Hi readers,

Apologies for the longer wait. This is a rather long chapter to make up for it. This one is a bit of a filler chapter to be honest and there were a few things that I needed to tie up. Thank you for your lovely reviews and ideas. They always make my day so please do keep them coming- I love to hear your thoughts.

I hope you enjoy this chapter but let me know wither way.

Happy reading, Elle x.

…

John had thought it best to tell his mother before the funeral, lest she hear it from other sources. He had not made his way to Crampton since he had escorted the ladies home. He had wanted to- oh, how he had wanted to- see her again and bask in the warmth of that smile from the train, the one that made all the trials he knew were still to come, fade into insignificance and left him completely disarmed. Unfortunately, he was denied that pleasure as every waking moment had to be devoted to the mill and the continued recovery from the strike. He had intended to visit that evening and make arrangements for the funeral tomorrow, but Higgins had told him that when Miss Hale visited Mary that morning, she had been expecting the arrival of her Aunt and he had not wanted to intrude.

Since returning from Oxford, John had avoided his mother as much as possible, one positive of throwing himself into his work at the mill and being out until after dark. As he could have predicted, his two days had left him with a growing pile of work, despite Higgin's capable handling of business whilst he was gone. Sometimes as he passed her in the hallway and they exchanged the usual pleasantries; her eyes had lingered on his form for longer than usual and he had thought she must know he was hiding something. Of course, she would know; she knew him better than anyone and he was not in the habit of keeping things from her. No- she knew he was hiding something but she would not ask him. She knew he would tell her when he was ready and so she waited and he avoided.

It was late by the time he arrived back from the mill and darkness had descended over the courtyard, bringing with it a contented silence. She would be waiting for him in the sitting room as always- pretending to sew or read but in reality she would be waiting for him to tell her what had really taken him away from Milton. He had not told her about the passing of Mr Hale, for then, without a doubt, she would know whom had taken him away, if not where he had gone to or why. Despite her disapproval of the Hale family, she would want to attend Mr Hale's funeral and so it was only right that he tell her before the morning.

The house was silent when he walked through the door and bolted it shut behind him, hanging his coat and scarf on the old wooden coat stand. The warm flicker of a candle cast shadows on the wall behind him from where it could be seen through the open door to the sitting room and John braced himself, pausing to peer into the room before entering. As he had predicted, his mother was waiting for him, some knitting in her hands and her eyes trained on her work without looking up to greet him. It was not often that his mother knitted or performed other such crafting tasks so she must have expected to wait up for a long time before he returned.

"You're going to tire yourself out working such long hours, John." Still she continued with her ministrations, squinting as she counted stitches over the top of her spectacles. "It is not far off midnight and you left before five this morning."

He walked towards her. "It will not be forever, mother. We will recover from the strike." He sat on the couch beside her and rubbed his hands over his tired eyes, as he stifled a yawn with the other.

His mother sighed and counted her stitches one last time before placing the knitting on the side table next to her and shifting a little to face her son, bringing a hand to smooth his ruffled hair from where he had run his hand absentmindedly through it.

"Are you alright, John?" She asked tenderly, her hand coming to rest on his hunched shoulder.

"I am just tired, Mother."

She did not press him for a moment, letting a comfortable silence settle over the room except for the crackle of the fire.

His mind turned over how best to reveal the news to her. Deciding that there was no ideal way to say it he tentatively began: "Mother…"

"Just tell me John." Her face was guarded but not harsh and he released a large sigh before answering. He may as well just get on with telling her. She had probably guessed by now anyway.

"Earlier in the week, I made Miss Hale an offer of marriage and she has accepted me, Mother."

The woman's eyes widened a little and her lips pursed but she did not chastise him or insult Miss Hale as he had feared.

"What changed to make you wish to offer again?" Her voice had let a little of her displeasure through, but he could tell she was trying to remain impassive.

"Her Father died almost a week ago now, whilst he was visiting a dear friend in Oxford and his funeral will be held tomorrow. The news of his death prompted me to act."

She nodded, her eyes analysing his face closely, the faint hint of pity crossing her face as she took him in.

"And what of the gossip surrounding her. Will her lover not have her?"

He shook his head sadly. "I can only presume that it is not an option for her to marry him."

"So, she'll have you now she's got no-one else and her reputation is in decline, will she?" Her tone was not unkind but he could hear the prickle of resentment. John had known her reaction would be such, but it still hurt to hear her harsh words, especially since he knew there to be an element of truth to them.

"I know you do not think kindly of her, Mother, but I could not bear to see her leave Milton. I love her still more than ever. I did not tell you earlier of our engagement as I wished to make sure, Miss Hale would not change her mind…"

"Change her mind? Again? Oh John, she will not change her mind now that she has no-one left in the world!"

"She assures me that her wishes will not change but I can hardly believe that she will have me." It was the truth, self-doubt seeping into the crevasses of his mind.

"John, we've spoken of this before. You are entirely worthy of her, despite all her empty airs and graces. She is a silly little girl but perhaps now she has finally seen sense and realised your worth. If she has, then I am glad of it if it is what you want. Though you know I believe you could and should do better."

She gripped his shoulder tightly, before rising to her feet and putting out the fire. "Do not worry, John. I will not try to stop you. You must do what will make you happy and I will support you but do not ask me to like her."

