A/N: Many heartfelt thanks to all of you who have kept up with this story and for encouraging me along the way. Enjoy the last chapter!

As he heard the click of the door closing behind his mother, Mr. Thornton could not help the rising of the corners of his mouth. He turned to Margaret. "I have something that I must discuss with you as well."

Mr. Thornton knew that he had a very small window of opportunity to speak frankly to Margaret. He knew that if he did not broach this subject now, he may never have another chance.

"Do you?" Margaret returned with a nervous breath. "I am interested in hearing you, if you will just allow me a moment to get this out before they return." She did not like the idea of having to present this plan before Henry, or even worse, his mother. Margaret could not anticipate how Mr. Thornton would react to her proposition if it was brought up between the two of them, but with an audience, she was even less certain.

"Please, Miss Hale, I am not sure when I will have another opportunity to say what I must tell you." Mr. Thornton began,

"I feel the same. I am leaving in the morning, and do not know when I will see you again." She felt her heart race at the thought of the uncertainty that lie before them.

"Precisely, this must be said tonight. I need to say—that is, what I am trying to tell you-" the words trailed off toward the end causing him to pause for just a moment to collect his thoughts.

"But, Mr. Thornton-" Margaret tried jump in once more. She could not fathom why he was making this so difficult for her.

"Wait." Mr. Thornton was firm yet undemanding. He stood and walked to join her on the settee. "I apologize for my rudeness in interrupting you, but I fear if you stop me now, I shall never have the courage to continue."

Margaret drew in a deep breath, "Then by all means, continue."

"Margaret, the mill is not doing well." He lowered his head after his utterance; it was as if his strength had fled his body alongside his words.

"Mr. Bell told me of the difficulties."

"Did he?" Everything in his manner stiffened when he heard her words, it was obvious that this information upset Mr. Thornton. He was not ashamed of his situation, as he was certain that he had done everything in his power to deter it, but he hated the idea of his failure being the subject of idle gossip amongst the privileged.

"He did. That is precisely why I wish to speak to you, it is a business matter regarding the mill." Margaret felt that whatever he had to say would be much easier if she told him of her inheritance.

"Margaret, please let me say this, I need to have my say." There was something of desperation in his eyes; she could not deny him—not any longer. Margaret simply nodded by way of a reply. "I mean to tell you that—how do I say this." He took her hands in his own and pulled them to his lap. "I have given every part of myself to that mill. I did it to get to where I am in my life, in my business. I did it for my family. Marlborough Mills has never just been a factory. All of my personal accomplishments are wrapped up in my position, all of my worth. Being the Master of my own mill is the best thing that I have ever done." He looked up at the ceiling, and Margaret angled herself toward him, his knees brushing her skirts. "The way that I have always lived my life, conducted my business, everything has been with the mill in mind." Mr. Thornton felt as if he had to gasp for air. Margaret wanted to tell him her piece and end his misery, but she thought better than to interrupt him once more.

"After I met you, I came to realize that I could lose the mill," he stifled a bitter laugh. "I am losing my mill," In a near whisper he added, "but I cannot live without you." Mr. Thornton grasped her hands tightly. "I only wish to say that I was a fool when I first asked for your hand," he freed a hand and cautiously brought it to her cheek, the need to touch her was overwhelming. "But I know that I would be an even bigger fool if I let you leave once more without telling you how I feel." He paused, he had never been one of those men that had an ability to say just what needed to be said at any given moment, but the words that he had were his own. "In a few months, I will have nothing to offer you." Margaret smiled, and he leaned in, his blue eyes piercing hers.

"Margaret," she could feel his breath as he spoke. "I have nothing to offer you, nothing but my heart, and that seems like such a small thing indeed." Mr. Thornton closed his eyes, he was swallowed in the intensity of the moment. Margaret placed a hand on the left side of his chest. She could feel it beating, hard and strong, beneath her touch.

"It does not seem such a small thing to me." Margaret's voice was a near whisper. Mr. Thornton sat up slowly, his hand still caressing her face.

