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Margaret took a visit from Mrs. Thornton senior one windy afternoon in her new parlour. The elder glanced around the room, and, with a dismissive sniff said,

"I gather my John has had his way with the room. The furnishings are not London style."

"No indeed not," Margaret replied carefully, surprised at the chilly comment, "but it was my choice you see. He lets me run our home and I let him run our mill."

"Your mill?" Mrs. Thornton scoffed, "it has been his by right since you married, and it will be his child's if you can give him a boy."

"I intend to," Margaret said stiffly. "Mrs. Thornton, has something I've said upset you?"

"No, no," Mrs. Thornton waved a hand dismissively, "only that, I hear, my grandchild will bear no Thornton name."

Margaret almost laughed with relief.

"We have spoken on it," she nodded. "John thinks it a taboo to name a child for its grandparent."

"Tis not!" Mrs. Thornton balked, "I was named for my mother and her mother before her and we were no grand family, I can assure you! What nonsense! Of course John does not think that." She wagged an accusatory finger at her daughter-in-law.

"Madam," Margaret felt her face flush red with anger, "I know my husband, and I know what he has said. We have, however, discussed other names."

"Like what?" Mrs. Thornton continued doggedly, ignoring Margaret's claim on her son, "I am sure they would do nothing if not shame me."

"We are calling our daughter America, after our good fortune with her, or Owen if it is a boy. We originally wanted Timothy and Leah, but we changed our minds."

"America?" Mrs. Thornton squawked, "have you not forgotten our war with them?"

"It was a long time ago," Margaret replied patiently, "and we are not naming her that for glorification. I think its pretty."

"Yes, well my aunt thought calling my cousin Britannia was nice too, and the silly creature ran away to India. I believe she married a raj or something and got eaten by an elephant." Margaret was sure there was no such thing as a 'raj' but did not correct the older woman, nor did she correct her that you could not, in fact, be eaten by an elephant. "Yes," Mrs. Thornton continued, "I love my country, but not that much. I still have other blood yet."

"I am sure you do," Margaret nodded, "but we—," Mrs. Thornton cut across her,

"Owen is nice," she mused, "yes. Name your child that if it is a boy."

"Meaning no disrespect," Margaret replied, "but what we name our child is hardly a concern for a grandmother. Her duty, as you would agree, is to love said child and not discriminate against its parents."

"Oh sure," Mrs. Thornton agreed at last, "but don't you dare call her 'Merica for short, or I shall shoot myself."

"That is agreed," Margaret laughed, calm again in the formidable presence of her mother-in-law.

"You know Fanny is due soon," Mrs. Thornton changed tack, "and her baby is to be named something equally ridiculous. Stanley was the name of our dog for lands sake! I don't care if it was my son-in-law's fathers name, it is just silly."

"John couldn't believe me when I told him either," Margaret smiled at last.

"And why should he have?" Mrs. Thornton replied, "Stanley. What a joke. In that case I dearly hope she has a daughter."

"John hopes it too," Margaret intoned, "he wants us to have the first boy."

"I'll put money to that," Mrs. Thornton agreed. Margaret gave her a scandalized look and the older woman guffawed. "Oh come now, you silly goose! You always knew my John was the favourite."

"Yes," Margaret replied, laying one hand on her swollen stomach, "but I did not think a grandmother about setting wagers on her own grandchildren."

"I can if I want," Mrs. Thornton was unapologetic, "for you see, my dear, when one has lived as long as I, you learn that in age there is safety. I do what I want simply because I can."

"Fair," Margaret shrugged, "but please do not wager on my child. My father, you know, would never have approved, being who he was and what he was."

"Yes, yes," Mrs. Thornton was dismissive again, "but you think John made no such wager? Ha! A mother still knows her son, dear. Your husband is a proud man. He will not pass a chance such as this."

"What does that mean?" Margaret's temper flared again at the smug look on her mother-in-law's face.

"I mean, dear Margaret, that you will be either making a fool of Fanny or a fool of John."

"Fanny is in on this too?" Margaret's eyes widened. "What is happening?"

"We used to wager small sums when we were poor," Mrs. Thornton explained. "Though John was never one for it, he was very lucky, and once, for fun, he wagered what he will wager on you, six pence. He won the game and paid our rent for the week. I wonder what he will give you if he wins.

"You mean, if we win," Margaret corrected her, "I am as responsible as he."

"Not so," Mrs. Thornton replied, "you are more, for you make the child. If he loses you must do what you can to please him."

"Will giving him a child not be enough?" Margaret replied incredulously, half ignoring Mrs. Thornton's ridiculous drivel.

"No no dear, this will be a matter of pride! You must go beyond your duties to console him!"

"I must?" Margaret gave up and played along, "what must I do?"

