Chapter 22. It's My Own Invention

"Clothilde!" cried Meg, staring at the fortune teller. She could not believe her eyes-after all of this time, that she should meet the gypsy in the warehouse where she had first sent her-a day ago? Two years ago?

The woman looked at her steadily. "You have not answered my question," she repeated. "Have you found your heart's desire?"

Meg nodded emphatically, and Clothide smiled broadly. "Ah, I thought you would." She studied Meg for a moment, and asked her, "And have you figured out who you are?"

Meg gaped at her-had the woman lost her mind? "I know who I am," she replied slowly.

The fortune teller laughed. "Perhaps you do-and perhaps you do not." She speared Meg with a direct stare. "Tell me, Meg, were you successful in Milton?"

Meg thought for a moment before she responded slowly, wiping the residual tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, "Yes, I believe so. I stopped the riot, and saved-those whom I was supposed to save." She paused and asked, "Whatever happened to Margaret Hale?"

Clothilde waved a hand at her impatiently. "We shall come to that presently. How did you fare living in Milton-how did you deal with your family and the people that you met?"

Meg thought again, and said, "Mr. and Mrs. Hale were wonderful-I could not have loved them more if they had been my real parents. Dixon was a very special woman, and Nicholas and Mary Higgins were lovely people. Mr. Bell was like having another father as well as a good friend, and Doctor Donaldson-I do not know what I would have done without him."

"So you loved them, and felt as if you belonged?" she asked, and Meg nodded, mystified.

"You did not mention John Thornton," the fortune teller said quietly, a gleam in her eye.

"I loved him," Meg said, beginning to cry again. "No, that's not right, I do love him. I will always love him."

"And yet you left him, and came back to this time. Why?"

Meg choked out, "My mission was complete. I had saved John and the others, and there was nothing left for me to do. When I saw you in the street in Milton, I was certain that it was a sign that it was time for me to come back to my own time and resume my life...." She stopped abruptly. "Only, I find I have no life in London now, and I'm not sure where I belong." Meg stared at Clothilde and angrily blurted out, "Why did you bring me back to this time if I no longer have a life here?"

"Was that the only reason you came back?" Clothilde asked gently.

Meg shook her head morosely. "No, I came back because I was convinced that I wasn't the right woman for John-I thought I could never help him advance his career or become the master of industry that he was meant to become. I thought he would marry Ann Latimer, but he didn't. I was wrong," she cried, placing a hand over her mouth in a futile attempt to muffle her sobs.

"You foolish child," Clothilde said affectionately, stooping to bring herself to eye level with Meg. "You were not just meant to save John Thornton, Meg, but to find your own life-and your heart's desire."

Meg felt her heart begin to beat wildly. "What do you mean?" she asked in a frightened tone.

"Search your heart and tell me the answer," the fortune teller urged.

Meg pushed up from the floor angrily, wiping her hands on her skirt. "Is this a game to you? Why do you ask me all of these questions, but refuse to answer mine. Who are you?"

Clothilde smiled at her gently and stood. "The more relevant question is-who are you?"

Meg's mouth went dry. "Who am I?" she forced out through stiff lips.

The fortune teller smiled at her confused expression. "Do you not see it? Did you not know the day you looked in the mirror and saw yourself? You are the same person you have always been." Seeing Meg was still mystified, Clothilde said quietly, "You are Margaret Hale, of course."

Meg stared at her, unable to wrap her mind around fortune teller's words. She repeated stupidly, "I am Margaret Hale?"

Noticing that Meg was unsteady and pale, Clothilde grasped her by the elbow and led her to the chair behind the desk, sitting her down firmly.

Meg took a deep breath and exhaled. All of this time, she had been concerned about Margaret Hale's whereabouts, wondering where she could be and when she might return, only to find out that she was Margaret Hale? Impossible!

Spearing her nemesis with an angry glare, Meg sputtered, "How is it possible that I am Margaret Hale? I was born in London, years after she was born-I never lived in the country, and did not know who my parents were, while she had a family. How can that be?"

