Chapter Nine: London and Henry
Henry had been back in London only four days when he received a letter from his mother. He was glad to hear that Margaret seemed to be making progress in her grief but alarmed to learn that John had written to Miss Hale again. He knew of the first letter because it had arrived when he was still in Scotland, but from what his mother conveyed in her missive, Dixon must have brought another one with her.
Henry was frustrated. One of the skills needed to be a barrister is a keen sense of what is not directly said. A clever barrister makes inferences and analyzes the evidence accordingly. Henry thought about what he knew of Margaret and Thornton, and he inferred that John was making progress in his pursuit of Margaret. His mother had related that Margaret had replied to John's letters. His mother never interfered in her children's lives, and she allowed her children to conduct their lives as they say fit, but Henry was grateful she had relayed this information to him.
Then, his mother gave him advice, something she rarely did, "Henry, do not wait another day to let Margaret know of your love for her. Your rival is certainly not giving her time to grieve the way you have. Margaret has not spoken to me of his letters, but I sense there is something between the two of them. Do not delay, Henry, or you may concede the battle for Margaret's heart to your rival without intending to."
He got up and poured himself a brandy. He looked around his fashionable London apartment and the loneliness he felt for Margaret washed over him in waves. He had never held her, and he longed to know physical affection from her. The entire time he was in Scotland with Margaret, he had only touched her when he assisted her in and out of a carriage, the train or on the rowboat that magical afternoon out on the lake. He bitterly remembered that Thornton had Margaret on his arm in Oxford.
Henry reacted to Margaret as any man would to a beautiful woman. In fact, desire was the first indication that he was falling in love with Margaret. She was naïve and he was sure Margaret was quite innocent. He wondered what she felt in his presence. Did she feel her blood stir as he did? Did she miss him now as he did her? She had not given him any indication that she felt more for him than friendship, but he knew she felt a deep affection for him, and she trusted him.
He was a deeply passionate man, but he was polished and a gentleman, so he kept his emotions concealed. Margaret felt things deeply, and he had seen her fiery nature. It was one of the qualities he admired most about her. She needed a man with a passionate nature to match her own. He was that man, but she did not know that. How could she? He always appeared so in control around her.
Henry walked over to his writing desk and took out paper. He poured himself another brandy, took a sip, and began to write. Thornton was two letters ahead of him, and he needed to make Margaret understand that he wanted to marry her because he loved her and wanted her in every way.
My Beautiful Margaret,
I have missed you since I returned to London. I regretted leaving you, but I am not a man of leisure and must earn a living. I hope this letter finds you well and the pain you are feeling is beginning to lessen. I pray for God to wrap his healing arms of comfort around you, and to grant you peace. I wish I were there to walk with you to the chapel and to pray with you every day. Our shared faith is something that matters a great deal to me. I never feel God's presence closer to me than I do when I am in that chapel. My father built it for my mother the first year of their marriage.
Margaret, I need to speak my heart to you. When I asked for your hand, or rather tried to ask for your hand the first time, I loved you, and time has only made that love stronger. I feel all the things for you a man feels for a woman he wishes to take for a wife. I hope I have not offended you, but I want to make things clear. You are the most remarkable woman I know. I love your passionate spirit and your compassion for others. I know if I win your heart, we will have a marriage much like the one my parents had. The Lennox home will be a lively one and filled with great happiness. You would be an excellent mother, my dear. I have often thought that when I would see your loving care with our nephew, Sholto.
I have been taught to conceal my emotions, and to not let others see what I truly feel. As a barrister, it has served me well, but I know I must allow you to see who I am and to reveal what I feel in my heart for you if I am to ever earn your love. It is my desire to make you happy, to fill your days and nights with my love. You will never find anyone who loves you more passionately than I do.
You are my heart, Margaret.
I am forever yours, Henry
There. It was done. He had laid it all out for her and now, it was in her hands. He would mail the letter tomorrow and then wait for a response. It would be agonizing, but he had to be patient. He thought back to the missed opportunities with her while she was still in England. He should have written to parents and asked if he could visit her. He should have wooed her with flowers and tokens of his esteem for her.
Instead, he had only seen her once in the time she lived in Milton, and that was when she came for the Great Exhibition. He had been so happy to see her and had spent every moment he could at Harley Street. Still, he said or did nothing to show her that he loved her. He was such a fool!
Henry thought of his rival. Thornton was a good man, and Henry might have liked him if they were not competing for Margaret's hand.
Henry added another log to the fire and stared into the flames for a long time. He closed his eyes and thought of her. Margaret, beautiful and extraordinary Margaret.
