As always, thank you so much to each and every one of you for the lovely comments and all your support! I'm still on vacation, editing on my phone, so I hope there won't be too many spelling mistakes (I'll probably go over it again on my laptop once I get home).

Persuasion

Life was different after Mrs Hale's death. Something essential was missing.

Margaret went to see her father and Dixon every day, but Mr Hale was rather quiet and did not speak much. He seemed tired, drained even, and she could not help but worry about him.

John would still join her on Tuesdays, to read with papa, and she was glad of it. It was only during those times, when the two men were philosophising over a book, that Margaret could sometimes see a faint glimmer in her father's eyes, or the trace of a smile on his lips.

As she had expected, he had declined the offer to move in with them. He had, however, been persuaded to have dinner at the mill house once a week.

It had been almost three months now, since Margaret had become Mrs. Thornton, and slowly but gradually, she was managing to settle into the household routines.

It seemed that upon closer acquaintance, even Mrs Thornton had grown used to her daughter in law's company, and had dropped her antagonistic approach towards her.

Or maybe, Margaret mused, it was she herself, who had grown so accustomed to the older woman's conduct, that she did not take it as personal anymore.

Hannah still did not show much affection, and had a chilly air about her, but they managed to converse with each other without breaking out into a quarrel every few minutes.

Fanny, too, had started talking to Margaret more often, trying to get her sister-in-law to tell her as much as she could about the time she had spent in London, and which shops were the best, and which concert halls the finest.

Sometimes the girl would show her pages from the latest fashion magazines, and Margaret feigned interest, so as not to disappoint her.

She realized that Fanny was, in fact, not such an unpleasant girl, once one managed to look beyond her shallowness and naivety.

Underneath her sometimes arrogant exterior, she was nothing but a vulnerable child, longing for love and acceptance.

As for her husband, Margaret did not see too much of him.

He was always working, it seemed, being at his office before eight in the morning and coming home only in time for dinner, after which the two of them had got into a routine of spending one or two hours together in his study.

But even then, they rarely spoke much, as he was working, and on those rare occasions when he was not, he was reading a book.

Margaret would read too. She was glad that they had managed to grow used to each other's company enough, to enable them to sit in comfortable silence together, without either of them feeling the need to break it.

When they did speak, it was of their daily tasks, of her father's health, or of any recent news they had heard or read.

Sometimes, she almost felt like he was deliberately distancing himself from her, although she could not fathom why.

He was always willing to converse with her in a polite and friendly manner, but he rarely spoke of personal matters and he never got too close to her, making sure to sit at a safe distance, only touching her when they were walking together, with her arm in his, or when he was helping her enter or exit the carriage.

They had never mentioned any marital duties again, nor had he come near her in any way that would imply any such expectations on his part.

Instead, they had established a companionable co-existence, living next to each other, but not really with each other.

Margaret was glad of it, for it eased her mind. She was able to go about her daily routines, as she had done when she had still lived in Crampton, and on some days, it almost seemed as though not much had changed.

It was a pleasant surprise, after her initial fear that her life, as she had known it, would be over, the moment she had spoken her wedding vows.

On Sundays, they had taken up going for an afternoon walk together. They would walk along Market Street, gazing into the shop windows, or they would take a turn about the graveyard, stopping by Mrs Hale's grave.

George Thornton was also buried there. His grave was on the far side of the cemetery, alongside the old stone wall. John had shown her once, but they did not always go there, as he did not seem too interested in visiting it regularly.

He had also shown her a nice little park, about two miles from Marlborough Mills, which she had not known before.

There was a beautiful water fountain in the middle, and colourful flower beds. It was the place closest to nature that Margaret had found in the midst of the industrial city so far, and she enjoyed spending time there.

During the day, she would often visit Nicholas Higgins and Mary in Princeton.

Nicholas's neighbour, Mr Boucher had been found dead only a few days after Mrs Hale's funeral. He had drowned himself in the river, after unsuccessfully trying to find employment anywhere in Milton.

He had been the man responsible for the riot at Marlborough Mills, and therefore, no mill would take him on, and the worker's union had cast him out as well, for breaking the strike through this violent act.

He had been caught between both sides of this war, belonging to neither, and being attacked by both.

Boucher's widow had been sickening for over a year, and only a week after her husband's passing, she had followed him, leaving six young children behind, who had been taken in by none other than the Higgins's.

"I need work", Nicholas told Margaret, unsuccessfully trying to hide the tinge of despair in his voice.

"We're eight now instead o' two and, come winter, those children'll starve."

"Have you asked at the mills for work?", she inquired.

