, for she softened slightly.

"You at least have to admit that you treat Mr Thornton differently from other men of your acquaintance."

"I do not see that I do." Margaret had become defensive drawing herself away from Edith as much as she could.

"That is silly, Margaret. You have admitted yourself that you did not treat Henry the same way, even when you were good friends."

Margaret was panicking. She did not want to contemplate what Edith was trying to say. It would open a door she may not be able to close.

"Margaret please." Edith's voice was quiet. "You cannot keep living in denial. It will not make either of you happy."

"What you want cannot happen."

They were both silent.

"The stop writing to him."

Margaret's eyes widened in shock, while Edith's face was hard.

"You cannot keep writing to him. It will only end in misery one way or another. Cut contact now."

"No." Margaret was firm. She would not give up one of her only sources of true happiness. She could not.

"You need to decide what you want, Margaret. You are only encouraging him."

"I am not."

"You know if Henry received a letter that engendered a response like this he would consider you engaged already."

"Mr Thornton is not Henry."

"What is the difference! You are writing to a man who is not family! You cannot honestly say that there is a difference if you claim only a friendship with him. Why do you not write to Henry? He after all, is family. Why is Henry so-"

"Because I do not love Henry!"

Both pairs of eyes widened. Margaret could not believe she had just shouted a confession of love in anger at her cousin. She was still breathing heavily, but her eyes were watering, and she would feel herself dissolving into sobs. She buried her face in her hands, unsurprised when she felt Edith pulling her to the bed to sit with her.

Eventually her tears ceased. Edith remained quiet, seemingly giving her time to control herself. But now she had said it out loud, she could not rid herself of the realisation of what she felt.

"I love him, Edith" She whispered into her hands.

Edith made a sympathetic noise. "I know you do, Margaret. You were just refusing to see it."

Margaret nodded. "I realise that now. But…oh Edith! What if he does not care for mre? I long for more than his good opinion. I cannot bear the thought of loving him and him turning elsewhere."

"I know you still insist he cannot care for you, but truly Margaret, he is not acting as a man who sees you as a friend. A friend would be content with news through his mother. From the beginning he has put every effort into gaining intelligence of you. And now he has ignored the rules of society just to speak with you. He would not do this if he had no hopes in that direction."

"I am so conflicted. I want to believe you, but I do not see how it will ever come to anything. I can hardly go calling on him."

"That is true but remember the effort he had already put forward. I think if he knows you return his feelings he will not stop until he finds a way to reunite with you."

"Do you really think so?" Margaret knew she sounded pathetically in need of reassurance but could not help it.

"Yes. I think this is a man who would do anything for you."

Margaret blinked and looked away. Would he do anything for her? After everything she had done to him, could he truly still love her? It was a heady feeling, the thought that he might love her still.

"What are you thinking?"

"Honestly? I am thinking how lucky a girl would be to be loved by Mr Thornton."

Edith giggled. "I have never really seen him. Tell me again, is he handsome?"

"I do not know if most would look at him and think him particularly handsome, but he is certainly not bad looking. He has a stern aspect. But his smile! He has a wonderful smile, Edith. It changes him completely."

She felt Edith sigh. "And does he smile often?"

"It is not his most common expression, but I have seen him smile often enough. I think I have probably seen him smile more than most, for he greatly enjoyed his discussions with my father."

"Has he smiled at you specifically?"

"Before I left for London. He was so very gently with me, Edith, I truly did not deserve it then, for he did not know about Frederick. There have been other occasions, but that one sticks in my mind."

"What else do you love about him?"

Now that she had started, she found it hard to stop. "I think I admire his presence of mind. He is always so sure of himself, he never seems to struggle doing what needs to be done. He is so very different from my parents in that respect. They would push away any difficult decisions and often leave me to deal with whatever issue they were ignoring."

"You know he would care for you properly then."

"Yes. I would not fear problems creeping between us. I think we are both willing to act when required."

