by ID Johnson
“How very sad,” Pamela replied, but Mr. Ashton looked at her long and hard, as if he saw something familiar in her face.
“Would it be possible for Charlie and me to speak in private for just a few moments?” Meg asked, not sure how to best explain the situation to them but seeing that their time was limited by the expression in the eyes of her father’s former roommate.
“Certainly,” Pamela said. “We are happy to step out for a moment.”
As she and Mr. Ashton rose, Peter following, Grace lingered on the chair briefly. Peter offered his hand, and she pulled herself up, muttering, “My brother has only just returned from the dead, but why not? Take your time.”
“Grace,” Pamela said sharply, under her breath, as she took her daughter’s arm, “give them a moment.” She looked over her shoulder and offered Meg a smile, as if she was apologizing for her daughter’s rudeness, but Meg honestly didn’t care at the moment. She was certain Grace would hate her even more once she knew who she really was, especially if she knew what she had done to Charlie before they left Southampton.
Jonathan was the last to stand, and before he went to follow the family out the door, he said, “Now is as good a time as any.”
Meg nodded in agreement, knowing fully what he meant. If they were going to be honest with Charlie’s family, they needed to do so now. He went out and closed the mahogany doors behind him, careful to keep it as quiet as possible when they came together.
She wanted to see Charlie properly, but as he was mostly facing the fire, the angle of her chair was wrong, so she scooted it around, minding the legs of the chair on the wooden floor. Once she was seated as near to him as possible, her knees brushed up against the side of his leg beneath the heavy blanket, she let go a sigh of relief.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he said, reaching for her hand, and Meg gave it to him. “How are you really doing this morning?”
She couldn’t help but smile at him. His hand was much warmer now than it had been for days. The tips of his fingers were rough in spots where they’d suffered frostbite, but she was glad to see they were healing. “I’m managing,” she admitted with a shrug. “It’s nice to see you know who I am today.”
Charlie’s green eyes grew wide for a moment. “What does that mean?” he asked.
Meg exhaled deeply through her nose. She’d done this same song and dance more times than she could count, and since she’d brought the topic up, she knew she'd have to say more, but she was determined not to go into a lot of detail because it always upset him to learn that he didn’t know who she was. “There were times, before, when we were on Carpathia, that you didn’t remember me.”
His eyebrows grew close together. “You don’t say? Is that so?”
“Yes, but I suppose it doesn’t matter now.” She was reluctant to tell him the same thing had happened just yesterday at the hospital. She determined it would be best to leave that out altogether.
He squeezed her hand gently. “Well, I certainly know who you are now.” With his free hand, he reached over and stroked her cheek, brushing one of the curls framing her face back behind her ear. “I suppose my parents should also know.”
“Yes, I suppose they should,” she agreed. She took his hand in hers as he brought it back down so that she was holding both of them. “But I wasn’t sure what to say in order to make them understand why I did the things I did.” Meg’s eyes shifted from his face to the glowing fire next to them. Its flames were licking the top of the brick enclosure, and she began to notice just how warm the room was. “I’m not sure they can understand why I made the choices I made.”
“Leave that to me,” Charlie assured her. “They don’t need to know everything.”
Meg’s eyes fell on his again. “You don’t think just knowing who I am will make them angry?”
“Why would it? They have no idea you didn’t attend the ball, though I can tell them any reason I like to explain why you weren’t there if you prefer. They certainly don’t know anything about that yard boy. I’m certain they suspect your mother and uncle were anything but loving, though they don’t know about… the things that you went through.”
She was happy he chose those words. There were other words he could’ve spoken instead that made her feel like a victim, and even though that might be the case, she hated to feel that way. And she nearly chuckled when she referred to Ezra as “that yard boy.” That’s truly all he ever was. Part of her wished he’d been aboard Titanic so she could watch him freeze to death in the water, though that was a part of her she wasn’t happy to acknowledge. “All right then,” she agreed. “I just wanted to make sure that you were ready to tell them and that you’re certain they’ll be accepting of me.”
“I know they will,” he assured her.
“Also, they must know they cannot tell my mother. We need to decide what to do about that. Jonathan has just informed me about the money my mother and uncle will receive if we marry before I’m twenty-one.”
Charlie nodded. “Which is in September.”
She smiled, glad he remembered even that small detail. “Yes, and I’m not sure I like the idea of that money going to such horrible people.”
He nodded again.
“On the other hand, I’m not sure I want to wait until October to marry you.”
Charlie’s face brightened, and he brought both of his hands up to cup her chin and cheeks. “I’m so glad to hear you say that, Meg. I wasn’t sure how you’d feel now, especially since… I’m not quite myself.”
She placed her hands on the outside of his. “You will be. Soon enough. I’m sure of it.” She smiled at him and brought his hands back down to her lap, still holding them. Thoughts that she was wrong—that he would never be himself again, that she would never be herself again—fought to the surface, but she kicked them back to the recesses of her mind, next to the box that housed her uncle. “Shall I go get them then?”
