Residuum

by ID Johnson

  “How do you feel about going home?” he asked, not even turning to look at her since his eyes were fixated on the buildings in the distance.

  “Nervous,” she admitted. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

  “I know it will be difficult to face your mother and uncle again, but you can do it.”

  She agreed. It would likely be the hardest thing she’d ever done, but she had no choice. On top of that, she’d have to speak to Ezra again as well. She needed to know what really happened and if Charlotte was all right. The thought of what she was about to discover made her stomach tangle into knots.

  Once they reached the pier and the ship stopped moving, Charlie managed to loosen his grip on the rail and slip his arm around her. “Don’t worry, Meg. You don’t have to face those monsters on your own ever again.”

  She leaned her head into his shoulder and steeled herself for what may lie ahead, praying for the strength to bring this nightmare to an end once and for all.

  Chapter Eleven

  The motor coach Jonathan had somehow procured pulled to a stop just short of her front door, and Meg was glad to have a bit of a walk to gather her nerves. She could see the front stoop from here, the window to her bedroom that looked down on the front garden where she’d spied on Charlie the day he’d visited and decided she didn’t deserve him. Jonathan got out of the driver’s seat to come around to her side, but his hand fell short of the handle, and she was certain he would give her all the time she needed.

  Another auto parked behind them, and Meg used the mirror at the front of the vehicle to see two police officers climb from inside. One was a plainclothes detective, the sort that might investigate murders and other horrible acts; the other was in a uniform. Again, she wasn’t sure how Jonathan had managed to have the authorities meet them there, but she was glad for it.

  Meg licked her lips and took a deep breath. She looked at Charlie beside her, and he tightened his grip on her hand. He smiled at her reassuringly but said nothing, which was enough to tell her that she needn’t rush.

  Jonathan was speaking to the police officers, and Meg could only hear bits and pieces of their conversation. One of the men said they’d been here so frequently over the past month, the kindly servant woman had been keeping his favorite cakes on hand. She knew he must be referring to Tessa, and Meg realized she was the only person in the estate that she even remotely wanted to see.

  “I believe… I’m ready,” Meg said quietly.

  “Are you certain?” Charlie asked. “You can stay here as long as you like.”

  “Eventually, you’d think my mother might come out to see why there are autos parked in front of her house.”

  “And if she does, and you’re not ready to speak to her, I’ll chase her away.”

  The idea of Charlie scurrying after her mother up the front steps made her giggle, and she was thankful that he always found a way to make her feel better. “I believe it’s time.”

  “All right then,” he said, and he pushed his door open. Hearing the noise, Jonathan immediately cut off his conversation and returned his attention to Meg, opening the door for her.

  Jonathan offered his hand so that she could more easily step onto the sidewalk. “Are you ready then?” he asked.

  “As ready as I shall ever be,” Meg said, breathing in deeply through her nose.

  He nodded at her. “Miss Westmoreland, this is Officer Gordon Brown and Detective Harry Weber. They will accompany us.”

  Meg greeted the officers, who both offered pleasantries, and then she asked, “Will you arrest my uncle based on the information I’m about to provide to you?”

  Det. Weber nodded. “We actually have several warrants to serve today, Miss Westmoreland. It is our understanding that you prefer to discuss the situation with your family before we take your uncle in, but rest assured, regardless of what you do or do not say today, we will be taking him with us when we leave.”

  Meg felt relief at their words, but knowing her uncle as well as she did, she muttered, “You may need more officers.”

  “There are others on the way,” Officer Brown said in response. “We are here to speak to Ezra Bitterly as well.”

  “Now that we know for certain his story isn’t true, we need to find out what really happened to Charlotte Ross.” Det. Weber scratched the side of his ample nose.

  “Indeed,” Meg replied. “Well then, let’s have at it shall we?” A fleeting thought that she should have stayed back at the hotel with Carrie and Dr. Shaw was pushed aside as she forced herself to turn toward the only home she’d ever known.

