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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
- 6
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Chapter 6 – Wedding preparations (part 2)

It had been a long morning as Margaret Hale and Hannah Thornton arrived home after their excursion into Milton, just in time to sit down to a lunch of cold meat sandwiches and a slice of cake all washed down with lashings of tea. John took a sip of the creamy liquid from his cup before placing both the cup and saucer on the side table, he turned to Margaret who had taken her place by his side on the sofa, “how was your trip into town, were you able to order what you wanted.”

She looked up to him, a sullen expression on her face, “yes, thank you.” She spat out, turning to Mrs Thornton. “Your mother was very helpful.”

John noted the pained expression written across Margaret’s features, and then looked over to the dark brooding figure, “mother?” He asked.

“Miss Hale was her usual determined self. I honestly don’t know why she invited me, John, because my opinion didn’t seem to count for anything.” She picked up her cup and delicately sipped at the brew. “In fact, it was a wasted morning. There were far more important things I could have got on with here, than traipsing half way around Milton.”

He could see Margaret twitching on the seat next to him; she was seething with anger, ready to burst at any second. John’s hand found hers as they wrestled with one another on top of her lap; they steadied with his calming touch. “It was successful, though?”

Hannah Thornton couldn’t help herself, “if you consider the fact that Miss Hale hasn’t very long to put together her trousseau then no, it wasn’t. I just hope that her aunt comes up with something otherwise Miss Hale will be wearing rags.”

Margaret could take it no longer, standing up abruptly. “Thank you, Mrs Thornton; I’m sorry that you had such a wasted morning. I did honestly believe that it would give us the opportunity of putting our differences aside and start afresh,” she shouted, she wasn’t one for outbursts but this family certainly had a knack of bringing them to the fore. “Even if it was only for John’s sake!” She exclaimed. She looked down to him; she was distraught and ready to cry. The last thing she wanted was to allow Mrs Thornton see her do that, it would only encourage the older woman to believe she had won a small victory. She excused herself, feigning a headache and quickly ran to her room.

The door slammed behind her as she rushed for the bed and fell onto it, weeping into the covers. Her cheeks were still flushed with her anger as the salty tears tracked their way over them on their way to oblivion. Her body wracked with her sobbing as her heart cried out, her voice mimicking the noises tearing through her body in order to give them credence.

Then all was silent, she continued to cry but her voice quietened, her ears suddenly becoming aware of the gentle taps of a hand knocking on the other side of the door. John had probably sent Jane to look in on her and see how she was doing. “Please leave me alone,” Margaret called out, her voice small and cracked, turning slightly in order to allow the person behind her door to hear her.

The door opened a chink, “Margaret, it’s me.” John whispered, crossing the threshold into the room and eyeing her on the bed, her back toward him. She turned over to him, his heart breaking with her dishevelled appearance. His normally cool and stolid Margaret upset by a few cold and expertly calculated words of his mother. He closed the door quietly before quickly crossing the distance over to her, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling her frail form toward him, cradling her in his arms as he attempted to calm her down. Finally, as she began to take control of herself once more he asked her, “do you want to tell me what happened?”

She nodded, a brief smile passing over her lips before she rested her back against the headboard. “We left in silence and by the time we got to the dressmakers we still hadn’t talked, I’d assumed that she would at least ask me what I had towards my trousseau, if anything at all, but no, not one word did she speak until we entered the establishment. Then you couldn’t stop her. She kept asking what lingerie I had, if I had a shawl, about gloves, fans, bags, stockings, dresses. She quite drove me mad.

“Then she asked me about the wedding dress, I showed her some of the designs I had looked at yesterday and she dismissed them all, saying that I should go for something a little plainer. I couldn’t go for anything simpler; after all you know my hatred of ostentation. She looked through and found something that would have suited Fanny more appropriately than me. Finally, we compromised until she assumed that I wanted a white dress. I’d seen this beautiful light blue satin silk that matches the midnight blue of your coat perfectly, but she didn’t like that. She sniffed John, she physically sniffed, and I could swear that half of Milton probably heard her do it.

“I wanted that fabric, not only because it would match your attire but because I would be able to wear the dress again and blue is a lucky colour too. But that simply wasn’t good enough; the Queen wore white, every bride since then has seemed to have worn white so I should too.”

John was slightly amused by the battle of wills that Margaret was portraying for him, “so are you? Getting married in white?”

Margaret shook her head, the merest smile escaping her lips; she looked up at him through her eyelashes like a naughty girl. “I pretended to be ill, said I felt a little faint, Mr Stevens helped me out into the back and let me have a drink of water. He was very kind to me and we discussed my requirements, in private.”

“My clever girl.” John smiled; glad to see that she had got her way in the end.

“But I couldn’t get much else, your mother made it virtually impossible for me to order any other items, so at the moment my trousseau consists of my wedding dress, veil and a pair of gloves. However, I was able to order numerous pairs of boots and slippers from the cobblers, so I will be well shod.”

He laughed raucously, Margaret was sure that the windows would rattle. “Oh, Margaret.” He held her to him, kissing her brow. “So why did you get so upset with her?”

