A/N: After a long obsession with North and South (book and mini-series) and much hesitation over writing and posting my first piece of fanfiction for a period drama, here it is. This is a 'what if' scenario based primarily on the book, but compatible with the mini-series also. Set before the 'foolish passion' scene at the end of Episode 3 of the mini-series occurs. I've always wondered what would happen if Margaret decided to explain to Mr. Thornton why she had lied to the police inspector.

I've included references to three other favourite 19th century novels of mine – see if you can spot them. Please do read (and hopefully enjoy) and review!

A Matter of Conscience

"He [Mr. Hale] was restless all evening. He kept saying, 'I quite expected to have seen Mr. Thornton. I think the messenger who brought the book last night must have had some note, and forgot to deliver it. Do you think there has been any message left today?'

"'I will go and inquire, papa,' said Margaret, after the changes on these sentences had been rung once or twice."

- 'North and South' by Elizabeth Gaskell

Never one to put things off, Margaret rose immediately to get her hat and coat. Initially, her errand was just to call at the house and inquire of Mrs. Thornton whether or not her son would soon be able to make time for lessons with her father. However, she had hardly walked half a mile when a different idea struck her.

It was an idea born partly out of fear of facing the stern old lady who would by now have certainly learned of her great falsehood, but mostly from the nagging regret that she had lost Mr. Thornton's good opinion and stood as a liar in his eyes. Perhaps she would go to the mill instead of the house and speak directly to Mr. Thornton. She could enquire on her father's behalf and also clear her name and hopefully regain his good opinion, or at the very least leave him with an understanding of what motivations had prompted her conduct.

Her step gained an extra spring at the thought of finally clearing herself and she spent the remaining mile and a half to Marlborough Mill constructing and rehearsing her speech in her head.

When Margaret Hale stepped into his office at the mill, Mr. Thornton was as surprised and discomfited to see her there as when they had first met. The carefully cultivated coldness of manner he had exhibited towards her for the past few months could not be called up, as he lacked the mental preparation necessary before each meeting with her. Instead he sprang to his feet and tried to conceal some of the surprise which had inadvertently slipped into his first exclamation of 'Miss Hale!'

He gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk. 'Sit down,' he said. Then, realizing how much like a command that sounded, he added hastily, 'If you please,' hoping to soften the impression of 'overbearing master' which would no doubt come of his first order.

Margaret, in her preoccupation of what to say to him hardly noticed his silent and fervent wishes that he could have bitten his tongue out. She merely sat down and for a moment did not say anything. Then suddenly noticing the ticking of the clock in the room, she was called back to reality. 'I do hope you're not very busy? I wish to talk to you about something important.'

In fact, Mr. Thornton was very busy, and he did have rather more to do that day than usual, but his curiosity in what Margaret Hale took the trouble of coming to his office to say to him was too strong for him to admit as much. 'Not much more than usual,' was his half-truthful reply. However, when it did not look like she would say anything more soon, he tried prompting her. 'Might I ask, Miss Hale, what you came to talk to me about?'

She looked rather flustered. 'Yes… yes, of course. I would like you to know – that is, I think you deserve an explanation – oh, this is more difficult than I thought it would be…' For a moment she said nothing, apparently gathering courage from her bootlaces which were the objects of her intent examination, but then she looked up and met Mr. Thornton's now intensely curious gaze with her own clear one. 'I wish to tell you what led me to tell that falsehood to the police officer. I know you saved me from the inquest, and I hope by explaining my motives that you will not regret it.'

Then, seeing his mouth open to reply to this she hastily cut across him. 'Please, don't say anything – don't judge me before I tell you everything, please don't!' He shut his mouth and did not utter whatever it was he had been about to say.

She took a deep breath before continuing. 'My explanation must begin with the man you saw me with at Outwood Station. His name is Frederick Hale, and he –'

Forgetting her entreaty that he remain silent until she had finished, he burst out, 'Hale? Then he –' He stopped abruptly, his reason catching up with his jealous imaginings. There was more than one relationship between a man and a woman who shared the same name – especially if that name was the woman's maiden name…

She nodded earnestly, voicing the slow conviction that was building in Mr. Thornton's mind. 'Fred is my brother. Eight years ago, he joined the Navy…' As he listened to her story of the mutiny and her brother's subsequent danger if he ever returned to England, he had to fight hard to stop his jubilation – he was her brother! – from showing in his countenance. He managed admirably by telling himself that though she did not have a secret lover, there was still no way she would ever have him, and this served to successfully keep his expression merely that of a grave listener (a very grave listener).

'So you see,' she finished finally, 'I did not know whether or not Fred had safely left England when I was questioned by the police inspector, and I was so afraid that his identity would be revealed and he'd be hanged. Otherwise I would never have lied.' Her voice trembled slightly. 'I have regretted that falsehood every day since I found that he was safely out of the country when I was questioned. I… I especially hated to think that you thought badly of me.'

