Chapter 3: The Realm of Forms

I publish the banns of marriage between John Thornton and Margaret Hale, both of this parish, and I bid your prayers on their behalf. If any of you know cause or just impediment why these persons should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, ye are to declare it. This is the third time of asking.

—-

Margaret and John knelt together at the altar as the priest gave the final blessing. They married at the beginning of September, a little more than a month after the rioting at Marlborough Mills. The strike had been broken and the workers had returned to the mills with a pay cut worse than the last. The union had been crushed.

Margaret signed her maiden name for the final time next to that of her husband's in the parish register. It was a surreal moment. She let her hand brush against his and they looked at one another, allowing a moment of communion to pass between them as this staggering final shift in their relationship was accomplished.

John gazed down at her with an unsmiling but soft expression. "Shall we, Mrs. Thornton?" She nodded nervously and he tucked her hand into his arm. They departed the vestry and walked up the aisle together. It was a crisp, grey morning when they approached the entrance to the church and presented themselves to the world as man and wife.

Some way off, unobserved, Nicholas Higgins stood with his daughter, Mary, taking in the scene. Mary was a quiet girl who admired Margaret. She thought her and Thornton made a handsome pair and Margaret a bonny bride in her Honiton lace and orange blossoms. Nicholas glowered at the sight of it all. Miss Margaret married off to a master. A bitter pall hung over him. He pressed at Mary's arm and they turned back towards the place from whence they had come.

—-

It had been a long day for Mrs. Thornton. The wedding breakfast was hosted at Marlborough Mills, due to the small size of the rooms at Crampton and out of consideration for Mrs. Hale's fragile health. As such, it fell to Mrs. Thornton to handle most of the arrangements. After the guests departed, the family took tea in the drawing room. She would have to adjust to having Margaret around all the time and, indeed, to being replaced as mistress of the house. It taxed her pride to acknowledge an inevitable changing of the guard but Mrs. Thornton was determined to manage the transition with her usual stoicism. It smoothed the path somewhat to see how well Margaret had comported herself today and throughout the engagement. She was not overtly cheerful but neither was she sullen or withdrawn. She and John had clearly come to an accord. They were not affectionate, precisely, but they were attentive to one another, and Margaret was courteous towards her and Fanny. Although Mrs. Thornton hated to admit it, she rather hoped Margaret might prove to be a sobering influence on Fanny, whom Mrs. Thornton regrettably viewed as silly and unserious.

After a time Fanny and Mrs. Thornton announced their intention to retire. Mrs. Thornton took a final glance at her son – who in turn was watching his new bride – before quitting the room.

Margaret and John lingered. Evenfall drew near, making the room feel close and familiar in the glow from the hearth. They sat together in a comfortable quiet, his arm stretched out and resting on the settee behind her.

Margaret released a nervous breath. "It has been quite a day."

"Aye, that it has. And how are you?"

"Just a little tired, that is all."

He nodded, fingering the glass of brandy resting in his lap. Margaret inched closer to him, and surprised him by placing a tentative hand lightly on his knee. She looked up at him, expectant. He raised the hand resting behind her and moved it to stroke the tendrils of hair grazing her neck. As he did so he leaned in and touched his lips to hers. Their first kiss was gentle, lips parting ever so slightly. The hand at her neck fell to wrap around her shoulder and draw her closer into him. They remained kissing like this for a time before pulling apart.

Their eyes kindled in the gloaming, each taking the other in, anxious yet warm.

"Shall we retire?" she asked.

John stood and held out his hand to her. They ascended the staircase and stopped in front of the door to Margaret's room, which connected to John's. Before she stepped in to change out of her wedding attire, John spoke.

"Margaret?"

She turned to him, an eyebrow raised in question when he hesitated. "Yes?"

"When your maid attends you, bid her to leave your hair in place."

She blinked at him. "Why?"

He dipped his head. "I'd like to take it down myself."

Margaret's breath hitched. She gave a shaky nod in assent but he had already turned to walk into his room.