"You must make him his favorite meal and sit him down. You can tell him your sorry, and then, if he feels, he will forgive you."

"Oh thank god," Margaret forced the smile off her face, "but what if he doesn't forgive me?"

"He will," Mrs. Thornton looked in pain as she said it, "for he loves you. I have known him far longer than you lass. I can tell."

And with that the meeting was over, and Margaret, tired fro the exchange, went to the sitting room and played on the new oak piano for a time until she heard her husband's tread and the sound of him opening the door.

"Good evening Maggie," John said, a smile in his voice.

Even with her vexation with him, she was still glad to see him, and she rushed into his arms.

"According to your mother, you are a beast," she murmured into his jacket.

"My mother was here?" he asked, interested.

"Yes," Margaret pulled away, suddenly remembering the earlier conversation, "and she said you placed a wager if we shall have the first boy!"

"Fanny placed a wager against me," John chuckled, clearly unapologetic, "and I could do nothing but respond in kind."

"So you have no problem betting on our child?" Margaret cried, "I thought you were a frugal man, John Thornton."

"I am," John replied, kissing her head, "but in sibling rivalry, you see, I am powerless."

"Powerless indeed," Margaret pulled away when he moved for her lips.

"Really, Maggie," John grinned, "I don't care one fig if our child is a boy or girl. I know it will be perfect, because you are its mother. You were angry at me over less than a pound."

"I was not angry," Margaret shook her head, "I was merely vexed. There is a difference."

"Yes," John was finally allowed that long kiss, "but you are not vexed any longer?"

"Do not push your luck, dear," Margaret winked.

xxx

That night while in bed, Margaret glanced sidelong at her husband, who was laying on his back, hands behind his head.

"What do you think it will be?" Margaret asked him.

John rolled over and put his hands on her belly. "A—oh lets see, there that shape," he traced the outline of the bulge, "oh, and that one," he playfully poked her belly button, "and lets see, this," he put on ear to her stomach, "so, from all my evidence, we shall have a boy!"

"You really do want your boy," Margaret giggled, giving her husband a look.

"No Maggie! Feel! It feels like a boy!" John's eyes grew wide and honest like a child's.

"How can you tell?" Margaret smiled back.

"Because I was like this once! A man can always tell!"

"But a woman knows for sure," Margaret kissed him. "Anyways, get some sleep, it would do no good to fall asleep at the mill."

"Yes mother," John quipped. Margaret poked him hard in the side and he turned, laughing to her again.

"Oh you!" Margaret cried, "you!"

"Yes, me," John replied, "you know I only joke. I think it would be rather ghastly to have my mother order me about again. I much prefer it when you do it."

"Speaking of your mother," Margaret mused, "you know she is very angry that we aren't naming it for the Thornton's."

"I told you she wouldn't like it," John groaned. "What must I do to save you from her?"

"Nothing," Margaret replied, "I can handle her just fine." She did not mention the comment about the mill, for Margaret knew John's dependance on her was painful to admit, and that his downfall had quite deflated him when he had lost his property. She would not bring it up, because for him, he felt like he had failed in doing his duties as a Master of the time.

"I saw Lennox today," John remembered suddenly, "he will be coming to America with me after the confinement." Margaret's stomach did a nervous flip at the mention of Henry and the voyage to the States.

"Oh?" Her voice betrayed her anxiety.

"I thought about it, Maggie, and decided that we could not leave the baby alone, and sea travel is much to dangerous for a woman in your condition."

"My condition?" Margaret's eyes grew wide, "you never even asked me about it."

"I felt you would agree," John looked surprised, caught in his assumption.

"You should have asked," Margaret argued, "I still wish to go. They invited us both, you forget."

"I know, dear," John skirted the issue, aware that she was growing upset, "but I wanted to take Lennox so you could find a house in the country."

"We are still doing that?" Margaret was blindsided.

"Yes, I thought so. Business is quite good at the moment."

"Not that I would know," Margaret's bitterness returned. "Will you let me see the books? I can be a help to you. You know that."

"I thought you would be busy," there was an uneasy edge to John's voice. "Please, will you let me take care of it?"

Margaret ignored him.

"Are we fighting?" she asked. John made a face.

"We may be," he shrugged.

"The first one of our marriage," Margaret glanced over.

"We cannot agree on all," John moved a stray curl from her eyes, "it would be dull."

"It started with your mother," Margaret commented.

"And ended with...?" John asked.

"Me forgiving you for your awfulness," Margaret joked.

"So I am then? Forgiven?"

"I believe so."

"Good night, Maggie."

"Sweet dreams John."

AN: so I wanted to add that, because guys can be pretty assuming, and no relationship is without dispute. John is a good character but his independence would not just poof away as soon as he was married. Old habits... you know.

Okie, so R&R if you want more! PS, its my birthday tomorrow ;P