"I only ask that you show her courtesy and respect her as my wife."

She did not verbally reply but instead nodded her assent and gave him a resigned smile, before bidding him good night and making her way upstairs.

"Mother?" He followed her into the hallway.

"Will you accompany me to the funeral tomorrow and try to make polite conversation with her family?"

She sighed in despair, her shoulders rising and falling in her exasperation. "I will, John, and we should invite them to dinner, so we might begin to make arrangements for the wedding. I trust you will both want the wedding to be as soon as possible?"

He nodded gratefully, understanding how difficult his mother would be finding the news.

"Then we will invite them to dinner following the funeral tomorrow or the day after if they wish to be alone as a family."

...

Margaret had flippantly described a walk to church similar to this, once before. At the time, she had purely mentioned it at all as a comment on how out of hand elaborate London weddings so often were- a result of being tired of the spectacle or exhibition her cousin's wedding planning had become. In the end, Edith's wedding had been beautiful- there was no doubt about that- but far too over the top for Margaret's own taste. She had only meant to express her wish for simplicity- she hadn't specifically been talking about her own wedding but Henry had misunderstood, confusing her meaningless comments and assuming she had been trying to insinuate her own wish for a wedding. The day was cold but bright and the sunlight hurt her eyes and Margaret felt that even the weather was against her, taunting her with sun on the day when she felt the most misery.

Now as she walked arm in arm with the same man-at her aunt's unrelenting insistence- Margaret could not help but think that everything was wrong. Her dress was the customary black, heavy, and on loan from Edith. The lace adorned skirt, fell beautifully to the ground, rippling at her feet as she walked but her corset was a little too tight (Edith's doing), meaning her steps were careful and considered so as to avoid constricting her chest further. It was a particular annoyance to her, as she wished to walk quickly to escape being alone with her current companion for any longer than strictly necessary.

Henry had again been in attendance as her family arrived at Crampton early that morning. To her dismay, Aunt Shaw had announced that she would not be joining Margaret as she had a head ache coming and was sure such an event would make it worse. Edith too would not be joining as she was also feeling a little under the weather and so Margaret was forced to be accompanied by Henry. She had hoped that Mr Thornton might have arrived to escort her, but he had not. Margaret supposed he had no right to think badly of him for this- they had made no arrangement so why would he? And no doubt his mother would have prevented him from such a thing in any case.

As they walked arm in arm, Margaret silently seethed, assured that there was nothing wrong with her aunt or cousin and the situation had been orchestrated by both so that she would be forced to spent time with Henry alone. Edith would not have thought of such a plan and would have been persuaded by Aunt Shaw to play along in the charade of illness. As it was, Henry had neither spoken to her or looked at her since they had left the house and she was glad of it.

Approaching the church, Margaret could see a small group of people gathered together outside. Quickly, she unhooked herself from Henry's arm and continued the short walk alone towards the waiting group. She had already been unfairly judged for harmless physical contact with a man and certainly did not care for it to happen again. Mrs Thornton and her son were on one side of the winding path and Nicholas and Mary on another. A couple of other men Margaret did not recognise were also in attendance, presumably students her father had taught. The small number should not have shocked her; her father did not know many people so of course she could not have expected many to attend and see him buried, but it shocked her nonetheless. Her heart ached at such a small gathering to pay their last respects to the man who had meant so much to her and a hint of resentment towards Edith and Aunt Shaw rippled through her, for their betrayal in leaving her alone with Henry who was not really even family.

"Is that him?" A voice came quiet and close to her ear, making her jump. Henry was gesturing in Mr Thornton's direction, whose back was facing her, and she nodded in response, moving a little further from her companion.

"You don't have to marry him, you know."

Margaret sighed. Part of her had suspected that he would try and speak with her on the subject again, but she had vehemently prayed that he would not. Her skin crawled a little at the implication of there being no other option than for her to marry.

"Henry, please don't. I told you yesterday, I have my own free will- I want to marry, Mr Thornton."

His expression showed disbelief even before his words did.

"We could be happy together, Margaret. We could easily rent rooms near Edith and my brother so you could be around your family..."

Margaret smiled kindly at him but it was a small smile that did not reach her eyes.

"Seeing more of Edith, Captain Lennox and Sholto would indeed make me happy to some extent, but that's not the same thing as you and I being happy together, is it?"

His expression changed to one of bafflement, as if she genuinely had no comprehension of what she meant.

"Please, Margaret..."

"Let us speak no more about it." She cut him off quickly, before he had chance to go any further, feeling instantly guilty when his cheeks coloured and he looked away. In an attempt to soften her words, she linked her arm back through his and together they crossed through the wooden gate at the church yard entrance and to join the congregation. It was good of Henry to come and escort her, after all, and she would likely have to spend time with him between now and after her wedding when her aunt and cousin would likely leave.

Mr Thornton was still facing away from her, talking to Higgins and Mary, as was his mother, though her lips were pursed and the frown dominating her features appeared to wish she was doing anything else. Mrs Thornton turned first, the frown deepening as her eyes swept over Margaret.

"Allow me to offer my condolences, Miss Hale." Her words appeared to be sincere but her usual harsh manner was present making the sentiment sound hostile. Margaret quickly thanked her nonetheless and tried to decipher from the woman's expression whether her son had informed her of the engagement. Her frown implied he had.

