Epilogue
Margaret looked out the parlor window with her arms crossed and concern on her face. The snowfall had increased in speed and quantity over the evening with no sign of letting up and now obscured her view of the mill yard. Milton was seeing a bad winter, and for the last two days, travel in and out of the city by train or carriage had been difficult. Though it took several years, Margaret was now acclimated to Northern winters, as harsh as they were, and she usually enjoyed late evenings watching and listening to the snow fall against the windows while she curled up with a book in the study. Nevertheless, she found herself resenting the snow this evening for the trouble it was causing.
John was supposed to return from a business trip to Havre on Christmas Eve, but the trains were delayed. Now Christmas day was nearing an end, and Margaret was worried it would be the first Christmas they will have spent apart in several years after their evening locked in the storage room at the mill. Margaret's thoughts turned to the past, and she reflected on the blessings and the difficulties that had marked John and Margaret's marriage.
Despite the unusual circumstances that helped the young lovers reach an understanding, Mr. Hale gave his whole-hearted consent to the match. A date was set, and Mr. Hale seemed newly invigorated by the impending nuptials between his daughter and favorite pupil. It brought joy and a semblance of normalcy to their lives that was missing since Mrs. Hale's death. Margaret Hale became Mrs. John Thornton on a grey day in early spring, and they enjoyed a month of newlywed bliss before Mr. Hale passed unexpectedly. She often wondered how much worse the loss of her father would have been if she had to bear it alone, without John's constant presence and his tender comfort which helped Margaret navigate the tides of grief that threatened to overwhelm her.
The death of Mr. Hale began a series of misfortunes for the Thorntons. The financial difficulties facing the mill became insurmountable, and Marlborough Mills closed. Mr. Bell generously offered to allow the Thorntons to remain at the mill house, but John's pride would not allow the charity. They moved to a small apartment in Crampton, only a little larger than the one the Hales had occupied, and John found work as an overseer in a nearby town. The work was difficult and the hours long, keeping John away from his bride from early morning until the late evening.
Margaret kept herself busy. She made their new home as comfortable as possible. Margaret was resilient and economical, surprising Mrs. Thornton by running the household well on a modest income, and further raising her estimation of Margaret. Of course, there were days when Margaret was daunted by household tasks and concerned for John's frustration in his new position. But through it all, Margaret found things in life to be grateful for: the roof over their heads, their health, the pleasure of evenings spent reading together, a satisfying meal, a letter from Frederick, John's laughter. There was always a rose to be found in the hedgerows, even though some days she had to look hard.
Providence shone upon them when Margaret's godfather, Mr. Bell, bequeathed her a small fortune and extensive property before leaving to spend the end of his life abroad, and Margaret insisted on it being used to reopen the mill. Any money of hers was legally John's, but he still balked at the idea of being pulled out of this predicament by his wife. It led to the first true argument in their marriage, and the money sat unused for some time. Only when Margaret was with child did John's pride allow him to reconsider, and they reached the compromise to treat the money as a loan that he would repay.
Marlborough Mills reopened. The Thorntons moved back into the mill house, though now Margaret was given leeway to brighten the somber furnishings and décor and prepare the house for the children that would soon fill it. In addition to reopening the mill kitchen, Margaret established a school for the worker's children, and people flocked to return to work for John, the firm but fair master with a kind Southern wife. The mill thrived, Margaret and John's family grew, and their love matured and strengthened with time. And each year, they spent Christmas together as a family, the season brightened by their fondness for the special time of year that brought them together.
Mrs. Thornton appeared in the reflection of the window, disrupting Margaret's melancholy thoughts.
"He will be here," Mrs. Thornton said with her characteristic certitude, and Margaret turned to face her.
"I hope so," Margaret responded. Mrs. Thornton touched Margaret's arm, and Margaret smiled softly, comforted by the rare gesture of affection.
Her attention was drawn to the raucous laughter that was filling the parlor. The Thornton brood now consisted of George, age six, Rose, age four, and Eleanor, age two. Rose was the source of the laughter as her Aunt Watson helped her pull a Christmas cracker. Eleanor was entertaining herself by pulling the ribbons she could reach off the tree. George tried to keep up with his cousins, Thomas and John Watson, while running in and out of the parlor as they pretended to be pirates. The Christmas dinner was over, the presents opened, bedtime loomed for the children, and still there was no sign of John. Their tree remained dark, as Margaret insisted on waiting for John to light the candles.
"Come, mother, Margaret," Fanny called over to them. "Rosie wants one last carol before we take our leave, and it is getting late. You know my Watson rises early in the morning."
Margaret smiled. Fanny doted on all the children, and she invited Rose to sit next to her on the piano bench to watch her play. Watson rounded up the boys, bringing them begrudgingly to the piano. Mrs. Thornton joined them, and Fanny sat at the ready, giving a wink to Margaret. Long ago they had established the pattern of entertaining guests with Fanny at the piano and Margaret accompanying her singing, as Margaret did not play well. Margaret picked up Eleanor and then took her usual spot at Fanny's side.