"You would have a steadier marriage than most, I think. Would you be that wonderful couple that are always in perfect accord?"

"Heavens no!" She laughed. "I think we disagree more often than not. It would seem he did not mind out debates, although I'm sure at the time I made him quite angry. But I think agreeing o everything on be a boring existence. Imagine being unable to discuss anything because you have nothing to say! I could not be happy like that."

Edith laughed. "I imagine you would not! He seems absolutely perfect for you Margaret! He has shown himself to be caring, he must be clever to run his business, and he is completely trustworthy. Those are very fine characteristics."

"He is a fine man."

"I rather like him, you know. Even though I never met him properly, everything he has done for you only endears him to me. He shall make a wonderful uncle to Sholto!"

The both started giggling. "I cannot believe you have jumped from complete strangers to beloved family member! But I agree. He would make a wonderful uncle to Sholto."

Margaret sigh wistfully. She was happy to think of what their lives would be like, but still could not see how they would ever begin this picturesque life she was concocting.

"Margaret you look lost again."

"I want this more than anything, Edith. I just do not see how I am ever going to get it."

"You can start by replying to that letter and not mentioning that blasted mill!"

"Edith!" Margaret was laughing. "I could no more separate him from the mill than I could stars from the night. It will always be a part of him."

"Oh, very well, I will stop complaining, only because you both seem to actually like talking about it. But you must make sure your letter is more personal than mere enquiry. Write as if you were already engaged."

"I do not think I could dare."

"The write as you would to me. Like you are writing to family. I think he would like that."

Margaret considered. It was not as bold as behaving like they were engaged, but it still implied a level of closeness she had with very few people.

"I would like to try that."

"Good. You must begin somewhere. I cannot imagine you simply confessing to him outright, but a few hints would not go amiss."

"I suppose he would not take the fact that I replied at all as evidence of my changed opinion, would he?"

"He might, but I think there is so much between you it might be better to be more open than you normally would. Many men would not make a second attempt after a rejection as fierce as the one you gave Mr Thornton."

"Oh dear. I had not thought how difficult it must be for him to try again. It must be awful for him to receive my letters and not know if my interest is for him or his mill. He will not know my feelings have changed so much!"

"I imagine he would have an inkling, but he may not act until he is certain. His risk did not pay out last time."

Margaret buried her face in her hands. "I have made this so very complicated."

"Do not think of it like that, Margaret! All this simply means when you finally win him you will both be certain it is what you want."

"I suppose. But I cannot be as sure as you are."

"I will be sure enough for the both of us. Now come, how will you reply? I think he may have been teasing you at the start of that letter, you know." Edith grinned wickedly at her "Perhaps a little flirting would not go amiss."

"Edith!" Margaret flushed. "You cannot be suggesting I attempt to flirt with him!"

"No, to be honest I find it very hard to imagine you flirting at all. I suppose I shall have to be content with looms and cotton instead of secret love letters."

They both laughed. Standing, Margaret made her way to her writing desk and pulled pen and paper closer. Before beginning to write however, she turned back to Edith somewhat perturbed.

"Truly though, how on earth am I meant to write to him knowing what I do?"

"He manages perfectly well."

Margaret blinked. She had considered at that.

"I suppose you are right. If he fells as you say he does, this must be infinitely more difficult for him."

"Exactly. But you do not need to pretend, Margaret. Just write how you normally would. Nothing had really changed."

"Yes, well perhaps you should merely tell him. That is what he did, did he not? Ask you to forget everything he had said?"

"I suppose you are correct."

"Of course I am correct. Now, write your letter and we can both look through it, if you wish it."

"Thank you, Edith."

"Not at all, Margaret."

With a smile, Margaret turned back to her paper. She took a few long moments to determine what she wanted to say, and then picked up her pen.

Dear Mr Thornton…

I know I said last time I wouldn't give myself a deadline because I would probably miss it, but this was far longer than I anticipated! Once again, your lovely comments keep me going! Thank you for all your kind words, and I promise to not take so long next time :)