"The most terrible poverty is loneliness and the feeling of being unloved." —Mother Teresa

It was the end of another day, the same as the day before, and all the other days of his monotonous life since Miss Hale had moved to London. John kissed his mother's weathered cheek and bade her goodnight.

After preparing for bed, he took out his worn copy of Plato, a parting gift from the woman he loved, and held it in his hands. He closed his eyes, and he felt the pain of his loneliness wash over him. Some nights were worse than others, but he always missed her most at this time of the day when he did not keep his mind occupied with other things. In these quiet hours, John let his memories take free reign, and he allowed his heart to acknowledge all he felt for her.

His love for her was a solitary thing. He did not share his feelings for Margaret Hale with anyone. The closest he came to speaking of them was with Nicholas Higgins, his only friend now that Richard Hale had died. Margaret wrote to Nicholas and his daughter Mary, and he knew of her life in London only because of the snippets that Nicholas shared when they ate lunch together at the mill canteen.

He never spoke of Margaret to his mother or his sister. Neither one of them had been kind to Margaret, and he knew his mother hated Margaret for rejecting his proposal. It was an unjust feeling, in John's opinion, but his mother could not separate her life from his, and her pride in her son would not tolerate anyone causing him a moment's pain.

In hindsight, John could understand why Miss Hale did not accept him. His timing was terrible, due to the impending deaths of her best friend Bessie Higgins and her mother. In addition, he had never asked for a courtship. Yet, he had proceeded, driven by his own need to secure her affections.

There was no use in replaying that memory over and over again, painful as it was. He had asked for her hand in marriage and had been refused. She was forever lost to him, and her removal to London from Milton had made him finally face his truth.

He sighed deeply, and then ran his hand across the empty side of the bed. He longed for her, and his acceptance of the situation did nothing to lessen his need for her to be his.

At last, sleep finally claimed him and gave him respite from his desperate loneliness.

oooOooo

In London, Margaret had found her days at her aunt's house quiet, too quiet in fact. The only bright spot in her day were the hours she spent with her nephew, Sholto. Margaret delighted in caring for him, and spending her afternoon hours in the playroom with him.

Occasionally, she would receive a letter from her old friends. This morning, the maid handed an envelope to Margaret and immediately, Margaret recognized the distinctive handwriting of Nicholas Higgins. She excused herself from the company of both her aunt and her cousin and retired to her room to open his letter.

To Margaret's delight, enclosed was an invitation to Mary's wedding to Matthew Adams, a mill worker whom she had met in the mill canteen. They had been courting for three months, and were to be wed in two weeks. Mary requested Miss Margret's presence at the wedding and to stand with her as maid of honor.

Margaret wrote a quick reply and went downstairs to send a servant to post the letter.

She returned to the drawing room and announced, "Aunt Shaw, I will be traveling to Milton in two weeks to attend a dear friend's wedding. In fact, I will stand with her as her maid of honor."

Margaret turned to her cousin, "Edith, will you go to the modiste with me this afternoon? I will need new clothes. By the time I leave for Milton, I will have finished my year of mourning."

Edith was delighted, and quickly agreed, "Yes, I would love to, Margaret. It is time for you to retire your black gowns and return to society again." Edith secretly hoped that Margaret would become more receptive to her brother-in-law's affections. Henry had been a regular visitor at the Lennox home and had been patiently waiting for Margaret to return to society so that he might begin courting her.

Aunt Shaw was dismayed that Margaret was returning to Milton. "Margaret, why in Heaven's name would you return to the dirty and smokey city that killed your mother?"

Margaret sighed and tried to be patient, "I know you do not understand my wanting to return, but I must attend Mary's wedding. I can take Dixon with me and stay at the Brownstone in Milton on New Street. It is a lovely hotel, and all will be proper."

Aunt Shaw grumbled, "Henry will escort you and Dixon, and that is the only way I will allow you to go, Margaret."

Margaret knew that her aunt would insist on Henry escorting them, and she acquiesced to keep the peace with her aunt.

"Of course, Aunt Shaw."

oooOooo

Two weeks later and one year to the day that Margaret had left Marlborough Mills on a bleak and snowy February day, she arrived at Outwood Station, Milton-Northern.

Margaret was filled with anticipation at the thought of possibly seeing Mr. Thornton. She hoped Mr. Thornton would be at the wedding as well, and she could speak to him. She knew he was yet unmarried according to the tidbits she gleaned from Nicholas's letters over the past year.

If he were not in attendance, surely, she could send a note to invite him to tea at the hotel. Margaret determined that she would what she could to see Mr. Thornton while she was in Milton.

Henry gathered their luggage and whisked them off to the Brownstone in a carriage. He had to be back in London by nightfall, so after he got them settled, he was on his way to return home.

