Margaret sat down at her dressing table with a sigh. Although the days of harsh winter were past, it was still some time before spring would come in its fullness. The days were lengthening, but the night still fell early. In the dim light of evening, the fire spit and crackled, and the candle on the table flickered and waved, throwing her shadow into sharp relief on the walls. The noise and bustle of the day was gone, and she sat in peaceful solitude and reflection as she began to take the pins from her hair.

The time had once been that Dixon would help her out of her gown and undo her hair, but those days were no more. Margaret did not care for the help at night, however much she required aid in the morning. But Dixon would not help her then, either. That duty would fall to Martha, who now acted as Margaret's maid. What a strange feeling it was, to now have someone in her employ whose only task was to look after her! She felt rather like her mother, or even Edith, but not herself. But Mrs. Thornton had insisted on just such a luxury, for it would not do for John's wife to live as though she had nothing.

She still laughed at the memory of her father's shock of two months ago, when she and John had entered his study and asked for his blessing. Her mother had been right when she said that Mr. Hale still perceived Margaret as a little girl, for he had not had any suspicion of what kept them ensconced alone for so long in the drawing room. But he had rallied quickly, pleased and delighted at the prospect of having John for a son-in-law. Indeed, the thought had done much to strengthen his feeble health and weak spirits, and his moderate recovery from his wife's passing was that much greater, with such a joyful event on the horizon.

He had been surprised again when both Margaret and John pressed for a short engagement. Could it really be proper to be wed so soon after her mother had been buried? They both gave evidence of their long-standing affection and argued their case well, but what finally convinced him to relent was Margaret's relating her mother's counsel and blessing. Mr. Hale was not inclined to go against his beloved wife's wishes, so that battle was easily won.

Mrs. Thornton was more difficult and formidable a foe to Margaret's mind, so it was Margaret now who was surprised when John informed her of his mother's assent to a speedy wedding. What confused her most was his asking permission to tell Mrs. Thornton about Frederick, for she could not see what that had to do with their hopes. But as Mrs. Thornton would be family, Margaret had no objections to John's request, and he returned the next day to say that Mrs. Thornton heartily approved. Margaret could not stop from raising her eyebrows at him skeptically, and he was forced to admit that perhaps "heartily" was a misleading description. It was not until later that Margaret would learn Mrs. Thornton's assent was so easily obtained because of that worthy lady's guilt over calling her a "tart".

So it was that a month later, they were married. The affair was not so simple as Margaret had once dreamed. Mrs. Thornton had carried the day in some respects, for Mr. Thornton was one of the foremost men of Milton, and some ceremony must be stood upon for the occasion. But he did his best to temper her demands, and though Margaret was not able to walk to the church through the shade of trees as she once imagined, the carriage ride through a light snowfall had been enough, as it took her to him. She had to withstand a wedding breakfast, but it was a small and private affair, and he was wise enough to do away with many of the formalities the people of Milton had expected. He was also quick to usher out their few guests almost immediately after the meal was over so she would not be suffocated by the congratulations of strangers. The rest of the day had been their own, which was all they required.

The last pin removed, her thick hair fell past her shoulders in a dark cascade. She breathed in relief as she massaged her scalp, letting the weariness of the day pass by.

If it was possible, she walked even more now that she was married. She and John had returned to daily life almost immediately after the wedding, and settled quickly into new habits and routines. Margaret's habits now included a daily excursion to Crampton to visit her father, who refused to be moved from his wife's final home. Dixon, surprisingly, was just as staunch in remaining. Perhaps she had never forgiven Mr. Hale completely for bringing her beloved mistress so low, but she was fiercely loyal to Mrs. Hale's memory, and vowed to look after the poor widower as long as she was required. Alas, the surge in Mr. Hale's energy was not to last, and both Dixon and Margaret sadly suspected that Dixon would remove to Marlborough Mills before many more months would pass.

Margaret stood from the table to retrieve her dressing gown from the bed, wrapping it securely around her before returning to the chair.

Her visit to her father this morning was not long, as Mr. Hale expected pupils, and she made the most of her free time to detour through the familiar park she had frequented so often before. The path meandered beyond the town limits and as she walked, the chilly fog of the morning was dissipating, leaving a hint of a golden glow that promised of spring. She made a note to herself to bring John here once the weather turned warm so he could find some pleasure in the sight. She hoped he could be persuaded to leave his perch from the office she passed every day.

She knew he watched for her. Before she left each morning, she would visit him to say farewell, but she only rarely stopped in once she came back. She had noticed, however, that before a week passed after their wedding, his desk had been turned so he faced the window, looking for her return each day. And so she would stop in the yard, waiting patiently until he glanced up, heedless of the workers who walked by her. And he would look up and see her, and give her that soft smile that was only hers. It was nearly as good as a kiss. But not quite. At least it was enough until they would see each other again.

