I'm sorry for my absence. In that month I graduated, started a new Master Degree, had to settle into uni life again, and had to arrange so much…
I also may have accidentally fallen in love with Sanditon and my creative juices flowed straight towards fanfiction for that series. I encourage everyone to watch it. It's historically inaccurate, it's a bit dramatic, but I really enjoyed it. It also got better as the series progressed. Tomorrow's the finale and I just can't wait for it! But after 2 finished fanfics for it (check them out on my Archive Of Our Own account: Muze) and one unfinished, and my life almost in order, I could come back to this fic again!
I still love it very much, I promise I won't quit it. I just had a lot of difficulty writing this chapter, since the last was really the end of the First Act of the three act structure I have in my head. Thornton's in love with Margaret, Margaret's feelings are starting to change, the side characters are developing… It was difficult to continue :p
What if I said I would break your heart? What if I said I have problems that made me, mean? What if I knew I would just rip your mind apart Would you let me out? Maybe you can stop before you start Maybe you can see that I just may be too crazy to love If I told you solitude fits me like a glove Would you let me out?
You ought to know where I'm coming from How I was alone when I burned my home And all of the pieces were torn and thrown You should know where I'm coming from
You Should Know Where I'm Coming From - BANKS
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The men left and those who stayed home settled into the for them usual rhythm of their life without them.
Margaret finally got her desired peace and quiet. Yet it was anything but what she'd imagined. There were no more dinner parties and no more conflict. It was odd how at first she had begged for quiet weeks where she didn't have to face any of the company owners and the conflicts they brought with them, but their physical absence didn't make them disappear from her mind. . Their presence was still felt everywhere in Liverpool. They were mentioned every day, and the lack of seeing them in real life confronted Margaret with how much she thought of them even when she didn't have to see them.
She found herself wondering about the intentions of Mr Ball and when Fanny Thornton described how obvious his search for a wife had been the past couple of years. When rain rolled down her window, she found herself worrying about potential storms at sea because Mr Slickson who always cut edges in an attempt to save money.
When talking to Mary she was confronted with just how worried the families were of the men who had left were, despite that they perfectly functioned without them. Mary's mother waited for a new letter each day, despite knowing that they would only arrive once every week at best. They read local weather reports and asked all ships which docked into the harbour to hear where they'd come from, and if they had heard something from the Liverpudlian ships.
On the first Sunday after the ships had taken off they met up with Lady Elisabeth to paint. They started out with a flower bouquet and both other ladies hadn't lied when they said their skills were limited. Yet they enjoyed the collective painting session as they talked about last week's party and music.
At the end of the afternoon they had some tea together with Lady Elisabeth's maid and Sir Aldridge. Apparently Sir Aldridge insisted on taking all meals and tea together with his sister.
'Ah ladies, how did your painting session go? May I admire your works of art?'
'Absolutely not.'
'If you wish.'
'They're unfinished', the three ladies answered in perfect discord.
They exchanged glances amongst themselves for a couple of seconds.
'You may do as you please brother. They're drying in the purple drawing room upstairs. But they're unfinished and so not as pretty as they could be. Perhaps if you would wait, we could show you a series of finished paintings in say, a month or two? Then you cannot only examine our paintings but our evolution as well.'
'Alright then. I shall look forward to it. Ah yes, Mrs Hurst, you can put the scones right here on the table. You can leave everything, I'll take it from here.'
'So, Miss Hale, I believe I owe you an apology', Sir Aldridge confessed while pouring tea into the cups. 'I was quite inquisitive at the party last week upon discovering you met my sister. I was far too direct. I was presumptive, and despite knowing you to be a kind spirit I somehow assumed you would think the same about my sister just like certain other people.'
'The same how? If I may ask Sir Aldridge', Margaret asked.
'Shocked. Disgusted by our father mixing the good old English blood. And if not that: assume her to be a maid in her own house. It has happened more often than I'd like to admit that someone addressed her like a maid in spite of the way she was dressed. It is why my sister dislikes big crowds and isn't as much a part of my public life as I'd like her to be. I didn't know whether I could trust you. I feared you might tell others about her. Same for you, Miss Gallagher. I should have known better, I knew the two of you after all.'
'It is alright, Sir Aldridge. You are protective of your sister. No one can blame a brother for wanting to protect the reputation of his sister and to shield her from mean spirited interactions.'
