Residuum

by ID Johnson

  When she was done, Meg pulled back to look at her. “Thank you, Ruthie. I will remember.” She knew she’d never used that word aloud—monster—even though she’d thought it several times since she’d entered the room. She set the little girl on the floor and spied her suspiciously for a moment. Ruth had known Titanic would sink long before it did; if she felt assured that Meg was safe, she would try to take the message to heart.

  “We’ll see you soon,” Kelly said, taking Ruth’s hand.

  They said their goodbyes, and Meg stepped out into the hall, taking Charlie’s arm. They were silent all the way to the lift, and only then did Charlie greet the operator and ask him to take them to the ground level. It wasn’t until they were outside in the fresh air that Charlie asked, “What did she whisper in your ear?”

  Meg swallowed hard. “Nothing important.” She wasn’t willing to tell him anymore about the monster just then. He kissed her hand and helped her into the car before going around to get in on the other side. Meg suddenly realized she was much more exhausted than she had noticed. She was hopeful that she could manage a nap, though there were voices in her own head now, ones she hadn’t heard for a long time—ones she’d hoped she’d never hear again. Charlie was talking, and it helped to lessen the sounds of a little girl crying and an old man’s raspy whispers, but it wasn’t enough, and she suddenly knew exactly what Charlie had been living with these past few weeks. It could only be described as pure hell.

  Chapter Seven

  Charlie’s bed was large and plush, the sort of mattress you could sink into and never be found again if you tried hard enough. The furniture was opulent—much like the dining room table—and Meg wondered at how such a humble person could sleep surrounded by such finery. Surely, he hadn’t picked this décor out himself either.

  They were both fully dressed, the only parts currently touching were her hand and his forearm, though she would admit there had been some other contact earlier before he fell asleep. Carrie was seated on a settee just outside of the door, which was open, and she stood every once in a while and poked her head in, though Meg was well aware by her crooked grin they’d picked a chaperone more partial to their side than Mrs. Ashton’s. Nevertheless, when Jonathan arrived home from work, if he knew what they were up to, they’d both be scolded unmercifully if they had no chaperone whatsoever.

  Charlie had been asleep for at least an hour now. It was difficult for her to see the clock at this angle, and she wouldn’t risk adjusting to look for fear she might wake him. As much as she would’ve liked to join him in a deep slumber, the idea that this would soon be her bedroom, that they would share it as man and wife, had her head in a tizzy, and she wasn’t able to rein in her thoughts to anything that might lead to sleep. She could see her own apartment out the back window, and it was comforting to know that Charlie could look out his window and see her, in a way, as he lay here in his bed.

  The lawyers would be there soon. She was tempted to tell them to go away, that Charlie’s rest was more important than anything they needed to discuss, but she doubted he’d sleep much longer anyway. Every once in a while, he stirred quite violently, and she questioned whether or not to wake him. Each time, she’d squeezed his arm, and he’d readjusted and gone back to sleep. She was hopeful that his dreams were not nightmares, but it was difficult to be optimistic when he began to thrash around like that.

  She’d watched him sleep frequently aboard Carpathia, but that seemed quite different. He’d been drugged at the time, and while it had been necessary to calm him, it wasn’t natural. Now, she had the pleasure of gazing at his handsome face in a natural sleep, and doing so brought a smile to her face. She really was quite lucky her father had chosen such an attractive man to be her husband.

  It was all a bit surreal, if she was honest. She knew in her heart none of it had really been due to chance. Not only was he unwilling to step aside after she’d been noncommittal for years, he’d come all the way to Southampton to see her, and even came to her house after she’d purposely stood him up at Alise’s ball. Then, they just happened to both purchase last minute tickets aboard Titanic and spot each other on board. If Ruth hadn’t picked Charlie out of the crowd and run to him when she got lost, Meg would’ve done everything she could to avoid him, since she knew exactly who he was, but he had no clue of her true identity. She attempted to evade him time and again, but he pursued her anyway. Even after he discovered the truth of who she was, and she was certain he’d never speak to her again, he’d given her another chance. Now that they were finally together, she would never do anything to lose him again. She’d acted like a fool for the last time.

