Hello readers. Thank you so much for your reviews on the last chapter. I greatly appreciated all of them. I know a couple of you were a little surprised that Margaret would accept Mr Thornton's proposal without being in love with him. I have written her this way because when I read North and South, I always feel that although Margaret is strong and has a very deep sense of morality, she is also extremely naïve, sometimes judgemental and actually a little selfish. Although I love her as a character, I also find her naivety and judgement of others quite hypocritical. She is, of course, very young and so I easily forgive her, especially as she learns from her mistakes, but I do think she sometimes uses other people. I won't say any more than that as it will ruin the story but I wanted to explain some of my thoughts.
I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Thank you for reading, Elle x.
…
Margaret stared after Mr Thornton's form as he walked quickly away from Crampton. His shoulders slowly slumped just a little as his footfall disturbed the puddles of fallen rain, sending gleaming droplets skittering around his legs. As he reached the end of the street, he turned back to look towards the house rather than rounding the corner. Their eyes locked and Margaret took a sharp intake of breath. His expression was hard to read- his face impassive- but something about his eyes made her feel sad. And confused. Margaret did not see him turn back and walk out of sight. Instead, she jumped a little, startled as the front door passed close in front of her face, blocking him from her view as Dixon swiftly closed the door between them.
"It's far too cold in here to keep the door open, Miss." Clearly, Dixon had reached her capacity for polite hospitality for today. Margaret knew it must have nearly killed her to leave her and Mr Thornton alone and had no doubt she had been controlling the urge to burst in protect Margaret's dignity.
"Thank you, Dixon. I know that was not easy for you, but I appreciate it a great deal."
Dixon bolted the door and nodded at her, her face pitying but not unkind. She tried to usher her back into the sitting room, but Margaret could not wait to return to her own room and try to bring some clarity into her rather muddled thoughts and feelings about all that had transpired in the last two days.
"I fear I have rather over tired myself again, Dixon. I shall retire I think. I hope you do not mind me doing so at this early hour again?"
"No, Miss Margaret. I was worried you would, and I told Mr Thornton so. How like a tradesman to think he can refuse to leave without speaking to you! I would not have stood for it Miss."
Margaret felt uncomfortable at Dixon's words; an unpleasant protectiveness of the man who despite his hated, had proposed to appease her father, rose up inside her chest. Dixon's unreserved judgement reminded her too much of her own naive reaction to Mr Thornton trying to shake her hand- the instant rejection of something foreign to her, rather than realising he was only trying to make amends for his poor impression when she had seen him that day at the mill, striking a man weaker than him. She supposed that since she had just told the man she would marry him, it was probably a good thing that she didn't like the thought of Dixon criticising him, even if it wasn't a real marriage- it was ultimately an offer of friendship. After all, she had felt the same when Dixon had so verbally disapproved of Nicholas when she arrived at the house drunk. Still, Dixon could not be blamed for her judgement. In the south, no man would ask for a lady to be woken so he could offer his condolences. Henry Lennox would certainly not have done it. It was another foreign experience for her and she had not yet realised that it was not wrong. Just a different way of doing things.
As Margaret turned on her heel to make her way back to the solitude of her room, she realised that since Dixon and she would be leaving early in the morning, she should probably inform the older woman of the fact and of her upcoming marriage and imminent trip to Oxford.
Marriage.
She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Suddenly, the idea of marrying filled her with a debilitating fear. She wanted and needed to just face the music and tell Dixon all that had transpired between her and Mr Thornton but found that for some inexplicable reason the words would not come. Instead she stood, clutching the cold rail of the bannister leading upstairs. A veil of confusion seemed to fall in front of her eyes, blurring her vision as the magnitude of what she had done came crashing over her, nearly knocking her over.
She had known this morning as she had walked through the graveyard to see her mother that she was going to accept this man- that she wanted to stay in Milton and try and make a difference. Everything in her wanted to fight the indignity of having to marry a man she was not in love with to be able to remain close to her parents and the only true friends she had. She had also known that marrying a man she did not love here, seemed preferable to returning to the charade of London society balls, the parade of single ladies endlessly dancing and taking walks and waiting for a man to ask for their hand and the rules of the south that now seemed so silly to her. Margaret had not really considered what exactly marriage to Mr Thornton would entail, what his legal rights as her husband would be but now she realised she had been stupid not to think of that. Her mind had been too preoccupied with thoughts of how to get what she wanted, which she had realised almost immediately was to stay in Milton. Something about the town drew her to it and made her want to stay, even in spite of her hatred of the constant fog.
