Epilogue: A Crinkle in Time

"Christian, the children will be here any minute," Margaret Thornton called up the steps to her husband. "Are you ready?"

She heard footsteps from their bedroom above, punctuated by the slam of a door. Moments later, she watched her husband trod lightly down the stairs. She smiled up at him admiringly-despite his silver-streaked hair and the lines that creased the corners of his eyes, he was still lean and agile, well able to match his sons in tennis or any other sport-and devilishly handsome,

He wore his best worsted suit today, she noted, and a gold waistcoat and cravat. Styles may have changed, but John Christian Thornton remained loyal to the fashions of his youth.

Stopping at the foot of the steps, he smiled roguishly and struck an exaggerated pose. "Am I presentable? Is my cravat straight?"

She returned his smile. "Stop fishing for compliments-you are as handsome as the day I married you, although your cravat is a tad crooked." With a deft tweak, she straightened it. She stepped back from him, but he clasped her waist and pulled her into a close embrace.

"And you are as young and beautiful as the day we wed," he whispered softly as he nuzzled her ear. She laughed and he kissed her with relish before he continued, "Momma told me that you were the perfect woman for me-and she was right."

Margaret snorted. "It took you eight years to realize it. Grandfather told me to beware of Thornton men, and he was right."

"Nicholas thought the world of me," Christian protested hotly. "After all, he was my godfather. Don't forget, your mother loved my mother so much that she named her eldest daughter after her. With all of this history between us, it was fated that I would fall in love with and marry a Margaret, just as my father did."

Margaret smiled wryly. "Your mother saved my life and that of my mother. If she had not known how to turn a breech baby, I might not have survived."

She shivered, and he pulled her close to him, both caught up in their memories and gratitude that his mother's nursing skills had enabled her to save his wife in infancy.

Christian released Margaret, and they gazed at each other in deep affection, caught up in thoughts of their shared history. Both remembered the character that her grandfather, Nicholas Higgins, had been; and how Mary Higgins Armstrong, her mother, had remained a close and loving friend to his mother, Meg Thornton, for their entire lives. As a result, Margaret had always felt close to Christian's mother, who had become the young girl's godmother and sponsor.

It was no surprise to anyone when Margaret Armstrong went to London to study nursing. What was surprising was that she chose to return to Milton. She had had her choice of offers from hospitals in London and the surrounding environs, but her heart belonged to Milton, as she explained, and so she returned there to accept a position at the Donaldson Medical Clinic.

Christian was deeply grateful that she had done so. Although they had been acquaintances as children, meeting whenever the two families mingled at holiday dinners and parties, he had grown to admire Margaret Armstrong as a friend. When she had gone to London, he had missed her quick wit and intelligent conversation, and had felt oddly bereft.

When she returned several years later, it had been his lot to meet her at the train station, urged by his mother to do so. The moment she stepped out of the compartment, he was struck dumb at the sight of her. She was not a beautiful woman, but her face had so much character and her dark eyes were so large and brilliant that she gave the impression of beauty. He stood as dumb as a post while she stepped up to him and kissed him affectionately on the cheek. He vowed then that she would be his wife.

She had been slower to fall in love; she remembered how the girls of Milton pursued him, and how nonchalant he was about their attentions. Margaret had some serious doubts about the depth and validity of his affections for her, but his sincerity and determined pursuit soon won her over. To the delight of their mothers, they announced their engagement and married soon afterward.

After all of these years of marriage, they were as deeply in love as they had been on their wedding day. After all, as Margaret had whimsically pointed out to her husband, one had only to look at the example set by his own parents for steadfast love.

Wrapped in their memories, Margaret broke the spell first, sighing, "I wish that our Nicholas could be with us today."

