#Mr Bell

[arthursguns]

Micah Bell

[smolgreybunny]

I just watched the BBC's North and South miniseries again last night, and I have a bone to pick about Mr. Bell. I really liked his character, he was interesting and witty, and unlike any other character in the series I think. I liked the way he played devil's advocate and got in everyone's business, it was fun. I would probably have issue with him as a person, but I loved him as a character.

EXCEPT: having watched the series before, I knew that toward the end he was going to imply having feelings for Margaret, and say he considered proposing to her once upon a time (specifically planning to wait until after her parents' death, which adds an extra level of 😳😖). Knowing that just made him feel vaguely icky and creepy through the whole series. 🤢

And then in scrolling through the tag, @thatscarletflycatcher reminded me that he never even remotely hinted at that in the book! He was just an eccentric dude who cared for his goddaughter in a very normal fatherly way! WHY did the miniseries do that??

[lothiriel84]

For Richer, for Poorer

AU. Yet one more variation on the 'Margaret has no living relation who might take care of her after her father's death' scenario.

A North and South ficlet. John/Margaret.

Margaret was distantly aware of being spoken to – very softly and kindly, as one would with a child – yet she could not seem to make sense of the words addressed to her.  

Above all, she felt so very tired; worn in body and mind alike, as if aged well beyond her years in the space of a fortnight. She was all alone in the world now; all her relations, everyone she had ever cared for, they were with their Maker now.  

“It was Edith’s dearest wish, always,” Henry Lennox pleaded earnestly, clasping her trembling hand between his own. “And the solemn commitment I gave to your aunt as she lay on her deathbed.” 

Margaret shivered, as if Death itself had just walked past her, and swiftly snatched her hand away from Henry’s grasp.  

“No,” she heard herself speak in faltering tones, which sounded nothing like her own. “I know you mean well, Henry, but I – cannot.” 

“Margaret, my dear,” Mr Bell intervened, his voice and manners laced with heartfelt commiseration for her plight. “I won’t pretend to even remotely understand the magnitude of your loss. However, we must think of securing your future – Mr Lennox here is acting with your best interests in mind, and as your legal guardian it is my duty to strongly advise you in favour of accepting his application.” 

“Sorry to interrupt, Miss,” came Dixon’s familiar timbres, like a lifeline to reel Margaret out of troubled waters. “There’s Mr and Mrs Thornton come to see you – I told them now was not a good time, but they insisted I took the message to you.” 

“Show them in, Dixon,” she replied with sudden animation, braving the disapproval of both gentlemen at having their plans for her immediate future thus disrupted, and by a mere tradesman no less. “You see, Mr Bell, there is no need for me to marry Henry – I have friends here in Milton, they will assist me in finding a suitable situation.” 

“You would consider seeking employment rather than consenting to be my wife?” Henry seethed with indignation. “I cannot, I will not allow you to dishonour the memory of your aunt and cousin in so careless a manner.” 

“There shall be no need for Miss Hale to seek employment of any kind,” Mrs Thornton stated with a touch of asperity as she preceded her son into the room, her chin raised in that imperious manner Margaret was well enough acquainted with by now. “I gave my word to Mrs Hale that I would care for her daughter as if she were my own, and I intend to honour that promise.” 

In the general bewilderment that followed, Margaret was only aware of an overwhelming sense of relief and gratitude. The ghost of a smile, pale and quivering, touched her lips and then was gone, unnoticed by all save Mr Thornton – his eyes meeting hers for just a moment, before they each averted their gaze.  

“Very well,” Mr Bell conceded at length, albeit reluctantly. “If that is what Margaret wishes, she shall have her way – for now, at least.” 

Henry bowed very formally, then quit the room without so much as a farewell. Margaret leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and allowed herself to be fully consumed by her grief once more.  

.

“Does it ever get better?” The question slipped out without any conscious decision on her part; had there been any room left within herself for anything but her sorrow, she would have wished the words back the moment they left her lips.  

Mrs Thornton sighed, and put her embroidery work to one side. “In some ways, it does. Employment is the best medicine in such cases as these, Miss Hale. Besides, I had John and Fanny to think of �� grieving is a luxury a mother can seldom afford, and the circumstances of my husband’s passing made it even more imperative for me to work hard every moment of the day to provide for them.” 