  She must have been staring at him more intently than she intended because she soon realized he was looking at her, a small smile forming on his lips. “This is the most beautiful sight I’ve ever opened my eyes to,” he said, his voice raspy.

  Meg blushed. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” she asked, turning onto her side so he could hear her better with her voice still lowered.

  Charlie scooted back onto his pillows a bit so that he was sitting up slightly. “I don’t think so. I was just dreaming of you, and then I awake to find you really are here.”

  She could still feel the heat in her cheeks. “Dare I ask what you might have been dreaming?”

  His face began to match the color in hers. “Since you are a lady, I’m afraid I can’t say.”

  Meg smiled at him, contemplating leaning over and kissing him, but she knew that doing so would be very dangerous, and just as she was formulating a response, Carrie stood and stuck her head in the doorway. “I believe I hear Mr. Lane’s footsteps on the stairs,” she said in a hurried whisper.

  “It seems I’ve awoken just in time,” Charlie managed, sitting fully upright.

  Meg scooted off the edge of the bed on the side nearest the window, straightening her gown as she did so. She hadn’t even removed her boots, though her hat was hanging on a hook by the door. She decided she didn’t have time to pin it back to her head, but she could still sit it in place. “I don’t suppose you have a sitting room on this floor we can hurry to?” Meg asked as Carrie helped her with the hat.

  “We do, but I’m not overly concerned about it.” He was also fully dressed and only needed to slip on his jacket and straighten the comforter on the bed, which he did.

  Carrie had just finished with the hat and stepped back when Jonathan rounded the corner, coming to a full stop in front of the door. “What’s this now?” he asked. “Up to no good?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Meg replied, turning to face him. “Carrie has been with us the entire time.”

  Jonathan eyed her suspiciously, and Carrie managed a small smile. “I’m not quite certain that means anything,” the liegeman stated.

  While Carrie thrust out her bottom lip, as if she were greatly pained to hear that Jonathan thought her an unworthy chaperone, Charlie stepped forward and looped his arm through Meg’s. “Unfortunately, Carrie is a better chaperone than one may think.” Then, changing the subject, he asked, “Are the lawyers here then?”

  “They are. Four attorneys, stuffed in suits, in the parlor, ready to do your bidding, and offer their best advice regarding what to do about Miss Westmoreland.”

  “Well, let’s get on with it then,” Charlie suggested. “No reason to prolong the inevitable.”

  Carrie stepped out of the way so that Charlie and Meg could follow Jonathan down the hallway toward the stairwell, and then the lady-in-waiting trailed until they reached the bottom of the stairs.

  “Are you certain you’re ready for this?” Charlie asked, pausing in the foyer to turn and face her.

  Meg nodded. “I assume it’s not the most difficult task I’ll be called upon to complete in the near future.” Thoughts of what it would be like if she had to testify against her uncle in court made her stomach lurch again.

  “True,” Charlie replied with a shrug. “You are planning on marrying me.”

  That was enough to m
ake her giggle, and she playfully nudged him in the arm. “That wasn’t quite what I was referring to.”

  “Nevertheless….”

  “I’ll just wait for you here, miss,” Carrie said as she stepped out of the way.

  “You can have a seat,” Charlie informed her, gesturing toward a sitting area at the end of the hall.

  “Any questions before we enter?” Jonathan asked, looking at Meg.

  She noticed his eyes were a bit bloodshot, and she wondered if he’d also been having trouble sleeping. It would make perfect sense that he would be struggling as well. She shook her head, and the three of them made their way to the parlor.

  Meg hadn’t been in this room yet, although it resembled the library with its dark mahogany furniture and red velvet cushions on all of the seating options. There was a large table, and four men sat around it, encircled in a cloud of cigar smoke. It took them a moment to halt their conversation and notice the door was open. By then, Jonathan was most of the way across the room, Meg and Charlie just behind him.

