by ID Johnson
“I know, and no one can blame you for that.”
“Possibly. But what sort of a friend am I if I didn’t even notice that he was suffering?” He ran his hand through his hair, and Meg wished she hadn’t said anything at all.
And yet, she found herself pressing on into dangerous territory. “Charlie, I think there might be other aspects of Jonathan’s life you’re not quite seeing.”
He tilted his head to the side and looked deeply into her eyes as if he were trying to read what she was getting at. “No, I think that’s a popular myth perpetrated by servants with too much time on their hands and not enough to talk about.”
Her eyebrows arched. “What do you mean?” she asked slowly, cautiously.
“I mean… I’m not a fool, Meg. I know.”
Somehow, her eyebrows raised even higher so that she thought they might touch the combs on the back of her head. “You do?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then… why haven’t you ever said anything?”
He scoffed, the corner of his mouth crinkling up into a smirk. “Exactly what would you like me to say? ‘I’m flattered—but I love you like a brother, not like a wife?’ I mean, really, Meg, what is there to say? If you were in his position, would you want me to say anything?”
She dropped her eyes to the ground. “No, I suppose not.”
“That’s just not who I am, you know? Even if it was—which it isn’t—but if it was, I’m engaged to you. He knows that. It’s never been an option.”
Meg only nodded, understanding but not sure what to say.
“I do try to be supportive, however,” Charlie continued.
Meg looked back at him, hoping the surprise didn’t show too much on her face. “You do?”
“Yes, of course. There’ve been lots of women I’ve suggested he ask on dates over the years, even talked him into it a few times.”
Meg couldn’t catch the guffaw that escaped her lips quite in time, and Charlie looked at her as if she had insulted his mother. “I’m sorry. It’s just—you only just said that isn’t you—that you could never have those sorts of feelings for him. What makes you think he can change who he is?”
Charlie began to stammer. “I only… I mean, it’s just… well, people don’t….”
“I’m aware of what most people think, Charlie, darling, but we are not most people. We are his friends. We should love and support him no matter what. It must be an awful position to be in—to know that society thinks there’s something wrong with who you are on in the inside to the point where you feel you must hide it at all costs, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Charlie nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever stopped to think of it that way.”
“I believe a lot of people haven’t stopped to think of it that way. Perhaps instead of encouraging him to date women he’s not interested in, you should let him know that you will always accept and appreciate him no matter whom he chooses to spend his life with.”
He began to shake his head slowly from side to side, and she thought he might rebuke her, but instead, he quietly said, “You’re truly remarkable, Meg. You see people so clearly. You understand and accept others in a way I’ve never seen before.”
Meg was taken aback and literally leaned away from him. “I do?” she asked. She had never heard that about herself before.
“Yes, of course you do.”
“I don’t think so. I mean… I had no idea that Ezra would do what he did.”
“You give everyone the benefit of the doubt. You see the good in everyone. I think that’s why it surprises you to see the evil in anyone,” he continued.
“I certainly don’t see the good in my mother or uncle,” she argued.
“Unfortunately, I think that is because there’s none to be seen.”
She opened her mouth and closed it. She couldn’t think of a single word to say in response to that truth.
“I wish there’d been some way for you to let me know,” Charlie lamented.
“What’s done is done,” Meg replied, scooting back over and slipping her hand into his. “Now, all we can do is hope to get some sort of justice.”
He kissed the crown of blonde hair on her head. “We will. But not by shooting him, as tempting as that may be.”
Meg rested her head on his shoulder. She said nothing in response. She knew she wouldn’t really shoot her uncle, but she wasn’t willing to let go of the fantasy just yet.
“We should get back,” Charlie finally said. “We will need to plan the engagement announcement tomorrow, and that could be exhausting.’
“I’d like to ask Kelly over, if you don’t mind,” Meg said, tilting her head up to face him. “I think she could help. At the very least, she could keep me calm.”
“Whatever you’d like,” he said, kissing her forehead. “You know,” he continued, his voice changing just a bit, becoming softer, huskier, “Jonathan isn’t watching us. I don’t suppose Carrie or anyone else is either.”
“Are you asking for another therapy session, Mr. Ashton?” she asked, smiling coyly.
