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I want you to stay
I want you to stay, even though you don't want me
Girl, why can't you wait?
Girl, why can't you wait 'til I fall out of love?
- The Weekend: Call Out My Name
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In two homes on opposing sides of the city, one street filled with lower middle class families, and one with the upper crust of Liverpudlian entrepreneurs, two cups of tea grew cold.
The two owners of the cups had only had half an appetite for them when they received them, but looking over all their paperwork, even that half had gone.
Bills and orders were scattered over Mr. Thornton's desk. On the floor, next to the overly full bin, were balls of paper filled with an endless amount of calculations on how the year could go financially. Worst case scenario's, probable scenario's, and good scenario's. But the latter two categories, were both quite unlikely.
In the Hale house, Margaret was burried in letters and to-do lists. Hard choices had to be made regarding the furniture, her parents' personal belongings and her own. She'd put off making decisions when her mother died, but now the work was twofold, with the added problem of where she was to live, though that question had been temporarily answered by the Gallagher family. She had not been eager to accept their charity, but since she had no means of income she could no longer keep the house. And with all her loved ones abroad, she had no one left in the country to count on, except her godfather Mr. Bell, who had only left today to manage some affairs in Oxford but had supported her through her first week of mourning and had helped her keep vigil. He'd promised her he would soon return. She didn't have the courage or power to fight anymore. She had informed her aunt and her brother of her father's passing, since they had forced Frederick to leave the second Mrs. Hale had died. She did not know how they would respond to the news, or how anything could be done about the fact that she was now in fact an orphan with barely any money to her name. She was all alone.
A knock on the door announced that Mary had come once again to fetch her. Margaret threw a last look at the table full of things yet to be arranged tomorrow, and wordlessly left.
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'Oh, mama it was all so dreadful', Fanny sighed as she dramatically plopped down on her chair for dinner. Her wedding was but two weeks removed now.
John threw his sister a dark look, she knew not the meaning of dreadful, but their mother had begged him not to burden her with awful memories of their time spent in poverty or their current finances.
'What is it now, child?' Mrs. Thornton huffed as she rather spent dinner in silence.
'Me and Mary are both to be married this season, and quite soon, but we were not allowed any joy or excitement. All the young ladies were gathered and I swear, everyone must be quite excited for our weddings, but since Miss Hale was there everyone acted like it were their parents who had died instead of only hers.'
'Miss Hale was there?'
'Yes of course, she's almost always there. The Gallaghers have taken her in. She only goes to her house during the day to arrange her family's affairs, otherwise she'd be home alone all day and since she and Miss Gallagher are so close, she of course didn't allow that. I think you're bound to get a letter from her attorney… some Mr. Lennox and Mr. Bell to announce that the house will be vacated soon.'
Of course! He hardly could have expected a young unmarried woman to live on her own. Yet he had not given it any thought, his mind had been too absorbed by his own affairs.
'This cannot be a permanent arrangement?' asked John.
His mother was eying him sharply, fearful that the thought of Miss Hale leaving would cause him to do something rash like asking for her hand again.
'No, apparently she's waiting for a responsive from her relatives for a more permanent solution, but they're all abroad. She didn't talk at all when I was there, just said yes and no when the maid asked if she wanted more tea. But just as I left the mailman delivered a letter and it apparently said that the husband of her cousin received an additional six month stay in Corfu. However it isn't at all unlikely that unless some miracle happens, Miss Hale is to go live with them. So I have no clue as to what shall happen but the chances are very slim that Miss Hale shall remain with us for much longer.'
Every muscle in John Thornton's body froze. The sound of Mrs. Thornton's knife and fork cutting her food and Fanny's chattering became unbearably loud, but he could no longer focus. The room grew cold and life turned unbearably bleak. Not even the dozens of calculations he had made that day could have depressed him as much as the idea of Miss Hale leaving.
"Poor girl, Thornton, poor girl. She has suffered more than enough. This past year has brought her nothing but misery."