`"Margaret, if I could only have you, losing the mill would be nothing. There is not a thing in this word that could make me happier. I would know that I could overcome any obstacle because I would have you by my side." Relishing her touch, he allowed his hand thumb to brush over her lips before pulling from her. Standing, Mr. Thornton moved to the mantle, allowing it to bear his weight. "Only I cannot ask you, it would be unfair."

Margaret stood and walked to him, she placed her hands on his shoulders. She could not imagine what he must be feeling, but she needed to help him, she would help them both. "What can you not ask me?"

Mr. Thornton turned to face her, causing her hands to rest about his neck. "Margaret?" He breathed out her name as they stood dangerously close to one another.

"John?" It took much less effort than she had imagined to say his Christian name, and there was something about it that was freeing. They were both overcome with emotion.

"Say it again." She could feel his breath warm against her mouth

"John." His next breath was long and staggered.

"Margaret, there is nothing in this world that I love as I love you." He allowed one of his hands to settle upon her waist. He could not believe the intimacy that she was allowing him. There were no words spoken for an eternity, but when the silence was broken, the spell that had affected them both seemed to only deepen.

"What can you not ask me?" Margaret asked once more.

He reached around his neck and brought both of her hands between them, holding them safely within his own. "I simply wished to know if you would do me the honor, the great honor, of being my wife."

"Yes." Margaret smiled.

"Did you say-"

"Yes, I said yes, John. I would be honored to be your wife." He laughed and pulled her to him, resting his head on top of hers. She fit into his arms so naturally that in that moment he felt sure that God had created them for one another.

"I love you, Margaret. I think that I always have." John pulled from her, only enough to see the light in her eyes, and wondered if she was as overcome as he was.

"John." Margaret whispered. She brought her hand to his face, allowing her thumb to caress his jaw. His lips move closer, so close she need only tip her head forward to touch them.

Margaret took in a deep breath before lifting her head as he bent slightly to meet her. His lips lightly, reverently descend upon hers, tentative at first, but then again and again in a manner that was both gentle and firm. John was lost in a feeling that he had only imagined. He could not believe that only this morning he had truly thought that he may never see her again. Moving his fingers to her neck, he relished the feel of her bare skin beneath his touch.

Margaret had never known such joy and warmth, nor been inspired with such feelings as those that were coursing through her body at present. John's bottom lip separated Margaret's causing her to emit a slight gasp. She allowed herself to become lost in John's pleasurable and highly presumptuous attentions. Her willingness intensified both John's passion and the intensity of their caress. John reluctantly tore his mouth from hers and stared at her in utter wonderment, both breathless. She had never been so beautiful.

He needed to know that she understood what this, what a life with him would mean. John knew that he could live without Margaret no sooner than he could live without air, but he would rather die without her than live knowing that she was unhappy.

"Margaret, you realize that I am asking you to cast your lots with mine. It is not fair to you, I know, but I promise that with you by my side, I can pull out of this, we can pull out of this. We will find somewhere to live, and I have no doubt that you would make it into a wonderful home." He steadied his footing and looked at her squarely as if preparing himself for the worst. "Are you sure?"

"Am I sure?" She gently stroked his hair. "I love you. I would love you the same whether you were rich or poor." Margaret brushed her lips against his before continuing. "But John," Margaret smiled, "we will not have to leave this house."

His features fell. "No, Margaret, we will, I cannot afford to keep the lease. That is a certainty." Disappointment struck. John was beginning to see that she did not understand the gravity of the situation. What was he thinking, asking her to be a poor man's wife?

"There is no need for a lease." Margaret's smile widened. "I own Marlborough Mills." John pulled from her, placing his hands on her shoulders and stared in confusion.

"I'm sorry?"

"That is what I have been trying to tell you, though I suppose that your proposal makes mine rather obsolete." Margaret said laughing. John looked at her as though she had just begun speaking in tongues.