“Your son and daughter do you credit, Mrs Thornton,” Margaret murmured with quiet conviction, fingers poised on her needlework; she knew she was doing a very poor job of it, her hands made clumsy by her fatigued mind and soul. “My mother, she also had a son, Frederick – he put himself in danger for her sake, and it was all my fault for encouraging it. He is lost to me now, and I have no reason – oh, if poor Papa could hear me now, he would scarcely know me for his daughter.” 

“There is always a reason,” Mrs Thornton corrected her, her faith immovable as mountains. “I know of your interest for the poor in Princeton – perhaps that is your calling in life, after all. And perhaps in time you might find a good man more suited to you; someone you might wish to marry, and bear his children besides.” 

A now familiar feeling of regret stirred in Margaret’s chest, buried deep amid her many grievances. “You are kind; children are a blessing, to be sure, yet one I will never know for myself. I have long made my peace with that,” she added, sensing that Mrs Thornton was about to argue the point.  

“Have faith, Miss Hale,” Mrs Thornton admonished her instead, picking up her work once more. “It is not for us to question God’s plans on us.” 

.

“Is it so very bad?” she dared to ask of Mr Thornton, once his mother and sister had announced their intention of retiring for the night. Mrs Thornton had looked as if she was about to protest the impropriety of Margaret lingering behind with her son without anyone to play chaperone, but in the end, she had merely shaken her head and wished them both a good night. 

“I’m afraid it is, Miss Hale,” Mr Thornton acknowledged with something akin to resignation. “Nothing short of a miracle could save the mill now. You need not worry for your future – I will see to it that you are taken care of, and Mr Bell will of course be happy to assist me in such an endeavour.” 

Margaret hesitated, wary of revealing the full extent of her prior indiscretion. In the end, her concern for his wellbeing won out over her natural reserve, and she pressed on regardless of how this might sink her even further in his opinion. “Mr Thornton, I beg you to understand it was never my intention to listen in on a private conversation between your mother and yourself; but if there truly is anything that could be done to prevent the shutting of the mill, I urge you to consider it.” 

Mr Thornton went perfectly still, the lines on his face hardening in one of his stern frowns. “Miss Hale, perhaps you are not aware of the exact terms of Mr Latimer’s business proposition; you have once accused me of thinking only in terms of buying and selling, but in truth, both my conscience and my honour prevent me from offering marriage to a young lady of good family for material considerations alone.” 

“Oh,” was all the response Margaret was capable of summoning. Somehow, in all the months she had spent as a guest in his home, it had not occurred to her that he would likely soon marry, as was only natural for a man of his age and position in life. “Miss Latimer is – quite accomplished, from what I have heard. She would make a very good wife, I think – better than most, I dare say.” 

“I am sure of that,” Mr Thornton conceded with a small, self-deprecating half-smile. “Just as I am sure you, Miss Hale, will understand my repugnance towards entering a marriage without the smallest hint affection on my part.” 

Margaret’s face fell, and she struggled to hold back her tears. “I am sorry,” she breathed at length, wishing she could open her heart to him, as he had once done with her. She knew she could not have accepted him back then, just as he would never again offer for her now that his affections were but a thing of the past; it still seemed cruel that those tender feelings had all been for nothing, and that they were destined to love past each other right from the beginning.  

“Do not be,” he told her, his voice and manner as kindly as he always was with her. “It is for the best. I count myself fortunate that I have no wife who is to suffer from my personal failures. I will see that Mother and Fanny are taken care of, of course – Mr Watson might offer for her yet, and if she was willing to have him before, I can see no objection to her marrying to secure her own future now.” 

“You are a good man, Mr Thornton,” Margaret smiled, somewhat wistfully, tucking her feelings away where they would not risk offending him. “I trust you will get your just reward someday.” 

.

Miss Thornton’s wedding was a much more subdued affair than the bride herself would have preferred it to be; still, she looked more radiant than ever in the bridal gown Mr Thornton had had made especially for the occasion, and perfectly happy in her choice of a husband.  

In all the whirlwind of preparations, Margaret’s mind had often drifted to Edith’s wedding, and it was with a heavy heart she now accepted Mr Thornton’s arm as they prepared to leave the church. In three days’ time, Mr Bell would come to collect her; she would leave Milton for good, never to be back again. 

