I always thought Henry was somewhat unfairly treated. He's a decent bloke with a great sense of humour. I hate seeing him as a mere vehicle for the plot. He genuinely loved Margaret, in his own way, and I feel for him. I would love to see him happy, altho evidently that's still some time off. As to Mr Thornton, I am still caught in his emotions, but there were a few things that puzzled me and I needed to figure them out. I hope it's plausible. Italics denote original text. Happy reading!

-----

Gentlemen and Lovers

Mr Thornton left Ninety-Six Harley Street for Mr Lennox's chambers. The streets were growing busy in the late afternoon. Fashionable ladies and elegant gentlemen, servants and porters, horses and carriages, street urchins, were strolling, rushing, running in all directions, each on their own little errand of business, pleasure or mischief. He navigated his route mechanically, only vaguely aware of the street buzz, his mind excited with the events just past; the delicious memory of Margaret's soft skin and silky hair lingered on his lips. He tightened his hands unconsciously as if he was still caressing her small, delicate hands, her round wrists, so tiny that he could wrap his fingers around them, her long taper digits.

The omnibus passed him but he was too excited, too full of energy, to confine himself even for the easy journey to the Temple. The brisk walk will help him master his emotions, and the cool evening breeze would clear his head for the discussions with Lennox. He tried to account for the events of the last few days, the last two hours; but all was drowned in a whirl of sensations. He had come to London to arrange the affairs of the property. He was dejected, though not defeated, broke but not broken; his strong mind and iron will exhorting him to defy his lot and look for new prospects. He had no thought of her, other than meeting her as an old friend, if the occasion arose, for his feelings, although unaltered, were mastered, and he had given her up and all thought of what it could have been. But he was mistaken and he knew it the moment he stepped into the dining room. She was magnificent – her beauty, even more sumptuous and radiant than he remembered, stunned his senses. It was a bittersweet pleasure to be in the same room with her, for her very presence soothed his soul and gave him peace, yet the reprieve would be short and would leave him ravaged and consumed. She was never more lost to him, more unattainable, than this evening, among this set, her people, of whom she seemed so much a piece. He should not have come and yet he would not have traded this agony for the world. She was dressed in the gold of kings, her coal black hair, strewn with tiny scarlet flowers, rested in a heavy coil at the apex of her neck. One small flower was tucked just above the temple, and invoked the image of a different flower, one of blood, and the day of the riot; and the sensation of her arms around his neck came back in a flash and flooded his heart with misery and pain. Was she mocking him? Taunting him? Showing him again his unworthiness? Telling him he was but a stranger here, the void between them immense and unbreachable? Nay, he would not give her the pleasure of knowing how much she had wounded him. He did not speak to her after the initial cordial greeting; and did not look at her except one brief moment during dinner; when their eyes met and he felt again a helpless captive of her bewitching power, and had to summon all his bodily strength to look away. Still, he was every instant aware of her movements. He noticed that she followed his conversation with Colthurst, as if daring him to say the truth, to admit that he has failed in business, and that he must start again, with his two hands, rebuilding everything and likely not succeeding. So much he would admit, and without compunction, but he would not give her the satisfaction of thinking him a cruel, ruthless master. He had failed not because he was ruthless but because he wasn't ruthless enough. He went to her and without preface said:

'Miss Hale, I had a round-robin from some of my men—I suspect in Higgins' handwriting—stating their wish to work for me, if ever I was in a position to employ men again on my own behalf. That was good, wasn't it?'

'Yes. Just right. I am glad of it,' said Margaret, looking up straight into his face with her speaking eyes, and then dropping them under his eloquent glance. He gazed back at her for a minute, as if he did not know exactly what he was about. Then sighed; and saying, 'I knew you would like it,' he turned away, and never spoke to her again until he bid her a formal 'good night.'

