Surprise!


It was decided that they would indeed holiday to the seaside. Mrs Shaw had become restless in the heat of the city and was determined that they must go away. And so, within the space of a week, it was all arranged. Cromer was their destination, and ten days after Mrs Shaw's first despairing sigh, they were on their way with relatively little fuss. Mrs Shaw was too experienced a traveller to allow for delays in their preparations and with the captain's military efficiency, and Margaret's sensible calmness, Edith and Sholto were set on the train with no time for agitation.

Margaret thoroughly enjoyed the sudden burst of activity that came with their quick decision to uproot to the seaside for a few weeks. She even found that she was able to work companionably alongside Dixon, so light was her mood.

There journey passed with an ease that Margaret did not expect. Sholto was well rested and given the run of their private compartment, and so found nothing to be displeased with. He passed most of the train journey on Margaret's lap, babbling about the sights they could see from the window.

Their transfer from the train to their waiting carriage was a little less smooth, but the captain's cheerful way of dealing with the porter (who had somehow misplaced a suitcase) soon saw the issue dealt with, and the family on the last leg of their journey.

Upon arrival at the home for their stay, they all piled out of the carriage and made their way inside, inspecting the downstairs rooms and being well pleased by them. It took some hours for them all to settle, but once they had, they all sat to diner and discussed the upcoming week. It was determined that, weather permitting, they would all go to the beach the next day and enjoy the sea. Margaret looked forward to it immensely. The concerns she had for her northern friends had slipped from her mind in the excitement, and she was determined that would enjoy herself, regardless of her worries.

The next day dawned bright and warm. The family were in high spirits at breakfast and the joy followed them to the beach, which was half a mile from their lodgings. Margaret viewed the chaotic scenes on the promenade with barely restrained glee, watching the vendors selling their wares and listening to their calls and chants.

They spent a happy morning on the beach, all spread out on a collection of blankets. The ladies set up their picnic while the captain played with Sholto by the waters edge. Edith sighed wistfully as she watched them, and Margaret had a moment of something like jealousy for the first time since her cousin married. It was clear that Edith was happy, and that it was her husband and son that made her so. Pulling her eyes away from her cousin and back to the food, Margaret was determined to put it from her mind.

The rest of the week passed in a similar fashion. They all took great enjoyment in exploring the town and Margaret could understand why many were so eager to spend the summer holidaying at a seaside town. Once their days had settled into a routine, Margaret finally found the time to reply to her letters. On an overcast afternoon, the captain and Edith took a carriage for a call on some friends, giving Margaret a few hours to herself. Determined to finally reply, she made her way to her room for privacy, and began her letter.

Cromwell Road, Cromer

My Terribly Cruel Friend,

As you can see, we have made our way to the seaside! It is my aunt's doing, she suddenly decided that London was too confining and we must have a change of scenery to combat the boredom. Cromer is a wonderful little town, and I am thoroughly enjoying our time here. The beach is perhaps my favourite place so far, but there are some truly lovely walks not far from where we are staying that take my attention most days. The forests are different to my Helstone woods, but I do not find them wanting. We have friends currently staying not far away, so we do not lack for company.

I do apologise for my thoughtlessness regarding a certain dining room. However, given the lack of an explanation about a certain belt in your last letter, I find I am not sorry at all. I am only sorry that your mother had to suffer for my mistake. There, take that as you will.

I do hope that (ignoring any decorating discussions) you are well. It goes without saying that that includes the state of your mill, but I will not pry, regardless of your invitation to. I will only add that I am always thinking of it, because I know that you will do anything to keep it running. Nothing could make me happier than hearing all is well.

It does, however, bring me great joy to read of you and Nicholas getting along so well. But you cannot attribute it to me. If you and Nichols had refused to see each other clearly, none of this would have come about. I merely have you a small push in the right direction. You have done all the work yourself. I do enjoy hearing of your little discussions, and I can tell that you like each other. My father would have been proud to see how well you get on nw. He wished for peace between you more than anything.