"Aye, all of 'em. None would take me on, with me bein' a union man an' all."

"Have you been to Marlborough Mills?"

"Aye, I've been to yer husband's factory", he stated grumpily. "Overlooker told me t' be off. Sharpish."

Margaret felt a sting at him calling the mill "her husband's" factory, as though she had joined forces with the master in these matters, which she certainly had not.

"I will talk to John", she declared in a firm voice. "Maybe I can talk some sense into him."

"Don't!", he muttered. "It would take my pride. I don't want work where it ain't given willingly. Wouldn't want anyone to offer me a place 'cause 'is wife made 'im. Either way, I doubt he'd listen to ye."

"We will see about that", she stated, trying to sound more confident than she actually felt. "Do it for the children, Nicholas", she implored him. "Your pride will not fill their bellies."

He grumbled something under his breath, but made no further objection.


The next day was a Sunday, and since the weather was fine, John and Margaret had gone on one of their walks through the park.

Margaret had been thinking on how to approach the matter of Nicholas Higgins, feeling slightly nervous to bring his name up again, after they had quarreled repeatedly about her acquaintance with him in the past.

As they were passing along a row of trees, she finally decided that the right moment to broach this topic would never come, and she might as well try and get it over with. She stopped, turning towards her husband.

"John?"

His eyes immediately shot to her face at this.

"There is something I need to talk to you about", she said bravely. He nodded to indicate that he was listening, and she took a deep breath.

"You know Nicholas Higgins. My friend from Princeton."

"The union leader", he noted in a cool tone.

"The one", she nodded, deliberately ignoring the look he gave her.

"He is looking for work. Desperately. He has taken in six young children from a neighbour who died, and he does not have the money to feed them all. He has been asking at all the mills, but was turned away. He is a skilled worker with years of experience, and a reliable man."

"Reliable in causing trouble", he snapped, turning from her and resuming his walk.

"John, listen to me-"

"I know what you are asking, Margaret. And the answer is no."

She let go of his arm and stepped right in front of him, blocking his path with a defiant look on her face.

"Why?"

He looked at her incredulously for a moment, as though he could not believe she would even ask.

"Because he is a dangerous firebrand. I have had to turn out a hundred of my best hands for following him and his union, and you think I would take him on? I might as well set fire to the cotton waste and have done with it."

Even though she had been quite certain that he would react in such a way, it aggravated her, but she tried to keep her breathing calm and her voice even. She would not give up so easily.

"He is a good man, I know him to be", she told him firmly. "And so are you."

She saw him furrow his brow suspiciously at her words, but went on:

"You are a fair master. You care for your workers, even if you claim it is not so. Nicholas has been made a bit wild by circumstances, but he has a good heart. He did not want me to ask you for work on his behalf, he is too proud for that. But he let me do it for the sake of these starving children. What is to become of them?"

He closed his eyes for a moment and released a small, frustrated sigh, trying to keep his voice calm, when he spoke:

"Margaret. Do you have any idea what this strike has cost me?"

His face was a picture of frustration, annoyance, and something else – something deeper.

"We may lose the mill over of it", he muttered then, his voice so low, that she had to strain to make out the words.

Margaret stood, frozen, staring up at him in disbelief.

"Y-you cannot mean that?", she whispered in shock, after a few seconds.

"I do", he told her earnestly. He looked around, to make sure no one else was near to hear their conversation, before continuing, his voice barely above a whisper:

"Our debt to the bank is currently four hundred pounds. I have the majority of our money caught up in new machinery I had installed a little over a year ago, and the strike has thrown back production so far, that many buyers have withdrawn their orders..."

"I have lost a major investor over this whole affair. I work twelve hours a day, and more, just to ensure that the payroll is safe, so I don't have to dismiss the workers. And here you go, telling me I should take on the man who has been the cause of all this?"

She did not know what to say. She had not known it was this bad, he never spoke of his business with her.

She had noticed that he worked hard, and put in long hours. She was aware of how increasingly tired he looked, but had not given it too much thought.

What if they truly were at risk of losing the mill? What would become of them?

She was so stunned, that it took her a few moments to realize that he had walked on, and was already several steps ahead of her. Quickly, she dashed after him.

"But surely there is something that can be done?", she gasped, trying to catch her breath.

He shrugged. "I'm trying."

His voice sounded almost stubborn, like that of a little boy being scolded for failing at a task he was given.

Margaret could see that this was getting to him more than he was letting on. She reached out her hand and placed it on his arm, once again stopping him dead in his tracks.

"I know you are", she told him in a steady voice.

