Dear readers,
Another chapter! I am trying to make it up to you that I took so long for the last one by being at least a little quicker than my past record of taking over a year. :P I hope you are all staying safe, wherever you are. Much of this chapter is filler as the story is nearing its end, so I apologise if I have moved the action forward rather quickly. It's another long one. Please do continue to review, it makes my day to read your thoughts and opinions, both good and bad. Thank you to those of you who are still reading after all this time. It must be a good two years since this story started- probably more than that in fact.
I will try and update quickly again next time.
Happy reading,
Elle x
…
The first signs of spring trying to break through the March smog were a welcome good omen as John commenced his journey to London. He had hoped he might be able to sleep on the long train journey, but he had found it impossible to fully switch off from his thoughts. He had tried to be positive about his venture to the city, but he could not prevent his skepticism from telling him it was a fool's errand. Of course, he had been willing to try anything to save the mill and his family, but he failed to see why a rich gentleman would have the inclination to cast his lot with a failing manufacturer, such as himself. He had never doubted his ability to command a workforce but to endear himself to those who would see him as an inferior might well be beyond him. If he was honest with himself, John would have admitted that his negativity stemmed from how daunted he felt by his new task. He did not have the faintest idea how to go about such an undertaking and felt entirely reliant on his brother in law, a position he found to be quite uncomfortable.
It additionally did not help that his mind relentlessly returned to all that had happened during the previous night. Thankfully, no tears had materialized this time. He had tried to slow down, somewhat calmer now he had some experience of what her responses meant and had forced himself to pause and ask her whether she had wanted him to stop, feeling relieved when she had breathily asked him to keep going. Her small gasps had given him hope that she had felt at least some of what he had. Yet, he knew that would never be enough. For him it was not only physical. He had given her everything, including his heart, but he remained unclear what exactly she was giving him. Despite there no longer being a physical barrier, he could not deny the presence of a mental one.
In truth, he had not needed to leave on such an early train. Three trains departed from Outwood Station each day, the second being only a couple of hours after the train he now sat on, but he had been a coward. He had left so early because he was running away. John knew if the opportunity arose to repeat intimacies they had been falling into he would take them but also knew it would continue to throw him into a mental turmoil as he debated the ethical implications of doing so with someone who could not love him.
Thus, instead of making up for lost sleep, he had spent the long journey lamenting being away from Margaret and rehearsing what he would say to his wife's family when he arrived unannounced on their doorstep.
It was midafternoon by the time he reached Harley Street and stared up at a tall, wide, whitewashed house. It was the third house in a line of terraced houses with identical metal gates and separated by black painted metal railings. Its status as one of many connected houses was not entirely dissimilar to the layout of the many houses that lined the streets of Milton, beside the fact that it was as wide as at least two combined in his hometown, but that was where the similarities ended. These houses were far taller and separated from those facing them by a wide road. At the end of the long road, there was a square gated park filled with tall oak trees and benches occupied by laughing people, including women wearing the most extravagantly wide skirts he had ever seen. It seemed worlds away from the hustle and bustle of Milton. It even seemed worlds away from the smog and industry of the London he had seen when he disembarked the train, yet it could only have been ten miles away from the station. John could appreciate the attractiveness of the wide roads and open spaces. It was certainly not deserted, but did not have the crowded, bustling appearance of Milton and as John thought back to their trip to Oxford, he realised that must be a feature of the south.
The temptation of the green openness had proven too much, and for a while, John had sat on a wooden bench in the park and watched those around him carefully and wondered whether they could sense that he was not one of them- an intruder in their midst. He certainly felt like it, but perhaps that was just his own self-consciousness, for other than two gentleman who walked directly past his position and tipped their hats politely, no-one paid him any heed at all as he observed. He watched as a flustered nursemaid chased a small girl as she ran away from her, whilst her mother called her name distractedly and continued her conversation with another lady. A rather rotund older lady walked a small but extremely fluffy dog, who appeared to be terrified of everyone and trying to exit the park as soon as possible. Now he came to think of it. John could not recall the last time he had seen a dog other than a hunting dog in Milton, yet as he swept his eyes across the park, he could see that they were quite the fashion here. He had better not tell Fanny or he feared Watson might not thank him if their house was overrun by a small ball of fluff such as the one now straining away from a larger dog as they passed, as well as a baby.
How different the whole way of life was here that these people may find the time to engage in such pursuits. Now John could understand a little why Margaret may have found Milton so alien to her having come from such a place. No wonder she had missed home so and commented on the dirtiness of the north. Whilst he had been under no illusions about the purity of the air or cleanliness of the outside of the buildings in Milton, until this very moment John had not truly seen his surroundings in that way at all. Now, looking at the while painted houses and pristinely kept lawns and facades, he could finally understand his wife's reaction to her arrival in a norther industrial town better. Of course, London shared its fair share of industry but now he saw that it seemed another world from the London she would have known.
He did not know what time it was when he finally tired of watching other people going about their day and returned to the house, but the street seemed a little quieter and the wind a little colder. There was a chain hanging down besides the large black door with a crystalized class panel revealing a blurred look into a spacious hallway and when he pulled on it, a clear bell tinkled somewhere inside the house. A figure in black and white moved around on the inside, approaching the door and opening it.
"Can I help you, Sir?" A young girl in maid's clothes asked politely.
"Yes." He cleared his throat. "I am Mr Thornton. Mrs Shaw and Miss Lennox are expecting me at some point." He replied, suddenly doubtful that he should have turned up without writing ahead, despite Miss Lennox's assurance that it was fine not to confirm his arrival.
"Oh, yes. The mistress is expecting you. Come in." She stood back to allow him to enter and closed the door behind him.
The entrance hall was large, as he had expected, and several doors lead off it to other rooms. A staircase ran along one wall and curved into the middle of the hallway
"Who is it, Lily?" Asked a familiar voice asked from the depths of one of the adjacent rooms.
"Mr Thornton to see you and the mistress, Miss."
"Oh, Mr Thornton!" Edith exclaimed excitedly, rushing towards him, a little hindered by her changed shape. There was little doubt that she was with child now.
"I had no idea we would have the pleasure so soon." She smiled widely and gave him a graceful half-curtsey. "Is Margaret not with you?" She peered around him as though she might see his wife left outside on the other side of the glass paneled door.
"I am afraid not, Mrs Lennox. The mill could not spare her…" he explained, feeling guilt regrip him as he saw the disappointment in his sister-in-law's eyes. However, she quickly blinked it away and John's nervousness at being with Margaret's family without her prickled.