At his mother's words, Mr Thornton turned, a small smile crossing his face until his glance crossed Margaret's body to settle on her arm, loosely linked with Henry's. His eyes lingered there, clouding over and the smile dropped. As if burned, she unhooked herself from Henry and crossed the small path to his side.

"This is Henry Lennox, Mr Thornton. His brother is married to my cousin."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr Lennox."

Mr Thornton held out his hand to Henry, who shook it, mumbling, "likewise, Mr Thornton", scowling all the while at Margaret rather than giving his full attention to his acquaintance.

"How kind of you to walk, Miss Hale here, Mr Lennox." Mr Thornton commented in his blunt manner that Margaret had often mistaken for disapproval. Somehow in this situation, she suspected she may not be mistaking anything.

"Believe me, it was no hardship, Mr Thornton." Henry replied readily. "I had not seen Margaret since I stayed with her family in Helstone just before they moved here and I had certainly missed her company. I do hope that things between us will return to how they were before she left the south."

Mr Thornton's brow creased at that and Margaret squirmed uncomfortably under his penetrating gaze.

"I had thought Miss Hale moved from London, rather than Helstone?" He addressed Henry but was looking at her all the while.

"She did live in London for some time but moved back to Helstone to be with her parents once Edith was married to my brother and Margaret invited me to visit."

Henry had not said anything directly untrue but the implications of his words were deeper than the reality of which he spoke and she had the distinct impression that his reply was not meant to have an effect on Mr Thornton alone. She hadn't technically invited him, afterall. She had simply made the mistake of speaking a little too freely.

"It wasn't quite like that…" she began quietly, her countenance conveying her guilt.

Still, Mr Thornton could not be too annoyed at Henry since he could have accompanied her himself today if he hadn't stayed away since they returned.

"Shouldn't we be goin' in, Miss Margaret?" Nicholas asked. "The priest will be waitin'." He was right of course and Margaret nodded before leading the way into the small church, which was empty inside, save for Mr Bell and a man Margaret recognised as another of her father and Mr Bell's friends from their time at Oxford, who were both already seated towards the front. Both rose as Margaret reached the front of the church and Mr Bell hugged her as he had in Oxford, whilst she thanked him again for all he had done in moving the funeral to Milton.

"Margaret, we should take our seats. I believe we are ready to start." Henry spoke from behind her, his hand resting on her shoulder as he gently turned her towards him. Margaret had assumed she would have Aunt Shaw and Edith with her to sit with but since that was not meant to be, she supposed she would sit with Henry and Mr Bell who had sat together on the front row.

"Would you sit with me, Miss Hale?" a deep voice came from her other side and Margaret turned. Mr Thornton was towering over her, his arm held out to help her to her seat.

"I can manage, thank you Thornton." Henry replied, offering his own arm on the other side and Margaret flinched. Mr Thornton had not seen her in three days and now seemed to have remembered they were to be married and yet if she chose Henry he would see it as a personal triumph and license to try and bring up her arrangement with Mr Thornton again. Part of her wanted to ignore both proffered arms and be seated away from all of them, but, as she gazed between the two she knew who she must choose. Deliberately avoiding making eye contact with his mother, who she could sense staring at her, she took Mr Thornton's arm and sat beside him, his mother on his other side and Mr Bell quickly asked Henry to sit with him, and his companion. Realising that soon she would be sitting beside him once again in another church, in a very different type of ceremony. Margaret momentarily longed for that day if she could only avoid the pain of this one.

…

The service was short and soon they moved to the cemetery, where her father was to be lain to rest with her mother. As he was lowered into the ground and his grave dedicated, Margaret felt the stab of tears beginning to pierce her eyes. All morning she had been successfully keeping them at bay, but now, as the priest said his final words and Nicholas and Mary moved to leave, she could do nothing to stop their appearance as the sadness of the last few months cut through her heart. Her mother and father were both gone forever and she was alone. Yes- she physically had other people all around her, but she was still alone in the world. For the first time, she was thankful for such a small group being there to remember her father, so that she might escape the company of others more easily.

Last night Margaret had doubted herself- it was momentary and the result of her delayed grief, but she had doubted herself nonetheless. She had doubted that she was doing the right thing in staying in Milton. In London, she would have her aunt and cousin, something she would have been so happy to have not long ago but now she felt she did not belong with them and somehow, standing beside Mr Thornton she felt more of a sense of belonging than she had surrounded by her relatives. They seemed to exist in a different sphere and she found herself enjoying their company, certainly, but just a spectator, no longer fitting into their world. She wanted to believe that they were really ill, but her mind knew better. The betrayal of letting her go to her father's funeral alone, purely to try and influence her intentions was too much to bear and she missed her father more than ever, wishing he was there to comfort her as he had done at her mother's funeral, despite his own grief.

All of her effort was channelled into keeping her tears at bay and she barely registered Mr Bell giving her a consolatory pat on the shoulder and assuring her that although he needed to return to Oxford, he would write to her soon and reminding her to send him a wedding invitation. Henry's urgings to leave were unsuccessful also and eventually he disregarded his pursuit and returned to Crampton alone.

At some point, the others must have left too for when she looked up from the grave as the men had finished their work covering the coffin with soil, and left themselves. So, she found herself alone. Except for one person. One person who she did not have the courage to look at, afraid she would break the promise she had made less than a week ago to never let him see her cry again.

