Mr. Bell's last business (North and South fanfic).

I would like to say huge thank you to RussianDestruction, who did so much more than just beta this story for me. She saved you from much annoyance and English language from a horrible violation. She is just that awesome.

Mr. Bell's Last Business

By Ikuko

That morning found Mr. Bell in the austere office of Mr. Thornton, probably for the last time. Poor fellow! It was a miracle that he had been able to scrape up rent money for now. It was not likely that he would be able to do so next time. But next time it would not be Mr. Bell's concern. In fact, it looked like he wouldn't be concerned with anything at all at that point, unless the doctor had deceived him. However, Mr. Bell was genuinely sorry for the young man who was putting up such a magnificent, and apparently futile, fight for his life's work

Well, from now on it would all depend on whether or not the two silly young people could overcome their pride. He had seen how Thornton looked at his goddaughter, even if her own father was oblivious to it, and he had seen how his goddaughter looked back. He had seen how Thornton looked at his goddaughter, and he had seen how his goddaughter looked back, even if her own father was oblivious to it. He guessed that the reason Thornton was slacking on his lessons was that he had spoken to Margaret about his feelings, and that she had refused him. However, his last talk with her in Helstone had assured him that the young man was luckier than he knew. Somewhere along the way the girl had changed her opinion of him to the extent that she could not bear the thought of his poor opinion of her .

Mr. Bell smiled inwardly. Certainly, Margaret had asked him not to interfere, but then she had as good as told him to explain to Thornton her dealings with her brother. Hmmm. This might be amusing. As it stood now, he did not have all that much time left to enjoy himself, so he was not intending to pass on any chances.

'So, I must be at the end of sorting my business matters,' he said, passing the last papers to Thornton across the desk.

'When do you sail?' asked the younger man, beginning to scan the documents. Bell was watching him carefully, waiting to for his reaction when he saw the name of his new landlord.

'On Wednesday,' he said, not taking his eyes from Thornton's face. But the young man was still reading carefully. Mr. Bell shifted impatiently in his seat.

'I should be pleased to be warmed by the sun again. I spent much of my youth there.'

Ah. There. Thornton saw it. He almost covered his shock, but Bell saw it hit. Thornton's eyes stopped moving across the page, and fixed on one particular line, containing one particular and wholly unexpected name. Eventually, he raised his eyes to Bell's face questioningly.

'Yes, I signed all my property and fortune to my god daughter, Miss Hale.' Bell answered the question that was not voiced.

Thornton turned away from him, apparently not trusting himself to hide his feelings from the older man. Seeing his chance, Bell continued cheerfully:

'I have no family of my own and Hale was my closest friend… Under other circumstances, I would have, of course, divided my fortune between both of my god children, but as it is, young master Hale is in no position to accept it.'

Thornton sat straighter in his chair, looking intently into Mr. Bell's face.

'Young master Hale?'

'Yes, wonderful chap. Terrible thing, terrible thing. Though Miss Hale hopes to exonerate her brother from mutiny charges, I do not fancy his chances of ever coming back to England. Not with the death sentence hanging over his head. It was enough risk for him to come see his mother before she passed away… I hear it was quite a close call, too. They kept him secret, of course, but right when he was leaving he was apparently recognized on the train station and barely escaped with his life. My goddaughter was quite shocked to witness such violence, poor girl.'

He had said everything that needed to be said; now it was up to Thornton to put two and two together.

'I did not know Mr. Hale had a son…' he muttered. Mr. Bell waited patiently for Thornton to arrive to the inevitable conclusion. Thornton looked away for a moment, processing what he just heard, and a glimmer of an incredulous smile appeared on his face:

'It was her brother…'

Ha. Finally.

Thornton glanced at Bell again. Clever boy, thought Bell. But you have to be even cleverer than that. Now it appeared to him to be quite safe to push forward a little more.

'Ah. You didn't know. No matter, young Frederick is safely in Spain and not coming back any time soon. No harm done.'

Thornton was still absorbed in his thoughts and seemed somewhat uncomfortable.

'Miss Hale was seen that night at the station,' he said. 'There was an inquiry afterwards into the man's death. …She had to answer police questions…'

'Yes, yes, poor girl, so much distress at such a difficult time. And you are saying that you didn't know? Astonishing. Apparently, Hale kept his son's secret even from his closest friends. I am sure that the events were misconstrued most dreadfully.' Thornton now looked so aghast, that Bell was beginning to feel really sorry for him. All right, probably he could risk just one more push.

'Well, well,' he mused. 'I had wondered what Miss Hale meant… She had mentioned that the two of you had gravely misjudged each other, causing her great sorrow and regret on both occasions.'

'Misjudged… Sorrow? On both…' Apparently the words Bell pronounced were exploding somewhere in Thornton's brain, igniting possibilities never imagined before. With his unseeing eyes focused on something in front of him, as word after word reached its goal, until finally, he arrived at the key word:

'Regret?!'

Thornton's eyes returned to Bell's face with almost grim decisiveness. He deliberately dipped the pen in the inkpot and signed the last paper. Finished with that, he carefully replaced the lid on the inkpot, as if it was an all-important task. At that moment his rigid self-control seemed to crack and his growing agitation took over; he stood up restlessly, towering over Bell. The older man felt obliged to move away a little, but he didn't mind one bit. He continued in the same cheerful tone as if he saw nothing, noticed nothing.

'Oh, well, well. My business in Milton is nearly done. I wish I could invite you for a farewell dinner, Thornton, but you must excuse the old man. I am dining with the Latimers today, and tomorrow morning I will take the ten o'clock train to London.'

He extended his hand to Thornton with a brief shrewd glance, and added with some hesitation:

'Would you like to…'

'No.' Thornton wrung Bell's hand gratefully. 'There is one in twenty minutes. I think I can make it.'