“I beg your pardon, Miss Hale,” Mr Thornton excused himself, as if overcome with some strong emotion. “My mother will be glad to see you home, I am sure.” 

“Of course,” she nodded, head bowed in something akin to despair. If only she had not been seen out with Fred that evening – but no, she could not blame the loss of his regard on that incident alone; the harsh manner of her rejection surely had seen to it, and besides, she did not have a penny to her name that might aid him in his current circumstances.  

“Thank God Fanny is taken care of,” she heard him whisper to himself, even as she tore herself from his side. 

.

“An express came for you from London this morning, Miss Hale,” Mrs Thornton informed her once the wedding breakfast was over, and the new Mrs Watson finally packed into the carriage that would take her and her husband to their wedding trip. “It is from Mr Lennox.” 

“Henry can have nothing to say to me which has not been said already,” Margaret stated mutinously, and made no move to open the letter. “I could not accept him before, and I most certainly will not accept him now.” 

“Surely you must see that your chances of happiness with him would be as fair as with any other man,” Mr Thornton pointed out, as calm and collected as he ever was. “And his prospects are good, you said so yourself.” 

“What are his prospects to me?” Margaret snapped, pushed at last past the limit of her endurance. “If you think material considerations would sway my decision on such matters, then you do not know me at all, Mr Thornton.” 

“I do beg your pardon,” he seemed to deflate all at once, his hand coming to rub tiredly across his face. “It has been a tiresome day, and there is still more paperwork that needs to be seen to before Mr Bell comes to inspect his properties.” 

“Miss Hale has been a great help with the household ledgers, John,” Mrs Thornton cut in, much to everyone's amazement. “She’s very sharp with numbers, I will give her that – perhaps she might be willing to assist you, if it is not too much trouble?” 

“Of course,” Margaret agreed, almost despite herself. “If Mr Thornton does not mind my meddling in his personal business, that is?” 

“It will not be my business for much longer,” Mr Thornton replied slowly, his brow furrowed in no small confusion. His mother bore his piercing gaze with remarkable composure, and in the end, he gave a half-hearted shrug and turned towards Margaret. “Come, Miss Hale – Mr Bell will be pleased to know his goddaughter takes his financial matters much to her heart.” 

.

“We cannot marry,” Mr Thornton murmured despite everything, but Margaret would have none of it. After yet another lengthy period of silence, he spoke again. “I will not condemn you to heaven knows how many years of miserable poverty, Miss Hale; nor would Mr Bell consent to it, were I so foolish as to form such a reckless scheme upon your future.” 

“As of last week, I am of age,” Margaret protested, her hand still tucked safely in his. “Mr Bell has no say in anything I do, and Dixon might testify to it that I am not afraid of hard work.” 

“You know not what you speak of, Miss Hale –” 

“Margaret,” she corrected him, sweetly, and more delicious silence followed between them. “I will never consent to be parted from you again, John.” 

“Margaret,” he repeated after a time, his smile so sudden and so bright as to light the entire room. “My Margaret.” 

.

“Well,” Mr Bell shook his head somewhat perplexedly, looking at his goddaughter as if he were seeing her for the first time. “If your heart is set irrevocably on Mr Thornton, my dear, there is very little I can do to prevent this marriage from going ahead. However, I wish to make sure you understand the consequences of your wedding a failed manufacturer who might one day find himself unable to provide for you and your children.” 

“Mr Bell, let me assure you there is nothing I would not do to see to the comfort of my family,” Mr Thornton began with considerable hostility, relenting only when his betrothed stepped forward to rest a placating hand upon his shoulder.  

“I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing, Godfather,” Margaret addressed him with perfect serenity. “I will have you know I trust Mr Thornton completely, and I am prepared to seek employment for myself, should the need arise.” 

“You will do nothing of the sort,” Mr Thornton cut in, in a manner much reminiscent of his mother’s. “Already I have been offered a good position at Hamper’s; it will provide us with more than enough to live on, and keep my mother in the comfort owed to her age besides.” 

“Very well,” Mr Bell sighed. “Now, Mr Thornton, would you be so kind as to offer the use of your personal study – there’s a wedding settlement to discuss, and I would have the details of it set down at once so that I may send all the papers to my lawyer first thing in the morning.” 