Mr. Thornton quashed any hopes that last sentence raised with brutal rapidity. Anyone who had heard her impassioned words when she had rejected him would know that there was no way she could ever love him. 'I thank you for telling me. Your reasons for acting so were justified, and if I had been in your position, I would perhaps have done the same.' He could not think of what else to say – he was every moment in danger of being overwhelmed by his feelings and saying what he was sure would provoke another severe repression from her. The silence stretched on.

She stood abruptly, as if to leave and though he stood as well, neither of them made any further move. He did not say anything to hurry her departure, but nor did he do anything to prolong her stay. Margaret stood irresolutely; she had thought that telling Mr. Thornton and making him understand would relieve her of the strange wild miserable feeling burdening her heart. In actuality, the relief was but little, for she was certain by his grave manner that he felt nothing more for her than concern as a friend of the family, that such precious feelings as he had once harboured for her were gone forever.

Margaret gave a deep trembling sigh and her eyes prickled uncomfortably. She had fooled herself into believing that his good opinion was all that she desired.

Despite all her efforts, she could not stop the fall of a teardrop from one brimming eyelid. She dashed it away impatiently, but the damage was done. Once one had fallen, many more followed and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. She sank back into her chair and covered her face with her hands.

In an instant Mr. Thornton was out from behind his desk and at her side. 'Margaret, what's the matter?' he asked, his voice desperately concerned. Without his noticing, her Christian name had slipped out of his mouth.

She gratefully accepted the clean white handkerchief he offered. 'It's nothing really.' She savagely swiped at her face, trying to stop the tears that would keep coming. 'I'm just being silly – oh! why couldn't I have waited until I got home?' she muttered the last reproach to herself.

Mr. Thornton's face was very serious. 'Margaret, if I have said or done anything to upset you so, I am most sincerely sorry for it. Won't you tell me what I have done?' The last was a pleading entreaty.

Margaret, who had looked up so fast her neck had cricked at this second use of her Christian name (the first that she had noticed), lowered her now blushing face back into her hands. How could she tell him what the matter was? How could she tell him that what he had done wrong was to be simply a concerned friend (and nothing more)?

Finally she lifted her face, still flushed. She started in a quivering voice, 'Mr. Thornton, the police inspector was not the only person I lied to.' Her voice gained strength as she found comfort in the thought that, whatever the aftermath of what she was about to say, she would no longer have to keep any wretched secrets. 'You remember that day when you left your gloves at our house?'

Mr. Thornton's face darkened as the vivid recollection of that day, ever-present at the back of his thoughts, came to the forefront.

'And you remember how I said that there was not a man in all that crowd for whom I would not have done more, and more gladly?'

He gritted his teeth. 'Vividly. What of it?' His tone was more bitter than he'd intended it to be.

She sadly noted his manner. 'Well, I was lying, not only to you, but to myself as well. Possibly there was not a man in all that crowd for whom I would have done as much.' By this time, her face was glowing like the setting sun and radiating about as much heat.

Mr. Thornton's voice was hoarse. 'Are… are you saying that you…?' His question hung hot and heavy in the air.

She could not meet his eyes. 'It was another lie that I regret every day.' Again there was silence except of the sound of the clock ticking. Margaret sighed. What on earth had she been expecting? She stood again and turned to leave.

She was almost at the door when she remembered she still had his handkerchief. She turned back and retraced her steps. 'I'm sorry, I still have your…' She held it out to him.

He looked at it for a moment, and then, instead of taking it, he took her hand in his and pulled her to him. Her sigh was muffled against his lips and she could feel him smiling. It was contagious. Again the silence stretched on, but this time it was a delicious, intoxicating silence.

Mr. Thornton was the first to speak, his forehead resting against hers. 'I should go speak to your father,' he murmured softly, reluctantly bringing them back to the real world.

But the mention of her father brought her real errand back into Margaret's mind. 'Oh dear!' she exclaimed first, and then began to laugh softly. 'I forgot all about my first purpose in coming here.' Seeing Mr. Thornton's curious glance, she elaborated. 'I was supposed to express on behalf of my father his regret that you had not been able to come to your lessons lately and his hope that you would soon resume them. Telling you about Fred was a plan that occurred to me on the way here, and telling you that I…' Again a delightful blush spread across her cheeks. 'Well, that particular reckless impulse was completely unplanned.'

Mr. Thornton's smile widened and he kissed her quickly, enjoying seeing her colour heighten. 'By all means, continue being recklessly impulsive, but only with me.'

They walked slowly to her father's house, speaking what they had held in their hearts for so long, standing as close together as was socially acceptable.

Throughout that afternoon's interview, Mr. Thornton's feelings had undergone quite an incredible change. Margaret had embraced the man at the station. He was a black-hearted villain and a scoundrel of the first order. She had come to explain her conduct to him. The man's character had some hope of reform. He was her brother. Frederick Hale was really a good sort of fellow. She was his Margaret, by hand and heart, and if Mr. Thornton could have spared a thought for Frederick Hale at that moment, he would have deemed him the best man that ever lived.

A/N: Very nervous about how my first period drama fanfic will be received. Please review with any feedback, criticism, comments, etc.!