The story begins just after Maragret's father dies. With no one showing her any sympathy, what will happen when Mr Thornton is the only person to be genuinely kind to her?

"Miss Margaret? Your aunt has arrived. She's waiting downstairs."

Dixon waited for the tiny nod Margaret gave her in acknowledgement before bustling out of the room. Margaret sat for a moment, trying to find the courage to face her aunt, before rising from her chair and listlessly making her way down to the sitting room. There, her aunt was stood staring disdainfully out the window at the sooty street behind the grimy glass.

"Aunt."

"Ah, Margaret. It is good to see you, my dear girl. Now come, we have much to do before we leave for London, and we need to be on the train as soon as we can manage."

"You are taking me to London?"

Whilst Margaret knew that her aunt would come and get her once the news was known, there was some part of her that hadn't really believed she would have to leave Milton. She was so used to her independence that it was naturally galling to be taken away, back to somewhere she would be forced into a routine she had no say in, a place where there were no reminders of the life she had grown to love. But her aunt was her closest relative. As she was still not of age, she had no choice but to comply, no matter how hard she wished to fight. As it was, she could not find the energy to argue, not so soon, when the grief was still so fresh, and she was the only one in the household to remember her father fondly.

"Of course I am taking you to London, Margaret, I couldn't possibly leave you here in this dirty place. Why if it were your father who had died before your mother I would have had you both brought to London immediately. But no matter, what's done is done, and I shall simply remove you from here as soon as possible. It is what your mother would have wanted after all. Oh, my poor sister!" She lamented, "Buried here all alone! Why, he did not even have the courtesy to die where he could remain with her. He, in Oxford, a place he loved, among friends, while she is abandoned in this savage place! How you must have suffered here, Margaret. Indeed, you are looking remarkably pale, perhaps you should rest while I see to the arrangements."

Margaret had indeed turned pale; however, it was not from suffering in Milton but rather the shock of hearing her aunt abuse her beloved father so brutally to her face. She knew her aunt and father had struggled to get along, but to hold such anger, to be able to insult him in front of his bereaved daughter, it was too much! Margaret was glad to escape back to her room. Soon though, she was forced to flee once more, as Dixon had been directed to see to her clothes and had been emboldened by Mrs Shaw's presence, enough so that she was quite happy scorning her father and Milton in her presence.

Hidden away in her father's study, Margaret refused to allow herself to cry over her circumstances. While she had cried tears for her father only that morning, now she felt that any tears would be shed only about the freedom she was about to lose and would not allow herself to wallow in such selfish thoughts. Not when her aunt had come all the way from London to offer her protection, to take her into her household with no thought of recompense.

The strain of holding back such riotous emotion exhausted her, so much so that she could offer no arguments when her aunt summoned her for tea and spoke of leaving immediately after a rather late lunch. It was only after she was somewhat irked by a rather forward comment from Dixon that she was finally able to assert herself.

"Aunt we cannot go straight after lunch. I must take leave of my friends."

"Oh Margaret, what kind of friends can you possibly have made in a place like this? How your father could have thought to bring you this dreadful place, I will never know. Letting you associate with tradesmen! It is a degradation."

With Dixon nodding her head emphatically from where she was serving tea, Mrs Shaw must have seen Margaret's face harden, for she continued in a far more conciliatory tone.

"Come now, my dear, I am sure there is no need to see these people, they cannot expect you to go visiting when you are in mourning. No, it is much better to leave immediately. You can write to them to explain, they cannot believe we would deign to visit them under such circumstances."

"Indeed," Dixon piped up from her corner, "you are much too good for them miss, you shouldn't lower yourself by giving them you notice."

Margaret could barely contain her annoyance at such a speech. Dixon, a servant herself no less, thinking herself above the leading manufacturer of the city, merely by the virtue of being from the south! Clearly Dixon had been given too much consequence, and Margaret, unwilling and dependent as she was, had never challenged her. At that moment, she felt a surge of anger, at Dixon, at her mother for undermining her authority in the case of Dixon, at her circumstances, and could not stop the rebuke that rolled from her tongue to the stubborn servant.

"Dixon! I will not have you denigrate my friends. Do you not remember the kindness Mr Thornton showed us when mother was ill? Do you not remember the service Mrs Thornton rendered us? Remember your position Dixon. I will not hear you abuse the goodness we have been shown here. Mr Thornton has done more for us than you will ever know."

Dixon seemed taken aback by her outburst, but it did not stop her from arguing her point.

