The air is crisp when Margaret Hale enters the carriage in front of her aunt's house in Harley Street. Now that her dear best friend had gotten married, it was time for her to return to her family home of Helstone.

Despite the fact that Edith had seemingly married on the warmest day summer had to offer and autumn was but a month removed, Margaret looked forward to being reunited with her childhood home. Wrapped up in her morning gown and her fine Indian shawl, she smiled excitedly at her father once he awakened from the sleep he had entered minutes after departing London.

Looking at the lush dusky green forest trees, the fern below them catching all the slanting sunbeams, Margaret decided she very much loved being back home surrounded by tranquil nature. She didn't spend her days running around chasing butterflies like she used to, but she very much reclaimed the unworried tranquillity of Helstone life, visiting the poor, and making long walks. However, life away from home, with only the occasional holiday visit, had made her forget the awkward silences and the hours of discontent.

It was in these hours the negative attitude of her mother hit her most hard. 'It is undoubtedly one of the most out-of-the-way places in England. I can't help regretting constantly that papa has really no one to associate with here; he is so thrown away, seeing no one but farmers and labourers from week's end to week's end. If we only lived at the other side of the parish, it would be something. There we should be almost within walking distance of the Stansfiels, certainly the Gormans would be within a walk.'

Margaret rather liked not being near the Gormans, who had made their fortunes in trade. She disliked shoppy people and much preferred cottagers and labourers and other people without pretence.

Seeing her daughter's discontent, Mrs Hale protested. 'You must not be so fastidious Margaret, dear! I've met the young Mr Gormans at Mr Hume's and he's quite an agreeable gentleman. Oh how can you deal with Helstone, you must find it dull at times like these without diverse society. This is not the place to find a husband or friends.'

'No mother, I call mine a very comprehensive taste. I like all people whose occupations have to do with land, I like soldiers, sailors and the three learned professions. I'm sure you don't want me to admire butchers, bakers and candlestick makers, do you, mama?'
'But the Gormans were neiher butchers nor bakers but very respectable coach-builders.'
'Very well, but it is a trade all the same. I think it is even more useless than that of butchers and bakers. Oh! How tired I used to be of the drives every day in Aunt Shaw's carriage while I longed to walk.'

And she stood by her words, disliking tradesmen and detesting coaches, walking plenty at her father's side with the wind in her face. But during the evening hours, she had to admit that she found it growingly difficult to spend her evenings in a satisfactory matter. Not that she had always amused herself or spent the evening in a useful fashion in London, but there the evenings had at least the benefit of not being so monotone she was reduced to counting the sound of raindrops. It was during these gloomy September days she missed having Frederick around, before he entered the navy, before the mutiny happened of which she knew so little.

Later on she wondered if it was during evenings like these where the lack of intellectual acquaintances was felt, and they spent their evenings reading philosophical books and drawing, that Mr Hale had started philosophizing and questioning to the point of no return.

A point that shocked and saddened everyone in the household so shortly after a first shocking event presented itself to Margaret that very same day. The shock presented itself first joyfully, in the form of Henry Lennox.

Margaret's parents warmly welcomed the friend and Margaret was at first glad to spend time with someone of about the same age and intellect with whom she had spent so much time during the courtship of Edith and his brother. She took him to the beautiful places she had told him about, and intensely enjoyed the break from solitude as she drew him whilst she sat on her tree trunk throne. But how soon did her joy turn to horror when he proposed. She had not been naïve, she had known of Mrs Shaw's desires to see the two spares married as well, so that both her daughter and niece could have a wealthy London life of leisure.

Something switched in Margaret. She had just gotten home. She wanted to spend time with her parents after these ten years in London. How could she abandon them now that she had finally returned? How could she return to London, just now that she had decided she was glad she didn't need the London fancies to live? Here she assisted her mother and offered her the female intellectual conversation and emotional understanding her mother had so sorely missed, here she supported her father's good works. She couldn't trade it for idle afternoons discussing fashion and visiting superficial acquaintances again. She wished she was back with her parents, safe.

She didn't even know how to take the proposal, and was rendered mute until mr Lennox coaxed her out of it again.

'I was startled. I did not know that you cared for me that way, sir. I have always considered you a dear friend, and please I do wish to continue thinking of you like that. I don't like to have been spoken to as you have been doing. I cannot give you the answer you want, but I will feel so sorry if I vex you with my answer.'