'Yes, after all, Liverpool has proven itself to be quite judgemental about those who don't fit in', Mary admitted while looking at Margaret. Margaret nodded silently while sipping from her tea.
'Luckily, most of our group of acquaintances are quite tolerant.'
'In some ways, but certainly not in others. We are only understanding and supportive of social climbing. I personally think that for us and our families, who are so used to be looked down upon by those who came into money by birth, we should be a great deal more humble about modern and different things. It is how we became the way we are, by going against the way life was set out for us to be. Yet when someone has another colour, or when someone acts in a way that isn't deemed respectable, we judge them by the same old standards that have been put in place by the aristocracy over a hundred years ago.'
'You are quite right, miss Gallagher', Lady Elisabeth smiled.
'But I do not blame others for assuming, though my brother does. People judge the things they encounter by what they know. If the only time they encounter someone with a different skin colour is when those persons are working in low ranking jobs, or as Abigails, it is no wonder they assume me to be a servant. In the Indies mixed babies are common but those babies rarely make the journey overseas.'
Mary and Margaret had the decency to blush.
'But if their wives are residing in the Indies…'
'More often than not, they're not their wives. The women they have the babies with are local.'
Upon seeing Miss Gallagher's and Miss Hale's shocked faces, Lady Georgiana continued.
'Not all of them do so no, but a good chunk. I don't wish to insinuate anything. But there's no use in lying about how most people like me come into this world.'
'I understand you, Lady Elisabeth, though the idea troubles me deeply.'
Women getting children from men who weren't their husbands. It was no wonder Mary's thoughts started to roam. In fact, Margaret knew exactly where her thoughts were at present.
She remembered how Thornton had said it was a regular occurrence. Now she knew why men kept it quiet. The thought that a young girl of seventeen might become stepmother to a bastard baby she'd never meet was impossible to live with. She wondered how the men coped with this knowledge. It hardly seemed worth it. What could be worth the disease, the soiling of women and the possibility of a children out of wedlock? What could be possibly worth it?
It intrigued her, but she accepted that she wouldn't like the answer, so she tried to think no more of it.
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Blue muslins. She remembered Edith wearing a colour in this shade since it perfectly matched the colour of her eyes. She wondered if she still wore it in Corfu. Winters in Greece were a lot milder than they were in England, but Margaret doubted they would be warm enough for that particular dress.
She tried to imagine celebrating Christmas without seeing snow. She tried to imagine New Year's Day being as sunny as Easter. It seemed odd.
'Margaret, which fabric should I take?'
'Hmm?'
Her attention was drawn back towards the pink patterned and the pink glossy shade of silk held up by Mary.
'The fabric for the wedding dress Miss Hale, where are you with your thoughts?'
'It's nothing, my apologies. I think the pattern looks lovely and the fabric looks sturdier too.'
'Always practical, aren't we. But now I am curious. Was it a man?'
'No! There was just a fabric which reminded me of a dress my cousin liked to wear. I lived with her and my aunt for years. Sometimes it is still strange to not have her near me. We haven't been separated this long since we were little girls.'
'Oh, that's dreadful Miss Hale. Now I feel guilty for asking. You're right though, the pink pattern is very pretty and it would be perfect for a spring wedding, even on a chillier day. I'll let the seamstress make a couple of sleeves to go with it in case the day is very cold. You know, we should go to London. I want my dress to be at the height of fashion.'
Margaret smiled and followed her friend to a wall filled with ribbons.
After a careful selection of short pieces of fabric and ribbon to present to Mrs. Gallagher, they returned home for tea.
'You know, Margaret, I am still sorry for calling you out like that in the shop.'
'It's fine, Mary. I should have been more present.'
'It's just… I know it is a naughty question… But have you ever been in love?'
'What?' Margaret asked with a laugh after she swallowed a piece of sandwich.
'Well, you're like nineteen. And you're becoming twenty this year. You've lived in London for years, and have been in Liverpool for about five months… Don't tell me you've never even seen a man you considered handsome.'
'Handsome? Of course. But love is a big thing. Just being handsome can't make a woman fall in love, surely?'
'No, it doesn't but it can help a lot. I personally don't think there are many men I've met that are more handsome than my Mr. Kearney.'
Margaret could recognize he was handsome, but he honestly wasn't that tempting.
'So?'
'So… I don't even know what love feels like. If we don't know how an emotion feels, how can we know we are experiencing it?'
