Chapter 20. The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill

Once Meg determined that it was time for her to leave Milton, she filled her days with a flurry of activities. She welcomed the mindless bustle because it kept her from dwelling on the sharp sense of impending loss that niggled at her mind. Soon, she would leave Milton and Mr. Thornton, never to return. Her longing and grief often threatened to bring her to her knees, but she would summon up her memories of Mr. Latimer's confidences to Mr. Bell, and the realization that Miss Latimer was destined for Mr. Thornton-and she was destined for something else. The dull ache never quite left her heart, but she was able to concentrate on the numerous tasks that stretched in front of her.

Mr. Bell departed Milton the day after their discussion, bound for Oxford to pack his bags and prepare for his momentous trip. Meg accompanied him to the train station, and hugged him before he boarded the train. She thought she saw a glimmer of tears in his eyes as he left her, but his parting words were jaunty and made her laugh. He promised to write to her from South America, and she nodded enthusiastically, thinking she would be gone before his first letter arrived.

She met with Mr. Bell's lawyer and, to his surprise, requested that he draw up a will for her. He did not understand why such a young woman required a will, and questioned her strenuously. However, once she explained that she was single woman with no immediate family, and that she wanted to ensure her wealth was used as she intended should anything happen to her, he thought her quite prudent. Mr. Bechtold reported to Meg that a check had been written and delivered to Mr. Thornton to stave off the closure of Marlborough Mills. Meg expressed her gratitude, and proceeded to discompose him further by requesting a change of ownership for the deed to Marlborough Mills. She also asked that he act as her agent to procure several properties-the first being the house in Crampton, and the second a similar house in an adjacent neighborhood. The first house was to be deeded to a Mrs. Dixon, and the second to a Nicholas Higgins.

Although startled, Mr. Bechtold maintained his professional demeanor and promised Meg that these things would be taken care of within the week. Mr. Bell had always been eccentric, he thought, shrugging his shoulders. Why should his heir be any different? In any event, her wealth was sufficient to cover these expenditures easily without depleting all of her resources. He thought her stipulations for the money were odd, but it was her money and Mr. Bechtold was a firm believer that his clients should be allowed to dispose of their assets as they saw fit. Odd girl, he mused, but she seemed to have a good heart.

Meg spent as many evenings with Nicholas and Mary as possible, listening to stories from Nicholas on how the mill was revitalized and business was beginning to pick up again. "Thornton is working day and night to bring things back on line-I swear, that man doesn't sleep," Nicholas declared, shaking his head in wonder. "He's in his office when I arrive, and still working when I leave at night. The men think he is made of iron." Meg longed to ask how he looked, how he fared, anything to sustain her connection with him, but she could not bear for Nicholas to know how much it mattered to her and so kept her peace.

She watched Nicholas, Mary, and the children carefully during these times, imprinting their features and voices in her memory so she could recall how they looked and spoke and laughed when she left them behind. She knew she would see Gran again soon, but never as the charming and shy young woman that she was now. Gazing at Nicholas, she thought with longing that he would have been her adoptive great-grandfather. Such thoughts were incredible to her, but not half as incredible as the thought of leaving them behind.

As she left one evening, she pulled Mary aside and asked if she might speak with her outside. Mary agreed immediately, and followed her friend out into the street. "Mary," she said hesitantly, "I didn't want to say anything to Nicholas or the children, but I am going to go on a journey shortly, and it may be a long time before I return."

"Oh, Meg," Mary exclaimed sadly, "I am sorry to hear that you will be leaving us-how much we shall miss you! Are you going to visit your brother?"

Meg smiled warmly at the earnest young girl, and snatched at the excuse offered to her. "Yes, I plan on going to Spain to stay with my brother for awhile. I-I wanted to ask you...." She stopped and struggled with the words before she continued, "It might be awhile before I return-it depends on how successful my journey is. I wanted to tell you not to be surprised if-if I send someone to see you some time in the future. I will never forget you, and will want to know how you and your family fare."

