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North & South: A Continutation	By : gallygaskins Category: M through R > North and South (BBC) > North and South (BBC) Views: 11128 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Elizabeth Gaskell's or the 2004 BBC adaptation of North and South and I make no money from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
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Chapter 3 – To the factory we must go, with a diversion along the way!

Fanny Watson emerged from the cab that had stopped outside the closed mill gates. She tried the catch, opening the gates onto the now desolate forecourt that had always been full of hustle and bustle for as long as she could remember. Making her way over the cobbles she quickly took the shortest route possible to arrive at the domineering doorway of the mill house that her brother and mother still occupied. She knocked the door and waited for an answer; she had anticipated a speedy response but was surprised when her mother finally opened the door.

“What is going on, mother?” Fanny asked, “why do you have to open the door? Where are all the servants gone?”

“Fanny come in, I’ll explain when we go up.” Leading the way through the corridor and upstairs, Mrs Thornton retook her usual position and motioned for Fanny to do likewise. “If you want some tea then you shall have to make it yourself, I’m afraid. I have only Jane here at the moment and she is too busy to look after such unnecessary tasks at present.”

“So where is everyone?”

“They are either gone or I have dismissed them, Fanny. Your brother and I can no more afford such luxuries until he finds some other work to satisfy our needs. We have the house to the end of the month and then we must find lodgings, I’ve been arranging the items ready for an auction to get rid of the goods we no longer require.”

“Where is John, I must speak with him. If you can not find somewhere else to live then you must come and live with Watson and I; we would love to have you.”

“No, Fanny. We must content ourselves with finding some lodgings; you are still too newly married to want John and me cramming up your household. As to where your brother is, I don’t know. He left early this morning and has not yet returned.”

“I hope he hasn’t gone and done anything stupid.”

Mrs Thornton’s angry eyes turned on her daughter. “Like what, Fanny!” She spat out. “He is not his father, if that is what you were insinuating!”

“No, mother, I meant no disrespect. I just wished he’d listened to Watson and joined him with his speculation.”

“And if you’d lost, what then, we would all have been in this position much sooner.”

“But he didn’t did he, mother. No, he and his fellow investors did very well. Even Miss Hale, even though indirectly. Mr Bell signed everything over to her before he left for Argentina.”

“I am very well aware of what Mr Bell did for his goddaughter. I’m sure I wouldn’t have been so rash, but John had said that Mr Bell didn’t have long left to live and had decided to entail it all over before his death rather than after it.”

“I wonder what she will do with her new found wealth.” Fanny said, flattening down her skirts.

“Why are you so interested, Fanny? I’m sure we will never be good enough for her company now, as I said to her this morning …”

Fanny looked at her mother sternly, “she was here?”

“Yes, she was here. I found her surveying her property.”

“What did she want?”

“She wanted to talk to John, she waited for as long as she could before she had to go and catch her train; and she was with some churlish looking man. Looked right down his nose at me I swear. I’m sure I wouldn’t keep such company if I had her wealth. I don’t know what kind of mischief she had in mind but I gave her my opinion, good and strong.” Mrs Thornton’s face clouded for a moment, “the only thing I don’t understand is why, after all that has been said or gone between us, and she still wanted to try and make some kind of acquaintance with me, give me her pity. I’m sure I shall never understand her considering I believe we shall never see her again. And I thank the lord for that; I could never understand how she had turned John’s head so.”

“Nor I, mother. With her pride as it was and the way she spoke to us all, her unforgiving sign of affection that she flatly denied by refusing him and then to be so indiscreet than to be seen in another man’s company so late at night; his heart still seemed fixed on her even after that.”

“Well, she is gone now. Out of our lives for good and good riddance I say. She will be looking for a new tenant but I am sure she will put that work to an agent here. Thankfully, I cannot see the logic in her ever having to return to Milton again.”

***

Margaret had to stop, she enjoyed walking but with her last few months stay in London she had become unaccustomed to moving so quickly up hills and banks. She let go of John’s hand and leant against the iron fence that hugged the edge of the cemetery, gasping quickly to take much needed oxygen into her lungs and hoping that her heart would stop racing. John spun around searching for his companion, his face an apology. “Sorry, my love, I’ve been so impatient for this meeting that I quite forgot my manners. Here, I’ll let you catch your breath before we carry on.”

“Well, this person you wish for me to meet must be very important. Is it much further up this hill? I’m not sure my body will allow me much more exertion.”

“It’s not far now, Margaret. In fact, it’s just over there,” he answered, cryptically, pointing in the intended direction.