“It does seem to help.” He kissed her softly on the tip of her nose.
“I’d hate to see you suffer if I can prevent it,” she said with a sigh, and Charlie found her mouth with his. Meg lost herself in the feel of his soft lips, his hands caressing her cheek and gently brushing her hair away from her face. He was calm and reserved, though he kissed her much longer than he ever had before, and Meg realized soon enough that the true testament to her healing would come. She prayed she’d be ready, though the idea made her nervous. Nevertheless, kissing Charlie was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before, and she knew it wasn’t just his mind that was healing; her heart was as well.
Chapter Nine
Not only was Grace able to make it back in time for the proposed date Charlie had in mind for the engagement party, she made it back by mid-morning the next day to meet with Meg, Mrs. Ashton, and Kelly, along with a team of designers and other professionals Meg wasn’t quite sure she understood the purpose of. There were two older women who were to be responsible for decorations, a middle-aged man who’d be working on Meg’s gown (though he had no idea how he would manage such an extravagance on such a short timeline) and a group of chefs and bakers who would be responsible for the menu. Meg said very little, mostly listened to Grace prattle on about exactly what she envisioned. It was only when she began to talk about the number of guests that Meg found her voice.
“We can easily expect three hundred guests, possibly more,” Grace was saying, as her mother nodded along.
“Three hundred?” Meg said, her eyes as large as the dinner plates they’d already decided would be simple white china with a pink accent to match the gown and flowers. “I apologize—but I’m quite sure that’s not what Charlie and I had in mind.”
Grace looked at her as if she’d just announced the party should be held in the cellar. She cleared her throat. “We have several families who would be greatly offended not to be invited.” Her words were short and clipped, as if she assumed Meg otherwise wouldn’t understand their meaning.
“I apologize,” she said again, “but they’ll simply have to wait for the wedding. Charlie and I were thinking more like forty or fifty people, including family.”
“Forty or fifty?” Grace said. She looked at her mother and then burst into laughter. Though Pamela was trying to be more polite, she also had a small grin on her face.
“Now, Grace, let’s remember, this is Meg’s engagement celebration.”
“Yes, mother, I know. But there are certain expectations she can’t possibly understand,” Grace replied. “Charlie is an Ashton, after all.” She was looking at Meg now; of course their mother knew Charlie was an Ashton.
“We could cut the list down a bit, I suppose,” Pamela said, and Meg was thankful she was playing to the middle a bit. “Possibly—two hundred?”
Meg opened her mouth but no sound came out. It wasn’t much
of a compromise.
“If I may….” It was Kelly, and Meg could tell by her friend’s expression that she had been biting her tongue almost as long as she could handle, and a wild Irish explosion might happen at any time. “I thought the main purpose of this event was to let the papers know Meg is alive. Would it not be possible to have a small gathering for that purpose, let Charlie propose if he so chooses, and then do a larger party later—when Charlie and Meg are feeling better?”
Meg thought Grace’s looks of disdain were only reserved for her until she saw the expression the elegant brunette gave her friend. “Perhaps it would be better if the help weren’t involved in the planning.”
With one hand on Kelly’s leg to keep her from leaping off of the couch in Charlie’s sitting room and launching her petite frame across the expanse at his sister, Meg said, “Kelly isn’t the help. She’s my friend—more like my sister. She’s here because I value her opinion.”
“With all due respect,” Grace continued, “I’m not quite sure you should be here yourself. Clearly, you’re not feeling well. You should just let us handle it. Let Maurice take your measurements and then retire to your apartment.” Her voice was flat and even, each word measured, like she was weighing Meg’s value and coming up short.
“Grace,” Pamela said, an air of light in her voice, “let’s consider the suggestion.”
“What’s that mother?”
“Perhaps Mrs. O’Connell has a point. Your brother isn’t quite himself. Scaling back our plans now will also give us the opportunity to make a more splendid affair later on.”