Mary looked perplexed, but nodded her head. "Very well, miss, I won't forget." She impulsively hugged her friend, and tenderly kissed her cheek. "May I tell Father you are going?" she asked eagerly.

Meg hesitated. "Wait a day or so before you tell him, please. I do not want him fretting over where I am going." Or asking me questions about why I would leave Mr. Thornton, she added to herself as she slipped off toward her home.

Toward the end of her week, Meg spent a difficult morning with Doctor Donaldson. When she entered the clinic from her final visit to the lawyers, he took one look at her face and exclaimed, "You have decided to go back, haven't you?" She nodded, incapable of speech, and he hung his head for a moment to gather his emotions.

After several minutes passed, he spoke. "I will be deeply sorry to see you go, Meg. I had been hoping you would change your mind and stay with us. We need you-Milton needs you."

Meg fought against the strong emotions coursing through her. "Milton will do just fine without me," she said evenly. "I came here with a purpose, and that purpose is fulfilled. It is time for me to leave." She told him about seeing the fortune teller on the streets of Milton again. "She has always appeared at momentous times, to point me in the direction in which I should go. Her appearance now tells me it is time to leave."

He sighed, and rubbed a hand over his forehead. "Are you certain that was her purpose? You have made a life for yourself here. What about your friends? What about Mr. Thornton?" he asked quietly.

"What about Mr. Thornton?" she replied stubbornly, deliberately misunderstanding his intent.

"You will not put me off, Meg," Doctor Donaldson said impatiently. "Why are you doing this? You love that man-anyone can see that, just as a blind man would be able to see that he loves you."

She turned away from the doctor, saying with decision, "I am doing this because Mr. Thornton is better off without me." When Doctor Donaldson made a scoffing noise, she turned on him angrily. "He is-I know I am right about this! He needs someone like Miss Latimer who is a proper lady and will help raise his status in Milton and the manufacturing community."

"With your wealth, you could help him just as well as Miss Latimer," Doctor Donaldson replied sharply.

"I'm not talking about money! She has the birth and breeding and connections to help him become the Master and leader that he is meant to be. I cannot do that-imagine, the wife of the Master of Marlborough Mills, working in a medical clinic, attempting to become a doctor. It would be the talk of the town, and it would shame him. I am too different, too-modern to be the wife he needs. He may think he loves me, but he will soon realize that Ann Latimer is the wife for him, and he will come to care for her, I know he will." She spoke fiercely, as if convincing herself of the truth of her argument, all the while feeling that she was bleeding inside.

"Do you think a man as in love with you as Thornton is will take second best?" Doctor Donaldson scoffed.

Meg wiped her eyes. "He may care for me now, but I am not the woman for him," she repeated softly. "He is to marry Miss Latimer. I overheard Mr. Bell and her father discussing it. She will be the perfect wife for him. She will be the model hostess and will know how to arrange the dinners and parties that will help him to become acquainted with and move in the best circles of society. With her father's assistance and business savvy, Mr. Thornton will be able to advance his mill to become one of the best in all of England. Believe me, this is what is best for the future of Marlborough Mills and Mr. Thornton."

Doctor Donaldson sighed. "I can see it would be useless for me to argue with your further, pig-headed young woman that you are. I will just tell you that I think you are making a mistake, and you will have to live with the consequences."

Meg smiled sadly. "I am well aware of that. "Now, will you help me or not?"

"Of course, I will help you," he replied irritably. "What do you need me to do?"

Stripping off her gloves, she continued, "I have instructed my lawyer to advance you £8,000 pounds for your medical clinic. Rather than run it out of your home, you may open a separate facility with everything you need to care for your patients."

He stared at her and she laughed-she could not remember him ever being speechless before. "I will not need this money in the future," she explained, "although I have left additional funds in your name in case the real Margaret Hale should ever return to Milton. I am of the mind now that she will not-she has been gone too long, I believe, but on the odd chance that she does, she must have something to live upon. The remainder of my inheritance has been divided, and I want the clinic to have a share of my money."