"Well, it cannot be helped. We are happy to have you here. Captain Lennox will be most pleased when he realises you have arrived! I believe he is quite keen to show off his manufacturer brother- in-law to some of his friends…"
John couldn't think of anything worse than being 'shown off' to a selection of gentlemen who probably considered themselves to be better than him, but he kept that thought to himself. He knew Edith and her husband had good intentions despite the very real possibility that he was going to paraded in the process of them enacting those good intentions.
She laughed lightly before brightly asking him whether he needed help to carry his bags upstairs to the room that was already prepared (he didn't) and motioned for him to follow her as she launched into a tour of the house, stopping her commentary only to leave room for him to express his appreciation of the decorating in each room.
He was informed several times as the finished with the tour of the sitting room, drawing room, dining room, 'sun room' (he wasn't entirely sure what the difference was between this room and the other sitting room but it appeared that Edith thought they were entirely different), and the library.
Finally, the downstairs tour was concluded, and they ascended the staircase. How different it was to his own wooden one. The whole flooring here was white and marbled with grey and this continued up to the higher floor. It reminded him of the flooring one might find in a bank or courthouse and he could not help but admire how grand it looked as it sparkled in the sunlight.
"Are you quite alright, Mr Thornton?" Edith asked, pausing in place and John nearly walked into her. She was studying him quizzically and he realised he must have neglected to respond appropriately to something.
"Yes, quite alright, thank you." He replied, trying to think about what he could have missed. Edith continued to watch him with an expression of bemusement and did not resume the journey to the upper floor. "I am just not sure that I have seen a marble staircase in a residential property before…" He explained, embarrassed to have been caught in the study of something so mundane.
"Oh, you still haven't…" Edith replied cheerily as though she though she had not noticed any of his self-consciousness and resumed her course, "…it is imitation. My mother's good friends, Lord and Lady Frobisher, have a residence three times the size of this house in Mayfair and they have a marble staircase, so, naturally, mother had to have one too."
An imitation? John resumed his study of the floor looking for any sign of its inauthenticity but perceived none.
"I would never have guessed."
Edith nodded, "It's a shame the real thing is so obscenely expensive, for the real material is even more grand, though I am glad that the imitation is doing its job so well…" she smiled widely and began to lead him along a long corridor with more traditional wooden flooring, covered by a burgundy rug.
Now he knew, he could see its inauthenticity and found himself wondering what else was not as it seemed here. He wondered what his mother would have thought about such a thing as imitation flooring. He suspected her opinion would not have been favorable.
"How is your mother?" He enquired as he was led to a door at the end of the hallway.
In truth, it was Mrs Shaw who he had dreaded facing alone the most. She had been most agreeable the last time he had seen her in his own home, but he could not allow himself to forget her reaction to finding out her niece was intending to marry him.
"She is very well, thank you. I believe she is having afternoon tea with some friends at present, but she will be here for dinner. She misses Margaret terribly, of course, as do I."
She came to a stop at a wooden door and opened it to reveal a handsomely decorated room and gestured for him to enter.
"I'll leave you to get settled. Dinner will be served at six thirty and I believe Henry and his wife will be joining us. You can of course join me in the sitting room, though you will not get a quiet moment as Sholto and his nanny will be arriving home at any moment! I shan't be offended if you chose to keep to your own company this afternoon."
John thanked her and although he liked his wife's cousin, was pleased to have time to be alone for at least a little while. It had been a blessing that Mrs Shaw had not been at home upon his arrival, for it gave him time to collect himself and think through a course of action for his time in London. Despite his heavy reliance on Captain Lennox, he did have some connections he had worked with over his time as a mill master and planned to pay them a visit to see if they too might have any viable options for him to seek out.
However, arrive home she did, and even from his room on the first floor, John was aware of her dismay at finding her niece had not arrived with her husband. He had not considered that travelling without Margaret could possibly be seen as inappropriate. Somehow, he suspected that the idea of her niece being left in charge of the mill was what the matriarch saw as inappropriate rather than him travelling alone, since Edith's own husband often travelled alone. Still, as soon as he descended the stairs and joined them in preparation for dinner, all sign of her disapproval had disappeared, and she had quickly fallen into her role as a diligent hostess.
Captain Lennox had shaken his hand firmly and proudly informed him that he had made several dinner arrangements with various acquaintances who had expressed an interest in 'dabbling with cotton'. John forced himself to push aside his wounded pride at hearing his industry reduced to dabbling and thanked him profusely.
The one person he had dreaded seeing again was Henry Lennox. He was not foolish enough to think that there would be any lingering competition between them as far as Margaret's affections were concerned, but he found it hard to believe that the pair of them would easily fall into being firm friends and he had prepared himself for an evening of barbed words. Yet, when Lennox arrived, he did not do so alone. He was accompanied by a large, kind-faced woman with blonde hair who was introduced as his wife. Had Margaret told him Lennox was to be married? He did not think so; he would have remembered that and would have been saved an afternoon of anxiety. Still, despite the frown and hostility directed towards him as he and Lennox greeted each other, he was able to bear it far more gracefully.
The man's wife must have noticed the look of thunder also, for she rested a hand on John's arm reassuringly and told him brightly, with no sign of annoyance or ill will, "you will have to forgive my husband, Mr Thornton. It appears he is still a little sore that you won the heart the woman he had once hoped to woo. He does so love to win." She laughed full heartedly. "I once beat him at a game of whist, and he sulked for several days…"
John was surprised to hear a wife speak so openly about her husband's previous affection for another woman and instantly liked her.
"I understand, Mrs Lennox." He nodded good naturedly, "I like to win also and count myself lucky every day but would argue that he won also when you agreed to marry him."
"Oh, I remind him of that every day!" She lightly swatted her husband on the arm and for the first time, Henry Lennox's frown relaxed and gave way to a half-smile.
"I had hoped I might have the opportunity of meeting your wife in person, but I hear she is not with you at this time?"
"I am afraid not. She is needed by so many at home and could not be spared unfortunately, but I know she would be disappointed not to meet you also."
The more he spoke to the new Mrs Lennox, the more he was convinced that she and Margaret would have become great friends, had she been able to accompany him. Thankfully, when it was time to eat, John had been seated between Edith and her mother with Henry and his wife across the table.
