"Margaret, what is the meaning of this?"
Henry stepped into the room menacingly, his expression radiating outrage. Becky hovered nervously in the hallway behind him. Margaret felt John's arm tense under her hand. She took a deep breath and steeled herself. Deep down, she had known this confrontation was inevitable.
Margaret pressed John's arm gently. She would face Henry herself. In London, she would have been far too afraid. But now, the woman she had become in Milton, with John at her side, she finally felt able to stand up for herself.
"Henry," Margaret spoke in a low, measured tone, as though she was trying to soothe a frantic animal. "I am glad you have come. It gives me the chance to explain. I should have written before now to let you all know where I am."
"Do you have any idea what you have done, Margaret?" Henry took another step closer and John protectively crossed further in front of her. "First you claim you've gone off to visit your old maid – your maid – then Dixon tells us she's not heard from you! Do you know what it took to track you down? I've been to Helstone, Oxford, and now this godforsaken place. What on earth possessed you?"
"This is my home now, Henry. It was left to me by Mr. Bell. I have enough now to live independently, so I need not depend on Edith and Maxwell any longer. I am sorry, Henry." Margaret shook her head. "I should not have lied about where I was. I believed you would all try to stop me."
"Of course we would have stopped you, Margaret. Are you insane?" His eyes were furious. "You are supposed to be marrying me. I've waited patiently through all your endless mourning period, and then you run off to the ends of the earth and I find you in the arms of another man!"
Henry now glared ferociously at John. She noticed Henry did not dare to come any closer, however. She imagined John's tall, imposing form was giving him pause.
"Miss Hale's actions are not any of your concern now." John's voice was firm and low. "This is her home, and you were not invited. You need to leave now."
Henry appeared indignant that John would speak to him. "I will leave with my intended. Margaret, we're going back to London now."
"I am not your intended, Henry. I never was and never will be. I would never have married you, even if Edith had turned me out and reduced me to a beggar in the streets." Margaret's sudden fervor shocked even herself. "You have never truly cared about me, about my desires or wants. You did not care that I have never wanted to marry you. You do not love me and I could never love a man such as yourself."
Margaret had moved out from behind John during this speech and now stood just a few feet away from Henry. He stared at her in stunned resentment, his mouth open, unable to speak. He raised his eyes to John, who stepped up behind her. Henry closed his mouth and set his jaw, clearly comprehending that he had no hope to win here. Margaret felt a renewed gratefulness for John's presence and support. She knew somehow that if she had been there alone, Henry would not have given up so quickly. She did not doubt he would have resorted to physical force if necessary.
"I see. So be it." His eyes traveled up and down Margaret's form with a dismissive sneer. "For the best anyway. If I had known you were a lightskirt I would never have offered for you. I'll have no other man's soiled goods. But too bad I never took a sample–"
Henry's last words were cut off as he was hurled backwards from the force of John's punch. Margaret stood frozen, her hand at her mouth, as she stared at the scene before her.
Henry staggered upright, clutching his reddened jaw and bleeding lip. He gaped at John, who stood ready to deliver another blow, and then glared briefly at Margaret. "Edith will hear about this," he managed to mutter from his injured mouth, before dashing out the door. Becky followed behind, and Margaret knew the maid would be sure the door locked behind him.
Margaret turned to John, who had not moved from his position facing the doorway. She placed a hand gently on his arm. "John?" He turned to her, a raging fire of fury burning in his eyes. As he looked at her she saw the anger cool to tender concern.
"Margaret, are you all right?"
"Yes, I am fine. Come…"
She gently pulled at his arm, bringing him to sit again on the sofa. He followed her without protest. Belatedly she realized they had called each other by their Christian names. She wondered if he had noticed.
As John sat beside her, Margaret looked down at his hand. His knuckles were bright red and he held his hand rather limply. "Oh dear, you are hurt." She reached out to touch him but stopped, afraid to cause him pain.
"It is nothing."
"It is not nothing, you injured yourself. For me." Margaret felt tears coming, much as she tried to stop them.
"I am all right. See–" John flexed his hand. He winced slightly, but displayed full range of motion with his fingers. "Just a little sore. It will be fine. Do not worry." He used his other hand to cover her own. "And I would do far more." He brushed her hand with his thumb lightly. "There is nothing that I would not do for you, Margaret."
Margaret stared at him, too overwhelmed to speak. He steadily moved his head closer and she tilted her own face towards him. Her eyes closed and she felt him rest his forehead against hers.
They stayed in this position for a few moments, neither moving. Margaret felt her heart racing. All else was forgotten. She was aware only of the touch of his skin, his warm breath, his musky scent. He tenderly nuzzled his nose against hers. They embraced these small, intimate gestures, neither in a hurry, both knowing where they were headed and content to take their time in getting there.