'Ah yes, it is difficult. Especially for us since we're kept in the dark. But have no fear, I've read many books and believe myself to be very much in love and I've recognized a certain couple of sensations and thoughts which together, form a unique combination which probably indicates love. It's just my experience and the experience of other engaged ladies I've talked with, but it will have to do. Are you ready to hear my discoveries?'
'I suppose I can't stop you from presenting the results of your study. Do say.'
'Well, first of all, there's the heartbeat. It always picks up when said person is near you. In the beginning you don't know if you're nervous for the event, for making mistakes or in love… But your heartbeat will rise even in situations where you shouldn't be nervous. Your breathing will be irregular. Everything feels weird.'
Her body registered a sensation not unfamiliar to the sensation of falling. He stepped closer still, and she felt ever so small and powerless. Her stomach felt uneasy, her heart hammered in her chest, even her breathing felt constricted.
Restless behaviour, a wild heartbeat, shaking hands…
'Secondly, you always manage to find them in a crowd, it's like your eyes instinctively find that person.'
Her eyes singled out the tall figure in black on all occasions. She spotted him first in any crowd, even out of the corner of her eye. She could always feel his gaze.
'Thirdly, you can't stop thinking about them and you can't find a good reason why. You lose sleep, you lose passion. It's like you're falling ill. You pick up your favourite instrument but can't play a note. You try to focus on writing a letter but your mind starts to drift. It's nonsensical.'
How was it that he haunted her imagination so persistently? What could it be? Why did she care for what he thought, in spite of all her pride… in spite of herself?
Why did she tremble, and hide her face in the pillow that night and the nights following? What strong feeling had overtaken her at last?
She prayed to God for understanding and for peace of mind, but neither came.
Food couldn't evoke any appetite, her paintings were left as untouched as they were the day he walked in. Even books she was really invested in couldn't hold her attention for more than an hour before her thoughts went to the failed raid and the proposal again.
'You also start doubting yourself in ways you never did before. It's like you can never say the right thing. You want to be on your best behaviour. You want to be without fault.'
She only knew that she regretted her words as she spoke them and saw how they hit their mark. A cold feeling wrapped itself around her heart as his warm hands dropped her hand.
'They're attractive to you. And sometimes you're ashamed to admit it. You look for them in crowds, you think of them in ways you shouldn't. You still know there are handsomer men on a technical level, and you want to admit that they aren't on the same level. But in your heart of hearts, you can't help but feel a certain way about their looks… Even when the looks of handsome men leave you cold.'
"One needn't be handsome to be attractive, Margaret love. But you don't understand that yet, I can see the confusion in your eyes. You talk of love as if it is a chore one has to do, dear girl, but the thing is… Loving isn't a thing you can do, it just happens. Your mind and body will know before you are even aware of it, despite their character and despite their looks."
'Lastly, despite all the awful physical feelings, despite the fear, despite the pressure you feel on your behaviour, despite their looks, despite what you want in a husband… You still want to talk to them. It's like everything you want in a suitor doesn't matter anymore. Fate has decided. And you try to avoid it but trying not to think of it, trying not to look at them, trying to avoid them… it all feels wrong.'
Margaret hated how she had intuitively thought about Mr. Thornton for each characteristic of love Mary had described. She hated how they all fit.
She'd thought on it.
Since the proposal her unconscious, and even a small part of her conscious, had questioned her feelings for Mr. Thornton.
But she'd never been able to believe it. She had refused to believe it. She denied her emotions the night before the proposal. She suppressed the sadness after the proposal. She forced herself not to think of him, yet her behaviour had been just like the one described by Mary… She hadn't been productive. All her passions had gone. All her thoughts were occupied. If she wasn't paying attention, his image automatically appeared in her head.
'So, how many women are taken up in this study?'
'About seven, including myself. Why? Margaret, what do you think of it? Have you ever felt like that? You're my closest friend. It would be so nice to know I can talk to you about this, to know we both experienced the same thing.'
Margaret shook her head, but Mary pressed on.
'Oh god, you have. You wouldn't be avoiding the answer if you haven't. Do- Do I know him? Is he from here?'
'Mary…'
'He is! Is it Mr Ball?'
'Mary!'
'He does like to give you attention, and he's looking for a wife. Hmm, perhaps Sir Aldridge?'
'Mary!'
'What, you're friends. We're all friends. And he really likes you. I'm engaged so obviously I'm not an option. And we're the only two in Liverpool he allows to be close to his sister.'