Now, she blinked in the brightness of the sunlight; her nose had started running and her vision became blurred and she knew she could not keep herself from freeing those tears any longer.

"Please, Mr Thornton. I don't want you to see me cry again." She choked desperately, bringing her small hands to her face to hide her tears from his view before they started their descent. Perhaps he would leave and she need not break her promise? No- he would not- it was a vain hope, and she knew it.

Instead, she felt the soft caress of two arms circling her, like they had done once before, as he pulled her into his embrace, his arms strong and leaving no room for resistance this time, in comparison to his previous hesitation and uncertainty. Desperation took over and she buried her face in his shirt gratefully, her head barely reaching his chin, which he lowered to rest on the top of her head, his chin a soft weight as it touched her scalp through the thickness of her simply pinned hair.

"I can see no such thing, Miss Hale." He whispered firmly, his chest vibrating as he did so and, with her face buried into his chest, she believed him.

Margaret finally stopped her efforts, opening the flood gates once and for all. How long she cried into the fabric of his shirt, she did not know but he did not attempt to stop her or move away. All the while he remained still, his hands resting on her back- not moving, except for the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek as she sobbed into the starched cotton. His fast but even heartbeat thundered in her ears, as if it were her own and it seemed to tell her she was not alone. Enveloped in his warm embrace, she could convince herself that once she was married to Mr Thornton, she would never be alone again and her doubts from last night melted away. She didn't want to be without him as an ally. Despite their arguing and his ability to see the negatives of her every move, his heartbeat reminded her that they were to be a team and her determination to tell him about Fred grew. He might not want to know but she would tell him anyway. When the time was right, she would make him listen.

She could not deny it, being so completely surrounded by him like this felt foreign, but she could understand why someone might wish to stand so scandalously. Of course, it was completely inappropriate, even her mother and father had never stood as she and Mr Thornton were, not in her recollection. Of course, they had held her as a child to comfort her but this was different. Comforting-yes- but something else lurked beneath.

Now that the overwhelming tide of grief had eased a little and her eyes had no more tears to cry, she knew she should pull away and return to Crampton but she did not, allowing herself a moment to breathe him in. It was sneaky of her, and wrong but surely as he was to be hers by law if nothing else, she should be allowed to do so? That same sandalwood and cotton smell emanated from his skin and suddenly she became very aware of how wet her tears had made his shirt. It was soaked and thinner beneath her skin as a result. She was sure her cheek could feel heat radiating from his body through the material, making her blush profusely and her gratefulness that he could not see her face heightened. At the realisation, her breathing seemed to catch in her throat as the intent in her actions changed and the heat in the cemetery rose. His embrace no longer felt comforting; it was not unpleasant and she certainly felt no wish to move away but something about it was definitely not comforting.

Her hands had thus far remained covering her face as she cried, but now she slowly moved them, no longer needing them there. She considered dropping them to her side, but that seemed wrong- they belonged somewhere else, yet she was afraid to put them where she knew they must go and yearned to place them.

Gathering her courage, she cautiously moved them to circle his body as he had done to her, her hands sliding beneath his jacket but over his shirt. He shivered as she touched him, moving her trembling hands across his smooth shirt to rest against his broad back and she felt him breathe in deeply, his breath jagged as he slowly let it out. Against her chest she felt his heartbeat race faster and in response, her own joining it as if it were led by his. As he softly kissed the top of her head, she struggled to breathe and those feelings of panic from Oxford began to return with a vengeance at the intimacy of their scandalous embrace. It had been a mistake; she wanted to step away and be free from this feeling and yet her body would not move, rooting her to the spot and making her tremble. Just a moment ago she had felt so safe and secure and now she felt fear- not that he would hurt her but of something else, something she could not decipher that had more to do with her than him. Rather than letting go she clutched him tighter, which only served to make her feel more at sea.

Before she could force herself to step away, the crunch of footsteps on gravel made her blood run cold and both she and Mr Thornton sprung away from each other as though two magnets repelled, only to see Ann Latimer and her father walking arm in arm towards them. Miss Latimer's face displayed a look of such thunder and her father's such shock that Margaret could not help but flinch.

"Thornton. I would not have expected to see you here alone with Miss Hale!" His tone was cold and seeping with judgement as he held his daughter's linked arm tighter.

"No, Mr Latimer, it is unusual but Miss Hale's father died last week and we have just seen him buried. Miss Hale was understandably most distressed and I have offered to walk her home." Mr Thornton's voice shook slightly but otherwise he appeared completely unfazed by the unfortunate intrusion.

Mr Latimer nodded at her. "I had heard. My condolences, Miss Hale."

She nodded her thanks and stared intently at the floor

"You may wish to be careful, Thornton. You will find other people less forgiving of your noble actions than I. People may misinterpret." He had returned his attentions to Mr Thornton and Margaret did not miss the thinly veiled threat and instantly felt guilt for her part in their indiscretion. If she wasn't still in shock and riddled with guilt for tarnishing the good reputation of Mr Thornton, Margaret may have responded in an impolite manner but her companion was more composed than she and spoke before she could do anything other than gape in annoyance.

