Greetings all! And so I am back, writing perhaps because of the wonderful support, and perhaps because of my reaction (all be it late) to Richard Armatage in Desolation of Smaug. Well played sir, well played. So without further ado, and much ado about nothing, here goes!
The morning Margaret said goodbye to her son would be counted among the hardest she would ever face. Dixon stood quietly by while the parents bid their son farewell, giving him dewy kisses and promises to be home soon but did not speak. Margaret cried as she held her son, and John smoothed feathery black hair from his eyes, saying as he did,
"Margaret, you do not have to go. Lennox and I are more than able to carry out what needs to be done."
"John," Margaret drew in her breath, "you remember last time you sailed. Dixon raised Fred and I, she'll take good care of Owen. I just can't..." but she did not have to finish. She could not bear to lose either of her boys but once options were weighed, felt that she would be needed at her husband's side, not her child who would not remember the blink where his mama was gone.
"The cab is here ma'am," Mary announced, interrupting the tumultuous scene from the door. "Mr. Lennox sent that he would meet you aboard the steamer."
"Thank you Mary," Margaret said, and handed Owen to Dixon. John took her hand and with a quiet, "we'll see you soon, my boy," they were off.
In the cab Margaret fought back her tears and the impulse to race back the house, feeling that perhaps if she left now, she would still be able to collect her baby and make it the ship on time. John, on the opposite side of the cab evidently felt the same way, his pensive stare reflecting the village in his eyes.
At the pier they met Henry, and together they boarded the steamer the R.M.S Kismet bound for New York. Margaret had never been on such a vessel; nor, for that matter, had anyone in their entourage, and because of this the majority of that evening was spent touring the promenade, smoking deck, bridge and cabin quarters before they settled down in the meal lounge for what was the best smoked cod Margaret had ever tasted. Even John partook, his oceanic nausea temporarily at bay.
"What a splendid way to travel," Henry said when they had finished the meal, "I hardly feel I am at sea."
"Quite," John replied, taking a sip of brandy, "this much beats the charter we took on our honeymoon." At this Margaret glanced over to Henry who, upon mention of their marriage, had subtly set his jaw and had one hand balled in a fist under the table. John did not know of his colleague's former amour with his wife, for Margaret had not thought it mattered in the end. She was married to John and felt that the ardour would have passed enough for him, an excellent businessman, to place his personal life away from work and hopefully even become successful, lessening the guilt Margaret felt for her rejection. Evidently she was wrong, and she toyed with the idea of what to tell John, for she did not mean to keep it from him, but the stress of losing her baby and the birth of his twin so soon after has been the paramount concerns in her mind; that and helping her husband through his grief for Hannah.
There was a brief moment when John got up to go to the washroom when Margaret was left alone with Henry, who still would not look her in the eye.
"So," she began, attempting light conversation, "are you happy to be going to America?"
"Yes, quite pleased," Henry mumbled distractedly, "but I don't understand why John dragged you along as well. Don't you have a child or... something at home?"
"My son, yes," Margaret did not like his tone, nor the way he said "or something," as if he did not hear John mention his boy every time something remotely relevant came up. "I left him with Dixon, just as my parents did to me whilst they were away."
"And John was happy with this arrangement?" Henry asked, but was cut off by John's return.
"Why don't you ask him?" Margaret pursed her lips.
"Tell me what?" John asked, giving Henry a friendly, questioning look from across the table.
"It was nothing," Henry made it his business to examine the silverware and stood up, "I am tired. Forgive me but I'm going to bed." John nodded and without a backwards glance shuffled from the room.
"I hope it is not the seasickness," John said, taking Margaret's hand with a smile, "I feel quite well. It would not do if we miss another voyage on account of illness."
"No," Margaret replied, "it would not."
"Is something wrong?" John looked level into her eyes, "you seem upset."
"It's nothing," Margaret evaded, not yet sure how to explain her relationship with Henry, "I just feel so tired. It has been a long day."
