A Misguided Mistake

Chapter Nine

They remained in that quiet embrace until Margaret's senses overtook her. Anyone could catch them here, for her father was not in bed yet and Dixon was still prowling around. Hot shame flooded through her as Margaret pulled away, as she realised she had behaved without a care for her reputation once more.

"You should go." Margaret whispered as they broke apart. "It is late."

And it will not do for you to constantly be leaving here very late at night, no matter how innocent the pretence of your lessons here, she thought. His mother was no fool, that much was certain, and her suspicions would only be confirmed by her son's repeated midnight returns home.

"May I see you tomorrow?" He asked, his thumb stroking at her jaw as he gazed down at her , a small smile tugging at his lips.

"I do not know if I can - Mama is not well." Margaret said, thinking of just how unwell her mother had seemed earlier that day. "I fear - I fear there is not much time left. I shouldn't have gone to London, I can't leave her again."

"I am sorry," He exhaled deeply. "Can I help in any way?"

Though her opinion of him had not always been as favourable as it was now (her swollen lips a testament to her improved consideration of him), she would willingly concede that he was a surprisingly generous man to those he considered friends. He had always been most kind to her mother and father; something that she would always be grateful for, no matter the nature of her own relationship with Mr Thornton.

"No. Thank you. I am very tired. It has been a long day."

That was certainly no lie; the journey back from London had been tedious, and the sudden decline of her mother had shaken her. She had had no time to adjust to the change in her, for the time spent in the company of others had been spent pretending that nothing was wrong. She wished to crawl into bed, to have time to come to terms with the fact her mother would soon be gone - and that her brother had still not come.

She could tell Mr Thornton none of that, and she was thankful that he asked no questions. Instead, he held her hand, bringing it to his lips. She watched him curiously, for despite all of the ways his lips had touched her, this felt strangely intimate. He straightened, her hand falling back to her side, and nodded his head.

"Of course. I will bid you goodnight."

He turned to the door, and with one final kiss, he was gone. Margaret closed the door behind it, pressing her weight against it. Despite the sorrow lodged deep in her heart at the loss that was surely soon to come, she felt something else too.

Hope.

She walked towards the stairs, and as she set foot on the first step, a heavy thudding noise sounded from the direction of the kitchen. She frowned-Dixon was still upstairs with her mother and could not have moved to the kitchen without first passing through the hallway. Surely Dixon would not have failed to notice her employer's daughter in a clinch by the front door, so there was no way it could be her currently crashing around in the kitchen. Margaret listened, waiting to see if the noise came again. It did, louder this time, and she realised it was not thudding at all, but a knock. Who could be knocking on the back door at this time of night?

She hurried in the darkness towards the kitchen, heart hammering against her ribs. As she walked towards the door, she picked up Dixon's rolling pin. She was sure any intruder would not do them the courtesy of knocking, so perhaps it was a little silly to arm herself in such a way.

Hesitantly, she edged the door open. Smoke hung thickly in the air outside, the streetlight doing little to illuminate whoever was there. Fear caught in her throat as she opened it wider, seeing a man standing with his face turned away from the door. She gripped the rolling pin tighter, though she kept it close to her side. But when the stranger turned to face her, she realised he was not a stranger at all.