Margaret frowned in no little confusion at so extraordinary a pronouncement. “Surely there is no need for a wedding settlement when all I have to my name fits neatly into the trunk I keep in my room?” 

“You would think so, would you not, Margaret dear?” Mr Bell smiled genially, signalling for a somewhat baffled Mr Thornton to lead the way upstairs. 

[specialagentlokitty]

Mr Bell x Student!reader - my support

So basically the reader got adhd and no of the teacher understand the reader adhd only mr bell does so if you got anything wrong you always go to see mr bell and you always getting into trouble and you always work out your lesson to go to mr bell office - Anon💜

You sighed as you listened to the teacher telling you off once again for getting all the answers on the worksheet wrong.

A few students snickered and they all watched you.

“Well, do you have any excuse for this?” She snapped at you.

“I thought it was something else…” you grumbled.

“This is math! You wrote the entire history of how Christmas originated!” She yelled.

“Well I know that now!” You huffed.

She shook her head and took your paper, tearing it in half, throwing it in the bin and she marched over, slamming another on the desk in front of you.

“Answer the MATH questions.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.” You warned.

“Well, if you can’t do some simple question it’s no wonder you have the worst grades I’ve seen.”

And that was the final straw for you, standing up, you just walked out of the room.

You never brought a bag with you anyways, so you headed to your locker to get your drink, then you just wondered the hallways.

You debated what to do, but you didn’t want to get into any more trouble, and there was only one teacher who was able to help you. So you headed down the hallway.

Walking into the PE office, you found Mr Bell wasn’t there, so you simply sat down at his desk and began to look through everything until you found the tennis ball.

You spent the whole lesson sat there throwing the ball at the wall and watching it while you waited.

“I can hear you throwing that down the hallway (Y/N).”

You stopped, looking to the doorway.

He set the bag down and closed the door, leaning against the wall as he looked at you.

“Again? Really?”

“I can’t help it, sometimes they just.. they piss me off you know..?”

“Don’t swear, but I do understand. But you realise you can’t just keep walking out of all these situations (Y/N).” He sighed.

“I don’t know what else to do sir, if I don’t I might make it worse.”

He sighed a little, walking over to take a seat on his desk, picking up the tennis ball to throw to you so you could play catch.

“Well, we had a plan in place didn’t we?”

“I’m supposed to use my hall pass and asked someone to contact you or Mrs Carter.”

“Exactly, that way I can come get you, or Mrs Carter can take you somewhere to wait for me.”

You huffed a little and threw the ball as hard as you could against the wall.

“It’s not fair!” You snapped.

“Woah, okay.” He said sternly.

He got up and walked over, pulling a chair over so he could sit in front of you.

“I know it isn’t fair, but you can’t react like this. You’ll get yourself into more trouble.”

You quietly nodded your head.

“Remember when you feel angry or frustrated, don’t lash out, redirect it. Take a walk, scribble on some paper, whatever works for you as long as it isn’t shouting, swearing or throwing things.”

“Sorry sir…”

He smiled at you and raised his hand.

You gave him a high five and he leant back in his chair.

“How about we try something different.”

“What?”

“Boxing, I’ll train you after school, you can use it to work everything out, how does that sound?”

You thought about this for a moment.

You knew a lot of people turned to exercise or something similar to help them, and so far not much else was working for you.

So you nodded your head.

“Okay, I’ll try it yeah.”

“Awesome, come on then, we’ll get an early lunch and see Mrs Carter before she starts a manhunt for you.”

You laughed a little and followed him out of the office, jogging slightly ahead of him as you tried to slap the fire exit signs and tried to touch the ceilings.

Mr Bell chuckled as he watched you, this was the side of you many teachers didn’t see.

They saw you as disruptive and a lost cause, but if they took the time, they’d realise you were basically just a ball of energy who needed more engagement and more to do.

You were simply bored, and you needed some way to redirect all this energy you had to hold back

[oautincorrectquotes]

Belle: I can't believe you assassinated the King!

Rumple: Well, 'assassinated' implies it was politically motivated. I killed him because he was a dick, so technically I murdered him

Belle: That's not better!

