Hey, new chapter! Umm… Yes, I would not be able to do it without incredible editor soccer4fc, LittleBeth-S. I would also like to thank Kayran for all the help she was able to give so far, even if real life demands become overwhelming.

Anyway, here it goes:

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Error of Judgement

By Ikuko

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Part 7. Mrs. Thornton.

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Thornton looked at his old teacher with heavy anticipation. The man had a theatrical talent, probably essential for any good public speaker, but at the moment his indecipherable expression was torture for Thornton.

'As amusing as it is to see you nervous, John, and a rare occasion, too…'

Thornton had an ally though: Margaret, noticing his tense face, gave him a little nod of comfort. Thornton signed with relief.

'Sir you can make anyone nervous.'

The bishop probably sensed the little communication and smiled

'Why, thank you. I consider it a great advantage in my work. You, however, were always a little harder than most, even as a young boy back at Rugby. Except for that occasion when the goat inadvertently turned up in Mr. Andrews' wardrobe…' the Bishop raised his hand to stop Thornton from objecting. 'Yes, I remember, you said it got lost.'

Thornton could feel the disbelieving glances of Margaret and Mr. Tully on himself, but he held his eyes steadily trained on Bishop's face. The Bishop smiled again warmly. 'In any case, there is no point in games. John, I admit, I could not quite give you the credit yesterday.'

'And today?' asked Thornton warily.

'Today I don't believe you gave enough credit to this young lady,' smiled the Bishop.

Thornton persisted:

'Will you marry us?'

'Yes. I have every reason to believe that your mutual devotion is steady and of long standing. However much you have stumbled along your way, your goal was true, and I would be honoured to welcome you to your new state of matrimony. Well, let us get started, I have issued the license,' he waved a sheet of paper filled with his slanted script. 'I am sure Reverend Tully is kind enough to take care of the rest of registration formalities. Mr. Tully, I think you can bring the registry now.' Mr. Tully disappeared in the vestry and returned with the large book in dark binding. While he was busy entering the names of the new couple, the Bishop continued conversationally:

'I suppose there is some justice. Take heart. Consider your financial troubles are a token compensation for what you gain here, so that other mortals would not be tempted with excessive envy.' Thornton grinned wryly, while Mrs. Thornton pulled herself up in haughty disapproval. However, she refrained from saying anything.

'Do you have rings?' the Bishop asked suddenly.

'No.' He had not thought about it. He looked at Margaret from the corner of his eye, but she seemed perfectly unperturbed.

'Ah. Is there anyone to give the bride away?'

Thornton knew his old teacher. Everything was a test, the old man's sharp eyes managed to see the reactions of everyone. They did not miss Mr. Tully's face arranging into a kindly smile of benevolence in preparation to accept the charge, and how it soured slightly when Margaret turned to Nicholas Higgins in his worn and stained fustian; nor did it go unnoticed Higgins' embarrassment and near-panic, that forced him to retreat along the passage from the unexpected honour.

Margaret did not persist; a new thought knitted her brow and she turned to look at Thornton in earnest contemplation. She seemed to reach her decision:

'No. I will hide behind no man. It was my choice, my love and respect that have given me to Mr. Thornton. I will not burden anyone with the pretence of giving me away and I wish for no greater sign of the union than the right to be by his side and bear his name.'

Mrs. Thornton's expression of haughty disdain slid into thoughtfulness and the Bishop almost grinned at Thornton.

'You do not need to look so smug, John', he said. 'I am sure you did nothing to deserve it. Just be grateful for your luck and do not crow over less fortunate. '

The full realization of the reality of the events suddenly hit Thornton as he was standing by Margaret's side in front of his own old teacher, answering his questions in a somewhat hoarse voice and hearing her replies in tones so composed and serene it was as if she was a hostess of a formal evening. She was here, by his side, promising to stay there forever. Only yesterday morning he was tormented by doubts, jealousy, and utter misery. And today - everything had changed in less than a day! He knew beyond doubt that she loved him, as much as he loved her. He had no rival in her affections. He knew the taste of her lips and the smell of her hair. He felt that he was holding his happiness as if some fragile, sparkling vessel, afraid that it would slip out of his hands, break and disappear in a rain of bright, sharp shards. But for now it seemed to be holding. Mr. Lynn smiled at them benevolently, and Mr. Tully advanced his congratulations. It was done, they were married. This woman was his and he was hers for as long as they lived. No one would be able to take her away from him now.

