Chapter 19

Dixon awoke both Margaret and Edith the next morning with cups of tea and her usual brisk manner.

"Up young misses, up! You've to be dressed, hair fixed and have had breakfast within the next two hours, and I've the three of you ladies to help dress, goodness knows that won't be a small task," she puffed as she briskly fritted about the room, throwing open curtains and rearranging the day clothes Edith and Margaret had laid out the night before.

"Dear Dixon, I already told you, I would help Dolores dress today. Let me at least lighten the load for you!" Fred called out as he wandered past the ladies bedroom door. Margaret blushed yet again at her brother's implications and Edith stifled a fit of giggles. Dixon rolled her eyes.

"You mind Master Frederick, that you do a respectable job, I'll not be called in to fix your shoddy corset lacing. Lord knows there's enough to do, luggage to be checked and the pantry to empty, don't want anything going mouldy while we're away and stinking up the whole house!" Dixon began to mumble more to herself as she continued to bluster around. Edith laid a consoling hand on her arm.

"Do not worry Dixon, Margaret and I can help each other dress. You can go and check on things downstairs if you wish, we shall get along just fine!"

Dixon huffed a sigh of relief, and after a final urging that they hurry themselves along, departed the room. Margaret took a fortifying, if slightly unladylike and definitely burning, swig of tea before hurrying along to her wash bowl, which Dixon had filled when she entered the room. She diligently scrubbed her washcloth along her face, taking particular care to clean her neck and behind her ears, also going under her nails with a brush. She and Edith divested their nightgowns, and shrugged into their numerous underlayers, before taking turns to have their corsets tied, and pulling on their clothes. Margaret was wearing her preferred skirt and blouse, which as well as being more comfortable to travel in, was also easier to fasten when one was dressing without a servant. Having fastened her skirt, and checking her blouse was neatly tucked in, she turned to help Edith step into her day dress, before fastening the buttons. They then took turns at the vanity, each helping the other to pin their hair into a simple bun. Margaret was reminded of when they were girls together, helping each other to dress for balls and Aunt Shaw's many fine dinners. They then both turned to making their beds, folding their nightdresses and placing them into a chest that was to remain behind, having packed other ones in their trunks.

Margaret thought that they had achieved all that in rather record time, yet Dixon was still fussing that they were in danger of missing their coach, despite it not arriving for another hour and a half. They appeased her by hastening themselves to the small breakfast spread she had laid on.

"Best to fill yourselves up now Misses, there'll only be small lunch provisions on the train, and I'm not as sure what time dinner will be served tonight," Dixon implored them, while she inspected the cupboards for food that would need to be removed lest it spoil completely.

Dolores joined them a while later, her shawl draped artfully over the small but defined bump that was starting to appear. It was barely noticeable unless you knew what to look for. Dolores, however, had reached that odd stage of carrying a child where she could not be consoled or persuaded once she had set her mind to a certain opinion, and she was currently convinced she had swelled up to gargantuan proportions. Mercifully, the tender stomach that had afflicted her the past few weeks was abating, and she accepted a generous bowl of porridge from Dixon.

Fred came trudging down not too much later, gently placing the last of his and Dolores' luggage by the door. Finally, all four were seated to breakfast, and some time was passed in excited talk of the wedding and comparing books they would be reading on the train. Milton also came sauntering over, induced by the smell of milk and his adoptive mother's voice. However, he was scandalised that his hopes of some food and affection from his dear Mama were almost immediately squashed when he was instead scooped up and thrust into a wicker basket, the door unceremoniously slammed in his face when he spun around to attempt an escape. He begrudgingly accepted the scrap of kipper Margaret pushed through the gaps in the door to placate him, and his mutinous growling could still be heard when he was loaded onto the coach with the rest of the luggage.

Dixon was finally pulled away from the house, reassured that nothing had been left to fester and that no stray candles or fire embers would set the house to blaze while they were away. Fred diligently handed each lady up into the coach before almost springing up into his seat himself, and with a jolt of excitement in Margaret's belly, they were away. She could not help twisting around in her seat to cast one last wistful look at the house, although much more confident this time that she would at some point see Helstone again.