Clothilde laughed and shrugged her shoulders. "How is it possible that you traveled through time? Meg, I have followed the progress of your entire life, and I know for a fact that you are Margaret Hale, even though you are also Meg Armstrong. Margaret and Meg are one in the same. You see, I am the one responsible for your dual lives, and the strange turn that your life took."

Meg gaped at her in astonishment, and her voice quavered as she asked, "I don't understand. How can that be? Who are you?"

The fortune teller sat upon the edge of the desk and crossed her arms on her chest. "Do you remember the story that your father-Mr. Hale-told the night that John Thornton first came to your house for tea-about the Moirae?"

Meg nodded, but still did not comprehend. Clothilde gazed steadily at her, a strange smile on her face, until the revelation dawned upon Meg. "You!" she exclaimed, "You are one of the Moirae!"

Clothilde nodded once in satisfaction, exclaiming, "Very good, my dear! Yes, I am one of the Moirae, or Fates."

Meg's face puckered in disbelief. "I thought you were mythical creations."

Clothide retorted, "Just because man no longer believes in us does not mean we do not exist. We are very real, as many a man who crossed us has found to his profound regret. I am Clotho, the weaver of the thread, and it has been my task to watch over you your entire life. When you were Margaret Hale, you rejected the fate that had been cast for you, making my sisters very angry. But here, let me start at the beginning and tell you everything." She settled herself comfortably upon the desk and took up the thread of her story.

"Margaret Hale was a lovely and privileged young woman, but also spoiled and somewhat selfish. You were not a bad person, just self-absorbed. It was a mistake for your parents to send you to London with your aunt-you learned to love ease and fashion too much while you were there, and came to think that life was a series of pleasures owed to you, without work or struggle. The fate that my sisters and I decreed for you was to go to Milton, be a comfort to your parents, insert yourself in the day-to-day life of the workers, help the poor and indigent, and, most importantly, stem the tide of the riot, thereby saving John Thornton's life. Please know it was not dictated at this time whether you were to marry John Thornton or not-it was to be your choice. But there was important work for you to do in Milton, and it was imperative that you stay in Milton. Such was the fate that I spun for you."

Meg looked at her fearfully, and asked, "What do you mean?"

The fortune teller's visage became grim. "You decided that you did not want to remain in Milton-you were miserable the moment you heard about the impending move to the North, and you made your father very unhappy with your complaints and weeping. Your mother might have resolved to accept her fate, but your sadness compounded the sense of loss she felt, and helped to make everyone dissatisfied."

Meg felt ill at hearing this description of her behavior. At the same time, Clotho's words began conjuring up latent memories of things she had never recalled before. "I-I remember something about a parsonage surrounded by hedgerows of roses, and a green lawn-sunshine, and tall shade trees, and espaliered pear trees; and boxes stacked up, awaiting shipment," she said in a dream-like tone. "I also remember boarding a train before everything went black."

Clotho nodded in satisfaction as she continued, "Before you arrived in Milton, you began scheming about how you would leave. Your mother was ill and your father distressed, but your grief at your own situation was such that you felt you must leave Milton immediately. You wrote to Henry Lennox, as you learned later, telling him you had reconsidered his proposal and would gladly accept his offer of marriage. And you purchased a train ticket to London, intent on leaving Milton forever. When my sisters saw you boarding the train, they realized that you intended to defy your fate as it had been decreed, and they became very angry. Lachesis measured the thread short, and Atropos cut it immediately, condemning you to death. But I intervened."

She broke off and examined her hands. "You do not understand the entire chain of events that your absence set off, Meg-it was not just John Thornton and the rioters who were affected. It was critical that you be in that place at that time to prevent the chain of activities that led to Milton becoming a ghost town. Besides," Clotho added, giving Meg a penetrating glance, "I saw something in you-something that I believed was redeemable, given the right set of circumstances. So I unraveled the thread of your life and began again, making another life that would be Margaret Hale but not Margaret Hale."