"He was your father's friend, miss. Pardon me for saying but he never did anything good for us. It was his fault we ended up here in the dreadful place. If he hadn't found this house, we could be settled elsewhere."

"I do not pardon you, Dixon, for you are wrong and you forget yourself. Your wilful ignorance in the affairs of this house is inexcusable. I will not hear another word spoken against Mr Thornton, am I understood?"

Dixon appeared to wish to disagree but held her tongue and gave a grudging nod.

Margaret looked to her aunt to see if she would insist on her original plan, but it seemed as if he were too shocked at Margaret's behaviour to take the issue further. Her stare shamed Margaret back into the meek manner she had had since the news of her father had been received, and she quietly left the room and once again took refuge in her father's study.

There, she could not help but reflect on the wonderful times she had had in that room. Her father's very essence was encapsulated within those walls, and she hated the thought of losing the place he closest to her. She knew her aunt would not let her keep all the books, they covered nearly all four walls after all, but she dearly hoped to keep his favourites at least. She could not bear the thought that she would have to part with them, that some unknown reader may not appreciate their value like she could, and resolved to do her best to send them where they would be wanted. Surely Mr Bell could help her. He would know people who would understand what her father felt for those books. Yes, she would ask Mr Bell.

Some time later, an irate Dixon fetched her to take some food, and the subject of visiting was once again raised with her aunt.

"Margaret, if these people truly are you friends, they will understand if you leave for London now."

"I will not do them the discourtesy of taking myself off without so much as a by your leave! If you were leaving somewhere, perhaps forever, would you not tell your friends in person?"

"Margaret that would be different entirely."

"No it would not. I do not judge my friends for their station in life. I would appreciate it if you would do the same."

"Well in any case we simply will not have time. If we are to be in London tonight, we must leave soon."

"Very well. I will go alone. You may oversee Dixon in the packing."

"You cannot go alone!"

"I can and I shall. If you do not wish to come, then I will meet you at the station."

Her aunt could clearly see that nothing she said would change her mind. Sighing, she finally capitulated to Margaret's wish.

"Very well Margaret. We will visit your friends. But then we must leave for London."

"Thank you, Aunt."

Margaret left the room to fetch her things, not wanting to give Dixon a reason to delay them, but found upon reaching her bed chamber that her energy had deserted her. She sat heavily on her bed. The stress of the morning, combined with sleepless nights and days of misery, settled over her in a lethargic blanket that she could not throw off. Only the thought of their impending visit to the Thornton's forced her to move, tugging on her coat and bonnet, before descending the stairs once more.

Upon passing her father's study an impulse to give Mr Thornton something to remember him by (and by extension her) seized her, and she took the book of Plato she watched them debate over many evenings. Perhaps she was viewing the past through rose coloured lenses, but she truly could not think of a time she felt more welcome in her father's life as when he included her in his lessons with Mr Thornton. While they may have argued more often than not, Margaret was grateful that Mr Thornton allowed her to express herself, listening respectfully, even as she spoke of her naïve view of the world. She could not leave without somehow saying thank you – however indirectly it might have to be – and so Father's Plato would go to Mr Thornton, while she prayed he could eventually be brought to think well of her.

Continuing down the stairs she came to the door where her aunt was waiting, having already somehow secured a cab, and boarded the waiting vehicle with instructions to take them to Marlborough Mills. The journey there was filled with awkward silence. Her aunt was clearly disgruntled about being forced to attend to people she believed below her, but Margaret put it from her mind. She had no ability to sooth injured feelings of superiority when she was hurting herself. Be that as it may, she was relieved when they finally pulled up outside the mill and she could escape thick tension inside the carriage.

While she had pushed hard to visit Mrs Thornton to take her leave, she was still apprehensive when thinking of that lady's terse manner. She was uncertain if she could keep her composure if she began to censure her again, but she hoped that Mrs Thornton would be feeling some sympathy for and would leave off any lectures. Following a servant through the house, they came to the living room where Mrs Thornton was seated with her mending. She placed her sewing in a basket next to her and rose to greet them in her usual clipped way.

"Miss Hale. I did not expect to see you."

"Yes. I am sorry for calling unannounced. This is my aunt, Mrs Shaw. She is taking me back to London. Aunt, this is Mrs Thornton. She was a great support to mother when she was ill."

After a brief nod of acknowledgement to her aunt – who was clearly viewing her surroundings with an air of distaste – Mrs Thornton turned to Margaret.

"I was sorry to hear of your father, Miss Hale. He was a good man."