Conversation had flowed easily between his companions, but John had kept quiet unless personally addressed and thought of his wife and mother, and even Fanny, wishing he was with them. He could not specify what exactly it was that made him feel so out of place amongst these people, for he had been in large groups of mainly businessmen and suppliers he did not know well before, yet he felt it, nonetheless. Since he had no knowledge of any of those being spoken of, much to Margaret's aunt's chagrin, there was not much that he could add, and besides, the topics they dwelled on and the way if life they spoke of were so foreign to him that he could not add an opinion. He supposed he could have asked questions to learn more of the south, but fear of appearing foolish kept him silent.
"What exactly brings you to London, Thornton?" Henry asked him once they had been severed the main course, "And without Margaret? I am not sure I could leave my wife alone in a place like Milton."
John felt his skin prickle with irritation and irrational as it may have been, he suspected Lennox knew of his feelings of alienation, which had prompted him to indirectly point it out.
"I would rather not be without my wife no matter where she may be, but I do not have the power nor inclination to make my wife do anything she does not wish to do, as I am sure you well know, and she chose to stay at home."
Lennox's eyebrows raised and he responded rather haughtily, "I am surprised she did not wish to come with you! That is not the Margaret I knew."
John tried to temper his distain and regarded the man curiously. His countenance was not filled with the plotting hatred of the previous year when they had first met. Instead his face held the smug satisfaction of one intending to be an irritant rather than truly malicious.
"Really?" Although it took all his resolve, he made sure innocent surprise laced his tone. "Perhaps you did not know her at all." Without removing his eyes from Lennox's, John took a sip of his port.
"Oh, Henry! You are droll. What am I to do with you?" Eleanor Lennox rolled her eyes and chuckled at her husband.
"Henry is quite right…" Mrs Shaw interrupted. "Margaret, not wanting to visit her family? I cannot believe it!"
"Oh, she wanted to visit you all, of course. However, her sense of duty overrides everything. I am sure it became apparent to you often, Mrs Shaw?"
"Well, certainly that is true…" the woman conceded with a signal to a maid to refill her glass.
John smiled at her before turning from them towards Edith.
"I am told that you and Margaret were very close growing up, Mrs Lennox?" he asked her, hoping to change the course of the conversation.
Henry looked a little put out, but accepted defeat with a small pat to his wife's hand and engaged her and his brother in conversation, leaving John to speak with his sister-in-law uninterrupted.
"We were the very best of friends, Mr Thornton! We practically grew up as sisters…" she answered, her eyes shining.
"But what of Helstone? Why did she not live there with her parents?" This had confused him ever since Mr Hale's funeral, when Lennox had revealed that he had visited Margaret and her parents in Helstone.
"Oh, she did. She would come to London to live with us throughout the year and spend the summer in Helstone with her parents. Helstone is a beautiful little countryside town, l but it does not offer the vibrancy and societal connections of London."
"I see," he said nodding. "I could tell you were close friends. She has spoken of how she misses you often."
"Good!" Edith proclaimed, with a crystal-clear laugh. "I wouldn't do for her to adapt to life without me so easily. Not when we spent so much time bonding as we tried to escape Mamma's match making skills."
"She could have married a doctor if I had been allowed my way!" Mrs Shaw declared to her audience loudly. "Please, do not take this badly, Mr Thronton, but I was rather disappointed when my niece so brazenly announced she was to marry you, rather than coming home to her family. I feared her choice was clouded by grief…" she trailed off waiving her hand dismissively.
"Now you are here, can you see why we were so keen for her to properly consider her choice?" the portly woman asked, sipping some more of her sherry. "She grew up in this house, visiting others like it and learning to be a young lady. Certainly, she would not have mixed with people such as some of those at your wedding. The divide is great between the north and the south. There is much to be said for our southern gentility... Margaret is one of us."
Aunt Shaw's tone held an air of flippancy but beneath it there was a certain sharpness that riled John. All that she had not been able to say to him that evening in his own dining room as she had implored her niece to return to London for a period, came pouring out before coming to an abrupt stop. For a moment an uncomfortable hush settled, and every pair of eyes in the room turned to face John, who continued to flounder under the pressure to think of a polite reply.
Margaret had expressed the same sentiment to him in the past. She has seemed to view the north as a charred version of the south, and saw the differences as flaws, but so much had changed since then. He was annoyed by the implication that he had somehow taken Margaret from her natural habitat like an animal to cage her up in his home. It could have given him great satisfaction to announce that the very reason Margaret had married him was to escape a different cage, one very much rooted in London, but he did not.
"I do understand the appeals of London now, Mrs Shaw…" he began firmly, "but Margaret knows her own mind and I do not believe anyone has the power to keep her somewhere she does not wish to be. Perhaps she is no longer the same woman you once knew."
"I'm not sure she was one of us in that way, you know, Mamma."
John turned to the speaker in surprise.
"Edith!" bristled the woman, as though chastising a child.
"When Margaret told us of her wish to stay in Milton, I was shocked and frankly rather appalled that she should wish to remain in such a place rather than returning here with her family!"
She gave John an apologetic look.
"Now looking back, I suppose that I should not have been surprised in the slightest. Margaret never truly showed as much enthusiasm for the society here. She was a nightmare to persuade to come to balls. Can you not remember having to coax her downstairs for our Christmas party? As for courting the young men here… I don't believe she ever gave even one the time of day as anything other than a friend. Not that there weren't any interested…"
Edith laughed. Stopping abruptly as she caught sight of Henry Lennox frowning.
"…even though Margaret was so cold to them all."
"I do believe you are right, Edith!" Captain Lennox came to his wife's aid. "Can you remember at our wedding, when you tried so hard to make her dance with Lord Bingham's son and she kept running away as soon as he came near, claiming he was boring her to death because he wanted to extensively tell her about his hunting dogs…"
"Oh, yes!" Edith nodded enthusiastically.
"John, we are having dinner tomorrow with some wonderful gentlemen…" Captain Lennox seamlessly changed the subject and thankfully no-one brought up his wife again, though Mrs Lennox looked as though she might like to. Henry, for his part, had accepted being silenced gracefully and joined in with suggesting people who may have an interest in investing in cotton under the approving gaze on his wife.
Once dinner was finally concluded and he had escaped for the night, John was able to breathe a sigh of relief that the first hurdle was over. He had expected some sort of backlash over the circumstances relating to his marriage to Margaret but had not expected to find allies in Edith and Captain Lennox. He had also not expected Aunt Shaw's proclamation that she could have married Margaret off to a doctor to have hurt so much. A dark part of his mind told him that would have been a better outcome so that she would have been saved the pain and embarrassment of their current financial situation.