"Thank you for your advice, Mr Latimer. Thankfully I have no interest in the gossiping fancies of others and neither does Miss Hale. Had you heard that we are to marry?" Miss Latimer gave a dramatic intake of breath at that and her face darkened further, shooting daggers at Margaret, though she remained civil, congratulating them at the encouragement of her father.

"I had not. Congratulations." His face suggested his words were not sincere but Margaret thanked him anyway.

"We should probably leave, Miss Hale. I fear the nice weather is not going to last much longer. Good day, Mr Latimer, Miss Latimer." He offered her his arm and waited for her to respond. Silently she took it and together they left the cemetery behind, not pausing to look behind them.

Margaret Hale reflected on her own idiocy as they walked. She had allowed herself to be seen in public in a compromising position for the second time and surely now her reputation really would be in tatters. How ironic that everyone had spent the last few days telling her that she did not have to marry Mr Thornton and now she suspected that even her aunt would make her as soon as she heard the gossip that would no doubt circulate! And the position she had been found in if anything would be judged as more intimate than the open armed embrace she had shared with Fred. It was more intimate. She was also in no doubt that Mrs Thornton would think it was entirely her fault when she heard.

He was troubled too, she could tell from the agitated arch in his eyebrows and the way he was nibbling his bottom lip as they walked: "I am sorry, Miss Hale. I take full responsibility for our unfortunate situation. Please forgive me."

For some reason that annoyed her more than if he had blamed just her for their current predicament. She was just as involved as he was, possibly more so as it was her reputation that would be ruined rather than his, since she was, according to his mother's words the day she had visited her following her mother's death, so lowly thought of anyway.

"Why have you not come to see me since we returned to Oxford?" It was off topic, blunt and rude but her still pounding heart needed to know. Their entwined stance a moment ago did not fit in with his apparent avoidance of her since Tuesday and yet he could not be ashamed of their engagement as he had so brazenly told Mr Latimer and Ann without a second thought. She could not understand his motives at all.

He stopped walking, his frown deepening and his voice took on a defensive edge.

"I am sorry, Miss Hale. I have been catching up on orders at the mill. The days out have put us a little behind. I did come to your house to escort you this morning…"

"When? Why would I have not have known?" Wanting to be able to see him fully when confronting him, she unhooked her arm from his. She had never been able to control her feelings when she was annoyed and her questions had come out as accusations.

To his credit, he had sounded sincere but it did not make sense. She would have been aware of him calling!

"Dixon said your family were all there and you have arranged to go with them- I had no idea it would be just Mr Lennox, I had thought I had heard your aunt…"

"But you did not insist on staying to see me?" 'as you did before' she wanted to add but did not, her voice already having risen above the necessary level.

"Miss Hale, must you constantly, try to see the worst of me in everything I do?" The words seemed to be ripped forth from him, his hands flailing in agitation. His question and raised voice caught her off guard. Never before had he shouted back. How dare he! She was doing no such thing! It was he that was doing that to her!

"I did not know whether you had told your family of me and our arrangement yet and didn't want to put you in a difficult situation. Besides, I am already taking you away from your family by keeping you in Milton with me, I could not justify stealing you from them then when you needed them most…"

Oh dear. She was still annoyed but thrown off a little- she had not thought about it like that. Signing, she felt a little of her anger leave her. Her temper really was a curse, constantly getting her into trouble and then leaving her to deal with the consequences. It seemed it was a flaw she would never master.

Calmer, she sulked, "I didn't choose to come with just him. We used to be friends and I didn't want to offend him by refusing. My aunt and Edith were so adamant that he escort me and I did not wish to make things more awkward between Henry and I than they were. I'd already told him about our engagement so I didn't think it would be a problem."

"I am not sure he sees it that way." It was instant and matter of fact, leaving her no space to try to argue. In honesty, she was unable to truthfully contradict him but also did not want to betray Henry by elaborating any further. She raised her chin a little defiantly, but nibbled her lip agitatedly, without reply.

"Is he one of the other men you spoke of when you said you had not learnt to refuse a man?" The silence that followed was expectant, and his tone of nonchalance had returned and Margaret rolled her eyes as she cringed. She should have known her words would come back to haunt her one day- they always did- and she blushed at being caught.

"He is the only man I spoke of."

His eyes analysed her face as if he could not quite believe her but he nodded anyway, before walking on.

She trailed a little behind, struggling to keep up as she winced with each step as her corset cut into her skin and she cursed Edith's admiration of a small waist. "Are you jealous, Mr Thornton?" Her eyebrow was raised in question and a slight tease to her voice.

"Do I have something to be jealous of, Miss Hale?" His was not teasing and the sincerity for some reason made him seem small and vulnerable, like a child, for all his height and imposing stature. In honesty, there had been moments when she had confided in Henry, particularly before Edith's wedding, but there was no love there. He respected her, of course, but he wanted to own her. No partnership was offered there-the very thing she had accused Mr Thornton of when he had proposed after the riot.

"If he had offered you what I have, would you have accepted?"

That pulled her from her thoughts made her pause. It was not a matter of not knowing how to answer. That was clear to her without thought. No- it was how sure she was of the answer that made her pause and ponder.

"No. I would never have accepted Henry."

"Why not?"

"He would never have considered offering what you have. That is the difference in your character."

For a long time, he still stared, scrutinising her face as if trying to decipher her meaning, before offering her his arm and leading her on in the direction of Crampton when she accepted. Silence settled uncomfortably between them and neither spoke until they reached the street of her house.

