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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 5 – Wedding preparations (part 1)

It was extremely early when Margaret awoke, refreshed with a new vigour now that she was back in Milton, back home, and with a renewed hope to dispel Mrs Thornton’s fears about her and what Mrs Thornton envisaged Margaret would do to her son. “How could I do anything to him?” She asked herself as she pulled back the covers and stepped onto the waiting rug, sinking into the deep pile as she stood. “Other than love him like he deserves and keep him happy.”

It was only a short walk to the window and she was soon opening the curtains on a bright early morning sky, the storm having blown itself out during the night. Wondering what the time actually was, her question was suddenly answered by the striking of a clock bell. Five o’clock. She surveyed the view, looking out across the empty courtyard, across the roofs and chimneys of both factories and houses alike up toward the lush green hills, where livestock grazed and trees soothingly swayed along with the gentle breeze that was whirling around them. She longed to be up there, wandering about in nature as she had done so many times during her childhood, knowing that any excursion would have to wait until she had company; John would never allow her to travel up there on her own.

She also realised that any early morning walk into Milton was out of the question too. John was not her gaoler but it wasn’t right to go gallivanting off without telling him, or any other member of the household; she would have to content herself with the factory.

Dressing as quickly as she could in the black pin striped dress that she had arrived in and brushing through the tresses of her normally pinned hair she walked down the two flights of stairs, out through the large mutely decorated front door and into the grey exterior of the yard. It seemed so quiet as life began to start its daily routine on the other side of the gate and as she walked the circumference she became gradually aware of how great this place actually was, how great it was set to become again.

Idea’s formed in her head as she threaded her way toward the out houses that lined one wall, she entered the one that she believed was the cookhouse, her eyes barely surveying the now empty tables and benches. She strained to see anything at all, there were few windows and she couldn’t quite make out how Mary could make a decent meal with the cramped conditions of the kitchen area. She would speak to John about it later. There were other out houses, one big enough for a schoolroom and even a nursery, there was also one that could easily be turned into a wash house where the workers could go to clean themselves up after their daily grind.

She wandered back out into the yard making her way to the far recesses, looking up at the windows of the house ascertaining which was her room and deciding which window would be the one to John’s. It didn’t take much detective work, the man himself appearing at his own window. She felt her heart leap into her mouth as she noticed him, watching him look out toward the same hills she had spied not an hour before. Before long his eyes were resting upon her as she continued to gaze up at him. She noticed the nightshirt he was wearing; the neck loosely laced offering her the sight of a little more of his neck and chest than had been afforded her the previous day. He moved, resting his hand against the frame above his head and leaning closer to the window, a lazy smile lingering on his lips as he continued to watch her own study of him, too caught up by the sight of him to want to move her feet away from the spot she now felt rooted to.

She lost sight of him when he finally moved away from the window and back into his room, silently hoping that he was dressing in order to greet the day with her. She began walking again making note of all the factory doors and gates, counting the windows on each of the floors, thinking that it wouldn’t be long before the factory would be working again and there would be a number of workers running around the yard going about their business, hauling cart loads of cotton into the factory and taking bolts of fabric out and sending them on their way.

She suddenly heard a door close not far from where she was stood, the brisk footfalls of leather against stone cobble coming in her direction and as she turned in their direction was soon greeted with a pair of arms about her waist, scooping her to him as he pressed his lips against hers. Reluctantly, they broke apart, “good morning, little one.”

“Good morning, my love. What are you doing up so early?”

“I might ask the same of you,” he smiled down to her, still holding onto her. “Couldn’t you sleep?”

“I think I may have had a little too much sleep, John. Apart from waking momentarily and putting on the nightgown that Jane had left in my room, I was soon asleep again.”

“So, you slept well then?”

“Yes, very well. Considering. And you?”

“Still not used to not having to get up, although that won’t be for long now will it?”

“No, I hope not. It’s something we should discuss.”

“And on Monday, we will. At eleven o’clock, with Nicholas,” he teased, “and not a moment before. I’d like to spend the next few days discussing our impending nuptials, if you don’t mind?”