Forgive me, I am getting sentimental. It is a few short months until he has been gone a whole year, and it has surprised me how long it has been. I miss him, but he will be happy with my mother, and the thought gives me comfort. I find I am no longer sad at the thought of his absence and can speak of them both perfectly happily.

I am glad that Mrs Watson enjoyed her visit to London. It seems strange to me that the capital is of such interest to some, but then I have lived there for many years and any glamour there may have been has long since fallen away. But that does not change that I wished for Mrs Watson to have a good holiday.

I am glad to hear that the children are making use of the slate and chalk. Little Tommy will be in good company. Have you seen much of Mary? I sometimes worry for her and hope that she is doing well. I know that Nicholas does not want her in the mill after Bessie's illness, but I fear that the children will be too much for her. Please tell her I am thinking of her if you see her.

Did you find out if Mr Watson is speaking of you to others? I imagine I am not the first to hear of his opinion, and I hope that if he is spreading private information, it is not detrimental to the mill. I find even harmless gossip distasteful and unnecessary, if it is not so innocent, it will lesson my opinion of him immensely.

But I think I have babbled on for long enough now, and you have more important things to think about. I will end here and allow you to return to your mill.

Your rambling friend,

Margaret

Sitting back in her chair, Margaret glanced over her letter. She had forgotten to mention any kind of business, but found that she had no urge to change that. There was no need for it anymore, and they had other things they could speak of. She was about to start her letter to Mrs Thornton but a commotion downstairs signalled that her cousin had returned, so she put it off for later. Going to great her cousin, she found that their friends had invited them to a party the next night, and that Edith had accepted on their behalf. Margaret found there was no anxiety at the thought of attending, and her spirits were buoyed at the thought of a night out with joyful company.

That night, Edith came to question her about her willing acceptance of the invitation and Margaret reassured her that she was indeed looking forward to the evening, and there was no need to fear.

"You really do not mind going?"

"Truly, Edith. I will not even demand you let me sit out any dancing."

"Oh, Margaret! Will you dance? You dance so well."

"If I am asked, I will dance."

"I am so happy to hear that, Margaret! I cannot wait to see you dancing again."

"I would not hold your standards too high, Edith. I have not danced since your wedding!"

"Oh nonsense. You do not forget how to dance."

"Very well! You must not judge me if I step wrong though."

"You will not, do not worry. I have complete faith in your capabilities."

The cousins laughed together for some time. Their spirits were raised due to the excitement of being away from home, in a new place, and their cheerfulness had not abated since they had arrived in Cromer. Even the routines they had that came with them from London felt new and refreshed. Margaret really could understand why holidays were so talked of.

The next day was overcast and drizzly. It gave Margaret time to write her letter.

Cromwell Road, Cromer

Mrs Thornton

Thank you for your wishes of an enjoyable holiday, we have certainly been making the most of our time away from London, and have no cause for complaint. We have been here just over a week, and will leave for London two weeks from today.

I must apologise for my carelessness in encouraging Mrs Watson to redecorate. It was truly an accident, I assure you.

Have you found more time for leisure? I do hope that the mill does not worry you overmuch, and you are not done in by working too hard. I cannot imagine how it must play on your mind, to be so troubled by something that you cannot substantially change by yourself. I hope all turns out well.

I am glad that you see my appreciation for Milton. I still think of it as home, and I shall certainly continue to think well of the place.

I shall not continue to keep you if you are busy, and I will not be put out should you find it hard to reply. I will understand completely.

Yours,

Margaret Hale

Margaret completely meant what she had written, but did worry that if Mrs Thornton could not reply, then neither could Mr Thornton. She very quickly shook herself from such selfishness however. The Thorntons had far more to worry about than returning her letters. Especially if things were as bad as she feared.

Putting her letters aside for posting, she some realised that it was time to dress for the evening. Edith had gifted her a pale lavender gown that morning, something she had bought some time ago and was waiting for the right moment to give it to her. Margaret loved the thought behind the present, and assured her cousin that she would wear it proudly that night.

