AN: Would you forgive the delay if I told you it was because it was my birthday? 26 feels mighty fine!

Chapter 14

Dolores was getting dizzy, watching Margaret pace a hole into the floor, wringing her hands and biting her lip. The poor post officer had been set upon almost instantly by Margaret as he walked up the path and had beat a hasty retreat when his lack of post from a certain Northern town was an unsatisfactory answer.

"Margaret, it will be okay. It has not been so long," Dolores attempted to soothe her.

"It has been almost three weeks!" Margaret replied rather frantically "I am sure he would have replied by now!"

"You don't know that sister. You have not been writing to each other very long," Dolores replied, at a loss as to how to calm her. Margaret merely paced on, unable to displace a feeling deep in her stomach that something wasn't right.

"We've got bigger problems!" Fred declared, startling them all as he came down the stairs, "Aunt Shaw is going to be here within the hour and you are going to have to tell her your news Migsy"

Margaret pushed the feeling aside, knowing she could address this issue later. For now, she would smile, greet her Aunt warmly, and hope that she would take this latest development well.

She was not taking this well. Margaret wondered if John would be able to hear her Aunt's protests all the way up in Milton and Fred was beginning to seriously worry for her health, admiring a throbbing vein in her temple he had seen but rarely. Edith, who had an unnerving talent for predicting these sorts of events before they happened (easy enough when one is both a hopeless romantic and notorious gossip), merely sipped her tea and sent her cousin supportive smiles, knowing it was best to let her mother's anger run its course.

"What could you be thinking Margaret? You are so ill and frail, and that place is so grimy and filthy, it will be surely be the end of you!"

"Aunt, I understand your worries, but I believe Mr Thornton is the best choice"

"How is any husband the best choice? I saw how ill you were Margaret; I could not bear to see you deteriorate again!"

"I will not! He makes no demands of me besides my company; I will not risk deteriorating"

"How can you know that?! He could change his mind; those merchant men are so used to getting their way!" Aunt Shaw seemed determined to win this argument, and Margaret sighed, gathering all her strength and patience.

"Mr Thornton is not the sort to go back on his word Aunt. He is too honourable for that. I am so much better than I was, and I cannot spend the rest of my life dependant on the charity of my relatives. He offers me a home and will make no demand on my inheritance. I can still be an independent woman. I am grateful for all that everyone has done for me, but I am ready to make my way in the world"

"You cannot understand what you are agreeing to! To remove yourself so far away from all your family, how would we help you if something went wrong?"

"Please Aunt, you must understand – "

"No, you will understand Margaret! You will understand what you are asking of me! I have already been forced to watch my sister leave for that awful place, never to return. Do not ask me to watch you leave as well!"

Margaret then finally saw the genuine fear in her Aunt's eyes, and they arrived at the crux of the matter. Aunt Shaw had never truly gotten over losing her beloved sister and placed all the blame solely on Milton and its smoky and gloomy atmosphere. As far as she was concerned, Margaret had begun hammering the nails in her own coffin by agreeing to go back. Margaret rose from her chair and went to stand with her Aunt, who had been pacing in front of the fireplace during her tirade. She took her Aunt's hands in her own and looked up at her.

"Aunt, you loved and miss Mother just as I do, as do we all. Milton is not solely to blame for her passing. She was ailing before we left, Father may have been wiser to send her to you. She was always worrying, about Father, about Fred, about the friends she was leaving. She was already of a frail constitution, it is very likely that… she would have died, no matter where we went" Seeing that she had finally coaxed her Aunt into silence, she continued.

"It is not as if I will be going off forever. Mr Thornton mentioned often having business meetings in London, we shall come and see you whenever he is bidden to these meetings. Fred practically refused his blessing until I promised to come and see him every summer and Christmas. I will tell you every day if I must Aunt, but I will always be grateful for everything you have ever done for me, and for Fred. Please do not think that I am attempting to scorn all your kind and gentle care toward me. Milton was one of the first places I ever felt truly useful and… needed, not just wanted. I must go back."

Everyone held their breath while they waited for Aunt Shaw to reply. At least her expression had calmed from complete outrage to a slight frown. Finally, she sighed, and all the fight seemed to sag out of her. She looked around for somewhere to sit, and Fred leapt out of his seat like someone had lit a firecracker under him. She sank into it, and looked up at her niece, seeming to properly see her for the first time in months. Gone was the frail, sickly creature of all those months ago. Margaret was back from whatever darkness she had been pulled into and seemed determined to take her life into her own hands. She, oddly, addressed her first question to Fred.