"My mother wishes to invite you and your family to dinner, if they are feeling up to it, of course." Somehow, she suspected they would be feeling quite well now they'd had a rest, and be pleased to join the Thornton's for dinner.

"You told her then."

"I did. She accepted it quite well."

Margaret pondered for a moment. "Did you disclose the nature of our marriage to your mother?" She would not blame him if he had but she wished the details could be kept between them, something they had that was not his mother's or anyone else's.

"No. Did you to Henry… And your family?"

"No, why should Henry need to know?" She had asked confused. He was not truly family so why should she have any cause to tell Henry of all people? What was his obsession with Henry? His relief was visible but illogical to her. She chose to ignore it: "I am glad you did not tell your mother. I feel that should remain between us. It is none of their business… none of them."

He breathed a noticeable sigh of relief and she was pleased she had chosen not to confide in Edith after all.

"I am so glad we agree on that. Can we agree to keep all matters of our marriage between us?"

"We can" she replied, a small smile creeping across her lips at his conspiratorial tone, despite her annoyance, as she realised this was possibly the first time they had truly agreed on anything. What great steps they were already taking to becoming friends.

"Do you think your Aunt and Edith might feel well enough to join my mother and I for dinner tonight? We should set a date for the wedding and fill in the relevant paper work to obtain a marriage licence. I do believe we may need to marry quickly before the gossips of Milton, including Fanny, get out of hand. I am sure Miss Latimer will not hold back the details and she and my sister are good friends, I believe." They had reached the steps to her house now and she stopped before them, turning to face him.

"They will make it."

Suddenly, the reality of imminently marrying Mr Thornton hit her and her stomach twisted in response at all that that entailed- a guaranteed ally but one who would legally possess her, even if he would not enforce his rights as a husband. In the short term she was not looking forward to being in close proximity to Mrs Thornton after such an emotionally draining morning but she supposed she had to at some point and it might help to keep herself busy and out of the house rather than surrounded by her parents' possessions. She paused on the step, one hand resting on the door knob.

"Shall I tell my mother to expect you at 6pm?"

"Yes. 6pm" she agreed. "My aunt is going to be difficult. I will have to try and persuade her I cannot be without you," she added thoughtfully.

He nodded slowly but did not comment or meet her gaze and Margaret could not tell what he was thinking.

"I would not have wanted to be without you today. Thank you. You have been a true friend."

He made a small sound as if he did not believe it in the back of his throat. "I have not, Miss Hale. I may have caused more trouble than good, I fear…" He trailed off and his brow creased with worry again as he stepped back. She wanted to say something else before he left, to thank him for staying with her and for walking her home but her stomach was filled with nerves as she realised they were truly alone in this street and the last time they had been alone they had ended up with their arms wrapped around each other in a most scandalous manner that was likely to come back to haunt them. Once they were married, who would know if they were to embrace like that in his home? The thought was both appealing yet more personal and terrifying than doing so in public view and her heart began to race faster at the thought.

"Well, I am glad of your actions regardless." She had whispered it, self-conscious as though this was the most she had ever revealed of herself to him. In an odd way, she felt as though she just had and the vulnerability made her heart thud louder.

The intensity she saw reflected in his eyes, made her forget to breathe for a moment, and her heart stopped completely when he stepped forward, closing the gap between them and raised a hand to her face, gently moving a strand of stray hair that had escaped from her hairpins in the wind. His eyes were scrutinising her lips which she licked self-consciously.

He wanted to kiss her. She did not know much about men but some instinctual knowledge told her he wanted to kiss her. What would she do if he did? Shamefully she allowed herself to acknowledge that she had no idea. Thankfully, he did not- perhaps he saw the fear in her eyes- and blinking several times, he stepped back instead.

"Forgive me, Miss Hale…" He muttered before turning from her and fleeing. Alone Margaret stood staring after him, her heart still thundering but allowing the flood of sadness from that morning to come flooding in.

…

As predicted, Edith and Aunt Shaw had pounced on the invitation once they had satisfied themselves by criticising the Thornton's thoughtlessness in inviting them to dinner on the day of the funeral, when they were enveloped by so much grief for their relation. Thankfully, dinner had been a fairly quiet affair with her aunt complimenting the food and house. Margaret was seated opposite Mr Thornton and she had spent the majority of the dinner trying to avoid looking at him, which wasn't hard as he was clearly trying to avoid looking at her.

Margaret was almost relieved when, as soon as talk turned to the wedding, Aunt Shaw's polite restraint had broken. Margaret could tell how much effort is was taking Mrs Thornton to be civil to Aunt Shaw and Edith from the start and feared it would not last forever. Henry had decided not to join them, much to Margaret's relief, for Aunt Shaw and Edith were a handful enough. Between her aunt's regular criticisms of every northernism she had been exposed to and Edith's half-whispered but easily discernible constant reference to Mr Thornton's height or appealingly troubled brow, Margaret did not have the energy to manage another person.

In fact, Aunt Shaw had not yet mentioned Henry and she wondered whether his return alone earlier had spoken enough on how successful that vein would be. He had not been at the house in Crampton when she had returned and she had not seen him since yet clearly it was too much to hope that she would agree to planning the wedding without resistance.