He could still hear Mr. Bell saying at Mr. Hale's funeral.
Nothing but misery, that was how she would without a doubt look back on his happiest year of life! The year in which he had gotten to know Margaret and fall irrevocably in love had been the year in which she had become an orphan and lost all her previous friends and acquaintances.
No more Margaret at balls, no longer a woman whose eyes had haunted him for months and whose conversation challenged him at every turn. She would be forever lost to him and he was not in a position to do anything about it! Was there no friend who could get her to stay in some miraculous way? Miss Gallagher, Sir Aldridge, Miss De Vere, could no one do anything?
No. He knew very well they could do nothing, they were but friends, and an unmarried young woman was forced to be with relatives if she was to keep any reputation or status, and she was a gentlewoman. She could have as much friends as she liked in Liverpool, without her parents she was isolated. Mr. Hale would have managed without his wife or daughter. Men had a public life and were capable of having meaningful connections through profession and interest. Friends could live together or rent chambers, if a woman did so her status would severely suffer. For gentlewomen there were no opportunities to have an independent living, at least not unless one was a wealthy heiress, which Margaret wasn't.
Miss Hale was as isolated and helpless as he himself. He was facing the downfall of his company and bankruptcy on his own, because of his competitive pride and philosophy of self-help allowing no alternatives. He felt like he could not ask others for help, yet he had not the means to help himself. Neither could Margaret do anything about her own situation, she was to suffer, on her own, through the hand fate dealt her.
How he wished he could speak to her! But she lived in seclusion because of her mourning period, and she would in all likelihood leave Liverpool before she got out of it. He knew he could not offer her any support, nor could he fix her problems, but to just look and talk to her, to set his eyes on her tranquil face, to hear her stern resigned but hopeful talk. He would give anything to just talk to her.
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'Well Margaret, I heard you received another letter today?'
The dark haired girl sat near the window of the drawing room, letter still in hand. She had grown awfully pale and wan, her dark dresses making her look even more ghost-like.
'Margaret?'
The girl slowly turned towards her friend, raising her eyebrows in surprise, as if she had only now become aware again of the presence of her friend.
'Who was the letter from?'
'Oh.' Margaret gazed at the letter as if she saw it for the first time, but in fact she had read it fifteen times since first opening it. She had been completely absorbed by it, and had been contemplating its contents until her friend entered the room.
'Margaret?'
Margaret looked up again.
'My… You know… My brother.'
'Oh! And what did he say?'
Mary took place on the ground, leaning on the knee of her friend in sympathy. She deeply worried for the girl. Just a month ago, she had wished for her friend to find happiness in matrimony, but now she could only pray that Margaret found a living arrangement. It broke her heart that she would be separated from a friend she had grown so close to the past couple of months. She had naturally started depending on Margaret's calm temperate character and reliable advice, but her friend would probably be unable to stay in the country for much longer. She almost felt tempted to postpone the wedding, she was in no mood to marry when her friend was suffering so. She had been engaged to Mr. Kearney for about eight months, she could easily wait some more.
'He asked me to come live with him and his wife in Cádiz.'
'You would get to see your brother again. Make up for lost time! Would you like that?' she asked with a smile in an attempt to cheer her friend. Spain was a long way from England, but it was not as far as Corfu. Though she doubted she and Mr. Kearney would be able to make the journey a lot, it would at least mean their letters wouldn't take as long to go.
'I love my aunt, and I do miss Edith, but there I would again be a burden to them, and I don't think I would enjoy going back to walking around in a pretty dress while making any conversation. I don't know what life in Cádiz could be, but at least there'd be one person I could talk honestly with, and who would be accepting of my mourning.'
'Are there any people speaking English?'
'A couple at least I think, traders mostly, and those in business with my brother. I don't know. I'll have to learn Spanish probably.'
