I am gratefull to whilewewereyetsinners for her great help with this story. Especially for its ending.
Chapter 6
During the last months, each one of Margaret's letters had been like a ray of sunlight and hope for him. John waited expectantly for a new one every day. His mother would purse her lips disapprovingly with every new letter he received from London, but each time she would ask what news it contained. Mrs. Thornton acted like she was unsure what to think about the strange communication between her son and "that southern girl," but even she must have noticed his lighter spirits and good mood after receiving news from London.
In his letters to her, he entrusted Margaret with his troubles, and without going into too much detail he tried to describe them from two points of view – his own and his workers'. Because she had asked him to let her know what was going on with her friends – his workers - John tried to get into their shoes and see their points of view. It soon occurred to him that it was actually helping him in his relations and talks with his crew. He felt he understood their differences of opinion and problems better than he had previously, and he tried to take their concerns into consideration when making decisions. And it worked. His mill operated without internal conflicts. He had many more willing workers than he needed, and they were loyal to him. His conversations with Higgins showed him that even an uneducated man who was working the looms could have interesting ideas about improving and facilitating their work. It would have been a successful time for his mill if not for repercussions from the earlier strike and fluctuations within the cotton market.
One of Margaret's letters briefly froze him into immobility. She had mentioned in a previous missive that she was considering a visit with the last surviving member of her immediate family. When he asked her about him, she wrote him a long explanation of her brother Frederick and his problems with the law. She concluded her explanation with: "I believe that you saw him at the station with me, the night after my mother's death." If usually after reading one of Margaret's letters John was in good mood, this time he was almost ecstatic. He hadn't realized that suspicions about her impropriety had stuck so deeply in his heart. He was so relieved he had told his mother about the revelation. Mrs. Thornton was more skeptical, but even she eventually seemed satisfied with the explanation.
When Mr. Bell bequeathed his properties to Miss Hale and she had become the owner of Marlborough Mills, John decided that he had to be more careful in his communications with his new landlord. He didn't expect any trouble from her side, but he was accustomed to writing her about various difficulties and he didn't want her to feel any obligation to help him. He was afraid that she might think he was mentioning his problems because he was hinting for her assistance. But before too much time had passed it became a moot point, as his financial situation forced him to close his mill. Everything he had spent so long building was destroyed. He was tired, sad, and his pride was wounded, but he also felt like a great burden had fallen off of his shoulders. He had found buyers for almost all of his machinery, which was modern and effective and therefore highly desirable, so he shouldn't leave any debts behind. His only remaining task was to prepare to move from Marlborough Mills.
Two days after he had informed Margaret that he was resigning his lease he received a short note from her, saying simply, "I have received your message. Please pay me a visit at your earliest convenience."
John had thought he would never see her again. His lease of Marlborough Mills was his last connection to Margaret, so he was aware that by giving up the lease he would lose the excuse and the right to continue a correspondence with her. Such an opportunity would never happen again so he grabbed it. Without a second thought he ran out of his office and managed to catch the next train to London.
He knew it was his last chance to meet Margaret again and he traveled with his head full of her images. He wondered how she looked now. Was there still sadness in her eyes? Does she ever smile? Is she still wearing black? It wasn't until the train drew near Leicester that John asked himself suddenly, "Why does she want me to come?"
He knew Margaret's compassionate heart and expected she was truly sorry for him. He prepared himself for some words of condolences or comfort. But he didn't feel himself deserving of sympathy. He accepted his current situation – he had closed his business with dignity and now his longstanding wish, to see her once more, was about to be fulfilled. He felt as excited as a young boy, and impatiently looked for the London station.
Margaret didn't seem astonished that he had arrived so quickly. She invited him into a small sitting room which she apparently used as her study, as there was a desk covered with papers in the corner and shelves filled with books on the walls. She seemed very nervous – there was no sign of her usual calmness. She didn't even invite him to sit down, she just stood in front of him clasping her skirt in her hands and said, looking straight into his eyes, "Mr Thornton, I know that this will be the most improper thing I have ever said, but I have learned that this life is only one we are given and we have to find our happiness where we are." She paused and took a deep breath. "I know you have been having trouble and that in the past our opinions have not always been... unanimous. But I have considered every option and I suggest that we should marry."
John was speechless, but he knew what she was trying to do. He had written her too much about his failure and she wanted to help him and his workers. He certainly couldn't allow her to sacrifice herself. So he stepped back and said quietly, not looking in her eyes, "I am grateful for what you are trying to do, but it is not your duty to help me-" He abruptly stopped speaking as she came closer to him and clasped his hand in both of hers.
"I don't care about duty. I care about you," she said calmly. Her hands were soft and warm and steady, in contrast to his palms which were trembling slightly under her touch.
His head snapped toward her, and at last she could look in his eyes again.
"I always have," she added, and brought his hand to her lips.
John had no words. He could do only one thing – he gently touched her cheek, drawing her gaze back to his, and kissed her to show her his feelings. After quite a long time he told her, "You are right, Margaret. Happiness is where we are … together."