  “Gentlemen, may I introduce Mary Margaret Westmoreland,” he said, gesturing in her direction.

  “How do you do?” Meg asked, giving a nod in their general direction.

  Jonathan continued with the introductions. “This is Tom Halsey, Charlie’s primary attorney, and these are his assistants.” Tom Halsey was a rather large man with gray hair and a protruding belly. Meg nodded directly at him. “This is David Whicksmith, Clyde Overton, and Stanley Brubaker.” Each of the men made quiet niceties as Meg looked from one to the next. Mr. Whicksmith was rather short with red hair and a kind smile, which made her instantly like him most of all, while Mr. Overton and Mr. Brubaker were taller with dark hair. Mr. Brubaker was the only one who wore spectacles, and they were quite large on his thin face.

  Charlie greeted each of the gentlemen before pulling out a chair for Meg and sitting down himself between her and Mr. Brubaker. Jonathan found a seat on the other side of the table next to Mr. Overton.

  From the head of the table, Mr. Halsey said, “Miss Westmoreland, it is our understanding that you would like to know the specificities of the contract your father put together with Mr. Ashton before his death. Is that correct?’

  “Yes,” she replied with a nod. “I’d like to know what my options are. And I’d also like to know how one best goes about letting the world know she is still alive.”

  Mr. Halsey had a stack of paperwork in front of him, and Meg wondered if one of the documents was the original contract, the one that would have her father’s very own handwriting on it. “I’m not exactly sure what you know, so I will go over the terms of the contract with you, miss. Firstly, the contract calls for you to marry Mr. Charles Ashton by your twenty-first birthday. If you do so, the sum of fifty thousand pounds will be released to your mother, Mildred Westmoreland, and to your uncle, Bertram Westmoreland. At that time, full title to your father’s company, Westmoreland Textiles, will transfer to Charlie.”

  Meg nodded. She knew that part very well.

  “Your father was quite clear that this is what he wished to have happen. Not only is it noted in the contract, but he expressed that desire to Mr. John Ashton both upon requesting the agreement and when the contract was signed.

  Meg swallowed the lump in her throat. Would her father have still wanted it to go that way if he knew what her uncle had done? How her mother had treated her?

  “Secondly, there are provisions for what must happen should you fail to marry Charlie before or during your twenty-first year.”

  “And those are?” Meg asked, though she had a bit of an idea.

  “If you do not marry Mr. Charles Ashton at all, the company becomes yours upon your thirtieth birthday, but the money will go to charity.”

  “That’s not really a concern,” Meg reminded him, and Charlie’s reassuring smile let her know he wasn’t interested in dwelling on that condition either.

  “Very well,” Mr. Halsey nodded. “If you marry Charlie after your twenty-first birthday, the money will be yours, but Charlie will still own the factory.”

  Meg looked from Charlie to Jonathan, who didn’t appear to be as interested in the discussion as she thought he would be—perhaps because he already knew all there was to know about the situation. “And what should happen if either my mother or uncle passes away or is incarcerated before we wed?”

  Mr. Halsey’s brow furrowed. He glanced down at the paperwork and back at Meg. “Well, there is a contingency within the document that says if one of them were to pass, the totality of the funding would transfer to the other. There’s no recommendation for what happens if one of them is incarcerated.”

  Charlie was looking at her curiously, too, but Meg wasn’t quite sure why. He must know the reason she’d asked the question. “Legally speaking, what might happen?”

  The confused expression still sat upon the lawyer’s face. Mr. Whicksmith spoke next, looking at Meg as he asked, “Do you fear that is a possibility, Miss Westmoreland?”

  She appreciated the fact that the attorney spoke straight to her without looking to Charlie for permission first. “I believe my uncle may be in some trouble.”

  “What sort of trouble?” Mr. Halsey asked Charlie.