Dixon complained as usual, "It is so much colder here, Miss Margaret. I can feel the chill in my bones."

"I agree that the weather is harsher here than in London, Dixon, but I find it invigorating."

Dixon scoffed as she began unpacking Margaret's trunk and to unwrap all of Margaret's gowns from their protective tissue paper.

Tonight, there was a small celebration with just the families of the couple, and a few close friends. Margaret was honored to be included, and looking forward to seeing Mary and Higgins again, as well as meeting Mary's fiancé, Matthew.

Margaret could feel the excitement thrum through her body as Dixon dressed her in one of her new gowns. The simple but elegant gown was made of silk and a rich teal color deepening the gray of Margaret's expressive eyes. Dixon dressed Margaret's dark tresses in a soft style and added pearl combs. Margaret wore a simple diamond and gold cross that had been her mother's and sparkling diamond studs in her ears that had been a gift from Aunt Shaw. She added the bracelet that Edith had given her years ago, and at last, Margaret was ready to go.

"Dixon, I need the gift I have for Mary, my cloak, and my evening bag."

Dixon grumbled, "Miss Margaret, I do not know why you have gone to such trouble to dress so finely when you know that you will be keeping company of much simpler folk."

Margaret bristled but did not scold Dixon. She just sighed and left to wait for the carriage that would take her to the address where the party was being held.

On the short ride to Matthew's parents' home, Margaret thought about her life in London and how lonely she had been. She knew her cousin and aunt loved her and welcomed her gladly into their home, but she did not feel understood by them.

Margaret chided herself for the ungratefulness she felt. She also realized that even though she had only been in Milton a few hours, she felt alive again for the first time since she had left a year ago. She dared not hope that she would ever regain Mr. Thornton's affections, but perhaps it was possible for the two of them to become friends if they had a chance to speak while she was in town.

His poor opinion of her had plagued her for a long time, and if an opportunity presented itself, she would give him the explanation for her behavior at Outwood Station that he had requested of her long ago. At least, there would be one less misunderstanding between them.

The carriage pulled up to a small home outside of Princeton, and Margaret noted that it even had a tiny front yard. The house was well lit, and Margaret could hear laughter coming from within.

She knocked on the door and was greeted by a lovely woman of about forty years or so, if Margaret had to guess.

"You must be Miss Hale. Welcome! I am Matthew's mother, Moira. Mary has been waiting for you, rather impatiently I might add."

The two women shared a smile, and Margaret turned to find Mary at her elbow. "I am so glad you came, Miss Margret. I knew you would. Let me take your cloak, and then I will introduce you to everyone."

Margaret loved the shortened version of her name that was spoken in great affection by both Nicholas and Mary. She handed her friend the gaily wrapped box and whispered, "Mary, please do not open this in front of anyone. It is a gift for your wedding night."

Mary blushed deeply and thanked Margaret for the gift.

The two women hugged and over Mary's shoulder, Margaret saw Nicholas coming toward her. "Miss Margret! You are a welcome sight. My Mary and I have missed you."

"As I have missed you, Nicholas." Margaret found herself embraced in his warm hug.

Mary took her arm and introduced her to Matthew's family. John was standing in a corner, watching Margaret in her London finery fit right in with these humble folks. She truly was an extraordinary woman, and his hungry eyes took in every detail of her appearance. She was stunning, and more beautiful than ever. God, how he had missed her! He was glad he had a moment to compose himself before they had a chance to speak.

Higgins had told him two weeks ago that Mary had invited Miss Hale to the wedding, and he had felt a maelstrom of emotions ever since. He vacillated between hope and despair. Through her solicitor, did she know that his mill was struggling? Now that she was back in London among genteel society, did she disdain him as a tradesman far beneath her in society? Or, perhaps, if he were lucky, she remembered him with some kindness as her father's friend.

In the small room, John was hard to miss, even standing in the shadows. Margaret felt his presence before she saw him. Her stomach felt as if a bevy of butterflies were fluttering about, and she felt her breathing become more rapid. She took a deep breath to calm herself before Mary introduced her to Matthew's three younger brothers.

After Margaret had met everyone, Mary said she needed to help with the food. Margaret turned and saw the man who owned her heart standing before her.

Her expressive gray eyes meet his piercing blue ones.

"Mr. Thornton, it is good to see you again." Margaret offered her hand to him, and he took it with both of his. He felt her warmth through her gloves, and he held her hand a moment longer than necessary, needing this connection between his dreams and the reality of his love standing before him.

Margaret blushed when their hands touched. John did not miss her reaction, and a flicker of hope was born that maybe she was not indifferent to him.

"You are looking well, Miss Hale. I hope you have been content living in London this past year."

