They stood so entwined for long minutes, coming to learn the instinctive sense of one another which is so dear to lovers. Margaret closed her eyes in delirious wonder at the simple pleasure of his strong embrace. She drank in his scent for a precious second more, then lifted her face.
Understanding, he released her and stepped back. “I should go to your father,” he murmured roughly.
“He is expecting you,” she agreed. “I spoke with him, John… he understands everything.”
His arms hung forlornly at his sides as his fingers twitched uncomfortably. “It seems wrong, utterly wrong, that I cannot speak to him as a man. You are certain this is what you wish?”
“I am certain,” affirmed she, “that the subject will arise whether I desire it or not. You may be assured that my father wishes to bless an engagement as much as you would like to speak.”
One side of his mouth tugged into that devastating smile, and Margaret’s knees weakened just a little. “I doubt that.”
He turned to leave her, but before he had gone two paces he was back, tugging her into his arms. “You will wait on me before I go?” he pleaded hopefully. “There are a few things I wished to say to you.”
“Why not simply say them now?”
“I have already done so, but I think them of such import that I do not mind repeating them- as many times as you care to hear.” He lowered his face to hers once more. He was several minutes tardy when at last he joined Mr Hale upstairs, but that well-bred and courtly old gentleman said nothing about it.
~
“Oh, John! I have been waiting for you. Fancy you coming home early today, too!” Fanny Thornton gushed down the hall, fluttering a note in her hand just as her brother was hanging his hat.
He turned with a raised brow. It had been years since the long-gone days of girlhood, when Fanny greeted him for felicity’s sake at the end of his work day. Now, if she were pleased to see him, there was some outside reason.
“I return only briefly,” he turned back to the rack, removing his coat. “I have work to do this evening.”
Fanny paused. “Why come home at all, then? It is very early!”
“I am just returned from my lesson with Mr Hale. I thought to take some dinner back to the mill office.” His tones were measured, but one who knew him well might have detected a distant twinkle in his eye, or a lingering softness in his voice.
She narrowed her eyes, slanting them up at the paternal figure who was her elder brother. The respect she had tendered back in her youthful days was fading quickly, replaced by the certain knowledge that her brother was not the paragon of wisdom and virtue her mother had always declared him to be.
“And how is Margaret Hale today?” she sneered- rather unwisely.
His eyes flared. “Fanny!”
“Oh, bother, John, everyone knows how she runs after you. How she has managed to lead you round by the nose, I shall never-”
She never got to finish her sentence. Her brother, seething in rage, twisted the note from her hand and stalked close, his face pressed near hers and his towering height bearing down upon her. Fanny flattened back against the wall with a small squeak, her eyes casting about for an escape.
“Fanny Thornton,” he hissed, low and menacingly, “if I ever hear you speak another word against Margaret Hale, I shall cut off your spending money. Every penny of it! You shall have to work in the dress shop for your clothing, and if I do not throw you out of my house, you shall pay rent or work in the kitchen for your meals!”
Fanny cowered, unable to meet the savage determination sparking from his eyes. “John, don’t hurt me! I shall tell Mother!”
He snarled in disgust, pushing away from her. “I have never laid a finger on you, Fanny, nor shall I ever. Had we still our father, however, he might have done well to have plied the rod when you were still a child. Your employment is all idle vanity, Fanny! You care nothing for anyone, and you stoop to your third-rate arts to get what you want. I have seen enough of how you manipulate Mother, and it is at an end now! What is this?”
He snatched up the note he had taken from her and scanned it quickly. A sarcastic chuckle rose from him. “Emmeline Draper? I suppose this was your idea, was it? You may forget it, Fanny. I shall not be taking tea with the Drapers, and nor shall you! Your behaviour has been a disgrace, Fanny, and I will not have you dragging our family name through the dirt. Unless Mother goes with you, you are confined to this house until further notice. Is that understood?”
She was blubbering pitifully by now. Whether John truly meant his threats mattered little- he had never before even spoken a word against her, and now, when she needed his cooperation most desperately, he had proven surprisingly intractable. “B-b-but J-j-john!” she gasped between sobs, then her speech lost coherency. She tried to say “I,” but the word came out only as an inarticulate squeal. She doubled over in a helpless bundle of petticoats, heaving and hiccoughing against the floorboards.
He scowled, snaked his fingers through his hair, and stormed from the hall. He was ashamed that he had lost his temper, but it was above time that Fanny had someone set her down. He had best search out his mother to inform her of this most recent development.
~
My Dearest Margaret,
It is such a pleasure to be at home once more! Corfu was simply marvelous, and we did have such amusements there, but I have missed all of my friends here in London. Mama returns from Paris tomorrow, and I do so long to see her! Dear little Sholto has no memory of his Grandmama, but after tomorrow he shall see her every day.
Oh, Margaret, I do so wish for you to see my boy! Everyone here says he is the most beautiful child they have ever seen, but do you know, I think they would say so even if he were quite shocking to look at- some babies are, you know. It is your opinion I wish to hear, my dear Margaret! I have taught him to find your portrait when I say your name, so that he will know you at first sight. I am sure that you will positively swoon over him!