"This is not your fault. You could not have known about the strike when you took up that bank loan." She searched his face, willing him to look at her.

"Is there anything I can do?", she asked.

He shook his head. "Pray for a good summer. That people will buy cotton clothes. Pray that some of our buyers pay their bills on time."

He looked as crestfallen as she had ever seen him, and she suddenly wished she could have taken some of this burden from him.

In this whole debate between masters and men, she had never given much thought to his point of view, being so caught up in the struggles of the workers.

"Why didn't you tell me?", she asked eventually.

"I did not want to worry you. For now, the payroll is safe, and I hope we can keep it that way."

There was a small wooden bench near them, and Margaret carefully took his arm and pulled him over to it, sitting down and motioning for him to join her.

"I wish you had told me", she said after a moment's reflection. "I am your wife, after all. At least on paper", she added a bit timidly, looking down at her hands. "This concerns me too."

He shook his head. "We are not so badly off, that you would need to trouble yourself with any existential worries."

"I don't", she stated without hesitation.

"That is not what I worry about. I lived a far simpler life at Crampton than I do now, and I did not care. But we had an agreement to be open with each other. If this worries you, I would like for you to share it with me."

She saw a muscle twitch in his jaw, as he pondered her words.

"I'm sorry", he murmured eventually. "I should have told you. I suppose, I too, am still getting used to this marriage, and all that it entails."

They fell into silence for a minute, as they just sat there, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

"John?"

"Hm?"

"How much would it affect the mill if you took on one more worker?"

His head whipped around at her in utter annoyance. "Please don't tell me this is still about Higgins!"

She bit her lip, which was all the answer he needed.

John furrowed his brow in astonishment. "Why is this so important to you?", he then asked.

Margaret heaved a shaky breath. "I have seen those children, six of them. Tommy, the oldest, is only seven. He is teaching himself to read. He is so full of ambition, I am sure he could go far in life. They have nothing, John. If Nicholas does not find work soon, they will be condemned to the workhouse or worse, starve."

She felt her own voice tremble with emotion at the prospect of what these children were facing.

"If I vouched for him", she tried once more. "If I told you, with all my heart, that I trust this man, that I know him to be honest and hard-working, and would not plan anything behind your back, would you give him a chance?"

Margaret held her breath. She knew that there was no more she could do now. She had given it her all, and if he declined now, there was no use in trying again.

He looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

"You would vouch for him?"

She gave a confident nod.

"Mind you, he'll come sharp to his time. What times we have we keep sharp. And if he steps as much as a toe out of line, he'll be sorry."

"Is that a yes?", she could not help but ask, as his words slowly started sinking in.

"I suppose it is", he muttered. "If only to stop you from pestering me."

She could not help but chuckle at that. Without thinking, she grasped his hand in both of hers and pulled it towards her chest.

"Oh John, thank you!", she whispered, overcome with emotion. "Thank you so much!"

She saw him swallow, as he looked at their joined hands, and quickly let go.

He cleared his throat and rose from the bench to resume walking, and Margaret quickly followed him.

"I'm going down to London next month, to the Great Exhibition", he changed the topic. "My banker, Latimer, suggested that it would be a good opportunity to look for investors for the mill. I will be there for two or three days. Would you be interested in joining me?"

Margaret's eyes widened in excitement. "The Great Exhibition?", she exclaimed.

"I have read about it. It will be quite a spectacular event, do you not think? Exhibitors from all around the world, and they have built a grand palace out of glass as an exhibition space. Edith has told me all about it in her last letter. She and my aunt Shaw should be back from the continent by now, maybe we could meet them there."

"So, I take it you are coming then?"

"If you don't mind?", she said uncertainly. He regarded her from the side, raising an eyebrow. "If I did, I would not have asked."

The sigh she breathed at that was a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

He could be difficult sometimes, but for some reason, it was growing on her.

She carefully slipped her arm into his again, and slowly, they made their way back towards the park gates and out onto the street to Marlborough Mills.


Nicholas Higgins was stunned to hear, that Margaret had managed to talk her husband into taking him on. He had had his doubts that her attempts would prove successful.

'Maybe sharing a marriage bed with a master does have its benefits', he thought bitterly.

He knew that the young woman had not entered into this connection willingly, and could only hope, against his better judgement, that the mill master would treat her with respect.

She had thus far not spoken much of her marriage, and he knew better than to pry into her. It was, in the end, none of his business.

He had been told to come to the mill, Monday morning at eight o'clock, sharp, and made sure to be there ten minutes early.

As he approached the green gates, he was held up by the overseer, who had sent him away before.

