Chapter 8

Fanny Watson, for all of her self-absorption and shrill hysterics, could have moments of intelligence. As her eyes flicked between her mother and brother she could deduce that as usual, there was something they were not telling her.

"Well one of you ought to begin talking! Or am I a child, to be kept in the dark as I always am?!"

"I'll not divulge what is not mine to tell Fan. Remember yourself," John snapped back, unwilling to deal with his sister's self-centredness.

"I don't know why you're taking such pains to defend her John! We all know she thought herself too high and mighty for any of us! I'm surprised she took the pains of inviting us Northern filth into her grand London dwelling," Fanny retorted in a tone laden with disdain. The usually unshakeable Hannah Thornton found herself on her feet, towering over her daughter.

"That is enough! I am sure I never raised such a daughter who would stoop to speak so low of a lady who has suffered as that lady has, and yet has still never spoken to us with nothing other than well-bred politeness and has graciously invited us into her home. Her perceived offences against our family are between her and your brother. If he considers them atoned and forgiven, then you would be wise to follow his example. And for once in your life, hold your tongue!"

But Fanny refused to submit meekly. Marriage and impending motherhood, it seemed, had made her bolder than usual.

"We all know her perceived offences Mother, the whole of Milton knows! Being out with strange men after hours, having the audacity to reject John when he made her a fine offer, and the way she conducted herself during that riot! And now these marks upon her neck?! Is she a ruffian that brawls in bars, or -?"

"ENOUGH!" John bellowed. He opened his mouth to unleash yet more scorn on his sister, but they were interrupted by Fred bursting through the door.

"What on Earth is happening here Thornton? Wait, where are Margaret and Edith?" he demanded, glancing about the room.

"Margaret's dress was damaged by the child, they left to make the necessary adjustments to her gown," Hannah answered

"Sholto is always grabbing things he ought not to. But what in God's name is all the noise about?"

"I think the excitements of London have proven too much for my sister. My mother may escort her back to her hotel, unless she agrees to conduct herself more sensibly," John answered, staring at his sister hard as he intoned the last part. Fanny finally knew when she had overstepped. Mortified at having made a debacle of herself, she curtsied to Fred and her brother, and returned to her seat without a further word. A small part of her also argued that she may yet hear some choice gossip if she gave up this particular battle.

"Fred, is that you?" they all heard Margaret call down the hall.

"Indeed Margaret, I'm in the parlour," Fred called back to her.

Margaret stepped back into the room having changed into one of her usual dresses, the scratches now plain for all to see. Edith had cleaned and re salved the wounds and they looked markedly less severe. Fanny, however, was still staring at them completely agape.

"Miss Hale, what on Earth has happened to you?"

"Oh it is the most trifling thing Mrs Watson. Edith gave me a sample of perfume she brought back from her latest trip to Corfu, and I dabbed a little on my neck. We have deduced that I must be allergic to something in the bottle, as it made my skin so dreadfully itchy and swollen. As you can see, I almost scratched my skin clean off before we realised it was the perfume and made sure it was thoroughly washed off. The collared dress was just a new fashion I was trying, but I think we can agree with Sholto that it does not suit me"

Margaret made this reply with barely a bat of her eyelids or quaver in her voice. John did not know if this story had been agreed upon beforehand or hastily concocted while she changed dresses, but he commended the creativity, nonetheless.

Fanny suspected there was rather something more to this story, but it would not be seemly to call her hostess a liar, and she was already treading dangerous ground with her mother and brother.

"Goodness, where are my manners? Mrs Watson, may I introduce you to my brother, Frederick Hale? Fred, I believe you remember Mrs Thornton?"

"Lovely to meet you Mrs Watson. Delighted to see you again, and in much happier circumstances Mrs Thornton," Fred replied with a jovial smile.

"Indeed Mr Hale, it is good to see you so well settled. You must be pleased to back with your sister," Hannah replied.

