Chapter 10

We made it to the double digits! *throws confetti* Let me know what you're thinking of the story so far – we are now at the halfway point!

About an hour had passed since the Thornton's abrupt departure and Margaret was alone in her room, sprawled on the settee she often relaxed on if she did not want to take to her bed. She did not care that her current appearance was most unladylike. She was alone, the only person likely to disturb her was Dixon, who had seen her in far worse states. She was, for what felt like the thousandth time that week alone, simply staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.

It was surely madness to still have hopes for Mr Thornton's addresses, after everything that had passed between them, after everything he had seen?

"Perhaps I have gone truly and irreversibly mad, and shall never truly recover," Margaret mused to herself. Edith had told her, after the Thorntons had left, of how she had shrieked and flailed for almost two minutes before they had been able to wake her. She pulled the blanket she was laying on tight around herself then, wanting to hide away from the misery that overwhelmed her. She had been doing so well, and then to make that much of a spectacle of herself!

It was so cruel, that at the point when all rifts and misunderstandings between the Thorntons and herself seemed healed and forgotten, her illness crept back up to try and reclaim her.

But perhaps it was for the best, Margaret thought on. It was a reminder that any life as a Thornton she had wished for was now a complete impossibility. She was too ill, too frail. She would never survive a return to Milton. John's reputation would never survive the gossip that was surely still attached to her, and he would not want an invalid wife mired in scandal. Perhaps he would make things official between himself and Miss Latimer, they had seemed all but wedded themselves at his sister's wedding.

Her heart rebelled at the thought of seeing them together, then reminded herself it was none of her concern. Why would she wish to return to Milton? She and Fred were only just brought back together after so many years of not knowing if he was dead or alive. She could not bear to leave him again so soon, confined to yearly visits and Christmas letters. He had made some noise about seeking permanent residence in Helstone for them. Would that not be much more preferable? To return to her childhood home, where she had been the happiest she'd ever been, with her brother and his family? To play with her nieces and nephews and drink tea with the sister-in-law she was anxious to meet, all in the clean fine southern air? To rest and grow stronger in the warm sun and fresh air? Returning to Milton with its cold air and smoky streets would surely be her undoing? No, it was not practical, and it was not possible. Best to put it all from her mind.

But oh, that they should part on such a note! He, reminded that she was so ill and weak of mind, when they had been laughing and joking with one another not a few hours before! If she could have but one wish, it would be that he could have left London with happier memories of her. She turned her head to the side and her eyes fell upon a bundle of fabric and a package she had discarded on her dresser a few hours before. She sat bolt upright with a gasp, and as she dashed to retrieve it, she could only hope that she was not too late.

She stuck her head out of her door, knowing Anna was somewhere in the vicinity, as she dusted this hallway every afternoon.

"Anna? Could you run an errand for me?"

John met his mother and sister in the hotel foyer, his packed valise in his hands. The lady's cases were already on the way to the station, too heavy for the ladies or for John to manage single handedly.

Just as they were about to leave, they were distracted by the sight of Anna bursting through the door. Her chest was heaving as though she had run the whole way there and her bonnet was clinging to her head by a hairpin. She wildly scanned the room until her eyes fell upon the Thorntons, and her whole demeanour instantly relaxed. She composed herself, straightened her attire, and walked over.

"Mr Thornton… I am glad I have caught you in time. My mistress - bid me to give you these. She meant to give… you them on your visit earlier, but we were all unfortunately distracted. She bids me to assure you that - she is much recovered and hopes - your journey will not be too long"

She rattled off this great speech in heaving gasps and then handed him the packages he had only just noticed her clutching to her chest. A great stab of curiosity overcame him, but he won over the urge to rip them open there and then. He merely clicked open his valise and dropped them inside.

"Thank you Anna. You seem to have come at great speed. I hope you are not fatigued?" He had not meant to sound snappish, but he was rather taken aback at her sudden entrance.

