Margaret of Milton

by Elaine Owen

  A mist filled Margaret’s eyes. “I’m sure he would.”

  “You must miss him terribly right now.”

  Margaret squeezed his fingers, silently thanking him for his understanding. “I do, but not as much as you might think. I can’t help but feel that he is with us. He is probably looking down on us, watching right now.”

  Her voice was gentle but full of conviction, and Thornton was strangely comforted by the sentimental notion. Perhaps Margaret was right, and her father was watching over his namesake at this very moment. “I would like to believe that. Do you suppose little Richard will be a minister when he is grown, like his grandfather?”

  “Not at all! I think he will be just like his father, a strong and principled man of business,” Margaret answered stoutly, as if she had thought about it already.

  “But with a tender heart, I am sure,” Thornton rejoined. “With a mother such as you, how could he be anything less?”

  “What I hope most of all is that life will be kind to him, and that he will always know how much he is loved.” Margaret’s voice had become very tender as she looked longingly at the babe. Thornton guessed what she was thinking.

  “Would you like to hold him again?” Margaret nodded and Thornton moved around the bed to pick up the child. By the time Thornton had carefully lifted the tiny bundle and turned to face Margaret, she had adjusted herself so that she was lying down once more. She sighed as Thornton tucked him into the bed next to her, and she placed her arm securely around him, pulling him close.

  “Is there anything else I can do to make you comfortable?” Thornton asked once they were settled in.

  Margaret’s eyes went to the book she had been holding when he came in. “Would you read to us?”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  “And will you stay until I fall asleep?”

  His heart warmed at the simple request. “I will stay with you all night.” He leaned down and kissed her gently.

  Fatigue was beginning to claim Margaret. She nodded gratefully, kissed her son’s head, and then closed her eyes as Thornton folded his tall frame into the little chair next to the bed. He opened the book and read aloud the words that rang with ageless truth:

  To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

  A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

  A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

  A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

  A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

  A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

  A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

  A time to love . . . .

  THE END

  About the Author

  Elaine Owen was born in Seattle, Washington and was a precocious reader from a young age. She read Pride and Prejudice for the first time in ninth grade, causing speechless delight for her English teacher when she used it for an oral book report. She practiced writing in various forms throughout her teen years, writing stories with her friends and being chief editor of the high school yearbook. She moved to Delaware when she married.

  In 1996 she won a one year contract to write guest editorials in the Sunday edition of The News Journal in Wilmington, Delaware, and she continued her writing habit in political discussion groups and occasional forays into fiction.

  In 2014 she began to write Pride and Prejudice fan fiction and decided to publish her works herself to see if she might possibly sell a few copies. Thousands of books later, the results have been beyond her wildest hopes, and she plans to continue writing fiction for the foreseeable future.

  When she's not writing her next great novel, Elaine relaxes by working full time, raising two children, volunteering in her church, and practicing martial arts. She can be contacted at elaineowen@writeme.com. Look for her on Facebook and Twitter!

  https://www.facebook.com/ElaineOwenAuthor

  @OwenElaineowen1

  Previous works by Elaine Owen:

  Jane Austen Inspired

  Mr. Darcy’s Persistent Pursuit

  Love’s Fool: The Taming of Lydia Bennet

  An Unexpected Turn of Events

  One False Step

  Duty Demands

  Inspired by Elizabeth Gaskell

  Common Ground

  Preview from Duty Demands, a Pride and Prejudice Variation

  When Elizabeth's father dies unexpectedly, she is surprised to find that the proud, arrogant Mr. Darcy wants to marry her- and even more surprised when her uncle tells her why. But after they are married she begins to see a different side of her husband.

  Darcy thinks that Elizabeth has married him for love, but slowly begins to realize that all is not as it appears in their marriage. Will he still love her when the truth is revealed?

  Will our two favorite characters overcome their misunderstandings and achieve a marriage based on more than duty and obligation?

  A knock came from the door connecting to her husband’s room, breaking into her thoughts, and Elizabeth motioned to her maid, who curtsied and left the room swiftly. In another moment, Darcy stood in the doorway. He had not yet changed from his dinner clothes, and Elizabeth instinctively pulled her housecoat closer around her. Darcy said nothing at first; he merely looked at Elizabeth with the steady gaze that she had come to realize did not indicate disapproval. Instead of moving into her room, however, he held out his hand to her. “Come.”

  “Sir?”

  “Elizabeth, please come. There is something I wish to show you.”

  She rose and went to her husband, who took her hand and led her through his bedroom and through the door leading to the balcony off his suite, sweeping the door open as he did so. Elizabeth felt the summer air, warm and humid, hit her face as they stepped onto the balcony together. The sky was dark, but the light of a thousand stars shone around her and Darcy, giving just enough illumination for her to make out the railing of the balcony; there was no moon visible. All was quiet except for the muffled sound of the nearby stream. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

  “Mr. Darcy, I fail to see why—”

  “Elizabeth, you may address me as Fitzwilliam when there is nobody else present.”