"What does the doctor say of her progress?"

"He's pleased enough. As long as she keeps up a sturdy diet and doesn't expose herself to too much excitement or stress, she should be able to carry on just fine, whatever she chooses to do"

She then looked at her niece and finally smiled, albeit sadly.

"There never was any talking you down from something you decided to do, was there Margaret? Sometimes I think you are too much like me. Truly, I do not wish to see you go, but I must accept that I cannot stop you. You are of age and I am no longer your legal guardian. I cannot tell you I am happy for you, but I will send you away with my best wishes, nonetheless. Just promise to write to us, as often as you can"

Margaret smiled sadly. She wished her Aunt would be able to be happy for her in her new life, but she knew she should accept this small victory. But, soon enough, her aunt seemed to be back to her usual grandiose self.

"Well, we should at least look over your winter wardrobe before we depart. It has been a while since you were last fitted and I daresay you shall need thicker garments than the usual linen dresses you have been wearing here. I am sure Mrs Rivers will be able to create some things for you if I send her your measurements"

Edith brightened at the mention of new clothes and Margaret had to suppress the urge to role her eyes. She had only just about got her aunt on side; it would not do to offend her now. She had never truly understood her aunt and cousin's obsession with new dresses and keeping to the latest fashion. She had been raised a parson's daughter, she preferred clothes cut in simple styles and from materials that could endure a little wear and tear.

She nodded along to Edith's chatter about the colours that were currently the most fashionable and who made the best lace to trim bonnets.

"Please do not go to too much expense Aunt. A new dress and some thicker shawls will perfectly suffice," Margaret interjected hastily before Edith ran amok.

"It is no worry Margaret; I shall rest easier knowing you are going back sufficiently prepared for the colder climate. Consider it a… wedding gift"

"Thank you, Aunt," Margaret replied quietly.

The talk continued in this fashion for some time, and Margaret found herself bundled upstairs by Edith and a maid to be sufficiently measured so that Aunt Shaw could convey the necessary information back to London. While they were gone, Aunt Shaw sat by the fire a while to ponder this new development.

"It is a shame that Henry Lennox had to dash off and get married so hastily. He and Margaret would have made a fine match, and it would have kept her in London. If only the man had been a little more patient," she remarked to Fred and Dolores. Fred's main impressions of the man had come from their short correspondence about his possible defence case, and he had only met the man once, which confirmed everything he'd ever thought of him. Practical to the point of bluntness and almost completely humourless. Margaret would have gone truly mad tied to a man such as that. No, Fred was happy to put his faith for Margaret's future entirely in John's hands, whatever the blasted man was up to.

"I have never heard Margaret express any regard for Henry beyond that of a business partner and family member. I do not think they would have been the best match," he replied to his aunt. She merely huffed and continued gazing into the fire.

Finally, the ladies came back downstairs, Margaret having brought Milton down from where he had been shut up in her room. Edith was fawning over him as if he were one of her precious babes, and he was content to accept her admiration.

Aunt Shaw turned her nose up slightly (she had always had a dislike of animals, as they were not conducive to keeping a house clean and presentable) but did not comment. Suddenly, the hour was upon them for farewells. After tearful embraces from Edith and much hustling and bustling from her mother, they were handed into a cab to take them back to the station. Margaret and Fred waved them off, Dolores having gone to bed to rest as the babe increasingly wore her out.

"Well, she took that rather better than I was expecting," Fred remarked to his sister. She frowned before replying.

"But I have not heard anything from him for almost a month. What if he has changed his mind and is afraid to tell me? What if I have just valiantly defended him for nothing?"

Fred could not bear to see his sister look so forlorn.

"I do adore you sister, but that constant dreary look on your face is starting to drag me down too"

She whirled around with an offended look on her face, only to find him almost laughing.

"We Hales were always curious creatures, weren't we? Go and pack a bag, we're on the next train out of here. We'll find out what's got him hiding away ourselves"

As it turned out, the next train up to Milton wasn't going to be until the next morning. This at least gave Margaret and Fred time to plan something slightly more rational than kicking John's office door down themselves. It was agreed that Dixon would remain and attend Dolores, and that Fred would engage a local girl to help Margaret while they were there. Milton was also to remain behind, although he was largely more self sufficient than Dolores and would not be too challenging a charge. Margaret went up to her room and ensured her travelling dress was laid out to change into and that she had packed everything she needed. She was suddenly so overwrought by the day's events that she merely pulled off her dress and corset and unpinned her hair before collapsing into bed.