Margaret allowed a happy servant to fiddle with her hair, and was quite pleased with the result. Thanking the maid (who was merely grateful to be given permission to play with Margaret's long hair), she made her way downstairs to her waiting cousin. After both gowns had been exclaimed over and hair patted appreciatively, they were escorted to the carriage by the captain. Mrs Shaw had declined the invitation as she had a prior engagement, so it was just the three of them that marvelled at the sudden emergence of the sun glinting off the wet pavements.

"Cromer is a decidedly pretty place."

"I could not agree more, Edith."

It did not take long for them to reach the party, and they disembarked with smiles lighting their faces. They were welcomed eagerly, and Margaret was introduced to their hosts. She found them pleasant people, very like her cousin and the captain, and liked them immediately. In the parlour, they were pulled into lively conversation as soon as they sat down. It was inconsequential chatter, but Margaret could not deny her pleasure at being there. All the guests were animated and intelligent, and laughter sprang up all across the room.

The time passed quickly, and soon they were called into dinner, Margaret being escorted by a gallant young man to her place. He seated himself next to her and he continued the story he had begun in the parlour.

"And then we climbed down from the window, crawled through the kitchen garden on our hands and knees, and after all of that, when we got to the side door, it was locked!"

They all laughed heartily.

"You certainly paint a picture of university, Mr Tannon!" Edith exclaimed. "Did you do any learning while there?"

"I assume there was some done, Mrs Lennox, though I cannot vouch for my Greek education. I fear that class I disregarded entirely!"

"For shame, Mr Tannon! You should not lie to us, we know you are a well-respected barrister, and this will not fly!" Edith was laughing.

"You have me, Mrs Lennox! I am as studious as the next wall flower, and enjoyed myself immensely. The odd misdemeanour notwithstanding!"

The group focused on their meal, striking up conversation with their nearest neighbours. Edith and Margaret spoke quietly to each other, both declaring how much they were enjoying themselves. Once the meal was over, the ladies withdrew, and the conversation turned to dancing. Their host assured them that her husband had promised the men would be ready and willing once they joined them, and not to fret.

The men soon entered the room and their hosts stood and opened a door to a second parlour where the furniture had been pushed back to make space for the couples. A young lady, who had turned an ankle earlier that week, had been asked to play, and the gentlemen found themselves partners.

Margaret accepted Mr Tannon's request to dance, and thoroughly enjoyed herself. It was thrilling to be moving quickly about the room, and she admitted to herself that it could certainly be an exhilarating form of exercise. Their dance ended almost too quickly, and she partnered with the captain for the next. They had a lively exchange, the kind of laughing intimacy found between siblings, giving their dance a bouncing feel, and those who had sat out noticed their cheerful movements.

Edith and Margaret danced until the party broke up, both leaning on the captain's arms with flushed smiles as they left. The carriage ride home was loud with their chattering, and they continued into the house, where they acquainted Mrs Shaw with their evening.

It was a slow and tired Margaret who climbed the stairs for bed, and she fell asleep immediately. The next morning, Margaret and Edith sat yawning together at breakfast, attempting to make plans for the day, but both of them were too tired to think clearly, and the planning was slow. In the end, the decided that the beach was the best place for them, and they arranged a picnic for the family.

The warm days passed slowly, and Margaret was determined to make the most of them. In their final week, Margaret was determined to make a reminder of her first proper holiday. She bought a small set of watercolours, and she spent several days sketching the beach and her family in various states of being. By the time it came to packing the house up for their return to London, she had painted five pictures and had several more sketches ready to finish. She was quite proud of her little paintings, and even gifted a small scene of Edith and Sholto together on a picnic blanket to her cousin, which was more than well received.