Fanny struck the opening chords expressively and expertly, and the others accompanied her to varying degrees of ability.
Hark! The Herald Angels sing,
"Glory to the new-born King;
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled!"
Joyful, all ye nations, rise.
Join the triumph of the skies.
Thus, they proceeded through the song, the children becoming louder and less in tune as they went through the verses, and Margaret had to pay close attention to the pages to turn them fast enough for Fanny who was playing at a speedier tempo than the new arrangement called for. It was certainly impressive to watch. Finally, they sang the closing verse, and with a last flourish, Fanny finished. Rose and Eleanor applauded excitedly. Their applause was accompanied by the sound of much fiercer and louder applause. Surprised, Margaret turned to see John leaning against the parlor doorframe, a smile on his face, his cheeks and nose rosy from the cold.
Even after all these years, he still took her breath away.
"Papa!" yelled all three Thornton children at once. George was the first to arrive to him, and John knelt to embrace him. Rose reached him next, and he accommodated her into their hug, planting kisses on both of their foreheads and greeting them with his usual inquiries regarding their behavior and activities while he was away. Mrs. Thornton gave Margaret a satisfied look, pleased to have been correct that her son would not miss Christmas entirely, but Margaret was not paying attention to Mrs. Thornton. Instead, she walked towards John, with Eleanor reaching her arms out and trying to escape her mother to reach her father's arms.
Fanny was delighted, "Oh, John! How long were you standing there? Did you hear how marvelous it was? We could collectively use a little practice singing though. I suppose there is always next year," she shouted cheerfully.
Watson laughed good naturedly at Fanny, "Come now, Fanny, can't you see the man's busy," he teased. Fanny smiled at Watson and swatted fondly at his arm.
John had in fact not been listening to a word Fanny said, and instead was letting go of the older children so he could take Eleanor into his arms before she cried. He kissed Margaret on the cheek as he did so, and he brought his lips close to her ear.
"I am sorry to be so late. I was delayed—"
"Welcome home," Margaret interrupted, smiling brightly at him.
"Papa, you missed Christmas!" Rose chided as she wrapped her tiny arms around his leg. John made a show of looking thoroughly chastised.
"I am sorry, darling, but I did see you there with your aunt at the piano. You sang very well," John said.
"Come see my presents, Papa!" George said, pulling on John's coat to take him to where his new toy soldiers and book were.
"Come now, children, let your father settle in," Margaret said, though she was laughing and did nothing to help John disentangle himself. Despite the impediments created by George and Rose hanging onto him, John managed to reach his mother to greet her and the Watsons.
"Merry Christmas, John," Mrs. Thornton greeted.
"Tree!" Eleanor began shouting, pointing to the tree at the corner of the room. At Eleanor's reminder, all the children in the parlor started yelling, and George pulled his father towards the tree. The children had spent the day making paper ornaments and stringing popcorn garlands with the help of Mrs. Thornton and Margaret. Candles affixed on golden holders were scattered throughout the fir.
"You did not light it?" John asked, turning to Margaret. She smiled at him.
"Of course not. I wanted you to be here," she replied, touching his arm. "We can wait until you are ready. Have you eaten?" Margaret said, looking at him in concern.
"I think they'll never forgive me if I make them wait any longer," John replied, eyeing the eager children at his legs. He smiled at Margaret before handing Eleanor to Mrs. Thornton. He found the matches that were kept on the mantle. John glanced at his mother, and Mrs. Thornton gathered all her grandchildren a safe distance away, while Fanny began extinguishing the lamps around the room. John lit one candle and Margaret joined him, holding her own.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Ready," he responded, igniting her candle with his. John then began cautiously lighting candles towards the top of their tall tree, and Margaret lit candles at the bottom. With their task completed, they each stepped to a side. The only light in the room came from the soft glow of the illuminated tree, and the children quieted in awe of the sight before them.
"Lovely," Fanny sighed in contentment as she held each of her boys by the hand and admired the festive display.
"Very lovely," John agreed, but his eyes were fixated on Margaret, whose features were made even more beautiful in the candlelight. The journey home was difficult, but he had been determined not to disappoint her. To be without seeing her on this day would be too much for John, who had grown more sentimental in marriage and fatherhood. Margaret was whispering something to Eleanor, who was eager to point at the tree and giggle, so she did not notice her husband's unabashed stare at first. Then she happened to glance over their daughter's head, and her eyes met John's. They gazed at each other before they were interrupted by Watson, who announced his family really ought to be heading home.
The Thorntons bid the Watsons goodnight. Margaret reminded the children it was well past their bedtime. George and Rose protested being sent to bed, but Eleanor was already beginning to fall asleep in her grandmother's arms. Mrs. Thornton offered to put the children to sleep, much to Margaret's relief.
