"A mighty pain to love it is,
And 't is a pain that pain to miss;
But of all pains, the greatest pain
It is to love but love in vain."
― Abraham Cowley,
Chapter Three: Gifts
The trip to Crampton was two miles, and John thought to himself as he made the familiar trek, he would make the walk every day, regardless of the weather, if Margaret were waiting for him at the end of the journey. The walk tonight was bitterly cold, and heavy snow had begun to fall again.
Dixon answered the door, and after taking his hat and coat, showed him up to the study. John was pleasantly surprised to see both Miss Hale and Richard already seated.
Richard rose to greet his friend.
"So good to see you, John! It has been too long." The two men shook hands.
Margaret stood and offered her hand to Mr. Thornton. She blushed deeply when their hands touched. She kept her eyes shuttered beneath her lashes so he could not see what she was feeling.
Margaret was wearing a different black gown from earlier today; this one was adorned with black lace around the high neckline and sleeves, and it suited her well. Dixon had dressed her hair and had added two beautiful silver combs. Margaret had wanted to look her best for Mr. Thornton. She felt nervous in his presence, but she endeavored to hide it. Even though she knew she had lost his good opinion; she would treasure what time she could spend in his company and be glad of it.
He had never looked more handsome, in her estimation. The winter wind had flushed his cheeks, and his dark blue cravat and waistcoat matched the deep blue of his eyes.
"You are looking well, Miss Hale."
"Thank you. How is your hand, Mr. Thornton?"
"Much better, and I'm sure it will heal in a few days due to your attention."
If Richard Hale had not been so mired in his grief, he might have detected an attraction between his daughter and his friend. Both young people were dressed far finer than necessary for this visit. However, he was too lost in his own thoughts to notice such details.
Richard did appreciate John Thornton's visit, but after a half hour or so, he found any efforts to participate in meaningful conversation more than he could manage. Margaret noticed her father fading and attempted to maintain the conversation; keeping both men's teacups full.
John felt such sympathy for his dear friend. Clearly, the death of his wife had been a heavy burden to bear. John could only imagine, but the very thought of losing Margaret from his life, even with their estrangement, was too much to even contemplate. He vowed to be a better friend and to make his visits to the Crampton house more frequent by resuming his lessons.
John could see that Mr. Hale was tired, so he stood up to take his leave.
Margaret found Mr. Thornton's attention to her father heart-warming, but not surprising. He had shown himself to be a compassionate and caring man when her mother was so ill. It was then that Margaret came to know a vastly different John Thornton than the hard mill master that she first believed him to be. She felt the pangs of regret that permeated her thoughts so often now.
"Richard, I will be back to see you soon. I have missed our lessons and would be happy to discuss Plato with you next time I come. We could pick up where we left off several weeks ago."
"Yes, John, I would like that very much." Richard stood and shook his young friend's hand, and in a move that surprised John, Richard laid his other hand over the joined hands.
"You are like a son to me, John. Your visits, whenever you can find the time, mean a great deal to both me and Margaret."
John was touched by Richard's words, and responded, "I am honored that you consider me so, my friend."
When John turned to Margaret, he saw tears in her eyes. She smiled at him before lowering her eyes and told him she would see him out.
Margaret handed him his hat and coat. He took a deep breath and began to speak, "Miss Hale, after the incident at Outwood Station, I asked you for an explanation for what I saw that night. Do you remember?"
Still casting her eyes down, Margaret quietly replied, "Yes, Mr. Thornton, I remember it well. I am sorry I could not tell you more, but the man you ask me about was in danger, and the price of my honesty could have been his life. My father and I know your first duty is to the Crown, not to your friendship with us. We did not want to put you in an uncomfortable position."
She kept her eyes lowered.
"Miss Hale, may I speak freely?"
Margaret raised her face to him to meet his eyes. "Of course, Mr. Thornton."
"Miss Hale, I should have listened to you when you told me that things were not as they appeared. The Margaret Hale I know is guided by a strong moral compass, and I should have trusted what I know of your character. I ask for your forgiveness."
Margaret could not speak, overwhelmed by his words, so she nodded her head in assent.
Margaret felt tears pool in her eyes. He had no idea the magnitude of the gift he had given her this evening. To know that the one who mattered most to her did not think so ill of her was a balm to her broken heart. Still…there was the lie she had told the inspector, and surely, he thought less of her because of it.
"Mr. Thornton, the man was family. It is best that I say no more than that. Your trust in my character means a great deal to me, and I can assure you that it is not misplaced. Thank you."
More than anything, John wanted to take her in his arms. She stood before him, her arms wrapped around herself, needing to be held, but he did not have the right.
John shrugged on his coat and took his hat in hand before turning to leave.
Margaret asked him to wait a moment.
From the little stand in the foyer used to collect mail, she withdrew a small package wrapped in brown paper and tied with a yellow ribbon.
Shyly, Margaret handed him her gift.
John held the little package in his hand, confused as to why she would be giving him something. Margaret could see that he was surprised and offered an explanation.
"Mr. Thornton, our home is warm due to the kindness of a gentleman this family is fortunate to call our friend. It is but a token gesture, but it is given from my heart."
"Thank you, Miss Hale, and you must call on me if there is anything you need at all. I am at your service."
Margaret offered her hand to him, and he took her small hand in his.
"Mr. Thornton, your visits to our home are all we could ever ask. We will look forward to the next time you come to see us."