"Margaret, I am not following you at all." She took his hand and led him back to the settee. Excitement was not a strong enough word to express what Margaret felt about sharing Mr. Bell's gift with John.

"Mr. Bell came to me last week. He has decided to leave the majority of his money and properties to me." Margaret said with a gleam in her eyes. She waited for John to speak, but he was not forthcoming. "I tried to tell you earlier, but you would not hear it."

"He has-" John just stared at her for a moment. "You mean that Marlborough Mills is-" He could not complete a thought, much less a sentence.

"Marlborough Mills is mine, soon to be yours now."

"Mr. Bell gave it to you?" John's could not make sense of it. "Why?"

"He is very ill I am afraid. He has no children and I am his God Daughter." She looked up at him. "I think that this business proposition may very well have been his way of pushing us together."

"What was the business proposition?" John asked.

"I have a substantial amount of money that I wished to invest in Marlborough Mills. I asked if we should have papers drawn up, and Mr. Bell suggested that I bring the information to you, and—let me think—he said that I should bring the information to you, and that you would help me come to the best solution." Margaret paused. "I for one think that we have arrived at the absolute best solution."

"You wished to invest in Marlborough Mills, even if we were not to marry?" John was still soaking in the information.

"Yes," Margaret teased, "You aren't changing your mind now, are you?"

"My mind has never changed. My heart has always been yours." John pulled her close to him, and Margaret rested her head upon his chest, his heart was racing. She picked up his left hand and laid it in her lap, lifting the sleeve slightly to expose his wrist, Margaret lightly rubbed her fingers along the tender skin. For the second time, John was amazed at the effects that one little finger on his wrist could cause. They sat with one another in contented silence, neither feeling the need to speak for some time.

"Mr. Thornton," Margaret began hesitantly, John was quite aware that his name had changed once more. "Might I ask a question of you?"

"Anything." John returned without a moment's thought. Margaret gave him an arch smile and opened her mouth as though to speak. She decided against teasing remark until John pressed her. "What is it Margaret, what were you going to say just now?"

"I was simply going to remind you that you have given me leave to ask you anything once before, upon which you avoided my query and our lovely conversation ended." Margaret knew that her point was not entirely fair, as his question may have revealed much more of himself than he felt that he could at the time.

"The evening in Oxford?" Margaret nodded. "Your question about the inquest?" She nodded once more. John inhaled deeply. "I will answer your question, both if you would like, but only under one condition." John tried to maintain an air of seriousness, but this evening simply would not have it.

"I believe that I must hear the condition before I agree to it," was her saucy reply. He laughed at her, thinking how interesting and different and wonderful his life would soon be.

"My condition is simply that you never again call me 'Mr. Thornton' in our private dealings. You used my name several times earlier, and I must admit that I was becoming quite accustomed to it."

"I agree to your terms," Margaret could not suppress her smile. "John."

"You may ask me anything that you wish." His answering grin transformed his face, and Margaret reflected that one of her most important goals in her new life with him would be to induce him to smile much more often.

Margaret allowed herself a deep breath and focused her eyes upon John's wrist which was still receiving attention from her delicate taper fingers. "I simply wished to ask—" She could not seem to voice the words that were to follow. "I was wondering—" Margaret did not know why this was so difficult.

John lifted her chin with his free hand and made her eyes meet his. "What can you not ask me?" Margaret's heart quivered at his use of her words from earlier this evening. His smile had turned serious, and the intensity of his stare made Margaret think that speaking was unnecessary, she was certain that he could read the words upon her heart.

"Why were you so good to me in Oxford? That is to say, after my behavior, or your thoughts of my behavior at Outwood Station last autumn, not to mention the abominable way in which I spoke to you at after the riot… What made you retain your esteem for me, when by all rights you should have despised me?" Margaret continued to hold his gaze. There was a silence that made Margaret almost regret the question.