Mary didn't want to ask how she was ever going to find a husband there. With her aunt it would be easy, another bachelor from the same regiment as her cousin's husband for example. But Margaret had only just been dealt the most awful blows possible at an incredibly young age. It wouldn't be fair to bother her about marriage. Besides, it was not as if it was entirely impossible to marry someone from another country. Right now the most important thing was that Margaret was comforted, got a home, and got time to process everything.
The friends remained together until dinner, after which they took their leave of each other and retired to their bedchambers.
The following days, Margaret tried to asses the situation as soberly as she could. She was now freed of her life as a caretaker. She'd lost all she'd taken care of: Bessy, her mother, her father. Now nothing bound her to Liverpool anymore, except her friends but those couldn't offer a solution to the current situation she found herself into.
Yet she had a choice: go to her aunt and cousin and return to a life of enforced idleness or travel to her brother in Cádiz. Both involved leaving her country of birth, the place she'd grown up in. First she'd been uprooted from Helstone not once, but twice, and now she was to leave England and all its customs, traditions and people behind. Once again, her future was uncertain. Who needed her most? Did either her aunt or brother really need her? It had all still been clear who to follow and what to do as long as her parents were alive, but now the decision appeared to lie with her: with whom did she want to spend her years? Where did she see herself belonging? Which option could bring her towards a future she could envision herself living? It was very odd to make a decision for her own benefit, it was entirely unnatural to Margaret to focus on herself, so used was she to pushing herself aside.
Mr. Bell returned a week later, with an insight he thought would be new to Margaret. He approached his godchild with the question whether she would like visiting her brother, if only temporarily, and announced he himself had always been interested in the history of Cádiz. Margaret, in turn, surprised him by announcing she had just been writing a letter to her brother saying that she would like moving in with him.
Preparations were made for Mr. Bell and Margaret to travel to Spain.
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A last evening was held for Margaret's closest friends to say goodbye. Sir Aldridge, Lady Elisabeth and Miss De Vere visited the Gallagher House and took their leave of their friend, who said little and focussed hard to keep from crying. They all solemnly vowed they would not tell a soul about her brother, and would instead tell others that Margaret had gone to live with a distant cousin on her father's side 'somewhere in Spain' without being specific. They themselves, however, would receive an address so they could maintain contact. The ladies gave her paintings they had made during their time together, and Sir Aldridge presented her a necklace with a hanger, the front side decorated with painted marguerites, with on the inside an artwork in which locks of hair of all her friends had been twisted together to create a lovely flower. After the gifts Margaret, who'd thought she'd run out of tears, found new tears to weep.
But the next day when they left, all of Margaret's acquaintances came together in the harbour, as this was the only occasion during which it could be accepted that someone in mourning like Margaret could greet everyone a last time. It was a solemn and tense affair, though surprisingly many people had shown up.
All pupils of her father, almost all company owners she'd ever set eyes upon and their wives, her friends, and even Higgins who she hadn't given a lot of attention once her mother came close to dying. She gave him a warm greeting and apologized for her lack of attention to him, but he, though stern, impressed on her that given the circumstances it was more than understandable.
She made her way through the crowd, exchanging brief but meaningful conversations to everyone. Her friends kept it short however, both because of the amount of people present and because they knew how this would add to her already great sadness. Everyone she'd said her goodbyes too flocked together in small groups to talk as they awaited the departure of her and Mr. Bell who was talking to some company owners.
Last in line, as if fate had thrown him in deliberately at the last spot to make her doubt her decision, a last buoy to signal her that after him, came wild unsure waters, stood Mr. Thornton.
The circumstances under which they had parted and under which they now met again could not differ more.
When she last saw him, they'd finally left the lingering fowl taste of the proposal behind them, and she had even dared dream about how it might have been had her mother not been ill.
Now he reminded everything she had lost: the mother and father she had preferred to stay with instead of marry someone, the chance of a life in England, someone she could have loved.
Mr. Thornton was in no light mood either. He hadn't slept in days since he'd received the news that his Margaret was to go to Spain. He had known since Fanny informed him that Margaret had no relatives on the continent that Margaret would have to leave, yet the news itself had still managed to destroy him.
