Chapter 13

The evening of Christmas Day found Margaret sitting in her favourite armchair by the parlour fire, a cup of sweet tea on the arm rest and Milton stretched across her lap. She was supposedly reading a new book Fred and Dolores had gifted her, the latest popular novel, but she was too full and sleepy after an excellent Christmas luncheon to focus on the words. Fred and Dolores had already withdrawn for the night. Poor Dolores was becoming increasingly beset with nausea and fatigue as the babe inside her grew and grew, and so she oft retired much earlier than the rest of the house these days.

Fred had also retired, not wanting to leave his wife alone, and so after many cheerful assurances that she would be perfectly content by herself, they had departed. Milton made good company sprawled across her lap, and so she was happy to sit by the fire and ponder her many thoughts. She marvelled over what an improvement this Christmas had been over the previous year. Last Christmas had been a dark one, prisoner both inside Harley Street and inside her mind. Visions of those she had lost plagued her day by day while dreams of what she could have had taunted her at night. Her fists balled up on the arms of the chair and she screwed her eyes shut as she became lost in this wave of grim recollections. Milton stirred awake at the involuntary whimper she let out, and instinctively stretched to butt his head against her cheek. The warm softness of his fur and the soothing sound of his purr gently pulled her back to the present. No use dwelling on where she had been, she must keep moving forward. She determined to focus on the merry festivities she had partaken of this year. She, Fred and Dolores had exchanged gifts that morning, around the small tree they had eventually decided upon. Margaret was privately relieved they had not indulged the tradition of live candles, as Milton had constantly conspired to pull the whole thing down. They had gone to church and listened to carollers in the street, enjoying cups of mulled wine with their neighbours. Dixon had excelled herself with the lunch she had put on for them. Their joint of beef was as good as any turkey the Queen may have been enjoying.

The past few weeks had also brought her the first of her new correspondence with Mr Thor… John. She thrilled as she rolled his name over and over her tongue. It was such a simple name for someone who was anything but. She was sure there was a lot to learn about him, and that the letters they shared would barely scratch the surface. But she looked forward to the opportunity to learn, nonetheless.

She walked over to a large desk the three of them shared, used chiefly for letter writing. They each had a box where they stored their correspondence and stocks of writing materials. She opened hers and pulled out the letter he had sent, returning to her armchair to peruse the contents one more time.

Dearest Margaret,

I hope this letter finds you well and merrily anticipating the festive season. I have relayed your thanks to Higgins and the Boucher children and they again relay their very best wishes to you this festive season. Though there is indeed less work at the mill – there is hardly a clamour for cotton during one of the coldest winters we've had for a while – I still find there is much to be done for Christmas. Despite not ordering one for myself, I found myself spending a whole afternoon helping Watson haul a Christmas tree through their house. (Margaret almost chuckled as she could vividly imagine the roll of his eyes and sardonic tone that would have accompanied this sentence) My scattered sister forgot that the day she had arranged for the tree to be delivered was the day she had given the footmen off. The men that dropped it off weren't much help, as they were bound to the Latimer's with an order of two trees. However, my sister grows wearier by the day as the babe continues to grow, so perhaps we should not be too harsh. She is due not long after New Year, so now we are playing quite the waiting game. She thanks you for the additions to her blanket, they compliment the colours of the others wonderfully.

My mother is well and sends her good wishes to you and your family.

Although you will not accept it, I do apologise for arriving as impulsively as I did, and for giving Dolores quite the fright. Higgins gave me your gifts, and suddenly there was no other thought than that I had to see you. Until the moment I saw you, it felt like a moment of madness. Looking back on it now, I think it was a fortuitous moment of fate. Being able to be truthful about my feelings to you, and know that you return them, has brought me greater joy and relief than any gift I could receive.

I still honour my promise to you and will wait as long as you need me to. I do not know what I have done to earn your regard, but I will endeavour to prove that I am deserving of it. I know it shall never be as fine as Helstone, but I would move mountains to make a life in Milton as comfortable and happy as you need.

I wish you and your family a very Merry Christmas.

God bless you,

John

Margaret set the letter down on the arm with a small smile. It had arrived a week ago, and she confessed herself too caught up in Christmas preparations to compose a proper reply. She decided it would be best to apply herself to the task soon, before poor John arrived back on her doorstep in a panic that she had changed her mind.