Anna shook her head then, not quite looking him in the eye, as she had been staring at the floor the whole time. John supposed he may come off as intimidating. She seemed as though she would barely reach his chest stretched on tip toe, small for her grand age of fifteen years old. Anna would not have had much interaction with men beyond the grand gentlemen she would have taken coats from, served drinks, and taken away empty plates, so talking to one almost completely on her own would seem especially alien to her. He endeavoured to employ a softer tone so as not to frighten her off men altogether.

"Thank Miss Hale for her delivery. Tell her we are glad to hear she is recovered, and hope she will only continue to improve. Assure her we are not afflicted by the events of this afternoon besides concern for her well-being," he replied, which she acknowledged with a nod and a quick curtsy.

"Thankyou. I must return to my mistress. She will be greatly cheered to know that I found you in time. Good day and safe travels. Sir, madam, madam," she curtsied to each of the Thorntons as she spoke, and then was gone almost as quickly as she had arrived.

John stared after her dumbly for a second, wishing he could follow her back to her mistress and sit with Margaret a little while longer, yet was interrupted by his sister's shrill tones.

"John, the train!"

John could barely keep his mind off the mysterious packages, and his distractedness almost missed them the train back to Milton. Thankfully, they got themselves comfortably settled in their compartment just in time for the train to glide out of the station.

He thought that he might wait until he was home and open them in the privacy of his office. However, the pointed looks of his mother and sister told him that this was becoming less and less likely by the minute.

"Alright, fine!" He threw his hands up in exasperation and pulled the packages out of his bag. He pulled open the soft, light one first and found, bizarrely, a small array of children's clothes in various sizes. Shirts, trousers, some small dresses, and little knitted hats and scarves, as well as socks and undergarments. He was puzzled at first, and then noticed a letter that had fallen out of his bag when he pulled the parcels out. He just recognised the swirl of Margaret's handwriting, though it seemed hurried and scrawled, and tore it open.

Mr Thornton,

I do hope these packages found you in time. I wished to bring them myself, but it would have been impossible to get out of the house without a chaperone, and Anna is some five times faster than myself.

I merely enclose some clothes that I have made for the Boucher children, and would ask you to pass them to Higgins for me, with my best wishes to he and his family. If they will not take them, perhaps Mrs Watson may make use of them? I am sure she would be able to rework them into something much more fashionable for her children.

Despite your many assurances to the contrary, I do continue to feel wretched about taking back Father's Plato. While I am not yet ready to part with this cherished possession of my father's, you should not be deprived of this fine piece of literary work. Therefore, hoping you shall not scold me too deeply for any expense incurred, I purchased you a copy to keep for your very own, which I also enclose with an eased conscience.

I do hope you and your family are recovered from the shock of the manner of our parting, and understand that the mortification you must feel is surely nothing in comparison to my own. I only pray that we can continue to be friends, even if from a distance.

Fred and I are away to Helstone tomorrow for three weeks. Should you ever find yourself in London when we are returned, I do hope you will come to call upon us again.

I am yours, most sincerely

M. Hale

"I am yours, most sincerely," John thought to himself. How he wished she could be saying those words to him with an entirely different meaning. A quiet clearing of a throat reminded him there were people keen to hear the contents of the letter, but found he did not feel up to sharing.

"She wishes me to pass the clothes to the Boucher children, she was always fond of them. The book is just some piece about army life that Fred recommends"

"She was also so fond of her charity work," Mrs Thornton murmured, in a tone that was neither approving nor disapproving. Fanny inspected Margaret's needlework and deemed that it "would suit for those children"

John merely stared out the window, his thoughts muddled and running amok with half formed dreams of dark-haired children with deep brown eyes.