He rested his thumb against her chin lifting it toward him, she smiled back, “no, I don’t mind at all, John. I think it would be a good idea. I need to write to Edith and Aunt Shaw too, I’d better let them know that I am alright and that I need my things sending up.”

“How do you think they’ll take the news?”

“Much the same as your mother, I expect. Aunt Shaw won’t be very pleased that I’m staying with you but at least I can argue that your mother will be keeping an eye on us to make sure that we act in accordance with respectability. My cousin will be sad that I will not marry Henry for a time, but I’m sure she’ll understand when I tell her that I am marrying my true mate.”

“Do you really believe that Margaret, that we are only complete by being together, two halves of a union that is a match made by the gods, that through suffering and disdain we finally came together as if we were meant to be only united to the other?”

“Yes, John. We may have been born into different worlds and, as such, have seen our relationship suffer because of that but we’ve both changed for the better and that is what has brought us together. I know I was offensive at first, not understanding your ways and customs, not realising that sometimes you have to rule with an iron fist. The man I saw you beat,” she watched him turn from her, disgusted by his own actions, “John, look at me?” She asked and he obeyed, turning his face back to hers, “the man I saw you beat, put everyone’s life at risk, including my own. There were other ways to deal with him and I know you realise that now but I shouldn’t have interfered then, it was wrong of me and I apologise.”

“You have nothing to apologise for, I had no right to do that to him,” he countered, his words heavy with his remorse, “although there was one good thing to come out of all that.”

“And what was that?”

“That I would truly come to understand you and your nature, my feisty girl. I was never interested in any woman until I met you, my Margaret. I would never have been happy with an Anne Latimer or a woman like Fanny, I need someone that is my equal, someone that will fight me, be forthright with their words and actions, someone who is bold and direct. You are all those things and more, my life will never be dull with you by my side.”

She beamed, “does that mean you wish me to help run the mill?” He nodded, “to help with decision making and giving opinions?”

He nodded again, “you’re putting your money into the place, and you deserve to be a partner, like anyone in your position would be.” He noticed that her eyes were watery, finally watching a tear float over her alabaster cheek, “why are you crying, little one?” He asked, tenderly wiping away the track from her skin.

“No one has ever given me such a gift. Firstly, you offer me your heart, and then you’re offering me a position in the mill. I hope I live up to your expectations, you will need to teach me everything.”

“And I will, in time. I also think that those ideas you have forming in your head will be a force to be reckoned with.”

“What ideas?” She teased.

“The one’s you were having when you were walking through the out houses earlier on.”

“You were watching me?”

“I’d been watching you for some time.” He said, “I heard the front door go, wondered if you were running off somewhere.”

“I thought about it.” She watched him scowl, “but only up into the hills, they looked so inviting when I looked up at them earlier. I didn’t want to worry you though so I decided to come down here and get some fresh air instead. What time is it?”

John let her go, reaching into his pocket for his watch, “six forty five, would you like to walk up there now?”

“You would take me?” She enquired.

“Yes, of course. It doesn’t take long and we can call back for breakfast before sorting out a few things in town as well as going and seeing the minister about you choosing the day for our wedding.”

“Thank you,” she started walking off in the direction of the gate, turning back to him when she realised he hadn’t moved. “Why are you still stood there?”

He grinned, “it will take us forever if we go that way and besides, I was admiring the view. You should wear your hair down more often.”

She walked back toward him, taking hold of his proffered hand, “it’s not customary for a woman of my age to wear her hair down, not fitting even.”

“Well, I like it and I hope I’ll see it more often.” He started off toward the side of the house, trailing around it to a small walled garden. Margaret noticed the herb patch and a small area that contained some flowers for drying and medicinal purposes. There was also a vegetable patch, why had she never noticed this before? There was a small gate in the back wall and once John had unlocked it they stepped out onto a small winding street that threaded its way upwards toward the hills that she longed to see.

