Sorry this took so long. I hope you enjoy the next glimpse into Mr. Thornton's thoughts.

John Thornton was not one for giving into the follies of daydreaming. However, it was on this day that he could not stop the frivolous pastime. He had thrice refocused his attention on the numbers and columns in his ledgers and, at least on two occasions, had to correct a glaring miscalculation. His mind, usually a pinpoint of focus and all business was otherwise engaged, entrapped more like it, by the puzzle that was Miss Margaret Hale. How was it that this country southern simple young lady could distract him? He had never given another woman so much thought before. In fact, for the most part, John Thornton looked upon women as a necessary evil: necessary as it would one day be required of him to produce an heir to his holdings and to do so would require a wife. He was not a sentimental man and therefore did not believe that he would marry for love as much as for station and understanding. Station so that his fortune may be maintained properly and so that the lady would have the necessary skills to act properly in society and run a prosperous household. Understanding, so that such a lady would know her place in his life, would be as mother of his children and mistress of the home at Marlborough Mills leaving business and key decisions to him.

John knew many examples of such women. They were all around him in Milton. The refined young and handsome Anne Latimer came to mind when he thought of such a match. Miss Latimer was approximately Miss Hale's age. She was presently away at finishing school in Sweden and due to return by next year. John knew that his mother was secretly harboring hopes that Miss Latimer's return would spark a union that would result in the efficient arrival of grandchildren. No, Mrs. Thornton never spoke of it aloud, but it was implied in her glances whenever Miss Latimer became the topic of conversation. Of course, John realized the prudence of such a match. Mr. Latimer was his greatest lender at the bank. Being his son-in-law would certainly be convenient. And, true, Miss Latimer did possess all the qualities that John would seek in a wife. She was accomplished, pretty, soft spoken and, whenever they did meet, seemed to be interested in him. In fact, John himself, had decided that when Miss Latimer returned to Milton, he would begin a formal courtship and not try to avoid what seemed to be the inevitable. That was until two weeks ago when Miss Hale literally walked into his life on that afternoon at the hotel. The thought of Miss Hale as his wife, however, was almost laughable. It was clear from every angle that she cared nothing for him; in fact, some of what she displayed may have been described as contempt. Still, there was something about this daughter of a penniless, ex-minister that wormed its way into his brain and would not leave him.

John jumped at the sound of the mill whistle announcing that the last shift had ended. He glanced at the clock on the wall and then at his own pocket watch as if not believing that the day could have past so quickly, with so little work accomplished. He looked at his books and growled to himself. "Well, I guess these will have to wait until later." With that, John, closed his books, grabbed his coat and descended the stairs to the mill yard. He had informed his mother earlier that he would be dining with Hales this evening and would only be home briefly to change his clothes. He laughed recalling his mother's confusion as to why he would bother to change into his finery to take supper with such people. John lied that he did it out of respect for Mr. Hale; who was, after all a gentleman. But his mother saw through the mask, even if John would not admit it. His concern of appearance was for the youngest, and fairest member of the Hale family.

"Mother," he replied to her inquiry. "Mr. Hale is a gentleman, and therefore I will show him the respect he deserves by dressing appropriately. Besides, I have yet to meet Mrs. Hale and would you not like me to make a good first impression on our newest Milton acquaintances?"

"I doubt that Mr. Hale is such a gentleman that gives a fig for the fashion of a young man. Mrs. Hale I cannot speak to. However, John, I do find it possible that you are concerned about your appearance to Miss Hale." Mrs. Thornton scoffed.

John knelt down beside his mother's chair. "Never fear, mother, I am afraid that no matter what type of dress I don, Miss Hale will regard me a brutish tradesman. You can be assured that I am safe from any plans that Miss Hale may have for me; for if she does have plans, none of them involve me staying in her presence longer than what is necessary for politeness sake."

"Well then, in that case, I have decided I do not like this Miss Hale from the south. Be careful John, many times what one sees as the truth is but a clever device to conceal it. I do not like this Miss Hale. Her presence in Milton makes me uneasy."

John rose to his feet, kissed his mother on the forehead and chuckled. "Oh, mother, first you do not like her for fear that she would trap me into marriage, then you do not like her because she won't. If only my workers had such blinded loyalty, we would put every other mill out of business. Don't wait up."

