In the days since Margaret had walked with Mr Thornton, little else had preoccupied her thoughts. And as her anger at him diminished, she began to measure her own blame in their latest disagreement.

Whilst she had no wish to amend her convictions, she now saw that she had been wrong to speak them aloud – particularly at that moment. She was deeply ashamed of the satisfaction she had felt at reproving Mr Thornton for his prejudice towards Nicholas Higgins. Though she may not agree with him, Margaret comprehended that he was entitled to feel wronged by the union and, by association, Nicholas Higgins.

He must think her conceited for believing herself qualified to judge him. And perhaps she was being conceited. She did not know why she was so disposed to arguing with Mr Thornton. She had no inclination to debate Nicholas's worthiness with Slickson or Hampson or Watson. But for some reason it was important to her that Mr Thornton should be above reproach: that he should be a man of correct and just opinions.

Margaret was confused by her own curious fixation with Mr Thornton. The rest of the world seemed to have faded into insignificance by comparison. Margaret felt guilty that her mother - and even poor Bessy - did not seem to merit her notice when Mr Thornton could be contemplated.

Margaret also felt a sadness and regret that she had been the cause of a disconnect between her family and Mr Thornton. He had not been to the house since that day, nor made contact except for a hurried note to say that he was so much engaged and that he could not come to read with Mr Hale as planned. Her father was depressed and sad at this partial cessation of an intercourse which had become dear to him; and he would sit pondering over the reason that could have occasioned this change.

Margaret had almost determined to go to Marlborough Mill but she was not certain that Mr Thornton would be of a mind to accept another of her apologies so soon.

But when should she see him? Her heart leaped up in apprehension at every ring of the door-bell; and yet when it fell down to calmness, she felt …sick at heart at each disappointment.

On one such occasion the door-bell heralded a visit from Nicholas Higgins. Standing on the step, he had 'slicked' his hair down with the fresh water; he had adjusted his neck-handkerchief, and borrowed an odd candle-end to polish his clogs. Margaret heard him ask for her with a strong Darkshire accent.

After insisting he remove his boots, Dixon ushered Higgins into the sitting room. Margaret observed that he looked more uncomfortable than she had ever seen him. He stood before her, shifting between his grubby feet. He clearly had news that he was impatient to tell.

'Nicholas sit down, please. Would you like some tea?'

Nicholas laughed nervously. 'No Miss, I don't expect a fine lady like yourself to serve me tea. No, I came to give you this.' In his hand was the old black bible that Margaret had read from; its cover worn and tired from being cradled in poor Bessy's cold fingers as she lay on her deathbed.

Margaret found it hard to swallow, the emotion of the gift fairly overwhelming her. She smiled at Nicholas, her expression speaking the words that she currently could not find.

'She loved you Miss. I thought you might want something of hers to remember her by.'

Margaret walked forward two paces and embraced the surly man, kissing his cheek. Nicholas blushed and pushed his hands into his pockets to busy them.

'Thank you, Nicholas. As much as I will treasure this, I can assure you that I do not need it to remember Bessy. She was a good friend to me, I will not forget her easily.' Margaret ran her fingers over the volume and thought of the day she read from Revelations. The day she had been to Marlborough Mill.

'But it is not just this that brings me here today Miss. I had a visitor this morning.' Nicholas almost seemed triumphant. 'You will not believe who, even when you hear it with your own ears.'

Margaret smiled at the animation on Nicholas's face.

'Mr Thornton. Mr Thornton of all the men showed himself at the door of Nicholas Higgins!'

Margaret almost felt faint. 'What did he want Nicholas?' she asked anxiously.

'To offer me work. Can you imagine that Miss?'

Margaret sat back down on the settee. 'I must say I am shocked Nicholas. But what did he say to you? Did he tell you why he came in search of you?'

'No, Miss. But I thought it strange though, for I remember that you told me to go and see Thornton. The day in the street just before Bessy passed. But with all that happened…' Nicholas stopped short to contain his grief.

'And was he civil?' asked Margaret.

Wiping his eyes quickly, Nicholas smirked. 'He was not uncivil. He told me straight that I was to come sharp to my time, and that he would have no laggards at his mill.' Nicholas looked more serious. 'He gave me fair warning that if he was to catch me making mischief – as he called it – he would send me on my way.'

Margaret wanted to know all that he said but concealed her eagerness. 'And you have accepted the work?'