Margaret forced herself to hold back tears that threatened at hearing the first kindly words for her father since his passing.

"Thank you, Mrs Thornton. It means more than you can know to hear you say that."

Her voice trembled on those last words, but she kept her composure and allowed her aunt to take over the conversation.

"Mrs Shaw, you are from London?"

"Yes, Mrs Thornton. Harley Street has been my home for many years. You can probably imagine how eager we are to have Margaret back with us."

Margaret could hardly meet Mrs Thornton's eye when she looked at her. Her aunt's manner was condescending, like she had deigned to gift her presence in Mrs Thornton's home. Mrs Thornton could hardly be unaware and was unlikely to be endeared to her any further with such badly behaved relatives. It threw her behaviour when she first arrived in Milton into a harsh light, and her shame made it so that she almost missed the comment Mrs Thornton directed at her.

"I had not realised you lived in London, Miss Hale. The way you spoke of your home made me think you had always been there."

"I have lived in London during the season since I was nine. I spent my summers in Helstone."

"I see."

The conversation lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the entrance of Mr Thornton. He looked surprised to see her, before he schooled his face into a blank expression.

"Ah, John. Miss Hale has come to take her leave of us. She is leaving for London."

Mr Thornton turned to her.

"You are leaving?"

"I must Mr Thornton." She scarcely whispered her response. He sent a glance to his mother, who suddenly found she needed to enquire of a great many things with her aunt, but Margaret could not attend their conversation. Mr Thornton moved closer to her.

"I am sorry about your father, Miss Hale. I will miss him greatly, he was a good friend to me."

Tears threatened again at his words, but she choked out her thanks and tried to find the courage to give him father's Plato. Before she could however, he began speaking quietly.

"How are you, Miss Hale? I know how the loss of a father can affect you, but I cannot imagine how you must feel. This year has not been good to you."

His words finally unlocked the dam building behind her eyes. She could do nothing but stare at him while forcing down sobs as tears streamed down her face. His eyes widened as her self-control shattered and he seemed to reach out instinctually to take her hand. He pulled back upon contact however, before calling out to where his mother had drifted to during their conversation.

"Mother, will you excuse us for a moment? I have a book in my study I wished to show Mr Hale and I would like Miss Hale to see it. I think she would appreciate a chance to see if before she leaves."

Margaret could not see her response, but Mr Thornton leaned down and whispered to her, so she assumed it was acquiescence.

"Miss Hale, come with me." He led her out of the sitting room and into a comfortable looking study down the hall. He had her sit on a small couch in front of a fireplace and propped his elbow on the mantlepiece above it. She was still trying to contain her blubbering when he spoke.

"Forgive me for taking you away like that, Miss Hale, but I thought you might prefer a few moments of privacy. I can leave if you would prefer to be alone, but I would not leave you if you do not desire it."

She could not reply to his earnest stare, focused as she was on not sinking down on the couch to weep, and so let out a garbled cry in an attempt to make him stay. She gasped for breath to speak to him, but doing so allowed the sobs to take hold, and she could do nothing but shake from the force of them. She noticed when he came and sat next to her, close enough that she brushed against him as she rocked back and forth under the pressure of her grief. She was almost shocked into silence when an arm encircled her shoulders, but the tenderness of his embrace only served to remind her of the lack of comfort she had been offered by those closest to her, and her sobs were renewed, only this time into the wool of Mr Thornton's coat.

It took some time for her sobs to subside, but when they did, she could not immediately pull away. The security she felt, safely ensconced within his arms, held an allure she hardly knew what to do with. At some point she had reached out and now had his lapel in a fierce grasp. She could not find the strength to let go, and it seemed that Mr Thornton was perfectly happy to stay where he was, as he had started to rub her back in a comforting motion that had her – despite her own mortification – relaxing even further against him, to the point he was practically holding her up. She had to forcefully stop herself nuzzling even closer into his shoulder, something she used to do when her father held her as a child, and remind herself that this was a man who rightfully disliked her, no matter his current actions.

Eventually though, she knew she must move. She pulled away, allowing Mr Thornton his arm back. A handkerchief was pressed into her hand, and she took it gratefully to wipe away the evidence of tears on her cheeks. After sitting back, she forced herself to meet Mr Thornton's gaze and the compassion she found in his eyes almost had her weeping again.

"Miss Hale? Are you feeling better?"

She looked away.