He pulled her closer, enjoying the feel of her dainty figure fitting so perfectly against his as they strode up the bank, his stride shortened to keep in time with her own as they followed the cobbled track. Within half an hour they had stepped up into a field and were taking a path that wound its way along a tiny stream. At the top of the hill was a fallen trunk, it’s bark had been stripped away by the elements and made an inviting seat, John helped Margaret to sit before taking a place next to her. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful, John. I never imagined that the view would be so amazing from up here. What am I looking at?”

“Those hills,” he pointed at them, “are part of the Pennine Way and those,” he pointed further north, “the Yorkshire Dales.”

“Breathtaking.” She breathed out, unable to keep her eyes from wandering over the landscape before here, “do you ever come up here?”

“I come up here quite a bit, normally when I’ve had something to think about. Recently, it’s been because of you.” His eyes shone as he turned towards her. “Fate certainly dealt us a decent hand this time; I still can’t quite believe we ended up on the same train station.”

“No, that was definitely a stroke of luck on both our parts. Thank you for bringing me up here.”

“My pleasure, little one. It’s now a place I hope we’ll share, as will our memories of Helstone.”

“John, I’m not sure I want to think of Helstone anymore. When Mr Bell went back with me it wasn’t the same. My romantic notions and memories of the place were destroyed like the roses that my mother so lovingly planted and grew and then chopped down by the parson’s blade. I’m old enough to realise that life moves on but Helstone changed for me beyond recognition, this is my home now. And it will be, forever.”

“I’m glad, Margaret. I’m glad you can consider Milton your home.” He placed his arms about her shoulders pulling her to him before laying the most loving kiss on her brow. He looked back at her gazing into the deep warmth of her eyes.

She smiled. “Milton has made me rich, John, not from wealth but with the people that I have come to know and love. And this is our place now, if you wish it, just so long as you allow me to come up here when I need to in order to vent my frustrations towards your mother.” She joked.

“Anytime you wish, my love.” He laughed, “I count myself lucky, you know.”

“Oh, why?”

“For now I have two difficult women in my life again.”

“Again?”

“Yes, I got rid of one when she married Watson. I must be a glutton for punishment.”

“So you must,” she conceded, “I promise that I will try to keep my tongue where your mother is concerned.”

“No, Margaret, don’t. Please don’t. She needs to understand the real you, like I do. You know you turned my head the first moment you gave me your forthright opinion of me. She just needs to see what it is I love about you, what it is that makes me happy, our banter towards one another and the fire inside us both. When we’re in that factory working along side one another, she’ll understand what it is you do for me, what you do to me, Margaret.”

“And you to me, John. She’ll truly understand when she sees how we are together, won’t she.”

“I know she will, even if she won’t admit it at first. Now, I think we should go and get some breakfast, get your hair properly attired and then we’ll see about seeing the minister, once I’ve got the licence that is.”

.oOo.

“So that is the last Wednesday in September, the banns will be read for the three preceding Sundays before the wedding. I trust that we’ll see you in the congregation on Sunday, Miss Hale.”

“Yes, of course.” Margaret replied, knitting her fingers together in front of her as they sat on top of her skirts.

“And John, I trust you’ll convey my joyful sentiments to your mother on this auspicious occasion. I should imagine she’s happy to finally see you wed?”

John and Margaret shared a look before returning their attention to Reverend Gardiner. “My mother is very happy that she is finally getting rid of me.” John returned, watching Margaret as she stifled the urge to laugh. He got up from his seat, the minister mirroring his stance, “thank you, sir. I’m glad that Margaret has been able to choose a date that fits in with us all, now we must go and arrange some of the other items we will need. Good day, Reverend Gardiner.”

“Good day, John, good day, Miss Hale.” He shook John’s hand energetically, before bowing toward Margaret and allowing them to carry on with their duties for the day. Margaret’s first call was to the bank and after conducting business with Mr Latimer, as Mr Bell had done previously, she was furnished with a letter of credit before her funds were to be transferred from her bank in London to the bank in Milton. Their next stop was at the dressmakers, where Margaret ordered two new gowns and had a couple of Fanny’s old plain gowns sized for adjustment, in order that Margaret had something else to wear until her belongings arrived from London. And once John had taken himself off to the tailor’s, she looked through the book of wedding dress designs deciding on a few different styles. She’d ask John’s mother to accompany her the following day so that she could help Margaret choose.

