January, 28th

Bertha:

I came this afternoon to visit Maria - the prospect of the loss of my friend worries me to sleeplessness... Not wanting to cross the line of what is appropriate I let the daughter and husband be with her, but I try to go as often as they let me.

The moment I arrived I learned that Margaret was mugged yesterday and she seemed truly distraught, so I told Maria that a weekend in London with her cousin and aunt would do our little girl good. Maria and Richard agreed so when she came up from folding laundry we suggested her going on a trip. I reassured I would take care of her assigned housework and after a phone conversation between my friend and her sister, Margaret agreed she would take Friday's evening train and her aunt's chauffeur would wait for her at the station.

Nobody wants Margaret to go outside alone after dark now, not even herself.

January, 29th

Edith:

This is the first time Maggie comes visit since I got married and she went back with her parents. I have so many things to show her, my new home so different to our modest and shabby student apartment! I gather heads with my mother and we decide on taking her clothes shopping and a beautifying session. Maggie's hair is heavy and benefits so much from a good cut! And maybe I can convince her for the first time to have her hair highlighted... I'm bursting with plans and enthusiasm over this weekend. And maybe I'll tell her my little secret, or maybe she notices my pregnancy glow without me having to tell her anything. Oh, we'll have so much fun!

January, 30th

I have to say, Maggie's visit hasn't been half fun of what I expected. Then again, I hear aunt Maria is not very well these days so I suppose she's worried. She didn't notice my tummy isn't flat anymore and that she wasn't the only to skip wine at dinner. She seems distracted, to be honest. So unlike her.

We went clothes shopping and she picked sensible shoes and clothes, which equals boring and ugly. Mother said they were tasteful and appropriate to her lifestyle, but I had my heart set on a pair of pink sequined killers and was a little disappointed. The haircut plan didn't go at all; she has an awful lump on her forehead and roundly refused anyone touching her head. She accepted a pedi and a mani and a foot massage, though. The most extravagant luxury my cousin seems to enjoy is a good foot massage.

She stays in my childhood room at mama's house in Harley Street, and this morning she went out early to meet some acquaintances but joins un for lunch. To be honest, I feel used and quite let down: she dismissed all my little plans to cheer her up and she is oblivious to my own happiness.

After we've eaten some delicious pasta in a wonderful new restaurant Ian discovered, I break the news and Margaret does that thing only she can do. She smiled and hugged me and said she was elated to be an aunt, but the thing when you hear Margaret telling you that she feels happy for you, is that she makes you feel that today the sun rose just for you. She makes you feel that special.

Mama says Margaret is unaware of her immense charisma. I don't know about that, but before she got on the train she apologized for having been so inattentive. That just about melted my heart.

Sylvia:

After Margaret left from her morning visit I went out to join Mel in the terrace. The visit was unusual; Margaret, normally cool and collected, was very upset and cried in my presence for the first time since we reunited. I felt touched by her inner turmoil and warmed by her affection and her trust.

Melanie raises her head from the potted bushes she is working on and smiles at me. I approach with a folding seat and sit by her side. I know I won't be breaching Margaret's confidence by talking to Mel about what I have just heard.

- "How is Margaret?", she asks me. "I thought she had a bruise on her face, didn't she?"

- "Well", I reply, "the girl leads a busy life. Seems that she goes to the gym on the evenings, and on Wednesday night as she was leaving the premises, saw that in the parking lot a man was about to attack another one from behind. She said she knew the victim didn't have a chance to repel the attack, so she ran and hurled herself at the attacker."

Mel raises one perfect eyebrow and wipes the sweat from her forehead.

- "Does she see her action as courageous or stupid?", she asks.

- "As stupid, absolutely, but said she felt responsible for the victim's life if she simply stood and watched. She said the adrenaline rush took over her and all it left in its wake was embarrassment."

I fan myself with a magazine, and continue my story. I'm yet to get to the most interesting part.

- "She did thwart the attack but got a good beating herself. The would be victim took care of the situation and the attacker ran and disappeared, then the ambulance and police came and she went through all of that but didn't call home. The next day she told her parents she had been mugged and had been to the hospital and etcetera, but she didn't say exactly what happened."

Mel stops working on her bush and she straightens to give all her attention to me.

- "This man, the one that would have been attacked, went to her home the following day. It seems they knew each other because this man is a student of Richard's, Margaret's father, and Margaret says she always thought he didn't like her at all", I continue.

- "But she was wrong", Mel guesses.

