As the weeks passed, Fanny did ail quite prettily, and no less predictably, and Isabel patiently sat and listened to her younger sister's many lamentations. There were complaints of a delicate stomach, or great fatigue, and swollen ankles (which Isabel thought quite unlikely, at a little less than four months with child). Oh! did Fanny have a perpetual headache, and she was so utterly depleted of all energy, that she could not even countenance the carriage ride to Marlborough Mills, for the foolish girl could barely muster the energy to dress, let alone withstand the jostling of the carriage.

Bound to her room as Fanny professed to be, it naturally followed that Mrs Thornton and Isabel were obliged to travel to Hayleigh to pay their visits. The necessary frequency of travelling in the carriage - with the new driver, Layton - was - to Mrs Thornton - entirely vexatious. She thought the man officious in his handing of Isabel in and out of the carriage, and she did not like the way he always thought to ask Isabel if the ride has been too rough for her, in her delicate condition. Attentive and diligent in one's duty, some may have called it, but Mrs Thornton was of a suspicious nature, and thought Layton's attentiveness not borne of some honest pride in seeing a job well done, but of some manly stirring of admiration for his young Mistress.

Mrs Thornton frowned as she watched her daughter-in-law on the journey to Hayleigh, but she saw no sign that Isabel suspected any improper sentiment on the part of Layton. And the man had neither said, nor done, anything of which she could complain to her son, so she was forced to reconcile herself to waiting for some small crime, of which she could accuse him. It was then, with a cool, assessing eye, that Mrs Thornton watched Layton offer up his hand, to help Isabel down from the carriage, upon their arrival at Hayleigh. And ah! he smiled. He had the gall to quirk his mistress a fleeting smile, and just as their hands met! It did not signify that the man wore gloves; he ought not to smile at his mistress, and certainly not when holding her hand!

'Thank you, Layton,' replied Isabel, indifferently, and Mrs Thornton's temper was piqued, by how very oblivious her daughter-in-law seemed to be. Now that gloved hand was offered to the matriarch, and it was coolly took. She did not notice that he addressed her with the same slight smile - she had not looked for it, and so failed to see it - and merely alighted from the carriage, before ordering him to wait at the rear of the house.

'Is something wrong, Mother?' asked Isabel, sensing that Mrs Thornton was in ill-humour. And not wanting to startle Isabel (for surely, she would be aggrieved to know that the driver had a penchant for her) Mrs Thornton only grunted, and made some excuse of finding Fanny's endless maladies quite trying.

Indeed, they did prove to be, and after an hour of visiting, Isabel felt afflicted herself, with such a severe headache, that she had to beg her mother to leave. Fanny appeared vexed that Isabel should encroach upon her domain as invalid, and was jealous of her mother's solicitude of Isabel. She did not reason, of course, that Mrs Thornton was anxious for her daughter-in-law, simply because she had never complained of any previous malady, and her sudden headache was therefore all the more alarming. Layton was called to bring the carriage to the front of the house, and Isabel arose from the sofa, but as she stood, a wave of dizziness overtook her, and were it not for Mrs Thornton's strong embrace, it was quiet likely that she would have fallen to the floor.

Grudgingly, Mrs Thornton bid Layton to the drawing room, to carry Isabel down to the carriage, and as he lifted her into his arms, the matriarch's eyes narrowed.

'Mistress Isabel?' called Layton, softly, as he walked towards the carriage. 'Can you hear me, Mistress?' Layton had preceded Mrs Thornton from the house, and so it was that when she reached the carriage, she found Layton within; her son's wife still within his arms.

'What are you doing?' demanded she, bristling with indignation. 'Put down my daughter!'

'I was only seeing if she was awake, Mrs Thornton.'

'Well, is she?'

'Yes, Mrs Thornton, but she doesn't seem well.'

'Well drive us back to the mill, then, and quick!' urged Mrs Thornton, as she pulled Isabel's small form against her, and held her to her body, against the jostling carriage.

At Marlborough Mills, Layton jumped from the carriage and hastily opened the door, reaching inside for Isabel, but he was quickly pushed back by Mrs Thornton.

'My son; fetch my son!' For she did not wish for Layton to manhandle her daughter again. Now come Mr Thornton, striding briskly from the mill, his cheeks dark and his brow furrowed.

'Isabel,' said he, climbing directly inside the carriage.

'I am well, John, but can you carry me up to our room?'