His eyes lit with enthusiasm. "Meg, are you certain?" At her eager nod, he stepped forward and gave her a bone-crushing hug. "What a magnificent gift. How can I tell you what this gift means to me?" he said, smiling at her warmly.

"By putting the money to good use, as I know you will," she replied affectionately. "I will look for your clinic when I return to the future, so make sure you do what you can to ensure its continuance. I want to recognize it when I see it."

"Perhaps I shall call it The Time Traveler Health Clinic," Doctor Donaldson said dryly, and they both laughed before she assumed a sober mien.

"I have several favors to ask of you," she said steadily.

He crossed his arms on his chest and leaned against the desk. "Anything," he replied.

"I want you to tell Dixon and Nicholas and Mary that I have decided to spend time in London with my aunt after I return from Spain. After I have been gone a period of time-say, a year- tell the authorities that you have contacted my family in London, and they do not know where I am-that they in fact never saw me-and so you are reporting my disappearance. They will not find me and, after a time, will declare me dead. Make sure they do so in order to dispose of my estate. I have named you executor of my will-you must visit Mr. Bechtold and sign the paperwork as soon as you can. I am leaving it to you to handle my will-will you do that for me?"

"By God, you are pretty cold blooded about this, Meg," Doctor Donaldson exclaimed, examining her with a critical eye. "Are you absolutely certain about this?"

She did not respond to him, but continued, "I have purchased the house in which my family lived in Crampton-when I have gone, I would like for you to take the deed to Dixon and tell her the house is my gift to her, along with an annuity to pay for her to live comfortably. I have also purchased another house-the deed for this is to be given to Nicholas Higgins." She saw his brows lift, and hurried to complete her instructions. "Once I have been declared dead, the remainder of my estate is to be liquidated and the proceeds divided four ways. One portion is to be sent to my brother in Cadiz; I have left the address for you with the lawyer in a sealed envelope, and I know you will be discrete. The second portion is to come to you to help you sustain the clinic. The third portion is to go to Nicholas Higgins so that he may school and care for the Boucher children. The final portion is to go to Margaret Hale, should she return-if she does not, it is yours for the clinic."

Doctor Donaldson whistled. "You are quite the heiress, aren't you? Have you no bequest for Mr. Thornton?"

She gazed steadily at him. "Yes, and I will give it to him today before I go through the mirror."

He stared at her. "Do you mean to leave as early as today?"

Meg nodded. "I have had my luggage sent ahead to the station, and Dixon believes I am to take the train to London en route to Portsmouth this evening. If you would not mind disposing of my luggage for me, I would be grateful."

"You have thought of everything," he replied dryly, "except the very large hole your departure will leave in all of our lives."

She gave a small sob, and he saw her struggle to master her emotions. Raising her brimming eyes to his, she said unsteadily, "I will never forget you, and will think of you every day." He opened his arms, and she walked into him and hugged him tightly. He could feel sobs wracking her slender frame, and knew she was devastated to be leaving Milton.

"God bless you, my dear. I have said all that I will about your departure from us-if your mind is made up, I will no longer attempt to sway you. I hope all of your dreams come true," he said softly, and kissed her brow before setting her away from him. "Now, you had best go before you make this old fool cry."

She kissed his cheek and, gathering her reticule and gloves, left the clinic, turning just once to raise her hand in farewell before departing. With a slow step, Doctor Donaldson returned to his office to consider what he would do without her smiling and steady presence in his life.

********

John Thornton sat in his office in the early evening, jacket off and shirtsleeves rolled up. Since receiving the funds from Mr. Bell, he had spent most of his waking hours putting together plans for revitalizing operations at Marlborough Mills. The money loaned to him not only allowed him to remain open, but to extend his supply chain through new relationships, and to expand his operation with new machinery. He was as excited as a child on Christmas morning, full of plans for making Marlborough Mills the most productive mill in Milton, yet that excitement lacked the spark his efforts usually had.