- "It seems so. He showed up to thank her for interfering, and he then he invites her out on a romantic date".

Mel is smiling and so am I. "Wow", she says.

- "Yes, wow. Margaret thought he was doing it out of pity, but then it downed on her that he was genuinely interested", I add.

- "I wonder what's his name", says Mel in low voice, almost to herself.

- "I think she said Jonas or John Thornton", I reply after a little effort remembering something Margaret mentioned only once and didn't want to repeat.

Mel's eyes widen. "Double wow. What did she say?"

- "Margaret said their acquaintance had been quite rocky so far and that she got really angry at him, lost her head and told him a few very rude things. She sent him packing, no doubt about that," I pause a little to catch my breath. "I don't know what things she said, but she cried when she got to this part."

Margaret's tears were of shame and repentance, and she quite didn't realize it but of confusion too.

- "Do you think she's in love with him?" asks Melanie as if reading my thoughts.

- "No, but she might, eventually", I reply. "So you know this John Thornton. Please tell me more about him," I request holding Mel's hand, now free of the gardening glove.

As a financial advisor and manager Mel knows a lot of people I have never met, so I'm not surprised she knows him. Besides she lived in Milton for a while so she could have met him or his family.

- "He's the owner of Marlborough Mills Repair Shop and one of your largest tenants, Sylvie. He's about thirty-five but looks older, and is..." Mel pauses and raises her eyebrows eloquently, "quite the manly man. Do you remember little Sophie had a crush for years on that rugby team's captain? Well, it was him." How could I forget Melanie's niece's tears of unrequited love? She had given up on him only after she had met her now husband. "He's tall and has a massive frame," Mel's hands describe something enormous, "with deep voice and soulful grey eyes." Mel smiles at what she says next, "I meet with him for the lease renewal, and he might not have a college degree and can be quite the ogre if he wants to, but he's a really good person. Intelligent, fair and devoid of vanity. A rare blend if you ask me. I'm surprised Margaret thought he disliked her," she frowns and purses her lips thoughtfully, "maybe she didn't see through the brashness, our St. Anne's girl."

Melanie lets out a throaty laughter and I join her, because we sometimes can't believe how Margaret emerged from the epicentrum of all things snobby and frivolous as such a lovely and sensible girl. Then again Margaret is made of good wood and it seems that nothing could corrupt her.

-"Maybe it's that she's really young and confused", I try to defend her. "You say this Thornton is a good man but looks like an ogre".

Mel nods, deep in thought. "Not meaning that he's ugly, only that you need balls of steel to go against him. In that," she adds with a smile "they are a perfect match in character, don't you think?"

-"Maybe too perfect," I say and smile but soon it's replaced by tears. Mel squeezes back my hand and kisses my forehead.

-"I miss her so much, Mel. I'm happy with what she gives me, but..." I trail. I cannot put my wishes and regrets in words and it's not truly necessary.

-"It's alright, honey." Melanie knows me and gives me the comfort my heart needs. "It's alright."

Margaret:

John Thornton is on my mind, constantly. I don't seem able to think about anything or anyone else. I'm on the train back home and I replay the words we exchanged, but my memory plays games and I don't remember anymore what was said or thought afterwards. What did really happen that day? He mentioned feelings, what feelings does he have, or used to have for me? For how long? Whenever he had been countering my arguments, what was going on with him? I never thought he took me seriously, how could I be so wrong?

I look at my reflection on the window and I try to see my face the way he sees me. I am filled with regret for my hard words but I don't regret turning him down. That invitation was not for food, not just at least, and it had been heartfelt. Otherwise, why would he react like he did? That slam on our door almost broke its windowpanes.

My mind goes on its own to my cousin's wedding, when I turned Henry down. Henry is used to hide his feelings and he's the master of slick... did I hurt him this badly too? If I did, I am so sorry.

I try to think about my mother, about the two babies that will come to our family soon, but John Thornton's face and the echo of his voice interrupt. "Alright", I think, "I hadn't realized your eyes were green. I thought they were gray. And thank you for coming this Saturday for your lesson, my father needs them more than you can suspect. Or you do. Well, thank you anyway".

I enjoy being on my own on this train scattered with empty seats, and I ready myself for being back. My father is waking up from his sleep, and it's good but it's also tough because he's aged about twenty years in the past five days. I put on my headphones and practice relax breathing the rest of the trip. Sometime I fall asleep and I wake up in Milton. I open my eyes and see Dixie's stout form huddled against the night mist on the platform, waiting for me.

I'm glad to be home.