"All I ask is that Margaret return to London with us for a period of at least six months so she can be sure that she is making the right decision."

Margaret could not help but zone out during the conversation, exhaustion from the stress of the day beginning to take hold, but that caught her attention. She knew a hasty wedding might be looked down on but that was preferable to her by far than returning to London for six months. How was she to help with the mill and improving the conditions of the workers if she was to be away for so long!

"Aunt Shaw, I could not return with you for six months. Can you not see that it would upset me so to be away from here?" She knew she should have probably said it would upset her to be away from Mr Thornton but by the time she thought of it, it was too late.

Aunt Shaw was relentless: "You are too thin and too serious here, Margaret. No, the best course of action is for you to return with us and spend some time with Henry talking through your options."

She turned to Mr Thornton: "Henry was of great comfort to her for many years and if she did not feel so attached to her father's wishes to remain here, I believe she and Henry would be married."

Margaret saw the flash of pain in Mr Thornton's eyes, though he tried to avoid looking at her across the table. Aunt Shaw could be vindictive; she had seen enough evidence of that at her high society parties. Margaret knew her aunt had figured him out in an instant and could tell her efforts to have Henry play a prominent role at the funeral had been successful in making Mr Thornton doubt himself.

"If Margaret still wishes to marry your son in six months then so be it, but I am sure she will see all London has to offer her in potential suitors and all of this will be forgotten."

"London gentlemen really are very accomplished." Edith added, her innocent expression implying she valued her contribution to be a great help.

"My son is…" started Mrs Thornton, her polite shell beginning to crack open but she did not get any further. Her manner displayed no anger, purely cold superiority.

Margaret was too tired to take it any longer.

"Enough, Aunt Shaw!" She commanded, rising from her seat in her agitation, the scrape of her chair on the stone floor making everyone flinch. "I will not be returning to London and talking with Henry. I will be staying here and marrying Mr Thornton as soon as possible."

"Margaret, you are grieving and cannot…"

"Do not treat me like a child! I know what I want and what I want is not Henry. If I wanted Henry, I would have accepted him a year ago!"

"You refused Henry… a year ago" Edith's mouth hung open in shock as she started at her cousin incredulously.

Margaret circled the large table to stand beside Mr Thornton who was looking at her with nearly as much surprise as the rest of the group. She rested her hand tenderly on his shoulder.

"Can you not see that I cannot bear to be without him?" Her words echoed her concern earlier and felt empty. It wasn't a lie. Certainly, she didn't want to be parted from his respect and his allegiance but it was a line she had prepared.

"If you cannot support me in this, you are free to leave but I would appreciate having the only family I have left at my wedding."

Aunt Shaw sniffed, wounded and Edith dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "If you are sure, Margaret, but I fear you are making the same mistake as your mother."

"If she had not made that 'mistake' I would not be here Aunt Shaw and I am not making a mistake. Believe me, I have not made this decision lightly.

"I believe my son and Miss Hale wish to be married quickly Mrs Shaw. Let us just say that they are so in love that I think it would be prudent for them to do so."

"Oh, I see." Aunt Shaw paused, looking at Margaret in a scandalised manner and Margaret cringed, wondering what her aunt suspected her of doing. "Let us not delay then." She finally finished.

"Thank you, Aunt Shaw." Margaret sighed with relief and removed her hand from its resting position to return to her seat. In her passionate plea she had quite forgotten Mr Thornton was even there but now he took control, suggesting a date in couple of weeks' time and listing all that would need to be done.

Edith's happy demeanour had quickly been restored and was helpfully suggesting flower choices as Mr Thornton and his mother tactfully made all the appropriate expressions of thanks and awe at her knowledge of the available options.

"Why Margaret, we must choose your dress as soon as possible! They take ever so long to make. Will a dress from here do? I cannot believe them to be of the same quality as London!"

"There's no need for that Edith. I can just wear a dress I already have." Margaret sought to quickly put an end to her cousin's extravagant ideas.

"Margaret, of course you can't!" Edith exclaimed looking horrified. "Not on your wedding day!"

"It's true, Miss Hale that it would be better not to cause gossip by hinting that this is a rushed wedding." To her credit, Mrs Thornton had phrased it tactfully but Margaret understood the meaning clearly. He had told her about earlier. She had been caught in enough compromising positions, and implying that the wedding had been in the planning for longer would certainly not harm their own reputation.

"What do you think, Mr Thornton?" Aunt Shaw had asked, as though testing him to see if he would respond with the correct answer.

"I think Miss Hale, would look beautiful in anything but it would please me if she could choose a wedding dress for herself. Something new for the occasion as it is symbolic of a new start."

Aunt Shaw nodded approvingly, whilst turning to Margaret and adding, "You see?"

"However, Miss Hale has not often chosen to listen to my words before and I have no expectation for her to do so now." His slight smirk put her more at ease and she remembered all the times she had done the exact opposite of what he asked just to spite him.

Edith smiled at his joke, commenting that he knew her cousin so well but Margaret kept quiet. She was surprised how much she cared about him approving of how she looked and although daunted by the task of selecting a gown felt a small twinge of excitement at the thought.

"There is much else to do but no doubt Fanny will be more than happy to help with the arrangements, Miss Hale, if it is agreeable for me to ask her." Mrs Thornton asked, her, her polite air returned and Margaret thought how like his mother Mr Thornton was. Both could so easily switch between cold indifference and warm civility.