Mrs. Thornton waved off his jest, but could not help but notice that ever since the arrival of Miss Hale her son was different. He was often lost in thought and did not answer questions when first addressed. Many evenings he starred into his supper plate pushing the food around without taking a bite. Mrs. Thornton had been a widow for a very long time, but she dared she still recognized the signs of distraction that accompany interest in the opposite sex. She did not believe that her son was yet in love, but she did fear that it would not take too much encouragement on the part of the newest belle of Milton to tip John in that direction. She would need to call on these Hales soon to make opinions for herself.

oooOooo

Without realizing, John's pace quickened the closer he got to the Hale's residence at Crampton. His heart was racing and his palms were a bit sweaty as he pulled to cord for the doorbell. A ruddy faced women of about 50 answered the door. John was actually surprised that the Hale's could keep a house servant.

"John Thornton calling on Mr. Hale." John announced as he tipped a hand to the brim of his hat. The housekeeper looked him up and down with a critical eye that made John quite uneasy. So much so that he felt offended and was about to ask if there was a problem when she finally broke the silence.

"Yes, Sir. The Master is expecting you. Please come in and wait by the stairs. The Hales are in their parlor at the top of the steps, please allow me to announce your arrival." Without his consent, she disappeared up the steps to a room at the right of the landing. John could hear muffled voices and thought that he heard Miss Hale scolding the housekeeper; probably for saying something untoward about their guest. This was new for John; a house servant taking on airs toward someone who is clearly above their station? Is this how servants acted in the south? If so, then he hoped that none of the other former staff of the Hales decided to migrate to Milton. It was bad enough dealing with unappreciative mill workers let alone to have to go home and fall under the scrutiny of the house staff. John was feeling a bit uneasy when the housekeeper returned at the top of the steps.

"Mr. and Mrs. Hale will see you now, Sir. Please come join them in the parlor."

Just Mr. and Mrs. Hale? No mention of Miss Hale. John felt instant regret and disappointment. Not completely sure why he was having such feelings, but they were as clear as the scowl on the face of the lady that waited for him at the top of the stairs. She showed him to the room where the Hales were sitting. A quick glance around the room sent a leap through John's chest for occupying the space was Mr. Hale, Mrs. Hale and in a chair near the window, Miss Margret Hale.

The room was smaller than most in his own home. But somehow, the Hales had managed to make the simple furnishings feel much more inviting than any other space in which John had ever sat. The papers on the walls were obviously new and John felt a sense of pride at being anonymously responsible for the improvement. The prints were soft and light and John mused that he was likely getting a small glimpse into the type of home in which Miss Hale must have spent much of her childhood. This intimate thought calmed John's mind and made him feel as though he owned intelligence that no other in Milton could claim regarding their latest addition. Mr. Hale greeted John with his usual ease and civility.

"John!" Mr. Hale exclaimed. "How wonderful that you could join us this evening. Margaret you remember?" Mr. Hale made a sweeping motion in Margaret's general direction.

"Of course, Miss Hale, how good to see you again." John said as he covered the small distance that separated them. She was standing near the window wearing a simple cream colored linen dress with small pink flowers. A thin gold bracelet encircled her delicate wrist and the fading light of the afternoon sun casted a flattering glow about her face. Her hair, which John realized he had not noticed for it had been hiding under her straw bonnet upon their first meeting, was held in place by several flower-adorned clasps which resembled those on her dress. It was shimmering in the light; dark brown with flecks of red that seemed to dance when she moved. Margaret lowered her eyes and gave John a polite curtsey which he returned with a slight nod and bow. Not able to remove his eyes from her form he realized his impoliteness when he saw Margaret's face flush a bit and heard Mr. Hale clear his throat as if to remind John that there were others in the room that required his attention.

"John," Mr. Hale resumed, "This is my lovely wife, Maria. She was not with us on our first trip to Milton." It was obvious that Mr. Hale was very proud of the women in his life. John, for the first time, thought how satisfying it must be to feel such pride toward another human being; other than ones mother, of course.

