The Journey Home

Chapter 47 - A Last Good Night

John spent the evening alone,  a plate was brought to his study, of which he ate very little while he  allowed himself the luxury of leisurely thought. He had visited with his mother earlier in the evening and found that his conversation was  limited to answering direct questions only, as his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Margaret. As he sat in the winged leather chair and gazed into the fire, John's mind was overwhelmed with vignettes of his time with her; for up until this time, they were permitted only moments together alone. He thought of her glances in his direction and her warm smile that filled the longing in his heart with love.  The realization that he would spend the rest of his life with this  woman was more joyous than he could ever have imagined and he smiled in spite of himself. It had been little more than a day since he had seen her, but it felt like an eternity. She was not to be found on the mill grounds that day, as she was preoccupied with last minute wedding details. John had wandered to the school house knowing quite well that she would not be there. What he found was an eager group of students and their instructor, Tommy Boucher. They all stood abruptly, bowing and dipping quick curtseys when he entered the room. He smiled kindly upon the students, on Margaret's work. He saw traces of her about the classroom, her apron on the peg, her writing upon the page, but was most moved by the sight of her ink and pen upon the desk, knowing that it had recently been held between her dainty fingers, leaving an indelible dimple upon her thumb.
He may not see her more than once from one end of the day to the next, but her proximity within the stone and mortar walls  of the mill each day was a touchstone to what John had worked so hard for all the years of his life; to make a life for himself and the woman that he loved, to protect her and nurture her love, to have children, if God would allow and to provide for them. His father had failed his family, leaving mother and two children destitute. It was not until very recently, on the eve of his own marriage, that John realized the full impact of his father's actions. As a young boy, his mother encouraged his determination and hard work, and would not allow him to think about any future other than one where he would become master of his own destiny. He understood now that it was unthinkable to place that kind of burden on Margaret, as his father had done to Hannah Thornton. Did his father love him too little or too much to take his own life in the face of failure? John would never know, but as a result he would teach his children to be strong and self reliant, and he would set them upon a path to independence, but he would never allow a future where his children lived in poverty, or where Margaret would want for any of life's necessities.
Margaret! he thought to himself, oh, Margaret. To be left on her own for so long, without knowing how much he loved her. He must protect her all of her days and keep her from harm. He would do everything in his power to prove his love for her. Thoughts of her return to England and their emotional reunion caused tears to well in his eyes, but he was also reminded of her wretched family and the meddling in their lives. His jaw clenched tightly as he knotted his brows together. His anger with them had grown physical as he clenched his fist, feeling his nails dig into the flesh of his palms. Earlier in the evening, he received news from Higgins of the cousins' arrival at the Outward Station, with trunks enough to hold a months' worth of clothing. John leaned his head back on the smooth worn leather of the chair, thinking of Edith Lennox's smug look of disapproval of him, whenever she thought he was not looking. His stomach felt acidic as he slid into the rage of jealousy and contempt he felt for this family that kept Margaret away from him.
John stood suddenly and went to the sideboard for a glass of brandy. He poured and drank in one motion, retaining the decanter in the other hand to top off what he drank. He walked back to the seat that he recently occupied, holding the glass and decanter, seething over the time stolen from him. So much time wasted, he thought to himself. At his age, it was questionable whether he would see any child grow to adulthood. He punished himself for not having   pursued Margaret back when she first left. Of course, he would have waited until the Mill was back on its feet again and prospering. That would have taken some time, and then Mother's illness... He quickly realized that he had no one to blame but himself for allowing Margaret to get away.
Looking at his full hands, John went to the sideboard and replaced the decanter's stopper and placed it among the glassware, as the mantel clock chimed nine o'clock. He needed to see her, just for a moment, to sooth the aching in his heart. He closed his eyes and breathed in her name, imagining the calm of her own breathing, slowing his own deep and ragged gasps. His long strides took him from the study, in search of his great coat and hat.
*****
The room that previously held several trunks of clothing was now empty, save a small valise and the white gown hanging  in the wardrobe.  Margaret sat with her book of prayers, silently praying to her Lord for his blessing upon her marriage and new life with John, to keep  him safe and allow her the joy of spending a life time with him.  She prayed for the intercession of her dear mother and sister in law, that she may have the strength to be a good mother to Maria Louise, who wanted nothing more than to have the love of her own mother restored to her.   She closed her eyes tightly, and asked that He take from her these heavy thoughts that seemed to push down her feelings of joy for the coming nuptials.  The hour had grown late, but she found that she was not tired and wondered if sleep would come to her that night.  A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and wrapping her dressing gown tightly about her, she cautiously went to the door.
******