"To give you another chance, I left you as a newborn outside an orphanage in London. My sisters were angered by my decision, but reluctantly agreed on the condition that you would suffer some degree of hardship and a life of privation rather than privilege. You spent your early years at the orphanage doing hard work-you were cold and often hungry-you were not petted and cosseted, but given heavy chores to accomplish. And you did beautifully-you were generous and loving to the other girls and the staff, and your cheerful attitude made you a favorite. But, all along, you still had the same fate facing you, although you did not know it-it was imperative that you go to Milton to save John Thornton, and it was my task to prepare you for that fate."

"So, I came to Mary Armstrong one night in her dreams and told her she was to visit her friend at the orphanage, meet you, and decide to adopt you. She brought you into her family, and told you stories of her home town that intrigued you. Your nursing enabled you to help others, and under your Gran's care, you continued to grow into a lovely woman with a giving heart. The dreams I gave you tied you firmly to Milton, so that when you finally took your trip with Mary and arrived there, you were prepared for the fortune I gave you, although you did not understand all of it."

Clotho smiled warmly at Meg. "You have succeeded in your quest far beyond my expectations-you not only saved John Thornton and the union representatives, but many of the poor and sickly to whom you ministered." Clotho stopped and gazed compassionately at Meg. "You are not aware of it, but you saved your brother's life."

Meg gaped at her. "I saved Fred's life?"

The Fate nodded. "Because you disappeared, you were not here when your mother died. Dixon wrote to your brother telling him of your mother's poor health, and hinting that she would not live much longer. Your brother traveled to Milton to see your mother before she died. He did not have your careful eye watching out for him, and he was not as discrete as he should have been. He refused to leave Milton before your mother's funeral, even though Dixon warned him of Leonards' presence in town. He attempted to attend her funeral in disguise, was taken up by the authorities, and handed over to the admiralty for court marshal. As you had feared, he was found guilty and hung. Your father died during his trial from the strain and shock."

Meg shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. She could not comprehend the pain her father had endured-and she had changed all of that? A thought occurred to her. "But the Bouchers, and Bessy-and Mother and Father-I was not able to save them."

"You were not fated to save them all-each man or woman has his or her time determined, and unless the Fates decree otherwise, all must abide by their times. You gave the Bouchers and Bessy a few more weeks, but that is all you were allowed to give them. You eased your mother's suffering, and gave your father great happiness before he died."

Meg shook her head sadly. "It was not enough."

"It is more than you understand," Clotho countered firmly. She watched as Meg considered this thought before she continued with her tale. "You have seen today how your legacy lives on in Milton-the clinic, the school, the wealth and well being of Milton. Had you stayed to dinner with Mary, you would have found a loving family who uses their wealth, as you did, to help others in need. All of this is a direct result of the time you spent in Milton. Yes, all went exactly as plan-you have fulfilled your fate."

"How can you say I fulfilled my fate?" Meg cried out in frustration, anger beginning to stir within her. "I have spared Milton, but have not spared myself or John."

Clotho studied her carefully. "Why do you say that?"

Meg stood from the chair and began to pace the office in her fury and passion. "You say that I fulfilled my fate... I saved him... but for what purpose? Was his life fated to only be about what he accomplished in business? Was that all his life was for? No!" she cried out, wounded beyond measure at what she had learned that his life had been. "I left him, stupidly, of my own free will, thinking I did the right thing for him. And what have I found? He pined for me his entire life-he knew we belonged together, that our lives would be empty unless we spent them together."

She stopped, breathless and sick with longing. "How could I ever have thought my life would be worth anything without him? He is part of me, he is my heart!" she lamented angrily. "He mourned me the rest of his life, just as I will mourn him all the endless, empty days ahead of me! My fate was not fulfilled-my fate was to stay with him and love him, and I failed-I failed!" The last words were torn from her, and then she was beyond words. She sank to the floor and covered her face with her hands, crying as if she would never stop. She felt Clotho's hand stroke the back of her head in a comforting gesture, but she was beyond comfort.

