A/N: This is my first-ever fanfic (at least the first one i've ever decided to post publicly), so be patient as I inevitably screw up formatting and all that stuff.

This is going to be book-based, but seeing as how I love the movie, I'm sure there will be cross-over from that, either in conversation or character traits. I will be a tad liberal with the timeline, because Elizabeth Gaskell had a tendency to write events as though they were happening really quickly from one day to the next (even though months would actually pass), so I'm just going to go with the assumption that John and Margaret were in company with each other more often than she actually wrote. But for the most part, I'll try to be faithful to events in the book. There will also be changes in point-of-view, but I'm going to hope it's not too confusing and jarring, and I'll try to be consistent. Within the timeline, this will start kind of around the chapters "What is a Strike?" and "Likes and Dislikes". But again, being liberal with the timeline, so don't try too hard to match my conversations with anything you might find in the book. (p.s. the play mentioned is not real.)

Knocking at the door, Mr. Thornton was all too aware of the noises coming from within the house. Occasionally Margaret would be the one to come to the door when Dixon was otherwise occupied, and he had learned quickly the difference between Margaret's light, quick step, and the deliberate tread of the faithful servant. That he was able to decipher these steps amid the surrounding noise of the neighborhood, he tried not to give too much thought to. He would not admit to a greater awareness of the environment that housed Miss Hale; he merely interpreted it as a slight uneasiness at being faced with the formidable Dixon, which he could not be blamed for.

This evening he was greeted by Dixon (though he had recognized her step before the door opened; he subsequently had to shake off a feeling of disappointment that was bewildering to him) and shown quickly into the drawing room. Normally he expected to be in company with the mother and daughter, as well, but on entering, he saw only Mr. Hale rising to greet him with his usual good humor.

"What is that you have there, John?" Mr. Hale inquired of the small book tucked into his elbow. "Something new for us to discuss, perhaps? You tire of Plato so soon?"

Mr. Thornton smiled at the light barb. "No, indeed. It is, in fact, not intended for you at all, I'm afraid. It is a play my sister has insisted would capture the attention of Miss Hale, and I am my sister's messenger."

"I see. Do you know anything of it?"
"Not at all, although I will admit that a recommendation of Fanny's does not inspire me with much confidence in its quality. I cannot guarantee that Miss Hale will enjoy it. But of course I will leave that to her to decide."

Margaret, hearing her name spoken as she descended the stairs, made her way into the drawing room to hear Mr. Thornton's doubt of her reception, but of what, she was too late to the conversation to know. "What must I decide, Mr. Thornton?"

Mr. Thornton turned quickly toward her, slightly startled. The sight of her did not do much to calm him from the surprise of her unexpected entry. No matter what a displeasing personality she possessed toward him, he could never deny her regal beauty. The mere simplicity of her brown dress accentuated her fine features as the fire danced across her cheeks. Her usual haughty demeanor was dampened by an open curiosity, and he found he liked the change too much for his own good.

"My sister has asked me to bring you this," he thrust the book toward her rather awkwardly. As she took it, he explained further. "She understands that it is a favorite in London currently and was sure you would enjoy it."

Margaret glanced at the title on the cover and found it hard to stifle a chuckle. Her smile did not escape his look, but he was afraid of appearing too interested and refused to inquire after her laugh. However, he was soon grateful for her father's open curiosity about the book.

"Oh, I cannot say whether it is currently a favorite in London, but it did enjoy quite the vogue a year and a half ago. Edith dragged me to it three times, Father. Do you remember me telling you of a ridiculous, sentimental affair of a play called Two Hearts as One? Well, here it is for our pleasure." She stepped toward her father, clearly amused and inviting all in the room to share in the humor.

"Oh, that does have a familiar sound. But Edith enjoyed it, assuredly?"

"Most assuredly. She was convinced that the author had seen into her heart as regards Captain Lennox and would not be dissuaded from such a notion."

Mr. Thornton now felt it safe to speak his turn. "I am sorry, Miss Hale, to be the bearer of the ridiculous to you. It was innocently done on my part. If you wish, I can take the script back to Fanny and inform her of your familiarity with the play."

"Oh, no, it was very kind of her to think of me, and I would enjoy a chance to look through it. I speak of the play as being ridiculous in general, but I do recall two or three speeches I liked very well. I would like to find them. Really, it was kind of Miss Thornton to send it on to me."

