Hello my dear ones,

Here's a plot bunny that just would not leave me alone… although I should rightly be working on my novel at the moment! I know the marriage of convenience trope has been done before, but I don't think I've ever read anything with this particular spin on things. I do hope you find it enjoyable!

As ever, a lot of work goes into writing these stories and sharing them with the community, so comments and reviews are really very, very welcome, as they help us writers feel that we're not simply working our little bums off and sending our little pieces of art out into the void. So please, comment comment comment away!

There are a few lines lifted directly from the book or miniseries, but I've not italicised them because I think it makes for smoother reading. I would, however, ask that if anybody were to use any original lines from any of my stories, it would be good form to acknowledge the fact. I have come across 2 fanfic stories with entire paragraphs lifted from my story "Foolish Passions," but with no acknowledgement, which is very awkward. But such is life, I suppose...

This story is mapped out right to the end and already 4-5 chapters thick, although chapters will be shorter than what I usually write… updates should be weekly-ish. I do hope you enjoy it!

With all the love in my great and tender heart,

EH

Chapter 1: And he loved her sorely, in spite of himself Chapter Text

Lead. Lead and Concrete. These were what John Thornton fancied his steps were made of, as he set out from his home and his place of work and existence, and turned his feet toward the small, residential area of Crampton. He had received a note from his friend Mr Hale summoning him to an interview that was, according to the rather shaky script, of the utmost importance and urgency. He did not have to tax his imagination to discover the object of such a mysterious (and uncharacteristically forceful) invitation.

The previous day's conversation with Mr Bell, his landlord and Hale's oldest friend, had not gone well. Thornton found the flamboyant Oxford scholar's company vexing at the best of times- having to endure a sit down in which his actions, his honour, and his business acumen had been called into question had been beyond torturous. How the old codger had ever gotten wind of the events of the riot, now several months past, was a mystery. Yet he had come, and accused Thornton of mismanaging the strike, endangering the property, and dishonouring Miss Hale by not marrying her in the aftermath of her… er… rather public display.

And now it would seem the father would have his say also, though Thornton could hardly imagine his gentle, unassuming friend and tutor to even conscience half the choice epithets Bell had hurled at him during their meeting. What he could not fathom, was why this was all coming out just now- several months after the fact, though barely a month after the fragile Mrs Hale had departed her mortal coil, God rest her soul. Indeed, he thought to himself, in the several months interlude between the riot and now, Miss Hale had succeeded in committing an even greater indiscretion, one that had brought her under the scrutiny of the law, and still tore at Thornton's own lovesick heart as if the gentle woman herself had taken the sorry organ up in her own taper hands, and ripped it soundly in two.

Was it his imagination or did the door feel thicker beneath the wrought copper knocker that he took up and released, just as he had so many times before? A servant saw him in. The hall was dark, but it was not the intimate, warm obscurity he had come to associate with the small abode. The colder weather was setting in, both outside and inside the house. In his heart, winter had already taken up firm residence, many weeks ago.

He was shown into the parlour, where an anxious looking Mr Hale jumped to his feet to greet his friend, his handshake sincere, though his smile had something of an apology about it. He hesitated a moment, a sudden feeling of impropriety at taking his habitual, pupil's seat given the grave circumstances. He settled himself in a low chair to the left of his host, nearer the fire, and waited for his friend to begin.

"Terrible business, John. Simply dreadful!"

"You asked me to come, Mr Hale. How may I be of assistance?"

"Ah, such candour!" Mr Hale sighed, "I'll admit I'm grateful for a touch of forthrightness at a time like this!"

Mr Thornton nodded.

"The thing is, John… Oh! Where to begin? I suppose there are no two ways about it!"

The older man sat back here, and to Thornton's surprise, something of a smile flashed across his drawn features.

"Perhaps I might borrow some of your own habit for moment? Yes… yes! I shall adopt your northern ways and speak plainly. Only, I hope you will not hold it against me- I do value your friendship, John…"

This elicited a small but heartfelt smile from Thornton. He too had grown fond of the southern, renegade parson that was Richard Hale.

"It's about Margaret, you see? Well, perhaps you don't. No, I'd best start at the beginning… I have heard talk," he began, gnarling the fingers of his left hand over the slender digits of his right, "that is, I have been told, rather, in no uncertain terms that a… er… an event took place between Margaret and yourself. Several months ago now, during the time that the workers went on strike, do you remember?"

Thornton nodded. How could he forget?

"Well it seems that, somehow or other, Margaret's behaviour has become… oh how shall I put it? The subject of conversation?"

