Hello everyone! I'm so sorry this took so long. Don't worry, it's not abandoned! I hope you enjoy this next instalment, and thank you for all your lovely reviews.

"Open it, Margaret!"

"Come to my room, Edith. We will have less chance of being interrupted."

Once they were safely behind Margaret's door, Edith turned to her again.

"Has Mr Thornton written as well?"

"I assume so. Mrs Thornton's letters are never as long as this." She pulled at the seal.

"I do hope he speaks about something other than his mill."

"I did ask about the mill, Edith. And you know what he as promised."

Edith sighed. "Yes, yes, now get on with it! I want to know what he has written!"

Margaret pulled the letter open, gladdened when a second, thicker epistle fell out of the first. She reached for that one, unable to deny the urge to read his words before his mother's.

Miss Hale,

First, I must thank you for not immediately throwing my letter in the fire. I am immensely glad that you read it and felt able to respond. My mother asked for an accounting of what you had written, but did not ask to read your letter, just as I thought she would not. I am, however, completely unable to lie to her, so she really need not read the whole thing to suspect when mischief is afoot. She knows me far too well I am afraid. But fear not, I have promised business, and business shall be the order of the day.

Shall we start with the dye factory? You are right to think that it would make sense for me to lack the ability to haggle given my dependence on the factory, however, in this case the factory would lose more than I would, should I withdraw my custom. They are not he only dye factory in Milton, and they must stay competitive should they wish to keep my account. I do a great deal of business with them, and they are aware I could just as easily go elsewhere. That is what gives me the power here. They lose nothing should Hamper decide to use his own mill to dye his cloth as they have no surety of his custom, and so they make sure to get the most out of him when he does require their services.

Does that explain it clearly enough? Do not fear asking questions of me, Miss Hale. As my newest and youngest business partner you may ask whatever you wish. I cannot abide dull minds and I could never censure your curiosity.

As for the trains, mills have used trains to transport goods for far longer than trains have been used to transport people. You are right that it is more expensive than a cart, but it is immensely quicker, and the product is far less likely to fall off and become ruined because of a mere rut. We can also transport far larger quantities, which makes the expense less than sending several smaller loads. I have a ledger from a previous owner of the mill with his workings on the advantage of one method over the other. Should you like to see it, I will happily provide you with a copy.

The carding rooms are indeed as loud as the weaving room. Due to the position of my mill, the carding rooms are the smallest rooms, and therefore can seem much louder when you are in them due to the confined space. Once outside, they are indistinguishable from the noise of the weaving room. They merely add to the din.

Higgins was glad to hear from you. He bids me tell you that he, Mary, and the children are thinking of you. I must again thank you for sending him my way. He is an exemplary worker, and sharp as a tack. I can see why you are such good friends.

I think we may safely say we have covered enough business for one letter. I would like, if it is not too much, to speak of your brother. I was exceedingly glad when you wrote your explanation of that night. It was certainly a great weight off my mind, knowing that what I thought you to be and what I thought I knew you to be could be reconciled in such a way that I could only think better of you.

I understand why you could not say anything to me at the time, and I am sorry my bitterness allowed me to treat you harshly. I told myself you would not behave in a way you deemed wrong, yet continued to act like you had indeed done something very wrong. It should be I asking for forgiveness, not the other way around. Please forget all my words. I am heartily ashamed I ever uttered them. And as I said when you left, I struggled to think badly of you, even when I convinced myself you could not be as truly good as I had presumed. I was happy indeed to allow myself to continue to think well of you.

I will finish here, with an enquiry to your family's health. Is your cousin well? I am sure your nephew is more than well id he has you caring for him.

Thank you for your reply, Miss Hale. I am glad indeed that you have not seen fit to tell me off for my daring.

Your most willing, newest business partner,

John Thornton

P.S. I will save the story of the snapped belt for a time when we have less business to discuss. Be assured, it is as boring a tale as could be. We not receive a reprimand for speaking of it I am sure.

"Well?"

Margaret laughed. "Such impatience is unseemly, Edith. You are not so very ladylike right now!"

"Oh pish! Nothing here can be classed as proper behaviour so I am free from your strictures."

"You are very right, Edith. Mr Thornton writes of some other aspects of the cotton process that I asked about. I had questions about dying and transporting the product."

