by Nancy Klein
Meg’s heart plummeted. He was not well. He was working too much, and not eating properly. This was her doing, she thought with despair, and wondered why his mother was not making him eat properly. He obviously needed someone to care for him, she thought with growing determination. She would change all of that, once they were reunited.
Dixon saw the stricken look upon her young mistress’s face and relented. “Don’t fret, Miss Meg. It isn’t anything that seeing you won’t cure,” Dixon announced, and Meg had the grace to blush.
When she finished her breakfast, Meg donned her bonnet and wrapped a light shawl about her shoulders. Picking up her reticule, she opened it to retrieve her gloves and found Mr. Thornton’s journal. It had come with her through the mirror. With trembling hands, she extracted the slim book and opened it. It was blank—there was not a line or jot on any page. She inhaled sharply—she had changed the future! Their lives were a blank slate once more and the entries in the journal would be totally different, if she had anything to do with it.
As she strolled along the streets of Milton, calling greetings to people that she knew, she decided to stop at the clinic and surprise Doctor Donaldson. She wanted to know where her financial affairs, and longed to see his friendly face. Stepping briskly around the corner to the clinic, she walked inside, closing the door with a snap so that the bell rang resoundingly.
“Just a moment,” she heard him call in his irate voice, and she felt a welling of deep affection for her wonderful curmudgeon of a friend. He came down the hall, wiping his hands on a cloth, and said, “Yes, how may I….” His voice trailed off as he saw who it was, and he sucked in his breath sharply. “Margaret Hale, as I live and breathe. Where have you been? I expected you a fortnight ago!”
“You knew I would come back?”
“I knew you would try!” he said with so much satisfaction that she had to laugh. “Come into my office, you must tell me everything.”
“And so I will—later. I am on my way to Marlborough Mills.”
Doctor Donaldson studied her flushed, happy face. “Tell me, Meg, why have you come back? Did you miss the clinic?”
“Yes, I missed the clinic and you and all of the people in Milton whom I care for…but I came back for Mr. Thornton. I was wrong . My place is with him.”
The doctor was pleased. “So you have come to your senses at last, have you? Why aren’t you at Marlborough Mills now?”
“I wanted to find out how many of my instructions you carried out concerning the deeds and money.”
“I gave Higgins the deed to his house, but have done nothing else,” the doctor replied succinctly, “I wanted to wait six months to be sure you would not return in case questions arose. I worried that your aunt might come looking for you, and that she would raise a hue and cry about your going missing. I thought nothing was lost by waiting. You had purchased the house in Crampton, so there was no fear of Miss Dixon being evicted. However, I thought you would want Higgins and the children to take possession of their home as soon as possible.”
Meg heaved a sigh of relief. “You thought correctly. Thank you, doctor.”
“I am delighted that I could be of assistance. When will you return to work? I have missed your assistance dreadfully. Are you certain you cannot stay for a cup of tea? I could have the kettle on in a thrice.”
“No, I must go to the mill,” she replied, smiling to soften her refusal. “I have business with Mr. Thornton. But expect to see me in a day or so, ready to work. And I will see about transferring funds to you for the clinic.”
He laughed wryly. “You are the most redoubtable girl. Go on, Meg, go to the mill and see Thornton. Lord knows, he has been miserable in your absence. Unlike me, he did not believe you would return, and is forever moping about the clinic while I’m trying to get work done. Go make him a happy man.”
She hugged him, and promised again to return to work as soon as she could. As he escorted her to the door, he gazed with earnest affection at her happy face. “I am sincerely glad that you are back. I have missed you, and not just for your skills as a nurse.”
Meg made her way to Marlborough Mills, her heart pounding in anticipation. She hesitated for a brief moment inside the large gates as her eyes swept the mill yard. Business was obviously advancing apace, given the number of workers pushing barrows filled with goods or unloading raw materials from carts. She was heartened to see the bustle about her, a sign of a prosperous enterprise.