Four times. That was the amount of times when he'd almost stormed out of his office, bed or dinner room, wherever he was at the moment his thoughts became to overwhelming, to propose to her again. Three times he'd managed to stop himself with the knowledge that he had been refused before and that a lady in mourning would be almost forced to refuse him for propriety's sake. The fourth time he'd managed to make it out into the street, box with engagement ring in hand, when his mother had run after him and begged him to reconsider.
He wondered if it would have made a difference had his mother not stopped him. Would he have gone through with it on his own accord? Would another option than 'no' have been possible?
She was so close to him, he had half a mind to take her into his arms and take her home with him like a caveman. With every second, his hate for society grew. It was society which had pushed them into these positions. Society telling women to take care of their elders, society forcing mourning people to suffer in solitude, society not allowing women to live independently without risking their reputations.
'Mr. Thornton, thank you for coming.'
Her voice was so small and unsure. He couldn't help but think back of her youthful unbothered gaze and strong and clear voice when he'd first met her. Was he to always stand by idly whenever she so clearly suffered? He'd seen her growing wan and tired twice now, and he doubted he could stand to see it happening a third time.
'You are going then.' It was neither the smartest or most useful of remarks. Weeks lay between them, yet it was the first thing that came to mind.
'Yes', Margaret confirmed in a soft voice.
Neither were overly eager for her departure as they looked at the boat and towards each other again. It was impossible that the memory of the last time they'd been in the harbour together wouldn't force itself into both their minds. The tensions during the riot, their embrace, his declaration of love and her fervent denial that anything between them was going to happen. How far they'd come in their understanding of each other since.
'I brought you father's Plato, I thought you'd might like it. I didn't know whether you two ever finished discussing it. It contains all his personal notes of critique, questions, own opinions, selected paragraphs.'
It was almost like she gave him a piece of her father, the man he'd grown to like so much in such a short time, and had felt like a kind fatherly figure he'd never had. In this were his words, his thoughts, his believes. It must not have been a book of her father's she had an easy time parting with. Mr. Hale himself had told him he'd discussed the work with his daughter at lengths before.
'I shall treasure it.' Her eyes fluttered towards his. Her gaze was searching and he feared his was all too open and telling. Purple bruises had formed underneath her magnificent green eyes from a lack of sleep as well, but her face was as clear as it had been the day he met her. Her bangs now resting against her temples instead of her forehead. It made him realize just how much time had passed.
'As will I your father's memory. He was a good friend to me.'
She didn't look at him as he spoke. His deep low voice moving all kinds of emotions in her, fighting to break through the layers upon layers of heartbreak and hollowness. How could she look at him, knowing how his piercing blue eyes and dark brow had always managed to unsettle her before? She was already struggling so hard to maintain her composure. His words only got a small smile out of her as she remembered all the nights she'd come home to find the two of them discussing a philosopher.
'You're not coming back.'
How could she? Why would she?
The questions ran through both there minds in similar screaming voices of anguish.
'I wish you well, Mr. Thornton.'
'A safe journey, Miss Hale. I wish you… all the courage and happiness.'
The statement was more generous than honest. He could barely bring himself to wish her well, as she was leaving him. He much rather she stayed put, even though he knew this place had brought her little more than loss. But he knew that she deserved happiness after all she'd been through.
He let her go, his sole chance of happiness, and sent with her all the remaining courage he still possessed to go through life.
She took the arm of Mr. Bell, and approached the ladder of the ship.
Once her figure was on that boat, the last fleck of colour in his grey life would finally disappear.
'Look back', he begged internally as she placed her first foot on the ladder.
A single glance to show she cared about what she was leaving behind.
'Look back at me.'
He knew it was unreasonable of him to wish she'd occupied herself with falling in love while nursing a dying mother and having both her parents die. Yet he wished and prayed that by some miracle, she'd fallen in love with him as well, and suffered just as much as him from being parted.