"Mrs. Hale, I am very glad to finally make your acquaintance. I hope that you find your accommodations suitable to your tastes." John observed the woman before him. It was hard to imagine that such a lively, strong, spirited creature such as Margaret Hale could have been born of such a tired and delicate-looking person as Mrs. Hale. John was surprised at Mrs. Hale's obvious frailty. She was not near Margaret's height and he was sure weighed no more than a young boy. Her face, although kind in looks, was drawn and pained. He thought how her presence would contrast with his own mother who was the picture of strength and sheer will. He doubted that a friendship between those two ladies would be fast in the making. That would be a shame for he had an unexplainable need to become closer to the Hales.

"Thank you Mr. Thornton. As you can see, we were able to convince the landlord to change the papers after all. Of course they are not as light as those in our home in Helstone, but they are very close indeed."

"I am glad that they were able to pass muster, Mrs. Hale. They do the room a great service."

The introductions were briefly interrupted by the housekeeper announcing that dinner was ready to be served.

"Thank you Dixon." Mr. Hale acknowledged.

"Ah. Dixon is it", John thought to himself. "The dragon lady has a name after all".

The dining room was much like the parlor. Small, simply decorated but somehow inviting and warm. Again, John took a mental inventory of all of the items that adorned the room. The small candle sticks that were positioned at each end of the fireplace mantle, the china hutch and mirror that lined the wall of one side of the room. The other wall was host to a few family portraits, one of which, John presumed was Margaret as a small child. Again, a sense of fascination and something akin to pride overcame John at the realization that he was privy to details regarding Margaret Hale that no other in Milton yet knew. There was another reason for John to delight in the smallness of the dining room. It allowed for a table only large enough to seat four to five people, and therefore placed Margaret directly across from him. Thus, it was that during dinner he tried to remain concentrated on the conversation at hand; ever distracted, however, by the mysterious creature that sat a mere table's width away barely speaking a word. John and Mr. Hale conversed through dinner about the classics, they decided that John would come every Wednesday evening after work to resume his studies and that becoming reacquainted with their mutual friend Plato would be the first order of business. Mrs. Hale added the usual niceties; inquiring about John's mother and sister and asking John's opinion about where the best cloth or fruit could be purchased. Margaret, on the other hand, sat mostly silent only speaking when directly addressed and looking quite uncomfortable at times. After dinner, the party resumed their conversation back in the parlor where Dixon brought a small pot of tea and four fine china teacups. Margaret chose the seat slightly to John's left near the fire which made it difficult for John to spy on her without notice. Mr. Hale sat to John's right and Mrs. Hale sat on the settee directly across working on her sewing. As Mr. Hale and John's conversation continued it moved into matters of the cotton business, the inventive spirit of Milton and the fact that the new machinery and equipment was quickening the pace of the industrial revolution in northern England. As John finished a speech on the satisfaction one feels in the knowledge that they have made something from what started as a mere fluff on the end of stem, he allowed himself to glance in Margaret's direction only to find her fighting sleep.

"But I fear all of our talk of men and industry has bored Miss Hale." John said with a teasing.

Margaret bristled at John's mocking tone and stifled a yawn midway completion. Sitting up straight she apologized.

"Forgive me Mr. Thornton, I am merely tired from the unpacking of the past few weeks." With a forced smile, she stood, reached for the empty cup sitting next to John and filled it with fresh tea. John was hypnotized by her actions. How could the simple gesture of serving tea be so fascinating? He was mesmerized by the shape of Margaret's fingers and the sound that the spoon made as she stirred in his sugar and later laid the spoon on the saucer. Margaret then took the two steps to his seat and handed him his tea. As he reached up and took the cup his hand grazed the length of her delicate tapered index finger. It was the smallest of accidental touches; completely unnoticed by everyone in the room except for the two involved. John immediately sought eye contact to determine whether Margaret too felt the jolt of electricity that now consumed his entire hand, arm and shot through his heart. If she did feel it, she was not owning up to it and John was left feeling foolish at such a boyish reaction to the touch of a mere girl.

"I am sorry, Mr. Thornton." Margaret began as she sat back in her chair. John looked at her a bit puzzled. "For what"? He replied shortly believing her apology was directed toward their brief encounter.