Oh, Margaret knew he would offer and that he was an honest man, who would protect her no matter what, even in the knowledge of her indifference. Of course, Henry was an honest man, and would protect her but it was different. Mr Thornton respected her. He knew she had lied about the station and his position as a magistrate required him to declare what he knew but he did not- even though he clearly hated what she had done and resented her for it, he had done it anyway and expected nothing in return. It would have been the perfect revenge for rejecting him but he did not take it, and Margaret knew he would not have even have considered it. And it was her father's dying wish. How could she refuse that, even if he had disguised it as the hope that she would have a choice?
Not once had she thought for the injustice of what she would be doing to Mr Thornton. No, she had not known that Mr Thornton would sacrifice himself, for that was what he had done. He had given up his chance of finding happiness with a woman who loved him back and instead settled for one who did not, whose reputation was declining at a rapid rate and who he had just promised he would expect nothing of- nothing more than she was willing to give and he must know that she would not be willing to give him his rights as a husband if she didn't have to. Guilt threatened to crush her then as she realised she had once again misjudged him and Margaret felt the sharp sting of tears piercing her eyes. Desperately she tried to keep them in, but the memory of the sadness behind those eyes as he looked at her shattered her resolve.
"Are you alright, Miss Margaret?" Dixon's tone was tender and laced with concern.
The tears were starting to blind her now and Margaret felt herself sliding down the wall to the floor, her hand still clutching the rail of the bannister. She nodded furiously, trying to regain control of herself but the tears would not stop coming now. Why did she never think things through properly until it was too late? Her relief at his more than generous offer and her desperation to have the whole discussion over and done with, had overridden her common sense completely.
By now Dixon had joined her on the floor and was muttering consoling sentiments to her as she patted her shoulder gingerly. It was funny really, she supposed. Before she had realised that she was going to accept his proposal and marry him, she had been worried he would hate her for what she was going to do. Now she knew he was going to hate her for what she had done. Why would he do that to himself? Her father would not have asked that of him so why would he make it appear as if he was proposing mere friendship from this union and nothing more? If she did not know his character so well, she might assume he was trying to trick her into marriage and then intending to break the agreed terms. He would not do that. Still, she needed to ask him why.
The mean and childish part of her mind told her that Mr Thornton was a grown man and far older than she and therefore it was his own folly to offer her something that could surely not be agreeable to him. She was unsure how but she would find a reason to be alone with him, but somehow, she would orchestrate it and she would demand to know why.
It was an effort to stand, but Margaret forced herself, wiping her wet eyes and now streaming nose on the sleeve of her dress in a most unladylike manner.
"Here, Miss." Dixon handed her something small a white- a handkerchief and Margaret took it impassively, pausing when her thumb brushed over the small bumps of cotton stitching. The dark lines of the JT emblem stood out stark against the pure white if the square and for a moment all thought of the events of the evening left her mind as she wondered where the article had come from.
"It was in your coat pocket, Miss Margaret, so I washed and pressed it." Of course. JT must stand for John Thornton. Mr Thornton had given it to her earlier in his office and she had not returned it. For some reason, the iron fist again tightened its hold over her heart at the memory of being comforted by him in his office before she had pushed him away. Rather than using it for its intended purpose, Margaret folded the handkerchief and placed it inside her pocket, thanking Dixon and moving to make her way up the stairs once more.
"Dixon? She called when she had reached the top. "I intend to travel to Oxford tomorrow to persuade Mr Bell to move my father's funeral from Oxford to Milton so he can rest with my mother. Mr Thornton will be our male escort and I will need you to come with me."
Dixon's mouth flew open at her words but she did not instantly refuse.
"Please, Dixon?" She could hear the desperation in her voice but she did not know what she would do if the maid refused.
Slowly the mouth closed and lips pursed.
"Is that why you needed to speak to Mr Thornton tonight, Miss?"
Now the moment was here she couldn't tell the maid she had agreed to marry him. She just couldn't do it. It would be so much easier to just agree and besides, no matter how defiant she felt that if Mr Thornton was to be miserable then it was his own fault, her conscience told her that she should at least give him the chance to take it back and marry her in the traditional sense of the word.
"Yes, that's why." She answered, avoiding meeting Dixon gaze for fear she would instantly realise it was a lie.