Back in London, the family settles back into life in the city, and their routines began anew. It was still warm in London, and Margaret took advantage of the weather to enjoy her walks through the parks. She had had no reply from the Thorntons, the longest time she had waited between letters, and she used her walks to wrestle with her worries. Three weeks after their return to London, she met a familiar face on her way home, having spent the previous hour pacing out her concerns for her northern friends, and feeling ever so slightly off balance, she attempted to be welcoming, but not warm.

"Mr Lennox." She nodded to him. "I am surprised to see you, I was not aware you were coming to the house."

"My brother has invited me to dinner and suggested I arrive before tea."

"I see." Margaret could feel the awkwardness building between them and cast about for a safe topic of conversation. "How has your work been?"

"Straight forward enough. We have been busy, but it is nothing we cannot handle."

Margaret nodded and they walked for a few moments in silence.

"How have you been, Miss Hale?"

"I have been well. I am sure you know that we have recently been to Cromer."

"Yes, my brother informed me. Did you have a good time?"

"We did. I enjoyed myself immensely. It was my first real holiday, and I certainly understand the appeal."

"Cromer is a good seaside town. I visited there with my family several years ago, and we found it an excellent place."

"Yes, I certainly would go again. I cannot think of a better way to spend a few weeks of the summer."

They had by now reached the house and they entered together, Henry going to see his brother in the study, and Margaret went to Edith.

"Did you know Henry had been invited to dinner?"

Edith looked up in confusion. "No, has he?"

"He is already here."

"Oh. Does that bother you?"

Margaret considered it. "Not particularly. We managed to be civil on the way here."

"Very well then. But I will have words with my husband for not telling me of guests."

Margaret laughed and left her admonishments. Meandering upstairs, she sought distraction from her thoughts with Sholto, missing tea altogether, and only going downstairs in time for dinner. In the parlour everyone had already gathered, giving Margaret a moment of relief that she would not have to engage Henry alone. Their previous arguments weighed on all the minds in the room, but Edith and the captain forged on and attempted to keep the atmosphere light.

Dinner passed companionably between them all, and the ladies were reassured as they left the gentlemen that there would be no repeat of previous acrimonious words. The Lennox brothers soon joined them, and Henry approached Margaret carefully.

"May I sit?"

She nodded. "You may."

He looked relieved and sat by her.

"Have you become settled in London?"

Margaret felt that was probably as close as Henry would likely get to the words that caused their argument, but did not feel like allowing it to become a topic of conversation again, and sought to keep it away.

"I am settled with my cousin. London itself has no hold on me."

Henry sighed quietly. "Are we never to be friends again, Miss Hale? We used to speak so freely."

Margaret thought back to his attempted proposal. "Perhaps too freely. But I told you last time we spoke my opinion of you. We may become friends again in time, but you cannot expect me to forget what you said. I forgave you, and I stand by it, but to assume the same level of intimacy after your high handedness is folly."

Henry gave a resigned nod. "I understand. But you will not send me away?"

"No. However, I do not wish to be called on alone. If you are visiting the family I will have no complaints, but do not call for me."

"Very well. Thank you for speaking with me, Miss Hale."

Margaret nodded and he moved away. Mrs Shaw took his empty seat and gave her hand a maternal pat. Margaret smiled at her and struck up a conversation about her aunt's travels the previous year. Henry soon came to give his goodbyes, and he was fare welled with perfect civility, if not the warmth he was used to.

Her family made sure to ask Margaret if she was well, and all were happy to hear her resolution to allow Henry to try again to become her friend. With her assurances that the rift may soon be pulled together, the family retired, completely content.

The next day saw Edith flying into Margaret's room mid-morning, quite unexpectedly, brandishing a letter in front of her. Once Margaret had recovered from being startled, she quickly realised that the letter was the Thornton's long overdue reply, and she practically snatched the paper from Edith's hands. Tearing open the seal, Margaret soon realised there was only one letter and a very brief note. Worried, she picked up the paper with a few lines on it in Mrs Thornton's hand.

Miss Hale,

Please forgive our neglect. Time has been a blessing we simply have not had. John has written for both of us.