If only he could have luck on his side in finding investors, he might return to Milton at the end of the week. He had intended to write to Margaret that evening but tiredness from travel and the effort of dinner had prevented him and he had fallen into a fitful sleep as soon as his head had hit the pillow, filled with dreams of Margaret leaving him alone and destitute for a southern gentleman with his own doctor's practice.
…
Finally, more than a week after John had departed for London, he had written home. He had not intended to wait so long and felt guilt knowing that Margaret and his mother would be waiting to hear from him, but putting his thoughts into words had never been his strong suit and the changes in his relationship with his wife made him even more unsure how to go about such a task. Should he reference the night before his journey to London? Surely not, for his mother might wish to read his words and he didn't think Margaret would forgive him if his mother were to find out about what happened between them in private. He had been embarrassed enough when he had been forced to tell her what hadn't happened between them in private. It might put her into a difficult situation if his mother was to request to read his words. In the end, he had kept it simple:
Dear Margaret,
I hope you and Mother are well and not drowning under the responsibilities at home and at the mill. I am sorry I did not write as soon as I arrived but in truth it has taken me a while to find a spare moment to sit down to do so.
I have been in London for about a week now and your family are making me feel very much at home. Edith is sorely disappointed that you could not come with me, and repeatedly lamenting her inability to introduce you to Henry Lennox's wife, a Miss Eleanor Lennox nee Winton, as well as a Miss Annabel Parsons, a new acquaintance who she feels you would get on very agreeably with.
I don't believe you mentioned to me that Mr. Lennox had married? He and his wife came for dinner last week and Mrs Lennox expressed great disappointment at your absence. She seems a perfect match for Mr Lennox and truly a good person. I think you would very much like her.
Sholto is growing well and, as Edith is keen to remind me, is now, 'walking and talking proficiently'. Your cousin is positively glowing, and it would be very hard to miss that she is with child now. I believe your Aunt Shaw has purchased more baby related equipment than fifty babies could possibly need, despite already having plenty from when Sholto was born.
In truth, I have not seen too much of your family recently as I have spent the majority of my time seeking out connections. Captain Lennox's help has been invaluable, and I am hopeful that some of the introductions I have had may be promising.
I am meeting with a Colonel Wilson for a second time in a few evenings time to give him an overview of how the mill works and he certainly seems very interested.
Despite my lack of correspondence, I hope to hear from you soon.
Yours, John.
Thanks to his brother in law, John had very little spare time. The physical distance between John and his problems somehow made them seem smaller and in waking hours when he was thrown into various gatherings, meetings and leisure activities by his wife's family, he barely had time to think of home. However, that did not stop him from spending an inordinate amount of his evenings alone hoping to receive a reply and worrying about how things were going in Milton without him. It was not that he doubted the abilities of his staff, his mother or his wife, but it had been agreed that Margaret and his mother would tell the workers of the mill's likely closure and he could not help but worry about how that news would be received.
London society was a mystery to him still. After two full weeks spent there, John still had no idea how to appropriately navigate his business in the south. It seemed as though the people he was meeting with had no sense of time or deadlines and between each meeting to discuss the possibility of profitable investment, the gentlemen he was meeting were happy to leave a full week to consider their position. Very quickly it quickly became apparent to him that this would not be a short trip. There had been a few interested parties, but none had yet blossomed into a contractual arrangement. It also was a shame that their interest only extended to a nominal amount of money, which they expected to make large gains from and might force him to consider multiple investments.
At that point, he should have written to Mr Bell to inform him that his tenancy with the man would be ending but something (whether it was hope or pride he could not decipher) had stopped him. John had always found the man to be smug and self-satisfied and the idea of him knowing of his financial fall after numerous conversations where he had adamantly assured him that they would pull through was intolerable.
When a reply to his letter home finally arrived in Margaret's small but tidy cursive, John had tried to school his face so as not to show how eager he was to devour her words, but Edith's slight smirk as she handed him the envelope told him he had failed in that regard, and he had fled to his chamber to read the correspondence away from her knowing gaze.
Dear John,
I was so glad to receive your letter. I know it was silly to worry about something happening to you on the way to London- I am fully aware that you can take care of yourself, but I could not help but worry when we did not hear from you.
I am glad things have settled a little and you have some hope for investment. Captain Lennox is a good man and I am glad he is able to help you.
Did I not mention Henry was to marry? I did not know the event had actually happened, but I did know of their engagement. I suppose it just slipped my mind! His new wife sounds lovely and I have no doubt that I would love her.
All is well here. I do believe Fanny is going to cause your mother to suffer an aneurism, though. She is about halfway through carrying now and appears to be struggling with her condition. I do believe the task of choosing new gowns to accommodate her new shape has softened the hardship for Fanny, but not so much for Hannah who has been recruited to accompany her.
Do not worry about anything at the mill. Everything is running smoothly, and we have managed to see another order shipped out successfully I am told. Things are surprisingly harmonious in fact.
I miss you.
Yours, Margaret.
He felt a shameful ripple of pride in the knowledge that she had worried about his welfare and an even bigger one at the small display of vulnerability in the final two sentences. How he wished she could be with him, that he could draw her to him and envelop her in his arms and feel like she was his once again, but he would have to wait. In the daytime, he had some distractions but at night he only thought of her, wished he was with her and hoped she was thinking the same about him.
As for her blasé attitude to Henry Lennox, there was also something comforting in knowing she did not see his news as of note.
It was harder still to write when he longed to tell her everything, to tell her exactly how he missed her, his fears and worries and frustrations with the situation and how out of place he felt amongst people who did not understand him or his business but did not know how to express it. Thus, his response was short and not as personal as he might have wished but hoped it conveyed positivity towards the task at hand, rather than his misgivings.
As time passed their correspondences became shorter and less personal as they both became busier in their endeavors, though they still wrote weekly, each letter ending in 'yours, Margaret', which gave him a secret thrill and gave him something positive to consider as he sat through dinner after dinner with numerous tediously dull gentlemen who had more interest in boasting about their ability to invest in trade than actually doing it.