"Well, I will be pleased to get out of Milton for a few days…" the woman trailed off, pensively. "What time shall I be ready, Miss?"
"7am, Dixon. Mr Thornton will come for us then." Dixon nodded, resigned and looked at her pityingly once more. She seemed to be debating something before quickly she pulled a letter from her pocket and ascending the stairs to hand it to Margaret.
"A letter came for you earlier, Miss Margaret. I didn't think it was the time to give it to you as you needed your rest. I do hope it is from your Aunt Shaw, telling you when we will be returning to London! How pleased we will be to get out of this dreadful place for good!"
"Oh, I don't know. I think I may be becoming accustomed to the ways of the North." Margaret took the letter, testing the waters in anticipation of tomorrow when she would most likely tell the maid and feel the wrath of her storm. Would he tell his mother tonight as she had asked if he could? The thought made her shiver. Dixon's distain would be nothing compared to the reception she would likely get from Mrs Thornton, when she found out the news. Would he tell her the truth? The truth of what their Marriage would be? Margaret feared that would be even worse than her thinking Miss Hale had changed her mind about her son.
Dixon regarded her as if she had gone mad but did not respond, simply wishing her goodnight and headed towards her bedroom down the corridor, to pack no doubt.
Her room was fully encased in darkness now and the cold had returned. Hurriedly, Margaret lit a candle and changed into her night dress, relieved that she did not need to call Dixon again to untie her.
With the letter clutched in hand, she climbed into bed and pulled the blankets up to her shoulders. Wearily, she regarded it for a moment. Letters had caused her so much grief and pain in the last two days that she felt a sense of trepidation opening this one. Sighing, she pulled the letter open and began to read.
Dearest Margaret,
I do hope you are keeping well in the wake of so much tribulation, my dear! Kind Mr Bell has written to me to inform me of your father's passing. How dreadful for you to be alone in 'The North' of all places! Of course, I fully intend to come and collect you and bring you safely back to London as soon as possible, Margaret.
Despite the sad circumstances, Edith will be so pleased to hear that when she and Captain visit with their darling boy Sholto in a few months' time, that you will be here with us. I have taken the liberty of informing Henry Lennox of your situation. He has always been very fond of you and was aggrieved to think of you all alone in Milton. He will accompany me when I come to return you to London and is most excited to have your company again soon.
Unfortunately, I have a prior engagement in Bath this weekend with Lady Ashbury, which I simply cannot miss, but I will head to Milton from there. I expect to be with you on either Tuesday or Wednesday.
Be strong my dear. I will be with you soon.
Much love,
Aunt Shaw.
Henry. What would he think about her marrying a tradesman? The thought of seeing him again filled her with dread. She had not seen him since he had turned up at Milton and proposed to her without warning. Now it seemed her Aunt was already on a quest to thrust them together once again.
Margaret supposed at least it was handy that her Aunt had an engagement in Bath. She would have time to do what she needed to in Oxford and return before giving her aunt the news of her engagement. She knew her Aunt would try to dissuade her but she had made her decision- no matter what, promise of purely friendship or not, she was marrying Mr Thornton.
Her mind settled, she lay down, her hand clutching the soft cotton of the handkerchief. There was something comforting about stroking the bumps of the letters but soon she drifted into a fitful sleep, filled with the shrieking voice of Mrs Thornton as her son told her he would be marrying 'that woman'. Again, she found herself in the forest of Helstone, running as fast as she could, but this time away from a different black figure, secure in the knowledge that she would be caught- it was only a matter of when.
…
The station was crowded, despite it still being early in the morning and Margaret had been jostled by porters or other passengers and they rushed to get baggage or themselves onto the train. Smoke from the engine rose up into the air creating an imposing barrier between them and the train.
Outside it had been a cold morning but clear, and the cold air had filtered through into the station, the only heat being the warmth of the engine. Margaret shivered, her hands nestling deeper into the depths of her pockets, her hand still caressing Mr Thornton's handkerchief. She fully intended to return it as soon as she had a moment free of Dixon but it appeared orchestrating such a moment was going to be near impossible. The maid had stuck to her side from the moment they had stepped out from the house in Crampton, sitting close by her side in the carriage ride. Uncomfortably close in fact, and when they had hit a pot hole in the road on the way, Margaret had nearly ended up in the woman's lap. Now Dixon's arm was firmly threaded through hers, the way her mother may have done, had they been closer.