She blushed again at his compliment, and replied, "It has been rather lonely, actually. I have only just finished my year of mourning and can rejoin society again. This is my first social occasion to attend since my time of mourning has ended. I cannot tell you how pleased I was to be invited to the wedding."

"Mary would have no other stand beside her on her wedding day, Miss Hale. She loves you as a sister, as I am sure you know."

"Yes, and I feel the same about her, and of course, Nicholas is a second father to me. I consider them both my dearest friends."

Furtively, she noted his appearance and felt her heart flutter. Was there a more handsome man in the world than John Thornton? She wondered how she could have ever thought of him as less so, or anything less than a gentleman.

Matthew's parents passed around glasses of cider to toast the happy couple, and as everyone raised their glasses to the couple that would marry tomorrow, John could not help lament that he and Margaret were not married. He would never love another, and he would spend the rest of his life alone rather than marry anyone else. He would love her forever.

John made the decision at that moment to focus on enjoying the pleasure of Miss Hale's company this evening. It was the chance to make a memory with her that he would cherish for a lifetime, and he would not squander it thinking about the past.

Tables had been set up for dining, and a meal of roast chicken, vegetables, and bread was set out. John offered his arm to Miss Hale, and the two of them sat together to enjoy the delicious food. They spoke of her life in London and of his family. Margaret learned that Fanny Watson had a daughter a few months ago and named her Louisa Victoria. Margaret thought the name was fine and said so.

"Are you a doting uncle, Mr. Thornton?"

Margaret saw the corners of his mouth upturn, and he answered, "Yes, I find that I enjoy spending time with my niece."

"Maybe someday you will have a family of your own, Mr. Thornton."

John turned to meet her eyes, and said, "I would like nothing more, but I will marry for love, Miss Hale, or not marry at all."

Margaret felt her face flush as she remembered his declaration of love over two years ago when he asked for her hand. He had said, " Now I love, and will love. But do not be afraid of too much expression on my part."

Of course, he had withdrawn his affections from her after the Outwood Station incident when he saw her embracing her brother, but to Mr. Thornton, he was an unknown man he thought to be her lover. It still hurt that he could think of her as a woman of low moral character. She knew he could not have genuinely loved her to think so little of her.

Margaret kept her head down and pushed her food around her plate. The memories that assailed her so suddenly were painful and had haunted her for too long.

John said, "Miss Hale, are you well?"

"Yes, of course, I just.. I was just remembering something that has caused me great angst over the past few years."

John was curious as to what memory was causing Miss Hale such sadness, but it was not the time to ask.

Deciding a change of topic was necessary, Margaret began telling him about Edith's son, Sholto. John could hear the love Margaret felt for her nephew in her voice, and her eyes sparkled as she spoke of the time she spent with him each day. He had seen her with the Boucher children and knew that she would be a loving mother. Once again, he felt the sharp ache of longing for what could have been.

After dinner, Matthew and his brothers sang to entertain everyone, and Margaret enjoyed their performance immensely. They sang lively tunes, but at the end, Matthew's mother requested her sons to sing "Danny Boy" in remembrance of her father who had served and died as a soldier at the Battle of Waterloo in 1815 near the end of the Napoleonic Wars.

Margaret felt tears gather in her eyes when they sang the poignant lyrics of the beautiful song. She closed her eyes to listen, and she felt the sorrow of a child who had lost both parents in the span of a few months. Her only consolation was that they were reunited in Heaven and would be together for eternity. She also felt the regret of her refusal of John's offer of marriage weigh heavily upon her. She would never love another man; of that she was certain. Her love for John Thornton would remain with her for the rest of her life. She turned her attention back to the beautiful harmony of the men singing:

Oh Danny Boy the pipes the pipes are calling

From glen to glen and down the mountain side

The summers gone and all the roses falling

'Tis you 'tis you must go and I must bide

But come ye back when summers in the meadow

Or when the valleys hush'd and white with snow

And I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow

Oh Danny Boy oh Danny Boy I love you so

And when you come and all the low'rs are dying

And I am dead as dead I well may be

You'll come and ind the place where I am lying

And kneel and say an Ave there for me

And I shall hear tho' soft you tread above me

And all my grave shall softer sweeter be

For you will bend and tell me that you love me

And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me

And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.

John, seated next to her, was also affected by the lyrics. He remembered the father he knew as a boy, and felt the pangs of sorrow that he lost his father too soon. He glanced over at Miss Hale and noticed that her eyes were closed as she listened to the beauty and emotion of the song. He did not miss the tear that had escaped and was now running down her cheek. He knew she must be thinking of her parents, Mr. Bell, and Bessie Higgins.

John said nothing, but offered his handkerchief, which she silently accepted without looking at him. Their fingers brushed as she took the handkerchief from him, and Margaret felt her hand tingle in response.