A floorboard creaking overhead arrested the men's attention for a moment, and seemed to propel the reverend further and faster into his speech.

"There have been rumours concerning Margaret. Indeed, I have had two pupil's withdraw from my tutelage, citing a wish to distance themselves from my family, following my daughter's perceived behaviour. I also understand Margaret herself has been slighted in some place of business or other, and that if we cannot find a solution soon, we are at risk of losing all respectability. Though in truth, I cannot imagine Margaret or yourself have acted in any way that was not to a proper or honest end, well… I'm afraid we cannot stop tongues from wagging. And I do not have the luxury of wealth or position enough that my own name could shield her from such talk."

Below the parlour, the front door opened and shut with a loud thump. Both men turned towards it, before Thornton turned back to his tutor, who had now sunk back into himself, and was looking quite exhausted.

"Mr Hale, I have nothing but the highest respect for you, and your daughter, and as such, I am at your service. In such a circumstance as this, what would you have me do?"

"Why, marry the girl Thornton! I thought yesterday I had made that much abundantly clear, by God!"

Mr Hale started a little and the sound of his old friend's voice. Adam Bell had slipped into the room unnoticed by either of them, and conspicuously unannounced by the servant who must have opened the door to let him in.

"Although," he went on taking a seat none had offered him, "I have been thinking on it a good deal, Richard. If Thornton here is unwilling to take her, for whatever reasons of his own, I thought I might try her myself, if you didn't mind. I've always been devoted to the girl- goddess incarnate that she is! And you could rest assured knowing she'd be in good hands!"

If Thornton had wished to mask any of his feelings at this sudden turn of events, the dangerous flash of his lightning blue eyes was enough to alert the present company of his displeasure.

"She would be… I've no doubt…" murmured Hale, almost to himself, to which Bell smiled and fixed Thornton smugly; chequered trousers, brass walking stick, silver waistcoat and all.

"Oh no, but Adam! It won't do! You're almost exactly my age! And Margaret dotes on children! It wouldn't be fair on her to be married to one as old as you!"

"Hmm… perhaps you are right. Perhaps it would be cruel to resign her to a life of a nursemaid-companion, as a penalty for this one, misguided indiscretion," said Bell pursing his lips theatrically. "I say, what of Lennox?"

"Lennox?" asked Thornton, a maelstrom of emotions growing in his belly.

"Mmm, the younger Lennox. Lawyer, wasn't he? Cousin of the brother of the husband, or something like that. Clever lad. Handsome too! I remember you mentioning he seemed to take an interest…"

"Oh yes! My dear Maria told me to expect to be asked for my blessing, when he came to us in Helstone. Just before our removal, in fact. But, do you know? I do believe nothing ever came of it!"

"Well there you have it! It's unlikely any of this sorry business has made its way to London yet. Margaret's salvation might still be at hand! I will write to Lennox, leaving out too many details, and escort Margaret to town as soon as she is ready to leave."

"Perhaps I should write to Lennox? I am her father after all!"

"Father… Godfather… given the extraordinary circumstances I'm not convinced it is of any real import…"

"I should speak to her directly."

"Then let me write. You can speak. Then I'll escort her…"

"No!"

The two men were silenced in their squabbling, and stared agape at the master of Marlborough Mills who, having summoned every compelling gravity, every thunderous authority, every uncompromising implacability into his features, was standing to his full height and glowering at them from the other side of the room.

"You will not have her! Neither you, nor this Lennox, nor any other man, unless it is of her choosing. If anyone shall rescue Miss Hale's reputation from ruin, it shall be me."

"And if she should refuse?"

Bell's question glided through the tension between them, smooth as silk, and the expression that had taken hold of his face upon witnessing Thornton's display.

"She will not go against the will of her father, or her godfather, I believe. And I do not think she would want to leave her father, and her mother's grave here in Milton, for a life in Oxford, or even in London. Any other man," here his words were coated in bitterness, "with a mind to lay any claim to her, has had plenty of time to do so, and yet it has not happened. I do not think she is in a position to refuse."

Both men eyed the Thornton thoughtfully- one marvelling at the younger man's insight into Margaret's character and temperament; the other amused by his sudden determination in the face of rivalry. Sitting back down, Thornton turned earnestly to Mr Hale.

"I would be honoured to marry your daughter, truly Mr Hale. I will strive in every circumstance to ensure her health and comfort to the best of my means and ability. I will treat her kindly, and she will want for nothing. As God is my witness, I swear it."

"Thank you, John. I knew I could count on you, as a man of honour. Dixon," he said to the portly servant who had just entered with a tray, "could you send Margaret in here for a moment?"