On Sunday after church, Margaret sat by the meager fire at Frances Street with little Peggy Boucher. Peggy was saying her alphabet out of a small picture book that Margaret had brought her. Observing Peggy in the babies group, Margaret had been impressed by the wide vocabulary and imagination of a little girl who was not yet 4 years old, so decided she would take the time to start preparing Peggy a little earlier than the other children for reading and writing.

Little Peggy's eyes had widened when Mary's beautiful friend had brought her a gift. All of the other children had crowded around to view the prize, but Margaret had insisted they should wait their turn to hold and touch it until she and Peggy were finished.

Peggy caught on quickly. 'Let's read it again Miss Margaret. Let's read it again. The little girl was on her feet and had thrown her arms around Margaret's neck.

Margaret fell back with laughter. 'But we have already read it three times Peggy. Do you think perhaps we could let the other children see the book now?'

Peggy frowned a little and Margaret was undone by her big, brown pleading eyes. Inviting Peggy to sit on her knee, they read it once more. At the end Margaret closed the book, but continued to hold the little girl. 'Do you know that this book was mine when I was a little girl?'

Margaret was rewarded with a huge smile.

Mary who had been feeding the youngest Boucher up until this point looked alarmed. 'Miss Margaret, we cannot take something so precious from you. Peggy, give the book back to Miss Margaret.'

Margaret shook her head and gave the tiny figure in her arms a gentle squeeze. 'No Mary, I want my little namesake here to have it.'

'What is a namesake?' Peggy asked with her usual curiosity.

'It means we have the same name.'

Peggy looked baffled.

'You do know that Peggy is not your real name?'

Peggy shook her head.

'Peggy is a short name for Margaret. Your real name is the same as mine.'

Peggy still looked confused. 'Do people call you Peggy?'

'No they don't.'

'Why not?'

Margaret laughed. 'That is a good question little one. I guess they never thought to. Do you think I look like a Peggy?'

Peggy nodded proudly. Margaret gave her a generous hug.

Mrs. Thornton and Fanny were in the dining-room; the latter in a flutter of small exultation, as the maid held up one glossy material after another, to try the effect of the wedding-dresses by candlelight. Her mother really tried to sympathise with her, but could not. Neither taste nor dress were in her line of subjects, and she heartily wished that Fanny had accepted her brother's offer of having the wedding clothes provided by some first-rate London dressmaker, without the endless troublesome discussions, and unsettled wavering, that arose out of Fanny's desire to choose and superintend everything herself.

Mr. Thornton was only too glad to mark his grateful approbation of any sensible man, who could be captivated by Fanny's second-rate airs and graces, by giving her ample means for providing herself with the finery, which certainly rivalled, if it did not exceed, the lover in her estimation.

'What do you think John. The linen or the silk?' Fanny threw samples of the fabrics on top of the newspaper John was reading. 'And then tell me whether I should go with the ribbon or the lace?'

John put his newspaper down and looked at his sister with forbearance. 'I wonder that you ask me Fanny? If I say the linen you will choose the silk. If I say the lace you will choose the ribbon.'

'Oh why do you have to be so tiresome John? You make materials and fabrics. You know them better than anyone.'

John looked at his mother for support. She offered none.

'Let me see.' John examined the samples carefully. He tried to imagine the fabrics sculpted into a gown. In his mind's eye he imagined the silk, moulding the curves of a female figure. Lace lining the décolleté neckline. A young woman with full lips and soulful eyes…. John handed the samples back to Fanny. 'The linen…and the ribbon.' John cleared his throat and abruptly went back to his newspaper.

Fanny turned on her heel and huffed. Mrs Thornton softly reproached her daughter saying, 'Fanny you cannot expect a man to be interested in such things.'

'Why not Mama? It is not like he will ever marry. I should think he would be glad to help plan his own sister's wedding. '

Unable to listen to more of Fanny's nonsense, John stood and left the room. He decided a brisk walk might clear his head and help firm his resolve one way or the other.

After helping Mary with a small lunch of broth and bread, Margaret donned her hat and quickly embraced all the children before leaving. Closing the door behind her, she heard it quickly re-open and little Peggy call out 'Thank you for my book Miss Peggy.'

Margaret turned to wave and grin at the gregarious youngster. Spinning back around she then came face to face with Mr Thornton.

Margaret felt a sense of panic that she should be here at the exact moment he chose to be. She felt the blood leave her face and fingers as her heart started to race.

The gentleman himself did not seem all that perturbed by her presence. 'Miss Hale.' He tipped his hat and stood on the spot.