Longing to see Mr. Thornton, she hastened to his office and peered inside, but the room was empty. Mastering her disappointment, she travelled to the luncheon room, hoping he might be there. He had better be eating lunch today, she thought determinedly, or I will have something to say to him. He will have a proper dinner at home each night, and go to bed at a proper hour. She thrilled at the thought that she would have the privilege of taking tender care of him. It would be her joy to do so from this day forward, she fervently hoped.
When she reached the lunchroom, it was time for the midday meal. Workers streamed through the entryway, many lifting their caps as they recognized her. As she peered into the dark interior, she heard a hearty voice roar her name, and was caught up in a crushing hug. She felt as if her ribs were crushed, but was too happy to care.
“You’ve come back—Mary, look who has come back!” Nicholas bellowed, and Meg watched as her friend, young and lithe once more, raced across the room, a wide smile on her face and arms outstretched.
“Oh, Meg,” Mary exclaimed, embracing her friend. “I’m so happy to see you! Have you come all the way from Spain so soon? We were worried that you might never return, once you were settled with your brother.”
Meg answered their overlapping questions as they dragged her along to a table. Anxious as she was to see Mr. Thornton, she could not refuse to spend a bit of time with her friends.
Nicholas clutched one of her hands between both of his, and Meg was surprised to see him struggling to speak. “Meg, how can I ever thank you for the house? We don’t deserve such a gift.”
“Father was going to refuse to accept it—he thought it was much too grand,” Mary explained placidly, “until I pointed out that it was done as much for the children as it were for us two.”
Meg nodded. “Absolutely—you took those children into your home out of the kindness of your heart, and soon found you were living on top of each other. I did nothing to inherit that money besides having the good fortune of being the goddaughter of Mr. Bell. The house is my way of helping your family.” She returned the pressure of his hand. “You have already thanked me if you are living there.”
Mary laughed happily. “The children are beside themselves, having space to play and a bedroom of their own. And Dixon helped me make curtains and gave me furniture from your attic that was never used when you moved to Milton,” she explained hastily. “Mr. Thornton gave us furniture as well.”
They chatted for several minutes until Meg recollected the purpose of her visit. Turning to Nicholas, she asked, “Is Mr. Thornton at the mill today?”
He looked at her speculatively. “Should be—in fact, this is the time of day he is usually on the floor, supervising. Are you going to see him now?” She nodded, unable to speak for the nervousness welling up within her.
Nicholas slapped his hands against the table and stood. “I’ll walk over with you, Meg. I want to see his face when he sees you again. He has missed you mightily, and the sight of your face will ease his heart. He may toss me out, but this is something I must see.”
Nicholas escorted Meg to the mill, opening the door so that she might precede him. She entered the mill, and came face to face with Mrs. Thornton. Her smile slipped—she felt as if someone had slammed a fist into her midsection. Mrs. Thornton stiffened and a look of grave displeasure crossed her face.
“Good day, Miss Hale,” she said politely, eyeing Meg with rampant curiosity. “What brings you to Marlborough Mills?”
“I-I was looking for Mr. Thornton. I must speak wi
th him.”
Mrs. Thornton looked pleased. “That is impossible. He has gone to London on business.”
Meg was filled with dismay. “When did he leave?”
“He was scheduled to leave this morning. He has pressing business with an investor who is interested in his plans for improvements to the mill.” She took a step closer to Meg, her proud face aglow. “My son has taken ownership of Marlborough Mills—he now holds the deed. He will not tell me how he came by it, but my belief is that Mr. Bell gave it to him in recognition of his fine work before departing for South America.”
Meg nodded, barely able to remain polite in her frantic need to see him. “Pardon me, Mrs. Thornton, but is his train leaving soon? Perhaps I might catch him at the station.” Without waiting to hear the older woman’s response, she turned to Nicholas. “I must get to the station!”