She wandered back over to the writing desk and took a sheet of paper and her pen out of her box. She dipped her pen in ink and began to write.

Dear John,

Your letter found me in the highest of spirits, I thank you. We have just passed a most wonderful Christmas day as our odd little family of four. Dixon put on an excellent luncheon after our usual sojourn to church and a very pleasing afternoon walk. We put up a tree of our own here, although I am sorry to hear of your struggles! We did not choose a particularly large tree, which I am glad of. Milton has spent the past week finding new spots in the tree to sequester himself in. I am so very fond of him, but it is an awful shock to be admiring the tree and suddenly spot his eyes gleaming back at you, they look rather menacing shrouded in darkness. And when he is not trying to claim it as his new bed, he is treating it as his new toy and conspiring to pull the whole thing down. Fred and Dolores were greatly diverted by the spectacle, but I could pull my hair out! However, Dixon swears she spied a mouse or two the other day, so he may be put to work soon. It may help distract him from his mischief.

I think you are too hard on yourself about Milton. Helstone holds beauty, it is true, but there is little substance behind the beauty. This place is not touched by poverty or illness in the way that Milton is. Dolores and I spend most of our days idling at home, embroidering more cushions and darning socks. Knowing that there are people that are in true need of any help I could give, but utterly unreachable can be frustrating to me. I was raised to a life as a gentleman's wife, planning endless tea parties and soirees, but that life no longer holds traction to me. I wish to be somewhere I am truly needed and useful. I was uncharitable about Milton during our first acquaintance, but I was angry at my father for taking us away from what seemed a perfect life and determined to deride everything I saw. I can now see how wrong that was of me and can only ask your forgiveness in return. How much sooner we may have reached an understanding if I had been more open to understanding this new life!

However, when I return to Milton, it will be of my own volition. To make a choice of my own for the first time, you cannot understand what that means.

Forgive my frankness. The past months of illness and uncertainty have taught me that it is always best to say exactly what I am thinking or feeling. You may find the blunt honesty refreshing, you may find the impertinence tiring and pack me back off to Helstone, we shall see. Assure yourself that you have chosen a wife who will always give you the absolute truth, for better or worse.

I realise, as I write this, that I know many complicated things about you, but I do not know many small and trifling things about you. When is your birthday? What is your favourite colour? Food? I want a complete sketch of the man I am to share a life with, and at the moment I only have a few outlines. Please feel free to ask as many trifling questions about me as you please.

A life with you is all that I require to be happy, but perhaps I may be permitted to bring Milton with me? I still struggle often with being alone, and your mother may not always appreciate me trailing around with her. Milton is fine company and helps calm my fears marvellously.

I do hope that your sister is keeping well in the small weeks before the birth. She and Watson are in my prayers for a safe delivery. Do pass along my regards to your mother.

Fred mentioned a desire to come and see your mill sometime after the New Year. Please let us know when would be convenient for a visit, we are entirely at your disposal.

I hope you and your family have had a merry Christmas and I am

yours, most sincerely,

Margaret

She signed this letter and placed the cap back on her pen. She realised that she had wrote a rather long rambling letter in response to what had been a simple missive, but she did not think much of it. She hoped John would be buoyed by the recognition that she was giving serious consideration to the life they would build together and was not ducking out on him. She ruminated on this sudden twist in their acquaintanceship as she folded the papers to envelope them. A man who only a few weeks ago she was convinced she would barely ever see again was now beginning preparations to welcome her home as his wife. His wife. A position most had thought she would never hold. The sudden changes in her circumstances were a lot to get her head around, and she was still half convinced she would suddenly wake up to find it had all been a fantastical dream. The change in this man she had thought of almost constantly was also a lot to digest. Where he had once glanced at her with stern glances and formidable silence, there was now open smiles and warm laughter. She had thrilled in those soft brushes of his hand and the warm strength of his arm as she held it on their walk and found herself bereft without his touch.

She knew she was lucky to have found a man like John and that his behaviour was not usual of his sex. Even in her recovery, Henry's once marked attentions to her had disappeared altogether. He had but rarely visited to enquire after her health, despite her seeing his brother almost daily, choosing to retreat to his work and leave her to the care of her brother and cousin. He was also to be engaged, Margaret had heard, to the charming and accomplished sister of one of his legal associates or some other. Although she had never really harboured any affection for him beyond that of a friend and almost relation, the thought that he could turn away from her so quickly still stung what little pride she could hold onto these days. John, who had been unwaveringly attentive to her, even from afar, both in her illness and recovery was placed leagues ahead of Henry Lennox in Margaret's affection.