  “Very well, but such familiarity does not explain what you have brought me here to see.”

  “Look up there.” Darcy pointed his right arm toward the horizon.

  Elizabeth strained her eyes but saw nothing unusual. “I am afraid I do not see whatever it may be.”

  “Can you not see it, just above the horizon in that direction?”

  “I think the tree branches might be in my way.”

  “Here. Move toward me.” Darcy put a hand on her waist and guided her to stand in front of him, reaching around her with his other hand to point. “It is a comet, a star with a tail stretching out for miles behind it. Do you see it now?”

  Elizabeth caught her breath in surprise and pleasure. “I believe I do. I have never seen such a thing before! How long has it been there?”

  “Several weeks, at least. I heard it mentioned while we were in London, but being in the city, it was difficult to see with the height of the surrounding buildings.”

  “I can see the comet but not the moon,” she said after a moment, searching the sky.

  “Indeed, we are fortunate that the moon is obscured with clouds tonight. If the moon’s light were visible, the comet would not be.”

  “How long will this marvelous thing be visible? Do comets last very long?”

  “Not usually. Yet this one has been observed for some months so far, and astronomers believe it may go on being visible for quite some time. It was first seen in April, I am told.”

  “I wish my father could have seen this!” Eliz
abeth exclaimed without thinking. “How he would have marveled at it.”

  Darcy had removed his hand from her waist, but he still stood directly behind her, close enough that she could feel his warmth. “Some people, blessed with fanciful imaginations, might say that the comet is a sign from your father to you.”

  “A sign! What would they say it means?”

  “Perhaps they would say that its appearance indicates that your father is watching over you now, guiding and protecting you.”

  “What do you think, sir?” Elizabeth asked, her eyes still on the sky. “Do you put any faith in such charming fancies, or is this heavenly phenomenon nothing more than a celestial mixture of gas and dust?”

  “I am a practical man. A comet is, of course, in a physical sense, exactly as you have described it; yet I would like to believe it is more than just that.”

  Elizabeth turned to look at him. “Whatever do you mean?”

  Darcy looked down at her, his eyes nearly as dark as the night itself. “I believe we were all put here for a purpose, Elizabeth. We all have our appointed tasks which we must complete before our time on earth is through, and if our lives are cut off prematurely, who is to say whether our Maker does not grant us a little while longer to look down on those we love, and perhaps have a second chance to complete our assigned tasks?”

  “That is a whimsical notion.”

  “Whimsical it may be, but life thrives on such fancies and wishes; they nurture the soul and give it hope.”

  “I confess I did not expect to hear such a statement from you,” Elizabeth said, her head still tilted at an angle to look up at him. It occurred to her that this was an odd conversation for a man to have with a woman of supposedly inferior birth, whom he had married from duty and not desire. Did he not despise her father and the rest of her family? She waited for Darcy to respond, but he made no answer, and after a moment she turned back to gazing at the comet. The silence stretched out for several minutes.

  “I have heard,” Elizabeth finally said, “that the ancients used to believe in making wishes on stars as they fell to the earth, thinking that wishes made at such times would be granted. Never having observed a falling star in person, I have never had the opportunity to try it for myself.”

  “What would you wish for, if you could?” Darcy’s voice was deep and warm in her ear.

  “Why would I need to wish for anything?” she answered lightly. “You and Georgiana are very kind, and my family is safe and happy. I want for nothing.”

  “There must be something,” her husband protested. “Everyone has at least one thing that they desire, some wish that has not yet been fulfilled. I wish you would tell me what yours might be.”

  Once she had wished to marry for love, but that chance was now gone forever. “You are very gallant, Mr. Darcy. If you insist on knowing, then my desire would be to see a falling star for myself. But now, since you have discovered my wish, I must know yours. What would you ask for, if you could?”

  “To know the hearts of the people closest to me.” Darcy’s voice was suddenly grave. “To understand their thoughts—to know their desires completely, and to bring them nothing but the greatest of happiness.”

  “You are speaking of Georgiana, of course,” Elizabeth said, serious in her turn.

  “Georgiana—” Darcy’s voice suddenly seemed choked. “Yes, of course. My sister.”

  “I saw her reaction when you announced Mr. Bingley’s visit. She seemed strangely agitated when you asked her if she would like to see him again. Has she always shown such discomfort at the prospect of guests?”

  Darcy seemed to weigh his words before speaking. “Georgiana is uncomfortable around anyone who is not a member of the family.”

  “Even Mr. Bingley? As long as she has known him?”