  Charlie was standing behind her now, and with one more slow inhale, Meg took his arm. Her legs were unsteady, but she made her way to the front of the house. She paused to gaze up, thinking of the happy times she’d had here with Da, trying to block out the other times, the ones that had led them all here. Pursing her lips, she climbed the front steps, and gave two sharp raps on the door.

  She expected Tessa to open the door, but instead, the familiar face of her mother, Mildred Westmoreland, stared back at her once the heavy door was pulled open. “Mary Margaret?” she said, grasping her chest. “Oh, thank goodness. We were so worried.”

  Meg chose not to fall for her charades. She had witnessed them enough over the years. “Mother,” she said, her upper lip stiff. “Might we come in?”

  “Yes, of course,” Mildred said, stepping out of the way and making a sweeping gesture with her arm. “I wasn’t expecting you to have such an entourage.”

  “You’ve met Charlie. This is his man, Jonathan. And these two officers would like to speak to you and Uncle Bertram once we are done with our conversation. Is he home?”

  “He is,” Mildred replied, her head tipped up so that her nose was in the air. “Officers, it’s nice to see you again. Jonathan, lovely to meet you. All of you are most welcome.” Her teeth were clenched, and Meg knew she didn’t mean a word of it. As Meg followed her into the parlor, along with Charlie, Mildred added, “Your uncle isn’t feeling well. I believe he’s in his chambers.”

  The room was exactly as she recollected. It hadn’t been that long on the calendar, but it felt like years. She remembered sitting on her father’s knee before the fireplace. She remembered her mother teaching her the tango. She remembered her uncle picking her up off of the floor and carrying her up the stairs….

  “I said please have a seat, Mary Margaret,” Mildred repeated, and Charlie gently pushed her back toward one of the chairs. He took another, and her mother sat in her usual position across from them. “Are you well, child?”

  She wasn’t sure if her mother was asking because Meg hadn’t been paying attention or if it was because she hadn’t seen her since the incident, but either way, she knew the woman didn’t really care. “I’m as well as one could be, I suppose.”

  “We were so relieved to hear that you weren’t harmed, particularly when we learned of the disaster at sea. Such a tragedy. Thank God you were all safe.”

  Meg cleared her throat. “Would it be possible for Bertram to join us? I want to say what I have come to tell you only once.”

  “Well, as I said, he’s resting….”

  “Wake him,” Charlie said, and his tone was enough to make Mildred recoil slightly, something Meg didn’t think she’d ever seen before.

  “Very well,” Mildred said. “Just a moment.”

  Charlie stood as her mother rose from her chair to go find her uncle, and Meg felt ill. He reclaimed his seat as soon as it was polite to do so and rested his hand on her arm. “It will be all right, darling. You’ve nothing to be afraid of.”

  “I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to smell him. I don’t want to hear the sound of his voice.”

  “I know. It will all be over shortly.”

  There was movement in the adjoining dining room, and Meg saw the familiar skirt and apron of the lone servant who still occupied the residence. “Tessa?” she called. “Is that you?”

  “Meg!” T
essa proclaimed bounding into the room. “How are you, love?”

  “I’m well,” Meg replied, standing and wrapping her arms around the older woman. “And you?”

  “About as well as can be expected, I suppose. Your mother asked that I stay in the back.”

  “I understand,” Meg said. “I was hoping to see you, though.”

  “It’s wonderful to see you, child. You look just lovely.”

  “Thank you.” She turned to Charlie and said, “This is Tessa. She’s been here for several years.”

  “We’ve actually met,” Charlie reminded her, standing to take Tessa’s offered hand. “Nice to see you, Tessa.”

  “You as well, sir.” Returning her attention to Meg, she said, “I’m not sure what I’ll do if… well, if Mr. Westmoreland can’t keep up with the place, but God willin’ I’ll find something.”

  “Don’t you worry about that, Tessa. We’ll take care of you.”

  Tessa’s face melted. “Oh, God bless you, child.” She hugged Meg again. A noise above them made her start, and Meg knew that Bertram’s room was just over the dining room, which meant they were likely on their way down. “Take care, sweet girl.”