John brought his mouth closer, slowly, until Margaret felt the barest touch of his lips. The world seemed to stop in that moment. His lips were soft and warm, gently brushing against her own. He stilled briefly, and she could sense the question being asked; she leaned into his kiss and responded with the answer that sang in her heart.
Their lips met again, his touch more firm, more sure. His hands moved to her waist, drawing her closer. Margaret placed her hands lightly on his chest, feeling his warmth and strength through her fingertips.
She was unaware of time. They may have kissed for a moment or a hundred years. Gradually John pulled back just a little, peering into her face.
"Margaret…" His deep blue eyes searched hers, questioning, seeking reassurance. She placed a hand gently on his cheek and his eyes closed. He pressed her hand to his face.
"Margaret–" He opened his eyes again, and the love she saw there stole her breath. "Margaret, you will marry me?"
"Yes." A giddy, joyful lightness was spreading from her core throughout her being. "Yes, John."
"You will." He seemed unable to believe it. "Margaret, I love you. You will be my wife."
"I will." She laid her head on his chest, listening to his racing heart. "I love you, John."
He held her tightly to himself for some time, both feeling too much to speak, and knowing words were unnecessary.
He grazed his fingers along her neck. "Margaret," he whispered. "I can hardly believe it. That you truly care for me…" He pulled back to look at her. "It seems too wonderful to be real."
She gazed into those riveting blue eyes, feeling a contentment like she had never known. She felt loved, treasured, safe. "Oh, John…" She felt tears gathering in her eyes and let them spill down her cheeks unheeded. "I can hardly believe it either."
John brushed softly at her cheeks with his finger, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket when they continued. "Oh, my love, don't cry."
"I cannot help it." She laughed through her tears as John concernedly tried to dab them away. "I am so happy." She grasped the hand that held the handkerchief and held it to her heart.
Margaret was certain that the smile that spread across John's face was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. He placed his hand on her cheek and drew her closer, capturing her lips with his once again. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning into him.
Margaret lost herself in his kiss, in the caress of his soft lips. She felt herself trembling. His arm wrapped around her and pulled her closer to him, soothing her. Her lips parted, and the kiss deepened, becoming more fervent. With a gasp John pulled his mouth away, still holding her close, unwilling to part any more than necessary.
"Margaret, I–" He sighed and touched his forehead to hers. "As loath as I am to leave you now, I think I must go."
"Must you?" Margaret was startled at how much it pained her to think of his leaving, even for a short while.
He stroked her cheek lightly. "My love…" Margaret thrilled to hear the endearment in his deep voice. "Being here with you alone…" He closed his eyes. "You are too great a temptation."
Margaret felt her cheeks flush and looked down, feeling a secret pleasure from the knowledge that she had such a strong effect on this powerful man.
"We must have some consideration for your reputation, after all. Although I hope we will not need to worry for long." He gazed earnestly into her face. "Margaret, may we be married soon?"
"Yes, John." Margaret laughed gaily. "Yes, as soon as you like."
"We will have the banns posted this Sunday. We can marry in three weeks."
"Yes." She nodded. He kissed her once more, a firm, decisive kiss. When he broke away, Margaret laughed again. She felt as though she would never stop laughing, out of pure happiness.
"I will go then." Despite his words, John did not move for several moments, but simply gazed at her, his expression light and full of love.
"You had best," she replied airily, giving him a flirtatious smile, "for soon I shall never let you go."
This charming reply earned another passionate kiss, before John reluctantly tore himself away. At the door he turned back and held a hand to his heart. "Until tomorrow, my love."
Margaret returned the gesture, and followed with a touch of her hand to her lips. "Until tomorrow."
It was fortunate John knew the route back to Marlborough Mills well, for his eyes saw nothing around him. They were filled only with Margaret. Her earnest, steady gaze when she had been brave enough to tell him of her feelings, giving him the courage to do the same. The flush of her cheeks when he told her he loved her. Her pink, parted lips, longing to be kissed. The sultry, passionate look in her smoky grey eyes after he had done so.
John thanked his long-practiced self discipline that he had been able to leave her this evening. He had not been exaggerating to Margaret that his strong control would be sorely tested with a long engagement. He had kept a tight leash on his emotions for a long time, but he felt that restraint unraveling rapidly. And now that he knew that she loved him, too – John caught his breath – he was glad she had shown no hesitation for a quick wedding.
His delirious haze vanished when he strode into his parlor and nearly ran straight into his sister.