"To be honest," he finally answered, "I cannot completely answer your question. After the riot I wanted nothing more than to forget what had happened, but in the same thought, I knew that I would not have acted differently if I had it to do over again. I continually placed myself in your path, I needed to be in your presence." Mr. Thornton sighed and allowed himself a moment of reflection before continuing.

"When I saw you at Outwood, I wanted to think the worst of you, I wanted to despise you, but it did not exactly happen in that manner." He smiled sardonically. "To answer your question from Oxford, when the police inspector made me aware of your falsehood, I did not know what to think. I did not know the circumstances or motivations, but I knew that I would sooner lose my standing in this community, my livelihood, my freedom, than have you go through the embarrassment of a trial. I knew from that moment that if I could do anything for you, I would, despite the consequences." Margaret blushed, she was astounded by the constancy of John's regard.

"Oh John." Shame filled her face. "And when I came to your office?" Margaret asked quietly.

"That is much easier." John said. "That was the first moment in our acquaintance that you needed something, anything from me—at least anything that you were willing to ask for. You came to me. You welcomed my nearness. I loved you Margaret. I loved you despite harsh words and mysterious strangers. I loved you, and have never stopped loving you." He lifted her hand and placed his lips on the inside of her wrist before carefully returning it to its previous employment upon his. "That is the answer to it all. I continued to love you because I could not stop. I helped you because I loved you."

"It would seem that Mr. Bell knew what was good for us after all." Margaret's hand slid up from John's wrist until her fingers mingled between his.

"He spoke to me about trying you in Oxford. It was too soon, I think. I would have liked nothing more, I assure you." John thought for a moment before looking up at her. "It was too soon, was it not?"

"I am afraid so. With my father—I simply could not read my heart. It was not until I found myself miserable in London that I discovered my true feelings. Oh, how I regretted leaving. I thought that I had made the biggest mistake of my life, I suppose that I did." Margaret smiled at John with a tinge of embarrassment.

"You came back. That is all that matters. You will be mine soon, and I yours." John did not see a reason to share the despair in which he lived the past weeks, not now. His mind and heart were much more inclined to think toward the future.

"I did." Margaret leaned against his chest. "When Mr. Bell told me that you could lose the mill, I just—I cannot explain how I felt. The thought of your suffering was unbearable." Margaret was enjoying their intimacy, and was aware that it could end at any moment.

John thought of what would cause him to truly suffer. "Margaret, are you still planning to leave tomorrow?" John asked into her hair, reveling in their quiet communion.

"I don't think that staying in Milton would please Aunt Shaw or Edith or Henry." She allowed her eyes to meet his. He wanted so badly to say 'but it would please me.' John realized that he was soon to be Margaret's husband and that they had overcome the point of hiding their emotions and feelings. These past months were wrought with misunderstandings and hushed feelings, and that time had gone. He brought his eyes to her fingers, watching them hypnotically move over his skin.

"But it would please me." John's voice was a near whisper. "You have no idea how much it would please me."

"Oh John, I never should have left you before." He allowed his gaze to meet hers once more. "I was scared of what I was feeling and doing what I thought to be right by my family." Thinking over her words, Margaret realized that she had put some misguided duty before her own happiness.

"And now?" John asked, his voice was silk, Margaret was lost in it. "What do you want, Margaret." They were both aware that he had asked this very question on a previous occasion, only now Margaret had an answer.

"I want this. I never wish to leave your side again." Margaret's breath caught under the intensity of his stare.

"Then you will stay?" He needed an absolute confirmation.

"I will stay."

With that, John had everything that he had ever wanted sitting before him, staying with him, offering herself, her heart to him. Without reservation, he pulled her into him and joyfully crushed his lips to hers. Margaret's hands explored his angular face, sank into his dark locks. With one of his hands he caressed the back of her neck while the other snaked its way about her waist and pulled her in as close as he could in their seated position. He surrounded her. He was her everything. Nothing else mattered. With her eyes closed, the lines that had so clearly distinguished where Margaret ended and John began seemed to blur and dissolve until there was nothing left but oneness.

After the kiss, Margaret brought her head to his chest once more. She was breathless.

