How Far the World Will Bend

How Far the World Will Bend - Chapter 21

Chapter 21. Looking Glass Insects

Meg hit the floor with a thump that jarred her from head to toe. Oh, I remember this, she thought weakly, struggling against the darkness that threatened to engulf her. She sat up gingerly and rubbed her head-it felt as if she had struck it upon something coming through the mirror. Looking down, she saw that she was wearing the clothes she had worn in 1920-the expertly tailored navy suit, the pert hat with a veil, and the fashionable kidskin gloves. Mr. Thornton's gloves were nowhere to be seen. She looked frantically about for them, but she was unable to find them.

Gazing about the room, she was surprised to find she was in the same office, but it was greatly changed. Granted, it was the same office with the windows looking out onto the mill yard. But the desk was clean and free of the clutter of papers she remembered, and where books and ledgers had lined the bookshelves, boxes and parcels now stood on the shelves, and the floors were lined with more boxes and piles of goods marked with various addresses. She stood up carefully, pleased to find she felt neither nauseous nor dizzy.

A sudden thought occurred to her and she stepped eagerly to the mirror, thinking that perhaps she might see Mr. Thornton on the other side. To her disappointment, she found only her own reflection looking back. Saddened, she turned and walked over to the desk. She spotted a ledger, and pulled it toward her. It was dated November 15, 1920. Meg pushed the ledger away from her, as if it had burned her. How could it be? She had been in Milton for two years. How could she have returned the same day as she had originally departed?

"What are you doing in here, Miss?" a rough voice said from behind her, and she spun about in fright. A plump older man stood in the doorway, dressed in the clothes from her time. She heaved a sigh of relief-it had worked! She was back to her time. Yet, things were not the same.

"I'm sorry," she said in a soft voice, "I was looking for the owner and wandered in here by mistake."

The man laughed. "The owner lives in London, miss. He never comes here."

Meg looked confused. "Does he not have to manage his mill and keep an eye on what goes on here?"

"Mill? This is not a mill," the man said in amusement. "This hasn't been a mill for twenty year now."

"What happened," she asked anxiously, dreading the answer.

The man shrugged. "Cotton industry dried up. Most of the owners closed up shop, or went into other industries. No, this hasn't been a mill since Mr. Thornton died."

Meg choked with grief. She had known that he would, in all probability, not live another sixty years, but she still felt awash in heartache to hear of his passing. She gathered her scattered thoughts together and asked, "How about his sons or daughters? Do they not own this place?"

"Are you speaking of John Thornton? He had no sons or daughters, miss," the man said, looking at her curiously. "He never married."

She staggered and caught herself. "Never married?" she asked in a high, strange voice.

The stranger shook his head. "No, ma'am-he remained a bachelor his entire life. I remember Mr. Thornton from when I was a lad-he was a nice old chap."

Meg felt a wave of surprise flood over her, swiftly followed by irrational anger. What had happened? He was destined for Ann Latimer-why did he not marry her? She had told him she was leaving him so that he might find a wife worthy of his position in society, and he had remained a bachelor his entire life? Her eyes flashed to the mirror, as if she could upbraid him for his pigheadedness; moments later, she remembered the words he has passionately spoken to her-I have found the only woman I will ever love-and felt stunned that he had remained true to their love.