Mrs. Thornton was a proud woman. And to her mind, she was so with good reason. After her husband's untimely death, she had been left with two children and a mountain of debt. But not once had she bowed and scraped to another person for their charity. She had risen to the task of caring for her children on practically nothing, and she felt stronger for the hardship. She had been right to depend on herself.

She also knew she had done right in the way her son had accepted his responsibilities, of leaving school and taking work with nary a complaint. She had clearly fulfilled her duty as a mother if her son knew what was right by his family. In addition to the meager payment he brought home each week, he offered her his confidence, and she was eager to promote and encourage his ambition. With such a son, was it any wonder she clung to him as she did? As he grew and progressed, he became the man she wished her departed husband had been.

So there had been no reason for her to change herself or her ways, not when the manner in which she lived was rewarded by such good fortune and prosperity from her son's profession. Her judgments and prejudices toward others, such as high-minded parson's daughters, were only right. Never before had she cause to doubt that.

But once her ire had subsided after her argument with her son the day before, she was forced to confront a hard truth. Either she must change herself and do something to accept that girl in her life, or she would lose her son. Not that he would abandon her with nothing, but she would certainly lose the love that was so valuable to her if she continued in such a way.

He had arrived home very late the night before, so late that she had retired to bed long before his return. However, she was determined to see him before he left the house again. She was up early and awaited his entrance into the dining room, anxious fingers tapping rapidly on the table.

After what seemed like an eternity, although it was earlier than she expected, he came. She barely registered the buoyancy in his step or the lightness of his shoulders before she spoke.

"John?" He turned to her. "I presume you will be visiting the Hales again today?"

A secret shine came into his eyes as he replied, "Yes, Mother, I will. In fact –"

"Then I wish to join you," she barreled over him, not wanting to hesitate. If she put off stating her resolve, she might lose her nerve. His smile altered quickly into an expression of surprise. "You were right yesterday. Miss Hale does need some female companionship, and I suppose if you persist in your habits, she will one day be very closely connected to me."

He smiled again. "Yes, Mother. Indeed –"

But she would not let him finish. "I have not made any effort to know her, after all, and she must be suffering at the loss of her mother. I am ill-qualified to give her the kindness I suppose Mrs. Hale wished for her," she admitted stiffly. "But for your sake, John, I will try."

There was silence as he considered her words. But it was with a gentle and understanding voice that he replied. "Mother, I think I know how difficult it is for you to admit a fault, so I am very grateful that you would make such an offer. Especially as you have doubted Margaret's affection for me."

She sat silently, still waiting for his agreement to her proposal.

"I hope you will not doubt her any longer. She has consented to be my wife," he said with a triumphant smirk.

Completely unprepared, her mind reeled and her body shook. "What? When?" she demanded.

As though there could have been another time. "Last night."

"You are not serious, John! At such a time for her family, she is accepting proposals?"

He sighed. "Is there no pleasing you? Just yesterday you were complaining that she had not yet accepted me."

She spluttered at the soft rebuke. "Well, I certainly didn't expect her to take you when her mother has yet to be put in the ground!"

His eyes now grew hard, and she could tell by the purse of his lips that he was restraining himself from bursting out in anger. She had gone too far. She must not lose him. Instantly she cooled her tone and spoke more quietly.

"Forgive me, John. I am only surprised," she said in a placating voice. To her relief, the stern look in his eye softened. "But you must admit it is rather an odd time, given the current situation."

Odd, indeed! She could think of more choice words for the occasion. But she would continue to bite her tongue.

Looking a little mollified at her sudden change, he nodded. "I concede the point, Mother, but it does not change our current understanding. If you knew all the circumstances, perhaps you would not find the timing so inappropriate."

"All the circumstances?" she repeated.

He winced, as though reminding himself of something, but he continued smoothly. "Yes. It seems that some of Mrs. Hale's final words to Margaret were counsel for her to accept me. And as soon as possible. Would you have Margaret defy her mother's last wishes?"

She took a breath, in need still of calming her nerves and shock. "No, I would not."

"And she has not. And it is true. Margaret has agreed to marry me." Any attempt he made to speak with sternness to emphasize the veracity of his statement was for naught, for he was positively gleeful that she was his.