…
For such a busy city, it seemed to John that the people of London moved remarkably slowly. Finally, after he had been in London for twelve weeks, met with numerous people, many who expressed a wish in investing but were unable or unwilling to make any commitments to him and attended so many dinner parties with people who saw him as an interesting commodity, John had acquired enough investments to be able to pay off the bank for balance he had borrowed to update the looms. By his calculations, if the orders were paid on time, they would be able to pay the rent to Mr Bell until Christmas. In fact, as long as it was a better winter than last year, they might be able to salvage it. It was no miracle; the staff who had been let go would not be reinstated and the fires left unlit would remain so. The workers' kitchen was still out of the question as were any trips or purchases other than food and life would still be ridiculously hard, and he would be required to work at every moment. It would not allow for his wife's desire for children but at least the wait for them might not to have to be as many years as it would be with no investments.
The whole thing was a situation that did not sit well with him. The bank may be paid back but he would simply owe the money with interest to other parties, who would now have a say in how he ran the mill, which was rather unsettling. Numerous times he had debated whether this was the right course of action or whether it was better for him to cut his losses, lose the mill and begin again completely, but in truth both options came with risks, over which he would have very little control. He had remained in London even after the desired amount had been reached, eager to find a more favorable investor but he could not remain there forever. Whilst she had not explicitly mentioned any troubles at home, something in her tone had changed. A weariness seeped off the pages of her letters and John, who had already felt uneasy at having left his wife and mother alone in such circumstances, felt even more so.
With the help of a local lawyer the paperwork had been drawn and arrangements made for the men investing to come and visit the mill a few weeks' time before the money was needed to pay back the banks. All that was left was for John to return home and make the final decision to go ahead or walk away.
It was a relief to walk through the mill gates, late on a cool June evening in early June and know that he had achieved some tangible success, despite his misgivings.
As stepped into the house with his luggage, John found his sitting room occupied by Fanny and Watson, as well as his mother and Margaret.
His heart skipped a beat as his eyes settled on his wife, who was sat delicately beside his sister, dressed in an attractive shade of lilac. Her cheeks flushed prettily as she noticed him assessing her and she gave him a heartbreaking, if self-conscious smile, which made him momentarily stop breathing before his sister broke his line of sight by bustling over to him.
"John, you look awful!" Fanny proclaimed in dismay. "Could you not have bought some better clothes in London?"
John chuckled at his sister's blunt naivety. "Nice to see you too, Fanny," he said tiredly.
"Am I glowing, John?" She asked with a twirl, showing off her changed figure. "He is due to arrive in around seven weeks now!"
"Oh absolutely," He agreed, watching his sister smile happily, "pregnancy suits you."
"I cannot believe you did not guess until Watson told you!" She shrieked at him, as he entered the room. Begrudgingly, he shook Watson's hand, though he was still annoyed at the course the last conversation he had had with the man had taken and took a seat tentatively beside his wife. Beside him Margaret seemed to tense. She was chewing her lip agitatedly and suddenly Fanny and Watson became only irritants preventing him from seeking out the route of her discomfort.
"I cannot believe you kept it quiet for so long," he replied honestly to his sister, but with good nature as he tried to hide his wish for her and Watson to leave. "You must have been four months along before Watson told us?"
"Well, I wasn't sure for a while and after Doctor Donaldson had confirmed it, I had been very ill so had not been in the mood to see people…" Fanny explained at an impressive speed. "I really have had a difficult time of it, John…"
"Oh, Fanny, you have had it no worse than the majority of people!" Their mother declared coming to kiss him on the cheek and wish him a welcome home.
Fanny's mouth dropped open in shocked annoyance. "Well, it was quite awful at first…" She insisted, with an annoyed glance at her mother.
"How was London, John?" Watson asked, oblivious to his wife's attempt to enlist him to back up her assertions. "I don't suppose many southerners had any interest in our way of life?"
"You'd be surprised." He answered honestly, with a look at Margaret as the only southerner in the room, who floundered under his scrutiny. "The south has many differences, that much is true, and the attitudes and way of life in London, very different from our own. However, ultimately people are the same at their core, no matter where they are from." He left out that he found the majority of those he had met to be interested only for the purpose of establishing themselves to be superior to any form of trade.
"Did you find investors then?" Watson probed and John sighed wearily in his discomfort, not wishing to discuss his business with Watson at all, let alone before he had done so with his direct family.
"I had a successful trip…" he answered non-commitally, with a barely perceptible nod to his mother who had been watching carefully for his answer.
"Of course, if you had taken part in Watson's speculation, you would not have needed to look for charity from the south in the first place. He has raised more money than sense…" Fanny boasted with a sly look between him and their mother.
John tensed at the reference to the speculation and his heart plummeted at the reminder. How many times had he pondered on the same thought and kicked himself for his decision, even as he knew how badly it could have ended had Watson's fortune gone the other way? It plagued his dreams, and Fanny must know now of his failure at the mill and know how her words on charity would cut him.
"One thing you would understand about the south, had you been there Fanny, is that when it comes to trade, no gentleman or indeed woman would be willing to provide a true act of charity. Since I have moved here, I have come to realise that even when it had appeared to me that people had bestowed an act of charity, behind it was a transaction that had more benefit to the giver than the receiver." Margaret supplied firmly, bringing her had to rest tenderly atop his. Fanny recoiled just a little, though John suspected it was more from the reminder that she had still not achieved her wish of visiting London than anything else.
"Fanny, Mr Watson, do not feel I am trying to get rid of you but I suspect John is very tired from his trip and I am sure Margaret wishes to see her husband properly, whilst it is still a decent hour, so you must excuse them if they wish to retire." Though her words only spoke of Margaret and himself, his mother had risen as though to see the couple out and John conveniently found himself unable to suppress a yawn.
"Well, don't let us stop you from retiring, John…" Fanny began but, to John's relief, Watson was wise enough to be quick to rise and encourage his wife to follow him. He shook John's hand and welcomed him home once more before bidding his wife to bid her family goodnight, which she did dramatically looking a little annoyed at being ushered out prematurely, promising Margaret she would be sure to visit again before the baby's arrival.
The room fell silent, save for the muffled sound of his mother seeing Fanny and Watson out. There was an odd, expectant tension in the air and John swallowed loudly as he gazed at his wife properly for the first time in months. She was as beautiful as he remembered but looked tired and somehow softer. Her hair had lightened just a little in the June sun, giving the dark brown a caramel hint.
"We did not know to expect you today." Margaret spoke softly, her eyes trained on their still linked hands as his thumb slowly traced across her knuckles.
He had not written to tell them of his return. In truth, he had not realised he would be returning today until he found himself on a northbound train.
