HOW DO YOU SOLVE A PROBLEM LIKE MARIA?

Chapter Three

Gently prising the baby away from her, she settled Maria in John's arms, his face lighting up as he cradled her, his large body a cosy shelter for one so small. Thankfully, even though the baby was still grumpy, she had managed to calm down just a fraction, the child allowing herself a brief break from her shrieking so that she might regain her strength before starting up all over again in a minute or two. However, all of a sudden, something miraculous happened. As she shifted from one parent to the other, Maria opened her eyes, and as she caught sight of her father peering down at her with awestruck affection, her crying ceased in an instant.

As she parcelled her floret lips and her rosy cheeks dimpled, her parents could have sworn that their baby girl smiled, just for a moment, even if it was perhaps too soon for such things. But then again, Maria was no ordinary baby, no, she was half Thornton, half Hale, and such a combination meant that she was quite extraordinary, and a young lady such as her could surely do whatever she put her little mind to.

'She misses you,' Margaret disclosed, 'she really does. She knows you, John, she knows the smell of you, the sight of you, the sound of you. She knows when she is in your arms, and I think she misses you when you are not here. It seems that she is her father's daughter, and you are as much the apple of her eye as she is yours.' Margaret then let out a merry laugh. 'I think you must have a hold over us Hale women, Mr Thornton, since we cannot help but fall in love with you,' her joke causing her husband to smile smugly, the man thinking that there was no finer knack he would rather boast.

As Margaret watched the way John stared down at his daughter with unveiled adoration, the woman could not help but beam from cheek to cheek, her heart bursting with such immeasurable happiness to see her husband so smitten with his daughter. When Maria had been born, Margaret could confess that she had fretted for a second or two that John might be disappointed, that he might love her less because she was a girl, and somehow he would feel let down by his wife for delivering him a daughter rather than a son, a prize which most men coveted. Deep down, Margaret had known that such anxieties were preposterous since both she and John had talked of how they would be as equally delighted with their child regardless of its sex, so long as their baby was healthy and happy, and preferably coming out with ten fingers and ten toes.

Still, as a woman, Margaret had found that she had experienced an innate twinge of worry on the matter when the doctor had announced that the first in line to the Thornton throne was in fact a girl, a princess and not a prince. However, Margaret's apprehension had been short-lived, because from the moment John clapped eyes on Maria, it had been love at first sight, and there was no doubt that he was besotted with his babe, and whether it was a girl or a boy was neither here nor there, because John was a father at last, and that meant more to him than anyone would ever know.

As Maria's tiny finger clenched John's in a surprisingly strong grip, (her father's daughter, to be sure), Margaret laughed yet again. 'Perhaps I should be jealous, husband,' she started, feigning concern, this causing John's eyes to dart up and gawp at her questioningly, the devoted husband's brow furrowed in puzzlement. 'It would appear that I now have a rival for your affections,' she quipped, nodding her head to the beautiful girl in his arms to clarify her meaning and alleviate his misgivings. 'It appears that another girl has entirely stolen your heart away, and I fear that I shall never get it back,' she sighed wistfully, an impish gleam in her eyes.

John smiled broadly, the lines of his previously tense temple now creasing in relief. 'Aye, woman, it is true, I will admit that I love many a Thornton lass, one my mother, one my sister, one my daughter. But believe me when I say that there will always be a special place reserved in the most hallowed chamber of my heart for the one who looks after it for me, my wife,' he contended fondly as he reached out a finger to move a stray strand of hair which had fallen over Margaret's eyes, the man tucking it behind her ear and then chuckling as it disobediently fell right back down again, his wife's curls just as wonderfully uncontrollable as her untamed character.

'And I imagine you will be just the same, Meg,' John foretold as he rocked his baby rhythmically, the father having perfected his pace and turning it into a fine art. 'If we ever have a son, I am certain that I will be deposed in your affections the moment you meet him, and you shall soon forget all about me when our lad replaces me as your dear boy,' John guffawed good-naturedly, quoting Margaret's name for him, she being his darling girl in turn. 'Fathers and daughters, mothers and sons,' he expounded, thinking about his unbreakable bond with his own remarkable mother. 'It is the way of things.'

Lowering his head to leave a kiss on his baby's cheek, John smiled and leaned his forehead against his wife's. 'Oh, but it is true! I love her so much, Meg, so darned much that I wonder how my heart manages to cope with this wealth of wholesome love which I never knew I had the ability to feel before I met you.'

John and Margaret lingered there for some time and gazed into each other's eyes, orbs which sparkled with a fierce and faithful love for each other, all the while bright with amazement to think that John Thornton and Margaret Hale had ever managed to find their way into each other's hearts at all, and now, here they stood together, not only man and wife, but father and mother, a real family of three.

'She's hungry,' Margaret tutted after a while, the mother distracted by her baby's fractious gurgling. 'But with all her crying, she could not calm herself long enough to suckle, and try as I might, she just spits it out and continues squawking more frantically than ever,' Margaret explained, motioning to her breasts which were swollen with milk, the material of her nightdress sodden from where she had leaked during her involuntary lactating.

As John peeked furtively at his wife's enlarged breasts, he tried not to dwell on the fact that he considered that anyone who expelled one of those flawlessly shaped mounds of flesh out of their mouths must be mad, the master thinking on how it had been weeks since he had been granted the privilege of wrapping his lips around them. But no, no, this was definitely not the time to be thinking such crude or greedy thoughts, since as much as he missed having exclusive access to his wife's tantalising lumps and bumps, John appreciated that there was somebody far more important than he who had a prior claim to those succulent summits.