"Margaret, you were not hoping for a long engagement, were you?" John was trying desperately to remember how long one must wait to marry after procuring a license.

"I only wish for a simple wedding, one that does not require much time to plan, certainly." Margaret felt a strange nervous sensation within herself, speaking with John, with her John, about their wedding. "When would you wish to get married?"

"Tomorrow afternoon at the latest." Margaret pulled from him and laughed, not so much at his words as to the expression of seriousness that was plastered upon his face.

"I am afraid that it may be a bit longer than that." Margaret took his hand in hers. "We mustn't wait too long, though. I am certain that it would be easier to handle the investment in the mill if it were in your name."

"Margaret, I assure you that my wish to make haste toward our wedding has nothing to do with finance, investments or Marlborough Mills." The look in his eyes reflected only a fraction of the love in his heart. "I have a feeling that any moment now I will wake up from the most wonderful dream that I have ever had. I will keep my mill, and the woman that I love, that I have loved, has agreed to be my wife."

"Wife?" Margaret and John turned to the door which they had not heard open and saw both Henry and Mrs. Thornton enter the room. Henry repeated himself once more "Wife? Margaret?" He looked toward her as though in disbelief.

Margaret stood and waited for John to do the same. John placed his hand on the small of her back and spoke. "Mr. Lennox, Mother, Margaret has agreed to be my wife." Margaret could sense Henry's disapproval, but could not bring herself to keep the smile from gracing her face.

"I see." Henry said. "I suppose that congratulations are in order." The lover in Henry that wanted to implore Margaret not to make any hasty decisions, to return to London, and in no uncertain terms to not marry John Thornton. The gentleman in Henry told him that this was the turning point, that he had given it his best and that it was time for him to bow out gracefully. The gentleman prevailed.

Henry turned to Margaret. "Well, Margaret, it is getting late. I think that I am going to be on my way to the hotel. Are you ready to, or, well, you must have things to discuss with your—" The break in Henry's voice was nearly imperceptible, but he could not continue. He turned his attentions to Mr. Thornton. "I am sure that I can trust you to see Margaret safely back?"

"Of course." John answered.

"Then I will be on my way." Margaret left John's side, not knowing what to do or say that could possibly improve this situation, spare their friendship.

"Henry," She began.

"Goodbye, Margaret." With that, He was out of the door. The kindest thing that Margaret could do for Henry was to let him leave. Margaret stared at the closed door for several moments before she turned back to John and his mother. She could not help the momentary dread that coursed through her being. She realized that it was not heartache, far from it actually. Margaret's pain stemmed from her empathy mixed with a tinge of guilt at her current happiness.

John and Mrs. Thornton took note of Margaret's countenance and both were fairly certain that they could surmise the relationship that existed between Henry and the young lady before them. Offering a smile, Margaret walked back to John, who suggested that they return to the sitting room.

"I think that I will allow the two of you some time together." She offered a questioning look toward her son. "Do not keep Miss Hale out too late. I should be awake when you come in." She began to leave the room but turned back once she reached the doorway. "I am happy for you," she began to turn, completing her exit, but added quietly, "for both of you." With that, John and Margaret were once more alone.

On the short walk to the hotel, Margaret and John spoke of everything and nothing, marveling at how well they enjoyed each other's company. As John bid his fiancé a good night, he did so without regret, but rather in perfect happiness. Knowing that soon they would never be separated again made this temporary departure possible. He knew that people were not meant to feel such perfect happiness and wondered how he could possibly be the exception. He could not help but replay the events of their arduous relationship through his mind.

It had been eighteen months since this rare beauty had captured John's attention. A year ago he was refused. Only a mere month had passed since a tragic loss had brought the possibility of new hope. Yesterday he sat in despair. Today was perfection. John did not know what tomorrow would bring, but he knew that he would stand in its wake with Margaret at his side.

Everything was forgiven. Everything had changed. Everything was as it should be.

Thank you for sticking with me through the end.

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