He searched for some ways of expressing his gratitude to the Bishop, but the old man waved off his words of thanks.

'I hope I will see both of you in Manchester soon. It was a pleasure. I would really like to renew our old friendship and to get to know your good lady better. But it is a long way home, John. I have to make haste if I am to see my own family for dinner tonight. I wish well to both of you.'

The bishop shook hands with both Thornton and Margaret, and bowed to the elder Mrs. Thornton in reply to her civil farewell. They saw him to the carriage, and earned some surprised looks from passers-by. There would be rumors tomorrow, but for all he cared now they could announce it from every tower and city corner.

His mother coughed discretely to attract their attention and started walking toward Marlborough Mills, implying that they were to follow. Higgins, who was staying well at the back of all the proceedings, excused himself saying that his break was almost over. He slammed his hat back on his head with an air of great determination, intending to walk off, but then Margaret came to him and kissed his rough and not at all clean cheek. He was deflated instantly and muttered something about wishing joy to both of them. They watched him hurrying down the street, his ears flaming red.

'John?' Margaret asked with some hesitation.

'Yes, Mrs. Thornton?'

She smiled.

'It will take time for me to get used to that name. It has been too firmly associated with your mother for so long.'

'Yet that is your name now.'

'Yes, it is, but I called you John and you were not averse to calling me Margaret so far.'

'I love calling your Margaret. But let me savor the idea of you now being. Mrs. John Thornton for a little while.' He said, watching her blush. 'So what did you want to ask?'

'Ah. About that goat, was it really lost?'

'Of course it was,' said Thornton somewhat irritably. 'When Solton and I shut it in the closet, it did not know where to go.'

'You did not.'

'It was a good ripe old buck,' Thornton reminisced happily. 'Old Andrews' robes were stinking for weeks.' She was still laughing when they came to the Marlborough gates.

His mother was true to her word. A small but almost formal luncheon served for three was in the dining room when they came in. The conversation was strained but civil, and he was at a loss for how to break the ice that was creeping in from every side. As it happened, he did not have time for it, either. Before they finished the meal, Williams was announced in the drawing room. Thornton excused himself and left the two women he cared for most alone in wary silence. Yet the news Williams brought could not wait.

The American bank that was supposed to transfer the payment from a buyer did not answer their request. It was not known now if the debt could be recovered at all. Even worse, the cotton supplier they had used for years sent a letter demanding the payment for the shipment in cash, no longer trusting in mill's credit. Both letters arrived in the same morning mail, and now Thornton needed to sort out this new calamity. There was no money readily available; all was secured for the next week's payroll. They always bought on credit, Thornton's word being as good as gold. Losing that was unacceptable. He needed all his ingenuity to come up with a solution. He could dig into his last reserves, but he did not want to risk it without some insurance. He would have to talk to Latimer sooner than next week. The banker should be back tomorrow night; Thornton could talk to him on Saturday before the bank would close operations for the day. So far the banker was very accommodating, perhaps more than Thornton would have expected. It was not out of the common way, but there was a chance that Latimer was motivated by more than a mere chance of future profits. He seemed to look with a friendly eye every time his daughter and Thornton happened to be in the same company.

Miss Latimer was not a bad girl as they go. He always thought of her as a better polished and less sincere version of Fanny. In his own way Thornton was very fond of Fanny, and it helped him to deal with Miss Latimer in a brotherly way. She was good natured enough, just one of so many Fannies of the world. Her increasingly heavy hints bothered him a little. It would be a relief to be known as a married man and free from all the games on the part of the likes of Miss Latimer. He would never need to feel awkward again faced with mindless but pointed flirtation.

Thornton hoped that Latimer's business dealings were not materially affected by his desire to marry off a daughter. If the banker would not extend the loan, he would be in a deep trouble. After such a rejection, the next loan would be possible only at exorbitant interest. All hope now was on the deal that was coming through the American bank, and the payment still had not come through.

