Second Chance (a North and South tale)

Chapter 1: Roses have Thorns

John

I was out of the door as quickly as I could manage. The unusual cold September morning reached my face and made my nose turn red. My fingertips froze as I brusquely walked away from the place where my despair began. Oh god, I love her, I love her even more, now that I know she would not have me. What did she mean when she said that I only asked her to rescue her reputation?

Now the true meaning of her words dawned me. She didn't believe me when I said that I loved her. She didn't believe in the truth of my feelings for her. To her, I had acted just like propriety would have expected. "You could hardly do otherwise" I recalled my mother's words. Damn society and its rules. I truly do love her, the moment on the day of the riot when I thought I could lose her helped me to admit it. She is my air that I breathe, the reason I live.

But now she hates me. And why wouldn't she? Wasn't fighting about the differences of our origin and past all we did when we were together? Wasn't scolding her for her kind behaviour towards the working class, although that was exactly the muster of behaviour that I treasured in her own father, all I ever did to her? I recalled the dinner party and started to curse under my breath.

How could I have reacted like that and made her ridiculous in front of Milton's higher society; only now I realized the complete extent of my stupidity. I hated myself for it. I knew now that I should have waited, waited until I was certain that she would accept me. But no, I couldn't wait, I hadn't had the patience to wait. Blindfolded by my mother's statement that Margaret's actions on the day of the riot couldn't suggest otherwise than that she loved me, I ran to ask her, to reveal my deepest emotions for her, only to be beaten down on the ground. The thought that if I hadn't proposed just yet, she might have changed her opinion of me, tortured me. Now all hope was gone.

"If you would have been reasonable and if you would have talked to them..." her words rang in my ear, making me curse under my breath. How could I have been so self-confident to believe she saved me out of something more than guilt and her pity towards the workers? All she did from the moment she arrived in Milton was caring for the welfare of the poor in the city. How could I have ever suggested otherwise? She was the daughter of a southern clergyman, that's exactly how you would expect her to act.

Only now, a few streets away from Crampton, I noticed that I forgot my gloves because my fingers started feeling numb. For a second I felt like going back but quickly shook off the thought. I should leave her be, at least for today. If we both get the chance to cool off we might be able to act like civilised people around each other. Presumably, she thought me to be the unfeeling businessman that everyone, even including my mother, saw me as and also expected me to be. But I've made up my mind she shall see who I really am behind all the pretention, behind the mask I wore all the time.

What if she will avoid me? Well, it seemed that my master plan had no plan B. What if she will tell Richard about our talk? I hope she won't. I couldn't manage to lose the love of my life and my best friend, who was like a father to me, all in one day. Surely I couldn't be her father's friend anymore. A loving father, as I portraited my friend, wouldn't allow me to enter the house anymore because it would make his daughter feel uncomfortable in my presence. For the first time in almost ten years, I felt my eyes glaze over. For my luck, I found that I reached the graveyard already, which seemed to be deserted. No one could see me now and notice my emotional state of turmoil.

After some time I finally managed to calm down, only to find my eyes gliding over to my father's gravestone. The tears vanished and made room for the anger I felt rising in me now. "If only you would have been reasonable and stopped risking your livelihood for your families sake. If only you wouldn't have been so cowardly, but have taken the responsibility for your mistakes." I shouted at the stone in front of me, my father's name carved deeply into it for all eternity. I looked up hesitantly and found myself alone. Nobody seemed to have noticed my little outburst of anger.

How ridiculous of me, standing here and trying to blame my father for the situation I got into. After all, he was partly to blame. But he would never know how much damage he had caused because of his selfishness. Even if I kept shouting at him for the rest of the day, he'll never know. My voice cracked as I continued to speak in a quiet but bitter tone: "Then you could have raised a gentleman out of me so I would be worth the flower I desire. In fact, I wouldn't stand here alone if you had done it."

Then without a second look, I turned and left the cursed place for my mill. I needed distraction immediately, or it would eat me away like rust. And the work that lay ahead to get the mill running again after the damage of the strike wouldn't let my mind travel back to today's events. Hopefully, it wouldn't. Or my walls would finally break. I decided not to tell mother, as I couldn't bear to hear her scolding words for Margaret right now. For the second time today I approached my mill and entered into the silence of my office.

"Time will tell what to do." I told myself "Time will tell. "

Picture: Richard Armitage as John Thornton