Dixon did not thank her for it early next morning, when she had to painstakingly brush through the bird's nest that had gathered on Margaret's head, before finally pinning it into a neat bun. She was laced into her dress; she and Fred hastily ate a small breakfast and Dolores emerged to wave them off. She kissed Fred and embraced her sister.

"Good luck," she murmured to Margaret. Fred and Margaret headed for the cab to bear them to the train station, and before they knew it they were slowly pulling out of the station. Margaret's stomach turned over and over as she stared out the window, while Fred perused the newspaper. What on earth was John thinking, to fall so mysteriously silent? Had he indeed changed his mind, and was finding the best way to tell her? Had some accident or tragedy befallen him? Oh, what if something had happened to the mill? She was in danger of being lost to maudlin visions of disease and death or fires and riots, so determined to engage Fred in conversation.

"Have you and Dolores thought of any names for the child?" she asked, watching his head shoot up from his paper. He screwed up his face, thinking back to a hazy conversation.

"We were thinking Maria or Richard, for Mother and Father. But Dolores also wants Spanish names as well as English. Perhaps Isabelle. She also likes Fabian; he was her favourite brother. Perhaps a name will come to us when we finally meet the little one," he replied.

This was what Margaret liked about Fred. He had learned to accept completely random changes in the conversation without any questions. Her rather rigid posture in her seat suggested she needed more of a diversion, so Fred tossed his paper aside.

"Do not worry yourself pet. I've not know Mr Thornton long but he does not seem the sort to make a decision at breakfast and change his mind at lunch. There will be a perfectly reasonable explanation, I am sure"

She chuckled and then shook her head.

"I am sure I will go quite stir cooped up in this carriage. Read something from that newspaper. Perhaps we can talk about some of the things those important men in Parliament are always bickering about"

Fred laughed and retrieved the paper from his seat. It seemed the country was in need of a new Prime Minister, so Fred and Margaret passed a satisfactory amount of time discussing the issues Mr Hamilton-Gordon's successor should address.

Both of them started when the train finally lurched to a stop in Milton, and then sprang into action. They had come packed light, as they only intended to stay a few days. They were both easily able to lift their own cases and step down from the train.

Margaret paused slightly when she stepped off the train, remembering the grief and sadness she had been trapped under when she last left this place. But hearing the noise and bustle wash over her again breathed a new sort of energy into her. She finally felt… alive. She turned and realised Fred was waiting for her to lead on, having very little knowledge of this place. She marched down the stairs that led under the station and out onto the main street.

She could not helping turning her head left and right as she walked down the street. Her time in Milton felt like a lifetime ago, and she was drinking in the sights almost as if she were seeing it for the first time. People gazed at her as she walked by, perhaps vaguely recognising her, perhaps wondering who the strange gentleman beside her was. Perhaps wondering why, in a street of people shuffling about with their heads down, she was practically skipping.

Fred frowned as they made their way closer to Marlborough Mills, as the streets seemed a little too quiet and empty. Surely there should be horses and carts, and people?

He looked up and realised Margaret had stopped dead in front of a large wooden gate. A large gate that was currently closed and bolted.

Margaret's stomach churned harder than ever and she was in danger of losing what little breakfast she'd eaten. She and Fred exchanged troubled looks as they stared up at the gate, at a loss as to what to do. They both then almost leapt out of their skin as a little side door that they had not noticed creaked open and a man with a flat cap and impressive moustache came out. He also started at the sight of them, although his eyes glimmered with recognition as he looked at Margaret.

"Ye wantin' t' see Master? Mill's closed f' th' day," he explained calmly.

"Closed? Whatever for?" Fred almost demanded, earning himself a strange look. Margaret recognised the fellow now. Williams, his name was, one of John's main overseers.

"Not from roun' here are ye? Closed f' a wedding"

Margaret let out an involuntary whimper and Fred immediately tucked her hand into his arm, attempting to hold her up. He would get the information he needed out of this man, see his sister to her hotel room, then kill Thornton with his bare hands.

Williams was looking more puzzled than ever by their behaviour.