It took him more than two hours to resolve this new crisis and to assess the day's working of the mill. At least they would meet the latest order. It was a small consolation in the face of many deadlines that they had to miss because of the strike.

When he returned, his mother and his bride were still in the dining room, though all traces of luncheon were long removed. Mother sat in her usual working chair and he was mildly surprised not to see any work in her hands. He listened to the conversation for a few moments with growing dismay. On the brighter side, it was conducted in the same trustful curt way that his mother used to talk to him, and rarely to anyone else.

Though he could see the rigid set of his mother's shoulders, he was pleasantly surprised when she addressed the younger woman "Margaret". Thornton certainly hoped that she would, as time passed, but to hear it so soon was a good sign.

On the downside, the theme of their conversation was less than pleasing to Thornton. They were talking about Margaret temporarily returning to Crampton, before moving in permanently. He did not like that at all. He was reasonable enough to realize that Margaret walked here only in the dress she had on, bringing nothing but a small purse that could hardly accommodate anything more than a handkerchief, but surely there could have been another way.

'Certainly Margaret's things can be sent for!' he interjected, trying not to show his disappointment.

'Martha does not know where everything is,' Margaret thought aloud. 'Dixon will not return until tomorrow morning. There is much to do; returning to Crampton is unavoidable sooner or later. I cannot simply come here and send for my things. I will have to talk to Dixon, and understand what has to be auctioned and what needs to be moved. I would like you to help me sort through Father's books and decide what to sell and what your library can accommodate.'

"I am sure it can wait for a few hours, until Dixon returns.'

'I suppose so. However there are more urgent obligations. I have not yet written anyone about the change in my situation. I feel I must write my aunt and Mr. Bell as soon as can be.'

'Then you should to do it now, before the post is collected; you will miss it if you would go all the way to Crampton. No doubt you can write your letters here, it is your home, Margaret. I am sure you are welcome to use the small bureau in the drawing room.'

His mother looked at him questioningly, but did not say anything. She got up to precede Margaret to drawing room. But as soon as she left the room Thornton caught his new bride by the hand and pulled her in for a brief kiss. They were married for more than three hours now, and yet he had to struggle to be alone with her even for a moment!

Margaret, looking slightly dazzled, gave him a shy smile and disappeared after his mother. He walked to the window, trying to collect his thoughts. His mother's work basket was on the floor by her work chair, the embroidery hoop tucked carelessly on top. He noticed that there was an inch-long tear in the delicate fabric; as if the silk thread was pulled so hard it cut through it like a knife. Yet the conversation of the two women when he came was as civil and friendly as he could have wished for under the circumstances. What had happened here while he was away?

Curious, he drifted toward the drawing room. Mother had opened the bureau for her new daughter-in-law and apparently provided her with writing things, nodding away quite thanks. She moved away, but not before suddenly reaching her hand up and adjusting the corner on Margaret's white lacy collar that got somehow turned up during their brief interlude behind the dining room door. Thornton felt that his feet were suddenly glued to the floor. Mother never did it to anyone but himself, not even to Fanny, ever since his sister learned to dress herself. He really needed to know what happened in that dining room in his absence.

Mother passed him on her way back to the dining room, her head held high. He turned and followed her, leaving Margaret to her letters.

'Mother?'

'Yes, John.' She said in a tone of voice that discouraged excessive curiosity.

He did not know how to ask her, any direct question would be unthinkable. Instead, he told her about his dealings and the troublesome letters that arrived this afternoon. They quickly returned to their usual, brisk and honest way of talking, discussing the possible avenues of actions and retrenching. Mother picked up her work, and continued to stitch busily as if no tear was ever there. Indeed, as he looked after a while, there was a fresh new leaf curling along the place where the tear used to be. Not a word was said about the interesting events of the morning, or the new family member in the other room, until during some pause in the conversation mother reached down for her scissors in the basket, and while her face was down and he could not see her expression, said:

'I wished for a Milton girl for you, but she is as good as any of them. She has her spirit and her own mind. Just give me some time to get used to it.'

He knew better than to ask anything further. Whatever happened while he was away, was between the two of them, and seemed to break down some walls that divided the two women he loved the most. They must be left to sort out the rest by themselves, and he could trust their hearts and generosity to get it right.