She left the dressmakers and walked the few doors to the tailors where John was waiting for her, swatches of dark blue and mulberry draped over each shoulder. “What do you think?” He asked as he caught her watching him in the full length mirror he was stood in front of.

“The blue, I think?” Margaret said honestly, smiling up at him as he nodded his approval.

“The blue it is,” John ordered, glad that Margaret had been around to help. They stepped out onto the street and John ushered Margaret towards the jewellers. They stepped inside, “Good morning, Mr Jefferies.” John said tipping his hat to the gentleman behind the counter.

“Mr Thornton, it’s a pleasure. What can I do for you?”

“I wondered if it was possible to have a ring resized?”

“It may be possible; I’d have to have a look at it.”

John delved into the inside pocket of his coat, drawing out a small envelope. He opened the flap and allowed the ring to fall into his other palm. He turned to Margaret, “this was my grandmother’s engagement ring and I’d like you to have it, if you like it.”

He allowed her to pick it up, its emerald and diamond stones sparkling in the sunlight that shone through the windows. “It’s … oh, I don’t know what to say,” for the second time that morning, John was wiping the tears from her face.

“Do you like it, then?” He whispered before she nodded her approval. She handed the ring back to him before he handed it over to the jeweller.

Mr Jeffries studied the gold, “yes we can resize this, Mr Thornton it will not be a problem.” He went about his business taking Margaret’s measurement and writing down the requirements.

“Can you show us the wedding rings as well?” John asked, smiling as Mr Jeffries brought out the requested tray and set it down on top of the counter. “Which one do you like, Margaret?”

She cast her eyes over the tray at the various different rings on display, some contained stones whilst others were decorated and etched. She picked up one, a very delicate plain gold band. “This one.” She said, looking up to John.

“How did I know you were going to choose the plainest one?”

“Because you know my love for ostentation,” she teased, passing the ring to the jeweller.

He sniggered, “when will they be ready?”

“They will both be ready by Monday, Mr Thornton.”

“Thank you,” John replied, picking up his hat and donning it back on his head.

They were finally on their way back home as Margaret decided to tell John of her plan, “I’m going to ask your Mother to help me choose a wedding dress.”

“Do you think that is wise, my angel?”

“Probably not, but we have to start somewhere and where better than with the plans for the wedding.”

He smiled at her safe in the knowledge that Margaret would endeavour to make sure that she did everything she could to get his mother on side. “Rather you than me, my love. Good luck.”

.oOo.

“You seem to be writing a rather long letter, Miss Hale?” Mrs Thornton asked, her voice steady although inside she was still seething with hatred for the younger woman.

“I am writing to both my aunt and my cousin,” Margaret replied, “and I do wish you would call me Margaret.” John looked over to where Margaret was sat; he smiled at her response from behind his newspaper catching her eye as she raised her head to look at his mother.

“I’ll reserve that invitation until after you and John are married, if you don’t mind … Miss Hale.” John shook his head; his mother was going to be as stubborn as ever.

“If that is your wish. Only, will I still be expected to call you Mrs Thornton after that joyous day or will I then be able to address you as mother?” She smiled sweetly, as Mrs Thornton turned a glare upon her. If she was trying to frighten Margaret, she wasn’t succeeding.

“If this wedding goes ahead, as planned, then you will have earned the right to call me mother, but not until that day.”

“Mother!” John bit out; her haughty attitude was beginning to get under his skin.

“No, John,” did Margaret always have to jump to his mother’s defence? “Your mother is right, obviously she will not recognise me as a daughter before we are wed, but will have no choice afterward.”

He brought his paper up in front of his face again, desperately attempting to stifle that laugh he could feel developing in the pit of his stomach. He knew that if he looked at Margaret now, he would have no other choice but to let it out.

Margaret began to write once more, dipping her pen in the black Indian ink and scrawling the nib over the paper once more in her fine hand. “I actually have a favour to ask of you, Mrs Thornton.”

“And what is that, Miss Hale?” Mrs Thornton had returned to her sewing, applying the delicate initials to the linen within her hands.