John was also caught up in a similar flurry of activity over in Milton. Margaret had secured the use of her former home in Crampton for her and her party to reside in before the wedding and he had valiantly offered his services to see to its readiness before her arrival. His own Marlborough house servants as well some extra hired hands had been deployed en masse to remove dust sheets, make beds, fill the cupboards, sweep and mop and all the other extensive tasks a house requires to be made habitable. However, the last couple of days had proved challenging, as maids came every day with some new complaint. Wooden furniture that had rotted, rusted doorknobs and other such little setbacks. All the necessary workmen had been summoned to answer these quibbles, and now John was inspecting the final results of their work. One of the watching workmen wondered that the mill master didn't just whip out a magnifying glass to help him along, so diligently was he squinting into every nook and cranny. Finally, John looked up, and extended his arm out to shake the young carpenter's hand.

"It is well done. My thanks lad," he spoke briefly and in his usual brisk business tones. The carpenter, who was married and with two young ones of his own, bristled a little to be called 'lad' by an unmarried man. However, he could not argue when this man's business ensured there'd be food on his children's plates for a month.

"Glad it's t' yer likin' Sir. You can settle th' bill over at' workshop later," he replied, doffing his cap and leaving through the open door. John followed not too long after, bidding his own servants to return to their duties at Marlborough house, as they would be hosting a welcome dinner for Margaret and her family.

He was watching the younger maids in front of him, ensuring there would be no dawdling. However, as they walked past a gaggle of Hamper's workers, on break, there was an outburst of heckling and jibing towards the girls that sounded vulgar to even John's ears. However, he'd spent more than a few dinners with Hamper and had heard enough of his opinions on women that he was hardly surprised the men he'd hired seemed to be of similar stock. John lengthened his stride to catch up to the girls and threw the men one of his famous glares, which was enough to quiet them at once, and even a couple developed a fervent interest in something that was occurring a few feet away. Inappropriate language was hardly a hanging crime, so John could not do much as a Magistrate. However, the girls were under his protection as his employees, and that was a duty he took as seriously as anything else. He saw them safely back to the house, and continued into the mill, to ensure that all was running smoothly there. He found nothing drastic demanding his attention, so took himself down to the storehouse where the bales of raw cotton first came in, before the mill turned them into bundles of beautiful material. Tossing bales into the carts to transport to the factory was an effective way to energize himself after too long hunched at his desk.

An hour or so later, John had worked up a refreshing sweat and was just about to lift another bale when he was interrupted by Higgins calling him.

"Maester, Mister Thornton, Sir!"

He leapt down from the platform, landing rather sprightly at the side of his unwitting favourite.

"What's the issue Higgins?"

"I've been sen' by your mother. She wants t' remind yer that Miss Margaret and 'er party will be at station soon, an' yer promised t' go an' meet 'em"

John glanced down at himself. Eager as he was to see his betrothed, the sight of him standing on the platform, dripping sweat and smelling worse than the Milton cesspits would probably send his beloved screaming back to Helstone. He high tailed it back to his house, racing past his mother without a greeting and calling for a washbowl, the shouted command making his mother roll her eyes and even huff an impatient sigh when he threw open the doors to his chambers, spotted the bowl she'd already had prepared for him and shouted out a sheepish "Thank you!"

Miss Hale could take her hair-brained son away today, with her blessing.

A record 15 minutes later, John was attired in a fresh shirt, waistcoat and cravat, and was fastening the buttons of his coat. He called a quick goodbye to his mother, who was overseeing servants set the dinner table, and was out the door. He stopped to hail two cabs, sending one on ahead to collect all the luggage and jumping into the other to go and meet his guests. It was a larger carriage and should comfortably seat the six of them.

They pulled in behind the designated luggage cab, and John stepped out, once again masked by his cool and collected Mill Master façade.