The silence was poised crisp and fragile between them. They did not need to see each other faces to feel the closeness between mother and son. It incorporated all the trust and reliance on each other that they accumulated over the years, and slowly, like a growing tree, shaped itself over the new events. It could take a long time, but it would absorb all changes and become stronger.

The silence was interrupted by the bell ringing downstairs. Mother looked at him questioningly: they had not expected any visitors. A bell ringing at a time like that might have meant more trouble at the mill. Thornton set his jaw in apprehension of more bad news.

The voice suddenly heard from the hall was not Williams, though. It was Fanny in one of her more anxious moods. She entered in a flurry of ostentatious silks and plunged in without any small talk:

'Mother! Did you hear the rumours flying around? John? Do you know what they are saying?'

'No, dear,' said Mrs. Thornton mildly. 'What distressed you so?'

'Mother, you will never believe it. They are saying that John has married that Miss Hale! Today! You would think that his sister would know about any such thing first! I was trying to dissuade them, but you know the tittle-tattle, you cannot make them stop! Can you imagine such nonsense! And Miss Hale of all people! Really!' Fanny huffed in a most indignant way. Thornton and his mother exchanged an exasperated glance, but the matter could not be kept secret any further. Mrs. Thornton got up and walked to her daughter, laying a placating hand on her sleeve.

'My dear,' she started, but was interrupted by the return of Margaret from the drawing room, ready letters in hand. She was a little confused to find Fanny's unexpected presence there, but bravely faced her outraged sister-in-law.

'Good afternoon, Mrs. Watson.'

Fanny was not long at a loss for words.

'Miss Hale? You are here? So it is true. John, mother, why did you not say anything?'

'Fanny, be sensible. There could not be much of announcement. Mr. Hale has passed away only last week, a public wedding in such time is unthinkable.'

'But… But I am John's sister! You could have had at least the courtesy of telling me!'

Thornton came to his sister and gently laid his hand on her arm.

'Fanny, calm yourself. I am sorry I did not tell you earlier. Will you forgive me?'

It took a little consoling but eventually Fanny was cajoled out of her offended mood and started to realize the benefits of being at the centre of the newest talk in town. She needed to know all the details that no one really wanted to divulge. She tried several different approaches to wheedle out all the interesting particulars, but eventually despaired in the three sticks in the mud in front of her. Neither her brother, mother nor her new sister-in-law were amenable neither to the pleas of the curious kin, nor horrors of shame if the scandalously rushed wedding was not properly explained to local gossips. Poor Fanny had to resort to the lesser joys of coaxing her mother to have a wedding dinner at the very least, family only. If ordering the new clothes and parading them in front of all her acquaintances was not to be had, she would at least be able to tell that she was part of such exclusive and mysterious event as her brother's secret wedding.

Mrs. Thornton prided herself for always being prepared for any eventuality that her son's business or his friends' visits might bring at any time. Yet a dinner for five would require an additional dish or two, so she rose to give the instructions to the kitchen. When she was almost at the door, a new idea struck her and she turned to her new daughter-in- law.

"Mrs. Thornton,' she said in a rather formal and haughty way, "I expect you are to step into the responsibilities of the lady of the house from now on. Would you like to join me in these duties?'

Margaret looked startled for a moment but with her usual composed demeanor met the hardened eyes of the older woman.

'I am sure that there is much to learn,' she said quietly. 'I do not expect to be able to replace your in the fullness of your duties right away. I would appreciate if you could continue as you were at least until I would understand enough of the house to be of real use.'

The older Mrs. Thornton, who was not prepared for such mildness, only shrugged in response. Thornton felt her soreness over the change in the position: to all the world, Margaret was now the lady of the house that his mother had ruled unchallenged for so long and cared for dearly. To her, Margaret was but an intruder, who in one sweep took away her son's affections and the command of her own home. Yet Margaret was able to feel it as acutely as he did, and offered the older lady a chance to retain her position without refusing her own new duties.

The two women looked at each other for some moments, the older one with defiance, and the younger with understanding. Thornton sensed that some reluctant truce had been reached while he was away, one to which he would never have admittance. He looked after their retreating figures with strange curiosity.

