In Consequence

Epilogue

John sat in his shirtsleeves at the walnut secretary in the corner of the master chamber. His hand smoothed over the map that lay before him. The broad light of early afternoon illuminated the surveyor's paper as his gaze measured vale and plain still largely untouched by man’s building. Soft, low humming sounded from the bedside behind him. Well he knew that the drifting melody was meant for the babe at his wife’s breast. The gentle sound filled the room, softening the master’s tightened features and soothing the strain of anxiety that arose at the thought of his sweeping plans.

 “Oh dear, I don’t believe he will take his nap after all,” Margaret declared, punctuating her frustration with a sigh.

 Mr. Thornton’s chair scraped the floor in swift reply. He shrugged on his coat before stepping to his wife’s side. A dark-haired babe of nearly five months peered up at his mother with bright eyes, his tiny hand clutching tight to the fabric gathered at her breast.

 “No matter, give him to me.” He smiled at his son’s resistance to follow schedule as he scooped up the tiny lad.

 With the babe secure in his grasp, John bent to kiss his wife. The touch of lips, lingering and tender, banished for a delicious moment any extraneous thoughts of a world beyond and kindled the embers of the burning love constantly within. Time had not diminished the stirring thrill of claiming her as his. The strong sense of what she was to him had only grown more profound as time had passed. Motherhood had not dulled her allure but burnished her beauty into something even more vibrant and holy to him.

 Reluctantly, he rose from the bliss of the simmering contact, his gaze lingering upon the rosy blush on her porcelain cheeks as the curl of long lashes fluttered in reciprocation of feeling. She lifted eyes of absolute adoration to his a moment before glancing at the wriggling child in his grasp. 

 “I’m certain Mother will not mind caring for him,” he assured her. The proud father was convinced of his pronouncement as he admired anew the perfect beauty of the child of their love’s creation.

 Margaret admitted to herself that his judgment was very probably correct; however, she could not help feeling a pang of guilt to oblige her mother-in-law to care for the babe for several hours. If only Dixon were here! But she could not begrudge her long-time servant one afternoon of freedom from her weekly duties.  Although Dixon still sometimes grumbled about her mistress’ choice to nurse her own child and keep the baby’s crib in the master bedroom, Margaret knew the supercilious maid adored caring for her young offspring and went well beyond the tasks of a lady’s maid to also attend to the nursery. She knew, too, that the tradition-bound servant from the south had come to greatly respect her mistress' husband, despite the clash of stubborn wills that occasionally reared between them in the form of dagger-fierce looks or muttered oaths.

 Mr. Thornton paced around the room, gently pointing out to his son the objects in the room while his wife dressed for their outing. Jealous of the fleeting opportunity in which he could hold the growing infant in his arms, he knew that such moments were hallowed time that would quickly become mere memory as the months and years hastened on.

 Once Margaret was ready, John followed his wife’s descent to the drawing room, still holding the cooing baby.

 “Johnny would not sleep. I tried…” Margaret blurted in explanation as the threesome passed through the entryway into the open living space.

 “Give him to me,” Hannah directed with satisfaction, laying her embroidery aside to take her grandchild from her son. Settling the moving bundle in her arms, she was at once oblivious to all other activity as she smiled at the babe. A glow of serene contentment swept the mark of care-worn years from the widow’s face.