Sleep did not come to him that night. She came instead, in his thoughts, time after time, as a cruel goddess condemning him to a Promethean lot; as a siren seducing him with sweet song, only to repulse him in disgust; as a nymph, running away from him, choosing death over his love. He resolved to leave London that very evening, as soon as he finished the discussions with Lennox. He had to make a choice: give up his lease or relet the property. It was a question of sound business sense: the damages on the first option would run into hundreds, but it was a sure thing; the relet entailed no immediate outlay but was risky and opened him to continual liability. On the other hand, if his fortunes turned, and he was able to start on his own behalf again, he would not be able to find such favourable conditions as at present. While his mind was busy with the complex calculations of pounds, shillings and pence, his heart secretly dwelt on a much simpler, and far more chilling, arithmetic: Margaret or not. Giving up his lease meant giving up all relations to her, and his heart recoiled at the desolation this promised.

The meeting with Lennox went other than expected. Lennox came late and rather distracted. His letters had been confident that there would not be many objections to the discontinuation of the lease, but yesterday he seemed uncharacteristically inconsequent and unsure. Mr Thornton respected Lennox, felt a natural kinship with him, for he recognised a strong mind and a burning ambition, similar to his own, which undoubtedly would serve him well on his way to fortune and success. He probably would have liked him even more, had there not been the knowledge that, in one respect, the young man was already more fortunate and more successful, for he was going to claim her soon enough; or perhaps he already had, as the next appointment being fixed at Harley Street seemed to imply.

But instead of Lennox, Margaret has come, with talk about investments and saving the mill, and all he could hear were the words of his own heart, which commanded him to go to her, to hold her, to never let her go. Had she not spoken, his mind would have prevailed, but as it were, his mind was astounded, his reason stupefied, the dam was broken and his heart would be denied no longer. He reached for her and she responded, and the thought that she was his, his alone, his at last, filled his heart, his mind, his being with ecstasy and bliss. He felt invincible, and as he entered the Temple, life was good and nothing was impossible.

Mr Lennox sate in his chambers, silent and grave, engrossed in his thoughts. He loved Margaret, her beauty, her sweetness, her liveliness, and had loved her, in his quiet steady manner, since the moment he laid eyes on her, almost four years ago. He has hoped she would love him back, and despite the failure of that day in Helstone, he has worked hard to please her and gain her affection. Slowly the frost has melted and warm friendship has bloomed. He would settle for warm friendship, it was the basis from which companionship will grow. He was not one who knew strong passions, he was far too rational, and his mind and personality, naturally mild and balanced, have been further moderated by the ordered manner of his profession.

But Henry Lennox was not stupid. He saw that Margaret's interest in Milton was more than the natural curiosity or concern for friends and acquaintances. He was not sure of the extent or exact nature of her feelings; he suspected she knew not herself. He began to observe her closely. She would never inquire after anyone in particular, but when Marlborough Mill was mentioned, she would tense, her face would become somber and her eyes impenetrable. She never fully acknowledged the compliments he paid her, although she did not fail to understand his meaning. She would occasionally, when in one of her ill moods, reply in that distant, icy manner of hers, with soft words put to savage effect. And yet, lately her reliance on him has grown. He enjoyed her company and seemingly she enjoyed his. He could offer a welcomed reprieve from the silliness of Edith and the blandness of her mother. So he did not think anything of inviting Thornton to Edith's dinner. But the evening left him uneasy. They had hardly spoken, but Margaret's quietness betrayed well-concealed agitation and there was something on Thornton's side – a look, a sigh – that unsettled Henry exceedingly. Whatever doubts he had were quashed yesterday. Margaret wanted to help Marlborough Mills, and although she talked about the livelihood of the workers, and her moral duty as a landlord to preserve it, if she can, he could not shake off the feeling that her chief motivation was not declared. She was firm, almost petulant in her insistence, that he worked out an agreement that would enable Thornton to continue his business.

He felt all slipping away from him. He decided to put it to the touch and hope it would come to the good. If he did not keep the appointment today, Thornton would come to look for him, and how soon he came would tell him whether the gamble has paid off. An hour passed, and then another, and with every other minute, disappointment and frustration settled into Henry's mind and heart, and when Mr Thornton finally walked in, a little before five o'clock, he knew he had lost her.

The men shook hands and, in one brief discerning look, reached a silent understanding. One has gained and one has lost, and there was nothing to be done.

'I beg your pardon, Mr Thornton, for not keeping to appointment. You met with Miss Hale?'

'I did, Mr Lennox. Miss Hale informed me of the proposal. I am come to you to discuss the details.'

The gentlemen sat down and focused on business.

---

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think.