With the promise of a story from their grandmother if they behaved, George, Rose, and Eleanor lined up to bid their parents goodnight, receiving a kiss on the head from both Margaret and John.
"Shall we retire as well?" Margaret asked John as the children disappeared up the stairs and into the nursery. She began picking up some of the toys that lay forgotten on the ground.
"George loved the toy soldiers, and he and Fanny's boys were entertained by them for quite some time. Rose and Eleanor held onto their dolls most of the evening, so I think the gifts were a success. I would like to hear about your trip, but you must be exhausted. We can talk about it in the morning if you wish," Margaret carried on. She approached the tree with the candle snuffer in her hand.
"Margaret," John said softly.
"Yes?" she replied, but before she could turn around, she felt his arms wrap around her waist as he embraced her from behind. Margaret's hands touched his arms, and she leaned her head back into him. He planted a series of soft kisses on the nape of her neck as he nuzzled into her.
"Let's not put the candles out quite yet," he said softly.
"I'm surprised you want to keep them lit. Do you not complain every year that this is a fire hazard?" Margaret replied teasingly.
"It is," John concurred. "But you remembered to wet the tree down, and it is very festive. Let me enjoy the company of my wife in the sight of a far too expensive and dangerous tree for what's left of the night," he said. Margaret touched his cheek softly and moved her head to invite him into a kiss. He happily obliged, his arms tightening around her as his lips met hers.
They were thus happily occupied for a few delicious moments, kissing in the glow of the Christmas tree.
"I have a gift for you," John finally said between kisses.
"Oh?" Margaret responded in surprise, pulling away with her eyebrows raised at him. He let her go to reach into his coat pocket.
John held out an orange. Margaret laughed. The Milton market had been out of oranges all winter.
"Did you find this in Havre?" she asked.
"I did. I had to avoid crushing it or eating it on the way home," John said. Margaret sat on the arm of the sofa they were near and began to peel the orange. He stood in front of her, in the bell of her dress. She popped a slice into his mouth and then ate one herself. They shared the fruit in companionable silence like this, comforted by their proximity after so many days of separation.
He watched her fondly, his head tilted to the side, taking her in as he did every day, for he treated every moment with her as his Christmas miracle from all those years ago. He would never tire of looking at her. Now that he had spent years observing her, in company and privately, John knew every movement of her face, so stately and reserved on the surface, but on closer inspection he discerned the way her eyebrows would perk slightly if something was not to her taste, the crinkle in her eyebrow when she was annoyed with him, how she licked the orange juice off her fingers in the most dignified manner she could manage, the flutter of her eyelashes when she looked at him with such love and a touch of mischievousness that she had hidden well from him early in their acquaintance, the way she squeezed her eyes shut and exposed her neck when…
"John?" she asked, matching the ridiculous grin he that had formed on his face with one of her own.
"I have missed you," he said, leaning forward into her while placing one hand on either side of her. Margaret smiled, but held up her sticky hands. John offered her his handkerchief, now adorned with red and yellow roses, courtesy of Margaret.
"It was sweet of you to think of me while you were away. Thank you," she said as she cleaned her hands to her satisfaction.
"Margaret, I thought of nothing but you and the children. I will never travel during this time of year again, no matter how tempting the investor's offer," John responded. She touched his chest for a minute and stared up at him adoringly.
"I am glad you are home," she said as she reached up and carefully untied his cravat.
John, having already exhibited more restraint than he thought himself capable of, lowered his head to kiss her, his hands finding her hips through the fabric of her dress and gripping firmly to pull her closer to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, entering the now familiar, though no less thrilling, rhythm of their kiss.
Christmas was indeed Margaret and John's favorite day of the year.
John knew he should whisk her up to their bedroom sooner rather than later, but her face illuminated by candlelight warmed him better than any fire could. As he leaned further into her, a light pattering of feet reached his ear.
"Papa," came a voice from the dark hallway. Margaret gently pushed John back as he suppressed a groan. Another interrupted kiss.
Rose entered the parlor and walked towards her parents.
"What are you doing out of bed, darling?" John asked gently. He knelt and opened his arms to her, and Rose quickly leapt into them.
"Can't sleep," Rose said in a matter-of-fact tone that was identical to her mother's. John looked over Rose's head to Margaret, and Margaret smiled.
"How about if we tuck you in and stay with you until you fall asleep?" John suggested. Rose nodded and nestled herself into her father's arms. Margaret extinguished the candles on the tree one by one. John held Rose as he ascended the stairs, and Margaret followed closely behind.
The clock in the hall chimed the late hour, and another Thornton Christmas was at an end.
Author's Note: Thank you dearest readers for joining me on this journey for the past month. It's been a pleasure reading your comments and connecting with you. For most of us, this holiday season looks a lot different than it usually does. This year was difficult, and I hope this little fanfic added a some lightness to your year. I wish all of you whatever you may need right now, whether it is health, strength, peace, or some fruit. ;) Take care. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!