"I am sorry, Mr Thornton. I never meant to make such a display of myself. It's just…It's just..." She looked back up at him and found no well-deserved censure in his face and so decided to share her sorrows with him. "It's just that ever since I heard the news of my father, you are the first person to show me any genuine kindness. My aunt is too busy trying to take me to London and Dixon has not hidden her feelings about my father at all. She never liked him, or Milton, but now she seems to have found the courage to share it most forcefully."

Thornton's face hardened as she spoke, turning down into the frown he wore whenever she crossed his path. She consoled herself that this time it was directed at someone else and felt somewhat gladdened at the thought of him frowning for her instead of at her, regardless of how long it lasted.

"Your aunt has not been a comfort to you then?"

"No. It pains me to be so harsh, but she has had no thought for me. Only how she can leave Milton as soon as possible. I understand that it is what she thinks is best for me, but she refuses to listen to me."

"I am sorry to hear that. Now, more than ever you need someone to support you."

She could only sniffle in response.

"You will be leaving soon?"

She nodded.

"You will be missed here."

In that moment Margaret could imagine they were good friends, and that he would truly miss her. But surely even he could not really miss her after the way she had behaved. He seemed so bitter the last time he visited her father, she could hardly understand why he was being so kind to her. No, he probably meant Higgins and the children. She would not be allowed to go and see them before she left. Her eyes watered once again, and he looked at her with concern.

"Miss Hale?" He reached out slowly, as if she would shy away, and took her hand, squeezing gently as she swiped at her eyes with his handkerchief. "Will you be alright?"

Margaret gasped out a harsh laugh. "How can I be? I have lost everything I care about. My parents are gone, the closest family I have hate this place, a place where I'm leaving all my friends. How am I supposed to be happy in London? I have no independence, no purpose. How can I possibly live with no meaningful distractions?"

His gaze was pitying.

"I don't know."

"Neither do I."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Margaret was distracted by Mr Thornton's thumb stroking in a seemingly thoughtless manner across her knuckles, and her mind rushed back to the last time she had been held in his arms. The riots and events that followed were burned into her memory, and she could only regret the way she had treated him. In a moment of sudden madness, she realised she could not leave without explaining her brother's presence during her mother's final days. She seized his hand tightly in hers.

"Mr Thornton," he looked at her in surprise, "please, I must tell you about that night at the station."

She watched as his face closed off at her words, but he did not pull away from her, and gave a brief nod to her to continue.

"I know you think badly of me." Her voice wavered. "And I can not blame you, but I assure you it was not what you think."

"What should I think then?"

His answer was terse, but she would not allow it to affect her. He had every right to be short with her, but the hand still holding hers lent her the courage she needed to continue.

"That man was m- "

A sharp knock on the door startled them both as Mrs Thornton walked in. She eyed their joined hands with a raised eyebrow, but Margaret could not bring herself to let go.

"Mother-"

"John you have been in here far too long. Miss Hale must return to her aunt."

"Mother, Miss Hale was about to explain her actions at the station."

It was clear to Margaret that Mrs Thornton was displeased by the reminder, and she turned to Margaret with a grim look.

"I'm afraid we simply do not have time for your tales, Miss Hale."

"Mother-"

"I understand, Mrs Thornton." She barely whispered her response and could not meet her eye as she raised herself wearily from her seat. "I am sorry for the imposition my family has caused you."

She turned to leave but was stopped by Mr Thornton's hand on her arm.

"No, wait. Mother, please allow Miss Hale to explain. It can surely do no harm."

"No harm? John, have you forgotten her behaviour? How she treated you?"

"Mother, stop. Miss Hale does not need to hear this now. You have remonstrated with her once before. Allow her to explain."

"Even if I wished to, I am only here to fetch you both. Fanny has arrived, and Mrs Shaw is growing impatient."

Margaret could feel her eyes growing moist at the helplessness of her situation. She glanced up at Mr Thornton and watched as he took in her miserable visage and turned with an urgency back to his mother.

"Mother, let her explain."

Mrs Thornton sighed. "John we really do not have time."

Mr Thornton stared at his mother, and even to Margaret's unfamiliar eyes, it was obvious he was desperately trying to convince her to change her mind with a look alone…and to Margaret's astonishment, it seemed to be working. Mrs Thornton softened slightly and turned to her.

"There is no time. But you may write to me, knowing that John will be told what you have to say."

Thankfulness surged within her and she could hardly contain her response.

"Oh, thank you, Mrs Thornton, I am so grateful."

"Yes, well, it still remains to be seen if-"

"Mother." Mr Thornton cut her off rather forcefully, but Margaret well understood her meaning. She would receive no forgiveness from Mrs Thornton without a good reason, but she was too glad for the opportunity to attempt to give one to feel disheartened.