"So do I," Christian replied gently, caressing his wife's face with a tender stroke of his knuckles. "But he is where he must be." They thought of their youngest son, far away in Italy where he was happily pursuing his studies in art. Their oldest, John, had been all too happy to follow his father's footsteps and work in the mill. Nick, however, was a dreamy, creative child who loved to sketch and had begged for art lessons as soon as he could hold a piece of charcoal in his hand. Christian had been concerned, but Margaret had pointed out that Nicholas was very like his Uncle Noel, and probably a throwback to his great-grandfather Richard, who had been a scholar with an interest in art.

"I know," Margaret responded after a moment's silence. "I just wish he could be here." Shaking off her brief melancholy, she exclaimed, "In any event, our guests will arrive at any moment, so I must go down to the kitchen and make sure everything is in order for our dinner."

She turned to walk away, but swung back and kissed him resoundingly before hurrying down the stairs. His laugher followed her all the way to the kitchen.

Christian walked into the parlor and gazed about nostalgically. Today was his and Margaret's twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and his sister and brother were on their way to Marlborough Mills to celebrate.

Funny, he had never thought he would be Master of Marlborough Mills-he had imagined his father living forever. Yet, he had been master of the mill for fifteen years, although it no longer made cotton but instead manufactured metalwork.

He thought of the celebratory dinner planned for that day. His eldest son, John, would join them with his wife. His sister Maria, a doctor at a London clinic, and his brother Noel, a don at Oxford, were scheduled to arrive at any moment to join in the festivities. Later that afternoon, Margaret's brother Jonas would join them with his wife and daughter. Nicholas was the only one from their extended family who could not be with them; he was in Italy painting and sculpting. Christian and Margaret had received a long, apologetic letter and a package which his mother hoped contained one of his paintings. They would miss him, but were happy that he had the chance to apprentice at a studio in Ravenna.

How blessed he was! Christian's only regret was that his parents could not be here to participate in the celebration. His eyes lifted over the mantelpiece to the portrait of his father. How distinguished he looked! The painting had been commissioned by his mother as a surprise for his Grandmother Hannah's birthday. John Thornton had been but forty years of age when Meg had forced him to sit for this portrait-"forced" because he hated the hours of confinement, where he must sit perfectly still for the artist. Meg had had to coax and charm him to do so, but Christian still remembered how thrilled his grandmother had been with the painting. It had hung in her bedroom until her death, whereupon his mother had moved it to the parlor.

His father had died over fifteen years ago, from a heart condition. He had died in his wife's arms, where he would have wanted to be as everyone remarked at the funeral. Meg Thornton had survived little more than a year after his death. Although she was younger than her husband, everyone had known that it would be impossible for her to remain behind once her husband was gone. She used to joke that when she died, she hoped that the Fates would place her in the heavens with John as a new constellation, so bright and eternal had their love been. Her children had laughed at this, but her expression was placid, as if she possessed some secret store of knowledge that they did not.

In any event, the mother who had been laughing and lovely and so full of life grew quiet upon her husband's death. She still moved with brisk energy and was a pillar of strength upon whom they all relied, but her sparkle and zest for life were gone. She smiled and listened to their cares and concerns, and dispensed the good advice upon which they all depended, but she was not the same joyous mother they remembered-the source of her joy was gone. Though they all missed her dreadfully, they could not but be happy that she was reunited with their father once more.

A noise from the hallway broke his reverie, and he turned to see his son John coming toward him, a pleased smile on his face. The two men embraced, and John exclaimed, "Happy Anniversary, Father!"

Christian thought once again that John's resemblance to his namesake was remarkable. No wonder his mother had doted upon this first grandchild. He had the same blue eyes, the same large hands, and the same long nose and charming smile as his grandfather.

"Thank you, John," Christian replied. "Where is Amy?"

"She stopped in the kitchen to see Mother. She wanted to speak with her about a case at the clinic."