She then happened to glance at the clock and realised that it was almost midnight. Poking the fire apart so that it would go out on its own, Margaret gathered Milton into her arms and retired to her bed.

The next day, Margaret and Fred elected to take a stroll while Dolores rested and Dixon went to visit some friends. Fred watched while she placed her letter in the post box and they carried on to a nearby park. Margaret wouldn't admit it but she relished this time with her brother and knew that it would be in short supply when the baby arrived. They paused to sit on a bench and Fred turned to look at her.

"When do you expect to be leaving for Milton?" Fred asked her with a small trace of sadness in his voice.

"Not anytime soon I think. John will have to prepare his mother for the marriage and that won't be an easy task. You should also remember that we have a battle of our own," Margaret replied.

"What battle is that?" Fred asked with confusion.

"Aunt Shaw will have to be informed," Margaret sighed. She was excited for her new life but she knew that the inevitable conversation with her aunt would not be an easy one. She had made her opinions of "that grimy place" clear on many occasions and Margaret was expecting no small amount of resistance to her departure.

Fred chuckled.

"Would you like me to recruit some old Navy pals for the offensive? She shall put up a battle no doubt. Do not worry yourself sister, I will be here with you."

"You do approve don't you? It's all so sudden, I fear I've quite runaway with myself" Margaret replied fretfully.

"I've told you before Margaret. I knew he was what you wanted and I promised I would help. I'm a man of my word. I've come to know him rather well through our business together and he is a reliable sort of chap, he will take good care of you I am sure. I know that father approved of him as well and that's enough for me. You have our full support, no matter what you choose. Just promise to come back and visit," Fred squeezed his sisters hand affectionately.

"How did you know that Dolores was the one for you?" Margaret asked her brother. He raised an eyebrow at this direct line of questioning but indulged his little sister.

"In Dolores, I knew that I had found a woman who knew all of my flaws, all of my darkest secrets, but could still love the man that I was underneath all of that. Love is not about finding the perfect person with no flaws; it is finding someone you can love in spite of their flaws"

Margaret reflected on these words. John had flaws to be sure, no one who had ever met him could deny it. He was quick to temper and could appear cold and almost uncaring to most that he met. However, Margaret knew that the latter part had developed from circumstance and was not entirely his natural personality. She knew first-hand that he could also be warm and tender and took great care of those he loved most.

She knew with all her heart that she would be able to love him despite any flaws. Yes, it would be difficult to be married to a man as quick tempered as he, but Margaret was sure she could learn how best to bring him back to rationality.

Fred was smiling at her knowingly.

"Forgive my impertinence sister, but I did happen a glance at the letter he sent. I had to check that he was not abusing my trust by writing absolute vulgarity," Fred smiled wryly, as they both knew John Thornton completely incapable of such a thing. "He does seem completely besotted and determined to make a good life for you. If I had to throw my support behind any one person, he would not be the worst choice"

"Thank you," was all Margaret needed to say as she looked at her brother. He nodded and they resumed their walk.

About a week later, John set the letter from Margaret down with a satisfied smile. It cheered him to know that she was still serious in her acceptance of him, he just needed to be patient a short while longer. He tucked the letter into his jacket pocket and left his office to check over mill progress while the workers ate luncheon.

The sight that greeted him in the courtyard was most bizarre. Higgins was stood in the courtyard, absorbed in conversation with one of the women from the spinning room. She smiled at something he said, before spotting Mr Thornton and scurrying away with a quick nod of her head. Higgins spun to see what had scared her off, and raised an eyebrow sternly at John, who smiled back at him, while also looking at him questioningly.

"Who was your acquaintance?"

Higgins huffed at the rather direct line of questioning before answering.

"M' neighbour, Missus Jones. She were askin' abou' th' children. Little Susie 'ad the flu las' week, n' she 'elped look after th' others"

"She seemed awfully amused by something you said. Never took you for a jester," John replied wryly. Higgins huffed again.

"Arthur is gettin' fond of 'er. Chewin' me ear off wonderin' when she'll come back. She though' it were funny"

"Doesn't she have children of her own to watch?"