"Aye. Master closed th' mill f' a day. One o' his main hands, 'Iggins is t' wed in th' afternoon. O' course, awl the 'ands came beggin' t' go. So, Master closed up as a gift t' 'em. Gave 'em all th' day off"

The tight twisting in Margaret's stomach finally began to abate. It was Higgins who had got married. John had not abandoned her. She even remembered to be pleased for her dear friend and endeavoured to seek him out when she had chance.

"Well congratulations to the fellow," Fred managed to reply, looking slightly dumbstruck at this turn in events "Is the Master about to discuss business, or has he joined the festivities?"

Williams looked, if possible, slightly offended by the notion that the grand master had lowered himself to a day in the tavern with mill hands. He raised an eyebrow at Fred.

"Not Master's place t' intrude on th' worker's celebrations. Wha' business are ye needin' to discuss?" he asked Fred suspiciously.

Fred pulled a few papers out of his briefcase, a rather obtuse Christmas offering from one Henry Lennox. Margaret had puzzled at the rather ugly bonnet he had sent her, not sure if he genuinely thought it pleasant or meant to insult her in some odd way.

"We are the godchildren of the late Mr Bell. He bequeathed us to be joint landlords of Marlborough and made a final investment. We came to see that the mill was recovering sufficiently"

Williams' entire demeanour changed in an instant.

"Oh! Beggin' ye pardon Sir, bu' we weren' thinkin' t' have visitors today. I can 'ave the ledgers and accounts ready for ye t' view in jus' a few moments," he offered, making to turn back into the mill.

"Do not worry, I would not be able to make odds or ends of them on my own. If you could simply tell us where we may call upon Mr Thornton, we could arrange a meeting with him ourselves. I am sure he will forgive the impertinence"

Williams frowned.

"Not sure we're talkin' abou' th' same Mr Thornton. Bu' if ye insist, I las' saw him headin' up the hill t' the graveyard," he finally offered, waving in the general direction of the church.

Fred looked at his sister.

"Go and find him, you know your way better than I do. I'll take these to the hotel and find you later," Fred offered, taking Margaret's case from her hand. She smiled, whispered a strangled thankyou and was gone in a whirl of linen.

Margaret did not remember the climb up the hill being quite this arduous but supposed she had not yet recovered her full strength. She looked around and spotted the graves of Bessie and the Bouchers. She paused a moment and said a prayer for their souls, before looking up to continue along the path to where her parents were buried. She spotted their headstones and startled when she spotted who was already standing there.

"John," she whispered almost fervently, a large breath finally escaping her chest. She resisted the urge to sprint up the hill to him. That sort of exertion would probably have her bedridden for a week. She walked slowly up, noticing that he seemed completely lost in thought. She was wondering how best to announce herself when she accidentally snapped a twig under her foot and John's head came shooting up. He looked about wildly before landing on her, and his eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline.

"Miss Hale?!" he spluttered, so shocked that he reverted to their usual formal address. He started towards her. To touch her, embrace her, to know that she was real, just something. However, Margaret suddenly found the weeks of uncertainty and the panic of thinking she had been abandoned overwrought her, and her arm recoiled and struck out quite of its own accord. The loud crack of her hand against his cheek brought her back to herself and she stared in horror of her own behaviour. But as God was her witness, she was going to have answers. He was staring at her agape, and she took advantage of his silence.

"Where have you been?! It has been near a month and we heard nothing from you! What have you been doing John?! We got so worried that we came to find you!"

Oddly, she did not shriek or shout as she said this, and it came out in more of a harsh whisper. She did not want to draw too much attention to them, unchaperoned as they were, and the parson's daughter in her chided her that they were in a sacred place and should not disturb the dead.

John's face melted from confusion to horror as he took her angry outburst in and the words almost fell over each other as he rushed to explain.

"My letter!" he almost cried, bringing a hand to his forehead "I wrote a letter… and then Fanny… I must have knocked it off the desk as I left!"

"Your sister? Mrs Watson, is she alright?" Margaret demanded, sympathy overriding her anger for the moment.

"Yes yes, she's fine, safely delivered," John waved this momentous occasion aside with a blasé wave of his hand, more concerned with Margaret's distress. "I have been so wrapped up in Fanny's delivery, she fell ill for a while after the birth, she is fine now, do not distress yourself!" he added quickly, as Margaret's hand flew to her mouth in a gasp. "I have been so wrapped up in her recovery and the mill that I did not think to check for a letter. I thought you busy, or away in London somewhere. I'm so sorry Margaret, what kind of husband will I be?!"