—-

When she came to him later, dressed in a new robe and chemise from her trousseau, he was attired in only his trousers and shirtsleeves. His jacket, waistcoat, cravat and socks had been removed. She stepped into his bedroom and took a cursory look around. It was sparsely adorned but looked comfortable.

He crossed the room to sit in a large wingback chair near the fireplace. She followed and, at his invitation, moved to sit sideways on his lap with her legs dangling across him, not touching the floor. She placed her arms shyly on his broad shoulders, marveling at the intimacy of such contact. He filled his hands with her hair, languidly caressing her scalp as he began his search. Both of their breathing grew shallow as John found the first pin holding her hair in place and carefully removed it. She let out a gentle sigh and he watched her face intently as his fingers reached another pin. He took his time, unhurried, and leaned in to kiss her neck, her lips, her eyelids, as his hands worked. Once he had removed the final pin, he smoothed the wavy tresses that fell down her back.

Then he reached down to untie the robe at her waist and nudged it open. She stood in front of him and let it fall from her shoulders. He sat up in his chair and removed his shirt. Margaret held her breath for a moment as she reached out to touch his bare chest. It was lean and strong, sprinkled with raven hair. His body tensed beneath her fingertips and he sucked in a breath.

John moved to stand in front of her, gazing down into her face, eyes dilated to a dark blue. He placed a hand on her collarbone.

"May I?" he asked.

She nodded sheepishly and he slid the sleeves of her chemise down away from her shoulders. The garment fell from her body, revealing her nakedness to him. A flush spread down her neck and she instinctively covered her breasts with one arm. His intense eyes locked on hers. He placed his hand over hers to gently move her arm to the side. It took courage for her to hold his gaze and not to look away as he scanned every inch of her face before letting his eyes wander over her form. He took in several deep breaths and she watched as his jaw clenched and his throat bobbed with a heavy swallow.

"So beautiful." His voice was an uneven, deep baritone.

He removed his trousers, keeping his underpants on for the time being. He led her over to the bed and they reclined next to each other. They kissed again, this time his tongue sliding against hers as he ran a hand across her rib cage, his thumb ghosting the curve of her breast.

"Is this alright?"

Margaret tensed with the unfamiliarity of it, but it was not unpleasant. Her skin responded to his touch, his fingertips leaving gooseflesh in their wake. And she liked the strange sensual way his mouth felt against hers. "Yes."

A deep spreading warmth intensified her awareness and ebbed away some of the tension. She began an exploration of her own, her hand resting curiously on his lower abdomen. She felt the muscles tighten. She continued lower until he tore his mouth away.

"Margaret, I –" They looked at each other, and she saw the question in his eyes.

"Yes," she breathed. She nervously kissed him on the mouth, self conscious at initiating a kiss herself for the first time, but also reassured by it. "Yes," she said again.

John removed his underpants and shifted his body over hers. One hand tangled in her hair and the other touched her knee to gently nudge it aside.

"Hold on to me." He swallowed her painful gasp as he claimed her maidenhood.

—-

Margaret stirred a few hours later, her eyes adjusting to the darkened room. The first thing she registered was the gentle breathing of her husband sleeping next to her. She smiled softly at the sound. Growing up with just one sibling, she always had her own bedroom to herself, and so had never shared a bed with anyone before, not even with Edith when she lived in London. Margaret reached out a hand in the darkness to rest on his chest. It felt comforting not to be alone. Her body was a bit sore from their initial coupling but she also felt a fledgling longing emerge from some concealed place within her.

"John," she whispered. She sidled up to him, her body resting against his arm. She felt his breathing change, his hand covering hers where it lay on him.

"Margaret?" His voice was low and rough with sleep. She did not respond. He turned to his head to look at her, his eyes finding hers in the dark. His eyes flickered at the yearning he saw there, blinking away the last remnants of sleep. She came willingly as he drew her to lay on top of him, their chests pressed against each other. He held her face with one hand and the other fanned out across her back. Their desire kindled in an instant, heat coursing through them. His hand moved down to her bottom, gently squeezing there. He flipped them over so her body lay under his and she held onto his sides as he pressed into her.

"Oh god," he breathed.