Christian laughed. His wife adored her daughter-in-law; much as Meg had 'chosen' Margaret for her son, so had Margaret chosen Amy for John. The young woman had come to Milton when her maiden aunt had died and left her large, rambling home to her niece. Amy was a nurse, and had come to see Margaret at the Donaldson Clinic to find if they required her assistance. The two women had become fast friends, and Margaret had determinedly placed Amy under John's nose every chance that she had. Inevitably, John opened his eyes one day and determined that he preferred red hair to blonde, snub noses to patrician, and freckles to flawless skin. They were married a year later.

"Father," John asked hesitantly, "I thought that while we were waiting for Aunt Maria and Uncle Noel to arrive that I might hunt in the attic for my old cradle. Amy would like to have it for our first child." His face shone with pride at the thought of his impending fatherhood.

"Of course, John," Christian replied at once, touched by the notion. "But do not bother with the attic-we moved a number of pieces of furniture to the lumber room at the mill." Reaching into his pocket, he extracted a large key. "You can unlock the door with this. Yours and Nicholas' old cradle, which was mine as well as your aunt's and uncle's, should be up there along with various other pieces of furniture from the nursery and some of the other rooms. I believe some of your Great-Grandmother Hannah's furnishings are stored there as well. You are welcome to whatever you can find that still may have some use in it."

John nodded in satisfaction. "Thank you, sir," he replied and departed with a quick step for the mill.

Christian pulled out the pocket watch which had been his father's and consulted the time before moving purposefully toward the front door and out into the courtyard. Perhaps he might have a few moments to read his correspondence-it seemed to double on his desk overnight. Although John was now the Master of Marlborough Mills, Christian still handled the books and kept a hand in the workings of the mill. He and John rubbed along well-he was careful not to tell his son how to run the business, but made himself available if he had questions or concerns, just as his father had before him.

As he reached the mill door, a carriage turned the corner and entered the courtyard. He thrust his quick flash of impatience behind him-work could certainly wait until later. Today was a day of celebration. He walked toward the carriage, his pace quickening as he saw the occupants-it was his brother and sister.

Before he could reach the door, it was thrust open, and an attractive woman of indeterminate age emerged. She was dressed in the latest fashion, and her face was youthful, the only sign of her age being the smile lines etched along the corners of her eyes and the edges of her mouth. Her dark hair was streaked with silver, but otherwise she might have passed for twenty years younger, given her slim figure and erect bearing. Her brilliant blue eyes lit with amusement when she spied her brother, and she flung herself into his arms. "Chris," she cried joyfully, as if it had been ages since they had seen each other rather than six months.

As he clasped her to him, Christian watched over her shoulder as another figure descended from the carriage and cast him a broad smile. His brother Noel was ten years his junior, but the two brothers were close in temperament, if not appearance. Whereas Christian and his sister took after their father, Noel favored his mother, having the same soft auburn hair and misplaced dimple in his cheek. Seeing his brother again, Christian felt a rush of love for the younger brother who reminded him so much of their mother.

Noel patiently waited for Maria to conclude her effusive greetings before he stepped forward to clasp his brother in a hearty hug. "Congratulations, Chris," he said.

"Noel," Christian exclaimed, "how good it is to see you-what has it been, two years? Three? However did you manage to tear yourself away from Oxford?"

Noel smiled wryly at his sister. "Maria swooped down on me, termagant that she is. She forced me to pack my bag, and well nigh kidnapped me."

Maria sniffed. "Well, someone needed to pry you away from those fusty old books. If I had not hurried you along, you would still be searching for that edition of Euripides that you were mumbling about when I arrived."

Christian laughed again. "Some things never change! Please, come inside." He gestured with his arm and followed them up the stairs of their childhood home and into the parlor, where Margaret and Amy awaited them with open arms. Everyone spoke at once in their excitement to be together again, for not only was Margaret their sister-in-law, but had been a childhood playmate to Maria and a kind friend to Noel.

When Noel had been introduced to Amy and everyone had settled comfortably in the parlor, Maria asked, "Where are Nicholas and John?"

"Nick is still in Italy, studying painting. John is here, but he has gone over to the mill in search of his childhood cradle," Christian explained. "He and Amy are expecting their first child."