Margaret stepped off the southbound train and took a bracing lungful of coastal air. She could feel it fortifying her lungs instantly. She accepted Fred's arm to walk to the waiting carriage that would commit them to Helstone. The ensuing journey did not consist of much conversation as Margaret could not pull her eyes away from the passing scenery long enough to engage in whatever trifling matter the gentlemen were discussing. Her worries and cares had not entirely melted away, but the wind (it was always very blowy on the south coast) in her ears and the smell of the flowering blooms around her were definitely pushing them into a tiny disregarded corner of her mind. They alighted from the carriage in the centre of the village where her father's parish had been situated, and wandered idly through the village, making their way to the church where he had preached. As they stepped through the large wooden doors, Margaret felt as though they had stepped back in time. As she gazed around the pews and up at the pulpit and altar, she could vividly picture her father preaching up in the pulpit of a Sunday afternoon. She remembered sitting in the pews as a child, often whispering and giggling with Fred when their attention began to wander, before their knuckles were sharply rapped by their mother. After services, they would play in the graveyard with other children while their parents conversed with various parishioners. Hide and seek, tag, leapfrog, any game a young child's mind could think of. Sometimes Fred or one of the other boys would bring a ball in their jacket pocket and they would play catch.

The echoes of childish shrieks of laughter were still ringing in her ears when Fred gently called her name.

"Migsy?"

She turned to gaze at Fred serenely, feeling the calmest she had felt in months.

"Sorry Fred, I was in a world quite of my own there. What is the matter?"

"Nothing urgent. We are engaged to a friend of Mr Bell's for luncheon. He wonders if we are ready to go?" he asked, proffering his arm hopefully. Margaret linked her arm through it, smiling up at him.

"He has been so good to us, it would be churlish to keep him waiting," Margaret concurred, following her brother out of this rabbit hole of memories.

They found Dixon seated on a bench with Mr Bell. Both seemed to be sitting in a companionable sort of silence. Dixon sat with her face turned up to the sun, her eyes closed as she almost drank in the warmth and cheery brightness. Mr Bell was leaning both hands upon his cane and seemed, like his goddaughter, to be lost in a parallel world. His head snapped round at the sound of their approaching footsteps and he nodded.

"There you are children, excellent. Oh – forgive me. You are both certainly long past childhood now," he smiled almost sadly, remembering things that were long gone.

"Do not worry about it Mr Bell. Who is this excellent friend we are to dine with?" Fred asked, deftly changing the subject.

"You may yet remember Mr and Mrs Rawlings; they have lived in this little corner of heaven almost all their lives. You probably remember playing with their son Jonathan"

"Oh, Jonathan's mother and father! Is he here too? Did you not have a girlish fancy for Jonathan at some point Migsy?" Fred laughed as he dodged the replying swat.

"He was at one time the only boy of my acquaintance who did not pull my hair or try to get mud on my skirts. That was the only basis for my attraction. I was also only nine years old, if you recall," Margaret replied in a dignified tone. Mr Bell chuckled at the antics of his godchildren.

"Well I am terribly sorry my dear, but I'm afraid Jonathan is long married and away to London. He still brings his wife and their veritable hoard of children down to visit from time to time," Mr Bell told Margaret, somehow keeping a straight face.

"I can assure you Mr Bell, that I will endeavour to overcome this heartbreak and rally my heart," Margaret tried so hard to keep a solemn tone, but a smile kept threatening to take over. Mr Bell's heart soared to see her so light-hearted and at ease. If he had known that this was the best way to ease the burden of her grief, he would have taken her away from Milton with him.

No, no use pondering on the things he should have done, he would be better thinking of the things he could do now.

They were now at the Rawlings' cottage, and an elderly man and woman came out to greet them. Mr Rawlings had once worked building houses, and Margaret remembered him as a vast giant of a man. He was still tall, but had grown rather portly in his retirement. Margaret supposed that would happen when one had unlimited time to consume his wife's cooking. Mrs Rawlings was a great lover of cooking and baking, and there had always been a great selection of cakes and biscuits available to peruse whenever Jonathan invited them to play. She was almost exactly as Margaret remembered her, if grey haired and wrinkled. She was tall like her husband, with long fingers that were always busy, as she even now was turning them over and over in the folds of her apron as if to wipe something away. They were ushered into a very cheerful looking parlour with all the usual exchanges of pleasantries. Fred and Margaret sat together opposite the Rawlings and were properly appraised.