"John! There you are! It's about time!" Fanny's annoyed tone made her voice even more shrill. "I've been waiting forever, what took you so long? I wanted to see you before I left. You are coming to our dinner party on Saturday, are you not?"
The Watsons' dinner… John had put it completely out of his mind. Socializing with his sister and other mill masters sounded like the least agreeable way possible to spend an evening. But nothing could spoil John's mood on this day.
"Yes, Fanny," he gave her a smile. I will attend your dinner." He greeted his mother with a quick kiss on her cheek and sat next to her on the sofa.
"Excellent. It will be a splendid opportunity for you, you know, to regain favor with the other mill masters, after your recent misfortune. Watson says they are all quite ready to welcome you back."
"Are they." John had no care for the other mill masters today. There was only one person occupying his thoughts at the moment.
"Yes, and they will all be there, with all their wives. And everyone will be able to see my new Indian wallpaper. Mrs. Slickson thinks her wallpaper is the finest, but that's because she's never seen mine. And I'll seat you next to Ann, John. She said you were very rude to her the last time she saw you. You must make it up to her and be very attentive at my dinner."
The last part of Fanny's speech finally caught John's attention. "Ann… Miss Latimer? No, Fanny, do not seat me by her." Why had he not considered that the Latimers would be at Fanny's dinner? That was not a meeting he looked forward to.
"Oh, John, certainly I shall seat her by you. You are to marry her, after all. She is quite annoyed that you have been so busy with reopening the mill, you have not come to see her."
John shot to his feet, a sense of alarm stabbing in his chest. "What on earth are you about, Fanny! I am certainly not going to marry Miss Latimer. And she knows it."
"What nonsense, John! Of course you are. It's all been decided. She and I have discussed it hundreds of times."
"I have no idea what ridiculous absurdities you have been spouting, Fanny, but I have never, nor will I ever, have any arrangement with Miss Latimer. I–" He looked at Mrs. Thornton, who was regarding him with sharp eyes. He gave her a small, affectionate smile. "I am engaged to be married. To Miss Hale."
John was pleased to see his mother's look of gratification while his sister began ranting indignantly.
"John! You cannot be serious! Miss Hale? You cannot marry her! She is not even a Milton girl. And you've been all but promised to Ann for ages! What do you mean by this?" Fanny gawked at him in a ruffled snit. "Oh, but I see! Of course! Miss Hale owns the mill. So now you will be master and owner of Marlborough Mills. Oh, poor Ann, she can't hope to compete with that." Fanny threw herself down in an ungraceful heap into a nearby chair.
"Fanny!" John felt a shock of outrage. "This has nothing to do with the mill. I am not marrying Miss Hale for any material consideration."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, of course not. John, you are so horrid. This ruins all our plans." She sighed loudly, her suffering much too great to keep to herself.
"Fanny, I am engaged to Miss Hale and that is all there is to it. You will cease all of this absurd talk of Miss Latimer immediately. You will be civil to your future sister-in-law and treat her with all due politeness. Do I make myself clear?"
"Oh yes, John, perfectly clear. You've never listened to anything I say anyway, I have no idea why you would want to start now. I suppose if you're really insistent about marrying Miss Hale, I must invite her on Saturday. You will be able to introduce her to all the important people in town. I'm sure everyone will be very happy to meet her. Well…" She gave him a look he could not miss. "Perhaps not everyone." With a quick kiss on her mother's cheek, Fanny flounced out the door.
John sighed and turned back to his mother. She rose from her seat and stood before him. "Miss Hale, then?"
"Yes, Mother." He smiled wryly. "I do not think you are surprised."
Her smile widened. "Perhaps not." She contemplated him fondly. "You are happy, John?"
"Yes, Mother." He took her into his arms and rested his cheek gently on her head. "I am very happy."
"Then it is well." She held him for several moments, before pulling back and looking at him again. He could see that her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "And Marlborough Mills will be yours."
John grimaced. "Mother, I am not marrying Margaret for the mill. I am marrying her because…" He blushed slightly. "Because I love her."
Mrs. Thornton nodded, and placed her hand on his cheek. "Aye, I know." She smiled. "You are a good man, John. And she is a fortunate girl."
She turned away and walked to the door. She looked back at him. "But take care… Fanny will not be alone in her opinions."
John crossed to the window and looked down on the empty mill yard. He ignored the tendril of foreboding he felt from his mother's words. He would not let Fanny's foolishness dampen his mood today, on the first day of his engagement. He was too filled with the elation of knowing that soon Margaret Hale would be his wife. His wife. In a matter of weeks she would be wed to him and spend every day with him. Every day here in his life, in his home, in his bed. Nothing and no one would be able to come between them.