As she spoke, she sat in a nearby chair, plainly ready to enjoy herself. Mr. Thornton was impressed by the purity of heart she ascribed to Fanny's intentions. Yes, Margaret would lend a book to a near acquaintance to be kind, so for her to think that Fanny had different motives was unlikely. He, however, knowing his sister, attributed something else – a desire to appear superior and cultivated to a girl who appeared haughty and unimpressed by her society. Clearly Margaret's previous familiarity with the play undermined Fanny's appearance of superior connections, but her opinion of it entirely destroyed Fanny's hope to show a superiority of mind and taste.

As he pondered the difference between the two young women, he took care not to choose a seat too near Miss Hale. Not only would she find it uncouth, but he was afraid that sitting too near to her would distract him, and he had no desire to pay her more attention than was needful. Her manner toward him may have marginally improved over time as he visited the family, but he was mortified to think that he could appear to favor her company or court her good opinion. As it was, he doubted she could entertain any regard for him, so he must pay her no heed, no matter the graceful incline of her head or the sparkle the firelight captured in her eye as she opened the book.

He wrenched his gaze to Mr. Hale, ready to begin a discussion, but Mr. Hale seemed intent on speaking to his daughter. He must maintain politeness, so he eagerly looked back at her as Mr. Hale inquired of his wife's whereabouts. Strange that Mr. Thornton had not registered the absence of the mother since Margaret's entrance.

"She was feeling rather low tonight, Father; some headache, I imagine," Margaret responded a trifle stiffly. "I feared she would only be wearied by company, so I encouraged her to remain abed."

"Dixon will see to her comfort, I have no doubt," Mr. Hale replied with a smile that seemed to Mr. Thornton incongruous with his daughter's sudden gravity.

"Yes, though I should also return to check on her soon."

She dropped her head as Mr. Hale absently said to himself, "Good, good," and Mr. Thornton quickly recalled when he had brought her Dr. Donaldson's address. From her own attendance on her mother and his knowledge of the case from the good doctor, he could see that Mrs. Hale was far from well. However, it was also clear that Margaret concealed the severity of the case from her father. Why she would do such a thing was incomprehensible to him, but no doubt she knew her father and what was best for her family. He did not like that she took the burden on herself alone, however.

He was roused from these thoughts by Mr. Hale's saying, "In the meantime, what say you to some refreshment, eh, John?"

"Yes, that would be . . ." He stumbled over the right word to say, no doubt affected by the warmth of the fire. Nice? Agreeable? Lovely? "Well," he ended lamely. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, hating his tongue, sure that she was laughing at him. Why must he prove to her his ignorance and brutishness?

Nothing was said, however, to his blundering response, and Margaret set aside the play and left the room to retrieve the tea tray.

Her absence made it easier for him to return to his intended topic, and by the time she returned, he and Mr. Hale were engaged in talk over the Iliad and pagan gods. As she poured out their tea, he wondered that she rarely took part in the discussions they had. He assumed she was familiar with such works as he was beginning to reacquaint himself with; why should she not join in rather than retreat to her needlework? But he would not ask her; oh, no. That would appear as though he were interested in her, her thoughts and opinions. He must not give an impression of preference to her, because of course such an appearance would be false.

She returned to the play after handing them their tea (he had trained himself to not be fascinated by the movement of her bracelet or jealous of the smile she gave her father . . . no, not jealous), and said nothing. He stole glances at her every time he picked up his cup, but he was careful not to do so too often. He did not want to arouse the suspicion of the father. He wondered if she enjoyed the play; her look of concentration did not give anything away.

They were all startled by a tap at the door below. As Mr. Hale wondered who could be calling, Margaret again rose so as to answer the summons. He was relieved to see Dixon bustle past, though, before Margaret could leave the room. They were all silent as they heard the door open and a low murmur of voices. Dixon's plodding steps were again heard on the stairs and she appeared in the doorway.

"Excuse me, Master, but the Smithers boy is at the door. He says it's an urgent family matter and he wanted you to come."

Mr. Hale's mouth formed an "oh" that gave Mr. Thornton the impression that the elderly gentleman was already aware of the family matter, but was merely surprised at such timing. "Yes, of course, I will come."