"My goodness, I haven't seen the two of you together in years," Mrs Rawlings began, "You are both so very like your parents, God rest their souls. We were deeply grieved to hear of their passing. I remember your mother was such a comfort when we lost our dear Evelyn," she dabbed at her eyes quickly. Evelyn had been their daughter, born a year or so after Jonathan. She had been born too early, and the poor sickly creature had lived only a day. Mr Rawlings patted his wife's shoulder sympathetically.

"They were true disciples of God, and are surely now in his loving embrace, as is dear Evelyn," he assured his wife.

"That brings us all comfort Mr Rawlings, thank you," Fred replied.

"But how happy your parents would be to know that you are back together!" Mrs Rawlings rallied herself. "She would be so gladdened to know you are home Fred. She always prayed this day would come," she recalled with a fond smile.

"As did I Mrs Rawlings. I am so happy that both our prayers have been answered," Margaret replied softly.

Mrs Rawlings squeezed her hand fondly.

"We are so sorry that Jonathon could not be here. You have just missed him in fact, he and his family were here Saturday past"

"Perhaps best that you missed them. That rabble of children seems to multiply every time we see them!"

"They only grow bigger my dear, I am sure they are not multiplying. Poor Alice insists she is quite done with the business of childbirth!"

"How many children do they have?" Margaret enquired.

"Four, two boys and two girls. They are such little dears, but they do get quite excitable. Pray that your own offspring are of a more sensible disposition my dear," Mrs Rawlings smiled fondly. It seemed she did not know of Margaret's illness and she was in no hurry to correct her. It was a pleasant change to be treated as a normal person.

After some enquiries after Mr Bell's business affairs and the Hales' plans for their sojourn in Helstone, Mrs Cookson came to announce that the table had been set for lunch. They moved through to a spacious dining room bathed in sunlight from a large window that afforded a wonderful view of the garden.

Mrs Rawlings had always put on a splendid table, and the roast dinner they were served today was as good as Margaret ever remembered. Mrs Rawlings updated them all on Jonathan's work as a fine London lawyer, working (Margaret noted with slight amusement) for a firm that was a rival to Henry Lennox's.

After lunch, Mrs Rawlings invited Margaret to take a tour of the house, claiming to desire another opinion on some rooms she wanted to redecorate. Fred finally met his match when Mr Rawlings brought out his own chess set, and so they passed an hour or so in this manner. Finally, they were persuaded to take tea before they departed for their hotel, and they removed back to the parlour.

"Fred, I believe you are looking for property in the area?" Mr Rawlings asked abruptly, peering at Fred over the rim of his teacup. Fred raised an eyebrow at his godfather before replying.

"We are Sir, I was going to make some enquiries while we were in the area"

"I'll cut to the heart of the matter and save you the trouble. Jonathan's firm have just given him a very lofty promotion, which has brought him the income to purchase a small estate in the country. It is nothing grand, but he assures me there is room for us. Alice has recently lost both her parents, not unlike yourselves, and it is making Jonathan so fretful about us. He took us to see it about a month ago, and invited us to go and live with him. It would not be such a bad thing, to live out our twilight years surrounded by our grandchildren. Therefore, we propose to sell this place to you at a very modest price," Mr Rawlings explained.

Fred and Margaret exchanged some bemused looks, and then looked back to the Rawlings.

"Sir, that is a most generous offer you make us. May we have some time to think it over?"

"Indeed, indeed. I realise it is a lot to take in. Do come and see us again before you leave and we can talk it over in more detail. Go and enjoy your holiday!"

They were shown out of the house with many cheerful goodbyes and took the carriage back to their hotel.

"Well my dears, what did you think of the house? Mr Rawlings came to me with his plans to sell, and I thought to see what you made of the place," Mr Bell explained.

"It is a fine place to be sure. There is sure to be more than enough room for us all," Margaret replied thoughtfully.

"It is indeed a fine place. I just did not expect to find one so quickly," Fred added, still slightly bewildered.

The next day, the party made their way to the nearby beach. Margaret gave Dixon the day off to visit some friends that still resided in the area.

Mr Bell wandered off to inspect some new deliveries at the nearby bookshop, so Fred and Margaret were quite at their leisure to walk along the beach and talk the house over.