Margaret drew in a breath, setting the pen on the stand in front of her. “I would very much like your assistance and opinion with regard to the design of my wedding dress. And as I no longer have anyone close enough to help me in these matters, I would like it if you could instruct me on what I should also have in my trousseau?”

“You want my help?” Mrs Thornton dropped her sewing once again, looking back over toward Margaret. John lowered his paper once more.

“You did promise my mother, on her deathbed, that you would be kind to me.”

Mrs Thornton dropped her gaze at the memory of seeing Margaret’s mother extremely ill, asking her to be a friend to her daughter. “I did. I will help you as much as I am able to, if that is your wish?” She turned back to her work.

“Thank you, Mrs Thornton. It is my wish.” Silence fell again over the three until Jane called them to dinner. Mrs Thornton left directly, with John following. He leant over Margaret’s still writing form before leaving the room, placing a kiss on her cheek. She didn’t look up from her writing but said, “did I do well?”

“Yes, little one. You did very well. Now don’t be too long else you’re dinner will get cold.” John requested, his hands circling over her shoulders.

Margaret rested her free left hand over his right, looking up to him. “I won’t, I have a couple of sentences to finish and I will be in. Go, the sooner you leave me to it, the sooner I will be with you again.”

He bent toward her, kissing her with as much passion as he knew he could afford, “alright, my love.” He said standing and retreating from the room.

Margaret looked back to her letter, re-reading the last lines in order to pick up from where she’d left off. With the pen full of ink and poised over the letter she began to write.

… You see Edith, Henry could never have given me anything to compare to what John can, Henry is far too materialistic and I care not for things. Henry would never love me as much as I deserve, but I know John will and I will never be able to love Henry as I love John. Our children will be born from love and if I had to live my life in squalor then I could happily do that with John by my side. He is my world, Edith and my home is by his side, here in Milton. I love him so very much, I can not even begin to try to explain to what extent I love him, and I just know my heart would break if I ever lost him.

I hope that you can be happy for me and will want to come to my wedding, I would love for you to be my matron-of-honour and for little Sholto to be my page boy. Please let me know as soon as possible as I also hope that you can come to me directly, in fact as soon as my aunt has sorted out my belongings in order to be shipped back here to Milton.

Yours most affectionately,

Margaret.

She collected her pages up, leaving the last to dry on top of the others. “That will do.” She said to herself, as she got up from her seat and joined the others in the dining room.

.oOo.

Hannah Thornton patted her lips with the crisp white cotton napkin before discarding it over her plate. She rarely ate desserts and tonight would be no exception, “I hope the two of you don’t mind but I’m going to retire to the drawing room now. Enjoy your desserts.” She watched her son and his fiancée nod their agreement before she drew back her chair and walked from the room and into the drawing room.

She could hear that the two now seemed to be very animated in their conversation as they happily chatted away in their new found privacy. Suddenly feeling down hearted, she began to think of a time she’d conversed with John on a similar level, before Margaret had been thrown into their lives that was sure, but at least she’d have an idea if anything other than talking or eating ensued in the room next door with its close proximity and adjoining false wall.

She took in her surroundings, thankful at least that they would now no longer have to move even if it was down to the southern woman that had charmed her way into her son’s heart. Her eyes rested on top of the small green leather topped bureau that Margaret had been sat at earlier writing her letters. She noticed the page with its formed words upon it written in the very fine copperplate font that Margaret had used. Could she bring herself to read the words? They were private after all, but she couldn’t help herself.

Hannah’s heart raced, the words were so heartfelt meaning that Margaret’s intentions were as she had always claimed; she loved John. Not that that meant that Hannah would just lie down and accept it; she would still not acknowledge it until she was ready too. How could such a woman know what love was that she would dismiss it so readily the first time it was offered to her only to accept it when the fancy took her? John’s constancy would be his downfall; of this Hannah Thornton was adamant. The only thing was, how on earth was she ever going to get him to change his mind? Especially considering that John and Margaret had set a date for the wedding. She’d have to think of something and she’d have to think of it quickly.
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North & South: A Continutation