“Over there?” Margaret asked, looking over at the space John was pointing out. “Toward that Yew tree?” She slowly started on her way grabbing his hand as she brushed past him.

“Yes, that’s right,” he nodded, taking up the pace with her as they began to walk around the graves toward the tree. When they had crossed the distance, John took up the lead again and found his way around the old gnarled trunk stopping at a patch of grass with a freshly laid out bouquet of flowers and a slightly weathered grey headstone. Margaret surveyed the scene, standing atop the hill she could see around most of the town beneath her, her eyes followed the route they had just taken, “What a lovely spot, it’s breathtaking. Do you come here often?”

John merely nodded to her and turned back around toward the grave. Taking hold of Margaret’s waist, her ushered her slight body to stand in front of him, finally holding her in his arms and resting his chin against the top of her head. He began to whisper, “Well, here she is, I told you I’d bring the woman I love up here to see you, didn’t I? This is Miss Margaret Hale, father. My beautiful Margaret!”

Margaret turned her position in order to look into his face. She noticed the unshed tears in his eyes as he laid out his proclamation before him. Looking down at her he smiled his lazy smile. “Margaret, this is my father.” Glancing back she read the inscription, ‘In loving memory of Edward John Thornton, who departed this life 25^th July 1839 ~ Cherished husband and devoted father, you shall be missed.’

“I’m glad to meet you sir,” Margaret said looking down at the grave before her. “I’m sure I would have liked you!”

John tightened his grip, leaning closer; “He would’ve liked you too. He’d have seen you for the same feisty, forward speaking yet remarkable and handsome young woman that I saw the first time I met you. I think he may have even given me a run for my money.”

Margaret smiled. She turned to face him as best she could with the strong hold he had around her waist, placing her small hands on his upper arms. “I think I would still have found the younger Mr Thornton the more attractive though.” Standing on tiptoe she kissed his cheek before resuming her position. “I’m sorry John, about your father. My father told me of the circumstances of his death; it came as a shock to both mother and me. In fact, I reprimanded myself on several occasions for treating you so harshly those first few times we spent in each other’s company.”

“Shh, little one, you don’t need to be hard on yourself. Both of us said things out of turn when we first met, but that’s all in the past. We have our future together to look forward too.”

“Do you feel comfortable talking about him? I’d like to know more.”

“He were the very best of men, he knew how to treat people properly and was well respected, before the end anyway. What did your father tell you?”

“That your father had speculated wildly with not only his own but other people’s money. He committed suicide as a result of owing so much without the hope of ever paying any of it back. That you took that job in the draper’s shop in order to help keep your family and put food on the table. That each week you put some money aside to not only start your own business but also to pay back your father’s creditors, it took some time but they were all paid back in full. I admire you so very much, John Thornton, I cannot understand why you wish to be with someone that has no idea of what you and your family had to go through.”

“Nonsense, I’ll not have that, you’re not so very different, you went through similar yourself when your family moved here. I believe that was the reason I wanted to help your father so much when you all moved to Milton. After my talks with Mr Bell, I could see in your family what had happened in mine and wanted to do my bit as old Mr Bellingham had done for me. If anyone should be admired then it should be you, you have shown me that people can give kindness away so readily without expecting anything in return, a lesson I should’ve learnt a long time ago. Look at Higgins and his family; they look upon you as one of their own, a true friend. I was only ever thinking of my position.”

“No, John you were not! Somewhere along the way you changed, instead of the hard-nosed master you became someone who tolerated others despite their situation, you listened to other people and allowed them to put their ideas into action, your workers were happy and would have done anything for you.”

“Praise where praise is due, my love. We both changed. And for the better I’d say. If we’d both carried on like we had at the start well … I wouldn’t like to think about where we’d have ended up. Not here, I’m sure. I were 14 when he died, pulled out of school before my time, unsure of what to do next or how to look after my family; but I were all they had and I had to do what was right. I’ve always had to and always will, by you, by my family and by my workers.”

“I know you will. John, can I ask you a question? It’s rather forthright,” he nodded, “did you ever think of … well … ?” She looked back toward the grave, “oh, I can’t bring myself …,”

“Did I ever think of killing myself? Is that what you wanted to know?” John asked, watching as Margaret nodded her head, “no, never. Even though things were so bad, I couldn’t bear to think of losing the one thing that I’d still not had chance to gain. You were always my angel, Margaret, and although you weren’t mine you always had this hold over me. I wouldn’t have let you down like that.”

