How Far the World Will Bend

How Far the World Will Bend - Chapter 26

Chapter 26. Changing Direction in Mid-Air

As their carriage pulled into the courtyard at Marlborough Mills after the long trip home from Blackpool, Meg was startled to find Dixon awaiting her on the steps outside the house, a wide smile on her face. As John helped her from the carriage, Dixon called out, "Welcome home, Mrs. Margaret. I have something I must show you."

Mystified, Meg glanced at John, but his bland expression told her nothing. "I must go to the office for just a moment, to find out if anything pressing needs my attention," he said quietly. "Why don't you go ahead without me? I promise to come along shortly." He kissed her lightly on the lips, and walked away. She watched as he turned to go, and thought with amusement that she could see his transformation from husband to master as his expression sharpened and his strides lengthened. Master or husband, it makes no difference. I love both, she thought whimsically before turning her attention to Dixon.

Dixon led her into the house and up the stairs to the parlor door. Turning to face her with a wide smile on her face, she exclaimed, "Come see, Mrs. Meg."

Meg moved past her into the room and gazed with astonishment. By the fireplace sat the chintz chairs from her family's parlor in Crampton, along with several of the smaller pieces of well-beloved furniture. She looked at Dixon, a question on her face, and Dixon replied with great satisfaction, "Mr. Thornton left instructions for me to bring our best pieces of furniture from your home. He thought you might want some of your family's things about you."

Meg felt a lump form in her throat, and blinked back tears at the tender thoughtfulness shown by her husband. Indeed, the parlor looked less cold with some of the warm, homey furnishings from her parent's house, and she noted that several water color landscapes of which she was exceptionally fond had been hung on the walls, replacing drabber depictions of military men on horseback or still lives with fruit.

Dixon motioned for Meg to follow her upstairs to her bedroom, where she found her little vanity table, wash table, and chest of drawers, along with her mother's lovely bed with the carved pineapples as finials on the bedposts. The windows were hung with lace curtains, and her combs, brushes, and other assorted feminine objects had been carefully placed on the vanity. She stepped to the closet and found all of her gowns and garments hung on the rack, and her shoes lined up neatly. "He asked me to put what I thought you would like in your bedroom," Dixon said anxiously. "I hope you are pleased."

Unable to speak, Meg turned and hugged Dixon. "It is wonderful," she said quietly. "I feel as if I have a part of my family with me here." She looked over Dixon's shoulder and espied a large package upon her bed. "Dixon, where did that box come from?" she asked curiously.

Dixon beamed. "It arrived just yesterday! I thought it might be a present from your aunt, but I am not certain."

Meg approached the bed and pulled the parcel toward her. She deftly untied the strings and undid the wrappings. Lifting the lid from the box, she gasped in pleasure. It was a beautiful black lace mantilla, along with jeweled combs. As she lifted the delicate lace from the box, a note fell upon the floor. She stooped to retrieve it, and recognized her brother's handwriting.

"Oh, it is from Fred!" she exclaimed with pleasure. "Look how beautiful, Dixon," she said, holding out the length of lace for the servant to admire. As Dixon took the mantilla to examine and exclaim over it, Meg broke the wafer on the note and spread the paper open to read its contents:

My dearest sister,

By now, you should know that I have safely returned to Spain and have resumed my life here. I thought I had left you and Father to fend for yourselves; imagine my distress at receiving your letter telling me of Father's death. Dear sister, how do you fare by yourself in Milton? I wish that you would come to me-I am your closest relation now and well able to care for you. And you would find a loving, sympathetic heart in my Dolores. If you have not guessed, I must tell you at once-we are married. She is an angel, Margaret, and I know you will love her like a sister.