Disclaimer: I own nothing, and have only borrowed the characters for a little while.

Author's Note: Set soon after the events of BBC's adaptation of Elizabeth Gaskell's "North and South" starring Daniela Denby-Ashe and Richard Armitage.

Dear Edith

I pray that this letter will not cause you distress, but my happiness and good fortune is so great that I must share it with you.

No doubt that you have heard from Henry, and presumed from my absence, that I have chosen to return to Milton.

I know that you may not understand my reasons, but my home here is here now. In the north.

It is not only business that keeps me here. You have heard me speak of Mr Thornton. One does not know how to share what I am about to say, and at a loss for words, I will come out with it directly. He and I are wed.

You know of my love of the simple life dear cousin. Oh, I even joked to Henry once that all I wanted to do was wake up on my wedding day, dress and walk to the church in the sunshine.

We were only missing the sunshine Edith! Everything else was just perfect. Nothing could lessen my happiness on that day, not even my new mother-in-law's great disapproval at such hurry!

I hope that you will not be too disappointed in your lack of attendance, but I trust that you will still rejoice.

Give Sholto and Aunt Shaw my love and write soon.

All my love, Margaret Thornton

As she signed off with the unfamiliar 'n' of her new surname, she felt the equally unfamiliar – but no less pleasurable – sensation of her new husband's hands coming to rest on her shoulders. He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. "Margaret," came the deep voice.

She pushed the paper and quill to the side. Standing, she rose from the desk and stood before him. His shirt was loose, the oft-present cravat long gone, skin exposed in the V. As her eyes rose to his face, his warm hands moved to the shawl covering her shoulders.

They exchanged no words, their eyes communicating from one to the other perfectly well – his dark eyes intense on her passion-filled ones – as his hands shifted and the shawl fell from her shoulders.

Her own hands ceased to be idle then as she reached for his cotton shirt.

His fingers moved to the ribbon of her nightgown next, each long digit taking oh so long to pull it free. His fingers trailed down her arm and their hands clasped together. In the still of the night, John Thornton led his wife to bed.

The following morning she woke up to his fingers gently tracing her features. Scrunching her nose when he found a tickly spot, she opened her eyes to find his dark ones looking down upon her. "I need to rise," he said softly. "There is much to be done."

She smiled. "I will join you."

He covered his lips with hers then. Pulling back, he bracketed her face. "I love you," he said seriously.

There was no hesitation, only certainty, as she caressed his cheek. "I love you too John."

Nicholas Higgins was good to his word. It had only been 72 hours since Marlborough Mills had been silent, but when the word passed around town that the mill was to be reopened, the men, women and children were standing six deep at the doors this very morn.

When Margaret Hale – now Thornton – stepped out the front of the house, she smiled as she saw the productivity before her. Workers moved, pulled, tied and shovelled like nothing had happened. Machines made a constant hum and she could already picture the fluff floating around the mill.

Nicholas passed her by with a heavy sack on her shoulder. He paused a moment, a grin on his face as he inclined his head in her direction.

She smiled back.

Tightening her shawl around herself, she turned her eyes to the factory. Standing on the topmost steps, she saw her husband surveying the courtyard, much like she had. His gaze fell upon her and she smiled, lightly raising her fingers from the material in a small wave. His mouth crinkled slightly at the edges as their gaze held for a long moment.

It only broke when the foreman spoke from behind Thornton and he turned away.

There would be time enough to see him, but just for now, she wanted to reacquaint herself with the mill. Her mill. She still found it hard to believe. Spotting Mary Higgins, she made her way down the steps and made a path for the outhouse.

Far above her on the third floor, Hannah Thornton looked out the window at her new daughter-in-law. She said nothing, but her face said it all.

Hmm.

I've been east and west and now I'm back again...