Apologies for the long, long delay. I moved and then had to unpack and then life happened.

Enjoy!

It had worked. Here he was, standing in a jumped up greenhouse—a wonder for size and imaginative reapplication of technology, but John had seen greater wonders in cotton mills—with Margaret at his side. Her hands were secure at the crook of his elbow as he "gladly" made acquaintance with a great many rich Londoners. Their simple thinking that cotton of all sorts was profitable without effort grated on him, as well as their supposition that he was some sort of saint for not filling his mill with Irish hands. It was the presence of his lovely wife, who came to his and his workers' defense at equal turns in conversation, that kept a civil tongue in his head.

"Mr. Bell!"

"Miss Hale—Well, I must say, Mrs. John Thornton. A hearty congratulations, to both of you. Why you're positively blooming. Your father wrote to me that he'd not see you with a better man if he lived to be a hundred, and I do think him correct—and you, my good man, it has been too long since I've clapped eyes on you."

With one of his first sincere smiles of the day at a person other than Margaret, John shook hands with his landlord. The older man was the only reason Margaret was here on his arm today, he was quite sure. He had put John in touch with Mr. Hale and that had put Margaret in touch with him.

"I hear that you're turning into a celebrity here or am I mistaken?"

"John is very popular. He's been much praised for being so level-headed, though the way the Londoners phrase their accolades has put him off a bit." Listening to her translate between his Northern attitudes and the Southern sensibilities, John couldn't help but feel that Margaret would have been stifled by living the rest of her days in London, married to one of these dull Londoners. They were lifeless, the lot of them, and their words were airy and insubstantial—or sometimes they were vile, filled with subtexts of contempt or pity. The honesty of Margaret's thoughts and feelings would have landed her with terrible men such as John had never—

"Margaret, is that you?"

He turned with her, his hand raising to cover hers. Whoever this man was, John did not like him on such easy terms so as to omit Miss from his wife's former social address. Now she was Mrs. Thornton, and that was that.

"Good God, you're as pale as a ghost are they even feeding you in that God-forsak—Oh. Excuse me, I don't believe we've met." The man was tall, with the face of a horse, and his clothes were of the finest linen money could buy. Though, John couldn't help the smirk which flitted across his face, his sideburns were just slightly uneven. Carelessness of a man with no women in his life to try to impress and no real business hinging in personal appearance. A useless Londoner, then, who knew Margaret and was derisive of the North. There couldn't be a better application for receiving John's disdain.

"Yes, we are quite well fed at home in Milton—I've just had a touch of flu the last few days, you must excuse my paleness." She leaned on his arm just slightly, holding his elbow a little tighter as she did, and he smiled at her subtle admission. Two weeks ago Margaret had told him, quietly in a room away from his mother and his work, that he would be a father before the year was out. "John, this is Henry Lennox. He is a lawyer, and my cousin Edith's brother-in-law. H—Mr. Lennox, this is my husband John Thornton. You of course know my father's friend Mr. Bell."

Lennox spared a long look at them, taking in their linked arms, John's hand over Margaret's, and a pained smile reached his eyes.

"A pleasure, I'm sure." John nodded once, with no hint of effort towards an actual bow of his head. This man had presumed things about Margaret in the past which he had no business presuming. She'd told John, shortly after accepting his offer, of how awkward she felt to inspire feelings of love in another person. I'm not so beautiful as my cousin, nor am I so vividly alive as your sister. I wonder less about your affection, though, than I did with Henry. He'd asked who 'Henry' was, wanting to put the man out of her mind somehow, let her speak her piece about him and have done with it. He decided on me because I mentioned marriage at Edith's wedding, and decided that I was too naïve to live a life without him guiding me.

"Mr. Lennox, I believe your party is missing you…" Mr. Bell was a master at conducting conversations and those he wanted privy to them, and soon had Lennox on his way—none the wiser to the fact that Margaret had as good as told him she was with child. Flu indeed. Only when the man was out of sight did Bell continue at any length.

"Now, I know that I absented myself rather unfairly from your wedding celebration several months ago and at present I can do little to remedy that other than telling you that in three months you'll be glad that I am especially attached to my only god-daughter."

"Three months you say? Whatever could—"

"Matters of business, Mrs. Thornton, I'm sure that—"

"My wife is as educated about the state of my finances and my business as I am. I'll thank you not to patronize her even if you do believe your words to be above her comprehension." John put no venom or spite in his tone, simply the weariness he felt at having to deal with yet another man who turned out to be of smaller mind than he'd originally estimated. This horrible place—where it was humid and thought to be pleasant of all things—with such horrible notions of women's abilities had finally broken his iron resolve to stay and gather as much capital as he could.

Bell was quick to recover, a great proficient at the art.

"I am participating—and don't you glare at me, John, I know your heart's opinion on the matter—in a bit of a speculation. I'll benefit greatly from it should the venture come to anything, but with no wife nor heirs I have the choice to keep it in a bank where it shall do no good to me or any other—or I could sign the bulk of it over to Margaret. A belated wedding gift. If not, then I myself won't have lost all that much fortune. John—if you've ever considered gambling since….well, I implore you with all my heart not to partake in this yourself. Of all that's risky, this makes the rest seem steady and advisable."

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