"I intended to return tomorrow but could not bear to be away from you any longer," he replied honestly, sinking back further into the cushions of the couch. For a moment, she watched him, some conflict passing across her face before she seemed to make a decision and brought her head to rest against his shoulder.
"I am glad you're home," she told him and John pressed a soft kiss to her head.
At that moment his mother re-entered, sighing deeply and muttering, "that girl!"
He expected Margaret to spring back from him before his mother could see her resting so closely against him, but she did not move.
"So… how was London?" The elder woman asked, curiously.
With a sigh, John explained the investments he had managed to procure and the accompanying risk. His mother missed nothing as usual and instantly remarked on the number of investors and the small amount invested by each party.
"Everything is set up, but we have until the end of the month to make a final decision…" he reassured her, knowing her misgivings would be the same as his own.
Margaret had remained oddly quiet throughout the entire exchange, neither commenting her opinion nor asking questions.
"What do you think, Margaret?" His mother must have noticed too, for it was she who asked his wife's opinion.
Slowly, she sat up and shifted slightly away from him, her eyes returning to the hands that twisted in her lap as they so often did when she was uncomfortable.
"I think this may be a decision only John can make, and I will support whatever he decides." She stated simply.
John stared at her blankly. That was not the Margaret he knew. When had she ever not offered an opinion on anything, let alone something so important?
"Thank you for your support, but I would appreciate to hear…" he began but did not get the opportunity to finish.
"Would you excuse me?" She asked quickly, not waiting for an answer and rushing from the room with a swish of skirts.
John watched her leave, baffled. Questioningly he turned to his mother who shrugged.
"Is there something wrong?" He asked, his tone conveying his confusion.
"Not that I know of, though she has been very quiet these past few weeks…" his mother admitted. "I never thought I would say it, but her help has been invaluable with you gone and I could not have managed alone without her. Even when she has seemed quiet, she has been unfailing in performing the duties she has assigned herself, so I am sure it is nothing to worry about." She tried to reassure him.
"I do think it has been very hard for her to know you were in the south with her family and she was here alone with only me. As I am sure you could guess, we are not necessarily thrilled to be in only each other's' presence."
"Mother…" he began, with a questioning look.
"Oh, John, we have been nothing but entirely civil to each other!" She shut down any notions he may have had of mistreatment towards his wife.
"In fact, there have even been times when I started to think I might, one day, like her just a little, so you can forget blaming me, John..."
"I didn't mean to… I just don't understand that reaction." He admitted at a loss. Perhaps he should have followed her, but it had seemed best to give her a moment's space.
"Remember, it has been months since you have seen each other." His mother reminded him. "It must seem a little odd to suddenly be reunited with someone with whom you should have a close relationship after not having one for some time. Be patient with her and I am sure whatever unsettled her will pass."
John did not think he would see the day when his mother would be fighting Margaret Hale's corner and gave an amused laugh. She was right of course. It was odd to have been away from her for so long and even he had been a little nervous to see her again, unsure how to act around her. The status of their relationship was ultimately still a mystery to him, so she must surely feel the same and be unsure what reply was expected of her. Still, he wished she might have spoken her mind. He would have to bring the matter up with her again after a week or so to settle back into normal life.
Reassured, he thanked his mother and bade her goodnight and went to seek out his wife.
She was in their bed chamber, sitting at the dressing table, using the mirror to comb through her long hair and already changed into a night gown. In the mirror he could see her eyes widened slightly as though startled by his presence, but she did not move from her place even as he closed the door behind him and began to remove his cravat.
The situation was somehow familiar and alien to him simultaneously.
"I am glad your trip was successful…" her tentative statement broke the silence, "and I hope Captain Lennox was helpful?"
He turned to find her still sat on the stool beside the dressing table, but she had swiveled to face him.
"Oh, he was invaluable." He reassured her with what he hoped was a comforting smile. "I would not have even known where to start without him."
She took a large intake of breath before releasing it in a hurry.
"I'm sorry, John," she said quickly, leaving him no time to ask her to clarify what exactly she was sorry for. "I didn't mean to sound disinterested in your investments or to suggest that I did not care about the decision you make. I am just tired…"
Now that he looked at her properly, he could see the toll of being left with such a burden in his absence had take on her. She did look tired and paler than he remembered.
"In truth, the long days at the mill are starting to get to me. We have been there since four this morning and did not leave until very late last night..." She looked a little ashamed at admitting such a thing and he understood why when she finished her confession: "don't tell your mother; she seems completely unaffected!"
He chuckled lightly. She would not show it, of course, but he was sure his mother must feel the same.
"My lips are sealed", he promised her.
She nodded with a peculiar expression and continued to brush out her hair. John watched her for a moment, catching her eye in the mirror and smiling self-consciously at being caught. Shyly, she smiled back, and he began to relax.
"I had hoped to find one investor..." he elaborated once he was sure that she was willing to speak to him, wanting her to understand and offer him some reassurance, "instead I have found many, each willing to offer smaller sums."
"Do you see that as a lesser result?" she asked curiously. "If the amount is the same, what difference does more than one investor make?"
He had her full attention now. The hairbrush was placed on the dressing table and she came to sit on the edge of the bed facing him.
"It is not as easily workable as it means there are multiple people who I need to please with how I run the mill and theoretically seek the approval of before making decisions I would otherwise just make of my own volition. It is not too difficult to please one person but five is far harder."
"I see. Do you think the investors would want to have much involvement?"
He thought for a moment about each of the individuals who had agreed to invest.
"In truth, I have no idea. Most have spoken as though they do have that wish with may asking to come and visit the mill before proceeding, so there is a chance they will or could change their mind once they see it"
He finished removing his clothing, threw on a night shirt and came to sit beside her.
"and there is also the pressure of paying them all back, rather than one source which is messier, I suppose?" She asked.
He nodded an affirmative.
"Of course, we know the alternative."
His wife stayed silent and he saw her eyes flicker with some hidden emotion towards her hands, which she twisted in her lap and he wished she would disclose what was going on in her mind.
"What do you think we should do?" He asked her encouragingly.
She sighed deeply, her eyes still trained on her hands and he could see the cogs of her cognizance turning over and over.
"I think you know what you feel is the right thing to do." She sighed. "You should do that."
Finally, she brought her eyes to meet his, her understanding evident. "Sometimes the easier route is not the one that feels right, is it?"
She knew. Of course, she knew of the unease he felt about the whole situation. On the one hand, the investors he had managed to secure were a lifeline. They were a way to cling onto his business and the possibility of turning things around. On the other hand, they had the potential to become a noose with which they might hang themselves.