All too soon, the evening ended, and people began to gather their things to leave.

John asked, "Miss Hale, might I see you back to your lodgings?"

"Thank you," she answered, and he helped her into her cloak before donning his own coat. Margaret pulled on her soft leather gloves and noticed the fine leather of John's gloves. She felt a moment of guilt that she had a pair of his gloves in her bureau drawer in London, but it was too late to return them now without creating an awkward moment between them. The memory of the day he had asked for her hand had replayed in her mind many times since then and every time, she felt deep regret for the words she had spoken that day.

John took her hand to help her alight into the carriage, and then got in himself to sit across from her. If they were married, he would have been able to hold her close to keep her warm, but she did not love him, and he had to accept it. God knows he had tried but seeing her again had made his longing for her more intense than ever.

Margaret spoke, "It was a lovely evening, was it not, Mr. Thornton?"

"Yes, it was, and I am certain your presence tonight made it even more special for Mary." He wanted to tell her how much it had meant to him.

Margaret smiled, "It is wonderful to be back in Milton and to see my friends again. Thank you, Mr. Thornton."

When the carriage arrived at the Brownstone, John helped her out and saw her into the hotel.

"Miss Hale, might I escort you to the wedding tomorrow?"

Margaret was pleased he had asked, and said, "Yes, Mr. Thornton, that would be most agreeable."

"I will be here tomorrow morning at 9:30 then. Goodnight, Miss Hale."

Margaret felt a warmth come over her, an emotion she dared not name. A proper lady did not acknowledge her awareness of a man. Still, she wondered what it would feel like to be held in his arms or for him to touch his lips to hers, and she blushed.

John waited for her reply, and wondered what she was thinking. She had briefly lowered her gaze to his lips and he clenched his hands at his side not to reach for her.

Margaret could not meet his eyes but told him she would be ready when he got there tomorrow.

She turned and walked up the stairs, and John went out to dismiss the carriage. Even though it was bitterly cold, he needed time to collect his thoughts before going home.

He felt an attraction between them, and he sensed that Miss Hale felt it as well. She just did not understand it perhaps. He wondered about that because if she had a lover while living in Milton, wouldn't she have known those feelings and more?

John stopped walking for a moment, and the injustice of his thoughts assailed him. She had tried to explain to him that things were not as they appeared, but it was his jealousy that kept him from believing her. Time had proven that she was telling the truth, and there was in fact, no other man that he knew of. This past year, she had been in full mourning, and no mention of an attachment was made tonight.

He began walking again, and before he knew it, he was at the gates of the mill. He went through and into the house. He knew he would find his mother sewing in the drawing room. She waited up for him each evening, and it irritated him at times as he was a grown man.

He bent to kiss her weathered cheek, and said, "Good evening, Mother."

Hannah noticed immediately that John's countenance was lighter, and there was a lilt in his voice that she had not heard in quite some time.

"I take it the party tonight went well?" Hannah did not approve of her son socializing with the hands, but he had long ago stopped listening to her on the matter.

"Yes, very well, Mother." Not wanting to discuss it any further, John said goodnight and went to his room.

He undressed and meticulously put his clothing away. He poured himself a snifter of brandy and sat before the fire. Being so close to Miss Hale tonight had been bittersweet. He was close enough to inhale her scent with each breath he took during dinner and in the carriage as well. His body had responded to hers tonight, and he had never felt his desire for her more keenly.

There was a part of him that was afraid, and the pain of her rejection more than two years ago was only now abating to the point that he could bear it. But…she had been glad to see him, and she had been warmer than she had ever been to him. Was it possible that she cared for him?

John did not know, but as he crawled into his bed, he knew he had to find out while he had the chance. It was his only hope to end the loneliness and emptiness of the life he had without her.

oooOooo

Author's notes:

I must thank Mimosa, a wonderful friend and fellow member of the Mill at Milton forum who graciously edited this story. Thank you, Mimosa!

The constant stream of misunderstandings between our beloved couple throughout the canon had a tone of poignant sadness to me. I wanted them to just speak from their hearts! I feel that same sense of sadness when I hear this song, as it is once of such longing, much like the feelings of longing John and Margaret had for each other before they finally reconciled. It is a song that can represent the death of a loved one and the hope of being reunited in the afterlife, but to me, it is a song that represents a deep feeling within a lonely soul that longs for his or her heart to find its home either in a person or place. Margaret's home was with John and in Milton, and his home was with her.

Here is a beautiful version of this song if you care to listen to it:

Celtic Woman - Danny Boy - Official Lyric Video

"Danny Boy", Composer: Traditional Irish ballad

Words by Fred Weatherly, Arr. Boy

*I also quoted from the original canon and want to credit Elizabeth Gaskell.

"Now I love and will love. But do not be afraid of too much expression on my part."