Chapter 18

The warm happiness that settling her supposed enmity with Anne Latimer brought upon her did not leave Margaret for a full few weeks. However, she did not have much time to sit and ruminate on it, as she had forgotten quite how much work went into packing up one's whole life to move to another city. She wasn't sure how, as she'd had plenty of practice at it by now. First for all the journeys between her parents in Helstone and Aunt Shaw in London as a child. Next there was the first dreaded move to Milton with her parents, then the miserable retreat back to London. And finally, the glorious return to Helstone with her beloved brother.

All of those times however, had been overseen by a tidal wave of well-meaning but intrusive servants and the occasional relation. Margaret remembered how indignant she had often felt at being boxed up and being shipped off to wherever the powers that be pleased. This time, as a soon to be married woman, she was determined to take matters into her own hand.

However, the task at hand was proving more than Margaret had reckoned on, and her beloved but obstinate Aunt Shaw had had more than a fair hand in that. The half promised, half threatened trousseau had arrived from London and Dolores was currently helping her work through trying the garments on to check that everything fit her, while a local seamstress looked on to provide assistance. However, between this trousseau and all the clothes she already owned, including the odd skirt or gown or trinket that had been showered upon her during her recovery by her veritable army of doting relatives, Margaret owned far more clothes than she could ever see herself wanting or needing and knew some would have to be selected to remain behind, either to be gifted to Dolores or to be refashioned into clothes for the poor boxes.

Examining herself in the long mirror, Margaret could at least be thankful that her aunt had listened to her pleas for simpler clothes as nothing in the box deviated too far from her usual simple and practical styles. She knew as John's wife that she would need some finer things for the events they attended, which her aunt had made sure to provide, but everything else would serve her just fine for everyday. Despite their simple style, the clothes still clearly boasted of being of a higher quality make than most in Milton. Margaret supposed that was her aunt's idea of a compromise.

All three women blushed furiously as Margaret then pulled out a scandalously thin nightgown, which she suspected her cousin had had a hand in choosing. The two other women were silent as Margaret beheld it, not sure what to do or say.

"I think the fit of it looks fine," Margaret finally stated, holding it against herself for the briefest moment, before gingerly placing it back in the box as though it were a musket shell that might detonate at any moment. The two other women nodded along happily, relieved to not ponder its purpose for too long.

Finally closing the lid on her repacked trousseau, Margaret then groaned as she turned and beheld the pile of clothes stacked on her bed and the open wardrobe. She had resolved that she would only take her trousseau and one other trunk. She was sure Marlborough mills did not possess a dressing room quite large enough for all of it, unless she proposed to commandeer their finer dining room.

She first resolved to choose the shoes she would be taking. She selected a few fine pairs of shoes for parties, two pairs of everyday shoes and a rather sumptuous pair of boots Edith had gifted her for the more inclement weather Milton might throw at her. Next in were her undergarments, shifts, corsets and several pairs of stockings, both linen and woollen. Then she sieved through her blouses. A few that were showing signs of disrepair were discarded, the same with her skirts. She also packed a small carpet bag with a few favourite books and pieces of her mother's jewellery that were bequeathed to her. Her sewing kit and favourite bottles of perfume also went in as well as all her packed-up jewellery. Finally, Margaret had two packed trunks and her carpet bag and she was also content the Thorntons were not about to drown in linen.

March and April had passed by quicker than she had thought. Now it was about to become May, and the date set for Margaret's move to Milton was almost upon them.

The promised wedding gown had also been completed by the incomparable Madame Ashe. Dolores had almost wept as Margaret had been laced into the gown at the final fitting, and Margaret had stifled a gasp upon catching sight of herself in Madame Ashe's long mirror. She looked almost other-worldly. They had also marvelled at the promised shawl. Madame Ashe's sister had produced a wonderfully intricate weave of woven yellow roses and orange blossoms that complimented each other perfectly. Margaret had almost wept looking at it. The yellow roses would be a perfect reminder of home as she went about her life in Milton.

She now looked over to where Dolores was rearranging her gown and shawl in their box, handling them as lovingly as though they were the child in her womb.

Margaret thanked the seamstress and showed her to the door. Just as she went to shut the door, she dived to the floor and scooped up a grey blur that had been attempting to dart outside.

"I do not think so Sir! You mind I don't decide to put you in your cage tonight!"

A glowering pair of eyes and a protesting yowl were all she got in reply. Chuckling, she placed Milton back on the floor and set him to chasing a string of wool she had unravelled from its ball. The poor lad was used to having complete run of the garden but with their departure so close, Margaret preferred to keep him where she could see him. Quite what John would make of her arriving past the expected date with nothing but a sheepish "I lost my cat" to explain herself she did not want to think about.

She dropped into her preferred armchair by the parlour fire, smiling when Milton quickly bored of his wool pursuits and opted to join her. She picked up the paper she had left abandoned there earlier, her latest letter from John.