'I could not refuse it Miss. No-one else will hire me. I am surprised that Thornton will.' Nicholas grinned. 'But I gave him fair warning too. I said to him "that when I seed yo' going wrong, and acting unfair, I'd speak to yo' in private first; and that would be a fair warning. If yo' and I did na agree in our opinion o' your conduct, yo' might turn me off at an hour's notice.

'Upon my word Nicholas..' gasped Margaret, 'that was bold of you.'

'Ay Miss, but don't be alarmed by my impertinence. I promised him that I am a steady man that will work hard and always be honest. And when you think about it,' Nicholas chortled, 'it is not possible that we could think worse of each other is it? Our association can only improve from here, don't you agree Miss Margaret?'

Margaret gave an uneasy laugh. 'Yes, I suppose you are right Nicholas. I suppose you are right.'

The news from Nicholas gave Margaret hope that Crampton would soon receive a visit from the Master of Marlborough Mill. However the anticipation of such an event ate away at Margaret's forbearance. She tried her best to occupy her time with the care of her mother: Margaret would often read to her or tend to her small needs. Dixon was quite bemused at how proficient Margaret became in starching and pressing and how energetically she applied herself to the daily chores.

Her lot as a woman sometimes frustrated Margaret. Men had business or occupations to toil away their time. Women were bound to their homes in solitude and confinement, with little to do but entertain their worries and concerns when troubled.

Even now as Margaret sat by the fire re-reading one of her favourite volumes, she seemed unable to focus; her thoughts too preoccupied with the loss of loved ones, of friends, of…

'Chew on your lip any harder Miss Margaret and you will do yourself injury. You don't want your smile to be lopsided now, do you?' Dixon had wandered in to take away the tea tray and tidy the sitting room.

'Leave that Dixon, I will take it to the kitchen.' Margaret noted that Dixon appeared agitated.

'No I will Miss. I want to make sure that the room is spic and span before our dinner guest arrives.'

Margaret was puzzled by this announcement. She knew of no prior engagements. 'Dinner guest?'

'Why your father would invite his friends to dinner when his wife is as sick as can be is beyond me. Seems right inconsiderate of all of us…'

'Dixon,' Margaret said more sternly to get the servant's attention, 'who is coming to dinner?'

'That Mr Thornton.' Dixon sniffed. 'We barely have enough groceries to feed the four of us let alone a great lumbering man like 'im. Suppose I will have to get out the best China.'

Margaret felt her heart race erratically in her chest. Glancing at herself in the mirror in the China cabinet she observed how unruly she looked from the day's work.

Dixon noticed it too. 'And you had better carry yourself off upstairs and fix yourself for dinner. A respectable young lady, a Beresford lady would never be seen in her day clothes at dinner.' Dixon frowned as she fluffed pillows and straightened books. 'Even for a dinner with a tradesman.'

Margaret bristled at the older lady's reference. 'Mr Thornton is a highly respected businessman in this town Dixon. And he has been very good to us. Please ensure you remember that in your treatment of him.' Margaret sounded harsher than she meant to.

'You have had a change of heart Miss. I thought you did not like him?' Dixon studied Margaret.

Margaret was flustered by this line of questioning. 'It does not matter how I feel. He is father's friend, and…and…he has been very good to us..'

'Yes, you said that already Miss.' Dixon smirked.

Margaret decided to change the subject. 'Will Mamma be taking her dinner in her room then this evening?'

'I imagine so.'

Margaret chewed her lip again. 'She has been asleep for much of the day today, Dixon. That cannot be a good sign, I think.'

'Don't you fret Miss. After I have served dinner I will see to your mother. If you are needed I will be sure to let you know. And besides, you know she is always drowsy after Dr Donaldson has been.'

Margaret nodded unconvinced. 'I will check on her presently.'

'Miss Margaret, before you go,' Dixon looked uncomfortable, 'have you heard from Master Frederick yet?'

Margaret was taken back. 'How did you..?'

'The mistress speaks of it. You know, I think that is why she is still with us. She wants to see him again, one last time. I think she is holding out in the hope he will come.'

Margaret felt ill at the thought of Frederick risking his life to see his dying mother. 'No I haven't Dixon. I'm not even sure if my letter will have reached him yet. It is not three weeks since I sent it.'

Dixon looked at Margaret sympathetically. 'Go get ready Miss. I need to see to the soup.' Before leaving the room, Dixon forced a straight face and said, 'your pink gown would do well tonight I think.'

Margaret guiltily felt her heart skip a beat.