Something was missing, and he knew all too well what that something was. Success was not as sweet without the satisfaction of knowing he was working for more than himself. Somehow, when he had pictured bringing the mill back to prosperity, he imagined that Miss Hale would be by his side, approving of his efforts and encouraging him in his plans and schemes. He thought he would be building something solid and good for himself and Meg's future, but he guessed he had been wrong. She has changed my life, and I will never be the same, he thought in desperation. How can I feel she is a part of me, as essential as my breath or the beats of my heart, without her feeling the same about me?

He knew that Miss Hale was doing everything in her power to avoid him of late. His heart felt heavy at the thought that he had done something to offend her. Ever since the day she had worked in the lunchroom, she had no time for him. When he stopped by the clinic, she was always too busy with patients to speak to him above common pleasantries. When he went to her home, she inevitably was out at a meeting with her lawyer or settling some business. He had even gone to visit Nicholas Higgins in the hopes of meeting her there, but he seemed destined to miss her. "Her thoughts seem miles away when she's here," Higgins had told him reflectively. "She has something weighing on her mind, no doubt."

She was an heiress now, he thought. Why should she give him the time of day? Higgins speculated that with her new-found wealth, she might want to return to London; she had hinted at it during her last visit to his home, he told Mr. Thornton gloomily. Once in London, she would want to remain in the city, Mr. Thornton supposed. She will go and I won't see her again, he thought, and felt a sense of desolation sweep over him. Before he had met her, he was satisfied with his life; his work and family and business acquaintances filled his days with a pleasant hum. Now, he knew how empty his life had truly been. She filled his thoughts waking and dreaming; he felt he was a better man because he had known her, and he wanted more out of life now. Never again would he be satisfied with just his work.

Laying down his pen, he propped an elbow on the desk and rested his forehead on his hand.

"You are tired," a clear voice said from the doorway of his office. His head snapped up and he found the object of his meditation regarding him with a guarded smile. "May I come in?" she asked, "if I'm not interrupting anything?" Uncertain how to reply, he nodded his head and waved her inside.

"How is business at the mill?" she asked, seating herself in the chair across from his and removing her gloves and hat as if she were planning to stay for awhile.

He pulled his scattered thoughts together and replied, "It is well-thanks to the loan from Mr. Bell, we have the funds to remain solvent for at least six months. By then, I hope we will have expanded our supplier base and have the means to improve our productive output." Fool, he thought bitterly, she does not wish to hear all of these boring details. He hurried along, "I know that you asked Mr. Bell to lend me the funds so that Nicholas and the other workers would have continued work, and I thank you for it."

Meg gave a small snort of laughter, and the warm smile on her face smote his heart. "Do not be a fool," she said tenderly, echoing his thought of a moment ago. "I am glad that Nicholas and the others have work...but I did not ask Mr. Bell for them-" She paused and met his wary eyes with her honest gaze. "Surely you know...I did it for you."

"Why?" he asked sharply, pushing the ledger aside.

"This mill means the world to you. I could not stand the thought of you no longer being Master of Marlborough Mills. You are a fair and just Master, the best in Milton, and it is only right that you have the means to run your mill and make it better than it was before," she said decidedly. Reaching into her large reticule, she pulled out a sheaf of papers, and placed them on the desk before him.

"What is this?" he asked, looking at the papers suspiciously.

"It is my gift to you," she replied evenly.

Lifting his eyes to hers and holding her gaze, he slowly reached across the desk and pulled the papers toward him. Unfolding them, he read down the first page, stopped, and stared at her. "It is the deed to Marlborough Mills," he said in a bemused tone.

"I know." She smiled at him lovingly, and gently urged, "Look at the last page."

Trembling, he flipped to the final page and froze. Raising stunned eyes to hers, he asked in a voice tight with emotion, "You are signing the mill over to me?"

She nodded, unable to speak.

"Why?" he asked in a rough whisper. "Why are you doing this?"

"I am doing this because you deserve to own Marlborough Mills, not me. You should be the rightful owner. I know of no better man to own or run this mill."

He stared at the papers a moment longer before violently pushing them away from him. "I cannot accept it," he declared harshly.