Their bodies moved instinctively together, trembling in the dark, advancing mapless towards some irrational abyss. Their coupling was less tentative this time, tender yet intense. It carried them gently on a wave of moans and sighs, a rising tide building to a crisis, then crashing chaotically, until the place they reached was a heavenly one, a realm of forms. For Margaret, it was as if her life before now had been a shadow, a reflection on the wall of Plato's cave, and through this marital baptism a heretofore unknown dimension of spotless truth revealed itself.

—-

The gold band glinted in the early morning light. She made several glances at it as John moved about the room, getting dressed for the day.

When he was done, he sat down on the bed and took her hand, running his thumb over the ring.

"I imagine it takes some getting used to."

"Yes, amongst other things," she replied with a coy smile, tucking her hand around his palm. He gave it a gentle squeeze and dipped his head.

"You are alright?" His eyes flashed with a moment of worry.

She pressed his hand reassuringly. "Very much so."

It was a strange sight to have a woman in his bed. She was beautiful there, splayed out under his sheets, warm and inviting. He had been alone for so long. He sighed.

"I'm sorry to leave you this early. I must check in at the mill for a while, but I promise to return in the afternoon. Perhaps we could pay a visit to your parents later?"

Her eyes softened at his thoughtfulness. "I would like that very much."

—

After a late breakfast, Margaret joined Hannah and Fanny in the sitting room. Many of her things had yet to be unpacked, including her sewing basket. Her hands fidgeted awkwardly with nothing to occupy them. Hannah looked up from her needlework.

"I trust you slept well, Margaret?"

Margaret suppressed a faint blush. "I did, thank you, Mrs. Thorn — Hannah. And thank you both for your help with all of the arrangements. Everything seemed to go very well yesterday."

"Aye, that it did." Hannah replied. "I thought we might go over the household accounts later today. There's a great deal to cover about running a house such as this."

"Indeed, and I am aware that I have a lot to learn. I know it will take some time, especially as my mother's health will require much of my attention at present. I appreciate your patience with me and would like it if you continued to lead management of the household, at least for the time being as I adjust."

Hannah was disarmed by this display of humility and grateful not to be too readily swept aside. "Aye that'll do."

"Thank you, Hannah. John and I will visit my parents this afternoon but perhaps we could begin on the accounts tomorrow?"

Hannah nodded in concurrence. "To be sure."

Margaret turned to her new sister-in-law. "Fanny, I wondered if you might be willing to help me sort through the wedding gifts and draft cards in response?"

This was not a task that Margaret would particularly relish but she felt that Fanny might, and wanted to ensure she spent time getting to know her new sister. Although she knew they were different in temperament, she hoped they might find common ground through shared interests such as music and reading. Margaret also thought it would be nice to be around a young woman her own age, reminiscent of the years she spent growing up with Edith. Fanny was pleasantly surprised and flattered by Margaret's proposal, and she cheerfully agreed.

In such a fashion did the weeks pass as Margaret settled into married life. John worked long hours at the mill and it disquieted her at times to feel that she missed him, especially on those evenings when he did not join them for dinner but remained in his office until very late.

—-

Maria Hale's health continued to deteriorate to the point where Margaret spent most of her days at Crampton to help nurse her. One evening after supper, there was a discreet knock at the rear door by the kitchen. Margaret and Dixon looked at one another, confused about who could possibly be calling at this hour. Dixon carefully opened the door just ajar.

"Is Mr. Hale in?" a man's voice called before stepping forward into view. Margaret's eyes widened.

"Frederick!" she cried. "Can it really be you?"

"I'm afraid so," he replied gravely before breaking into a wide smile.

"Oh thanks be to God!" She threw herself into his arms. They embraced for a long time and shed tears of joy.

Once the initial shock faded, Frederick moved to warmly embrace Dixon, who was impatiently waiting her turn.

"Oh God bless you, Master Frederick," she cried. "And just as handsome as ever." She stepped back to look him over. "Cor blimey! You look as though you haven't had a decent meal in ages."

"But, Dixon, you just said I was as handsome as ever."

She blushed. "Oh, you hush now while I scrounge up a plate for you."