We look forward to your next,

Hannah Thornton

Margaret frowned. Mrs Thornton's note did not set any of her fears to rest and she was uneasy about the situation. Edith was watching intently and shifted impatiently as Margaret continued to stare at the note. Eventually, Margaret merely handed it to her, and picked up Mr Thornton's letter.

Marlborough Mill

Miss Hale,

I do hope you enjoyed the rest of your holiday, you certainly seem to have revelled in your time away up to your letter. It sounds like the perfect place for a summer trip, and I imagine you will be the first to suggest such a trip in future. I cannot think the travel itself was any sort of bother for you, knowing, as I do, that you were responsible for your move to the north.

I have seen Mary a few times these last weeks and I can assure you she is well and asking after you. I have told her you are well and she found the thought of your holiday 'a right fine thing'. I think the children occasionally trouble her, but there are a few neighbouring women who step up to help when she requires it. For the most part she has them well in hand, and they clearly love her.

As for Higgins, I will simply not allow you to escape without taking the credit for it. To you, it may be a small push, but I assure you, to us it is no such thing. We owe you a great deal, so great it may not be possible to accurately measure.

The mill is struggling. There is no point denying it, you already know all is not well, and have good reason to be suspicious. While I have discovered that Watson's gossiping has come from his campaign to pain me as a fool (an odd thing to do to a brother law, in my opinion), he is not hugely wrong in what he has assumed is occurring at my mill. For all that he is no wiser than some common dullard, he does know his business.

Truthfully I do not know if we will ever catch up. The men are aware of what is at stake ad are doing all they can to get the orders finished, but I fear we never will. I will not burden you with what may happen should we fail to fulfil the orders fully, but I cannot imagine you to be unaware of what our worst case scenario would be, should it come to be.

You are certainly forgiven for your sentimentality. It does me good to hear that he would have been proud of my actions with Higgins, and it makes me glad to know that he would have been happy if he had known it. I keep his Plato close, even though I do not have time to read it. It keeps the Hales in my thoughts, which will always keep my spirits up.

I wish to apologise for how long it has taken to reply to your letter. The previous was written over two weeks ago, and it has taken me until now to find the time to finish, even after it took me two weeks to start this letter in the first place. My mother also asks that I include her regards and regrets that she cannot write herself. She will not want to admit this, but I believe the stress of the struggling mill has caused her to suffer and she has been unwell for the last week. She will not rest however, so I care for her the best I can. Please do not tell her I told you. But she does enjoy receiving your letters, and found your apology to her but not to me rather amusing.

I hope you can forgive me this time for not tormenting you with my story. Truthfully, I do not have the energy this time. I am sorry for writing such a dull letter. I fear this is not the usual correspondence you expect, but I believe you, more than anyone, will understand.

Your very tired friend,

John

Margaret sighed and set the letter down. There was now no doubt that her worries had been reasonable and to have it confirmed did not fill her with any satisfaction. And to read that Mrs Thornton was unwell and Mr Thornton so tired they could not write as they normally did filled her with sadness. There was nothing she could do, and she felt entirely helpless. Even after being told that both of them still wished to receive her letters, she could not help but feel she was silly to write about her frivolous holiday and her trifling little life in London. What use was that to them?

Their time was precious and valuable and they did not need to waste it on her meaningless life. Mr Thornton especially, who had worked so hard for so long, who only wanted to fully complete his education with her father, had no time to even do that. Her letters certainly could not help him achieve that goal. Her only solace was that he seemed to find it cheering to think of her family (until he specifically said it was her he thought of she would not admit that she dared hope it was her that was mainly in his thoughts), and so she would continue to write her letter and hope that they both continued to find joy in them.

Edith had let her sit stewing for long enough. She snapped back into her bedroom when her cousin prodded her, and gave her a tight smile.

"Is there bad news?"

"Nothing more than I suspected, but it is still enough to worry about."

"The mill, I take it?"

"Yes." Margaret fidgeted with the letter. "I think there is a chance her may lose it."

Edith was quiet for some time. "Is it likely?"