The sadness and fear in her eyes were devastating and mirrored his own.
"How long do we have to decide?"
"A few weeks."
Her mind was racing again, he could tell from the way her eyes lost focus.
"You want to turn them down." She stated, neutrally, giving no indication of how she felt about that.
"I will do what ever you want me to, Margaret. I promise you," he assured her. If she was to say the word, he would invite those who wished to visit the mill tomorrow and sign the contract as soon as possible.
"That's what I am afraid of…" she countered with a sad smile, moving to get into bed.
"Why would you be afraid of that?" He asked confused.
She blinked as though clearing her mind of some troublesome thought, before shrugging and pulling the covers up to her neck as though it was inconsequential and bidding him good night.
John followed suit, too tired to dwell on her words. It was a relief to sink into his own bed and know he was not alone. As the days passed, however, John became more and more sure that Margaret was avoiding being alone with him. It was true that he returned to spending very little time away from the mill, but he was sure he was not imagining her evasion. It seemed to him that as soon as he entered a room, she found a reason to exit it and never before had he known his wife to be so keen to involve his mother in every conversation. It was all John could do to take comfort in his mother's advice and give her time to readjust to his presence. If he was honest, he had very little time to dwell on it, amongst his responsibilities at the mill.
…
Margaret gazed absent-mindedly into the bustling courtyard, her eyes glazed and unseeing. She had been chewing on her bottom lip so ferociously that it had begun to bleed, but she didn't notice, entirely too caught up amongst her jumbled thoughts.
"Margaret, I know we do not have the closest of relationships, but I am not blind," a voice interrupted Margaret's reverie and she flinched at the sound, her eyes searching for the source of its origin. John's mother was sat mending some ripped garments, thread in hand on a stiff-backed chair across the sitting room from Margaret. Her distraction had been such that she had not even realised she was no longer alone in the room. How long her companion had been there, she had no idea.
"I can tell that you are far from your usual self…"
Margaret self-consciously smoothed her skirts straight under the woman's gaze.
"And I do not believe that it is just because of the mill or my son." The older woman's face looked slightly pained as she set her work aside, waiting for Margaret to answer her.
She was right of course; Margaret's turmoil was not solely stemming from the troubles at the mill or John.
"I fear I am just a little tired," she answered. That much was certainly the truth, but she knew that her mother-in-law was going to demand a more detailed answer.
Sure enough, Hannah Thornton simply raised her eyebrows, disbelievingly.
Margaret squirmed internally. It had been awful not having someone to go to for advice. Should she finally break her silence and share her burden with Hannah? It did not thrill her that the person she would be confiding in should be her mother in law, who had so frequently thought very little of her, but Margaret was not sure she cared any longer.
"Are you ill?"
For the first time in Margaret's recollection, Hannah Thornton's tone held concern for her, and Margaret blushed, uncomfortably.
Hannah's anxiety seemed genuine and Margaret could not bear to lie. Suddenly, she didn't want to hide the source of her distress anymore. Hannah Thornton was right- in all likelihood they would never have a close relationship, but she was loyal and trustworthy- she would not tell outside sources- and above all, she loved her son enough to control her real feelings about what Margaret would reveal to her.
Devoid of the emotion that was still coiled tightly inside her, Margaret took a deep breath and voiced for the first time the source of her distress.
"I am going to have a baby."
It was a relief to finally say it out loud for the first time.
For a moment her mother-in-law was silent, but the silence spoke volumes as her piercing stare shot towards and focused unrelentingly on Margaret's not completely imperceptibly enlarged abdomen. For weeks there had been no sign at all, at least not anything perceivable to the eyes of others, but she knew she was not going to be able to hide it forever. Unless someone was looking for it, she did not think her predicament was noticeable when clothed, but it was now enough that she had needed to make sure her husband was either not in the room when she changed or facing away from her, which had proved difficult since she they no longer had the majority of the servants and she wouldn't have wanted them to see her either for fear that they would notice and gossip would soon be circulating. Since his return from London, she had found herself trying to find ways to undress and be in bed before he entered the room and make sure there was always someone else in every other room with them so that he might not have the opportunity to hold her to closely and realise.
Margaret could almost hear the cogs in the woman's mind turning over the information and her eyes flickered a little as understanding settled across her features. Finally, she took a deep breath and nodded slowly, allowing herself time to fully digest the information before making comment.
For a moment, the tick of the clock on the mantle-piece was the only sound to be heard above the hustle and bustle of the workers in the courtyard outside, but then, to Margaret's immense surprise, Hannah Thornton crossed the room to sit beside her.
"When are you due?" She asked, pragmatically. "Have you seen Doctor Donaldson?"
"November… and yes, I had to." Margaret answered miserably. She had tried so hard to pretend it wasn't happening, to ignore the signs, even as she wrote to Edith to ask about how one would know for sure they were with child and what they should do about it if they were. Thankfully, Edith had not deciphered her panic through her carefully worded petition and instead wrote of her delight that her cousin and John should be trying to conceive, happily informing her that, obviously, you had to allow a man to enact his rights as a husband to have a baby, should expect to miss the usual monthly bleeds and a host of other symptoms that only increased Margaret's suspicions and her panic.
For weeks after John had left, everything had seemed normal. Even when she had started suspecting something was wrong, it had not even crossed her mind that she might be with child and when it suddenly hit her that it could be a possibility, she had managed to block it out and convince herself it was impossible. Afterall, she had not experienced any of the sickness her cousin had spoken of, and the other signs could be attributed to simply being stressed or under the weather. That should have given her hope but it did not! She knew deep down. As time passed, and Edith's letter became a check list for the things Margaret was experiencing; it was becoming more and more likely that she was not simply ill. Perhaps that was her punishment for being so unladylike and wanting her husband regardless of the abandonment of their arrangement to be intimate with a view to having children. He had said they could still be together in that way and limit the likelihood, but in their haste, Margaret was not sure they had remembered to do whatever that involved.
She had tried to avoid visiting the Doctor. Edith's description of the examination used to check for a pregnancy had sounded awful and the thought she might die of embarrassment. She had also not wanted to cause such a burden on their finances or for John or his mother to find out, yet she had been unable to ignore what was so blatantly before her any longer and Doctor Donaldson had confirmed it, looking a little surprised when she had begged him not to mention anything to anyone, including her husband, but had agreed to respect her wishes and remain quiet on the matter. She had almost cracked then and written to confide in Edith but could not shake the feeling that do so would be a betrayal to her husband and she had stopped herself.