He strode up to the London platform, where trains from the city were due to arrive. His heart gave an excited little jolt when he heard the sounds of the engine begin to drift toward him, and then there it was. Preceded by the usual whirl of smoke and steam, the train was already slowing to halt, slowly trundling down the platform. It finally jolted to a halt and John heard the familiar bellow of the conductor.

"Outwood Milton, all passengers for Outwood Milton!"

At over six foot tall, John had often felt quite awkward and gangly, almost always being the tallest in any room he occupied. It had also made it notoriously difficult at more than one dinner party to conceal himself from the more determined society mamas and their eligible offspring. Here however, it gave him an undeniable advantage, as he scanned over the heads of the milling crowd with ease, to locate his guests. A little way down the platform, he finally spotted Fred handing the various ladies down from their compartment. Dolores looked over her husband's shoulder and spotted him almost immediately, alerting her party to his presence. His face broke into the easiest smile he'd given in a few days, and he went over to shake Fred's hand, although he felt the most rewarded for his efforts when he finally laid eyes on her.

Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks were pinked by the lively conversation and laughter in the carriage, and she had been plumped on Helstone's fine country air and Dixon's marvellous cooking. She had never looked lovelier, and his heart stopped when he was rewarded with one of her smiles. As her fiancé, it was only proper that he placed a small kiss on her gloved hand, and then tuck it into the crook of his elbow. He had one of his manservants oversee the porter with removing all the luggage to the cab and took his guests to their carriage. Mary was already waiting at Crampton to wait on Margaret, having completed her training under Jane and his mother's watchful eyes. He'd also spared one of his own kitchen hands to assist Dixon with meals for the two weeks they would be staying there.

"I'm glad to see you all arrived safely. The journey was not too taxing?" he asked Margaret, looking at her anxiously for signs of exertion. She merely smiled at him warmly.

"I am quite well John, we were all quite a merry party, we barely noticed how long the journey was," she replied cheerfully.

"I am so glad that you are all in high spirits. I hope my mother and I will be equally entertaining for you all tonight," he teased her.

"You will more likely be the calming influence we all need. Edith was quite carried away in her recollections of all her husbands' antics"

John chuckled and handed her into the carriage. The carriage would first take the whole party to Crampton, where everyone would get refreshed and settled.

The assembled Crampton servants ushered everyone inside, taking the travellers from London up to their chambers and ushering John to wait for them in the parlour, fetching him a small wine and laying a tea tray ready for everyone to re assemble.

To his surprise, Margaret was the first back to return from her ablutions, and he, perhaps too eagerly, seized on the opportunity for a few minutes alone with his intended. A hard stare was all it took to dismiss Mary, who muttered something to her mistress about "seeing to your lady cousin Miss" and disappeared. Margaret raised an eyebrow, having never approved of him playing on his famous temper to intimidate people. John shrugged, knowing she was also glad of the moments alone. So much communicated between them with mere stares and slight quirks of their faces. How well suited they would be together. She went to stand by the fireplace and admired a posy of flowers. He had arranged a little bunch of violets to be sent to the house, having listened a little too long to Fanny harp on about them representing faithfulness and devotion, among other things. He thought all the supposed superstitions about what flowers represented was a little silly, as he had just wanted to choose some pleasing flowers for his intended. Asking Fanny for help had been his first mistake. The second had been wanting to send her some orange lilies, as that was apparently a flower that indicated dislike. That had earned him a 5-minute lecture on the matter. He snapped out of his recollection, as Margaret was talking.

"I say Mr Thornton, this violet at the back looks to be a little taller than the rest, what say you?"

This was such an odd question that he was about to ask if she'd taken ill again on the journey. Luckily, to spare Margaret the shame of having a simpleton for a husband, he realised in time that she was grasping at an invitation to come and stand close to her. He positioned himself so that their shoulders were just grazing and bent down upon the premise of inspecting the flower.

"It does look an impressive specimen indeed Miss Hale, I hope they are too your liking?"