"It is just that as I sat here listening you discuss your work and your trade, I could not help but notice your lack of feeling toward those who work in your mill. I met a young lady this afternoon, Bessy Higgins, she works at Marlborough Mill and she and her family live under the most deplorable conditions. Do you not feel it is your responsibility to see that your workers are well looked after?"

This was not the turn in the conversation that John had expected. He was immediately on guard and did not like the accusing manner in which Miss Hale approached him. "I do what I can to be sure that my workers have a save environment at the mill. There is little I can do past that. I am not here to play parent or guardian to grown men and women and their families."

"But you speak of your machinery with much more regard that you do your workers of flesh and blood. How can you as Master, someone who has always known comfort and ease of life, how can you so easily dismiss their predicaments? You must forgive me for this is not a manner in which I am accustomed of thinking of my fellow man. In the south, we do well to be sure that no family starves or goes without decent clothing or shelter." Margaret's tone had gone from slightly patronizing to completely judgmental with a bit of pride. Her eyes flashing with new found contempt for the man that sat next to her, dressed in all of his finery and speaking of his workers as if they were less important than a spinning wheel or loom.

"Margaret, please, you are offending our guest." Mr. Hale interjected. "John, forgive Margaret, I fear that the move to Milton has stirred some anxiety in her that manifests in strange ways. I assure you she meant no insult."

Although John appreciated Mr. Hale's attempt at an apology, it was too late. He was now concentrating on keeping his anger in check and metering his tone so that he did not reveal his true nature. How dare this girl, this country nobody, come to his city, a city she knew nothing of, and accuse him of such wrong doing and complacency? How dare she, this childish woman, who knew nothing of his past, speak to him as if she was intimate with his true character?

"No need to apologize, Mr. Hale." John began. "I can assure you Miss Hale that my life has not always been as it is today, Master of Marlborough Mill. As a young boy, I was forced to leave school and childhood and face the responsibilities of a grown man. My father, God rest is soul, died under the most miserable of circumstances. He left me, my mother and my younger sister, Fanny, broken and destitute. I was forced to take work in the draper's shop giving my earned wages to my mother. From that she managed to have me save 3 shillings a week, enough, over time to lease the mill and dig my family out of the debt that my father gifted to us upon his death. So you see, Miss Hale, I know exactly what it is like to live in such deplorable conditions, to not know when the next meal will be afforded and to see one's own mother deny herself food so that a younger sibling might eat. I know. I also know that hard work and self-denial can dig a man out of such miserable circumstances. I am giving my workers the same opportunities to better their lives that I was given. Whether or not they choose to take it is their business, not mine."

Margaret and Mrs. Hale appeared stunned. Mr. Hale, observed John, did not look quite as shocked. Most likely, Mr. Bell had informed Mr. Hale of John's miserable past with a father who had fallen prey to a speculation scheme that had gone wrong leaving his family with no money and him taking the coward's way by killing himself. John did not care. It was a large part of what made him the man he was today; strong, self-denying, patient and hard-working.

John stood and shook Mr. Hale's hand. "Well Mr. Hale, I believe I have likely worn out my welcome. I should be getting home to see how my mother is getting on. Mrs. Hale, Miss Hale, thank you for your hospitality. " Intent on not leaving on an awkward note, John extended his hand to Margaret. "Come, Miss Hale, let us not allow our disagreement ruin an otherwise perfectly lovely evening. I would prefer to part as friends."

Margaret was clearly confused by this gesture and instead of taking John's hand cast her eyes away. "Forgive me Mr. Thornton, I did not mean any offense on my part. I believe father is right, I am a bit over anxious by all the change surrounding me. I shall be more amiable when next we meet."

John feeling the slight, retracted his hand and quit the room. At the door he could hear Mr. Hale scolding Margaret for her offense and explaining that in the north, the handshake was a perfectly acceptable exchange between friends. John did not hear her reply; nor did he care what it was. He was exhausted by the evening's vacillations. When he arrived home, he was relieved to find that his mother had not waited for him. He climbed the stairs to his bed chamber, undressed and climbed into his bed. Sleep was not soon to come as John cycled between the touch of Margaret's hand against his to the fact that her unkind words revealed her true prejudices against him. John hated Mr. Bell for cursing Milton, and him, with Margaret Hale.