Maxwell has been out almost constantly since we returned. All of his friends at the club are anxious for him to call, and of course I have had a steady stream of visitors at home. I never knew I had so many friends! Many of them have asked about you. Oh, I do wish you would come to us, for I am sure I do not know how to explain where you and Uncle are living, or why he left Helstone. I cannot think what dreadful company you must have to keep there! There cannot be more than one or two respectable families, surely!
Margaret ceased her reading to laugh softly to herself. She had long since despaired of making Edith understand their move to Milton. It made no logical sense to anyone who did not fully comprehend her father’s doubts or his sense of honour. Edith’s assumption about what company Margaret kept, however, seemed to her now patently naïve… ignorant, even, as she herself had once been. She sighed, flipping unseeingly over the page.
Respectable company, indeed! For the first time in a year and a half, she had begun to feel herself among kindred souls. How quickly all had changed! The catalyst bringing about her late contentment, without a doubt, had been her new understanding of John. She smiled distantly. Not Mr Thornton anymore! Her eyes crinkling in her serene pleasure, she continued with Edith’s letter.
So much has happened while we were away. Dear Sarah Jameson is engaged to a Navy officer, and Marissa Price was wed only last week to a friend of Henry’s from the law offices. I know how glad you will be to hear that the Whites are all well, and they are planning their Christmas party again this year. You remember, that was where I met Maxwell! They asked me to be sure to invite you, and I told them I thought I might be able to work upon you to come. I am sure that Henry would be happy to escort you.
I suppose I must tell you something Henry said to me when he was here to dinner last evening. He received a letter from a colleague of his, some fellow by the name of Hamilton, who says that he recently made your acquaintance. He did not wish to alarm you, Margaret, but Henry implored me to put you
on your guard about that man. I cannot think Henry would fabricate such a warning. He said only that the man was no gentleman and that a lady ought not to trust him. For myself, I cannot fathom any gentlemen living in such a wild, dirty place to begin with! But there, you write that there are one or two tradesmen of good character, and I suppose you must know what you are about.
I am afraid I must close now, for Sholto shall be wanting his Mama soon. Do write back and promise you will be with us at Christmas, Margaret! Bring Uncle too, for I know that a London break would do him much good. I remain affectionately yours,
Edith
Margaret finished the letter with a puzzled brow. Odd, wasn’t it, that Henry Lennox, to whom she had not spoken since that disastrous day in Helstone, would suddenly beg Edith to send her a message? Odder still that his message should be a frantic caution- no doubt downplayed by Edith- about that Rupert Hamilton character.
Margaret shrugged, trying to pass it off. She had already judged the young Hamilton and found him to be a waste of her time, so she could not fathom what need she might have of Henry’s warning. It was thoughtful of him to look out for her, despite their broken fellowship, but honestly, it seemed unnecessary.
She tapped her fingers on the letter as she scanned it once more, this time trying to gloss over the bit from Henry. How she did long to see Edith and her boy! She could think of more pleasant ways to pass her time than a large Christmas party, but to see her beloved aunt and cousin again would be truly wonderful.
Her mouth canted thoughtfully to the side. She could not leave her father, as she had told Dixon before, but now another tie bound her here. London was that much farther from John. She took a long breath, and making her decision, released it quickly.
She tugged a clean sheet of writing paper from her stack to begin her reply. Spring, perhaps, could see her visiting London. She smiled privately as she penned the opening script. Yes, spring might do, and by that time she might just invite along someone else to introduce to her family.
~
Days for John passed by in lumps of sevens. Once per week, he was able to feast his heart on the delicious repast of her sweet presence. One day out of seven, he would gather his precious love in his arms and she would whisper her affections in his ear. His soul nourished to fulfillment, that hour- perhaps hour and a half, if he were truthful- was the pinnacle of his week.
Always, and too soon, came the cruel moment when he had to let her go and once more resume his merciless fast. For the remainder of those blissful afternoons, his clothing carried faint wisps of her fragrance to his keen senses. But for that, it might all have been an exquisite dream, the kind which makes the reality of waking seem harsh and colorless by comparison.
On this, the fourth such week, he was nearly famished for her company. It had been a long, hard seven days in the desert. The mill was faring no better. Only half of his major accounts had paid in full this month, with the rest begging to delay or divide their bills. What choice had he but to allow it? A late or partial payment was better than nothing, but he still had his hands to pay and more cotton to purchase.
The domestic front was no better. His ultimatum to Fanny had created a tense, hostile atmosphere at home, and the longer her confinement lasted, the more restless both she and his mother became. The one good to come from it all was that Watson had begun to call on Fanny, and she had received him more graciously than he might have hoped. Perhaps she was so starved for outside company that she was willing to entertain almost anyone! Few enough of her “friends” had deigned to call on her. He had in the last few days begun to think on her with some pity. Perhaps a month was quite long enough for her.
The single bright spot to the remainder of his weeks had been that talk of Margaret had died down, or at least it had been kept from his ears. One glowering stare at Hamper and a few well-placed comments by his mother and- of all people- Watson, and Margaret Hale had quietly dropped from the public eye once more.