The journey from Crampton had also been uncomfortable as Mr Thornton had barely spoken to either of the ladies, simply wishing them good morning and tipping his hat as Dixon had opened the door and commenting on the welcome absence of the rain. He had also stubbornly (in Margaret's view) avoided so much as looking at her, focussing instead on the roof of the carriage above Dixon's head, as if it was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. Margaret was not sure what she had expected from him when she saw him again, but it had been something other than his now usual coldness. After all, she had agreed to marry the man and surely that changed things? The least he could do was go through the motions of small talk with her.
Throughout the night, Margaret had woken on numerous occasions. She had contracted a chill, no doubt from her stint in the rain yesterday morning and each time she woke shivering, worry filled her mind as she imagined Mr Thornton referencing the marriage with Dixon. Yet, here in the light of day it appeared that was not likely to be a problem since he wasn't saying anything.
Now he strode in front of the women towards the back of the train, finally selecting a carriage and holding the door open for them. Margaret made a point of uncoupling herself from Dixon and allowing the older woman to go through first.
She moved to face Mr Thornton, hoping he would finally look at her but he did not, instead choosing to focus on the inside of the carriage, where Dixon was making quite a business of setting the luggage in the racks above the seats.
"I must speak with you-alone." She told him, also focussing on Dixon's movements inside the carriage to check she could not hear.
He nodded. She felt his gaze finally shift onto her for the first time that morning and was pleased that Dixon had managed to clean, dry and press a black dress for her to wear today so he could not judge her for her lack of mourning clothes again. They were stood close together and it was difficult for Margaret to look up at him, her head only reaching his chest. At a loss, she looked down to find he was offering her his hand to help her onto the train.
Clearly, that was all the answer she was getting.
Gingerly, she took his hand and climbed up the step into the carriage. Momentarily, she debated sitting opposite Dixon in the hope that she may be able to easier speak to him but the thought of the scandalised reaction from Dixon and Mr Thornton made her decision for her and she took a seat besides Dixon. As predicted, when Mr Thornton joined them he took the seat opposite Margaret.
Now that he had looked at her once, he seemed to be unable to stop looking at her and Margaret was acutely aware that although he seemed to be preoccupied with finding the tickets from his pocket and looking out of the window to see if the guard was preparing to see the train off, every few minutes his eyes would flick to watch her and then to Dixon. No doubt he was plotting how to get rid of Dixon so they could talk as she had requested.
Dixon had taken to studying Mr Thornton, curiosity apparent on her face; Dixon was many things but subtle was not one of them. Margaret could tell she was fighting the urge to speak and Margaret internally giggled to herself at the effort it was taking her.
"It is most kind of you to accompany us to Oxford, Mr Thornton." Dixon, broke the settled silence, relief crossing her features.
"It is no problem." Mr Thornton replied, easily but Margaret was not fooled. For some reason he was still on edge. Surely that was proof that he was regretting his offer yesterday.
"How fortunate that you could make arrangements to cover the mill for the next two days." Dixon probed further and Margaret wondered if she suspected something more had transpired between She and Mr Thornton last night.
"Yes, isn't it."
"You must have put yourself to a lot of trouble to arrange this." It was a statement rather than a question but Margaret knew it was meant as the latter. Dixon eagerly leaned forward as if expecting some great revelation in response.
His response was slow and deliberate and not at all what either woman was expecting: "I would do anything I could to help a friend." His eyes bore into hers as he spoke the word 'friend' and Margaret's breath caught in her throat at the sincerity conveyed in his dark eyes. She had never thought much about his eyes before but now she felt as though she could drown in them, in the depth of the promise they conveyed and she realised that he knew her better than she had given him credit for. He must know she had doubts about his commitment to his promise to her and was reassuring her that he meant it. Her heart ached in response in a way she couldn't understand. Perhaps they could be friends- true friends and come to understand one another. Was that not a type of love? Not the sort that her parents had or Edit and Captain Lennox but friendship could be love too, could it not?
The sound of Dixon clearing her through brought both parties back to the present and Margaret felt her cheeks colour. Dixon's eyebrows were raised and the maid moved closer to her in a protecting manner, taking Margaret's hand in hers and squeezing it tightly. Margaret let her but turned away, desperately wishing her flushed cheeks would stop betraying her. A quick glace across the carriage gave her slight satisfaction as she saw Mr Thornton's cheeks were as flushed as hers.