It was true that it gladdened him to be back with Margaret but settled was hardly the word he would have used of late. True, Margaret's health and behaviour were finally beginning to settle, but he was now so caught up in the legalities of re-establishing his life in England that he had been constantly dashing from meeting to meeting, signing reams of legal papers and having many long and important talks. He had had to travel to the Navy's main headquarters and present himself to obtain an official recognition of his pardon. He had been on edge the entire time, terrified it was all a great hoax and he would be dragged to the gallows at any moment. Only when he had left the building, signed, and stamped letter in hand, had he taken the deepest breath he had allowed himself in a long while. From there, it had been a short battle with the bank to get his admittedly small assets unfrozen and returned to him. He had now also set the wheels in motion to obtain legal citizenship for Dolores to enable her to join him.

"There has been rather more paperwork involved than I anticipated Mrs Thornton, but I am sure things shall calm down soon enough. I am just lucky that we have such generous family to provide for us at such a time," Fred replied.

"Oh pish, dear Fred! We are simply happy that you are finally able to come home to us and our dear Migsy," Edith replied with a dismissive hand.

"Migsy?"

"It was my childhood nickname, Mrs Thornton. My cousin and brother are reluctant to give it up, as you see," Margaret replied with a jokingly stern look at her relatives.

Somehow, whenever he heard this youthful moniker, John was able to vividly picture Margaret as a child. A slight child, with her skirts short and her hair down, running free in the breeze as she capered in the fields and picked a crown of yellow roses. He thought of his own childhood by comparison. Pulled out of school to be told his father was dead, and that he must leave his childhood home, and go straight to work to support his mother and sister. That was how his life had been, shouldering the burden of earning an income to help his family, suffering after the sudden loss of his father. If only he could shoulder some of Margaret's burden to ease her suffering. There was no use in hiding away from it, his heart still pined for her. Knowing her innocent of all the dreadful things he once hurled at her in accusation, seeing her suffer as she lost first her mother and then her father, hearing of her suffering in her illness, had only sought to increase his affections for her. He tried to rebel against it. Surely it was indecent to still wish for a woman as frail and unwell as Margaret? A true gentleman would surely leave her to her convalescence in peace, not continue to entertain fantasies of taking her to the altar. He could feel a headache coming on, one that frequently appeared whenever his thoughts were running amok. He rubbed his forehead with his hand, sighing dejectedly and quickly realising the sound had come out louder than he intended.

"Gracious Mr. Thornton, are you feeling well?"

Starting to lose count of the amount of times it had happened, John once again looked up and found several pairs of eyes trained on him. He vaguely wondered whether it would be less fuss to have himself committed to Bedlam that very afternoon, before attempting to articulate a response.

"Forgive me, I found myself lost in… mill matters. There will be much to do now that Mr Bell has kindly seen me back on my feet," he replied, hoping that at least half the room bought the story. Everyone seemed content with the reply, but John had somehow forgotten to consider the sharp mind of his mother. She had seen how he had spent most of the afternoon staring after Margaret like a lost puppy, paying her all his half-hashed compliments and what a personal interest he had taken in her recovery. She could see clearly that he still held Miss Hale high in his affections but was also wary that to continue seriously considering her could only end in heartbreak on both sides. Still, Margaret and her brother were to be away to Helstone in a few days, and she, John and Fanny would return to Milton. She only needed to keep her bull-headed son in check a short while longer, and hopefully distance and time would put paid to any remaining affection.

"I am sure it shall be a lot of work; we do wish you the best Mr. Thornton," Margaret replied with a small smile.

"I am sure I shall back on track soon enough. I am fortunate to have good, sensible folk working for me. They will get the job done," John replied reassuringly.

"I hope you do Mr. Thornton; I'll be sure to see for myself on our visit," Fred replied teasingly. Splendid, Miss Hale wasn't the only Hale with a penchant for making fun of him.

Margaret turned to look at her brother quizzically.

"Visit? Whatever do you mean Fred?"

"I'm so sorry sister, I never told you. As Mr Thornton's new landlords, he wants us to visit and receive an overview of the mill's progress at least once a year. Won't that be something?"