He had started to think he might dare to walk out with her again, but there was little sense in tempting fate. Margaret’s concerns were well-founded, as he reluctantly admitted to himself, and he recognized as well as anyone that he had no business linking his name with any woman while his own affairs were so uncertain.
As he leaped up the worn steps to the Hale’s residence, his thoughts turned more pleasantly. One short month may have wrought little change in Fanny, but in the case before him, it had been a great deal too long! One month since the day she had uttered those precious words of love, opening up a world of hope before him! One month, he realized with a sinking feeling, in which his circumstances had not improved. The time had been effectively wasted, but an idea which had taken seed had flourished during that month, and he thought now was the time to bring it forward.
Margaret greeted him in the dining room, looking fresh as one of the southern roses she loved so much. She had shown him some pressings of her mother’s flowers, and it had inspired him. She came joyfully into his arms, but he held back. “Wait,” said he, “I have something for you.”
She dropped back from her tiptoes to her normal height with a canny smile. “What do you have, John?”
His face shining in boyish delight, he opened the front of his coat and gently tugged out a narrow green stem, prickled all round with blunted thorns and capped at the end with a moist cloth. “It is a cutting,” he replied, handing it gently to her. “I had it sent up from a florist in Hampshire. It is supposed to be of the dark red variety, with the deep grooves on the leaves just as your mother’s were.”
She gasped in happy surprise, laughing. “John, how wonderful! Only, where shall I grow it? We have no garden space here!”
“I have thought of that,” he chuckled. “I’ve a little spot near my front door which wants only for some good soil and a little tending. It is not large, but if it were planted all about with these wonderful roses of yours, it would make the entire house look more cheerful. I am told that if you start this here in your warm kitchen this winter, it will be ready to plant in the spring.”
She cocked him a mock-serious gaze. “Is that all you planned for the spring?”
He grinned sheepishly. “I had hoped to bring more than one rose home with me. Margaret, I have something important to talk over with you.”
Her playfulness vanished. She took his hand and led him to a seat, then fixed him with a level, intelligent expression. “What is it, John?”
He braced his forearms on his knees and leaned forward, looking at the floor. “I am thinking of selling my interest in the mill.”
“What?” she sucked in her breath, stunned. “Whatever for?”
He leaned back and met her eyes. “I have been thinking of it since we first… well, since you….” He sighed, not wishing to sound as though he were casting the blame on her. “It doesn’t matter. If I sell now to another who has the capital to carry it forward, my moral obligation to my men is fulfilled. The mill’s future is secured, and I am left free to pursue other things.”
“But John,” she shook her head, not understanding, “the mill is so important to you! I know you, John, you would be lost without your work.”
“Oh, I shall have work! I will doubtless have to seek it out, and it may be a far humbler position, but I have some contacts- good ones, many of whom would be only too glad to have me. I think it worth considering.”
“Working under another? After you have worked so long to earn your position of authority, you would give it up and take a lower one? You have poured your life into building that mill, John, and I know how passionately you have striven for excellence and progress. Would you truly be happy in a situation you could not work to improve, if you had to follow orders you thought unjust or ill-advised?”
His brow lifted and that roguish smile dawned. “Do you really know me so well as all of that, Margaret? No, of course I would not like it, and I may well have more knowledge than any prospective employer, but wha
t does it matter? I desire to support my family, and I hope one day that family may grow. I have dominated my field; I have risen to the top. Perhaps that is to be enough for me. Perhaps it is for me to let go of the control I have so long held, and yield it up in favour of a far greater treasure.”
Margaret, her forehead creased in worry, silently laid her head over his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her to pull her close and they merely sat in quiet reflection a few moments. “John,” she murmured hesitantly, “I would not have you do all of this for me.” She lifted her head to look him in the eye, her hand resting still on his shoulder. “It cannot be necessary, surely!”
“Margaret,” he took her hand and kissed it. “It may be that I shall in the course of time have to do this anyway. If I can save myself a year of futile worry, and if I can preserve the business as a sound enterprise, why should I not think of it? I confess, had I not you to look forward to I may not have considered this so soon, but I am convinced that in the end, the result will be the same.”
She dropped her head to his shoulder again, snuggling luxuriously against him when he caressed her hair. “I thought the mill property all belonged to Mr Bell, but you speak of selling. What is yours?”
“The property and the buildings are his- including the house, so we may need to find another place for those roses after all.” He paused to offer her a playful wink, but at her compellingly arched brow, he continued more seriously.
“The equipment within, and the business itself, are mine. The equipment is heavily leveraged- I doubt I shall see any return of it at all- but the business is another matter. It has value in established clientele and suppliers, not to mention the lease of the mill property. Perhaps best of all, it boasts a full staff of trained employees, most of whom would stay on. Marlborough Mills has a steady reputation and the goodwill of the community. The value is all intangible, but it represents many years’ worth of work, and a buyer would recognize the same. Should I try to hold out,” he cautioned, “the business itself might collapse from under me, and have no value left to it whatsoever. No buyer would then take a chance on it.”
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