The poor man looked so utterly dejected that any remaining anger abated instantly. This did not bode well, Margaret thought wryly, to take a husband she seemed unable to stay angry with. Heaven knows what else he might get away with.

"You seem to have done marvellously as a brother, so I suppose that is a good start," she replied softly, and his head shot up to meet her gaze.

"How are you not furious with me? I allowed you to stay all alone in Helstone believing the worst had happened!"

"I am a little cross, it is true. But you and I have had far worse misunderstandings, have we not? Yet here we still stand. If everyone gave up at the first little hurdle marriage would have gone extinct generations ago"

He smiled wryly at her jest and as he acknowledged the truth of her words.

"I still must apologise most ardently, Margaret. How can I make it up to you?"

"There is nothing to apologise for John. Life happens, things that we cannot control. I suppose it would be easier to avoid these things if…" she trailed off, a short spark of courage abandoning her. However, John was as grasping and determined as he'd ever been and seized upon her half-statement.

"If? What could I do?" he asked gently. Margaret took a deep breath.

"If I was here with you. As your wife," she said quietly.

John sat so silent and still that for a moment Margaret thought he hadn't heard her, or that he did indeed intend to withdraw his offer. Then he began to laugh, and Margaret was almost offended until she saw the absolute joy in his eyes. It completely washed away his usual stern exterior and made him look almost a boy again. He raised a hand to his face, and it was trembling violently.

"You mean it?" he almost whispered, staring at her earnestly "You wish to come home… with me?"

She smiled as she took his shaking hand in her own.

"I was happy in Helstone, but coming back to Milton, this is the most… alive I have felt in months. I know I was reluctant, but I cannot live my life in fear anymore. I love you John Thornton" she said, smiling radiantly. John let out an odd noise that was somewhere between a cough and an actual sob.

"I love you, Margaret Hale, will you be my wife?"

"Could you agree to take a woman who may never give you children?" she asked suddenly, her old fears and doubts creeping in. John however, smiled serenely.

"You must have also missed my mother's letter announcing Fanny's delivery. Twin boys," he announced. "You should hear Fanny go on about it, she thinks herself the cleverest woman in England to give her husband his heir and the spare in one go," he told her with a hard roll of his eyes. Margaret giggled.

"That is wonderful news indeed. But I must ask, what is that to do with us?"

"I spoke to Watson not long after the birth. He knows only a little of your illness and my hopes of marrying you. He is agreeable that, should we not produce children of our own, I should name the younger boy my heir and teach him the running of Marlborough, to inherit when I am gone" he smiled, rather pleased with himself for this most practical arrangement.

"Oh John, do not speak of death now. But that is a most wonderful idea. I suppose you should have liked a Thornton to take on Marlborough, and keep it in the family name," Margaret fretted.

"The boy will still have Thornton blood in his veins. A name is but a name Margaret," John replied sagely. "Now, have I settled all your concerns? Will I have an answer?"

Margaret rolled her eyes.

"Patience has never been your strong suit Mr Thornton. We shall have to see what we can do about that" Then her face softened. "Yes, I will stay, and be your wife"

He smiled then, so broadly that she could see all his teeth and took her hand in his, to press a kiss to the soft knuckles. Then, he looked over her shoulder, and almost fell over jumping backwards, to put a respectable distance between them.

"Margaret!"

She whirled, and spotted Fred walking up the hill toward them. She waved to him, and he carried on to join them.

"Ah Thornton, we finally found you. Glad to see there is no catastrophe, we were quite thinking the worst"

"I do apologise for that. I explained to Margaret that my sister suffered a brief illness after giving birth, so we were all preoccupied with seeing her well recovered"

"Gracious, I am glad she is well"

"I am glad you joined us Fred, I must tell you something," Margaret told her brother. He smiled and looked at John expectedly.

"Mr Thornton has asked me to marry him, and I have accepted" she told him, her voice full of confidence. Fred beamed, embraced her, and shook John's hand.

"Congratulations. I will be sorry to see you go sister, but I would not part with you for anyone else"

"Thankyou, brother," Margaret replied, wiping tears from her eyes. Fred turned to look over Milton

"Right, where to now?"

AN: It was one of those "I wasn't motivated to write and life ran away with me" times. We're so near the end now, I hope you've enjoyed coming on the ride with me.

Sid x