  “You as well,” Meg replied, squeezing Tessa’s hand one more time as she scurried off to the kitchen.

  Meg reclaimed the chair she’d been sitting in, though she knew it was her uncle’s preferred place. He’d just have to find another spot. “Why aren’t the others in here?” she whispered to Charlie.

  “I believe they wanted you to have a chance to say what you needed to in private.”

  “What if he sees them and takes off?”

  “I believe Jonathan can outrun your elderly uncle.”

  “He’s a lot spryer than you might think,” Meg reminded him. She would’ve never thought him capable of some of his most recent feats.

  Charlie took her hand, and when Meg saw her uncle enter the room, every fiber of her being cinched up tightly, as if someone were pulling at her corset strings.

  His eyes were more bloodshot than she’d ever remembered seeing them. His clothing was wrinkled, and she thought he truly must have been sleeping in it, while the gray hair atop his head looked as if it had been wetted and pressed down, likely by her mother. In all the years they had lived under the same roof, he had never said more than a few words to her outside of her own bedroom, so she steeled herself for what he might say now.

  Mildred walked in and sat across from Meg, leaving the seat across from Charlie for Bertram. He looked them over and tipped his head slightly. Meg felt Charlie’s grip tighten, and she knew he was wishing they’d brought a gun with them just as much as she was.

  “Mary Margaret,” Bertram said quietly, the sound of his voice grating through her brain like the accidental catch of a fingernail on a slate tablet.

  “Bertram,” she said, forcing the word out as if it were a curse. “This is Charles Ashton.”

  Bertram nodded at Charlie, who did not even blink in response.

  Meg cleared her throat. “I’ve come to discuss the contract with the pair of you and the legal circumstances you find yourselves in.”

  Mildred looked around, as if she wasn’t sure why Meg might imply she was in any legal trouble.

  “Accessories often go to prison, too, you know, Mother.”

  “Accessories? To what?” Mildred asked.

  Meg shook her head. “Everything. You are more than aware of every single thing that happens at Westmoreland Textiles and in this house.”

  “Mary Margaret, I assure you, there’s nothing to the accusations the banks are making. We’ve been nothing but compliant with the laws….”

  “Funny you are willing to use the word ‘we’ when you talk about compliance but it seems if the police find otherwise, you suddenly know nothing.”

  Mildred didn’t say a word. Meg supposed it was because there was nothing to say.

  “This is the situation. As you know, if I marry Charlie before my birthday, you will each receive twenty-five thousand dollars. If I wait until after my birthday, you won’t.”

  “We know,” Mildred said, quietly. “Surely, you will want to honor your father’s wishes and proceed with the contract before your birthday. That’s what he meant for you.”

  “Since when do either of you care what my father wanted for me?” Her tone was still calm, but Meg could feel the rage growing under the surface. She was thankful for Charlie’s hand or else she may have lost control of herself already.

  Mildred looked at Bertram, who was staring at the floor. Meg wondered if he’d drunk himself into oblivion so many times over the years there was nothing left in his head. “Mary Margaret,” Mildred said quietly, “I know you are upset about certain events, but I assure you, there’s no need to dwell on those things now. What’s past is past.”

  “What’s past is past?” Meg asked, struggling to keep her voice down. “No, what’s past is present, Mother. It continues to follow me around everywhere I go. Every time I close my eyes. Every time I lay my head down to sleep. You can’t honestly think that, can you? That I should simply forget what’s happened to me here?”

  As Meg’s eyes bore holes through her uncle, without looking up, he quietly said, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  She couldn’t quite believe her ears. She looked at Charlie and saw his jaw set in such a way she knew he was doing his best not to fly out of his seat and knock her uncle into the next room. “Don’t you dare!” Meg said, her tone menacing. “Don’t you dare sit there and make it seem like an accident. Like you didn’t mean to come into my room night after night to torture me, to make me feel helpless, to invade my personal space, my own body, for your own pleasure. Don’t you dare try to make it seem like you didn’t know what you were doing, like it wasn’t calculated and planned. You are the most disgusting, vile, evil creature who has ever slithered on the face of the earth, and I know I am not the only one who thinks so. I know about the other little girls you tortured under this same roof. They may not be able to gain vengeance, but I most certainly will. So help me God, you will pay for your actions if it is the last thing I ever do.”