My Dearest,

The day of your arrival draws closer, and I find I am almost as giddy as a schoolboy. Mother despairs that there will be no more sensible conversation until you arrive; I become so engrossed in going over all the arrangements in my head that she must repeat herself a few times to get my attention. She asks me to assure you that all the wedding arrangements in hand, and that she has been able to send for some of the yellow roses that you are so fond of, to include in the arrangements. I know you wished to have more of a role in the planning, but I think my mother has secretly enjoyed planning such an event. Perhaps in particular because Fanny has been distracted by the challenges of two babies, so she has not had Fanny's usual ostentatiousness to contend with in the planning. I have seen some of the arrangements and I know that they will suit your uncomplicated tastes to complete satisfaction. Such simplicity will be all that is needed, next to your beauty, my dearest.

I am pleased you found a wedding dress that has pleased you and thank you for sparing me excessive detail. I am sure that any gown you select will only enhance your natural beauty and make you look the goddess you are.

I am impatiently counting the days, and remain as always,

Forever Yours,

John

Margaret chuckled at the vision of her fiancé, sat glowering at the clock, willing the hands to move faster. If anyone could scowl time into speeding up, it was one John Thornton.

She took the letter and moved to her writing desk and set to writing John a reply.

Dear John,

Please thank your mother for arranging the yellow flowers for the wedding decorations. I am sure they will look very fine with the other flowers she has chosen. I am sure she will be very glad when these festivities are over, if conversation with you is as you describe. I do hope you are not making life too tasking for her. I do hope the Watsons are all in good health, please pass along my warmest regards.

I too am hoping for time to go a little quicker before I am back in Milton and can be your wife. Although part of me is enjoying the time I have with Fred and Dolores, just us little three. I do look forward to prying you away from your mill for summers here, if you can be spared.

Mr Bell arrives tomorrow, along with dear Edith, as we are to have a little supper and merriment together to mark my departure for Milton. Aunt Shaw is indisposed and cannot make the journey. I feel dreadful admitting it, but there shall probably be a little more merriment in her absence. Edith is quite runaway with the romance of our engagement and has not spoken a word against it. Aunt Shaw has had several, that I shall be glad to be spared from for the evening.

I feel quite churlish admitting it, but it is the truth of it. Pray for me that she never gets her hands on my correspondence.

I am glad that the day draws nearer for us to be reunited and am waiting as eagerly as you.

Always,

Your Margaret

Margaret set her pen to the side and sealed her letter, resolving to send it by first post the next day. She ate a merry dinner with Fred and Dolores and retired for the evening.

Everyone was in quite a fluster the next day, seeming to have forgotten how much work went into preparing a house for company. Mr Bell would be making use of a nearby hotel, so Margaret was tasked with making up an extra bed in her room for Edith. She was looking forward to lying in bed, gossiping into the small hours, as they did when they were girls. Preparations were already underway in making the third bedroom into a nursery for the expected child, so it was unsuitable as a guest room.

By some miracle, everything was ready by evening, when their guests were expected to arrive. The actual festivities were to begin the following day, but their guests were coming in from a distance and would need a full day to travel and rest themselves.

Edith was first across the threshold. She had left darling Sholto in the care of his capable nanny and slightly less capable but well-meaning father. Quite how a man could command a stern authority in an army barracks but be utterly confounded in the face of a wailing infant, Margaret could only guess. Upon her request, Edith was almost immediately escorted upstairs to Margaret's room, where she watched with delight as Margaret lifted the lid of a box to delicately remove her wedding gown and hold it out for her cousin's appraisal. Edith's raptures were so enthusiastic that Margaret could have presented her with the crown jewels themselves.

"Oh Migsy, how elegant it looks! Oh you shall be the most beautiful bride Milton has ever seen! And this dress is so elegant; your daughters and granddaughters could marry in this, it has such a timeless look to it!"

Margaret blushed at the praise but carefully avoided the mention of children. She and Edith settled into their usual pattern of chatter while Margaret helped her cousin change and refresh herself of her journey. Dolores then arrived to inform them that Dixon was ready to serve supper. They made a merry four over dinner, made merrier by the arrival of Mr Bell the following morning.

He beamed jovially at them all, despite the lines and pallor of his face betraying the illness that was beginning to take its toll. Margaret ushered him into a seat and plied him with tea and biscuits.

"Why thankyou my dear. You have always been the most nurturing soul, much like your father and mother. God give them both their rest," he beamed at her.

Mr Bell had been a busy man it seemed. Determined to sail as soon after Margaret's nuptials as possible, he had already arranged for some belongings to be shipped to Argentina to await him there. Most other things, his books and other trinkets, had been sold and the proceeds added to Fred and Margaret's fortunes, the former Mr Bell had now moved to include in his will.

He now beckoned for Margaret to come closer to him, which she indulged. To her surprise, he was holding out a small rectangular box to her.