She nodded. "Well, then, it is all the more appropriate that I call on Miss Hale. Today."

Why did he hesitate? "Mother, I do not know that –"

"I insist, John," she interrupted once more. "I will not have you accusing me of not knowing her and then blocking my efforts to make amends. I will accompany you to the Hales' today."

What was going through his mind as he stared, absently chewing the inside of his lower lip? Whatever it was, he did not tell her. He only sighed and said reluctantly, "Very well."

That would have to do.

It was clear that Dixon was surprised by Mrs. Thornton's presence on the doorstep later that morning, but she said nothing of it as she allowed mother and son entry into the house. Mr. Thornton felt more than a little ill at ease when in the company of the two women, and was quick to explain himself to Dixon.

"My mother has expressed a wish to visit with Miss Hale, Dixon," he faltered at the use of the servant's name, unsure if he was allowed to address her so. She had certainly never given him permission. It was done, however, and he continued. "Would you inform her we are waiting in the study?"

Dixon agreed and made her way up the stairs as he ushered his mother into the study. Mrs. Thornton's astonishment at such an affront was obvious.

"The study, John? Am I so low that I cannot be allowed in the drawing room like a proper guest?"

"Please, Mother," he admonished. "The house is still in mourning, and I don't want to disrupt it more than I already have." Indeed, he had caused a great amount of disruption the last few days, and a great deal more the night before. Enough that he had forgotten for several glorious minutes Mrs. Hale's passing.

She quirked her lips in disapproval. "I still do not know why I should not be seen up-" she stopped abruptly as the door opened and Margaret appeared.

Her somber face brightened on seeing him, but any excessive joy was muted by the presence of Mrs. Thornton. His mother made her shy, and she did not know how to properly greet her betrothed in company. She settled for reaching out a hand to him. "Good morning, John."

His name once more! He took her hand gladly and with a great deal of warmth. "Good morning, Margaret. My mother insisted on accompanying me today, especially in light of our engagement."

Her smile deepened and she turned with outstretched hand to her future mother-in-law. "Thank you so much for coming, Mrs. Thornton. It was so kind of you."

He breathed an inward sigh of relief. So Margaret was not angry he had brought his mother into the house. He had been afraid of her displeasure that he would risk her brother in such a way. Shuttering Mrs. Thornton away in the study so quickly was the only solution he could hit upon to keep Frederick undetected.

Mrs. Thornton took Margaret's hand stiffly, but without hesitation. "I felt it my duty to call on you, Miss Hale, for your mother's sake."

Margaret nodded soberly. "Yes, I understand. I am still grateful. John?" She inclined her head in his direction. "My father is in the drawing room and would be glad of your company."

Thankful for the dismissal, he quickly exited the room. True, he was exceedingly curious about the conversation between Margaret and his mother, but he was also afraid to be witness to it. His mother's purpose was kind, but her manner differed so greatly from Margaret's, he was unsure that any sympathy or well-wishes would be sincerely expressed or felt by either party.

To his surprise, Mr. Hale was not in the drawing room, but his son was. But of course, he thought, Margaret could hardly tell him that the man who expected him was her brother. And it was clear that Frederick Hale expected him, to judge by the disapproving lift of his eyes. This irritation was exactly what Mr. Thornton had been prepared for.

"I see you have already taken advantage of my good wishes, Mr. Thornton," Frederick began. His voice was not angry, but wary. "I did not think you would wish to test my approval of you in such a dangerous way."

"I assure you, Mr. Hale, that even were my mother aware of your existence, you would be in no danger. She would be as unlikely to give you up as I would. I promise you that. As it is, I have said nothing of you, and she would not let me keep her from calling on Margaret. Surely you can understand her reasons for such a visit?"

"Yes, but I question the wisdom of allowing it."

Mr. Thornton sighed. "When it comes to my mother making an effort with Margaret, I suppose that my wish for their eventual friendship overrides any wisdom I might have exercised."

Frederick's wariness turned into confusion. "What do you mean? Your mother does not approve of Margaret?"