"I do not know. But if he has thought about it, there must be some risk that it will happen."

"Oh."

They sat in silence for some minutes before Margaret shook herself.

"Come, Edith. There is no point us both being silly about this. Leave me to do the worrying. Let us see what we may do to distract ourselves."

They were quite successful at forgetting their worries that day, and the next day brought a visitor that made a most wonderful distraction indeed. Margaret was summoned to the parlour after lunch where a wonderfully familiar face met her.

"Mr Bell! What are you doing in London?"

"Well I had to come down for some business concern or other, and I had the most wonderful idea to come and visit my goddaughter while I was here. Was it a good plan?"

"Oh it was indeed, Mr Bell. But come, sit, you must tell me how you have been."

He sat by her, taking one of her hands in his and patting it. "You do this old man good, you know, my dear. But no! We shall not speak of me, we shall speak of you! My spies tell me you have been on holiday."

They spent the next ten minutes speaking of the differences between Cromer and Oxford before Mr Bell came to the point.

"Truthfully, Margaret, I have come here to give you a little proposition. I have been thinking recently of your dear departed father, and it has given me a hankering to see where he was most happy once again. What say you Margaret? Would you like to visit Helstone again?"

"Truly? You will take me with you?"

"Of course, my dear. Why I could not think of a better companion to have on my journey. We shall make a proper trip of it and be all that is merry."

The arrangements were made, and the next day saw Margaret and Mr Bell board a train, bound for Helstone. Margaret was well entertained by Mr Bell's storied, but both fell quiet after boarding the carriage for the last leg of the journey. It was strange for Margaret to be here. She left year ago, with no thought of returning. How her life had changed since she left.

They eventually reached the only inn in the village and Margaret had to hold back a swell of emotion when the inn keeper's wife remembered her and swept her inside with a warm welcome. Mr Bell gave Margaret the afternoon to herself as he wished to rest after the journey. She immediately took herself off to her beloved woods, and wandered freely for several hours through her dearly missed glades. She emerged not far from the school where she used to help with children and determined to go and visit to see if any of the children remembered her.

She was received cordially by the unknown teacher, and could hardly believe how much some of the children had grown. She spent an hour helping the young ones with their letters, and left to a chorus of cheerful goodbyes.

Back at the inn, she met with Mr Bell and enjoyed a hearty dinner. It was decided between them that they would visit her old home the day after, before they left for London. Margaret found her heart and mind were full that night as she prepared for bed. Her little hamlet had not changed one bit, but she had changed almost beyond recognition. She hoped that the morrow would turn out just as wonderful as that day had been.

They set out the next morning, strolling arm in arm towards to parsonage. The first thing Margaret noted was the approach. When she had lived there, the house was almost hidden by the yellow roses Margaret's mother loved so much. Now they were gone. Margaret could find no trace of them as they entered the garden, and tried to hide how devastated she was at their absence.

Upon reaching the house, they were invited for tea in the garden by the parson's wife when she heard they were. She seemed as active sort of woman, but Margaret found her manner a little grating, especially when speaking of the 'improvements' they had been forced to make to the house and garden. The woman flushed when she realised what she had said to the previous resident of the home, but continued and tried to be welcoming.

Margaret was glad to leave the parsonage. It hurt her to feel a stranger in a place that was so precious to her, but she could not deny that she no longer felt like she belonged. Mr Bell sat her down on a bench as they wandered back to the inn and questioned her.

"You seem out of sorts, Margaret."

"I did not expect to find this place so different. I clung to the idea of Helstone for so long, I now see that I have been setting it on a pedestal it does not deserve."

"You have seen many different things these last years, Margaret. I am not surprised Helstone no longer holds the same glamour it used to."

Margaret nodded and looked out into the fields. Mr Bell sighed and took her hand.

"Margaret, truthfully I wished for this trip for another reason. I must be blunt, my dear. I am dying."

Margaret gasped and turned to him.