One look of her would be enough to make him dash towards her through the crowd. One look would be enough to offer himself to her again with a heart even more her own than when she broke it four months ago.
But she did not look. Not because she did not care, but because one look would shatter her completely.
'Margaret, do you wish to wave at your friends from the deck?' Mr. Bell asked.
It would be the polite thing to do, and if she was far away enough, she would not be able to see them sharply enough, nor would they notice her tears.
'I'm going to lay my bag in my cabin first', she replied. It would give her some time to breathe, and hopefully by then, the ship would have hoisted the anchor.
Mr. Thornton could not see her face sharply as she finally approached the taffrail, though there was no mistaking her figure and the rounder one of Mr. Bell beside her.
She was looking back, but the ladder had been taken away and the boat was faring out of the harbour.
Slowly people started disappearing, having decided the show was over. To them there was nothing new about watching a ship leave, and they were not as close to the people on it.
Had anyone asked, he could not have explained why he remained behind, even when the only others left were Margaret's friends. He could not know, however, that his reason for remaining behind was known to them, and lead them to pity him over tea a day later, as they bemoaned how different things could have been for Margaret had her parents remained alive.
But as it was, he stood transfixed, eyes fixed upon one figure only on the deck. Who had taken his heart with her.
He could almost fool himself into thinking
she was staring back
at him.
And Margaret in turn, looked at him and her friends until they became little more than flecks, blurred by the tears dripping from her eyes. Mr. Bell left her so she could mourn her old life.
It felt like she had left everything behind on those docks.
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Hola, did you see this twist coming? Are you surprised/excited/hesitant?
I mixed in some slightly altered phrases from the book (about the riot) and some dialogue from the miniseries (about Plato) but I think this will be (one of the) last times I shall use fragments from the book or series. I know i relied heavily on it the first few chapters, but this work has become its seperate entity, but I wanted it to have a strong canon basis, but we're now in unexplored waters hehe.
Comments
sari18: Me too. I'm so blessed that everyone I love in my life hasn't died yet, to have both your parents dying so quickly and almost at the same time seems the stuff of nightmares. I'd say keep following the story to see if she'll be able to embrace happiness :)
Kss: hope you enjoyed the twist :p
Poison Effect: hahah I hope I can keep on fulfilling those needs :)
LoveInTheBattleField: it'll be some time until you've wrestled through the chapters until you reach this one but I'm happy you're enjoying the story so far and a Happy New Year to you too :)
Playlist update:
The Weekend "Call Out My Name": Reminded me of Thornton's feelings for Margaret, though it obviously isn't entirely accurate.
Seafret "Atlantis": Still one of the almost themesongs of this fic.
Matt Kearney "Ships in the Night": our two lovebirds have now passed the stage where 'fists fly from their mouth' (for now) but they're still ships in the night constantly crossing each other but never meeting because of unfortunate circumstances.
Hurts "Stay": Especially the part
"We say goodbye in the pouring rain, And I break down as you walk away. Stay, stay. 'Cause all my life I felt this way. But I could never find the words to say Stay, stay. Alright, everything is alright, Since you came along, And before you, I had nowhere to run to, Nothing to hold on to, I came so close to giving it up. And I wonder if you know how it feels to let you go?" This basically perfectly encapsulates Thornton's feelings. He never loved before. If he suffered, he bore it alone. He still does, but now he's holding on to Margaret, the only thing which - though she brings him agony as well - warms him. He had hope, and selfish desires for the first time. Before he simply wished to help his family, to succeed so that his family would thrive again. He was focussed and proud of his job, but thought little of pleasure or joy. This was the first time he hoped, and now he has to let that hope go since he doesn't think he'll see Margaret again. Margaret doesn't know how he feels, but she now knows very well how it is to let people go.
You can still find the full playlist as "Pride and Power" on youtube on the channel Belgianbisous.
Have a nice evening everyone!