Nicholas grasped her elbow and rushed her from the mill, nodding once to the astonished Mrs. Thornton. “We’d best take a carriage,” he said as they hurried toward the gates. “It will be quicker than running.” He managed to hail a carriage, helped her in, and followed quickly, shouting, “Outwood Station! Hurry, man!”
“Nicholas, are you mad? Aren’t you working your shift? What will the foreman say?” Meg was aghast at the thought that her friend might jeopardize his place at the mill by helping her.
“Nay, Meg,” Nicholas exclaimed with a scoffing laugh. “I’m betting that if I bring you to him, Thornton will be so grateful he might make me overseer!”
When they arrived at the station, Meg did not wait for the carriage to stop, but opened the door and leapt out. Higgins paid the driver and followed quickly on her heels. She raced along the platform, looking into each train compartment in search of Mr. Thornton. She ran from one end of the platform to the other, garnering many astonished glances from men and women in the compartments and on the platform. Not finding him, she accosted a steward to ask if he had seen Mr. Thornton. “No, miss,” he replied, eying her curiously. “I’ve been on the platform all morning and have not seen him here.”
She peered into the ticket office, but he was not there. Higgins ran up to her and stooped over, resting his hands on his thighs to catch his breath. “No one has seen him, Meg. I checked with the ticket agent and several of the porters. He has not been here.”
“Could he have gone to the other station?” she asked, lips trembling.
“No, this is the closest station to the mill—it would make no sense for him to leave from t’other.”
Meg felt like sitting down on the platform and crying. It seemed she was destined to miss him. Seeing her disappointment, Higgins said, “Let us return to the mill. Williams may have an idea where he is. Perhaps he took an earlier train. Don’t look like that, Meg,” he urged her, goaded by her expression of grief. “It will only be a few days at worst.”
She nodded, but could not explain the clenching fear coursing through her as she remembered racing from Gran’s yesterday in her panicked need to return to him. She remembered his gravestone and how she had wept in terror that all was lost. She needed to see him, to know he was well. He had become as elemental to her survival as air or water, and she feared that if she could not see his face or feel his arms about her soon, something would happen to part them anew.
However, she managed to rein in her fear and impatience, and walked with Nicholas back to the mill. She was much too fidgety to ride, and the walk gave her a chance to bring her frazzled emotions under control. She masked her deep disappointment by asking Nicholas numerous questions about Tommy and the children, and the mill.
Nicholas sniffed at one point in this discussion. “Thornton’s mother believes Mr. Bell gave her son ownership of Marlborough Mills, but I know better. I’m betting that you were the one that handed the lease over to him, seeing as how your godfather left the mill to you.” Seeing her discomfited countenance, he emitted a dry chuckle. “So, I guessed correctly. And why did you go and give such a large chunk of your fortune to Thornton?”
She would not meet his gaze. “I believe you know.”
“I believe I do, but I want to hear you say it.”
Meg looked at him directly. “I gave it to him because he deserves to own it—and because….” She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts so that she might express her exact feelings to Higgins. “Because I love him. It was the one gift in my power to give that I knew would mean the world to him.”
Nicholas looked at her, all amusement gone from his face. “No, Meg, the one gift that would mean the world to him would be to have you as his wife.” This pronouncement silenced Meg, and they kept their own counsel until they reached the mill gates.
Upon entering the mill office, they found Mr. Williams seated behind the desk, filing orders and entering numbers in one of the ledgers. He glanced up as they entered and gave Higgins a stern look, as if to ask why he wasn’t on the floor. When he recognized Meg, he stood and doffed his cap. “Good afternoon, miss. How may I help you?”
“Please, Mr. Williams, could you tell me how long Mr. Thornton will be in London, and when he will return?”
Mr. Williams looked at her blankly. “London? Mr. Thornton isn’t in London.”