Luckily, the guard's whistle sounded then and the train kicked into motion, ending the conversation and causing Dixon to drop Margaret's hand and give her a little more space.
The three settled into companionable silence, and Margaret focussed on the changing countryside around them. On either side, factories and smoke flashed by and were soon replaced by open countryside, the sort of wild open countryside that it was so easy to forget existed beyond the reach of the city. There was something hypnotic about sitting back to watch the scene and Margaret could feel the soft caress of sleep trying to take over her. She glanced tentatively at Dixon, hoping she would succumb to sleep's call but the maid's eyes were wide open and fixed on Mr Thornton, watching him like a hawk, whilst he seemed to be doing his best to pretend he had not noticed her scrutiny. Sighing, Margaret leaned back into the padding of the seat and allowed her eyes to close. She would not allow sleep to take her but since there seemed to be no chance of Dixon falling asleep long enough to accomplish her mission, she may as well relax a little.
At some point she must have slept as when she opened her eyes she was covered by something heavy, dark and warm. She opened her eyes, slowly, blinking slightly in the faint sunlight, now filtering through the windows of the train. Her eyes focussed in on the dark object in front of her and she realised her was being watched. Partly through embarrassment and partly because of the protestations of her eyes to the brightness, she shut them tightly again.
Someone near her shifted, making her skirts rustle slightly.
Margaret opened her eyes just a little, squinting through them at her companions. Mr Thornton was looking out the window at the countryside moving past and Dixon's eyes had closed. Margaret fully opened hers and watched. The man before her was looking more relaxed now, his cravat loosened just a little and his hair ruffled as if he had run his fingers through his hair over and over. Now that she really looked, she could see that he looked tired. Tired and sad. She supposed both were probably her fault.
A small but distinguishable snore came from Dixon's form beside her and Margaret sighed in relief. Finally!
"How long have I been asleep?" she asked quietly, still blinking in the light as her eyes adjusted to the change.
He looked at his pocket watch. "About three hours, Miss Hale."
Three hours? Had Dixon spent three hours glaring at her target? She would not put it past her. She hadn't meant for that to happen but she had slept better than she had since the news of her father's death had shattered her world.
Carefully, she lifted the cover from herself, realising for the first time that it was a coat, too large to be her own or Dixon's and shivered slightly as the cold air returned. Moving to the other side of the carriage to be closer to Mr Thornton; she offered him the coat as she did so but he did not move to take it.
"You are still cold, Miss Hale. Keep it."
It was a whispered command and Margaret wanted to protest but as she shivered again, she did not.
"How long do we have left?" She had no idea how long she had been asleep and felt a prickle of panic as she realised she would soon have to beg her godfather. She had no plan in the case of him refusing to change the funeral. She supposed she would simply have to implore Mr Thornton to help her achieve her goal but she would cross that bridge when it came to it.
Drawing the coat up around her, she moved closer towards him so that they might more easily talk. This would most likely be the only chance they had to do so without being overheard and there was much she needed to say. She debated how to start the conversation. Should she begin with some pleasantries before getting to the point?
As if reading her mind, he spoke: "You may just say what you need to, Miss Hale." His voice was deep and low so as not to wake Dixon. He leant slightly towards her but his gaze was lowered onto his large hands, which were clasped together in his lap. The image of his hands stroking her hair in his office the morning before filled her mind. As it had yesterday, the thought clouded her thoughts and made it difficult to concentrate. If he was to try and do it again, would she let him? His eyes glanced at her, as he wondered at his silence and she looked quickly away before he noticed the cause of her stare.
"I need to thank you for offering to marry me and for offering friendship yesterday, Mr Thornton…" she trailed off, thinking of how to phrase her next sentence.
Dixon snored slightly Margaret paused until she was sure her companion was not waking. Not taking any chances, she moved closer to him and lowered her voice still.
"but I also need to ask you why."
His head snapped round to face her. "Why what, Miss Hale?"
"Why would you do that to yourself?"
"Why do what to myself?" His reply was defensive but his confusion was clear as he scrutinised her face, making her blush.
Not allowing herself to be deterred, she replied: "Why subject yourself to a life time of friendship? Why deny yourself the opportunity to find a wife who will love and adore you and who you will love and adore?"