  By the end, he was looking at her, and Meg could see the fear in his eyes. For a moment, he looked like a small child, perhaps one waiting in the dark for something sinister to sneak through the door and torment him. Meg glared at his leathery face, every ounce of rage she had stored up protruding through her searing blue eyes.

  For the first time Meg could ever remember, she heard the sound of her mother weeping. She glanced in Mildred’s direction and saw real tears rolling down her cheeks. There had been times when she’d put on a show, but this was genuine. The fact that she was crying for this horrible man, not her own little girl, made Meg even more furious. She was just about to turn her lashing to her mother when her uncle spoke, causing her to turn back in his direction.

  “Is that all?” he asked, his tone bordering between bored and unimpressed.

  Meg opened her mouth in disgust, unable to think of any words she could say to such a statement, but she didn’t have the chance. Charlie said, “I believe the officers out front will want to speak to you shortly—before they arrest you, and take you to prison, where I’m sure the other inmates will like to know that you’re a pedophile and a rapist.”

  The fear was back in Bertram’s eyes, but only for a moment. He looked just as disinterested in Charlie’s remarks as he had Meg’s. “When they are ready, I’ll be in my room.” He stood on unsteady legs and began to exit the room.

  “Bertram?” Mildred called, scooting to the edge of her chair. “Bertram?”

  “Perhaps you should follow him, let him know how horrible I am for speaking the truth,” Meg offered. “Not that you choose to recognize it as such.”

  “What do you want me to do, Mary Margaret?” Mildred asked, turning to face her daughter. “By the time I knew what was happening, it was too late. We were both reliant on your uncle, on his running of the factory, for our very lives.�
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  “That’s not true, Mother,” Meg shot back. “You had every opportunity to do something—anything—to save me, to save the other girls. You chose him over me. You never treated me like a daughter, not even when Da was still alive.”

  “Mary Margaret, of course I did,” Mildred argued. “I’ve always loved you.”

  “Then you have no idea what love is, Mother!” Meg shouted back, no longer able to keep her voice down. “You were never affectionate, never had any time for me at all. Your idea of showing you cared was to warn me not to eat too many biscuits or else I’d grow plump. The one pleasant memory I have of you was when you were teaching me to dance, and even that is tarnished by the fact that it ended with my confession about what was happening to me and you sending me sprawling across this very floor.” By the time she finished, tears were flowing down her own cheeks, which made Meg even angrier. In all these years, she’d never let her mother see her cry, and she hated the fact that she was doing it now.

  Mildred folded her arms and said nothing for a very long time as Meg swiped at her tears and Charlie offered her a handkerchief, which she took away from him a bit more violently than she intended and then had to mumble an apology, which he dismissed. They heard footsteps overhead followed by the sound of a door closing, announcing Bertram was back to his nap, and Meg was at least grateful that it would be his last under her father’s roof.

  “You’re right, Meg. I was a louse of a mother,” Mildred admitted, quietly. “I was terrible to you. I don’t suppose I set out intending for that to be the case, but it was, nevertheless. By the time you were born, I’d given up on being a mother. I’d buried so many of your siblings, I didn’t think I’d ever have a child. Then, when you lived past the lengths of your sisters’ and brothers’ short lives, I spent every day waiting. Waiting to wake up and see that you were ill or that you’d died. Obviously, you didn’t pass away, but by then, I’d put so much distance between us, it wasn’t something I could readily remedy. And I was jealous of the affection you had for your father. It all came so easy to him. So… I simply decided not to love you the way a mother should for fear you would break my heart the way the others had.”