Meg and Higgins exchanged astonished glances. “But his mother said—”
Mr. Williams’ countenance cleared and he smiled in comprehension. “His meeting with his banker took most of the morning, so he postponed his trip to London until tomorrow. I expect Mrs. Thornton did not know he had returned. No, miss, if you are looking for him, he is on the floor of the mill now. May I—”
The words died on his lips as she lifted her skirts and ran from the room. He looked inquisitively at Higgins, who shrugged. “Personal matter.”
Meg hurried along the narrow hallway, fervently hoping that he was on the floor and had not decided to visit his lawyer or mother or any other person in Milton. She paused a moment at the doorway to quell her shaking limbs before she pulled the door open and paused, as she had so long ago—or was it just moments ago?—to gaze about her surroundings. To her wiser and more loving eyes, the fluff now appeared magical, soft and white, and the noise of the machinery was the sweetest music she had ever heard.
Stepping carefully around the workers, she caught a glimpse of black. A tall, striking man strode up stairs of the dais, and turned to survey the workroom, much as a captain would look down on sailors toiling on the deck of his ship. She shivered—it was him. He was here once more, young and vital, and alive. He stood above the clash and clatter of the machines, surveying the work room as he had when she had first seen him, a strong, proud man among lesser men. He looked pale and tired, but very much the Master.
She studied his beloved face, and marveled once again that he could love her—and that his love for her had drawn her back to him. Her heart beat thickly, as if it was about to come up through the roof of her mouth. She was light headed, and the whimsical thought passed through her mind that he was like the whiskey Doctor Donaldson had once given her—he went to her head and made her giddy.
She stood immobile and waited for his eyes to light upon her. At last, she saw his cursory glance note her presence, automatically move past her, and snap back in stunned confusion. His eyes widened in shock, and she watched as comprehension dawned. She saw his entire frame transmute with joy, and his lips part in stunned delight.
As he observed the rhythm of the work unfolding below him, Mr. Thornton had been thinking of her, as he always did—in the morning when he shaved, at lunch when Higgins bullied him to eat, in his office when he reviewed the ledgers, and at night when he lay in his cold and lonely bed. That was the worst time of all, so desperately did he wish she was beside him, so that he could turn and pull her against him. He wanted so desperately to see her that when he spied her standing before him, in a shimmering silver dress, he thought that he had conjured up her image, like a master magician pulls a woman from a cabinet where there had been no woman a moment before. He looked at her longingly, w
ishing she were really here, and then he saw Higgins step up behind her and whisper something in her ear. She turned and tossed a comment over her shoulder before turning her attention back to the dais and smiling brilliantly. He knew then that this was no vision; this was Meg, his Meg—she had come back to him by some divine miracle.
Before he could think, he was down the stairs, moving faster than he had ever moved. In wide strides, he traversed the space between them until they were at arms’ length from each other. He gazed raptly at her face as if he did not quite believe she was real, and then he lifted a shaking hand to caress her cheek. She turned her face into his palm and kissed it, and he pulled her into his arms, no longer able to resist. Holding her close to his chest, he pushed her bonnet from her head so that he might press his rough cheek against hers. His arms were like iron bands, squeezing the air from her lungs, but she prayed he would never let her go.
“You came back,” he whispered in a hoarse voice, tears swimming in his eyes, “You came back to me.” He murmured the words brokenly, over and over, a mantra that bound her to him for all eternity. At length, he stepped back so that he could study her face, touching it with gentle hands to assure himself that every feature was the same—the beautiful blue eyes, the misplaced dimple by her mouth, the soft damask of her cheek, the warm smile—all so irresistible to him.
The gentle touch of his hands on her face, and his bemused, enchanted smile caused a spill of emotion within Meg that brought her close to tears once more.
He continued to study her, and a sudden frown creased his forehead as a thought occurred to him. “Why have you come back?”
“What?” she asked, striving to hear him above the cacophonous noise of the machinery.
He grimaced in impatience and, clasping her hand, led her from the room into the hallway where he repeated his question.