OK, I am on something of a roll here. I wrote this while waiting for my car tyres to be changed, so admittedly the surroundings were not very 'period'. But I had to get it out here, as this is a first of several variations on the same tune, namely how would everyone take the news of Margaret and John marrying. First up is our darling Edith. Wish her luck! LOL
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Chapter 3: Sobs and Sighs
Margaret showed Mr Thornton out and tiptoed back to the room. It was almost time for tea and she had to face her aunt and cousin and break the news of her engagement. Engagement! What a peculiar sound it had – engagement! Suddenly, she was overcome by such violent feelings of complete and utter happiness, that she barely managed to close the door of the room and collapse exhausted on the easy chair. She hid her face in her hands. Engaged to be married! And to Mr Thornton! He loved her still – despite everything – could she deserve such blessedness!? She suppressed a powerful urge to squeal with joy and exultation. 'I must compose myself', she muttered to herself. 'Oh, dear. What is wrong with me? I cannot control myself. I am going mad.'
She stood up and went to the window. But it would not do. Rest would not come. She started pacing up and down the room. Her heart was pounding, her hands were shaking. She clenched her little fingers in tiny fists and tried to contain herself. Right, she had to tell Aunt Shaw and Edith. Before Mr Thornton, John … Her John! Her feet started dancing, she made a little pirouette... 'Right, enough! Stop it Margaret' she scolded herself sternly. Before he left, they had discussed at length how best to break the news. It seemed only natural that she would tell her Aunt and Edith and he would tell Mrs Thornton and Fanny. Little attention was spent on Henry Lennox, on account of John meeting him later today, but they agreed that he should not give him any intelligence. Margaret had not mentioned what has passed between Henry and herself. 'Should I have? But it was so long ago. Surely it would not matter now. But may a woman have secrets from her husband?' she wondered. For sure, she did not want to have any secrets from John. She had quite enough with secretiveness. Yes, she shall tell him, she determined, in due time, when an opportune moment presents itself.
They have agreed that she would tell her Aunt and Edith tonight. John will return to Milton tomorrow to tell the news to Mrs Thornton ('Shy, indeed!') and to Fanny. But he will call upon them in the morning, before he leaves, and meet her Aunt. Oh, there are so many decisions still to be made – when would she be able to go to Milton? Where would she stay? Their house in Crampton was probably already let, and it made little sense to secure a new lease, for what she hoped to be a very short time. But maybe they ought to wait a little, until the mill is running smoothly again. She was sure it was going to be a very busy time for him, and he probably will not be favourably inclined to any distractions. She should keep this in mind. Oh, if only Fred can come to the wedding!
To tell the truth, Margaret was a little apprehensive of talking to her Aunt and Edith. Not that she was afraid of a refusal; her aunt could not refuse her; but she was only too aware of the sentiments the intelligence might induce, the very same she was now ashamed to remember she had harboured not very long ago. She decided to tackle Edith first, as there was a chance she would be easier to persuade, and, once persuaded, Edith would be an ally in convincing Aunt Shaw.
Fortunately, Mrs Shaw was paying a visit at present, and her cousin was reclining on the sofa in the front drawing-room, tired from the previous night's party. Edith sluggishly turned her head when Margaret entered, a little irritated at being left alone for the afternoon.
'At last, Margaret! What ever took you so long?'
'Oh, Edit! I have the most wonderful news to tell you', Margaret approached with outstretched arms.
'News?' Edit sat upright rapidly, her eyes opened wide. 'Has Henry finally proposed? Oh Margaret, this is wonderful news indeed!'
'Henry?' Margaret stopped in mid career, more puzzled than surpised. 'What ever gave you this silly idea? -- No! Mr Thornton!'
'Mr Thornton?' Edith's look registered initial confusion, and then, realizing who Margaret was referring to, deep shock. 'Your tenant? The man Henry brought to my party the night before last? Mr Thornton from Milton?'
'Yes, Edith. The very one.'
'You are joking! He did not! He could not!' Edith whispered in utter disbelief.
'Why Edith! What do you mean? Mr Thornton has proposed and I accepted him!'
'But what about Henry?' Edit cried despondently.
'Edith, are you sure you are well?' Margaret came forward, genuinely concerned, and sate next to her on the sofa.
'No! I am not well. Not well at all', said Edith vexedly. Her voice rose to a high pitch: 'But you were supposed to marry Henry and settle here with us. We were going to live all together and be so happy!" Edith was sobbing inconsolably now.
Margaret gently took her cousin's hand and pressed it gently. Her voice was soft and tender:
'Darling Edith, you cannot possibly expect me, or Henry, for that matter, to marry just for the sake of convenient housing arrangements. I am sure the thought has not crossed Henry's mind, but even if I had married Henry, we could not possibly all live here. This house is not big enough. It is perfect for you, and aunt, and Captain Lennox.'
'And you, and Sholto! And we could always remove to Belgravia.'
Margaret remained silent, watching the golden curls of her cousin bouncing in the rhythm with her sobs. After a minute, Edith raised her teary eyes and pleaded:
'But what about Sholto! He loves you so, Margaret. You are his favourite aunt. He will cry so much!'
Margaret laughed gently: 'His favourite aunt hopes to be around for a long while yet, only a little farther away. But Milton is such an easy journey from London.'
'Milton!' Edith was overcome by another burst of tears. 'That dreadful, cold place! You never liked it. You always wrote how miserable you were when you lived there. I have your letters! I can show them to you!'
'This was a long time ago.' Edith's petulance did not unsettle Margaret. 'My opinions are changed now. And I shall be with someone I love, and close to dear mamma. You are so happy here, because you are close to Aunt and the Captain. Would you not allow me the same happiness?'
'But you don't even like Mr Thornton, Margaret! You always said that he was most disagreeable and cruel, and not a gentleman at all.'
'I was very wrong in my opinion of Mr Thornton' said Margaret, still a little ashamed. 'I did not know him well then. Pray believe me when I say that Mr Thornton is a most wonderful and just man, and a real gentleman. In fact, he is more of a gentleman than many among our acquaintances. Come, Edith, you married the Captain for love, you must understand why I want to marry Mr Thornton.'
'So you love him more than you love us?'
'You love the dear Captain more than anything, do you not?'
'Not more than Sholto! Sholto is such a wonderful creature, the most adorable thing in the world.' Edith sniffed, and began to blink rapidly to dry her eyes.
'I am sure I should love my children as much as you love dear Sholto. But I promise you, I shall come and visit him, and you and aunt, regularly, and of course you will visit us in Milton. Mr Thornton's house is big enough for us all. Mr Bell stayed there when he visited and said it was very spacious and all the rooms were aired regularly. And Mrs Thornton gives such grand dinners, where one meets with the very best of society. I am sure I heard Mr Colthurst the other night speak very highly of Mrs Thornton's dinners. And Mr Thornton's sister loves parties quite as much as you do. She will be very glad to have you as her friend, you know. She has told me how much she loves London. She is around your age and is also recently married. So you see, it is not bad.'
At the end of all this intelligence, Edith was prepared to allow that Milton may be able, after all, to offer her some civilized society, and that her visits there might not be so intolerably dull, and might even be quite pleasant. After some moments, she rose from her seat and sighed:
'Poor Henry! He would be wretched! -- Oh well, it can not be helped now! -- And Mamma? Have you told Mamma? She would...'
Just at this moment, Mrs Shaw chose to walk into the drawing room.
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