“Not yet,” Charlie said quietly. “There’s just one more thing.” He let go of her hands to place his fingers on the tips of the armrests and carefully pushed himself forward so that he was leaning in toward her. Meg could see it took a considerable amount of effort, and she wished she could help him. “I love you, Meg,” he said quietly.
She realized what it was that he wanted, though he couldn’t let go of the chair and stay so near to her. “I love you, too,” she replied, meaning it with all of her heart, despite the transformation they’d both recently undergone. She rested her hands on the sides of his handsome face and pressed her lips against his. His lips were warm, much more so than they had been the last time she’d kissed him aboard Carpathia, and she could’ve allowed herself to melt into him if there hadn’t been a sound at the door that caught her attention.
Meg began to pull back, but Charlie caught her lips again with his one last time, causing them both to giggle, and the familiar clearing of a throat finally convinced her to turn her head.
Jonathan looked amused, though he stood near the door with his hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets. “Are you done with your discussion then?” he asked.
“No,” Charlie replied, a smirk on his face. “We’ve only just begun our discussion. Tell the rest of them to come back in half an hour.”
“Charlie?” Meg laughed.
“All right then, make it an hour.”
She was happy to see him returning to his former self. “You can let them in,” Meg said to Jonathan, and Charlie leaned back in his seat, a sigh of rejection filling the library as he did so.
“You really are a bit ridiculous, aren’t you?” Meg asked as she stood to turn her chair back around just a bit.
“Are you only just now discovering this?” he asked as she found her place on the edge of the chair. “Give me back your hand.”
She raised her eyebrows at the command but appreciated the voracity by which he longed to touch her, and she slipped her hand into his where it lay between them on the armrest.
The family walked in, dis
cussing what the newspapers were saying about the sinking, and Meg tuned them out. She had no interest whatsoever in learning the misinformation being spread across the world as if it were fact.
“Charlie, you’ve got some color in your cheeks,” Pamela noted as she returned to her spot on the sofa. A small smile played at the corners of her mouth as if she thought she could guess why that might be.
“Meg’s presence always makes me feel better,” Charlie assured her. Grace let out a small scoffing snicker and was met by another sharp look from her mother. Charlie either didn’t notice or didn’t care to acknowledge it. “We actually have some information we’d like to share with you, but first we want to caution you that what we are about to tell you cannot leave this room.”
“My god! Is she carrying your child?” Grace leaned forward in her seat so far, Meg thought she might tumble to the floor.
“Heavens, no!” Charlie shot back, before Meg even had the chance to gasp or faint or be properly offended. “Grace, will you please straighten up. You’re embarrassing all of us.”
Grace’s cheeks were bright red, and she opened her mouth as if she might say something in return, but then she snapped it shut, and Meg wondered if Charlie hadn’t recently died if she might feel differently about arguing with him.
“I know that you all think you have an idea who Meg is, but you don’t really know for sure, and we want to clear that up,” Charlie continued once Grace seemed calm. He looked at Meg, as if he were inquiring as to whether or not he should continue or if she would like to.
As easy as it would’ve been to sit there and listen to him completely tell the tale, only nodding along when she felt it necessary, Meg took a deep breath, and turning to look directly at Mr. Ashton, she said, “I’m Henry’s daughter. I’m Mary Margaret.”
The older gentlemen’s eyes grew only slightly, and he gave a little nod, as if he recognized her. He had seen her before, though it had been well over a decade, and she had been a small child. Still, Meg knew she looked at least a little like her father, and that may have been one of the reasons he suspected.
The only audible noise came from Grace, whose gasp gave away the fact that she’d had no idea.
“I didn’t want anyone to know I was aboard Titanic. I was running away from my family. My mother and uncle have been quite abusive…. I’d prefer they didn’t know where I am.”
“And that’s your reason for using an assumed name?” Pamela asked, a small smile of understanding on her kind face.
“Yes,” Meg confirmed. “I went aboard Titanic under a false name, and when they asked for my name for the list, Daniel, my lady’s husband, gave them a different assumed name, but still not my own. Only Madeline Astor, Molly Brown, and possibly Lucy Duff-Gordon know that I was aboard Titanic, and I’m hoping that none of them will say anything to my mother.”
“Where does your mother think you are?” The question came from Peter, who was staring at her intently.
Meg wasn’t sure if she could trust Peter or Grace, but she had no choice at this point. “They think that I ran away.”
“They have no idea that she is with me,” Charlie replied. “When I last left their home, they had called the police, thinking she had been abducted.”
“That’s terrible,” Grace exclaimed.
Meg wondered if she meant it was terrible that her mother thought she was abducted or that she was lying to her only surviving parent. “It’s better this way,” Meg replied, averting her eyes to the fine oriental rug beneath her feet that stretched across the room and ended beneath the sofa.
“Did you help devise this plan?” Mr. Ashton asked his son.
“No, I didn’t. But once I became aware of it, and especially when I knew what Meg had suffered, I went along with it. And I will continue to go along with it for as long as she asks me to. I would hope that all of you will also.”
“Yes, of course,” Pamela answered first. The rest of them nodded and verbally said that they would, though Meg still wasn’t sure whether or not Grace could ever take her part.