Margaret shook her head, looking at the ceiling begging for divine guidance to avoid the answer.
'Who else is single? Mr. Thornton! No, that would be unlikely. You both argue so much. You're different like day and night. Though you're both disciplined and pragmatic. And you're both not overly emotional. But I don't think Thornton has a romantic bone in his body. That man seems to care only about his business. Especially after the near rumour you were after him… It would be so awkward if you suddenly… Wha- Margaret. Margaret are you blushing? Oh no, you're almost crying. Margaret dear what is it? I'm sorry did I speculate too much? I'm sorry. I should have been more sensitive. You didn't want to talk about it. Hey- hey! It's fine.'
'I – I…'
She couldn't get it past her lips. It was too intimate. She'd kept it bottled up for weeks.
But to have Mary talk about her and Mr. Thornton like that was too much.
She felt the urgent need to defend his character, though Mary hadn't been too wrong in describing it.
To hear from the lips of another that they did have things in common. To hear that she had acted in such a way that he was the least likely candidate for her to marry, it broke her.
'Margaret, talk to me. Please, you were there for me at the party, allow me to be here for you now. You can trust me. Oh Margaret, may I hug you?'
She nodded weakly and two hands started rubbing her upper arms.
'Shh, you're fine. Whatever it is. You're strong.'
'I'm stupid.'
'You're not. You're one of the smartest women I know, and a kind one at that. That's a rare combination!'
Margaret huffed a laugh, and even Mary had to supress a giggle.
After ten minutes, she had her breathing back under control.
'Mind telling me what that was about?'
'Mr. Thornton proposed.'
'Oh my god!'
'And I refused.'
Mary was just staring at her with an open mouth.
'And you're feeling bad because…'
'Because I… I think I love him.'
'But then why did you refuse?'
'My mother is gravely ill. And it's been hard for our family ever since moving because of it. I can't leave. What will happen to my father? I don't know what to do.'
'Do you want to get married to him at one point?'
'Maybe. But I don't know when. My mother won't get better again. To leave my father without mother there for him… I can't.'
'But Margaret, be practical. You equally can't wait to marry until your father dies. He's still in his fifties. He could still have twenty years to live. That's beyond childbearing age for you… You could take him with you when you marry. The Thorntons have rooms to spare, and your father and Mr. Thornton like each other.'
'It doesn't matter now, does it? I refused him.'
'Yes, but it can be just like in that one book. Persuasion! She refused Captain Wentworth once, but in the end, they're still in love so they decide to marry after all. Even years after the first proposal. It won't be as easy to get a man to propose a second time, but I'm sure it can be done. Have some hope, Margaret.'
'Currently, I have no desire to be near him. It makes me too nervous. I want to avoid him. I just want to focus on my family for now. Perhaps that'll change, but right now it won't. I'm glad he's gone, it gives me some respite.'
'Alright then, if that is your wish I shall help you. But Margaret, just know I'm here for you from now on. It's obvious you've struggled with so much for such a long time, it's a wonder you didn't crash earlier.'
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'Miss Hale, Miss Galagher, welcome again. I've been told by my sister that today is the day of the grand exhibition?'
'Well it is an exhibition but don't expect too much, Sir Aldridge', laughed Mary as she walked past him to stand with Lady Georgiana. Margaret also went to stand beside her in front of the door hiding the paintings they'd made the past couple of months.
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They'd painted an entire day each week, and always had tea afterwards with Sir Aldridge. They'd grown quite close, and any secrets they'd had at the beginning, had disappeared by the time Georgiana tentatively opened the door to reveal the paintings they'd all made.
First Lady Georgiana had been informed of Mary's conflicted feelings about Mr. Kearney, and then Mr. Kearney and the impending marriage had even been discussed in Sir Aldridge's presence since they couldn't be bothered to wait another week to talk about certain matters.
Sir Aldridge discussed his investments in London with them.
All three Liverpudlians took the time to thoroughly educate Margaret on what she didn't yet know about the town. One time when the weather was particularly mild, they even took a carriage ride through the city to show Margaret various spots and outlooks on the city she hadn't seen before.
Margaret informed them of the health of her mother, and explained that because of this, she was needed in the household a lot more than was habitual for ladies of her stance. Though luckily, her mother didn't deteriorate any farther, and her attitude was a lot more optimistic now that Spring had come.