Left alone with his disgruntled sister, he found refuge in busying himself with dispatching the letters that Margaret had prepared for her family. As he rang the bell for a servant, Fanny decided that she also had a duty to write some notes as soon as can be, to secure her privilege of admittance to the most intriguing mystery in Milton. She demanded writing materials, as well. Though such a jealous strive to be at the head of town rumours annoyed Thornton, her occupation suited him very well indeed.

'It is too bad that Watson is away,' she fretted 'John, if you would have told me earlier, it would be so much more appropriate if he was here.'

Thornton said quiet thanks for not telling Fanny earlier. The situation was uncomfortable enough without the presence his somewhat silly and pompous brother-in-law. As soon as Fanny immersed herself in her trifling news, he quietly stepped out in the hall and waited at the bend of the staircase.

In a very short while he heard light quick steps and reached out to grasp his wife's hand. If she was startled, she did not show it in more than a quick intake of breath before she fluttered into his arms. They both knew that they did not have much time before the servants and Mrs. Thornton would return, but these stolen moments held a childlike charm for them.

'How was your inauguration into the lady of household?' he whispered when their lips separated. She scrunched her nose:

'I do not think I will be taken seriously any time soon. I think it will make everyone happy if I would be a figurehead for as long as possible. Your mother seemed quite pleased with my ignorance.'

'I am glad you can bear it with such good humor.'

'It is true, as you well know. It is her home. She has every right to be unsettled with an intrusion of a stranger. I wish I could let her know that…'

They were interrupted by the sound of steps on the bottom of the staircase and made it to the dining room before his mother ascended the stairs. Fanny looked up at them from her notes with suspicion, but did not say anything as Mrs. Thornton entered in her usual solemn manner.

The dinner itself was more a formal than cheerful affair. Both Mmes. Thornton were civil but spoke as little as politeness permitted. Fanny's chatter was so plentiful that little effort of conversation was required from the other ladies indeed. She had news for her mother and advice for her new sister-in-law; she had to tell everyone about the new paper she used for her drawing room decoration and the new furniture she was ordering. Thornton rarely before appreciated his sister idle chats as much as he did that evening: trivial as it was, it had the advantage of an endless supply of trite subjects that eased the awkwardness of the meal. So it was with better graces and warmer feeling that he saw her to her carriage at the conclusion of the evening. He stood on the stairs of the house for some minutes after she drove off, enjoying the remaining warmth of the spring night and reflecting on the events of the day.

He was on his way back to the dinning room when he felt a tag on his sleeve. He turned to see Margaret's shy and blushing face. She seemed to begin saying something, but he gathered her in his arms once again and pulled her to him for a kiss. Was she waiting for him as he was waiting for her? He did not care at the moment.

'I… I think it is getting late,' she said at last a little breathlessly. 'I should be going too.'

'Please stay. You are not a guest. This is your home.'

'I will have to talk to Dixon tomorrow.'

'The London train does not arrive until ten in the morning. You will have plenty of time. You can go after breakfast. Don't leave your husband alone on our wedding night.'

'You make me explain such awkward things, John. I did not bring anything with me to stay the night. Not even a nightgown.'

He himself felt the heat of his gaze as his eyes bore into Margaret's.

'Oh…' was the only thing she managed to say when she understood his meaning, and she blushed so much that even her ears were glowing bright red.

'Was that your only concern?' he asked with a gentle mocking.

'Oh, be sensible. I am not sure I can… I would need a maid,' she looked into his uncomprehending eyes and decided to make it plain: 'Martha helped me dress this morning, and she does not believe I am properly dressed without three dozen pins all over me.'

'As a former draper's assistant, I resent that implication.' He said it earnestly, but spoiled the effect by grinning. She giggled, still quite flushed.

'Please stay, Margaret.'

She smiled, looking at him bashfully:

'You ask like a child for indulgence. I am your wife, John, I…'

She did not have a chance to finish, because he captured her lips again for a quick kiss.

Childish, she said. Indeed he felt younger than he could remember in years. The strain of the morning, the struggle of the afternoon, and the awkwardness of the evening, all that fell off of him, and his world became as simple and happy as in his long forgotten childhood.

Laughing, he caught her hand, and stepped backwards, pulling her after him.

'Come,' he said in the merry tone of voice he had not used since he was nine, 'I will show you my room.'