The room was silent for a long moment before Pamela spoke again. “Well, Mary Margaret—may I call you Meg?” She nodded. “Meg, it is so very nice to meet you at last.”
“Your father was a fine fellow. In fact, quite possibly the finest fellow I’ve ever met,” Mr. Ashton assured her.
“Yes, I was always quite fond of Henry,” Pamela agreed.
“Thank you,” Meg replied. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, but she did her best to hold them back. She hated for others to see her cry.
“I’m sure you miss him terribly.” Grace was staring at her with only a hint of sympathy in her voice, and Meg thought perhaps she was attempting to see how far she could be pushed to make the tears come out.
“I do miss him. Every day.”
Charlie cleared his throat. “We will need to speak with the lawyers to see what needs to be done now to prevent Mr. and Mrs. Westmoreland from receiving the money. If it’s possible to keep Meg’s identity a secret and avoid them getting the money, then that’s what we want to do.”
“But Charlie, I promised Henry I’d see to it that the pair of you were married before she turned twenty-one so that Mildred would get the funds he had left for her,” Mr. Ashton insisted.
“I understand that, Father,” Charlie nodded, straightening up just a bit in his chair, “but if you had any idea all that Meg has gone through these past several years, you wouldn’t want them to receive it either. They honestly don’t deserve a dime, and I wish I hadn’t sent them any money the last few times they forced Meg to ask for it.”
Meg glanced at him, wanting to tell him it had been that money that kept her lights on and food on the table, but now wasn’t the time, and he probably assumed her mother had spent it on superfluous items. While that was certainly the case with some of it, not all of it had been used unwisely.
“We don’t need to discuss any of that right now,” Pamela said with a smile. She patted her husband on the knee. “Charlie, have you thought about where Meg will be staying until the wedding?”
Meg had been wondering the same thing herself, and her eyebrows arched as she turned to face her fiancé.
“I’ve given it plenty of thought but don’t necessarily have an answer,” he admitted. “There are options. We could rent an apartment nearby.”
“Ooh, there’s a cute townhome for lease over by the factory,” Grace chimed in.
Charlie looked at her for only a moment before saying, “I don’t think she wants to live by the factory.”
“Is that near Kelly?” Meg asked, leaning in toward his ear.
“It is, but it isn’t that close to here, and since I likely won’t be back to the factory for a month or two, I’d rather have you nearer to me.” His voice was quiet, as if they were sharing a secret others could hear only if they strained to, and Meg felt the heat rising in her face again, like he was sharing an intimacy with her.
“She could stay in the carriage house apartment, and I could move in here for a bit,” Jonathan said with a shrug. “That way she’s nearby, but your parents wouldn’t have to be concerned about a lack of chaperone.”
“That is awfully close,” Pamela pointed out with raised eyebrows.
“You can’t beat Jonathan as a chaperone,” Mr. Ashton assured her.
Meg had no idea how she would feel staying so close to Charlie, but she didn’t want to impose on Jonathan. “I can’t take your apartment, Jonathan. That seems very improper.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, waving her off. “I’m hardly there anyway. Most of the time I’m here or at work—with the factory being my primary location.”
“It’s true,” Charlie agreed.
“Then it’s settled,” Pamela said, her shoulders relaxing a bit as if she’d just solved one of the world’s greatest problems. “Meg will move into the carriage house.”
Meg desperately wanted to call it something else--anything else.
&n
bsp; “Now, will your lady be returning to your side, or will you need to keep Carrie?”
The question was another good one. “If you say Kelly’s new home is far away, then it wouldn’t be easy for her to attend to me here. And, I believe she was planning on staying home with the girls.” She was looking at Charlie, but she would’ve accepted a response from anyone.
“I plan to give Daniel that foreman’s position that just opened up,” Charlie said to his father. “His arm is currently in a cast, but he’s a fine young man, and I know he will be able to do the work.”
Mr. Ashton nodded. “Of course, I trust your judgment.”
“That position will come with an apartment, and he will make enough so that Kelly can stay home,” Charlie explained to Meg.
“Very good then,” Pamela stated. “That solves that. I’ll let Carrie know.”
“But wouldn’t you rather I found my own help?” Meg asked. “That is, Carrie works for you, doesn’t she?”
“She does, but when I hired her, I had you in mind. I thought you might need someone when you came here. I didn’t know if you’d bring your own girls or not. Carrie is just right for a young woman like you, I think. Wouldn’t you agree?”
It had never occurred to Meg that while she was in Southampton planning to escape her marriage to Charlie, he and his family were in New York City making arrangements and accommodations for her. “Yes, she’s lovely,” Meg said quietly.
“Originally, we’d assumed you’d simply stay in a hotel for a few days if the wedding were here in New York and then move straight into this home. But now that you are here, and we don’t know precisely when the wedding might be, we’ll make adjustments.” She exhaled loudly with a smile, as if she were breathing out after stopping to smell the roses.
“I appreciate all of your assistance, and your understanding,” Meg said meekly.
“Absolutely,” Mr. Ashton assured her. “Henry was my greatest friend, and you were—are—his pride and joy. Anything I can do to assist you, I will do.”