[goryhorroor]

in the silent era of horror, the word "horror" began to be used as a generic signation, and more often instead used was the words "weird" and "mythical and mysterious." this is a time when adaptions were so rapidly made like frankenstein and edgar allan poe's works dominated this era. horror as a genre wasn't specifically "created" or the word wasn't used until dracula in the 1930s.

[yudol-skorbi]

how's it going

[gleafer]

In my headcanon, Mr. Brown is a CrossFit crazy Disco Stu who cannot help himself when it comes to peacocking when Mr. Fell is around!

Drew this while listening to My Type by Saint Motel. Have a listen and giggle!

His face, though.

[florida3exclamationpoints]

[r-aindr0p]

That last chapter of Glorious masquerade was crazy.

[arthursguns]

Mr Bell

[chess-blackmyre]

OUAT Spot the Lie: Take Four

In order to keep things fair, the lie will be something that very much did NOT happen. There will be a few things I have to oversimplify for the sake of space (and comedy).

Have fun!

[lothiriel84]

That May Be Found, if Sought

AU. A slightly different take on the 'Margaret has no relation left in England who might take care of her after her father's death' scenario.

A North and South ficlet. Background John/Margaret.

It was over. There was nothing to be done but to own to his failure, and seek alternative arrangements for the comfort of those entrusted to his care. 

With a peculiar sense of finality, Mr Thornton closed the ledger and leant back against his chair. Thank God Fanny was taken care of; his only regret was that he would no longer be able to keep his mother in the same comfort that was owed to her age as well as in gratitude for the many hardships she had once had to endure for her children’s sake.  

As for Miss Hale, he would consult with Mr Bell as to what was best for her future. Surely Mrs Lennox was by now fully recovered from her recent confinement, and could be prevailed upon to welcome her cousin in her Corfu home; failing that, he knew Miss Hale had been corresponding with a relative of Mrs Hale’s residing in Cadiz, and it was to be hoped that this man, whoever he was, would think it his duty to provide for his young relation in her time of need. 

It had been a very peculiar kind of torment, living in such close quarters with the woman he loved for months on end, knowing full well nothing might ever come out of it. Much to his secret shame, he remembered doing his utmost to talk his mother out of the idea, only to discover her unmovably determined to abide by the word she had given to a dying woman, and see to Mrs Hale’s orphaned daughter despite her own strong reservations against the young lady in question.  

And so it was that Miss Hale had come to live with them at Marlborough House, like a ghostly Eurydice perpetually lurking at the periphery of Mr Thornton’s vision. He would not, could not look back at her; he loved her still, desperately so, and she was just as unattainable to him as on that day in the Crampton parlour, when she had let him know in no uncertain terms that she had always disliked him. It would never do for him to betray the full extent of his lingering affection; she was grieving, and a guest in his home – he was determined that she should never find out about his daily struggle with his own emotions, entirely inappropriate as they were. 

It had been exhausting, even more so than his losing battle to save the mill, and he had thought at times he might be driven insane with longing and despair. He had fought with all his might, against his own heart as much as the unmerciful numbers stacked in his ledger, and had ultimately failed on both counts.  

He would soon be out of business, and forced to send Miss Hale away, never to see her again. At his weakest, he had thought it preferable to the pain of being daily reminded of his unrequited feelings, of having to constantly check himself in her presence; now he knew there would be no greater punishment for him but to relinquish his role as Miss Hale’s protector, however unwilling taken upon himself at the outset.  

It did not matter. It was out of his hands now, and that was a strange kind of relief, in some backward sort of way. He ought to be grateful to Miss Hale for refusing his offer of marriage, all those months prior; it meant he was now spared from the indignity of having failed a beloved wife as well as his dear mother, and Miss Hale never needed to know the indignity of finding herself tied to a husband so far below her in all essentials.  

He would write to Mr Bell imminently, see to it that Miss Hale was taken care of. 

If only he weren’t so unspeakably tired. 

Finally giving in to the bone-deep weariness of body and mind alike, Mr Thornton laid his head on his arms, and slept. 

.

Margaret knew instinctually that something was very wrong. Mrs Thornton was not in the habit of showing her emotions any more than Mr Thornton did, yet even her proud, haughty demeanour could not conceal the depth of her concerns on account of her son.  

“Is it about the mill?” she ventured one evening as they were sitting in silence, both of them intent on their sewing. “I know I have no right to ask – indeed, you must think me most impertinent – I only wish to make myself useful, if at all possible.” 