Mr. Thornton regretfully began to stand, as well, saying, "If you are to leave, perhaps I should –"

"Oh, no, John," Mr. Hale cut him off. "I know of what young Edward is troubled by and they live only a few doors down. I will not be gone long, I am sure. I will be back with plenty of time for us to discourse on Achilles. Please stay. Margaret, I'm sure you will see to Mr. Thornton's comfort."

"Of course, Father." If she was at all disconcerted by her father's request, she did not show it. Her composure remaining, she motioned for him to retake his seat as Mr. Hale disappeared down the stairs.

Any thoughts that he might be left alone with her were soon dispelled, as Dixon clearly had no intention of leaving her post at the door. With her formidable set of the mouth and guard-like stance, Mr. Thornton felt himself repressed. Circumstance dictated they should converse, but he did not feel comfortable beginning to speak in front of the stern servant whose disapproval emanated through the room. Fortunately, Margaret seemed mistress enough of herself and was accustomed to Dixon's presence.

"Are you enjoying Homer, Mr. Thornton? Did you not begin your lessons with his works? I rather thought that you had moved on to other study." Her eyes strayed to Dixon, clearly suppressing a smile. She could see it! She knew he was afraid of that imposing woman and was enjoying his discomfort! With this realization, he resolved to stop squirming and replied with as easy a tone as he could muster, "Yes, very much. It has been some time since I have studied it, and to do so once more gives me pleasure. It is true we began with Homer, but I wanted to discuss a few more thoughts this evening."

"So you were already familiar with the Iliad?"

"More so than the Odyssey. My former teacher preferred it and began with it. We were still studying Homer when my –" He stopped abruptly. He did not like to mention his father or his previous hardships, especially among those who had already heard his history. She was gracious enough to understand his sudden silence and did not press him to continue in the same vein.

"I confess I much prefer the Classic poetry and stories than I do philosophy, although I am sure you can deduce my father's preference, having seen his enthusiasm for Plato in your lessons."

"We are still studying philosophy together, but have moved on to Aristotle, although he will insist on returning to The Republic every so often. This evening being a mere visit, I may choose a different topic. I do enjoy the study, but there is a limit even to how much Plato I can absorb."

She granted him a small smile at this remark. "Does all your conversation with my father revolve around dead languages and people?"

He was surprised at such a question. But perhaps it was not surprising if she did not listen closely to their conversation. If she was not asked to participate, she most likely felt little need to pay much attention to the discussions held in this very room. Perhaps he should have been drawing her out, after all.

"No, indeed, Miss Hale. I will confess that it makes up a large part of what we speak of, but Mr. Hale and I also talk about current events. No doubt you knew of the Great Exhibition in London."

"Yes, indeed. I was there, in fact. I was living in London with my aunt at the time." Her interest seemed piqued at the mention of the Exhibition.

"I find little motivation to leave Milton, but were something like that to happen again, I might be persuaded for just such an event. To see in person what goods, what artifacts, what anything really, is part of the world that surrounds us, that is –" The sound of a bell interrupted him. They turned to the sound and saw Dixon look toward the stairs, herself now uneasy. Had he forgotten so quickly that she had been standing there?

"That will be the mistress calling, Miss," Dixon turned to Margaret. "I should go and see to her." She looked askance now at Mr. Thornton, who understood her unease. To leave her mistress unattended or to leave the young miss alone with the great brute of a northern tradesman? The gallant gesture would be for him to now take his leave, he knew, but here was opportunity to be alone with Margaret, something that had not occurred since first meeting her. But why should he wish to be alone with her unchaperoned? He forced that question out of his mind, only knowing that he was eager for Dixon to settle her internal conflict by answering the summons.

Margaret also knew of Dixon's uneasiness, but she wanted to be sure her mother was looked after, and she was not afraid of being alone with Mr. Thornton. She would not do him the discourtesy of asking him to leave when her father, who would certainly return soon, so looked forward to his coming. And she was herself now curious where his thoughts were taking his conversation; she found she wanted to find out something more of this stern man.

"Yes, of course, Dixon. Please do. And if it's me she requires, please tell me." Dixon still hesitated as the bell rang a second time. "I'm sure my father will return shortly," she spoke quieter, hoping to assure Dixon she was in no danger. As Dixon threw another look his way, Mr. Thornton attempted to keep his face impassive, not wanting to betray his pleasure at her departure. That parting silence of hers was an effective warning, though against what he was unsure.