'Yes, love, and I'll send Layton for Dr Donaldson. Layton!' called he, but Layton did linger about the door.

'I heard you, Master. I'll go right away.'

'Come, then, love.' And Mr Thornton swept Isabel into his arms, and carried her across the yard, as concerned mill hands look on; anxious for the popular young Mistress.

He took her into their room, and laid her upon the bed, before rolling Isabel onto her side and unbuttoning her dress. 'You would be more comfortable in your nightgown, love?' Isabel nodded, and let her husband undress her, before curling up behind her on the bed, and holding her tightly to his chest, as he whispered soothing, tender words.

'Don't worry yourself, John,' said Isabel. 'I was only a little faint. I probably am low in iron.'

'In iron?'

'Yes, red meats and green vegetables - your mother's creamed spinach, perhaps?'

'You take it lightly, Izzy. I'll not take it lately, but wait to see what Dr Donaldson says.'

'You will stay here, John?'

'Ay, I'll stay beside you until Donaldson arrives, and then Mother can sit with you whilst he looks you over. Rest now, love,' urged he, pressing a kiss to Isabel's temple. And although he kept his voice calm and even, he was quite afeared for his wife and unborn child, for his Isabel was usually so robust in body, that he thought she must be truly ill, if she had been overcome by such a faint.

Dr Donaldson came, bringing an anxious Mrs Thornton with him. Mr Thornton immediately lifted himself from Isabel's side, upon hearing the approaching footsteps, and was found standing beside his sleeping wife; quite loath to leave her.

'John?' asked Mrs Thornton, looking at Isabel's sanguine form which did not rise, nor stir, upon their hasty arrival.

'She sleeps, Mother.'

'And she had a spell of dizziness, you say?' asked Dr Donaldson, looking directly to the grim-faced matriarch.

'Yes. She complained of a headache and begged to return home - which is unusual for Isabel - and when she rose to leave she was dazed and then her legs gave out. Our driver had to carry her into the carriage, and although she was awake, she was very placid, and Isabel is -' Here, the eyes narrowed in irritation, before she said, low, 'pungent.'

'Yes, I know of the younger Mrs Thornton's character,' intoned Dr Donaldson, with no small amount of admiration.

'Before she slept, Isabel proposed she was deficient in iron, doctor?' asked Mr Thornton, cautiously. He held himself tense, his jaw set, as he watched the family doctor open up his medical bag. A not-infrequent visitor to the house (thanks to Fanny's hypochondria), Dr Donaldson knew the dark cheeks and balled fists of Mr Thornton masked a fitful trembling of passion, and for the anxious husband's sake, he bid him from the room.

'I shall examine her, and we shall see. Your mother will remain with me.' Mr Thornton hung his head, and made towards to door.

'I shall wait outside.'

'I may be some time, Mr Thornton.'

'I shall wait, nonetheless.'

Dr Donaldson looked Isabel over - her having awoke as soon as her husband's soothing presence left the room - and he could find nothing to concern him, other than a mild shortness of breath. He thought she very well might suffer from anaemia, for she had been dizzy and felt a headache, and the only symptoms she had ever suffered from in her delicate condition, had been that of tiredness.

'I think you are perhaps a little pale,' mused Dr Donaldson, looking critically at Isabel.

'Pale?' asked Mrs Thornton.

'Yes; not her skin tone, but her complexion. It is all white and olive; I see no hint of pink.'

'Yes,' agreed Mrs Thornton, frowning, for her daughter-in-law certainly did not have the rosy flush about her cheeks, which had been found only an hour before, upon Fanny's.

'So an iron deficiency, then - and easily remedied,' smiled Isabel. 'Might you call John in, Mother? I shouldn't wish him to fret over such a trifle.' And just as Mr Thornton entered the room, did he hear Dr Donaldson admonish, -

'A trifle! It is no trifle, Mrs Thornton. You are with child and cannot be too cautious. If you had fallen faint upon the stairs, or had no one about to catch you - why! you and the babe could have come to great harm.'

'Yes, I do not deny it, but still, it is easily remedied. That is what I meant when I said it was a trifle.' But Mr Thornton heard only the suggestion that his wife might have fainted upon the staircase, and he instantly bristled, that Isabel would take her health so lightly, when he himself was in a fit of anxiety over wife and child.

'You are to stay in bed,' declared Mr Thornton, imperiously.