"Margaret!" Edith moaned, flopping gracelessly on the bed.

"What?" Margaret could not keep her amusement from her tone. "You knew it would be business, you cannot blame me for your expectations."

"Surely he speaks of more than that!"

"Fortunately for you, he does."

Edith gasped and sat up. Margaret smiled and handed her the letter.

"Just read it, Edith. And no more complaining about my questions. Without them he would never have written in the first place."

Edith gave her an impertinent look and happily grasped the pages. Margaret turned to Mrs Thornton's neglected letter and began to read, ignoring the murmurs coming from Edith.

Marlborough Mill

Miss Hale

I thank you for your reassurance of good conduct. Truth be told, I should not like to take something from my son that gives him pleasure, and to have your promise that you will behave certainly helps with any misgivings I may feel. It is rather strange to be hiding something that could cause harm should it be discovered, but as long as we are careful (and you do indeed make use of this to ask your questions regarding industry), I will continue to allow it.

We are both well here. I must agree with you about London, for on the very few occasions I have visited the city, I was struck by how smoky the place is actually is. It can be amusing to watch people attempt to excuse the smog over one city while blaming it for all manner of ailments in another. Who knew that London smoke was so much healthier than northern smoke?

I have indeed ventured up into those hills from time to time, however it has been a good many years since I have visited the tops. I believe John was still a boy the last time I went, for I took him with me to show him what he would one day be responsible for. This was before Fanny's birth, so he must have been around ten.

We did live in the country for some time, but I doubt it was the same kind of countryside you are used to. It was a small town, a cheaper place to live, and we were surrounded by fields. There were no forests, and very little in the way of wildlife, excepting, of course, the livestock kept on nearby farms. After that quiet, unsure existence, I now appreciate being in the busy town far more than I did before. Being in Milton means security. I am happy to overlook its jostling streets for that.

You are correct about the green. It is a ghastly colour.

Yours,

Hannah Thornton

That certainly gave her a great deal to think on, but before she could consider anything, Edith was asking her questions.

"Who is Higgins?"

"Higgins is a man whose daughter I befriended. He is a good man, if a little outspoken at times, and now take care of the children of a man who died due to the events of the strike a while back."

"Why does Mr Thornton thank you for sending Higgins to him?"

"Nicholas was a union leader. He did not get along with the masters and none of them would take him back after the strike. I convinced him to ask Mr Thornton for work. I knew that Mr Thornton would treat them fairly. At first he refused to take him on, but later found him to apologise for being rude and offered to employ him. Nicholas is very smart and I knew they could work well together, if they could only get past the idea of masters and unions being at odds."

"They must get along now."

Margaret laughed. "I would not be surprised if it was quite an antagonistic form of getting along. For all that they respect each other they are happy to disagree, I would think. I imagine Nicholas especially would take pleasure in riling up Mr Thornton."

Edith seemed amused by this, but her expression soon turned knowing.

"I think this letter proves he no longer dislikes you."

Margaret could not help flushing. "I am finding it hard to deny it now."

A giggle was the response she received.

"I still hold that it does not necessarily mean he thinks of me as anything more than a friend."

She was clearly not convincing Edith, but she let it go with a doubtful hum and stood.

"I really must see Sholto. I imagine you would like to reply and do not wish me sitting at you shoulder as you do so. But do let me know should you wish to finally confess your undying love for Mr Thornton, I certainly would like to see how you do it."

"Edith!"

Edith merely laughed and left her. It took a few minutes for the blush on her face to fade, and only once it did, did she feel composed enough to attempt a reply. She decided to write to Mrs Thornton first.

Harley Street

Mrs Thornton,

Thank you for your enlightening letter. It never occurred to me that the city could hold an allure beyond that of convenience. But I must admit that I begin to think of Milton the same way. My family was whole for the last time in Milton, and, despite the circumstances, being brought together in Milton ensures a fondness of my home that I cannot overlook. Town does not hold the same memories that Helstone or Milton (no matter how much I love my cousin), and I consider them both home. I have nearly always spent my time in town wishing to be elsewhere. It does not engender loyalty in me. It is strange, wishing to elsewhere, but with such experience that I have in other places, I find it natural to not think of London as home, merely a stopping place until I move on again.