"I agree," John still did not look convinced, but nevertheless did not force her. A little while later they stood up and went back to their room. Safely inside Margaret, felling something she could not place, threw her arms around her husband's neck and kissed him passionately. She felt she needed to be possessed, so that perhaps Henry would know who it was she belonged to. John seemed surprised for a moment, but after he recovered he kissed her back, taking her in his arms and pressing her against the wall in a heady embrace.
"Oh Maggie," he breathed, peppering kisses down her neck, "how do I deserve you?"
"You always deserved me," Margaret whispered, "it was I who was lucky."
"My dear.." John trailed off when Margaret kissed him again, effectively silencing their conversation and allowing a more intimate language to fill them and make them whole.
When Margaret awoke the next morning she curled close to her husband and thought. She needed to tell him about Henry, but in doing so she might upset him and spoil their trip, whilst in the knowledge John, who could be jealous over her, may abandon the venture forthwith and leave Henry, still stung over her rejection in the proverbial lurch. She knew she could not allow Henry to speak and act towards her as he had done the night before, and so resolved to find him alone and put an end to what could only be a disaster for him. She of course knew that she would never return his feelings, but as long as the hope still lived he could never move on. He had agreed to work with John for some mysterious reason, but it did not mean that their former familiarity could continue.
Dressing slowly and with difficulty (neither John nor Margaret wanted to leave,) Margaret pinned her hair and put on her shoes. John followed her to breakfast, and there they met Henry. He was polite but cold to Margaret, and she considered not telling him her feelings at all, for if she did she feared opening up another conflict, and if things were good the way they were, why push it?
In the afternoon Henry met her on the promenade, but again treated her with the distance of a colleague's wife, not with the probing familiarity of the night before. He nodded, spoke and smiled as he aught to, and so Margaret relaxed, feeling that for the first time in a long while she could simply relax and enjoy herself, not having to worry (but doing so anyway) about anything; not her life, her son or the distance still to go.
And so it went like that for three blissful weeks, until they reached the coast of New York and tensions once again rose. John wished to meet the cotton producers in Virginia and Georgia, but Henry wished to move on to Chicago and meet their associates who had waited so long after the birth of Owen to meet their partners.
There were men in Virginia who wished to show John their plantation and trade, and though he knew what he would find there, John still toyed with the invitation, wondering what ill would befall them if Margaret saw the source of Milton—slaves and poor labourers. Mill workers rights were one thing, but to challenge the backwoods ideals of a country built on the backs of slaves was quite another. If they did not tread lightly in a place like that they would surely find themselves in some sort of trouble that would be hard to wrestle themselves free of. John, for one, felt that he would be better as a father at home than a prisoner of the county on account of his well meaning wife. Margaret knew, of course, the darker side of cotton production, but she too knew that she could not change it, even if she screamed from the tallest building in New York. All she could do was advise her husband on working with plantations where the workers were free men and labourers, not slaves to be carted like cattle for the profit of the rich.
The Oppengarde Plantation was not one of these and John knew it. He on principal would not do business with plantations that enslaved men, but Mr. Zadock Oppengarde had personally approached him in London last time he was there, and insisted on his presence if ever he travelled across the sea. A polite visit, John reasoned, would not be amiss, especially because whether it be free men or slaves, Oppengarde held the monopoly.
Henry was severely opposed to the detour, and though Margaret supported him in secret, she told John that she would follow him where she was needed and was determined not to be a burden. She could, after all, be back in England waiting for him, not taking part in their enterprise. They were scheduled to meet their business associate Glen Jackson in Chicago in three days, which meant a long train journey, and to compound it another week down to West Virginia to visit a man in Wheeling where, John had been warned, Margaret should not go.
The worry was for her feminine, Southern English sensibilities and the knowledge that she had never witnessed true slavery, but, against her husband's advice, she told him she would go. Again Henry protested the trip, but this time Margaret felt, for his own fear of what he might see as much as concern for her. Either way, it would be a difficult time, one in which Margaret was needed.
AN: so here it is! Because the cotton trade was intrinsically linked to the slave trade, this will be a bit of a dance, but if you wish to follow along, I wish to do it justice. What will John do? How will Margaret respond to the dark side of her husbands business? (hint: I WILL update very soon, if you want more. Also, growing opportunities abound)