Mrs Thornton regarded her for a long moment, though not unkindly. “I thank you, Miss Hale, but I fear there is nothing you or I could do that would serve. As it is, my son is already looking for another situation, and I have no doubt he will see to it that you are safely delivered in the care of your relations abroad.”  

For the first time since she had come to live in this house, Margaret could see right through the other woman’s stern facade, and her heart clenched in sympathy at the thought of all the hard times Mrs Thornton had had no choice but to endure. “I thank him, but I have no wish to quit Milton at present. I shall write to Mr Bell to make the necessary arrangements – he has ensured me time at time again that he would gladly assist me for my poor Papa’s sake, and I feel sure dear old Dixon would never think of deserting me in my hour of need.” 

The truth was, she had been too wrapped up in her grief at the time to oppose any plan that had been put in place for her future; Mrs Thornton, on her part, had assured her with some asperity that this had been her late mother’s wish, and that she hoped she knew better than to shrink away from her duty, however unpleasant.  

Margaret had not given much thought to the practicalities of living under the same roof with the man she had once bitterly rejected, and whose regard was now irretrievably lost to her. Once the initial outbreak of her grief had begun to settle into something more manageable, she had discovered just how painful his indifference could be at such close quarters, and lamented the loss of his good opinion nearly as deeply as she mourned that of her beloved parents.  

Oh, he was unflinchingly polite, and would invariably make sure her every need was met; but he would not look at her, as if ashamed of the foolish passions he had once harboured for her. Many a time she had wished herself as far away from here as could be, but now she did not think she could bear the prospect of being forever parted from him.  

“With your permission, I will go and write to Mr Bell directly,” she offered, scarcely waiting for Mrs Thornton’s acknowledging nod to slip out of the parlour and head upstairs.  

As she walked down the passageway leading to her chamber, she noticed the light filtering through the door of Mr Thornton’s study; she paused, listening for any sign of activity inside, her hand reaching for the doorknob almost of its own accord. 

.

A floorboard creaked under her step, and Mrs Thornton held her breath, dreading nothing more than discovery at such a time as this. Miss Hale, however, continued in perfect ignorance of her presence, intent on draping her own shawl around John’s shoulders – sprawled as he was across his desk, and fast asleep.  

“Would that I could do anything to spare you from this misfortune,” she heard the young woman whisper as if in prayer, and watched on in stunned amazement as the bold thing tenderly pressed her lips to the top of her son’s head.  

It had taken several months for Mrs Thornton to finally warm up to Miss Hale; she would now privately admit to misjudging the girl’s character at the outset, and had lately come to a begrudging sort of respect for her many qualities – all of that in spite of her lingering resentment for the pain she had once chosen to inflict upon her son.   

When all was said and done, Miss Hale was as loyal as they came, and had given proof of uncommon inner strength for a southern lass. Proud she might be, and far too strong-minded for her own good; but if her time in Milton had taught the girl anything, it was to do away with her many prejudices, so much as to make Mrs Thornton reconsider her own in turn. 

It had not been long into Miss Hale’s residence at Marlborough House that Mrs Thornton had begun to doubt all the aspersions that had been cast upon the girl’s character and morals. It had struck her then, that there could very well be a perfectly innocent explanation for the events at Outwood Station, and wondered that her son had not considered it, so taken with the girl as he clearly still was.  

Never had she more regretted the promise Mrs Hale had obtained from her, God rest her poor soul, than upon seeing her son retract into himself day after day, haunted by Miss Hale’s very presence in his home. Not once had it occurred to her that the girl might have changed her mind after all, now of all times as the mill had failed, and John’s prospects were irretrievably ruined in the eyes of society. 

As she quietly shut the door behind her, she marvelled at the caring look which had been plain to see on Miss Hale’s face, and it was with some considerable regret that she at last reached the conclusion that it would all be for nothing. Honourable man that he was, John would not offer for the girl again in his reduced circumstances, and Miss Hale could not remain indefinitely in Milton without the protection of either a husband or some family relation.  

The strikers ought to be happy now, she pondered bitterly. Her son had lost everything he had strived so hard for, and her heart sank at the thought of him having to pick himself up from the bottom once more, wondering how he would ever find the strength to do so this time. 