I still feel extremely lucky to have gained your approval. I could not have blamed you for never replying to my first letter, but to allow what you have – I will be forever grateful. I know you do not necessarily do it for me, but I am still very glad of it.

Thank you for allowing me a glimpse into your lives. I know it cannot be easy to talk of such a time.

Yours, most gratefully,

Margaret Hale

She set the letter aside and sat back. Before she could write her reply to Mr Thornton, Margaret needed to gather her thoughts. Mrs Thornton's letter gave her another view of that time in their lives when they lost everything. Mr Thornton had told her of his mother's efforts to keep them secure, but she never thought to know of Mrs Thornton's feelings of the time. Just admitting that Milton symbolised security told her how unstable her life must have been. Cast out of her home, with a small child and young boy to care for, Margaret could not imagine how she must have struggled.

Even with Mr Thornton working, setting aside enough money to save enough to pay back her husband's debts must have been an incredible test of her self-control. No wonder Mr Thornton admired her! With such an example of discipline in his home, it was somewhat clearer to Margaret now why he felt something that had seemed to her like contempt for the poor men who wallowed in their own misery.

The letter did make her wonder though, what kind of childhood he had had before the tragedy of his father. She was sure he was around fourteen when it happened. That gave him plenty of time for a young life unencumbered by sadness. What would he have been like as a boy? She wondered about his behaviour. Was he always good? He certainly shared a close bond with his mother, but had it always been like that? Or was it their shared experience that drew them together?

Deciding to set those thoughts aside to consider later, Margaret drew a new piece of paper towards herself, and began her letter.

Mr Thornton,

Thank you ever so much for answering my questions. I did fear occasionally that you would think me impertinent for questioning your decisions, but I am glad that is not the case.

I have found that you have answered my questions so well that I cannot think of anymore! What a poor business correspondent I am, filling two letters with questions and running out of things to talk of! This simply will not do. Do forgive me, I must stop and think of something before I continue. I have promised to speak of industry and so industry I must think of.

Margaret put her pen down. How could she not have thought this this far ahead? She had been too busy thinking of his past to think of his present, and now her letter must wait until she thought of something she could ask.

Letting her mind wander, she thought back to seeing him in the mill, king of his dominion, seeming so very powerful up on those walkways above the looms. Recalling his imposing presence set her to thinking about the time she caught him in his temper at the smoking worker. She certainly would not dare do such a thing, to think that this man had done it before and was willing to risk Mr Thornton's rage; he was either stupid or stupidly brave. Margaret could not decide which.

Finding no questions were coming to mind, Margaret resorted to using their post scripts as inspiration.

I seem to have run dry of questions, Mr Thornton. Perhaps next time you could be so kind as to not answer so thoroughly – I would be much obliged. As it is, I think it is time you divulged your story about the snapped belt. I assume the looms were involved? I confess they are the only machines I have seen actually in motion so I am having some difficulty working out exactly what could have happened.

Perhaps you could explain how your workers use the looms? They seem dreadfully complicated to me, and yet to have so many working in such a regimental manner, the process must be rather simple. Do you find people get in each other's way a lot? I cannot imagine work goes smoothly if everyone is always tripping over one another.

Have you seen Nicholas and Mary recently? I do so miss them and the children, will you let them know for me? Do you know how Mary gets on with teaching them all? I must admit that while I enjoyed my visits, I would find it exhausting to care for so many young children all day long. There is not very much I can do from all this way away, but if there is anything I can assist her with, will you tell me? I know they will not accept money, but if there is anything I can provide, I would dearly like to know. I feel so very useless here sometimes.

I do thank you for your enquiry about my cousin, she is very well. I confess I have told her about our letters (I could not keep this from her and she finds it all rather good fun thankfully), but she will keep our secret quite happily. Sholto seems to grow by the day. He toddles about the house, frequently having escaped his nurse while her back is turned (that, or she is secreting herself away for sneaky naps – I find it remarkable how often Sholto is able to open the nursery door without her notice) and adventures to where he really should not be. The other day I caught him about to descend the stairs alone! I am grateful he is not my child for I would age far too prematurely if I had to raise him. He has his mother wrapped around his little finger (and his Auntie Magret though she does not care to admit it) and will surely get away with all manner of mischief when he is older.