"Thank you, Dixon." He laughed at her cosseting before turning back to Margaret, who smiled at the scene. It was a taste of their happier childhood days in Helstone. "And mother?"

"Oh Fred, she is as ill as can be, but she yet lives. You had better come with me. Father is in his study."

For Richard Hale, setting his weary eyes upon his only son again smoothed the deep ridges that charted his face with a father's grief in the years following Frederick's naval misadventure. After Margaret told him of her letter to Frederick several weeks ago he had prayed day and night for Frederick's safe arrival. It was an emotional reunion and the old parson was humbled with profound gratitude.

He was also relieved to be able to speak openly about Frederick to John, whom he had come to care for as a son even before marriage to his daughter made him so. Although it had surprised him at the time, it heartened him to know that Margaret had confided in John as he viewed it as proof of some sentiment existing between them before circumstances compelled them into a hasty marriage.

Margaret left her father and Fred for a moment to pen a quick message to John, asking him to come directly, if he could.

A short while later, John arrived at the house. He heard Margaret's fragrant laughter first, and he smiled softly at the sound. When he entered the sitting room, she was engaged in conversation with her father and a young man whom John quickly surmised to be her estranged brother.

It was a cheerful scene and he was glad for his wife. No matter how much he and Fanny annoyed each other, he could not imagine a lifelong separation from her, such as that which Margaret and her brother were forced to endure. His wife had faced many trials for one so young. To see her happy in that moment stirred in him an acute sympathy towards her.

He was suddenly nervous, and felt almost like an outsider intruding. The Hales had always been a loving, close-knit and tactile family. He did not quite fit in with their easy warmth. Margaret looked up and smiled when she saw him standing there. She crossed the room to greet him, tucking her hand into his arm as she guided him over to her brother.

"Fred, I'd like you to meet my husband, John Thornton. John, this is my brother, Frederick."

Frederick stood. They could not help but regard one another with a natural wariness, not borne out of any personal hostility, but as the habit of two guarded men who had cultivated an ingrained suspicion of strangers as they made their way through the world. Where John was tall and severe, with pale eyes and a dark brow, Frederick was slight of frame and charming, with the freckly tanned complexion of one who spent much time in the sun.

Frederick held out his hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Thornton. Or I suppose I should call you 'brother.' Margaret was just catching me up on her life these past months. She says that you are a manufacturer and run one of the largest cotton mills here in Milton."

John shook his hand. "Aye, that is true. I'm glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Hale. It is good to see you safely arrived back home."

Margaret brought a cup of tea to John and the four of them soon settled into conversation. Frederick shared much about his life in Cadiz, including his work with a businessman named Barbour and his engagement to Mr. Barbour's daughter, Dolores. In turn, he asked John many questions about the cotton industry. Margaret was content to mostly observe, finding it surreal to see her husband and brother conversing, as if two separate halves of her life — her idyllic childhood and her newfound womanhood — had merged on this evening.

John glanced over at her. His expression was unreadable and he scanned her face as if contemplating something. It lasted only a moment before he turned back to her father and brother.

They conversed well into the evening until the hour grew quite late. John announced that he needed to head back to the mill. Margaret rose to leave with him but he encouraged her to stay behind to catch up with her brother. After all, they knew Frederick would not be able to stay in England for long. John and Frederick had already discussed the best way for Frederick to depart Milton undetected, with John's help, when the time came. She would need to savour this brief reunion.

Margaret walked her husband to the door and helped him into his overcoat.

"I am glad you came," she said, smoothing down his lapels.

He nodded quietly, placing a hand on her upper arm, and looked down into her face. "I'll return tomorrow evening. If you need anything, send word and I'll come."

With that he stepped out into the night. She felt a strange ache as she watched him go.