'Margaret, do you-' His lips moved but no other words followed once he saw the serenity in her eyes, the absolute lack of emotional passion or conflict. 'Miss Hale, forgive me. I have been too abrupt. I am punished. Only let me hope. Give me the poor comfort of telling me you have never seen any one whom you could- '

'Oh if you had but never let this fancy get into your head! It was such a pleasure to think of you as a dear friend, mr Lennox.'

'But I may hope, may I not, miss Hale? That some time you will think of me as a lover. Not yet, I see, there is no hurry, we have some time.'

'Please know that I have never thought of you as… As but a friend. Mr Lennox, Henry, I like to think of you so, but I am sure I could never quite think of you as anything else. Pay let us boh forget all of this conversation has taken place.'

'Of course, your feelings are so decided, they always are, are they not miss Hale? This conversation has been so unpleasant for you, it is best if it will not be remembered. You must however understand that it will be somewhat difficult for me, to carry it into execution.

Margaret had never before dealt with male emotions, let alone declarations of love. All love always went straight to Edith who had a face simply made for loving. She felt out of depth, having never considered love nor having learned how to deal with emotions in conversation. She had of course, objectively and distantly known that she was supposed to marry and she had known that an engagement was necessary for marriage. But she had never imagined getting one, nor had she imagined the possibility of declining one. She felt unfairly unprepared for this ordeal.

'You are vexed, my friend, yet how can I help it?'

'Allow me the mortification, not only the mortification of a spurned lover but that of a man who is used to being so prudent yet forced to abandon prudence because of passion. But come, let us say no more of it. We shall leave this behind, I shall have to console myself with scorning my own folly', he exclaimed while mustering a smile.

But Margaret couldn't return the smile. He was indeed a dear friend, her best friend who understood her better than all others in Harley Street even, but his reaction to her refusal had made obvious the points which had always annoyed her; the entitlement and disdain for things which didn't bend to his will.

When, at the end of the evening, after the most awkward of dinner's, Henry Lennox spoke his parting words to her, Margaret was glad of her stay in Helstone, for it would have been exceedingly difficult to deal with him on a daily basis in London. Because despite that his goodbye made her forgive his entitled words after her refusal, it still left her feeling very uneasy and unsettled. 'Margaret, don't despise me, I have a heart. Not withstanding all this good-for-nothing way of talking, as a proof of it, I believe I love you now more than ever- I don't hate you- for the disdain with which you have listened to me during this last half-hour. Goodbye, Margaret.'

Margaret was left reeling in the wake of his parting, the silence now deafening. She didn't notice when Dixon brushed her hair most hurriedly, and didn't even notice her mother coming in the drawing room as she sat by the fire.

Men were so different to women, she decided. Her instincts had left her no choice but to refuse him. She had at first marvelled at how just moments after a refused proposal, he could talk lightheartedly while he was supposed to have an indescribably large love for her, but then she realized that Henry being Henry, he probably concealed his feelings with humour so as not to show them. After all, they did share the opinion that showing too much emotion and sentiment in public was distasteful.

But she was certain she could not have been so calm after having her heart broken. But then again, how often had Margaret's emotions been so violent and intense? She couldn't remember the last time she had been overcome with emotion since that first week of sadness and adjustment had passed when she came to live with aunt Shaw.

She couldn't even imagine feeling that kind of intensity ever again. Until her father spoke the most incredible words to her that evening, the words she thought she'd never hear: 'Margaret, I am to leave Helstone.'

If Henry Lennox's proposal had been a slap to the face of her lovely tranquillity, this declaration hit her other cheek and left her eyes burning at the injustice of it all.

Why was this happening?

She had wanted to return to Helstone and her family. She had rejected Henry Lennox because of her lack of love for him, but most importantly because she wanted to be together with her family in Helstone instead of in London… And now they were going to leave?

His reasoning was another strong hit to her heart. 'I must no longer be a minister in the Church of England.'

The mystery surrounding his statements made it all the worse. It was obvious that it stemmed from years of sad, long, lingering pain. His face, old, wrinkled and worried begged from a kind judgement from his child.

It could not be understood.

He could not be convinced.

He was decided and their fate was sealed.

Nothing could be changed.

Nothing could be done.

Except help with the packing and moving.

To the harbour town of Liverpool in the high North of Britain where the Liverpudlians lived and scouse was served and spoken.