Chapter Eight: Margaret's Journal
After Henry left, Margaret had time on her hands. She enjoyed Mother Lennox's company, and they spent pleasant hours in the drawing room sipping tea and visiting.
Margaret had talked to Mother Lennox about her parents and how she had regretted living in London away from her parents in Helstone. Mrs. Lennox had known Margaret for the last five years, and she commended Margaret's parents for giving her the opportunities to be educated in London.
"My dear, if you had stayed in that little hamlet, just think of all of the experiences you would have missed. Your parents did not want you to be limited by the lack of opportunities to socialize and to come out into society. Once, you mother and I talked about it when they were in London to attend the engagement party for Edith and Maxwell. Do not regret making your parents happy, Margaret."
Mother Lennox reached over and patted Margaret's hand. "I have learned through the loss of dear ones in my own life, that grief is just love with no place to go. In order to move past mourning to memories, you must find a way to process your feelings."
For me, that rose garden you can see from your room was my outlet. I had the gardener prepare the soil and I chose the roses. He planted them, but I tended them. You see, the Colonel brought me roses often when we were courting and throughout our marriage."
Mother Lennox continued, "The garden gave me a way to work through my grief by creating something beautiful and meaningful. Whenever I tend the rose garden, I remember the love my husband and I shared, and those memories make me smile. When the roses are in bloom, I keep a vase filled with them in my bedroom. It gives me great comfort, Margaret."
Margaret liked what Henry's mother was trying to say about having some tangible way to process her grief so she could move on with her life.
After lunch, Margaret excused herself to write a letter to Mr. Thornton. She also had yet to reply to Nicholas and Mary as well. Margaret took out paper and began her letter to Nicholas and Mary. She told them how much she appreciated the drawings from the children and how she missed her visits to their home. She related all she had been doing in Scotland, and she included a small watercolor she had painted on Sunday afternoon after Henry left of the small lake on the property.
Next, she took out more paper to write to Mr. Thornton. She could not find the words she needed, so she sat it aside. Margaret thought of the wisdom of Mother Lennox's words, that grief is just love with no place to go. So, she took out the journal that Mr. Thornton had gifted her. She wrote in it the day she had received it, but had not read over her entry, so she opened the journal to read her own words. She had written about what she thought love meant. She felt anxious and afraid of disappointing Mr. Thornton, whom she had hurt so much already because she did not understand what she felt for him. He was so sure of how he felt about her and had been for a long time.
Margaret knew that she would not be able to sort out her feelings just yet, so she dated the new page, and began writing, not thinking, but just letting the words fill the page. This time, she did read it, and her words revealed she was grieving leaving Milton. Margaret had moved from Helstone to London, then to Milton, and now she was in Scotland before moving on to Spain. She felt a bit lost even though she had always lived with people who loved her.
Margaret felt like she was floating through life without a landing place. Milton and the tiny little home on Crampton Street had been home to her because that was the only place in the last several years that her family, including Fred, had been together. She let the tears flow and allowed herself to acknowledge the pain of it all.
Feeling better, Margaret began her letter again to Mr. Thornton.
Dear Mr. Thornton,
I hope my letter finds you well. I wanted to thank you for the beautiful journal. I am using it to help me understand my grief. Just today, I realized that I am not only grieving the death of my parents and Bessie, but I am grieving leaving Milton. When Mama was dying, and Fred came to see her, we all knew it was the last time we would ever be together. I miss that little house on Crampton, but it is a great comfort to have Dixon here with me. She is family to me.
It touched me deeply when she told me the many kind things you did for her after I left. Dixon and I both cried when she told me you took her to Mama's grave. She also told me you purchased all of Papa's books. I know it would have made Papa glad to know his books reside in your library now. Thank you, Mr. Thornton.
I am sure you are wondering how I feel about the second gift, your journal. It was very brave of you to share your most private thoughts with me. I have only read a few of our entries at this time. When I read them, it was as if I heard your voice reading them to me. I find comfort in holding your journal in my hand because it makes me feel that you are near. I will read more entries as I feel ready to. We have hurt each other, and it would help me to know you better to read your thoughts about our misunderstandings.
Lennox House is a beautiful estate, and the property is even more picturesque than the New Forest. I take long walks and spend time in the gardens. There is a beautiful chapel on the property, and it is a place of solace for me. Mother Lennox has been a great comfort to me, and Henry has been a very kind friend. He has returned to London now.
I think of you often, Margaret Hale
When Margaret was preparing for bed that night, she decided to read a bit more in John's journal. It was not painful to read his thoughts as she had anticipated. What she read was much of what she had experienced with him. He got nervous when he was around her, and his stomach felt tied in knots whenever she was near. His physical reactions to her vexed him, because they were foreign to him.
Margaret found his entries endearing. He was eleven years older than her, yet they were both equally inexperienced at romantic attachments. She discovered that his sister teased him about his attachment to her and it alarmed his mother. John wanted their support, but neither gave it.
When she could keep her eyes open no more, she placed the journals back in the drawer, and blew out the candle. When she slept that night, she dreamed of a tall and handsome dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes.