Is it always the case do you think? While I was loved very well by my parents, my mother undeniably favoured my brother over me (I did not resent either of them for it however), and allowed him a great many chances when he would traipse mud in the hall or get caught pestering a nearby farmer's chickens. Perhaps there is something to be said for mothers and sons.

I am glad that my letter allowed you to finally think well of me. I confess I did hope it would. I could not bear the thought that you could have my explanation and still reject it. When I did not receive any reply for those first few weeks, I convinced myself to give up hope and move on. It was such a relief to receive your note in your mother's letter. I had not smiled so much in months. And as for your words, please consider them forgiven and forgotten. I could not hold such a thing against you when you are not to blame. My actions caused much grief, it is not your fault you were angry. Can we agree to put it behind us? I would shake on it except for the fact we are so very far apart.

I have thought of a question to ask you, Mr Thornton, though it is not a business question. Please do not feel you have to answer this for it is personal at best, and deeply intrusive at worst.

Do you remember what your father looked like? I am worried that the longer she has been gone, the more detail I forget about my mother. I fear losing her completely, and the thought of eventually beginning to forget my father fills me with anxiety.

Forgive me, if you do not wish to answer. I do not know who else I could ask about something like this.

I will end here. I look forward to your next letter.

Yours,

Margaret Hale

Margaret sat back, a little surprised at the wave of grief that assaulted her part way through her letter. When first faced with the prospect of forgetting her parents, she had decided to battle through alone. To ask Mr Thornton was forward. But then, he had hidden a letter away for her. She would just have to call them equal.

Letter sealed and sent, Margaret joined the rest of her family in the parlour. Upon sitting however, she found that Edith looked a little agitated.

"Are you well, Edith?"

"Oh yes, perfectly fine, thank you." She would not look her in the eye.

"Edith."

"Oh, very well. Henry has requested to call."

Margaret sighed. "I see."

"If he comes to apologise, will you hear him out?"

She did not want to, but her sense of fairness won out. This was, after all, his brother's home. He could not be barred indefinitely because of her.

"I will listen to what he has to say. But I will not forgive a meaningless apology."

"I would not expect you to, Margaret."

"Thank you, Edith. That makes this far easier to face."

"Do not fear. He shall have to apologise in front of all of us, so we shall see if he is sincere or not. We shall let him know he may come. He knows what is expected of him."

Margaret merely nodded. It was not how she supposed she would spend the evening, but having it out the way would allow her to move on and stop worrying about an accidental meeting.

Henry was invited to dinner under the assumption that what he had to say was satisfactory, and he arrived exactly at the appointed time. To Margaret, he did not appear affected when told he would say what he must in front of the whole family, but then she supposed as a lawyer he must be used to surprises in a public setting. He seemed to take in the room for a moment before deciding to sit across from her. He spoke directly to her, but did not presume to attempt to make the conversation private.

"Miss Hales, are you well?"

"I am well, Mr Lennox."

He waited for her to continue, but she had no intention of doing so. Until he made his apology she would treat him distantly and make no overtures of friendship. It may have been rude, but Margaret found that her patience for societal niceties had vanished, and wanted this done, one way or another.

After a moment of floundering, Henry began again.

"I have come to apologise, Miss Hale."

She remained silent, offering no encouragement.

"My behaviour has been unjust. You are correct, I have no right the direct your life, and should not have spoken to you the way I did. I was unpardonably rude, and I beg your forgiveness."

Margaret considered him, a regal head tilt giving her a queenly bearing.

"And what of my friends?"

"Pardon me?"

"What of my friends, Mr Lennox? You made no secret of your disdain for them."

"Oh. Well, it was wrong of me to speak of them so. I shall not do so again."

Margaret stared at him long enough that he began to look uncomfortable. When I began fidgeting, she asked another question.

"Are you not sorry for the way you spoke of my father?" Her eyes flashed as she spoke, and ever her aunt on the other side of the room could see him sweating. He appeared to look around the room for help, but none was forthcoming.

Taking a deep breath, Henry tried to look contrite.

"I am indeed sorry for the way I spoke of your father. He deserves only my respect and shall receive nothing less from now on."

