A/N: And now for something a little different! I'm not going for perfect historical accuracy (I guestimated the prices, for example, the accent won't be perfect, lord knows the project is totally unrealistic) but try to get swept up in the charm anyway ;)

Takes place according to the movie, but Margaret never went to Milton to see Thornton: instead she had Henry write a business letter, and has since kept in contact via 'her agent' in Milton.

Also: the timeline is based around the 'Great Exhibition', which occurred in 1951. So, the Hales arrived in Milton the winter before that, I believe (1850), and Margaret Hale left there the winter afterwards (at the end of 1851). The story begins three years after Thornton and Margaret have last met.

Also 2: I promise to try and finish this story at least… It shouldn't be a very long one.

~*~

London, November 1854

Despite the encroaching darkness, Mary whistled a cheerful tune. Her payday-money jingled with every step. 14 shillings this week! She'd been working hard, flirting up the gents and flattering the dames, and the result was a very satisfactory weight in her little purse. Why, if she put 5 shil' aside this week, she and Tom would almost have enough to marry! Her heart beat a joyful rhythm, and perhaps it was this lightness of spirit that bade her hail the young man huddled against an empty doorway from a cautious distance.

"Oi you!" The youth raised his head. Underneath the dirt, she thought he must be around fifteen. "You go' a place fer tonight?"

The boy scowled. "What d'ya think? Tha' I be out 'ere for the fresh air?"

She hummed noncommittally. "You an orphanage boy, or a runaway?" This was said this with all the lofty superiority of her 19 years.

"Done up n' got outta the workhouse while I could."

"Well, I reckon if you ain't no thief an' no liar, you're in a spot o' luck: Bobby's just quit Miss Margret's, so there's a bed open for a lad like you."

"Miss Margret's?" Wariness, tinged with hope. Clearly this boy hadn't been on the streets for long. Why, by the time she'd started hoping that Miss Margaret's was real, she'd been living there for a week!

"Kind of a lodgings, see, fer people like you'n me ain't got no other place to go. You 'ave to pay Matron 6 shil a week, an get you an 'onest job, an help cleaning on Sundays, but if Matron likes you it's good food an a good bed every night, 'till you got a place fer yerself."

The boy started to look interested, and he hauled himself up from the step to join her. "Well, think I'm of a mind to join you then."

"Good, 'cause I weren't gonna wait fer you much longer, it's almost dinner. What's yer name, boy?"

"Me name's Jem."

"Mary."

They walked a few street-lengths in brisk silence. the streets had grown quite dark and cold, and Mary knew the dangers of this dirty, godforsaken part of town. she wasn't frightened, not with the small knife she'd learnt to carry at all times, but she wasn't stupid either.

"Mary?" She hummed. "Who's Miss Margret?"

"The d—n sweetest lady there ever were, an don't you ferget it!"