  “Though she has known Mr. Bingley through me for many years, lately her acquaintance with him has taken a different direction. It is difficult to say if her reticence is due to this fact, or if there are other circumstances influencing her at this time.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “I wish you would not speak so obliquely. If I am to be of assistance to Georgiana, it would help if I were to know everything that might be affecting her peace of mind.”

  “They are private matters which do not directly involve you. You need not concern yourself.” Again, Elizabeth felt as if a door were being shut in her face. She bit her lip in disappointment.

  “I think I would like to go in now. It feels like rain.”

  Darcy obligingly let her precede him back toward the balcony door, but as she began to move across the threshold, he reached out and held her back with a hand on her elbow. She turned to face him, and he raised his other hand to lightly caress her cheek, his eyes warm and intense. “You are very beautiful tonight, Elizabeth.”

  He had never done that before. Not once since their wedding night had he expressed any appreciation of her physical form, and their contact until now had always taken place completely within the confines of their chambers. Elizabeth closed her eyes as Darcy leaned down to kiss her gently, then opened them again when he pulled away and let his forehead rest against hers. “Stay in my bed tonight, Elizabeth.”

  As a dutiful wife she was willing to accommodate his request. It was not unusual; she had been summoned there before. “As you wish, Mr. Darcy,” she replied, and moved inside his room. Darcy did not move from his spot as she walked obediently to the bed, pulled back the counterpane and climbed in, but she caught a glimpse of his face just as she put out the lamp. She could have sworn his expression was one of disappointment.

  Preview from Common Ground, a North and South continuation

  John and Margaret are engaged, but they still have challenges to face. Can Hannah ever accept Margaret as her son's wife? How will Margaret's investment affect John's business? Is Watson's investment scheme as profitable as it first appears? What will a future together look like between two people from such different backgrounds?

  The northbound train moved towards Milton much too quickly for John Thornton, who, in his current state of perfect happiness, wanted to savor these few hours with Margaret Hale as much as he could.

  "Soon to be Margaret Thornton," he thought, allowing his lips to caress her forehead again. Margaret's actions at Marlborough Mills on the day of the riot had been ambiguous, misunderstood as sentiment for him instead of the act of contrition and protection it had been. But now--with her affectionate caresses and kisses freely bestowed on him in a public setting--they were as good as engaged. Still, the words needed to be said. There was another topic to settle first, however.

  "Your brother," John murmured into Margaret's ear as her head reclined on his shoulder, his arm close about her. "Tell me about your brother."

  "You know about Frederick?" Margaret's eyes, so near to his, looked up with surprise. He could easily lose himself in those blue depths, now filled with warmth that was only for him.

  "Higgins mentioned him. That was him with you at the Outwood station that night, was it not?" At her answering nod, he looked away in shame. "Forgive me, Margaret, for ever doubting you. You tried to tell me all was not as it appeared. You tried to tell me not to judge."

  "I could not tell you about Frederick, then. He was caught up in a mutiny at sea and although his actions may have been right before God they will never be right in the eyes of the law."

  "But your father--he never even mentioned having a son!"

  "It was too painful, I think," Margaret said, her eyes misting at the memory. "He missed Frederick so that even to think of him, let alone speak of him, was inexpressibly painful. We only spoke of him rarely."

  "And Frederick came to see your mother?"

  "Yes, as she lay dying. It was her last wish."

  Thornton pressed the hand that was enveloped within his own, feeling it tremble a little at her painful memory. "I wish you had been able to tell me about him when I asked you for an explanation of your conduct."

  "I could not do so. Yo
u were--and are--a magistrate. You had your duty."

  "But surely you know I could never betray your trust! Besides my feelings for you, your father was my friend."

  "It was not a question of trusting you, but of making you choose between your friendship and your sworn responsibilities. I would not bring that on your head."

  "You might have said something later," Thornton said, still feeling the sting of her lack of faith in him.

  "You had made your feelings for me plain, and I honored you for them. I would have been disappointed if you had felt otherwise. But that is all in the past now, I hope. You said you were only looking to the future," Margaret reminded him of his own words.

  "Will that future be spent with you, Margaret?" Thornton asked as he gazed down at her, his voice betraying the anxiety he could not yet banish.

  "It will, if you want it to," Margaret answered. It was her turn to look away in shame. "Please forgive me, Mr. Thornton, for ever misunderstanding the kind of man you are, for judging you when I knew no better, for failing to see--" She was stopped in her litany by the luminous look on Thornton's face, his mouth in a tenuous half smile.

  "Call me John," he said softly.

  She took a breath and began again. "Forgive me--John--for the uncaring way I answered you when you offered yourself to me--" He stopped her again.

  "Just say John," he said again, as quietly as before. "That is all I need to hear from you. Say my name, and all is well."

  "Dearest John!" she answered, caressing his face with her hand, and his smile widened and grew more certain as he leaned down to kiss her again.