In a moment of lunacy, she had even considered consulting Fanny. Thankfully, she had come to her senses before doing so.
Hannah was silent, and Margaret could see the older woman debating something.
"You are three or so months along?"
"Four."
Margaret could see the cogs turning in her mother-in-law's mind.
"I didn't realise the nature of your relationship with my son would have allowed for this to occur?" Hannah phrased it as a question, but it was not interrogative, merely declarative.
"It shouldn't have…" Margaret trailed off, shaking her head as her mind filled with the images of those nights. "It wasn't planned…" Her cheeks blushed at the memory and at the irony of the situation, in finding herself pregnant as she had once wanted after she had accepted it could not happen.
She could not meet Hannah's eyes and she felt her cheeks heat to a deeper scarlet at having to admit that her and John's relationship had not stayed platonic as he had told her. That was more embarrassing than having her know of their original arrangement and Margaret had not been thrilled about that.
"Perhaps many things have changed between you and John?" she asked not unkindly. Margaret nodded with her eyes downcast as tears brimmed there. How could she possibly admit to her mother in law, or indeed anyone, that after her childish delusions and refusal to accept that she could ever be in love with a man such as John, she had only gone and fallen in love with him anyway? The magnitude of her predicament was amplified all the more by her worry that when he found out about her current state, it would shatter his already damaged spirit.
"Have you told him?"
She rose from the chair to stare from the window, her arms drawn across her body protectively and shook her head sadly. "No. I haven't told anyone."
"Why not?" Hannah questioned, her eyes following Margaret carefully.
"I cannot bear to." She admitted.
"Why?" her mother-in-law asked, her voice devoid of any emotion or judgement, just her usual matter of fact tone.
Margaret blinked at her. How could she not understand why?
"Because I have made matters so much worse, Hannah!" she exclaimed, all the worry of the last few weeks spilling into her impassioned words, "the worst part, is that I knew about the dire state of the mill when it have happened! He had already told me that we would lose the mill and disclosed his worries about the need for us to be so careful with money and still I did not think to prevent it…" Now, she had started, Margaret seemed unable to stop. "I watched him- a broken man as the reality of starting again was confirmed and then we…" She faltered as the reality that she was discussing something so personal with Hannah Thornton stopped her from saying exactly what they did. And then did again. "I would not blame him for being angry with me- I am angry with myself…"
She hated how hysterical she was sounding, even to her own ears.
"He wants to forget the investors. To start again and make it on his own. If I tell him about this, he will take the money and be indebted to a group of men who have no understanding of trade."
Defeated she sat and buried her face in her hands. Part of her wanted to let go of all the pent-up emotion and cry with abandon, but she didn't seem to be able to, hadn't been able to since she had realised what had happened, despite her feelings of trepidation. Overwhelmed, she lowered her hands and eyes to her lap, her worries racing around in her mind.
"And have you told him you're in love with him?"
Margaret flinched. With trepidation she raised her eyes to her mother-in-law's. To her surprise they were softer than she had ever seen them, bordering on kind and regarding her with something close to approval and Margaret knew it would be pointless to deny it. She had denied it for long enough. She shook her head sadly as warm tears finally trickled free from her glassy eyes.
Hannah's heart of ice must have thawed just a little as, to Margaret's surprise, she patted her hand reassuringly, the corner of her mouth raised just slightly, not quite a smile, but Margaret's spirits irrationally rose just a little at the rare sign of support.
"Babies are a blessing, Margaret." Hannah told her firmly, "always." The judgement Margaret had come to expect was completely absent from her tone and Margaret gulped back the urge to release a sob at the unexpected care in the older woman's voice.
"You should thank the Lord that you are lucky enough to be so fertile! If she knew of the circumstances, Fanny would be positively raging…" At the rare humour, Margaret could not help but release a half-laugh, half-sob as she found herself struggling to see through her tears.
"The poor girl and Watson had been trying since the moment they were married, if Fanny is to be believed."
Sniffing, Margaret self-consciously blinked back the watery veil, angry with herself for allowing Hannah to see her vulnerability and worried she had come across as ungrateful. Thankfully the woman could be tactful when she wanted to and carried on as though she had not noticed.
"No matter the unfortunate circumstances, or how hard it will be, John will be pleased. You will work through it, together. Whatever he chooses to do, he is dedicated enough that he will run himself into the ground for you and the child, and although it will pain me to see him do so, that is exactly as it should be. As for it being your fault, no matter how independent you think you are, I am unaware of any female who has accomplished the feat of creating life alone. Therefore, if blame is to be had, he must accept half! He also allowed it to happen."
Perhaps she was right. Margaret thought of the way he had always held her as they drifted off to sleep in the early hours of the morning and wished she had not pushed him away when she had longed to consult him most. Even if she could not have mustered the courage to tell him, at least she would not have felt so alone in this.
"There is nothing left to say but to wish you congratulations! I am happy for you both." The woman's usual blunt formality had returned, though she did not move from her place beside Margaret.
It seemed odd to be congratulated on something that had caused her so much strife, yet her heart leapt a little as she allowed herself to feel the faint glimmer of excitement.
"Thank you." Margaret said sincerely. The relief of her greatest adversary knowing her secret was all encompassing. She thought of her husband and the man he was, so strong and determined, yet the image of him tearful and despairing as he had confessed everything and faced the task of beginning with nothing all over again, haunted her waking hours and filtered into her dreams. She could only hope that when she told him, he did not hate her for the extra work or debt he would now have.
As if she could read her thoughts, Hannah continued, "But, you must tell him, Margaret. It will be far kinder to do so quickly so that he has longer to make the necessary arrangements and can make an informed decision."
"I know," she admitted, wiping away the last of the escaped tears. "I will tell him tonight."
Hannah nodded satisfied.
"I will go to Fanny and Watson to dine this evening so that you might be alone with my son and can discuss all you need to, without me in your way…"
She rose from her position with a quick pat to Margaret's hand that she supposed was supposed to be supporting.
"It must have been tough not having your own mother to speak to about this. I hope that in her absence I have at least been of some use?"
"You have." Margaret said truthfully as she watched Hannah return to her usual seat and pick up her sewing. With no further words, the woman resumed her sewing and both women lapsed into the comfortable silence they were so used to, both preoccupied with their own scattered thoughts.