.

Mr Bell took a delicate sip of his tea, unobtrusively observing the mistress of the house as she instructed the servants to have their second-best guest room readied for the night. He could not say he was particularly fond of Mrs Thorntons’s authoritarian manner, nor of the sharpness of her tongue, but it so happened that she was a hardheaded woman and entirely devoted to her son, and he had come here prepared to trust her judgement on so delicate an issue as the one he had been called upon to settle. 

“I will be entirely frank with you, Mrs Thornton – I had been hoping the matter would sort itself out, so to speak, and I’m disappointed in the young people’s lack of initiative when it comes to our current predicament.” 

He did not squirm under her withering stare, but it was a near thing. “I expect this is the reason why you so readily agreed to the scheme, rather than making any real effort towards procuring a suitable establishment for your goddaughter in Oxford. I ought to have seen it at the time, though I must confess I did not think of it.” 

“Can you blame me for wishing to see the child more permanently settled, before I am made to remove myself entirely from the equation? My doctor assures me it is a mere matter of weeks now – and although Margaret is to be my heiress, it would have eased my mind to leave her in the care of an honourable man, such as I know Mr Thornton to be.” 

Mrs Thornton shook her head, and it struck him how changed she was from the last time he had seen her – more careworn, the weight of her son’s failure bearing down quite heavily upon her. “She would not have him, before, and he will not ask her again now that he is forced to give up his business. Had there been more time, perhaps – but surely you must see how Miss Hale is to benefit from the circumstances, and I hope I am not so bitter as to wish a future of poverty and drudgery on the girl, however mistaken I may have been on her character at the beginning of our acquaintance.” 

Placing the teacup back on its delicate saucer Mr Bell steepled his fingers under his chin, and when he spoke again, it was with a kind of slow deliberation. “Mrs Thornton, I have here in my pocket two letters – one is from your son, begging me to take Margaret under my care and see to it that every effort is made towards ensuring her wellbeing; the other is from my affectionate goddaughter, expressing her fondest wish to remain in Milton at present, as well as appealing to my generosity for anything that might be done to alleviate Mr Thornton’s present circumstances. And here I stand, holding their future happiness in the palm of my hand – I have the power to tip the scales one way or the other, though I am loath to use it without receiving confirmation as to whether the young people’s inclination lie in that same direction.” 

The ghost of a smirk touched Mrs Thornton’s lips, and then was gone. “You need not have wasted your time so. It is painfully obvious to anyone but Miss Hale herself that my son worships the very ground the girl walks on; as for Miss Hale, I fear she has got it into her head that John will no longer have her, and I would have long talked her out of this misapprehension, had it not been for the precarious state the mill was finding itself in.” 

Mr Bell sat back more comfortably in his armchair, quietly considering his options. “It is settled, then,” he announced with studied geniality, narrowing his eyes in expectation of the lady’s reaction. “I shall make the bulk of my fortune over to Miss Hale, and that includes all my Milton properties. I trust the dear girl will know how to make good use of her inheritance, and that you shall no longer need to worry about your future, Mrs Thornton.” 

“You must know my son has never taken kindly to charity, Mr Bell,” came Mrs Thornton’s pointed objection, which he all but dismissed with an airy wave of his hand. 

“I have every faith in my goddaughter’s powers of persuasion,” he stated, and made to take his leave for the time being. 

.

Higgins’ head shot up, and he eyed the Master with considerable interest. “The mill, you say? And the house, too?” 

“Yes,” Mr Thornton nodded, his gaze fixed on the machinery sitting ominously still all around them. “She’s a great heiress now, Higgins. I expect she shall have the mill up and running in no time at all – that list of hands you presented me with, you’d better give it to her, for I know she’ll not rest until she has given back work to the last one of them.” 

“What about you, then, Master?” Higgins prompted him, forgoing any attempt at subtlety. “What are you to do now?” 

“I shall remove from Marlborough House presently,” Thornton replied quite firmly, his mouth set in a grim line. “I am looking into a suitable situation for my mother, and in the meantime, I trust Miss Hale will be so kind as to let her remain in the house until satisfactory arrangements can be made.” 

Silence stretched on between them, with Higgins’ brains working furiously on the issue at hand. He knew well enough the Master wouldn’t take kindly on any interference on his part, but he was too fond of Miss Margaret to let matters stand as they were.  