What she did not notice was how many of the workers waited and watched for this ritual. While she saw only him, she did not see the knowing smiles they hid into their hands as they wondered and watched the master and his bride. The work was as hard as ever, and he was just as exacting a master as before, but there was no question of the change in him, in the kinder manner he spoke to them or the more patient way he explained his demands and expectations. The joke was common among them that it was a pity he had not married long before. But then, they supposed, he would not have married Miss Margaret if he had done so. And if anyone did heartily approve the match, it was the workers.

None more so than Nicholas Higgins. He was smugly gratified to learn that his suspicions regarding John and Margaret were correct, and he did not hesitate to say so when she told him of their engagement.

"Now there," he said significantly to her shy recitation, "there's no need to be miss-ish. I've had a thought or two about you and Thornton since you first asked me to speak direct to him. I could only figure that for a woman to speak for a man such as Thornton, she must be blind or mad in love. There was no accounting for it otherwise."

His merry response to her news made her smile and quip, "And so he still plays the overbearing master to you, Nicholas? You have not worked for him long, but is he as bad as you thought?"

He had the sense to look a little abashed. "Well, now, Miss, I could never say against a man as took your heart. But I'll give you this much, he is not such a brute as I first made him out."

She laughed. "Take care, Nicholas. It will not be too long before you think rather well of him, and then what will the union say?"

The association between her husband and Nicholas had only improved since her marriage, until the men had formed what could almost be called a friendship, as much friendship as any master could have with a zealous union man. From the accounts of both men, she understood that their dealings with each other were first borne out of astonished curiosity, and she laughed when separately told by both of how much the other man was a puzzle.

"That Higgins is a strange kind of chap," John had said. "But I would dearly enjoy setting him on the masters who persist in thinking their hands have nothing but fluff for brains. He'd give them what-for, and they would be left in a muddle for days trying to recover."

They had clearly found some common ground, for neither pretended to appear as something they were not, and they both admired this quality in each other, however much such a quality lent itself to their frequent arguments. But much to Margaret's joy and relief, they had recognized enough in each other to see more than just master and worker, and this drew them back together not long after tempers had cooled.

Nicholas had drawn her aside in the early days of her marriage, saying, "I must beg your pardon, Miss, for thinking you were mad or blind to be marrying master. It took some doing, but I know you were not looking to marry the master, but Thornton himself."

She raised her eyebrows in a satisfied smirk. "What is this, Nicholas? Not thinking so badly about a master?"

He shuffled his feet in gruff embarrassment. "Don't you go around rubbing I-told-you-so's in my face, Miss; I am low enough for all that. To tell the truth, he still fairly bamboozles me. He's two chaps. One chap I knew of old was master all over. The other chap hasn't an ounce of master's flesh about him. How them two chaps is bound up in one body, is a craddy for me to find out. But I suppose it's that second chap you married, and I bless you for it."

Margaret had smiled at Nicholas's description of John, knowing how it mirrored her previous opinion. She was grateful, however, that some understanding was being bridged between Nicholas and John, and subsequently between John and the rest of his workers. For Nicholas would not hear an unfair word spoken against the master, and John was coming to see his workers as real men.

Margaret at first thought that John made such efforts with Nicholas for her sake, but she soon suspected that her influence had little to do with it, as much as he seemed to enjoy the experience of mingling with a different kind of man. It was John, after all, who offered to accompany her to the Higginses' home to see after the Boucher children, with no hint from her. He took a rather pointed interest in the children's education and voluntarily offered his help to get them into decent schools.

Her hand stole questioningly to her stomach. She could not say how happy it made her to see John with the Boucher children, to see how he enjoyed being with them and the care he took with them. Such behavior could only bode well for their future. They had discussed their own family and children rarely, but why should she fool herself? They had been married a month, after all, and though it was far too early to know if she carried John's child, the possibility was very likely. The thought both frightened and thrilled her, and then made her blush; she and John had not neglected their connubial activities.

She was surprised by how happy she was in fulfilling her "wifely duties". To be sure, she was absolutely ignorant of relations between husband and wife before her marriage, but the few cryptic words Mrs. Thornton had offered on her wedding day gave Margaret to think such relations would be only compulsory for her. It was the first time she felt nervous about being John's wife.

And then the night came and they were alone, and his impassioned eyes fell on her in a way that made her skin tingle. His soft, hesitant touch helped assure her of his own insecurity, and his lips brushed across her skin so lightly she could hardly concentrate on anything but trying to feel them. It had almost taken her by surprise when she was completely laid bare, so consumed had she been by his mouth and adoring whispers. But then she stood before him and he looked at her with naked desire, only a small step away from total lust. A brief terror seized her and made her want to hide, but he took her face gently in his hands and whispered reverently, "You are so beautiful, Margaret." Her fears were done away in his tender caress.