“She was making everything so difficult. I really believe she is trying to sabotage our wedding and she is so stubborn, I locked horns with her on almost everything this morning.”

“I know someone else like that,” John revealed, letting his hand raise Margaret’s chin up so that they were gazing into one another’s eyes, “but I love locking horns with her, it makes me feel alive.” She looked away, embarrassed by his honesty, “Margaret, look back at me, please.” She did as she was bid, the depths of her warm golden flecked hazel eye’s drawing him into their depths. He smiled, “you know, I said that once before, but you never did then.” He looked away briefly, reliving the moment.

“When was that?” She asked, her face shamefully close to his, their breath inter mingling in the smallest void between them.

“When you left with your aunt after your father’s funeral. It was snowing and you got into that carriage with her. I just wanted some indication of how you felt and I called out, wanting you to turn around to see me watching you. But you didn’t, too wrapped up in your thoughts of your father I shouldn’t wonder. I just knew that … well …”

“What John?”

“If you’d looked back, I’d have never been able to let you go. One glance and I would have run across that courtyard to the carriage and stopped the driver, pulled on the reigns, anything to get that carriage to stop so that I could ask you to stay with me, ask you to marry me, hold you in my arms and never let you go to London.”

A lone tear skimmed over her cheek. “I wanted to, John. I wanted to look back but I was so torn, I thought you hated me and if I had and you’d gone into the house I think I would’ve died there and then. I only wish I had now, we’d have been wed a lot sooner and I could be free to love you as a wife should.”

“No, little one. Everything happens for a reason. It was right the way it happened; I have no doubt about that. Now, I think I should leave you to freshen up a bit and go and speak to mother.”

“John?” She questioned just as he was about to get up from his seat on her bed, her hand resting on his elbow, a tingling sensation began to course through both of them. “Thank you.”

He kissed the tip of her nose, before getting up and moving toward the door. His hand was on the doorknob as he looked back at her. “You look like you want to ask me something else?”

“Well, yes, there is something else I wish to know.” He nodded his head, awaiting her question, “why do you avoid kissing me on the lips?”

“Ah, so my bold Margaret is still in there somewhere,” he teased, “you think I have avoided your lips?” He watched her nod. “I confess. I have. But there is good reason; the next time I kiss you on the lips will be the night we are wed, when I know that I will be able to claim you as my own without worrying about your reputation. Especially considering that you will then be my wife.”

“And you will be my husband.” He nodded, “then I thank you for that too. I shall see you in a little while?”

“You shall, now tidy yourself up, I’ll get Jane to come and help you.” And with that he was gone.

.oOo.

John wound his way down through the town, tipping his hat at passers-by that were known to him, exchanging words of greeting or thanks to those that offered him their kindness towards his forthcoming wedding and his engagement to Margaret. Even Anne Latimer was pleased that he was happy with his choice, endeavouring to persuade him and Margaret to attend a party that she and her father had decided upon giving in a couple of weeks. They would be honoured if the happy couple would be their guests of honour. John said that he couldn’t possibly answer without discussing it with Margaret first but would send word as soon as he had an answer for them. She smiled sweetly allowing him to go about his business.

Upon reaching the dressmakers in good time, he crossed the threshold and spoke directly with Mr and Mrs Stevens, asking them to put together a trousseau for Margaret that they thought would befit her. They were only too glad to help; he had been a very good patron of their store for a number of years and even gave him a swatch of the fabric that her dress was to be made from. He bid them good day and found his way into the jewellery store for the second time in as many days.

“Good day, Mr Jeffries,” he enquired, whilst taking off his hat and placing it on top of the counter.

“Mr Thornton, good to see you again. I see that your lovely fiancée is not with you today.”

“No, this is a secret call, Mr Jeffries. I wonder if there is something else that you can help me with. Something special that I can give Margaret the day we wed.”

“Have you anything at all in mind.”

John pulled out the swatch of fabric that Mr Stevens had kindly given him, “I’d like a necklace and earrings, something not too gaudy but that would go with this fabric.”

“Is her wedding gown to be made from this,” John nodded his affirmation, “sapphires would suit that best, with maybe a diamond.” Mr Jeffries stepped back into his strong room before bringing out a couple of examples. He laid them out on top of the counter.

John picked up the first, it’s ‘y’ shape was alluring but the stones were large and the whole necklace felt heavy. He sensed that Margaret’s neck would probably suffer from wearing it all day. He placed it back onto the velvet cloth before picking up the next. The mid blue coloured sapphires would match Margaret’s eyes as well as show off the colour of her dress and were set in tiny flower designs interspersed with diamonds winding their way around the whole circumference that would sit around her neck and over the points of her collar bones. It was perfect and he couldn’t wait to see her wearing it, couldn’t wait to put his fingers to the nape of her neck and unfasten it for her. “Are there earrings to match?”

“Yes, Mr Thornton,” Mr Jeffries returned from his strong room for a second time with the items handing them over to John.

They were so delicate and so fitting for his Margaret, he knew she would love them. “I’ll have them Mr Jeffries. Can you keep hold of them for me; I want to give them to Margaret just before our wedding, if I take them now I’m liable to give them to her before then, spoiling the surprise.”