Maria and Noel offered heartfelt congratulations, as Amy blushed with pleasure.

"Tell me, Maria, how is the new clinic progressing in London?" Margaret asked eagerly, causing her husband to laugh at her single-minded interest in all things medicinal. As Maria brought everyone up to date on her activities, Christian smiled affectionately at his sister, who had become a doctor, thereby living out a cherished dream of their mother's.

When she had been a young woman, Momma had dreamed of becoming a doctor, although she was always quick to explain that her nursing was enough of a challenge to keep her busy. Momma had never wanted Father to fear that he had stood in the way of her dream, her children remembered. She was adamant that it had been her choice to remain a nurse, and they believed her, given the way she felt about their Father.

Maria was an excellent doctor, well able to hold her own among her male colleagues. She had married and been widowed at a relatively young age, with a young daughter. She had chosen not to remarry but to devote herself to medicine. She was involved in several exciting developments in anesthesia and immunization, and had pursued medicine while raising her daughter who was now married and living in Switzerland. Maria was a lovely, modest woman who downplayed her accomplishments; she was more proud of the fact that she played the violin in an amateur orchestra on weekends.

Christian's gaze moved from Maria to Noel, and his features clouded. Whereas Maria had married, Noel had remained single, though not by choice. When he had been a young man, he fell deeply in love with a woman he had met at a party. To the consternation of his parents, he had intended to marry her as soon as possible, forgoing his education. His mother and father had spoken with him about perhaps waiting awhile, but he had been adamant-he and Caroline belonged together, just as John and Meg had. He would not be swayed, and his parents reluctantly agreed to the engagement.

Several weeks before their marriage, however, the young couple's happiness was dashed when Caroline became the victim of a tragic accident. While she stood on the platform at Outwood Station, awaiting a train to take her to London to visit family, a fight had broken out on the platform among several young ruffians. In the pandemonium that had ensued, Caroline had been shoved forward. Losing her balance, she had fallen upon the tracks, dashing her head against a stone. She had died that same night, the victim of a cerebral hemorrhage.

Noel had closeted himself within his room, refusing to speak to anyone about what had happened, not even his mother with whom he was closest. He had remained in his room for several days, refusing food or beverage or human companionship. When he finally emerged, he was calm and composed, ready to make decisions about his life. He informed his parents that he would attend Oxford after all, and would leave as soon as he possibly could arrange to go.

When the time came for him to depart, his mother had presented him with the keys to Mr. Bell's rooms in Oxford. She had purchased the property for sentimental reasons when he had first announced his intention to go to Oxford. She told Noel that his Grandfather Hale had died there, and had gone on to explain that it was there that she had realized how deeply she was in love with John Thornton.

"When he came to pay his respects and comforted me on my loss, I knew then how much I loved him." She had turned to gaze at her husband as she said this, and the look they exchanged bespoke the remarkable bond between them. Momma had gone on to say that she knew that her father and Mr. Bell would have been extremely proud of Noel's academic accomplishments, and would have encouraged him to follow in their footsteps.

"And perhaps you will find someone you can love again," she had added quietly, her voice breaking. With clear, dry eyes, Noel had kissed her gently on the forehead, but said nothing. He considered that chapter of his life over.

"Now, tell the truth, Christian," Maria declared in a wry voice, bringing her brother back to the present moment. "When you ventured outside your home just now, you were on your way to the factory to check on your orders, were you not?" The boyish grin she received in response to her impertinent question touched her heart; her older brother, no matter his age, would always be the handsome idol of her childhood.

"Yes," Christian responded sheepishly, "I was going over to the mill-and I am headed there now. Would you like to accompany me?"

Neither Maria nor Noel had the affection for the mill that their brother did, despite their father's love of its workings; however, they both loved Christian and knew the correct response.

"Of course!" exclaimed Maria at the same time Noel enthused, "Absolutely!"