"Your aunt is waiting, Miss Hale." And with that Mrs Thornton strode from the room.

Margaret tried to follow but was once again stopped by Mr Thornton.

"Miss Hale."

She turned to find him staring at her but could not decipher the look in his eyes. Finally, he seemed to come to some sort of decision and moved towards her.

"I do not want to think badly of you, Miss Hale. In truth, I have found it impossible to hate you, despite what you think."

Margaret was completely lost for words at his confession and could only follow numbly as he led her back to the parlour.

Upon reaching the room she found her aunt in conversation with Fanny Watson. Or rather, she found her aunt being bombarded by questions, with scarcely time to answer before Fanny found something else to ask. When her aunt spotted her, she insisted on taking their leave, and Margaret could do nothing but oblige and make her goodbyes to Mrs Thornton and Fanny.

"I am sorry to have missed you on this visit, Mrs Watson. Should you ever visit London I would be happy to receive you at Harley Street. I hope you have settled well into your new home."

"I have, Miss Hale. It's a shame you have never been able to visit, I've finished the walls with a lovely Indian paper that-"

"Fanny, Miss Hale does not have the time to listen your prattle about wallpapers."

Fanny's lips pursed but she nodded and moved to Mrs Shaw to allow her to take her leave. Mrs Thornton merely inclined her head to Margaret and followed Fanny across the room.

Facing Mr Thornton once again, she finally found the courage to present him with her Father's book. He smiled at it, and then at her (it almost made her giddy), before thanking her profusely.

"I shall truly treasure this, Miss Hale. I am honoured you thought of me to have it."

"I believe you are the only person who can appreciate it as much as he did. Please do not forget him. Or her. I do not want to leave her here alone."

"I shall visit her grave when I can, Miss Hale. Never fear, they will both be remembered fondly here."

"Thank you, Mr Thornton." She whispered. "It does my heart good to hear that. And please know, I would do anything to earn your good opinion again."

He watched her again with unreadable eyes, before nodding and turning to her aunt.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Shaw. Please allow me to escort you to your carriage."

Mrs Shaw nodded regally, as if it were her due, but conveniently did not see Mr Thornton's proffered arm. Margaret's face burned with shame but felt she reassured by his amused expression when he offered his arm to her instead.

"She really does dislike Milton doesn't she?" He murmured to her. "Is she afraid I will not wash off?"

Margaret had to quieten a giggle at his words. Even though she still felt appalled at her aunt's manner, Mr Thornton's clear amusement at the situation served to calm her agitation, and she was able smile up at him as he led her down the stairs at the front of the house. She was surprised that he was not offended at Mrs Shaw's treatment of him (he certainly had never been quiet in his defence of his town and way of life in the past) but suspected he did not wish to add to her burdens.

"If you do not wash off, at least I can say I have not left Milton behind completely."

His smile widened, and he reached over to squeeze the hand gripping his arm. By this time, they had reached the waiting cab and watched as Mrs Shaw climbed aboard herself.

Margaret sighed and forced herself to release Mr Thornton's arm. He faced her, and after a moment's deliberation offered his hand. Once her hand was within his grasp he made no effort to shake it, but stared at it intently, before shocking her by turning it and bowing over it. She looked at him in wonder as he rose and gave her a gentle smile.

"We cannot have you forgetting the ways of the south now you are to live there again."

Margaret would not allow tears to fall at his words but instead clasped his hand tighter and shook it firmly.

"And I shall certainly not forget the ways of the North, no matter how long I am away."

Mr Thornton gazed at her with an expression full of sadness. She squeezed his hand.

"Come now, Mr Thornton. I am certain we shall meet again. Indeed, I am counting on it most assuredly."

He gave her a sad smile, but they were both distracted by her aunt calling for her to enter the carriage. He helped her in, said goodbye, and shut the door. The carriage pulled away and she could not stop herself turning to get one last glimpse of him. He was stood at the steps watching them depart but raised his hand when he saw her peering through the window. She did not have time to wave back before they turned out of sight and she left behind a piece of herself she never knew could exist before she met Mr Thornton.

Within an hour they were sat on the train to London, and Margaret watched wistfully as the distant chimneys faded from view as she settled herself down for the long journey ahead.

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing anything at all. Please let me know what you think! I can't promise an update schedule (i've just started a new job so i'm busy busy busy!) but I'm going to try and have one chapter a month out.

I hope you enjoy!