His eyes bore into hers and she was sure her cheeks were flushing again. Those eyes roamed her face and she was sure he had noticed her blush. Her breathing quickened and her heart had started beating so fast she was sure it was going to beat right out of her body. Now the time was here, she cowardly found herself desperately hoping he did not take back his offer of friendship. Last night she had thought she would still marry him if he demanded a real marriage, but now the time was here, she was beginning to regret mentioning it at all.
"Why did you say yes?" His question surprised her. She raised her eyebrows at his avoidance tactics. Her parents had always told her it was grammatically incorrect to answer a question with a question and it railed her that after talking about being truthful, he would not answer before she gave up some information herself. Breathing deeply, she decided to overlook it and answer him.
"Because I want to stay in Milton and be near my parents. I admire the work ethic of the people here and I believe the south and its sense of privilege would bore me after experiencing Milton. If I move back to London, I will find myself married to a man I do not love and who also does not respect my opinion as I believe you do and I want to help with the Mill as you suggested." She answered without pausing. It was the truth but not the full truth. "I will not be denying myself anything I want." She wasn't exactly sure what she meant by that but it was out before she could take it back. Her father's letter filled her mind but she omitted that part. Throughout her speech he had not allowed his eyes to break contact with hers and Margaret thought to herself that his mother was probably right when she had said that her son had plenty of ladies who wished to marry him. She could see how another sillier girl could fall in love with those eyes. There seemed to be a wealth of mystery hidden in their depths and she could not tell what he was thinking.
"You said you wanted us to be honest. Will you not be honest with me now? You could have found someone who loves you and who loves you back, why would you turn that down for friendship with me? Or if you felt you must make an offer to me again, why deny yourself traditional marriage you could demand once we married?"
He broke the look, his eyes returning to Dixon's sleeping form. Margaret could tell his mind was whirling but he had closed off from her again, the walls she thought she was braking as she told him why she said yet, were climbing once again. The seconds ticked by and still he did not speak but cautiously he moved closer still. Now they were sitting close enough that their clothes touched, though their skin did not. Regardless, Margaret could feel the heat from his body radiating up her own arm and her head began to feel cloudy. It was becoming too hot, which she supposed was natural since they were now in the south, where sunlight sometimes did make more of an appearance than it ever did in Milton. She waited expectantly, studying his face and he seemed to be battling with how to phrase whatever he was trying to say.
His response was quiet and self-conscious when it finally came.
"I think you know why, Margaret."
It was the first time he had ever used her Christian name and it felt too personal. It made her stomach twist in a way that was not completely uncomfortable but unnerved her immensely and she was glad he could not see her expression as she was sure it would display her discomfort. Of course, she knew when they married he would call her Margaret; he couldn't forever go on calling her Miss Hale, but it shocked her to hear it from him nonetheless.
But did she know why? He had cheated. She wouldn't have asked if she did! Despite his assumption, she wasn't sure that she understood at all, but she nodded anyway. She might be ignorant of what he meant but she could sense it would be cruel to ask again as it seemed to upset him so. Could he be referring to the letter from her father? Should she let on that she knew what her father had asked of him now? It was on the tip of her tongue but she did not give it sounds as Dixon stirred opposite, jerking awake comically and looking around confused. Margaret knew that she should move back to sit beside Dixon before she noticed her charge had moved but she did not. Something rooted her to the spot beside her other companion. Perhaps it was the urge to talk with him further but she did not want to move.
It did not take long for Dixon to notice her position and frown accusingly at Mr Thornton, her glare sharp enough to cut a diamond.
"I am sure you would be more comfortable on this side of the carriage, Miss Margaret." She patted the seat beside her as if Margaret was a child or a dog (she supposed in Dixon's eyes she probably still was a child) and gave her a pointed look.
"Thank you for your concern, Dixon but I am fine just where I am." Her reply was sweet and she pretended she had not noticed the maid's distain. Beside her the arm barely grazing hers twitched, not enough to see, but enough for Margaret to feel it hotter against her own arm through the layers of clothing.
Dixon's lips pursed but to her credit she made no further comment, refusing to look at the people opposite her and staring determinedly out the window. Margaret knew if she remained stubbornly refusing to engage with her companions, she would be asleep within a few minutes and so she waited.
Countryside drifted past, changing into town and finally stopping somewhere at a small station and finally Dixon's eyes closed. Margaret smiled a little at the sight. At least one thing in her life was still constant. He was waiting too, she realised, watching for when the coast would be clear. In the silence of the carriage all that could be heard was the steady sound of their breathing and the train clattering along its path.