Margaret, confounded by this unexpected appearance lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry Mr Thornton, I was just leaving.' Margaret wrapped her shawl about her nervously and made to pass him.

'Don't go Miss Hale. I actually came to find you. I had called at your house and Dixon informed me you would be here.'

He stood tall and formidable in her way. But there was a gentleness to his tone that she had not heard for some weeks. Margaret timidly looked up. 'You were looking for me?'

Considering their surroundings for a moment, Mr Thornton gestured that they continue on in the direction she was heading. 'Are you on your way home?'

'Yes. My father will be expecting me.'

'May I walk with you?'

Margaret suddenly gripped by fear at being alone with him. Hesitantly she nodded.

There was silence for a time as they left the Francis Street area. Margaret comprehended that a lot of mill workers lived in the area and that the Master's presence was curious enough, let alone the Master accompanied by a lady. As soon as the densely populated houses fused into streets of businesses deserted for Sunday leisure, Mr Thornton began to speak.

'My mother,' John smirked 'and Mr Bell believe that I owe you an apology.'

Margaret almost thought she hadn't heard him correctly over her thudding heart.

'I believe I owe you an apology.'

Dumbstruck, she could only manage to stutter a protest. 'Sir..'

'No Miss Hale. Let me finish. I have been selfish. I have thought only of my own feelings and not stopped to consider how extenuating circumstances may have played a part in your actions. Margaret, I am ashamed to say that I judged you without qualification. I am deeply sorry and I hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive me for the way I have treated you.'

Margaret felt in a dreamlike state hearing these words from a man she thought despised her. 'He was..is my brother,' she said in barely more than a whisper.

John stopped and gazed at her sympathetically. 'I know.'

Margaret's brow furrowed for a moment but then she muttered, 'Mr Bell,' as if answering her own question.

'Yes, he told me about Frederick. He helped me understand why you kept your brother a secret from me.'

Margaret was unsure whether to feel embarrassed or relieved. She turned away modestly and continued to walk. John matched her step.

'I want you to know Margaret that I would never have betrayed your trust, had you bestowed it. Your family means more to me than that.' John paused before saying solemnly, 'You mean more to me than that.'

Margaret now felt giddy. She wanted to laugh out loud with the burst of delight she felt at his words. She gave him a side-glance and blushed, a small smile dancing on her lips. 'What else did Mr Bell have to say about me. He really is terrible betraying my confidence like that.'

John grinned, looking more like a shy boy than an influential man of business. 'When he wasn't scolding me for my behaviour he was boasting about your achievements.'

'Oh dear. I hope he was not too ungracious towards you.'

'He is fiercely protective of you and your father. But he said nothing I did not deserve.'

Margaret's tone turned thoughtful. 'We are indebted to Mr Bell for all of his assistance over the years. My father..well Mr Bell has always looked out for us. I do not know where we would be if he had not assisted us.'

John nodded.

'But there is one thing that I am particularly grateful for. I did not feel this way at first, but now I see things differently.'

'And what is that?'

'I am grateful that he encouraged us to come to Milton.' Margaret looked at John, expecting him to be surprised.

'Are you?' John's eyes were searching.

'Most definitely. It is my home now. More than anywhere has ever felt like home.'

'But what about your beloved Helstone?'

'Helstone is beautiful, but it does not hold the claims on my heart that Milton does. I have grown fond of the smoke and the bustle, and the people I have met. I could not imagine being anywhere else.'

John looked pleased with her words. 'I think this town has grown fond of you. There are few people who could have swept into our world like you have done and brought about such alteration. The town is quite abuzz with talk of the young woman who carries herself with the imperial grace of an aristocrat yet wears peasant clothes and champions the poor and unfortunate.'

Margaret chortled. 'Oh please, tell me you exaggerate.'

John shook his head. 'What have they said that you do not merit? Even my mother acknowledges your achievements.'

'Now that is high praise indeed.'

As they laughed together the tensions of these last months began to ease a little.

'Higgins tells me that you have agreed to pay the school fees for all your workers?'

It was John's turn to seem self-conscious. 'It makes good business sense to have children in school while their parents are working. It is good idea on many levels.' John paused to consider his next words. 'I know I have no right to be, but I am proud of you too Margaret.'

Margaret's heart fluttered in her chest. She was still having difficulty believing that this extraordinary moment was real. When they reached the turn to Crampton, she stopped. 'Mr Thornton, would you perhaps like to see my next project?'

John looked surprised. 'Now?'

Margaret nodded enthusiastically. 'It is not far out of our way?'

'Is not your father expecting you?'

Margaret coloured again and shook her head before coyly saying 'You must know by now how much trouble I have with the truth Mr Thornton?'