"None o' her babes survived pas' childhood, poor mites. 'Er 'usband died few years back an' all, poor lass hasn' 'ad an easy time of it"

John frowned. Since the death of his father, he had had more of an appreciation for the hardships widows could face in this world. His mother, alone with two children to feed, no income and shunned by all she had once called friends, had teetered on the brink of total catastrophe. She could have simply packed them all off to the workhouse, but instead had determined that they would make their own way in this world. Yes, things had gone very hard for them for the first few years, but at least they could be proud that every penny they scraped together was theirs to keep and kept a roof over their head that was all their own. What Mrs Jones had gone through, having to bury all her children and then her husband, was still quite beyond John's comprehension. The closure of the mill could have been the end of her. At this moment she came hurrying back across the yard, and John appraised her. She was a short, squat women, who bore the figure of a woman who had carried several children. However, her hair was a vibrant red under the grey streaks that were setting in, perhaps some Irish blood in her, and her eyes were wide and a pleasant shade of green. She was pleasant enough to look at but did not hold a candle to his Margaret. However, he turned to Higgins and had to supress a laugh at the misty look on his face as he stared after her. He bid Higgins farewell, though he was not sure it was heard, and carried on his way.

He thought nothing of it until a week later when Higgins came to his office. Never one to beat about the bush, Higgins got right to it.

"Master, I've come t' ask for a day off. I've asked Missus Jones t' marry me, an' she said yes"

"Congratulations. But why so soon?" John asked, a little bewildered.

"Landlord of our street pu' all the rents up, n' Lottie cannae afford 'ers no more. I tol' 'er, she can move into our 'ouse. Mary is leavin' soon, as there's lodgin' up at the new 'ouse she's workin in, so we can squeeze her in. We're both jus' wantin' some company, both bein' widows an' the children wan' a mother"

John smiled at Higgins at this ever-sensible suggestion. Not everyone in this world had the fortune to marry for love, some were required to marry for much more sensible and practical reasons. However, he had seen them together enough times to know that there was enough affection, that hopefully something of love would grow between them.

"I will keep it mind. Come back when you have set a date. I suppose half the mill will want it off as well to come and wish you well," John replied. He dismissed Higgins with a benign wave of his hand, and reapplied himself to the task of writing a reply letter to Margaret.

My dear Margaret,

I am glad that you and your family had a pleasant Christmas. We did have an enjoyable time here, but it was back to work very quickly for most of us. I am sorry that Milton has been such a rascal for you, some work should be a fitting remedy for him. Of course you may bring him with you, I am always in need of mousers for the cotton store houses.

Knowing that you know all the faults of my home and still wish to come is very comforting. I would only ever wish you to be able to make an informed choice and know that you are coming to me with your eyes open. It is touching that you would wish to help the people in this way, but I suppose a part of me just wants to protect you from more hurt and pain than you have already suffered.

Honesty is all I could ever ask from you, my darling. You think after longing for you for so long, I would pack you back off at the first sign of impertinence? I know that you would never say anything out of malice, and any truth I hear from you would be well deserved.

I do find it odd that I don't know the same things about you and will gladly indulge your curiosity if you will oblige me the same information. My birthday is on the 22nd August, and I would say that my favourite food is lamb. I would not say I have a favourite colour, but I am becoming rather partial to the blue of your eyes. I would wish you to have a complete sketch of me. I suppose I could also tell you that I like to drink coffee with only a dash of milk and coffee, and do not care very much for fish.

Higgins also sends his and his family's best wishes along to you. It seems Higgins is to be married. He and his neighbour, Mrs Jones, have formed an acquaintance and are happy to have a companion again after many years of widowhood between them.

I would gladly welcome you and Fred for a visit, and you are welcome to come any time. We shall gladly receive you at any time convenient to yourselves.

God bless you,

John

He had just signed the letter and had placed the piece of paper with her address on it to post it, when his office door burst open again. He was about to crossly reprimand whoever had burst in without invitation, when he recognised the girl as a maid from Fanny's house, who looked like she had sprinted here.

"Begging your pardon Sir, but I am bidden by your mother to come fetch you. Mrs Watson's labour pains have begun," she gasped out.

John was immediately on his feet, and barked instructions at a clerk to send the letter for him. However, unnoticed by him, his coat knocked the papers off his desk as he swung it around his shoulders. The letter was later then swept up by a maid who came to clean. Mistaking it for discarded business matters, it was tossed into the fire.

AN: I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.