Nodding his head perceptively, and with his baby still in his arms, John stretched out a hand and took Margaret's before leading her towards the bed. 'Well then, Mrs Thornton, let's remedy that together,' he suggested encouragingly. 'Let us see if we can convince our Miss Thornton here to have her lunch.'

Margaret giggled as she let her husband drag her across the room, her legs too weary to help him. 'Yes, Mr Thornton, I think that sounds like a splendid idea.'

Sitting down, John sat up straight against the bed frame, and after moving his legs apart, he carefully helped his wife to sit down between his thighs and shuffle backwards so that her back was leaning against his front. Then, taking Maria in her arms, Margaret lowered her nightdress and exposed one of her breasts. With bated breath, the parents waited to see what the baby would do, but then, much to their relief, her little mouth instinctively opened wide and took in Margaret's teat, and before long, she was suckling serenely, drawing sustenance from her dear mama.

Resting their heads together, John and Margaret both sighed contentedly and cooed as Maria's fingers curled around Margaret's nipple and her mouth sucked away, all the while her eyes wide and full of wonder as she stared up at her parents, the little lamb learning the shape, sight, sound and smell of her ma and pa, two fellow Thorntons who loved her with all their hearts.

As he watched her nurse, John thought of how he adored seeing his wife's bosom employed in such a way, and it filled him with a strange manly pride to think that those plump and perfect peaks were being used for their proper purpose, all so that Margaret's maternal breast could nourish the babe which he had given her with both his love and loins.

'I still cannot believe she is ours,' John confessed broodingly, his throat hoarse with emotion.

'I know,' Margaret concurred, 'she is so perfect,' she lauded, the mother making funny noises with her gums and teeth as her baby's eyes twinkled in amusement.

'Aye, I know,' John agreed, 'but it is more than that. It is just that I cannot believe that you and I are together like this, Meg, married, happy, and with a family of our own. I still find it inconceivable that Miss Margaret Hale ever consented to become my wife and share my life, so much so that she allowed me to take her to my bed and after countless assignations between the sheets − as well as a few other places − we ended up with this little one,' he said, chuckling darkly into her ear and smirking at the way Margaret blushed at his references to their couplings, encounters which had been both regular and passionate until mere days before she had gone into labour.

'Well, there is certainly no denying that she is your daughter, John,' Margaret said croakily, her throat rasping in response to his frisky flirting. 'Just look,' Margaret went on, her finger gliding alongside Maria's long eyelashes. 'She has your eyes, John. They are dark, dazzling, and delightfully fetching. I could get lost in that sea of hypnotising blue all day,' she said dreamily.

'That is true,' he grunted arrogantly, pleased as punch that his little girl looked like him at all, but then again, John would much rather Maria took after her beautiful mama, something which he was gratified to see that she did in most ways. But then again, that could well change as she grew into her features, the man worrying that she would end up with his beak of a nose.

'But she is clearly your daughter too, Meg,' John insisted. 'She might have a shock of locks like I did when I was born, but I think rather than being black, it will be chestnut coloured to match yours,' he guessed, his hand cupping the thick turf of brunette hair on his baby's head. 'And look at that chin,' he sniggered, tickling beneath it. 'That noble jaw of hers which I am sure she will jut-up in haughty insolence as she defies me before too long, just as you do, this young lady no doubt making many a man feel small in her time with her regal ways.'

Margaret scoffed. 'Oh, John!' she objected. 'What lies! I am not in the least bit haughty,' she protested, her chin unconsciously lifting into the air without her even knowing it.

John let out a jolly laugh from deep in his belly, and in turn, Maria's eyes blinked as she followed the sound of his rich voice which reverberated around the room like a hearty hum. 'All right, if you say so, love,' John allowed, kissing the crown of Margaret's head. 'If you say so.'

As he sat back and relaxed, John thought about how once Maria had finished her feed, she would undoubtedly grow sleepy as she always did, and as she dozed away with her tummy full, that would be the ideal opportunity for Margaret to get some much-needed rest herself. Nodding to himself, John decided that while the baby slumbered, he would carry her in her basket across the yard and into his office. There, as John attended to his affairs of business, he could watch over his angel while she slept, affording her mother some precious respite, meaning that the master would, at last, be at ease, because he could cheerfully work away satisfied in the knowledge that at least one of his darling girls was close at hand, one of his two cherished Ms.

However, John was soon brought back to the moment as Margaret murmured a drowsy: 'John?'

'Yes, love?' he replied blithely, secretly helping her to get ready to go to sleep as he hauled the blankets up around Margaret's tired limbs and tucked her in like a snug bug in a rug, just like his grandmother used to say.

'Will you come back later when I need to feed her again?' Margaret asked, her voice tinted with shy hopefulness as she plucked at the sleeves of his shirt and lolled her head back against him, the strain and stress of the morning taking its toll on the Mistress of Marlborough Mills.

John smiled, the kind of smile that has a hundred humble origins that only the heart can truly understand.

Gazing at his daughter lovingly, John wound his arms around Margaret's middle, and as he kissed her ear, he whispered into her lobe:

'Just you try and stop me.'

The End