John slowly released her hand, and when he felt his fingers brush against hers, he noted small calluses on her hands. "Good night, Miss Hale."
Margaret smiled at him and wished him a good night as well.
On the walk home, John took his time. He wished for a confidant to talk to. John wished his own father were still living to advise him. John had never loved a woman before, or even been interested in a woman before the beautiful and passionate Margaret Hale came into his life.
Since that last day when he had confronted her about the man at Outwood and she refused to give him a satisfactory explanation, they had been estranged.
Today at the mill, and tonight at Crampton, he felt something had shifted between them. When he told Miss Hale that he trusted the woman he knew her to be, he saw both pain and relief on her face. Surely, she felt something for him if his good opinion of her mattered so much.
He had to do things right if he were to have any chance of moving forward with her.
Even though it was both late and growing dark, John decided to pay a visit to his father's grave. He knew the path well, and the winter moon, high in the night sky, helped to guide his way. John stood before George Thornton's headstone and in the privacy provided by both the lateness of the hour and desolate location, John spoke aloud to the man who left this world when John was more a boy than a man.
"Father, I wish you were here able to have this conversation with me. There are things a man needs to speak with another man about. I am quite without friends in my life, save Richard Hale and Higgins, and I cannot discuss Margaret with either of them."
"I love her. I cannot put into words how much she means to me. When I asked for her hand after the riots, I ended up yelling at her instead of giving her the pretty words a woman wants to hear. Words she will remember her entire life and maybe even share with her own daughter someday."
"Loving Margaret has awakened things in me I have never experienced. I do want to go back to my life before I understood a man's love for a woman, yet the woman who owns my heart does not want it. What do I do, Father?"
John knew there would be no answer from the grave, but he felt his father's presence. As he turned to leave, John thought he heard his father whisper to him, "Don't give up, Son."
John shook his head and looked around. Nobody else was nearby, so it was just his imagination. Still, those words comforted him.
He whispered into the night air, "Thank you, Father."
John walked to the mill house and stopped by his study before joining his mother in the drawing room. He carefully took the gift Margaret had given him from his pocket and untied the yellow ribbon. In the wrappings, lay a beautifully embroidered handkerchief. Margaret had monogrammed his initials, and the letters JT were enclosed by a wreath of yellow roses. It was exquisite and priceless to John. He held it to his face and inhaled the faint scent of lavender and roses that was his Margaret's.
He felt the stirrings of hope beginning to bloom in his heart. Surely, she would not have created this for him with her own hands if she did not think well of him. He had been mistaken before, and the result was devastating. No, it was simply a gesture of friendship, and he would accept it as that and nothing more.
He carefully folded the paper, the handkerchief and ribbon and placed them in his breast pocket before leaving to greet his mother.
He patted her shoulder and sat down. "Are you well, Mother?"
Hannah detected a change in her son. She knew his every mood and there was lightness in his voice that had been missing since the riot. From her perch overlooking the mill yard, she had not missed Miss Hale in the yard with the Higgins girl. Nor had she missed her son's expression as he watched Miss Hale leave the yard. Her boy was clearly still besotted with the girl.
After the Outwood Station incident, John had asked his mother to never speak of Miss Hale again. She had failed on several occasions, only to incur her son's displeasure for having done so. She was afraid his heart would be broken anew and was determined to speak to him about protecting himself from more pain.
That conversation would have to wait until after dinner.
During the meal, John seemed preoccupied in his thoughts, and Hannah was contemplating the best way to approach her son about Miss Hale. After dinner, the pair went to the drawing room, and Hannah closed the door behind them so they could speak in total privacy.
She turned to her son and said, "I am worried about you, John. It is clear to me that you are still quite attached to Miss Hale. You must put your feelings for her behind you, John, and look to the future."
John sighed, determined to be patient with his dear mother. "My love for Miss Hale, unrequited as it is, is an intrinsic part of my being. Just as my love for you, Father, and Fanny is entrenched forever in my heart, so is my love for her."
He met her eyes and said, "Mother, I need you to accept that."
Hannah scoffed. "Why should I accept it? She is unworthy of you, John! You need to consider marrying one of the many Milton ladies who would welcome your attention."
John expected his mother's reaction. "Mother, I want more than to be satisfied with my life. I want happiness as well. When I met Miss Hale, I knew that if I had her as my wife, my life would be complete. I have loved her since I have known her. My deepest wishes may never come to fruition, but I could never marry another woman. I would not be the man of honor you raised me to be if I did."
He was a stubborn one, her son, but she did not relent, "She has a lover, or have you forgotten that?"
John's jaw hardened as he looked his mother directly in the eye.
"She does not, Mother. The man was a relative who came to say goodbye to Mrs. Hale. I know Miss Hale to be a woman of strong moral character, regardless of the tittle-tattle."
John stood up and went to kneel before the woman who had guided him through the darkest years of their lives. "You must trust me to know what is best for my life, Mother. I have long ago become a man. I know you are trying to protect me, but I do not want to live half a life because I am too afraid of pain."
John leaned over, patted his mother's shoulder, and kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, Mother."
After hearing her son ascend the stairs to his private rooms, Hannah Thornton laid down her sewing, blew out the candle, and retired herself. If he would not listen to her counsel, there was nothing more she could do. She only hoped that her son would come to his senses and realize that Miss Hale was not the right woman for him.