"They are exactly to my liking. I was also noting that the wood on this mantlepiece smells very fresh indeed. I hope you have not had to work too hard on the house for us?"

"It was in terrible shape Mi – Margaret. I couldn't justify letting you all stay here in the state it was in, no matter how short the duration was. At least the house will be fit for you to rent out to someone else when you no longer have need of it. As it was Mr Bell's property, it's now yours. You could have an income of your own"

"But as my-"

" I know the law says it would be mine, as your husband. I've no interest in dictating your spending. I know you well enough that you will not drain my coffers on every new fashion and trinket you see, no matter how my sister tries to turn your head. In any case, it's either a brave man, or a foolish one that would try to dictate the spending of a woman far wealthier than him in her own right, nor one with a very protective brother who knows his way around a bayonet. I intend to live to a very old age my dear," he delivered the last line with a wry smile, and Margaret knew she was being teased.

"It is fitting then, that that is also my intention, John. A long life with you sounds very fine indeed," she replied, taking his hands in hers. She looked a little hurt when he tugged one hand free, but the smile reappeared when he tucked that hand under her chin, inclining her head up with his thumb and index finger. He flicked his eyes down to her lips and back up, asking for her permission with little more than a look that she instantly understood. He felt the nod of assent she gave in the hand under her face, and he moved his closer.

Margaret felt a mix of emotions when their lips finally met. Edith had always sounded so dreamy when recalling her early courtship with the captain, Margaret was a little disappointed that she did not feel the heavens rumble to finally be kissing the man she loved. She also felt a great curiosity finally sated. Having grown up a pastor's daughter, she had seen many couples kiss at the altar after the exchanging of vows and had wondered what it felt like. She had always exchanged chaste kisses on the cheek with her family, of course, but knew that to kiss a man not related to her would be another feeling entirely.

She shushed all the different whirring thoughts in her head and focused on the feeling of John's lips against hers. On how wonderful it felt to be standing back in Milton, about to make it her home forever, kissing the man she would spend that forever with. She gripped the hand she was holding a little tighter, and he moved the hand from under her chin to cup her whole face. She felt his thumb stroking her forehead, and knew he was soothing the spot where the stone had struck her. There was only a tiny scar left as a monument to that dreadful day, and it was expertly covered by her hairline. She was about to open her mouth as an invitation to deepen the kiss when they were interrupted by a knock at the door. They broke apart, Margaret giggling when John shot an ugly glare at the door, cursing whoever had interrupted them.

She fanned her face slightly to attempt to lower the blush that was surely burning there, smoothed some runaway hair and went to answer the door. She recognised the girl standing there as one of the Marlborough Mill maids, who was holding a very familiar and very unimpressed looking cat.

"Milton!" Margaret gasped, holding her arms out for him at once. He curled into her exactly as a child might, yowling about some great injustice.

"I'm so sorry Miss. His basket was mixed up in some provisions that were to be brought to the mill house by mistake. One of our new girls let him out, thinking he were a gift for Mrs Watson. I realised he was meant to come here and chased after him, but he took off. Only just caught him before he got trampled by a cart," the girl explained, wringing her hands.

"My goodness! Thank you so much for your diligence. I will look after him now, you've done right to bring him here. Make sure you don't get yourself trampled getting home now," Margaret reassured the girl as she waved her off. She shushed the still yowling cat as she returned to where her fiancé still stood. She was a little nervous to find him glowering.

"Our privacy foiled by your cat. I hope this will not become a frequent occurrence Miss Hale," he implied sternly. Only a mischievous twinkle in his eye gave him away, and she cracked up laughing seconds before he did. Milton continued to protest, offended that his Mama did not find his near-death experience as frightening as he had.

It was this confusing mix of laughter and howling that everyone else came downstairs to, and it took some time for the betrothed to compose themselves.

"I think I am actually better off not knowing, shall we depart for dinner?" Fred hastily replied to his sister's attempts to explain. She chuckled some more before handing Milton off to Dixon, who was to remain in Crampton for the evening.