Margaret nodded and turned away. She was not entirely satisfied, but could see that her family wanted her approval of him. She gave a slight tilt of her head to Edith, who turned to the captain and whispered in his ear. Upon his rising, Margaret stood and took his place on the settee by Edith. She would allow Henry forgiveness, but she would not immediately let him behave with her as he had. She truly felt like she did not know him well enough anymore to keep their previous friendship, and resolved to remain acquaintances until she could see that he meant his words.

Henry was allowed to remain for dinner but did not stay long after. He took his leave of all of them individually, saving Margaret for last. She remained stoic through his overture and he left crestfallen.

Relieved that he had finally gone away, Margaret let herself relax. Edith immediately began to speak of the evening.

"He was very civil."

The captain laughed. "He did not have much choice, my dear. He could hardly have come behaving as he did last time and not expect to be dragged out by the ear."

"I suppose. What did you think Margaret?"

"I think he was sorrier that he had to apologise than he was for anything he had done."

Edith looked shocked. "Do you really think so?"

"Yes. He has apologised, however, and so you may invite him as you wish, but I will not be able to treat him as I once did. We cannot be friends."

"Then I only hope his behaviour changes for the better."

Everyone agreed and conversation moved on to less fraught topics.

That night, Margaret could not help but lie awake considering the two men she had rejected. How different they were!

The one she had wronged apologised so sincerely for apparent misdeeds – when he need do nothing of the sort. The other was unable to see what he had done to wrong her. Every comparison she made had Mr Thornton come out as the victor. Henry was spiteful. Even when Mr Thornton was in a position to truly wound her he did not. He never let her family suffer for her actions. She could not say that Henry would have done the same. They had both been jealous (wrongly) but only one of their opinions had cut her to the quick. Even though Mr Thornton could not approve of her friendship with the workers, he never sought to prevent her from contact with them. It was clear that Henry would quite happily stop her from speaking of her friends in Milton, never mind actually contacting them.

Edith's words from earlier spun round her mind. She certainly could not deny that Mr Thornton now no longer hated her. She would quite happily go so far as to say he liked her, but would not hazard a guess to the degree. Her thoughts swirled as she considered what Edith had told her in the park earlier that day. Did she have the power to catch Mr Thornton? Did she want to? She thought back to his passionate proposal and could not help but compare it with Henry's. No man suffered from the delivery of their address, but both times she had felt helpless to stop what would only bring pain (although in both cases she admitted she did not believe either man felt a true love for her) and she tried to think on what she might do if either man asked her again.

Henry, she knew, would be rejected immediately. He did not love her the first time he proposed, and any affection she felt for him was currently being washed away by his lack of compassion and inability to tender a real apology. Mr Thornton was a trickier beast. Would she reject him? Although dismissive during his proposal, she now thought that she had been wrong to accuse him of not loving her. He did not think merely in terms of profit. He would not view her as a possession. She would certainly not reject him immediately. She shivered slightly at the prospect of being engaged to Mr Thornton. The memory of being held in his arms still brought her comfort, and the thought of having the right to be held by him whenever she pleased brought such a feeling of pleasure she wondered that she was even considering a future where she said no to a second proposal. Even in this hypothetical dream she did not like the idea of sending him away.

But did she love him? She was sure that she could only marry for love, and she was surprised that she would think of marriage without the certainty of her feelings. Her thoughts were becoming muddled. What set Mr Thornton apart from all the other men she knew?

She did not compare him to others, but rather thought on how others measured up to him. Did she know any other man who treated his mother with such respect? Did she know any other man who would treat a family unconnected with himself so kindly? Did she know any other man who had to bear such responsibility from a young age, who understood hard work and self-control, who would not look upon her wish to learn with scorn? She did not know any other man who could say yes to all these questions. She did not know any other man who could keep her lying awake as she did now, battling with her feelings. She surrendered to the thought that she cared deeply for him, and hoped beyond hope that it could be enough.

She fell asleep with thoughts of how eminently superior Mr Thornton was to the other men of her acquaintance.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Once again my excuse is work! I thought it would get a bit easier but due to some unforeseen circumstances exactly the opposite has happened. I'm going for a hopeful 'things should calm down in a couple of weeks' which should give me more time, but I'm not going to give a time frame for now since I'm clearly useless at sticking to them! Rest assured, this story won't be abandoned (i've got it all planned out, just not written), so it just might take a little while for each chapter to appear. Please let me know what you think!