  Rather than answer, he deferred to Meg, glancing in her direction to let her know he assumed she could respond for herself. “The papers are reporting he is being investigated for money laundering amongst other things.”

  The lawyers looked at one another for a few moments before Mr. Halsey cleared his throat and said, “Generally speaking, under such circumstances, a convicted criminal appoints someone to handle his finances. I would assume your uncle would choose your mother, in which case she would essentially receive all of the contracted amount.”

  Meg thought that would likely be the case, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She knew she could simply wait a bit longer before marrying Charlie so that neither of them got any of the money, but that was becoming less and less of an option with every moment she spent with Charlie.

  “What other questions did you have?” Mr. Whicksmith asked in his caring voice that made Meg feel more at ease than the tone in which the other lawyers addressed her.

  “Obviously, I am alive, while my mother and the Southampton police continue to look for me. Will I be in any sort of trouble for running away?”

  “You’re twenty, yes?” It was Mr. Brubaker this time, this being the first time he had addressed her at all. Meg nodded. “Then, by British law, you’re an adult. You can come and go as you please.”

  “The fact that your mother has sent the police off to investigate your whereabouts under false pretenses is not your doing,” Mr. Overton added.

  “There is another girl missing, though,” Meg reminded them, and all of the gentlemen nodded along, as if they were aware of Charlotte’s disappearance, which she found odd since none of them seemed to know of her uncle’s legal problems. “I feel that announcing that I am safely residing in America will give the police more information so that they can continue to search for her. Do you think I could be linked in any way to whatever has become of her?”

  “I wouldn’t worry on that,” Mr. Halsey said with a chuckle that made Meg feel as if her question was silly. “They should know you weren’t involved. They found the auto well after Titanic had set sail.”

  “That doesn’t mean that they won’t suspect I had something to do with it,” Meg reminded them.

  “Did you?”

  The question came from Mr. Overton, and Meg’s eyebrows raised in offense. “Of course not,” she replied quite quickly.

  “Then I should think you wouldn’t have anything to worry about.” He wiped his brow with a handkerchief from his breast pocket.

  “I plan to travel back to England soon, and I want to be sure that I won’t be in any sort of trouble with the law when I arrive there,” Meg further explained.

  “I can vouch for her whereabouts from the moment Titanic sailed. That should be en
ough, don’t you think?” Charlie was looking at Mr. Halsey, but all four of the lawyers nodded.

  “Miss Westmoreland, you may rest assured that you have the best legal counsel in all of New York at your service, and we work quite closely with Mr. Ashton’s attorneys in London as well. You will be fully protected.” Mr. Whicksmith smiled confidently as he looked into her eyes.

  Meg was happy to have the soft spoken man as part of the conversation, and she absently wondered how he even became a lawyer in the first place. “Thank you,” she said with a nod.

  “Is there anything else?” Mr. Halsey seemed to be in a rush.

  “As far as letting the world know that Meg was aboard Titanic and was among the survivors, how do we proceed?” Charlie asked, looking around the room.

  “I believe it would be best to make a simple statement to the newspapers. I know a reporter at The Times. He can help us put out a press release. I think mentioning it further back in the paper is the best way to go, not to aim for a headline,” Mr. Overton suggested, wiping at his brow again. Meg wondered if it was really that warm in the room or if he always had this sort of perspiration problem.

  “We certainly don’t want a headline,” Charlie agreed. “But how do we prevent that from happening? Isn’t any reporter going to jump at the opportunity to announce Miss Westmoreland was aboard Titanic?”

  “And that she’s with Charlie?” Jonathan asked, suddenly becoming part of the conversation.

  “Must I make any sort of announcement? Can’t I simply telegraph my mother and the police station in Southampton?” Meg wondered.

  “You will have to make some sort of a statement,” Mr. Halsey said, looking at her as if she’d gone half mad.

  Meg scooted her chair back a smidge so she could turn to look at him better. “Why is that exactly?”