Sir Aldridge confessed his love for a certain Lady he only dared name her Lady M. She was apparently above him both in matters of money and station, but he was absolutely besotted with her since they first met in London some years ago. She was the only child of a very rich man determined to enlarge the prestige and wealth of his family. As the only son of the only son of the family, he had been the sole heir. And since both he and his two sisters had been unable to produce male heirs, everything would go to his daughter. Since the name would end with her, he could only hope the honour of his family would be saved by her marrying into an even wealthier and better family, preferably with someone with an even higher title. That way, at least in his eyes, it would not be seen as the end of his family, but as the union of two strong families. His blood would be able to live on in the veins of noble lords and ladies, and this, in his eyes, was not a loss.
The lady's father had come to pass this Winter, and though Sir Aldridge still feared the lady would honour her father's wishes, he couldn't help but feel hope too. And so, every week, he came up with a new piece of information about her he'd heard from a friend, or a new idea to win her over. Hearing of Sir Aldridge's tale of woe managed to divert Margaret, and it succeeded in not making her feel as alone with her troubles of the heart.
And so they talked, and laughed, and comforted one another with soothing words. Of course, their families knew nothing of the cross gender friendships they'd formed, or about the private matters they discussed.
But the four of them, with the occasional addition of Miss De Vere who sometimes joined them on trips, were a closely knit group.
And so the three ladies were at a complete ease when Sir Aldridge observed their paintings of the parcs, birds, mantlepieces, fruit bowls, flower vases and sea sights and declared them "above what he had expected, though there weren't a lot of pieces worth hanging in halls of old aristocratic families."
Margaret had finally settled down in this rhythm, and ever since confiding in Mary, she'd felt a lot better mentally. Though she still carried the burden of her household, her mother's illness and her father's worry, talking about it had made her feel less alone.
And with time, she also processed the events from January. She'd come to accept her confusing feelings, and allowed herself to experience them even when she didn't want them. She knew now that she had always admired Mr. Thornton's vigour. And she knew that she loved him who was consistent, large, strong and tender, and yet a master. Yet she also accepted that since she'd refused him, she'd have to act accordingly. It wouldn't do them any good to confuse him with kindness when she didn't wish to marry him. She wasn't certain whether she'd be able to walk to fine line between being polite and kind, yet not hypocritical. She simply had to wait until the men arrived back home to see how they would interact from now on.
'You know what you should paint? The garden of Lady M. They're a true delight, right near the Scottish border. You could paint that garden for the rest of your lives and not be bored. She's got every type of rose there is to be found on this earth, and the outlook over the area from the terrace and the tower is simply divine. True beauty all year through. Those lovely delicate blossoms in spring, the lush green of all the trees and grass in the summertime and then the red ivy climbing up the castle walls in autumn.'
'It's indeed a pretty castle. I've accompanied my brother about two times now. We should go sometime.'
'Sir Aldridge? Lady Georgiana?'
'Yes, come in.'
'News just came in. The ships have been spotted on the horizon. They'll be here in a couple of hours.'
The men were back.
'Oh how exciting, we should go and greet them. Have you ever witnessed the ships returning, Miss Hale? It's quite extraordinary. Half of the city goes out to greet them at the docks, wine bottles are opened, it's quite the celebration. Even the big companies allow their labourers the rest of the day off, since almost everyone has relatives returning.'
'I haven't.'
'Would you like to? You're going, aren't you Edward?'
'Yes, I take it I shall', Sir Aldridge laughed.
'I'm not sure', Margaret confessed, suddenly feeling unsure all over again. Would it be strange to await the boats? There were multiple company owners returning, Thornton's boats might very well not be amongst the first ones to arrive back.
'Maybe I better head home. I'm sure I will meet everyone in due time. Today is for the reunion of family and friends. You've known these men for many years, Sir Aldridge, I haven't.'
Mary understood Margaret's conflict and threw her a pitying look.
'There are plenty of people who aren't connected to the people on the boats but are nevertheless curious about the arrival. But I shan't press on if you are uninterested.'
The company finished their tea and decided to withhold from making new plans until the men had settled in.
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At home everything went on as usual. Margaret did her chores. Her mother knitted and mended items while talking about childhood adventures of either Margaret or Frederick, or told Margaret unknown stories about her youth as a young Miss Beresford.
Her father had started doing more tutoring sessions again, since some of the men he taught had now returned.
