The Fallen Woman #6
“You must be relieved,” Margaret’s father said. “What a difficult time. As a clergyman, I was called upon more than once to help in such situations. It appears Miss Thornton has made a fine decision. Margaret thought Mr. Stewart to be a good man.”
“John likes him, but I doubt we will see much of him.”
“It is not so far to travel, Mrs. Thornton,” Margaret said. “Surely, no more than a day’s train ride. Why, the trip from Helstone for us was likely longer.”
“Perhaps.” Mrs. Thornton conceded. “John also asked that I give you this letter.” She reached into her reticule and pulled out a folded piece of parchment.
“Thank you.”
Mrs. Thornton nodded. “Good day to you both.”
Once the two of them were alone, her father asked, “Do you wish to read it now? There is no rush to be home, is there?”
She shook her head. “I will wait until we are home.”
They walked through the bustling streets of Milton toward Crampton.
All the mills were closed on Sundays, so businesses were open to cater to the people who only had access to shopping on the Lord’s Day.
John was gone to Glasgow, which meant it would be several days until Margaret saw him again.
She had already been missing him just in the few days that had passed since the concert.
They entered the house in Crampton. Dixon had lit the lamps, as the day was quite dreary; rain would surely fall soon.
Dixon usually left once they returned from church.
They never asked what she did on her day off; it was her own business.
She did much for them, and the least they could do was give her some privacy.
She entered the sitting room with a tea tray and small sandwiches.
“Thank you, Dixon,” Margaret said. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“I shall, Miss Margaret. Good day, Mr. Hale.”
Once Margaret poured her father a cup of tea and had settled down with her own, she opened her letter. Her father busied himself with a copy of the Sunday Times they had picked up along the way home.
My Dearest Margaret,
Her heart began to thump at a livelier pace at such an address.
As you know by now, I have taken Fanny to meet with Mr. Stewart in Glasgow.
I wanted very much for you to accompany us, as you alone have been my rock through this entire ordeal.
Mother, correctly so, thought it would be improper.
Thus, I am to take this ride with Fanny alone, as my mother does not—will not—travel from Milton.
When I return, I am hopeful you will greet me with pleasure.
I have tried my best to convey my feelings for you.
Indeed, I have been as open and forthright with you as I am in every endeavor I undertake.
You can have no doubt what I will be asking of you.
I hope over the course of the following days you will search your heart and decide if you are satisfied making Milton your forever home.
Yours most truly,
John Thornton
“Papa?”
“Hmm?” He looked around his paper.
“Has Mr. Thornton approached you about…well, about marrying me?”
“Of course, he did.”
“Of course?” She laughed. “You neglected to tell me?”
He folded the newspaper and set it aside. “I suppose I wanted him to surprise you. Women like a little surprise, don’t they? Of course, not the kind of surprise Miss Thornton’s situation presented but good surprises. Was that within the content of the letter? Has he proposed again?”
“No, but it is rather obvious that is what he intends to do once the business with his sister is settled with Mr. Stewart.”
He nodded several times before he continued thoughtfully.
“John is a good man, Margaret. He will be a good husband, a good provider, and based on how he has treated his sister, I sense he will make a fine father one day. However, he has much responsibility, and as a businessman he will have many commitments that will likely weigh heavily upon him day to day. It is up to you, Miss Margaret Hale, to decide if you are strong enough to accept that you will not always be the first thought in John’s mind each day, and you will have little control over his schedule and often wish for more time with him.
You will be required to modify your life and interests to mirror his needs and wishes. ”
“You paint a rather difficult picture, Papa.”
“I do so only to prepare you, my dear. Surely, this is something your mother would have spoken with you about; God bless her soul. Of course, she would have most likely encouraged a match with Henry Lennox, who she liked very much, or a different gentleman of such leisure and flexible engagements. You could live back in London, which I believe you enjoyed.”
“Perhaps. But I don’t love Henry Lennox.”
“Not all marriages involve a love match. Some are made out of duty or necessity, as Miss Thornton will sadly realize. Some are made for convenience to join family fortunes or to provide stability for a woman who might otherwise die an old maid. Not that I fear that for you,” he quickly added with a chuckle.