It didn't take too long before Dixon's mouth dropped open and she began to snore. He waited barely a beat before he spoke.
"You didn't tell her." It wasn't really a question but she answered anyway.
"No." She paused. "Did you tell your mother?"
She knew he hadn't before he confirmed it.
"I thought you would change your mind." He was looking at her now and Margaret saw the same sadness she had seen as he had paused at the end of her street last night. Now she understood- he thought she had just accepted to get him to come with her to Oxford.
Anger rose up inside her and it was too late to stop herself from jumping from her seat and blurting out: "Do you really think so little of me, that you would believe I would not keep my word?" It had come out louder than expected and Dixon, shifted in her sleep. His coat had slipped from her to the floor and lay pooled at her feet, where he simply stared at it.
"No, Miss Hale." He whispered as soon as he was sure Dixon had not been woken.
Her annoyance only increased at the return to a formal address. Her Christian name had been just fine for him not half an hour ago.
"I had been sure once before that you would accept me and I had misjudged the situation. I feared I had taken advantage of a grieving girl and you would have come to your senses as soon as you realised what you would be missing out on love by marrying me." His voice had taken on a harsh edge instead of the soft self-consciousness from earlier.
"Please sit down, Miss Hale." His eyes flicked between her and Dixon and she conceded purely to avoid waking Dixon, picking up his coat and shoving it in his direction as she did so.
"Indeed, as soon as we boarded the train you said we needed to talk- what else was I supposed to think? You have turned down my friendship before, remember." The harshness was already slipping away and his voice had adopted a desperate edge. "I see now that I was wrong in that regard."
She didn't reply. Her mind wanted her to move back to beside Dixon out of spite and she had to clench her fists to keep herself rooted. She supposed she could not blame him really. She was not so proud as to deny her treatment of him following his first proposal was less than kind and he still did not know of her innocent connection to the incident at the station. He would be so much of a gentleman that he would insult her even in his attempt to be kind.
"It was clear since I arrived this morning that you had not told Dixon. Why?"
Margaret had been about to reply when the train jolted forward and Dixon again awoke, the glare instantly resuming its place.
"How long until Oxford, Mr Thornton?"
"I would guess about 20 minutes."
Dixon had not attempted to hide her annoyance and not did not try to hide her relief.
"Thank goodness. I suppose we will have to get used to travelling since we will be taking the train back to London imminently, when your dear Aunt Shaw comes to collect us, Miss Margaret."
Beside her Mr Thornton stiffened and Margaret bit her lip. Slowly, she took a deep breath and prepared herself for the war which was about to begin.
"Dixon, I won't be going back to London. You see, Mr Thornton and I are going to be married." He stiffened beside her. "I will be staying in Milton with my husband."
Dixon's face displayed a mixture of shock and incredulity. Indeed, the word 'husband' sounded odd to her own ears.
"No, Miss. You need not make any rash decisions. Your Aunt will arrive and take you to London and you can find a gentleman to marry there." Her voice was kind but firm and Margaret almost felt sorry for her.
"I have found a gentleman" she lingered over the word, hoping he understood that she was trying to make up for her judgemental words all that time ago "and my decision is not rash, Dixon. I thank you for your concern, but I will marry Mr Thornton."
Without any forethought and without any understanding of why she did it, Margaret found herself grabbing Mr Thornton's hand with her own and linking her fingers through his in his lap. She supposed subconsciously, she had realised it was the only way to make Dixon believe her story. That must be why she had done it, but to reassure him of the truth of her words and that she had not intended to take back her acceptance of his offer was why she gripped it tighter, and softly moved her thumb across his knuckles. The shock of her actions seemed to have done something funny to his breathing and he was staring at her with a look of such intensity that she started to panic. She had gone too far. Why couldn't they ever just talk without arguing and her doing something stupid?
"I will leave that to you and your Aunt then, Miss." It was cold and uncaring and Margaret knew she had hurt the closest thing she had to family in that moment once again. She hoped Dixon would let her make it up to her when she had accepted her decision.
To her relief, Dixon resumed her defiant silence and turned away from them to look out of the window at the fast approaching city (as Margaret had known she would) and Margaret released Mr Thornton's hand, the feel of his grip lingering on hers as she steadfastly refused to meet his gaze for the rest of the journey.