AN: So thank you for the support! I really appreciate it and it makes me want to keep writing. I like to see what people think. So, I present chapter the sixth!
Margaret opened her eyes and glanced sideways, confused. She had been dreaming that she was in her old house in Helston, but John had been there, and they had been alone together. She relaxed instantly, however, when she noticed her black-haired husband, his face soft and beautiful, in the sunlight that slanted though their curtained windows. His hair was mussed and about his face, while his long eyelashes rested gently against his cheeks. He was such a handsome man, Margaret reflected, and as she moved to inspect her own face, she caught sight of his fine chest and arms, one still slung behind her back.
Carefully, as to not wake him, she moved out of bed and adjusted her hair in the mirror by the door. Her lips were swollen from kissing, and her cheeks held a rosy glow, as if announcing her marriage in the most private way. She was pleased with herself; she had not cried, or even gasped when she had been with him for the first time, and she had done her duty as a wife, finding, intriguingly, that she not only accepted him, but enjoyed their contact and indeed wanted more.
She found her nightgown on the floor and slipped it over her head, to protect her modesty, if nothing else and looked back to the bed where she found her husband smiling lazily at her. He beckoned her towards him, and once she was near the bed he rose up and pulled her into his arms. She squealed with delight as he peppered soft kisses along her arms and her neck, and she giggled when he abruptly changed tactics and decided to tickle her, laughing and giving her one of his blue-eyed looks, a new one; a playful one.
"Good morning, Mrs Thornton," he joked.
"I told you!" Margaret gasped, she was laughing so hard, "don't call me that!"
"Well then," he murmured, "Maggie." He stopped then, and that same dark look came over his eye as it had before.
"No!" Margaret cried, "John, we can't. We will miss our train!"
"Oh?" John looked as if he only just remembered their honeymoon, "that old thing! It should wait for us. Don't they know married people aren't to be rushed?"
"Yes, but even still," Margaret gave him a little kiss and untangled herself from him, "we should be up."
John groaned and flopped back into his pillows as Margaret stood and put on her travelling dress, simple to adjust on ones own and did not require a servant. Her wedding clothes were already packed, as were his, so all was left was to have breakfast, but on her hat, and depart.
She saw John stand from the corner of her eye, and he too began to reluctantly dress for their journey. In a few minutes he was prepared and his hair (barely,) cooperating, was combed and neatly placed as it always was. Well, not always, Margaret thought to herself with a smile.
Their breakfast was had quickly, as, like Margaret predicted, they were going to be late, and the couple dashed out the house hand-in-hand, for the station. They arrived just in time, and boarded into an empty cubicle, the shudders still pulled down from the night before. They were both a little flustered from the hasty departure, and when they regained their breath Margaret looked hopelessly at her husband.
His face was red and he wore a wide eyed look of perplexion Margaret decided she thought was the cutest thing she had ever seen. When she caught his eye she sighed loudly, letting her bottom lip go in the process, a sign of their ordeal, and without being one wit able to stop it, they both burst out laughing. They could not stop, and it was not only their close brush that had them relieved. It was everything; the mill, their relationship, the feeling of finally being free, of being hopelessly and irrevocably in love.
John stood and opened the shutters to the countryside then, turning to sit beside her. He gathered her in his arms and she closed her eyes against his warmth. They did not speak, for they did not have to, and fell asleep once more, only be woken in London, when another couple, stern old birds, clad in the most depressing shades of grey and black, boarded opposite them. Margaret hastily adjusted her position, but not before the old woman caught sight of John hand around Margaret's waist. She gave a disapproving sniff at this, and her husband gave a severe look to John, who, for the life of him, did not seem to notice or care. Margaret had never imagined him such a rogue, her severe, polite husband who was only his true self with her, and her alone.
They were taking the scenic route across England, leaving from Dover instead of Liverpool, so, in lieu of this important fact, Margaret attempted to venture into conversation with the elderly couple.
"You are going south as well?" she asked.
The old woman sniffed and nodded. "Yes," she answered.
"Lovely," Margaret replied. "Any reason? If I may be so bold."
"No, you may not as you ask," the woman snapped, "for I am sure you are a sinful girl."
"Pardon?" John said for Margaret, giving the old biddy a hard look.
"Well," she replied, clearly flustered from John's question, "You are not married, are you?"
"Yes," John replied in a measured voice. "We were yesterday."
"Well then, young man," she spoke down to John in a way that set Margaret's teeth on edge, "you must learn to be proper. Tis not polite for other passengers to witness such wonton expressions of—," she sniffed again, referring to the way John held one arm around Margaret's shoulder, "affection."
"Madam," John made his voice bland and respectful, "I apologize." He took his arm out from behind Margaret, but gave her a devilish little wink as he did.
Needless to say, they spent the rest of their time with the old couple, who got off somewhere near Buckinghamshire, like two chastised school children, and when she finally moved her mouldy self off the train, alone with her silent husband, the couple almost breathed a sigh of relief.
Soon, though, another couple joined them, this time two young people, a blond girl with dimples and a man with light sandy locks.
"Dover too then eh?" The man said, betraying his Jordie accent.
John and Margaret smiled and Margaret noticed the gold rings on the couple's fingers.
"Married too?" Margaret enquired polity to the girl.
"Yes, only just this morning," she replied in a fluttery, enthusiastic voice, "and you?"
"Yesterday," Margaret nodded.
"So where are you all going after Dover?" the man asked, glancing between his wife and John.
"Cadiz," John replied, "in Spain." To this the girl gave a delighted yelp of joy.
"Us too, me and Roddy," she said, "but I'm forgetting myself. "I am Maude, and this is Roderick, pleasure to meet you." She and her husband took their new companions hands warmly and they settled back into their places.
"Where are you travelling from?" Roderick asked.
"Milton," John replied.
"Oh nice," Roderick nodded, "Me and the missus are from Whitley Bay." Margaret had not a clue where that was, but she smiled and tried to look knowledgeable. There was a lull in conversation then, and the two couples sank into companionable silence, each man sitting close to his respective wife, but it turned out that the new couple were rather chatty, and, to their surprise, intensely funny, so that when they parted ways at the station Margaret was sad to see them go. They had given the Thornton's their address in Spain hoping that they would call, and Margaret could tell that John was tempted.
"Well look at that, John," she said as they saw the couple swallowed by the bustling crowd, "I believe we have made our first friends as a married pair."
"Yes," John looked down at her, taking their bags in hand, "I do hope we see them again. Who knows what trouble we could get ourselves in?"
AN: Duh, duh, Dunhhh! Lol, ok. R&R! Shenanigans to come!