"Although I am not well acquainted with the institution of marriage myself, I know it is the tradition for a bride to have 'something old' with her at the wedding, besides myself of course," he joked lightly, earning many chuckles from around the room.

"I know you shall already be wearing your dear mother's veil, but I wondered whether you would indulge me one last time and take this as well?" he asked, extending the box toward her. She took it and gasped to see the magnificent diamond and sapphire necklace that glinted back at her. She looked at Mr Bell in clean amazement.

"It was my mother's," he explained softly, "When it became apparent that she would bear no sister for me, she had hoped to see it go to the bride I would bring home, to wear at our wedding. Although I largely have no regrets about my secluded lifestyle, I did so hate leaving this magnificent thing to gather dust in its box. But have it you should, and let it be a thing of magnificence again," he urged, pressing it into her hands. Margaret took it and took a moment to admire it further. A string of sapphire and diamond clusters were linked in the middle by a large teardrop sapphire, framed by more small diamonds.

"Thankyou Mr Bell, I shall honour it always," she promised, small tears forming in her eyes. She handed the box to Dixon, who carried it away to be carefully packed as delicately as Margaret herself had carried Milton in all those months ago.

The following day brought multitudes of the merriment that Margaret had promised John in her letter. The party travelled to a smaller, more private beach nearby and enjoyed a grand picnic spread. The women, not afraid of being impolite in company, hitched up their skirts and went for a paddle in the waves while Fred stayed with Mr Bell on the sand and engaged him in a small glass of brandy. He even began to revive a little in the fresh coastal air, and some colour and animation was restored to his face. The illusion of his health returning was shattered a little when he was the first to return, citing his need to return to his hotel and rest. The rest of the party dutifully packed up to return with him, insisting that he should not travel alone. He bade them goodbye in the village, promising to meet them on the 10-o clock northbound train the following morning.

Everyone retired early after a light supper, tired from the days frivolities. Margaret and Edith lay on their beds, turned toward each other with the blankets pulled up to their chins.

"Margaret, I do not know if we shall have a chance again when we are in Milton, but there is something I should discuss with you," Edith began uneasily.

Sweet, innocent Margaret was instantly alarmed.

"Whatever about Edith? Are you not well, has something happened?" she asked frantically. Edith stretched her hand out, making shushing sounds.

"Do not fret dearest Migs! We are all well. No, what I must speak of pertains to your wedding and, well… what will come after".

The silence told her that her poor cousin still didn't have the slightest idea.

"It is about, what will happen on your wedding night… between you and . What you will do… together".

"Oh! What else could come after the wedding celebrations?"

Edith hesitated. The poor girl really didn't have a clue. She wondered if she was doing the right thing. Mr Thornton knew of her illness; he may not even want to make such demands of her. He may simply content himself to leave her snug in her bed and seek out one of Milton's brothels.

No, Edith thought. Better that she was armed with knowledge she possibly wouldn't need than walk into a marriage completely oblivious to what may be required of her in times to come. She steeled her resolve and sought Margaret out again.

"It concerns… what you should do together to conceive a child, or if not to beget a child, to give your husband his matrimonial… pleasure".

A quiet oh was all the reply she had. Nevertheless, she persisted.

"After the wedding, you may have a bed of your own, but sometimes, he may wish you to share his. He may… undress and do the same to you. Then… you lie together in the bed, and he will… join with you. He will join his… member, that is the thing underneath his trousers, to the place where you bleed from every month".

Every word was a struggle, but Edith was determined to give Margaret a more detailed explanation than the garbled nonsense she'd gotten from her own mother that left her more nervous than before their conversation.

Margaret, meanwhile, thanked God that Edith had initiated this conversation under cover of darkness, so that she could not see how red she had gone. Her face was so hot she was amazed the bedcovers had not ignited. However, only one question came to her.

"Does it hurt?"

"There will be a little pain the first time you join, yes. But so long as he is gentle, and you calm, the pain should not last for long".

"And Mr. Thornton will take pleasure from this?" Goodness knows she'd never heard anything that sounded so unappealing.

"Yes, he will. Maxwell always takes great pleasure from our… couplings. It can even be pleasurable for us ladies, if the men are gentle and attentive to us," Edith added, and was rewarded with a rather spluttering outburst from her cousin.

Margaret would later swear she'd spotted singe marks on her pillows the next morning.

A:N – So the gang are finally ready to head to Milton! We are so close! Thought I'd end with that little exchange as the thought of Margaret just silently begging her cousin to stop tickled me, I won't lie. I like the idea of Mr Bell gifting Margaret an heirloom of his own fitting, as it's not really shown in the books or adaptations whether he has wider family of his own. Margaret and Fred are really it for him.

I'm also making a solid recovery from my broken ankle. I'm now cast and crutch free, back at work and back to interviewing for a full-time job. Wish me luck!

I've also been putting visual guides for Margaret's wedding outfit together, I may post them on my Tumblr, with a picture of the necklace. It's the same username.

Keep safe, keep faith.

Sid x