Margaret smiled, “thank you!” She entwined her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her with each passing second, giving herself up to his declaration and her own desire, thinking nothing of where they were or if anyone should pass. She had to show him again how much she loved him and soon they were once again sharing a sweet embrace. Unwillingly, they parted; each sharing their desires through their eyes as they stared into their opposite.

“I think we’re in for a bit of a storm tonight,” John said without even looking up to the sky, “been brewing for a few days as it’s been so nice. Best off getting home now, and give our news to mother, if you’re set.”

“Yes, we’ve spent a little longer here than perhaps we should have. Thank you, John, for introducing me to your father. I believe it’s helped me allay my fears about what your mother is going to say when we tell her.”

“I hoped it would, now come, 10 minutes and we’ll be home, I only hope we get in before it rains.”

“To be honest, with the way I’m feeling at the moment, I couldn’t care less if it did.”

***

Mrs Thornton set down the tray that she was carrying on the side table that stood next to the sofa. She looked to where Fanny stood by the window. “You know I never thought I’d tire of looking over that yard, but lately … I don’t know?” She said solemnly. “It’s as if the whole world has shut down.”

“Don’t worry mother,” Fanny answered looking back over to her mother, “I’m sure John will have some idea to get himself back on his feet. I do hope he hurry’s up though, I’ll have to be going home soon and I hoped to see him before then.”

“Come and have some tea with me then, at least we can still enjoy that for the time being. I only wish I’d known where he had gone; he was very secretive this morning before he left. Said he’d be back before the sun went down though although it’s looking very dull out there now, Fanny. There’s a definite storm brewing.”

Moving away from the window Fanny crossed the room to take a seat next to her mother. “Yes mama, it’s getting very dark. Looks like its going to rain shortly.” She picked up her tea cup and sipped at the milky brown liquid her mother had poured just moments before, “ugh, have you no sugar in this house.”

“I’m sorry, Fanny, I didn’t realise that you now drank your tea with that little something extra. I’ll just go and get some for you.” Mrs Thornton got up and went back out to the kitchen to get the small pot of sugar that Fanny so desperately needed.

All alone Fanny wondered once more at where her brother could be. “Where are you, John?” She whispered expecting an answer but getting no response. She placed her cup back on its saucer and quickly resumed her position by the window. She surveyed the land around her still asking her question silently through her mind, startled slightly as she heard the lock of the factory gate being turned open. She looked down calling out to her mother. “Mama, come quickly, I think John’s finally home.”

Her mother rushed in placing the bowl of sugar on the tray as she passed it on her way to the window, calling out all the while, “is he, Fanny? Is my son finally come home?” She stood in her favourite position right in the middle of the window looking down toward the gate. “Aye, he’s back, I’ll go down and greet him at the door,” she turned away as quickly again and started heading for the stairs.

“Wait mama,” Fanny called after her, “there’s someone with him. Oh, I don’t believe it!”

“What is it, Fanny?” Her mother asked from the corridor.

“She’s with him, that Margaret Hale woman is with him! And they’re holding hands!”

***

John could feel the tension in Margaret’s hand as he gently held it. They were stood before the sullen factory gates, each one apprehensive at the reception they were likely to receive from John’s mother. John looked over at Margaret searching her face for any kind of signal that would entice him to open the gate and step through into the factory yard, “Well, should we get on with it, or do you need another few minutes before we go in.”

Margaret looked up into his face, his gentle eyes were pleading with her to give him an answer, and she couldn’t refuse. She squeezed his hand and smiled, “let’s do it then, we can’t put it off forever.”

“Thank you,” John said, it now being his turn to show his gratitude to her overcoming her hesitation in speaking with his mother. “It’ll be ok, Margaret, she maybe fierce at times but she will come to understand why I love you so dearly. She may even begin to love you herself, in time!”

Watching John intently as he moved his hand toward the handle of the door, Margaret pulled on the other hand that she still had a hold of. “Don’t hold your breath,” she said playfully, “after all I have stolen her son away from her right underneath her nose, so to speak.”

John let go of both the handle and Margaret’s hand, his own flying to her face, cupping her cheeks and bringing his lips to meet hers once again. Breaking apart he replied, “and what a good job you did too. I love you, angel.”

“And I you!”

“Shall we go in then?” Margaret nodded; John turned and opened the gate pushing it just far enough back for both him and Margaret to get through. “So this is it then,” he said, regaining Margaret’s hand and leading her across the familiar cobbles to the front door of the factory house. “God willing, she’ll be asleep and our welcoming party will be reduced to just the maid.”
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North & South: A Continutation