As the weather was fine and the distance short, everyone decided to walk to Marlborough mills, and John took his natural place at the head of the procession, Margaret firmly by his side.

Mrs Thornton greeted all her future in laws with every correct politeness. Margaret thought she looked a little stiff and irritated but understood immediately when Fanny and her husband appeared to greet them, having apparently already been there an hour. Far from the calming effect she had hoped for, both Fanny and Edith's giddy excitement about the wedding was combining and gaining momentum at an alarming rate. Fanny had not been able to exhaust her full list of plans on her own wedding and was eagerly embracing an outlet for some of the excess. Too eagerly, in John's opinion. But the alternative was hoping Fanny would save some of this exuberance for when her own sons were old enough to marry. They'd invent pictures that moved before Fanny could contain her energy for that long.

Margaret attempted valiantly to change the course of the conversation, making all the polite enquiries about the boys. The universe must surely be in disarray tonight, for even her beloved heirs could not distract Fanny from the excitement of her brother's upcoming nuptials, managing only a few minutes on the topic of her children before returning to some small wedding detail she had apparently forgotten to check over. Margaret eventually surrendered gracefully. Everyone was perfectly happy to be discussing the ceremony and all its trappings. Surely as long as there was harmony at the table, the subject did not matter.

After a fine dessert of strawberries and cream, Margaret knew it was time to hurry her party home to their beds when Edith and Dolores both fell about shrieking with laughter when Edith had been about to talk about Margaret's wedding dress before dramatically clapping her hands over her mouth with a fearful glance at John. There was a vein starting to throb in her mother in law's head that Margaret did not think she would want to see often. She thanked Hannah for the dinner, and Fred made sure everyone's coat was returned to the correct person. Margaret was wondering where her wrap had gotten to before she felt it being draped around her shoulders and her nose filled with the scent of smoke and soap. Fred smiled at the small intimacy before clearing his throat.

"My wife finds herself quite exhausted and my cousin is quite senseless on the excellent wine you have provided. I'll start herding them home, can I trust you to escort your betrothed, Mr. Thornton?"

"It will be my pleasure Fred," John replied. He was probably going to have walked her home regardless, Margaret thought, as he already had his coat and hat in hand. He donned both, then offered her his arm. She took it, and they bid his mother a final farewell.

They took a slower pace behind the rest of her family, listening to Edith's giggling grow fainter. They walked in companionable silence, exchanging an occasional comment about the dinner or the wedding before lapsing into silence. She started slightly when John abruptly stopped, and pulled her slightly to the side, just out of the glare of a streetlamp. He took her hands in his earnestly and bent his head slightly.

" I must be absolutely sure Miss Hale, that that cat of yours is not anywhere in sight?"

"He is still at Crampton I'm sure, safe with Di-"

His lips were on hers before she could finish.

A:N – Alright so it's been a hot year, sound off if you're still here. Between catching up on some post covid travelling and socialising and also spending the last few months working two jobs, five minutes of me time has been difficult to come by. I hope this is a satisfying filler chapter for you all, so that next chapter can finally focus on the wedding!

I based Margaret's reaction to her first kiss with John off my own beloved's reaction to ours. He confessed to me later on that rather than being swept up in the romance of our first kiss (also on a train station platform!) that he was just having mild heart failure the entire time, panicking that he wasn't doing it right, wondering if I could taste the cheese and onion pasty he'd just eaten and a lot of "So this is what it feels like!"

Milton's (mis)adventure was also based on a personal story. I moved house when I was seven and our beloved cats came with us. One of the poor girls ended up packed on the moving van and was luckily found early on when the van driver could hear her howling in the back. She was instantly upgraded to the front seat and was offended to her dying day that we found the whole thing hilarious after the initial panic, rather than grovelling at her feet.

Feel free to also shout me some useful sources for researching Victorian weddings so I can produce as time accurate a piece as possible.

Keep safe,

Sid x