Mr. Thornton hadn't been in the first group of boats, he'd arrived two days after Mr. Ball and Mr. Gallagher sr together with young Mr. Gallagher whose boat had been slower then the one of his father. Three days after that Mr. Slickson's boats had arrived. Two of them had needed repairs on the way, which had slowed them down.
The company owners had successfully brokered deals with Dutch, Spanish, French and even some inland countries on the continent. On the way back some had already sold some of their raw materials and processed products like spirits.
To Margaret it seemed like the money troubles caused by the cold winter would be forgotten by the summertime.
She would no doubt hear, because her father announced a dinner party was being hosted by Mr. Ball to celebrate the successful journey. So off they went, all three of them, to the dinner party.
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It had been some months since everyone had gotten together under one roof. Some of the children now stood a thumb higher, and all ladies had gotten wider sleeves, and some wider skirts.
Even the men had changed fashion. Now that he was back in large companies, Sir Aldridge stopped wearing his more comfortable but less fashionable older garments. But even the company owners, who usually wore their straight silhouettes and no nonsense clothes, had brought more fashionable clothes with them from London. No doubt they'd worn the most fashionable clothes to impress clients, Sir Aldridge explained as he and Margaret were watching everyone interact. They lacked title, and their fortune wasn't big, so they tried to present themselves as well as they could.
She had to admit it complimented most men. The collars were high and shawl-like in order to frame their faces, and she had to admit it complimented Mr. Thornton's strong jawline and Mr. Ball's sharp cheekbones in particular. Their waists were cinched in, a detail that stood out even more because of the broad shoulders, padded chests and mutton shaped sleeves.
Their preferred colours were still dark. Only Sir Aldridge pranced around in white trousers, a red vest and a midnight blue coat, the rest were all walking around in muted blues, browns and black.
'Margaret, I can't help but notice you seem to be in low spirits. Is something the matter?'
'Oh no, I'm just distracted.'
'It takes some time to get in it again, doesn't it? One gets out of the habit of being sociable.'
'Something along those lines, yes. I'm afraid I'm losing more of my London habits each day, I'm even starting to wonder how I entered conversation with vague acquaintances before. What is it you do if you feel like that?'
'Well, I search for someone I don't struggle with, like you. Then I stand by the side and get warmed up by talking with someone, like now. Then I start looking at the people, and I decide whose temperament suits my present temperament best. I hope I make eye contact with someone, and then I approach them with a smile and pretend like I'm not uncomfortable at all. And as I'm having an animated discussion, people join in. Which is fine for me, since I don't have to make the first step… Like now.'
'Mr Ball!'
'Ah, Sir Aldridge, Miss Hale. How do you fare?'
'Very well, thank you', Sir Aldridge smiled, but Mr. Ball was focussed on Margaret.
'I'm doing well. Thank you. How has your trip been?'
'Oh, wonderful… Yes, excellent even. If all goes well I'll be able to recuperate the losses of November and December and the trip to India at the end of summer shall be pure profit.'
'At the end of summer?'
'Yes, it's the winds you see? They change. It's almost impossible to get to India certain times of the year, and during some periods it's very hard to leave. The best thing to do, if you don't want to waste a lot of time, is to enter India during the last month of favourable winds and stay there until the winds change. It's easier to go to the America's, you can get there by the streams and currents. They're present almost year through.'
'May I ask why you visit India? I know you can get many things there, but isn't it more profitable to travel to the other places more often, all the time spent going to, remaining and returning from India could be invested in other ventures. No?'
'Well yes it's possible. But India is the meeting place of many cultures and many commercial routes both on land and by sea. It's the easiest place to meet foreign traders, and buy stuff from almost every important Asian country. The time spent there, repays itself in profit. Almost all companies want to go to India, but few are allowed to. And there are certainly those who have stopped going. Some have really managed to earn riches by working together with traders from other countries. They divide the foreign countries amongst them and each company bring the goods from the other countries with them to a meeting harbour, from which each company departs with goods from all the countries. Others really try to exploit their fastness. They buy the fastest ships and travel to countries that often, that they have new goods coming in each month. Some companies only buy and don't process their goods, which cuts out a lot of time. We, for example, process raw fabrics and some of us work with local business like mills, shoemakers and carpenters. There are many businesses right now either only shipping goods, or processing and then selling. The business is changing at a rapid pace, Miss Hale. I'm sorry, I'm boring you with my extensive talk of business. Am I not?'