he waited for her in the dimly lit lobby of the hotel.  He detected the smell of tobacco burning in a sitting room off the lobby, but no other evidence of of the hotel's guests was present.  He noted the reluctant chamber maid came heavily down the grand stairway first; but was quickly followed by Margaret in a dark robe tied tightly at the waist.  Her dark curls were bound loosely in a ribbon and cascaded over one shoulder.  She moved quickly and lightly, barely making a discernible noise as she descended the stairs.  His heart leapt at the sight of her, of her  natural beauty intoxicating him into a dream; until he saw the look of anxiousness on her face.
"John, what is it? What has happened?" she said breathlessly as she ran to him.
"My dear, " he began.  He realized that his impulsivity was to blame.  That he would come to see her at this time of night would be the tittle tattle of Milton by day break. 
"I am sorry, Margaret.  I've been quite selfish.  I needed to see you.  I could not calm myself."  He said with a pang of guilt at the indiscretion of the situation.  Margaret took his arm and leaned in, seeking his physical support. 
"I feared something had happened." she whispered.  "The maid said it was urgent."  John gave a slight wince.  "I am sorry, but there is nothing wrong."  He watched the immediate anxiety on her face slip away, as relief and a slight smile came across her face.  "Come." she said as she gently lead him to seating, away from the direct eye of the desk clerk and suspicious maid.   As he silently walked with her, John felt Margaret's eyes upon him. He acknowledged her glance  with a slight squeeze of her hand that rested on his arm.  They moved slowly, not wanting to be separated from each others.  He turned her towards him so that they make speak in semi privacy.  "Are you alright, my dear?" He asked as he looked into her eyes.  He could see the strain of dealing with the wedding planning and managing her frivolous relations.  She smiled wearily at him.   "I am quite well, although I very much doubt whether I will sleep tonight, " she  said honestly as she blushed deeply.   John  lowered  his eyes, as he mentally succumbed to her possession of his heart, his life and his very soul.
"Margaret Hale, you have possessed me." he murmured as he took both her hands in his and raised them to his lips and kissed them.  "I cannot believe that you are to be my wife in only a few hours time.  I love you, my dearest." 
"As I love you." Margaret leaned in, and drew their entwined hands to her own lips, gently kissing his fingers.  John sighed deeply.  His breathing had calmed, the pain behind his eyes had subsided, as he released his rage. 
"I could not rest easily until I saw you, one last time, before we are wed." He confessed. Margaret smiled warmly, as she looked up into his eyes. "I missed you, too." She said earnestly, drawing her hand from his and lightly stroking his cheek. "But we cannot linger any longer, John.  You must go."
"Yes." He squeezed her other hand in his.
"Now, my love." Margaret took her hand from his cheek.
"Of course." he answered as he took a lock of her hair between his fingers.  "You are lovely, Margaret."
Realizing her state of dress and loose hair, Margaret exclaimed "oh!" and stepped back.  "Mr Thornton, I quite forgot myself... in the hurry to answer your call, I did not prepare myself..."
Now it was John's turn to smile.  "You are lovely."  he repeated.
Margaret clasped her hands together.  "Well, I suppose it is time to say good night. "
John bowed slightly to her,  took her hand in his once more and kissed it.
"For the last time, good night, Miss Hale."