"Higgins, is it?", the man asked, looking him up and down with a certain amount of suspicion. Nicholas nodded, and the overseer indicated for him to come along. "Mr Thornton wants to see you in his office."

He followed the man across the courtyard, with a slight feeling of nervousness creeping up inside him. He had never spoken to Thornton in person, and was not sure what the man could want with him.

It was not the custom to interview every worker before taking them on, and Nicholas could only fathom that it would have to do with his being a union man.

A door was pushed open for him to enter, and a moment later, he stood in an office, in front of a large wooden desk, behind which sat the slightly daunting figure of the mill master, all in black, from his hair to his frock coat. He did not look up immediately, still reading some letter he was holding.

Nicholas took off his cap and clasped it tightly in both of his hands, trying to appear calmer than he felt.

Eventually, Thornton dropped the letter and leaned back in his chair, looking Nicholas up and down in an almost menacing way.

"Higgins, I presume."

"Yes, sir."

"It seems you have found yourself quite an advocate", Thornton told him, without ever breaking the worker's gaze.

"I wasn't askin' for it", Nicholas was quick to defend himself. "She would not let me stop 'er."

"And yet, you came, the minute you heard of her success", the master told him with a raised brow.

"I need work", Higgins stated simply. "If it were only for meself, I'd not even ask, but I've got young ones t' feed."

"So I've heard", Thornton nodded. He stood, stepping around his desk to stand before Nicholas. The man was a good head taller than him.

"I don't think I need to tell you, that if I ever catch you using that brain of yours to make trouble, off you go." His voice was low, but there was no mistaking his meaning.

"Reckon I'll leave my brains at home then", Nicholas retorted with a brave little smirk.

Thornton turned and walked back to his desk. "You'll find Williams outside, he will show you to the weaving room."

He was almost at the door, when the other man called after him. "Higgins?"

He spun around to find Thornton looking at him with an earnest expression. "I was grieved to hear of your daughter's untimely death. She was a good friend to my wife."

Nicholas could only stare for a moment, taken aback at this wholly unexpected display of sympathy.

"Thank you", he muttered, before rushing out of the office and closing the door firmly behind him.


After they had returned from their walk that Sunday, Margaret Had sat down and composed a letter to her cousin Edith, to tell her of their plans to visit the Great Exhibition.

Ten days later, she received a reply:

My dearest Margaret,

I cannot tell you how overjoyed I was to receive your last letter.

Indeed, we have been back from Greece for a little over two weeks now, and are still settling in.

I am excited at the prospect of seeing you so soon, after having been apart for so many months.

Oh, Margaret, it seems like an eternity, and so much has happened since.

I do hope that your marriage is somewhat bearable. We were all so grieved to hear of your misfortune.

What tragic circumstances can be caused by just a small mistake.

Mother has been rather desperate at the prospect of you having had to marry so far out of our social circles.

A cotton manufacturer was certainly not what either of us had had in mind for you, and from what I could tell from your letters, he does not seem to be a very agreeable man.

Oh, dearest cousin, please tell me that it is not as bad as I am imagining.

I know you will dislike what I am saying, but I still have to say it again:

If only uncle had never taken you to this awful place, then none of this would have happened.

We held a prayer for your dear mamma, Margaret. My mother was beyond sad at having lost her.

The two of them had always been close. It must be very hard for you now, without her.

I wish there was something I could say to make things better, but all I can do i s to assure you that I will always be here to listen to your sorrows, whenever you feel like sharing them.

But let's move on to a more pleasant topic:

When you come to London, you must stay at our house at Harley Street, I insist you must, and so does mother.

We will not let you stay at a hotel, and we will have much more time to talk this way.

There is so much I long to tell you, I cannot wait to see you so soon.

Give our regards to uncle and Dixon

Yours truthfully

Edith

Margaret looked up from her letter, just as John entered the study. He briefly nodded at her, before taking a seat behind his desk and opening one of the ledgers he had placed there earlier.

"We are invited to stay with my aunt Shaw when we go down to London", she informed him.

He looked up briefly. "I would not want to trespass on your family's hospitality."

"I'm afraid they will insist. My cousin seems quite determined."

He pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "Mind you, we'll only stay for two nights. I can't afford to leave the mill for longer."

"Two nights, it is then", she told him. "I will write to Edith and confirm that we shall stay with them. I will never hear the end of it, if we don't."

TTTTTTTTTTT

NOTE:

As the story progresses, chapters will get longer (some twice as long as the others). These may take a few days longer to edit, but you'll get more, once they're done