—

Upstairs, Maria Hale's chest rattled as her body struggled with each breath. She felt the life draining from her, yet her mind was at ease as she reviewed her life and prepared it for the Lord's judgement. She was born into aristocracy as young Miss Beresford, the belle of Rutlandshire. Nevertheless she did forswear the lifestyle of a Lady – that which was her birthright – and married as she chose, to Richard Hale, a country parson. Theirs was a humble but happy life in Helstone. But then Providence had delivered unto them profound setbacks, most significantly the excruciating exile of her beloved son, Frederick. Far from rising to these trials with the sort of ascetic devotion required of her as a Christian – and even more so as a parson's wife – she instead slowly crumbled under the weight of these burdens. The move to Milton was the final blow. It had proven too much to bear. Still, although she was not resilient, she had been faithful and her devotion to her family persisted until the end. She took her comfort in knowing that her dear Margaret was taken care of now and that her darling Frederick had returned and she had beheld him once more. 'The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away.' She could go now and be at peace.

—-

The following evening, the Hale family gathered around Mrs. Hale's bed for a final vigil. Her time had come. Margaret steeled herself, bearing up as best she could in dreadful anticipation of what was to come. It was too soon, she kept thinking. It was all too soon.

John was struck by the profound sadness of the hour. He wanted to give Margaret and her family a few moments of privacy as they said their final farewells. He noticed Dixon, who was tearful and reluctantly preparing to leave the room for some task. He knew she was as close to Mrs. Hale as any of her family and discreetly approached her to bid her stay.

"I will go down to put on the kettle," he said. Dixon began to protest but he stopped her. "I can find my way around a kitchen well enough. It'll be but a moment." He glanced once more at Margaret, seated with her eyes fixed on her mother's face, clasping her cold hand. Her father stood grim-faced beside her, while Frederick took up his mother's other hand. John quietly left the room.

He returned a few minutes later and when he did, no one spoke again. Margaret watched as her mother's eyes struggled to blink open. For a brief moment, she looked around her, regarding each person present. Her family. Then her eyes closed for the last time. The rattling sound ceased and it was all over. Mrs. Hale had breathed her last.

—-

Margaret internalized this grievous blow in the same way as she had all other setbacks. She set to comforting others and, indeed, her father and brother looked to her for comfort. Her father was ashen. He heard nothing, saw nothing. Now a widower, he was entirely unprepared for the lonely way ahead.

Frederick was inconsolable at the precious time he would never have with his dear mama, and he wept like the young boy of all those years ago when he first left home to go to sea.

Dixon quickly furnished a tray of tea from the kettle that was already hot before disappearing into her room to grieve the decades-long friendship she had found in her service to Mrs. Hale. They had passed from their youth into older age together. She'd known her longer than anyone else present.

Eventually, Margaret excused herself and went into her old bedroom. There she opened the window and let in the cold breeze, gasping in huge draughts of air. Her eyes were unfocused. She felt as though the floor might collapse under her. Her chest heaved as she struggled to breath. John followed her into the bedroom and understood her state of distress. He latched the door shut and crossed the room in swift strides. He stood behind her and wrapped strong arms securely around her, pressing her back into him.

"Margaret," he spoke softly. "I'm here. You do not have to bear it alone."

She continued gasping heavily for air but held onto his arms covering her. They remained this way for a long time, his voice at her ear, whispering until her breathing calmed to soft hiccups.

"I'm here."

—-

The next day Margaret woke later than usual, depleted from the outpouring of sorrow the night before. She was reluctant to face the day but also anxious to attend to her father and Fred. With that in mind she rose out of bed, but stopped short when she saw that clothes had already been laid out for her. Her pulse quickened. Only he could have brought fresh clothes from the mill for her – with Frederick in the house, he would not have sent anyone else – and come into her room quietly enough to lay it out without disturbing her. She had assumed after waking alone that he had returned to his office to work. Her heart tightened – was he here then?

She dressed and made her way to her father's study. The door was ajar. Inside she watched as her husband sat condoling with Fred and her father. He was offering words of comfort and at one point placed a reassuring hand on Frederick's shoulder before turning to her father, clasping his hand. She could not hear what he said but saw her father's eyes glint with moisture at his words. A meaningful expression passed over his face as he patted John's hand with his own.

She blinked back the stinging in her own eyes. He saw how it had been last night and he was here, carrying some of the burden for her, so that she could come to terms with her heavy loss without the constant pressure to bear up for others. He had come to sit up early with her father and brother so that she might rest. There was no question that she had needed him last night. She needed him even now. And he was here.