"I find it a strange notion, I'll confess. Still, I was hoping we would return to Milton sometimes, to pay respects to… Mother and Father," Margaret faltered at the last, her expression becoming downcast and forlorn. Fred's expression became solemn as well, and he reached to squeeze his sister's hand reassuringly.

"They are together sister, and we could not ask more than that. You could visit all the friends you made and see how they are doing as well, it could be a good thing," Fred replied encouragingly.

Margaret still seemed anxious about something, wringing her hands, and worrying her lower lip. Fred saw that it would not be wise to engage her further on this, and merely patted her wrist comfortingly.

"No worries Migsy, we can think about it when we are back from our Helstone trip," he said to her quietly. Mrs Watson, however, could be counted upon to be about as subtle as a bull in a china shop.

"I am sure Milton is nothing to your sainted Helstone Miss Hale, but surely you could lower yourself to such a visit from time to time," she threw out spitefully.

Margaret recoiled at the harshness of the tone, and screwed her eyes tight shut to stem the few traitorous tears that sprang to her eyes. Then a wave of anger rolled over her, and she replied with a harsher tone than anyone had ever heard her speak.

"You will forgive me, Mrs Watson, for being reluctant to visit a place that holds such painful memories. The last time I was in Milton was the last time my family was truly whole. My mother and father alive, and my brother by my side. Now look at us and see what is left? My brother would still be thousands of miles away and forbidden to return if not for one man's greed and complacency. I also lost one of the only people I have ever truly called friend. So you will again forgive me, if I do not feel the strength to lower myself to such a visit as of yet," Margaret snapped back icily. She rose to her feet and dropped a surly curtsy to the room.

"Forgive me Fred, Edith, I find myself wearied from these excitements. I'm going to rest," Her voice, which was so warm and friendly before, was cold and monotone. She excused herself and departed the room, but John did not miss the pained look she gave him on her way out. Fred and Edith threw Fanny a disapproving look before departing the room after her.

John did not even look at his sister, but instead chose to address his mother.

"Mother, Fanny has clearly overexcited herself with all the thrills of London. See her back to the hotel so she may rest herself and the child. I shall join you both shortly"

The tremble of fury in his voice told his mother and sister that he would not accept any attempt at an argument.

Later on, with Fanny confined to her room for the remainder of the evening with the threat of severe reprimands from her brother when he returned, Margaret was also laying on her bed in Harley Street. She was staring at the ceiling, her thoughts too jumbled for any rest to come to her.

Aside from the reasons she had churlishly thrown at Mrs Watson, she had other reservations for returning to Milton.

Before her father had been suddenly taken from her, she knew she had begun to entertain a foolish hope that Mr Thornton would somehow renew his address to her or show by some sign that it would happen in the future. However, if being spied with Fred at Outwood had dimmed those hopes, everything that had followed had blown out the candle completely and stomped on it for good measure. Following her illness, Margaret knew the limitations that would be placed on her for perhaps the rest of her life. Her prospects of marriage now seemed altogether vanished. Many young men her age needed a sturdy healthy wife and would have no interest in caring for an invalid. Margaret also feared her illness had taken its toll on her fertility, as her courses had not been as regular and at one point had stopped altogether. A man had no use for a barren wife who could not bear his heirs. Milton would not only haunt her with the life that she had once lived, it would torment her with glimpses of the life she could have lived. Mr Thornton would have to marry at some point, and father sons to inherit the mill. She would have to meet with this new Mrs Thornton, and perhaps be invited to take tea with her while Fred toured the mill. She would have to watch this woman grow great with child, and perhaps see the dark-haired children she had hoped once to bear herself playing in the yard. Everything she had not known she wanted until it was a complete impossibility. John would return to Milton, marry, and forget all about her. She would spend the rest of her life cared for by relatives, shifted between households with no prospect of independence for herself.

There was nothing for it. She would simply have to wait for him to return to Milton, and hope that distance would quash any remaining sentiment she had for him.

Author Note:

Fanny got SERVED. I loved writing every minute of that. So we know now where both characters stand in their opinions of the other.

I know it all looks gloomy for poor Margaret, but I promise it will get better for her! Bear with me.

Sid x