"Now, don't look at me like that, Margaret. I cannot take those sad eyes staring at me."

"Oh Mr Bell. Is there no hope?"

"None. My doctor has given me less than a year, and I find I am quite content about the whole thing. I was in London to settle my affairs."

Margaret nodded and looked down.

"Margaret, you must know, I have made you my heir."

She looked at him in shock.

"Yes. My family are a grasping lot who only want my money. Who else would be better than the daughter of my most loved friend, and by goddaughter? You will have it all, Margaret. And not after I am dead. You will have it within the month."

"Mr Bell, you cannot! What will you live on?"

"As for that, I am moving to Argentina. I want nothing of the horrible winters we get here. If these months are my last, I will not waste them in cold rain."

"But Mr Bell-"

"Now then, Margaret, you cannot refuse. I will not allow it."

Margaret sighed. "Very well, sir. I will not object."

"Good girl. Now, you will have to sign some things, but that Lennox boy is over it all, and I know you know him. Do not fret, my dear, I am quite resigned to it all."

They made their way back to the inn and boarded their waiting carriage. Once they were finally back on a train to London, Mr Bell began another conversation that had her off balance.

"Now, you don't have to answer this, Margaret, but are you fancied y anyone? Or has a young man caught your eye?"

Margaret flushed. "Mr Bell!"

He laughed. "I just wished to know if you have someone who will look after you."

"My cousin takes very good care of me."

"Not like that, Margaret. I did think to marry you myself, but that would hardly be fair to you, tied to an old man like me."

Margaret had no response except to stare. He caught her gaze and smiled.

"I did think you might have had something with Thornton, back up in Milton, but if you did, it obviously came to nothing."

Staring at her as he was, it would be impossible to miss her violent blush. He considered her carefully, and Margaret looked away to avoid his scrutiny.

"Was there something between you and Thornton?"

Margaret swallowed and shook her head.

"You are a clever girl, Margaret, but you cannot outsmart an old fox like me. You may as well tell me."

She looked to the window and tried to steady herself. She did not wish to admit her subterfuge to Mr Bell, but he seemed determined to understand. She was quiet for long enough that she worried him.

"Forgive and old man for prying, Margaret. I am being nosy."

"I am…friends with the Thorntons, Mr Bell. Mrs Thornton has been a helpful correspondent since I left Milton."

"I see." He paused for a few moments. "Just friends?"

She did not answer and he did not press. They arrived back in London a few hours later, still a little awkward, and made their way to Harley Street. Mr Bell was invited for dinner, which he accepted, and they both spoke of their trip to eager listeners.

Mr Bell also informed them all of his imminent demise and decision to make Margaret his heir. His pronouncement was met with shock and none of the seemed to know what to say. Even Margaret, who had several hours to wrangle with the thought did not really know how to react. Mr Bell left that evening with promises to return on the morrow with Henry Lennox to start the process of signing over his fortune. Edith had no words to discuss the shock with her, and all they managed were bemused shrugs.

The next day, Margaret met with Mr Bell and Henry, and spent an hour signing contracts. By the end of the morning, Margaret had become the recipient of nearly twenty thousand pounds. Mr Bell declared them done for the day and said Henry could arrange to transfer his other assets to her some other time. Summarily dismissed, Henry left, and Mr Bell surprised her once more.

"I have more business elsewhere this week, Margaret, and I'm of a mind to bring you."

"You would like me to accompany you? I would be more than happy to. Where are we going?"

"What do you say to a visit to Milton?"


Here's my apology for taking six months! Another chapter in less than six days! I hope you enjoy this one, I'm finally getting to where I want to be.

I have been meaning to respond to some comments and keep forgetting when I upload the chapter. I've seen a few requests for Mrs and Mr Thornton's POV of some of the letters, and while I don't plan on doing any in this story (in my mind it's firmly Margaret's story) I might do a few short stories separate from this one from other POV if it is wanted. After I have finished this story, of course! But if it is something you would like to see, please let me know, and I'll start the cogs turning.