“Why don’t you ask her again?” he spoke somewhat bluntly, braving Mr Thornton’s ensuing glare with perfect serenity. “Or do you think it an accident that the lass never asked to be shipped off to her brother in Cadiz?” 

“Her what now?” the Master nearly choked on the words, unobtrusively leaning back against one of the looms for support.  

“Him that came over before Mrs Hale died,” Higgins clarified, and had to make a conscious effort to suppress a smile as he spotted a familiar figure approaching with a quick, determined step. “You may ask Miss Margaret there, I’m sure she’ll not mind giving you all the details now that her brother is safely settled in Spain.” 

The alacrity with which Mr Thornton spun around spoke volumes of where his heart truly lay. “If you’ll be needing me, I’ll be in the carding shed, Master,” he announced, loudly enough for Miss Margaret to hear also. 

When he emerged half an hour later, he did so in as quiet a manner as not to disturb the young lovers, locked in a tender embrace that would swiftly become the talk of all Milton, were it to be noticed by anyone but himself. He was by now well enough acquainted with Mr Thornton’s character to trust him with Miss Margaret’s reputation, and as for the lass, he knew she would never consent to any true impropriety. 

Let the young people enjoy their happiness in peace, he mused to himself, even as he strolled out into the clear morning. His gaze was invariably drawn to the upper window at which Mrs Thornton was standing, looking down into the mill yard, and he made sure to touch his cap in a quick salute.  

Their eyes met in brief understanding, and he saw Mrs Thornton’s stern features rearrange themselves into something close enough to a smile. He walked on, whistling a familiar tune, and eagerly anticipated the moment he would be called to offer his most heartfelt congratulations to the new couple.  

[specialagentlokitty]

Mr Bell x Autistic!student!Reader - know your tells

Could we possibly get some mr bell comfort x autistic student whose gone nonverbal? X - Anon💜

Sitting on the edge of the field, you plucked some grass from the ground and took another, carefully tying the two blades of grass together.

You picked another, and began to do the same thing.

Mr Bell glanced at you, throwing the rugby ball back into play, he walked over and crouched down in front of you.

“Hey (Y/N), are you doing alright?” He asked.

You nodded your head, holding up the grass you were tying together.

He smiled a little bit.

“That looks good, what are you making it into?”

You said nothing.

Reaching out, you tapped the back of his hand, turning your palm up to the sky, then you tapped his hand again, doing the same thing.

Mr Bell sat down, and he turned his hand the way that you wanted him too.

You set the grass in hand, and began plucking more so you could create a new one.

Glancing at him, you noticed that he wasn’t doing anything other it, and you grumbled a little bit, throwing more grass at him.

“Hey, okay, there’s no need for that.” He said calmly.

You grabbed another handful of grass, and instead of throwing it at him, you placed it in his palm this time before going back to what you were doing.

Mr Bell, knowing what you wanted him to do began to copy you. Though he wasn’t nearly as good at tying the grass together as you were.

When you were done, you linked both ends, and he you put it on his head making him laugh a little.

“I think it’s supposed to be flowers, but thank you (Y/N).”

You glanced at him before turning away, making a small noise.

“You want to go back in?”

You tapped your hand on your shoulder, nodding your head a little bit.

“Come on then, let’s take you to get an early lunch yeah? Then you can go sit with me at reception until next lesson.”

He went to talk to the other teacher watching the group before jogging over to follow you into the building.

You made a few more noises, and made your way to the canteen.

Mr Bell knew what you wanted, you got the same thing every day, so while you wondered around the empty room he went to get your lunch for you.

He had been teaching you since you first started at the school, so he knew what your little noises meant, and what you wanted.

It made everything easier, because he understood someday you just couldn’t talk like you could others.

He wasn’t there to pressure you into communicating, that wasn’t his job.

His job was to support you, and if that meant following you while you did laps around the canteen to calm yourself down, then that’s what he would do

[oautincorrectquotes]

Rumple: Don't worry, I have a few knives up my sleeve.

Belle: I think you mean cards.

Rumple, pulling knives out of his sleeves: No, I do not.

[oddthesungod]

Bright star, When I first laid eyes upon you I was filled with such longing To be with you in the dark