He chose his words cautiously. "They are very similar in some ways, but my mother has had so little opportunity to truly know Margaret's character that she only acknowledges their differences. And I cannot say she is welcoming of those very different to her."

The scrutinizing look from the night before had returned. "I see."

There was another moment of silence and tension on Mr. Thornton's part, but soon enough Frederick sighed and invited him to sit. Apparently the young man had decided that there was nothing else to be done for the situation at hand and he might as well accept Mrs. Thornton's presence in the house.

"Where is Mr. Hale?" Mr. Thornton asked upon settling himself in a chair.

"He is with Mother. The funeral being tomorrow, there are final preparations and he will not have another opportunity to be with her. I doubt he will come down, even for you."

"I understand."

More silence. Mr. Thornton had hoped that Frederick's approval the night before might be a help to their speaking more comfortably, but bringing his mother had only succeeded in restoring the natural awkwardness of the present circumstances. There were only uncomfortable topics coming to mind as he cast about for something to say.

"How long will you stay in Milton?"

"I don't know. I was hoping for a week, but I may change my mind. At least the funeral is tomorrow."

"And you are planning on attending?" Mr. Thornton asked in surprise.

"Of course. Why would I not?"

"Forgive me, but is that wise? You are safe here in the house because you are concealed. You do not know who could see you and what could happen if you took the risk of going to the funeral."

"I suppose I should not be a support to my father at such a time?" A hint of anger was in his voice.

The last thing he wanted with Margaret's brother was an argument, but reason must be laid out, even if Frederick Hale chose to ignore it. "And what kind of talk would that create? As far as anybody here knows, the Hales have few friends and no family near. Would others not be curious as to who a stranger with your father is? Would they not ask awkward questions?"

This piercing line of questioning seemed to subdue Frederick's anger and he now looked pensive.

"Do you truly want to take that gamble on your life? Furthermore, do you want to subject your family to such speculation? You can be a greater support to them if you remain here, if they do not have added worries about you."

Frederick's head was bowed to the floor.

"You do deserve to pay the proper respects to your mother, Mr. Hale. I do not mean to imply that you do not. It cannot be easy for you to have to hide and be prevented from doing what must be natural to you. But you have already endangered yourself for your mother's sake so that she could see you. She would not ask you to risk yourself further by going out among people you know nothing of."

He lifted his face. "I know nothing of you, Mr. Thornton. Very little, at least."

"On the contrary, Mr. Hale. You know a great deal. You know that I love Margaret."

This final point effectively silenced Frederick. He sat back with a look of amazement and concession. If there was nothing else he knew about this daunting northern manufacturer, he did know of this man's feelings for his sister. Those feelings gave him a natural and overwhelming desire to protect her and her family. And that knowledge was enough for Frederick Hale, even if he never learned another thing about John Thornton. He nodded.

"And Margaret loves you," he finally spoke in reply.

Mr. Thornton gave a rueful half-smile. "Yes, as unbelievable as it may be, she does. One day I will have to ask why."

"Oh, she has her reasons, believe me," he responded as only a long-suffering brother would. "She decided to remind me of them in detail last night after you left, no doubt as punishment for interrupting you as I did."

He breathed a noiseless chuckle and smiled at the image of Margaret haranguing her brother, only too delighted to keep him from his rest. He was pleased that she would take such an elegant form of revenge. But another stern, intimidating voice suddenly broke into the conversation, shocking him at once out of his amusement.

"And she just finished reciting those reasons to me, so I ask you not to repeat them just now."

Both men whipped around in their seats to see Mrs. Thornton framed in the doorway, and standing in her shadow, looking defiant, pleased, and a little guilty, was Margaret.

Ha! Bet you didn't see that coming. After I wrote myself into a corner with John's argument with his mother, I thought, "Well, I guess I'll have to make her visit Margaret" to truly make this an angst-free version. And then that included letting Mrs. Thornton in on the Fred secret once she was in the house. Totally wasn't planning on that happening, but oh well. And I have no idea how that conversation between Mrs. Thornton and Margaret would go, so you will not be reading it. Sorry! But even though it wasn't planned, I still love the image of Mrs. Thornton suddenly appearing and scaring the boys.