'Yes, certainly I will today, John,' agreed Isabel, quite readily.

'For the rest of the week! - longer, if you should still be unwell. I shan't risk you falling down.'

'Come now, Mr Thornton,' exclaimed Dr Donaldson, upon seeing Isabel's eyes widen with horror. 'A day in bed, a modified diet and Mrs Thornton may very well be able to take up a light workload. Perhaps sitting in the drawing room and seeing to some needlework.

'If only she would!' scoffed Mr Thornton, beneath his breath. And of course, the remark - made to himself, and not to others, but heard, nonetheless - did prick Isabel's pride, for she felt she was lacking as a wife, and did not meet the standards her husband demanded of her.

'You might carry Isabel downstairs tomorrow - if she is feeling better. We may keep company together in the drawing room,' put in Mrs Thornton, for although she was loath to see her son's wife move about and risk the babe, she knew that she herself, could never be content with a prolonged banishment of bedrest.

'Yes, I shall do that for a day or two. Perhaps Margaret will pay me a visit.'

'Yes!' agree Mr Thornton, his expression softening, now that he saw he would not be challenged by his wilful wife. 'I shall send a note round requesting that she visit to-morrow, if you should like?'

'Yes, John.' And with everyone in agreement, Mr Thornton moved to see Dr Donaldson out.

'Thornton,' said the doctor, frowning, 'I don't wish to sound impertinent, but when I examined your wife after the riot, I thought her quite lean.'

'Yes?' said Mr Thornton, curtly, for he did not like the thought that the doctor had looked at her figure and made a judgement upon it, let alone that he should remember such a sight.

'Well, it is only that in examining her now, I thought she looked as though she had lost some weight; certainly, her ribs and spine; I thought them more pronounced.' Mr Thornton only nodded, for he, too, had noticed his wife had grown quite slender.

'Yes; she is slight.'

'Ay, it is no doubt her natural way. But women tend to gain a little weight all about their body when they are with child, and her stomach is by no means small for a woman of five months along.'

'What are you implying?' demanded Mr Thornton, now folding his arms across his body in impatience.

'Does Mrs Thornton eat well? I am concerned that she is underweight.'

'The babe -'

'I think the babe quite well; as I said, she grows nicely in the stomach - very nicely indeed, but your wife; she grows thin.'

'I think,' replied Mr Thornton, cautiously, as he pressed a finger to his lips, 'that eating much at any one time makes Isabel feel a little unwell. She has not complained of it, but I have noticed she eats only a little at meal times, but quite relishes tea, and always takes some small snack where she otherwise would not have eaten between meals.'

'Ah! Yes, that is not uncommon, but you must tempt her appetite. You cannot be too solicitous of a lady's health when she is with child. If she needs coddling, you must coddle her, and the independent, healthy wives all the more, for they bear their aliments with too great an equanimity, and don't take such good care of themselves.'

'As opposed to my sister?' Dr Donaldson smiled wryly.

'Ay! If Mrs Watson should fall ill, I am certain she would let me know immediately, and with a confirmed diagnosis to boot! It makes my job quite easy. But tempt your wife with food.'

'What sort of food?' asked Mr Thornton. 'Some small dainties?'

'Yes; something to entice her, and plenty of fresh fruit; ladies do always love fresh fruit.'

It was the following day - after receiving Mr Thornton's note - that Margaret paid her call at Marlborough Mills. In the two months following Isabel's announcement that she was with child, Margaret had not been blessed with her own good news, and although she was not envious of her friend - for she had not the selfish heart which could begrudge anyone anything - she did often find herself - when in the presence of her friend - thinking how very fortunate Isabel was, and with no small amount of impatience, as she waited her own good fortune.

Upon receiving Mr Thornton's note, however, Margaret had quite lost all thought of her own wonts and wishes, and instead felt a great anxiety for her friend, which caused her to miss her lesson with the young Bouchers, and set out for Marlborough Mills, immediately that morning.

'Isabel,' said she, taking up her friend's hands and giving them a squeeze. She frowned, for Isabel had about her a yellowish-pallor. 'I see you are unwell.'

'Not unwell, but I must eat more iron and sit about the drawing room for a few days.'

'Days?' asked Margaret, shrewdly. 'I think it unlikely that Mr Thornton shall release you from your confinement after only a few days.'

'Yes,' sighed Isabel, for she did not enjoy keeping company with Mrs Thornton all day, and longed for the sanctuary of her infirmary.