'No, not at all Mr. Ball. It's as impossible for the men here to refrain from discussing business, as it is to wish for an England without rain. No, business will always be discussed, so it's better for me to understand it.'
'I'm glad, Miss Hale. Perhaps there might come a day our conversation will be more enjoyable than London conversation.'
'I already prefer Liverpool, if only for the people having more purpose and the conversations being less superficial.'
'Perhaps you might even be tempted to stay.'
'I don't know where the winds shall blow me, Mr. Ball. I have little say in the matter.'
He seemed encouraged by her words nonetheless, and with a smile, took his leave again.
For the remainder of the night, she noticed Mr. Thornton looking her way. And she couldn't help but examine him too from across the room. But with Mary's protection, and Sir Aldridge's frequent attention, she never got into a conversation with him, until, over desserts, a conversation was started about parcs and gardens.
The men who had taken grand tours discussed the French and Italian gardens they had visited. And weighed their value and beauty in an attempt to discern which garden style was superior.
Mary told a story about a garden she'd once visited in Wales, and ended her monologue with the question what Miss Hale thought of gardens, and if she had visited many.
Margaret confessed to only having visited five gardens worthy of being praised.
'But I do love nature. In Helstone we might not have had a designed garden, they require maintenance and look quite unnatural, which is something my parents aren't very fond of, but there was nature everywhere around us. You could roam in the forest all day long, walk through meadows filled with bluebells and at the end of the day you could watch the sunset from a hill overseeing miles and miles of fields. It was a lovely sight, and I never felt the need for a large garden with buildings, water masses and hedges in it. If one has the opportunity to create a big designed garden, I see no reason why one should refrain from it, if one likes such a style. Though, I'm afraid that even when people like gardens, they are unable to in these cities. One has to move to the outskirts of town before one has the space to create such a garden, and that garden has to fit in with the environment as well. Those are the disadvantages of citylife. All by all I think Liverpool has too little nature. Sometimes there are days where I don't see anything green except for a couple of chamber plants and flower arrangements. I feel awfully detached from nature sometimes.'
'Yes, I believe this is why cities will never catch on. There is a need for big cities for commerce, social affairs and practical things like courthouses, lawyers, bookshops and the sort but man needs to be in touch with nature. I find cities all by all quite unnatural. I couldn't live without escaping to the country every couple of months. It is only normal that when given the choice, one lives in the country and rents or buys a house in town to reside in during the season or when needed. You know, I think, after months at sea for the lot of you, and months between brick buildings for us, we could use a fun getaway. I happen to be well acquainted with the Strabolgi family, living near the Scottish border. They have the most magnificent gardens in the romantic style. They could be stolen straight out of Arcadian paintings, or the paintings created by the Idyllic School. Their gardens are designed by William Kent himself. My friends, why don't I contact them so that we may visit? It's but a five hour drive away. If we wake up early, we can be back by night. Or we could make it a prolonged trip?'
The girls immediately agreed and started begging their parents and brothers to go, and the men, unwilling to let Sir Aldridge go on a trip with a flock of ladies, agreed to go as well.
And so Sir Aldridge had the ideal excuse to visit his Lady M. and the other men got a few days off to relax and try to charm the single ladies. Margaret didn't quite know whether she'd go yet. They had decided on a longer trip, which meant she had to be away from her family for two days. She didn't know whether she could do that. Her mother's health had been stable, but what if her health took a turn for the worse?
Mr. Hale decided Margaret was to join the company, though Margaret warned Sir Aldridge right before she and her family left for home that it was still possible she decided to cancel the trip.
Sir Aldridge took her hand, and promised her he understood, and then escorted her to her carriage.
'That's an awful lot of lights burning for just Dixon', noticed Margaret when they arrived home.
'She mustn't burn that many candles indeed. I can see light from behind the double curtains of the drawing room.'
The Hales entered their house.
Quick footsteps resounded on the stairs.
'Oh Mrs. Hale, Mr. Hale, Margaret. You'll never believe it! Quite the surprise. Come come.'
Margaret quickly followed Dixon upstairs.
'Apparently the mail is quite slow.'
'What on earth are you talking about Dixon?'
'He sent a letter two weeks prior to leaving, yet he got here before the letter?'
'Who?' asked Margaret.
Trepidation and excitement ran through her as her mind conjured the most logical answer as Dixon opened the drawing room door.
'Master Frederick came home at last!'