"I won't do anything without your consent my dear sister. What do you make of the place? Do you think it is a fine offer?" Fred asked her, as they rehashed the events of their visit to the Rawlings.

Margaret knew taking the house was the most sensible thing to do. Had they not already discussed the merits of returning to Helstone at great length? However, she had not expected the possibility to come about quite so quickly. Her heart still rebelled at the thought of moving further away from Milton and… Mr Thornton. She sought to crush this rebellion as pining after things that could not be would not help her recovery at all. Fred, however, had grown to know his sister and her mannerisms rather well, and could suss at once that something bothered her.

"Something does not agree with you Margaret. Please tell me"

"Oh it is the silliest thing. Prior to everything that has happened, I believed that Mr Thornton and I were… reaching some sort of understanding. I do not know what understanding, but there was something there. I suppose I am mourning what could have been, and moving away will be the final nail in the coffin"

Fred took her arm in his and petted her hand.

"I saw the way he looked at you, and the way he fretted about you when we found out you were sick. I suppose you could have done worse than to have him. I do not wish to constrain you, but nor do I wish to lose you again so soon my dear sister. But, if he is what you truly want, I will do what I can to help you," he promised her, squeezing her hand.

"Even if he wanted me, who is to say he would have me? I am sick, and probably will be for the rest of my life. I may not bear children, and there is still much scandal attached to me, because of the incident at Outwood. I would not wish to lose you again my dear, and so I think it would be the wisest thing to retire here, and help you with the large family Dolores is sure to give you," she smiled fondly at her brother.

"You know you will always have a place with me Migsy? Whatever you decide?"

"Thankyou. It is a great comfort to know that. Now, we should go and see the Rawlings soon. That house is quite splendid"

"I concur. However, could we indulge in a spot of sea paddling before we go? For old times' sake?"

But Margaret had already slipped out of his grasp and was deftly untying her boots.

A few days later, John sat in his office overseeing the mill. It was the day that the mill should have ceased operations, the money having truly run out. However, Mr Bell's loan had come just in time, and what would have been a day of sorrow and uncertainty was just like any other workday. The workers filed in, unaware of how close they had been to catastrophe, and set straight to their duties.

With the noise of the machines assuring him that all was still ticking along, John was reviewing some orders that had come in. There was a knock at the door, and his foreman walked in.

"Post has arrived Sir"

"Thankyou Fisher. Put it there"

"Indeed Sir"

When he was gone, John glanced at the pile, and the top envelope caught his attention. It bore the London postmark and he recognised Fred's handwriting. He pulled it open and unfurled the letter.

Mr Thornton,

I hope your journey back to Milton went well and that operations at the mill go smoothly. Margaret and I are not long returned to Harley Street from our holiday, and we had a splendid time. Margaret did not have one fit or nightmare the whole time, which confirms in my mind that relocating here will be the best thing for her. We actually managed to secure a property here on our trip. Some friends of Bell's are selling up, and we managed to negotiate a tidy price. All that is left is to settle our affairs here, and make plans for transporting our belongings. I have already sent word to Dolores, who will be making her own arrangements in Spain.

I am making plans for a quick move, so I am afraid we will not be able to receive you in London when you are next here. However, should you ever find yourself in Helstone (which I cannot recommend enough!) our door will always be open.

We will not forget your kindness to our family – the kindnesses you have shown to each of us, and I hope one day to be able to repay you in some form. I enclose the address to forward any business letters to, or should you wish to write and arrange a visit. Margaret would be most pleased to show off her home to anyone who is willing to listen!

With many warm wishes,

F. Hale

John tucked the letter into his trouser pocket, and leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. Now was not the time to go dashing off. The mill would still need all his attention to truly be brought back from the edge, and Fanny was advancing well into her pregnancy. Perhaps waiting until after she had delivered would give Fred and Margaret enough time to settle and establish their household.

But, as many knew, John Thornton was not a patient man.

A/N: I do hope that was a bit more cheerful for everyone! I've finally spent a bit of much needed time with my partner and now I feel like being a bit nicer to Mrs Gaskell's characters.

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