“Of course, Mr Thornton. Come back for them when you are ready.”

“Thank you, Mr Jeffries. Oh, there’s one other thing. Margaret’s wedding ring, can it be inscribed?”

“Yes, Mr Thornton, what would you like engraving on it?”

“My heart is yours, forever.”

“Very good, Mr Thornton. I will have that done for you.”

“Thank you, Mr Jeffries; I’ll collect the engagement ring on Monday.”

“Yes, Mr Thornton. Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Good bye, Mr Jeffries,” and with that he returned his hat atop his head and walked back to Marlborough Mills. He couldn’t wait to see Margaret’s face when she opened her presents from him, although that happy event would have to be put off for a little while as he wanted her to be surprised with his thoughtfulness. He hurried along the path wanting to return to his beloved as quickly as he could, in truth he wanted to make sure that she was out of reach of her mother after the shocking display that ensued between them earlier on. The last thing he wanted was for his mother to upset Margaret anymore than she had already done, he hated to see Margaret’s eyes shine with tears instead of happiness.

He opened the gate to the factory yard, closing and locking it behind him before dashing across the courtyard and into the house. He ran upstairs and into the drawing room. “Mother, are you on your own?”

“Yes, John. If you’re looking for Margaret she’s in the garden, she took a book with her, wanted to be warmed by the sun’s rays, indeed.”

“Mother! I warned you earlier on. Don’t you think you’ve upset the apple cart enough today?” She didn’t respond to his question but the disapproving look was there when he took off his coat, stripped his neck of his black tie and rolled up his sleeves. “Not a word. I am in my own house and as such can do as I please with my attire.” He shot her his dazzling smile as she shook her head before he quickly returned down the steps and out into the garden.

He stood mesmerised by the sight of her; she’d changed her gown since he’d seen her earlier on. Admittedly it was one of Fanny’s old ones but she looked enchanting in the ivory gown with its antique lace, the shorter sleeves and slight v-neck allowing John a glimpse of Margaret’s creamy skin. She’d allowed her hair to be taken down as well, the sides had been plaited and pinned on her crown but the tresses had been left loose, hanging down her back in one long dark chocolaty brown curtain. If he’d not known it was her, he’d had believed her to be an angel. His angel. “Didn’t you tell me that I would wear my eyes out if I continued to stare at you on our walk home from the station the other day?” She asked him teasingly, never letting her eyes drift up from the page in her book.

He laughed, “aye, I did but I can’t help it!”

She looked over to him, her eyes boring into his, “then, Mr Thornton, I’m afraid you may go blind.”

“Never, my angel.” He crossed the distance to her taking a seat next to her in the glorious sunshine, his magnificent smile never wavering. “Besides, you haven’t stopped looking at me either since you spied me.” He mocked.

In truth, he was correct. She couldn’t help but look, he seemed so relaxed when his tie was gone and his shirt sleeves were rolled up. She assumed that the somewhat forbidden sight of her flesh was having the same effect on him as seeing his neck and strong forearms was having on her. She wanted to reach up and run her fingers along the line of his jaw feeling the day’s dark stubble under her tips, wanted to trace the line of his inviting lips, pull his head down to meet hers in order to place a kiss against his mouth, she wanted the feel of those strong arms around her, have his long fingers splay down from her waist over her hips but she knew it wasn’t allowed, that even a chaste action would be frowned upon. And, as if to put pay to any ideas she had, she looked up to the dining room window. “We’re being watched.” She said flatly.

John averted his gaze up toward where Margaret was looking, seeing that his Mother was stood watching them. He turned his attention back to Margaret, taking one small hand into his and bringing it to his lips, placing the sweetest kiss on her palm. She could do no more than rake in a steadying breath, sure that her corset would split from the extra exertion her now erratic breathing was generating. “I can’t wait to kiss you properly, Margaret,” he began, “to hold you in my arms, run my hands through your hair, and have you do the same to me. And all in front of her too,” he said with mischief in his voice.

“You may regret ever saying that.”

“I will never regret saying that; I just hope I don’t embarrass you with my northern ways. You see, I fully intend to kiss you at every opportunity, in front of mother, in front of the servants, in fact in front of everyone. You shall never be safe from me, little one. At dinner parties we will be the talk of the town when they discuss my inappropriate behaviour of showing the world what my wife means to me.”

She laughed along with him, “whose to say it will just be your inappropriate behaviour they will be talking about. We are equals aren’t we? I believe there will be times when I shall want to show the world exactly how I fell about my husband.”

“Then we truly are a fitting pair.”

“Yes, we are. John, I love you.”

“And I you, my Margaret. Now, as tomorrow is Saturday I thought that maybe we could go for a picnic if the weather is good.”

“That would be lovely, but I want to visit Mary in the morning if I may?”

“Of course, little one, take as much time and as many supplies as you need, just promise me one thing?”

“What?”

“You’ll make sure my mother knows where you are going and for what purpose, I like seeing you get the upper hand with her.”
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North & South: A Continutation