'You do not like being waited on?' asked Margaret, upon seeing a look of disappointed longing cloud Isabel's countenance.

'Waited on!' laughed she. 'John will not even let me walk down the stairs. He carried me here this morning, and set me down upon this sofa, and I have not moved, but to fidget one foot! Indeed,' continued Isabel, blushing, 'he has left me this bell with which to call a maid, and has bid me to have him sent for when I should require the water closet, for of course, it is upstairs!'

'Oh!' flushed Margaret, with a frown, for although she quite love d her Dr Lyndhurst, and he was an attentive and loving husband, with whom she willingly shared much intimacy, she fairly paled at the thought of him assisting her in even her journey to the water closet. 'And where is Mrs Thornton?' asked Margaret, desirous to change the topic of conversation, to one which would allow her face to cool.

'I believe she is writing her letters in her room, so that we might speak in private.'

'Oh! I did not tell you,' said Margaret, 'but Cousin Edith wrote to me a few days ago, and said that her brother-in-law, Henry Lennox, is to come to Milton. He has befriended a London politician, who has an interest in the manufactories, and he comes north to speak with the Masters, so Henry is to come with him.'

'Ah! Mr Colthurst?' asked Isabel, for she had read the gentleman's name in that book, and had therefore not been entirely surprised when a business associate had recommended Mr Thornton to him.

'Yes, the very one. Did you know it?' asked Margaret, perplexed.

'John had been writing to Mr Colthurst, and I did know he was to come to Milton in a month or two, but I had no idea that Henry Lennox would come, too.'

'Yes,' flushed Margaret, shifting awkwardly upon her chair. 'I must admit to being a little anxious. He was not able to come to my wedding - his case-load would not permit it - and so we have not met since -' And here, Margaret stopped in mid-career, for she had not seen, nor spoken with Henry Lennox, since that fateful day he arrived in Helstone - uninvited - and proposed marriage. 'Since we moved to Milton.' Of course, Isabel knew all about Mr Lennox's impromptu visit to Helstone, although she had not been told of it, and so she smiled encouragingly at her friend.

'Did he have a fondness for you, Margaret?' And she blushed most becomingly in reply. 'Does Dr Lyndhurst know of it?'

'Oh, no!' rushed Margaret, now shaking her head. 'And it was now quite some time ago. But as family, I shall not be able to avoid his company when he arrives in Milton, and Papa will wish to have him to tea, and Christopher shan't know, and oh! I don't know what I shall do.'

'Well, I think you ought to tell him. I'd not keep such a thing from John. He would feel betrayed, and might suspect some guilt on my part, if I were to keep such a thing a secret.' This last was heard by Mrs Thornton, who had just finished seeing to her letters, and now glided into the room with a haughty jut of her chin - in defiance of the former-parson's daughter - but her suspicions were aroused by her daughter's words, and she looked assessingly at Isabel. She was alarmed on hearing such words as "betrayed" and "guilt" and "secret", and all spoken with reference to her son! Now recalling Layton's solicitous behaviour words Isabel, Mrs Thornton found herself questioning the fellow's character.

'If Mrs Lyndhurst will stay another quarter of an hour, I will post my letters?' came her prim greeting. Margaret readily agreed, and the proud erect figure swept by, as Isabel winced; not quite understanding her mother's censure.

'She is displeased with me; she cannot forgive me for keeping up the infirmary, and is probably now quite pleased that I am bound to the house. Indeed,' whispered Isabel, in jest, 'if she could slip something into my tea to make me only a little sickly, I think she very well might, if it would only keep me from my work.'

'Oh! That is quite wicked!' gasped Margaret.

'Yes, it is,' agreed Isabel; a small hand now placed to her growing stomach. 'I have here a baby Thornton, and if it is a boy! Woe is me, Margaret. She can be suffocating in her love for one John Thornton, but oh! if there were two!' And Margaret laughed heartily, gladdened that her family was so temperate in its love for one another.

Now came that awkward moment, when Isabel felt she could no longer wait to go upstairs, and with a grimace and returning blush from Margaret, Isabel rang the bell, to have her husband sent for, so that he might help her up the stairs. He did not come, and which each passing minute, Isabel grew more anxious, until she could not quite sit still upon the sofa.

'Cannot you walk if I should follow behind you?' suggested Margaret, sensing that her friend was in growing distress.