The Fate watched her, waiting impassively until she cried herself out. Eventually, Meg's sobs dwindled and she sat upon the floor in silent misery. When she finally was quiet, Clotho said in a soft, persuasive voice, "I will weave you whatever fate you desire from this day forward, Meg. If you would like to remain in this time, I will make it possible for you to become a doctor. You may return to London to the hospital where you worked and forge the future you have wanted since you were a child. I will make all of that possible for you."

Meg gaped at her in astonishment. She could be a doctor-the Fate would help her to achieve her dream. It wavered in front of her, a shimmering mirage of what she had always desired. But it meant nothing to her anymore-not without John. She was in love for the first time in her life, and she knew at last what she wanted.

She gazed steadily at the Fate and said in a decisive voice, "That means nothing to me now-not without him. I belong beside him. That is where my life is now. That is where I belong."

"So, you have learned to listen to your heart," Clotho said in a tone of deep satisfaction. "As I have told you, you were not fated to stay with John Thornton when I spun your thread-that choice I left to you. However, a strange thing happened, one that I might have hoped for but did not anticipate. You and he became indispensible to each other. You became the means to not only save his life, but to spare him from a life of loneliness and melancholy. Watching the two of you, I realized that you are connected to each other. You belong together, and have done so since your rebirth. I did not weave your threads into one, but there is a bond as strong as any I have ever woven that links your souls together. When you left him, you left a part of yourself behind. And he felt the same-surely you could tell that from his journal. If your life is to be complete, you must be reunited with Mr. Thornton."

Meg felt a thrill, but moments later remembered the broken mirror. She shook her head, and waved her hands at the pieces of glass scattered about the office floor. "I have broken the mirror. I cannot return-it is impossible." Her cheeks were wet with tears.

Clotho knelt in front of her once more and brushed the tear away. "All things are possible," she replied quietly.

A sudden thought occurred to her. "Did you give me a love potion, to make me fall in love?" Meg asked suspiciously.

Clotho laughed softly. "No, my dear child, you fell in love of your own free will, the first day you saw John Thornton stride up the steps and look out over his mill. You were caught from that moment on, but my powers had nothing to do with it. Occasionally, a love so powerful and sacred will spark between two people, drawing them together and making them one. From that day forward, these lucky souls belong to each other. Their lives may not be perfect, but their love will be. You share such a love with your John. Circumstances will neither dim nor mar it, and, as such, time may not deny it. But you had to come to this realization on your own-you had to choose him for yourself."

Meg spread her hands helplessly in front of her. "That is my choice, but we are condemned to spend our lives apart! I broke the mirror," she said in a voice of despair, indicating the shattered glass surrounding them, "but even if I hadn't, I don't have his gloves! I can't return to him-I've ruined everything."

"Hush, do not cry," Clotho said in a soothing voice. She paused as Meg raised her face to hers before she said decisively, "I will send you back to John Thornton, if that is your wish."

"How-how is that possible?" Meg asked in astonishment, frozen between hope and despair.

"Am I not immortal?" Clotho asked sternly. "All things are possible for me-come, let us go." She stood and held out her hand to Meg to help her to her feet. Moving quietly, she led Meg out of the office and into the mill yard.

Meg struggled to keep up with the fast pace set by the immortal, managing to stay a few steps behind her on their journey. They moved quickly through the streets of Milton, the evening crowds parting magically in the Fate's wake. When they turned into her street in Crampton, Meg felt a moment of trepidation-were they going to her house? Would not another family live there now?

Clotho walked up the steps and, turning the knob, opened the door. She glanced over her shoulder at Meg, and said quietly, "Come, all is well." Meg obediently followed her into the darkened hallway.

The house appeared deserted; the furniture in the hallway was covered, and as they moved up the steps into the parlor, Meg noticed a chandelier in the hallway was swathed in protective cloths, and the furniture in the parlor draped in Holland cloth.

The Fate smiled mischievously at Meg, and pointed to the wall. "There is always a mirror," she replied succinctly, and Meg saw her family's mirror hanging on the parlor wall, where it had always hung.

"I-I can go through that mirror?" Meg asked breathlessly.