What followed was shy, hesitant, and curious discovery, as kiss compounded kiss, and touch begat touch. Their breath mingled with surprise and longing as they explored each other. What forced duty was this? she wondered to herself as she basked in the sight of him. There was awkwardness, there was discomfort and even a little pain, but there was also pleasure, holiness, and joy. Now Margaret understood all that was meant by the words read that morning in the service, that husband and wife should cleave to each other and be one flesh.

Despite the initial awkwardness of her wedding night, she found herself hoping for his touch again, and was more than pleased to find he had no intention of going directly to sleep the next night, or the next. And as they came together each night, she was learning more and more of the delights of her marriage bed. In fact, it seemed the whole household knew of Margaret's happy education.

"It's positively indecent, that's what," she overheard a servant mutter to another one morning, "positively indecent for a woman to . . . enjoy her husband so much."

She did not hear the reply, so thrown was she by the disapproving words, and doubted herself the rest of the day. But when John reached for her that night, she quickly forgot the condemnation. She was his wife, and he her husband; what sin was there in this? Soon enough, she found it easy to ignore the barb she had overheard. At least she had been spared Fanny's impertinent wit; Mrs. Thornton had the presence of mind to send her to stay with family friends out by Hayleigh, so Margaret would not hear any of her mortifying remarks.

As for Mrs. Thornton herself, Margaret was still in a quandary. Some headway had been made in thawing her icy exterior, but Margaret was unsure if she would ever be able to fully pierce Mrs. Thornton's armor. And then there was the question of what to call her! She readily called Margaret by her first name, and Margaret felt more than a little silly continuing to call her Mrs. Thornton, especially since the title now applied to her, as well. But she did not know if she dared call that stern woman Hannah. What a different specimen she seemed from her own affectionate mother.

Margaret took up her comb, quickly finding the rough tangles as she thought once more of her departed mother. She hoped that Mrs. Hale would be happy with Margaret's choice, that she was now the wife of the man she loved, for whom she now waited. A memory surfaced in her mind, and she smiled softly as she began humming the waltz from the music box that was now hers.

The door opened behind her, and John stepped quickly and silently inside. His own weariness was manifest in the crease of his brow, but on seeing her still awake and looking at him through the mirror, he walked to her with a smile.

"May I?" he spoke so low his voice was nearly a rumbling echo, and she relinquished the comb gladly. This was a ritual only begun in the last few evenings, but she relished his comforting touch as he slowly drew the comb through her hair. Her savor was dampened by seeing his brow still furrowed, and she regretted that he had so much to trouble him regarding the mill. She was learning how to smooth out his brow, but she had yet to learn of how to ease all his troubles. She had faith, though, that one day that knowledge would come and they would labor together, their hearts and minds truly as one.

She was so intent on examining his face, she did not notice his hands had stopped moving over her hair. He was now looking at her with a curious expression, and she realized she had been caught staring. Even in the low light, he could see her blush, and his smile deepened at her reaction. He laid the comb down on the table and reached for her hands, pulling her up to him. She was so beautiful and alluring, his humor gave way quickly to a single desire.

She saw his eyes glisten with mischief and then darken with want, and as he drew her close, she whispered, "John." His mouth covered hers completely, and her mind allowed her only one coherent thought before the instinctive haze of love and passion overtook her.

Thank heaven! this was no dream.

A/N: That's all, folks! I would end it here without making any closing remarks, but I wanted to say a couple things. First, to reiterate that I am not great at writing couples once they're officially together, so while I'm really flattered that so many of you were looking forward to more story, I just don't trust myself to write anything decent post-proposal. One day I might try my hand at it, because I've read many post-proposal stories that are wayyyy too sappy and I'd like to see if I can manage our dear happy couple without making them sound like completely different people. I did feel I owed it to this story to write an epilogue of sorts, so you should be glad I even did this much. I hope it will suffice.

Second, here's the thing: I finished writing this story a little while ago, and I really didn't question the direction I took it as I was writing and subsequently editing it. But around the time I was posting chapters 17 and 18, I wanted to create an alternate ending for my already-alternate story. I still really like how I've ended this one, and I hope you do, too, but I've been thinking that with Margaret and John being soooooo close to sealing the deal around those chapters, it would have made sense for her to find a way to tell him about Frederick beforehand (and judging from your reviews, many of you agree). Basically, a whole lot less angst. So this is what I'm going to do. I will be posting a new ending for this as a separate story, and it will begin skewing from chapter 18. Once I post it, I'll create an author's note directing people back to this story because I don't want to post the first 17 chapters again. So for those of you who were frustrated that John didn't know about Frederick before the train station, you just may like my alternate ending better. Or maybe you'll like them the same amount! That would be fabulous!

Thank you so much for all of your kind words and reviews. It's been an eye-opening experience to write this story and get such encouraging feedback, and I've really enjoyed meeting you! See you all on the flip-side! -drops mic and walks away-