“You must decide, beyond your heart perhaps, what would be best for you, what you want for your life. The two choices at hand are here in Milton, which I know you are still not terribly fond of, or London, where you have family and many friends and opportunities you will never have here, but you’d have no John. ”
“What about you, Papa? Will you be with me wherever I am?”
“Yes, my dear. I will never live away from you again. I am saddened by the many months and years we lost while you were in London. At the same time, I believe you would not be the fine woman you are today had we not allowed your aunt to help educate you.”
Fanny was wed and settled within three days.
John had never anticipated such an easy or quick conclusion.
She decided, once she saw the enormous mansion in which Stewart lived, that she could be quite content in Glasgow.
Perhaps her shallowness served its purpose this time.
Ewen was pleased with the settlements, as was John, and, knowing his friend would care for his sister and meet her needs was comfort enough for John to leave directly after the wedding.
He had gone with his friend to select a wedding ring for Fanny. Of course, Stewart had chosen the most expensive and prestigious jeweler in Glasgow, and the ring’s price and elaborate design would definitely impress Fanny and any friends she would gain over the coming months and years.
This morning, before leaving Glasgow, John had returned to the shop to purchase a ring he had eyed while on the trip with Stewart.
He’d been unable to meet the expense his friend was able to pay for a ring and, feeling a bit sheepish about being called out as cheap—even in a teasing manner—he had not brought up the idea of purchasing a ring of his own.
He found a band of gold with simple floral etching. There was a matching band with a single emerald set inside the gold. Margaret’s eyes were a beautiful shade of green, and he found both pieces perfect for the woman with whom he wished to spend the rest of his life.
As soon as he got off the train in Milton, he hired a gig and headed to Crampton. More than a week had passed since he had seen Margaret. He had sent letters to both his mother and Margaret notifying them of Fanny’s marriage and explaining she would send more details in time.
When he arrived, Margaret and her father had just sat down to dinner.
Mr. Bell was there as well. Bell usually let John know in advance when he planned a visit to Milton.
Perhaps he had tried to reach John while he was in Scotland.
Mr. Hale graciously invited him to join them, and Dixon quickly placed a dinner setting in front of him.
“Congratulations, John, on getting Fanny settled,” Margaret said. “You made a good choice in the selection of Mr. Stewart and Mr. Picard. I’m glad Fanny was satisfied with one of them.”
“Couldn’t find a Milton man for her?” Mr. Bell asked between bites. “I am a bit surprised your mother allowed her to go so far away from home.”
John smiled. “Mother will visit one day. I believe in time, Fanny will be happy with Mr. Stewart,” John answered.
“If not happy, at the very least, content. There was no one here in Milton she seemed to favor, so I suggested two men I felt would be worthy of her. He is quite wealthier than I believed him to be and, eventually she will settle and mature.”
“Richard mentioned one of the men was Lucien Picard?”
“Yes,” John agreed.
“I never met the Stewart fellow, but I should think Picard would have been a good choice.” Bell said. “Margaret, what was your thought?”
“Oh…well…I do not think she and Picard had similar personalities. I found him very gentlemanly and polite.”
“She would have had to learn French, also,” John said. “You know, Mr. Bell, learning has always been hard for her.”
“Margaret, do you not speak French?” Mr. Bell asked.
“Oui.” She smiled.
“And Italian,” her father said.
“Si!”
“And German,” Bell added.
“Ja!” She laughed. “Enough! Let us stay with English, please? The governesses Edith and I shared gave us both nightmares about conjugations and translations.”
John almost choked on his bread. What was he thinking? Margaret did not belong in Milton. She was too good for him. Suddenly the food he ate settled like a heavy stone in his gut. Why the bloody hell would she settle for him? What was he even thinking asking her to stay here?
After dinner, he would make his excuses and go home. She was a fine lady, and he was nothing more than an unwashed lackey. She had been raised to marry a man of the aristocracy, not some manufacturer from the dirty, smoky north.
“I am sorry I could not say goodbye to Fanny and wish her well in her marriage,” Margaret said.
“You know her well enough by now that if she sets her mind to something, she has no patience to wait for it.” He looked at Margaret meaningfully.