"Of course, Mrs Thornton!" pleased not to have to deal with so much herself.

"It is settled then." Stated Mrs Thornton. "I believe my son and Miss Hale have many formalities to discuss so let us adjourn to the couches beside the window so they can do so without disruption."

The three others rose and made their way to the other side of the room, Edith's excited voice carrying across to where they stayed at the table.

Mr Thornton did not speak at first and Margaret did not know what to say so remained silent as he found some paper work and searched for a pen.

"If you wish to go with your aunt for six months and make sure you are making the right decision, I shall understand." Instead of facing her, he continued to rummage for a pen and Margaret was a little hurt that he was not upset by the concept of her leaving for so long.

"I do not wish to." She did not feel the need to elaborate.

Finally, he found a pen and returned to his seat.

"Then, I need to know your date of birth for the marriage license." He asked, pen poised.

"It is October 10th." The scratch of nib against paper seemed to echo over the voices of the other occupants of the room.

"Year?"

"1840."

"You are nineteen?" His reply was quick and the inflection on 'nineteen' showed his surprise as his eyes darted to meet her own searchingly. Margaret bristled a little at his reaction, suddenly self-conscious. Had he thought she was younger or older?

"Well, I am nearly 20. Not that I see why it should matter…" She raised her chin, slightly ashamed to realise she was conveying the air of haughtiness, her brother had so often accused her of, but really she could not help it.

His eyes searched her over as if evaluating her truthfulness before composing himself and writing her answer into the space.

"It does not matter, Miss Hale." His reply was matter of fact. "I had merely assumed from the way you conduct yourself, that you were a little older than 19."

"Oh." Margaret did not know what to think of that, unsure whether he meant it as a compliment or an insult.

"What is your age?" She asked indignantly. In her haste, she had sounded like a child and sighed annoyed at herself.

"I am thirty-one."

"Thirty-one?" her own surprise was poorly masked and she felt a little guilty for her annoyance at his own reaction. It was not that she had thought that he was younger, more that she had not given any thought to his age at all. It did make sense that he was older as he had told her off the hardship he had suffered as a boy when his father died and Margaret felt foolish for not having thought of that earlier. No wonder he so often seemed to be judging her; perhaps he saw her as a silly little girl, twelve years younger than himself and full of stupid ideas. Surely, not though, when he had made such an effort of asking her for her opinions and offering her marriage as a way for her to help him with the mill?

"Does it matter?" he asked her softly and she could hear a rare prickle of insecurity there as he mirrored her words.

Margaret thought for a moment. "No. It does not matter at all." She answered.

He continued his writing, adding her parents' names and his own parents' names to the paper.

"Mr Thornton?"

"Yes, Miss Hale?"

The time had come. Finally, he would know that it was Fred who she had accompanied to the station that night, Fred who Leonards had briefly fought with and Fred who she was so desperate to protect that she had lied to the policeman.

"That night at the station…"

"Miss Hale, please don't…" He had sat up stiffly and seemed to be trying ot put as much distance between them whilst remaining in his seat.

"No, John, I will not let you stop me out of some unnecessary guilt on your part!"

Mr Thornton's mouth closed abruptly at her use of his Christian name as she had known it would.

"I am not telling you because I feel obligated- I am telling you because I want to and because I trust you. I trusted you before, but the secret was not mine to tell! Will you not hear me?"

"Yes, I will hear you." He answered and for a fleeting moment she thought she could see relief cross his brow.

"Margaret, I fear it has grown late and we must be leaving. You have sad such an upsetting day and we need to get you to bed now. Come." Aunt Shaw interrupted gathering her shawl and handing Margaret hers. What was Margaret to do? She could not tell him in front of her aunt.

"I need a minute more with Mr Thornton, Aunt Shaw." She begged, knowing it was pointless. If she could just tell him now, she could relax a little in the knowledge that they were to marry with his good opinion of her hopefully restored as much as it could be.

"No, Margaret, I must put my foot down. You are shattered. I can see it in your eyes- look, you can barely keep them open."

"Aunt, my eyes are fine."

"Margaret, mother is right, you look half asleep already. Let us leave now, we have much to talk about tonight!"

She could see Mr Thornton was disappointed but he did not move to contradict her aunt and Edith. "Never mind, Miss Hale. If you still wish to, you can tell me when we next meet. I promise you." He had risen to see them out and there was nothing she could do.

"When will I next see you?" She asked. Would he stay away from her so long again as he had done this week?

"I think it best if you do not see too much of each other before the wedding day." His mother answered instead. "We would not want to encourage too much gossip around the town."

"I fear my mother may have a point." Mr Thornton finally answered and Margaret nodded resigned.

"I will write to you with any needed details and will you write to me?" he asked, his eyes penetrating hers as they said their last words before his mother and her family.

"I will." She answered, assuredly.

"I will miss you." He added. It sounded like an afterthought and Margaret wondered whether it was for the benefit of her aunt than for her.

"And I you," she added, before turning and leaving with Aunt Shaw and Edith who thanked Mrs Thornton profusely.

As soon as the front door was safely closed the tirade of criticism began but Margaret did not listen, still pondering whether Mr Thornton had truly meant that he would miss her and whether she truly meant that she would miss him.