“For the wedding,” Meg spoke up. “While I do agree with Kelly that this should be a simple get together, Charlie and I don’t want another engagement party on top of this. A simple engagement announcement, a bit of dancing and music, a lovely meal, and a few friends to enjoy the evening with—that’s what we want. For the wedding, I shall keep my opinions to myself and let you follow through with everything you’ve been planning, so long as we can simplify this event tomorrow evening.” Meg kept her tone calm. She knew she had more power in the situation than the Ashtons were willing to admit; at the end of the day, she was certain Charlie would take her side should it come to that. She hoped it wouldn’t. Hearing Kelly’s opinion made Meg bold enough to insist they see things her way this time.
“Very well then,” Pamela said with a smile of admiration. “If you’d like to limit the number of guests this time, we can rein things in a bit.”
Grace looked disgusted. “Mother?”
“Grace, honestly, you haven’t had the opportunity to visit with your brother much these past few days. If you had, you’d understand. We really need to be… considerate of his condition.”
“Mother, you’re speaking of him like he’s an invalid.”
Pamela cut her daughter off and dismissed all of the merchants and bakers from the room. “If you will wait just outside in the antechamber, I shall call you back in when we have reached an agreement.” She smiled, but it was clearly forced, and Meg watched in awe, wondering what her purpose was.
When the last of them had left, and all of the servants were out of the room as well, Mrs. Ashton looked at her daughter sternly and said, “Grace, Charlie is not quite himself.”
Grace’s nose wrinkled, and for a moment, Meg thought she might see a bit of concern. It was soon replaced with disbelief. “Mother, I’m sure he’s fine.”
“He’s not fine,” Meg interjected. “He’s not well at all.”
“And there’s a distinct possibility he may be going back to Southampton soon.”
Grace looked from her mother to Meg, her mouth agape. “Whyever would he do that?”
“My family is having some problems,” Meg explained, quietly. “I will have to go, and Charlie insists on accompanying me.”
“If he’s so ill, he can’t possibly,” Grace said, her eyes like daggers. “Can’t you go by yourself?”
“Your father offered to go, but Charlie wouldn’t hear of it,” Pamela explained.
“I don’t understand then. If he’s well enough to go to Southampton, he should be well enough to attend a ball in his honor,” the older sister insisted.
“We simply cannot overwhelm him,” Pamela said, clutching her daughter’s hand. “Grace, you know I’d like more than anything to throw Charlie a lovely, grand affair. But Meg’s right. We do need to be more sensitive to his condition. You wouldn’t want to appear in public when you were less than yourself either, I’m sure.”
“All right, whatever you’d like,” Grace said, pulling her hand away and crossing her arms, her nose in the air. Before Meg could even manage to thank her for her understanding, she turned to look at Meg and said, “I suppose we are all to consider ourselves lucky that you’ve suddenly taken an interest in Charlie when all you wanted from him for the last fifteen years was our money.”
“Grace!” Pamela shouted, her hands covering her mouth.
“I can’t blame you for saying that,” Meg said after she got over the initial shock. “But I have to tell you, that’s not true at all.”
“Certainly it is…” Grace continued.
“No, it isn’t,” Meg interrupted, her hand on Kelly again to keep her from jumping up. “I assure you, Mrs. Buckner, I wasn’t interested in Charlie at all until the tenth of April. It wasn’t until we were aboard Titanic and I saw what a kind and wonderful person your brother is that I began to realize how extremely lucky I am that my father chose so perfect a match for me, and how incredibly foolish I’d been for not seeing it before. You have every right to be angry at the way that I treated Charlie before I came to know him in person, but if he’s found a way to forgive me, I should hope that you can, too. I apologize most sincerely to you, to your entire family. But I will say, it wasn’t me who was constantly asking for money—that was my mother and uncle. And I am not like them; not at all.”
Grace’s face flickered between surprise and a fire that indicated she was ready to argue if she was able to get a word in edgewise or find fault in Meg’s declaration. Once Meg had finished, Grace only managed to say, “I suppose we shall see,” and Meg didn’t know if she was implying they would see if she meant her apology or if she wasn’t like her mother and uncle.
Kelly was fuming next to her, and Meg realized it was time to go. Unfortunately, this had not been the courteous planning session she had hoped for, but then, rarely did anything come easily in Meg’s experience. “I should like to leave the preparation to the pair of you, then, if you understand our wishes to have the number of guests limited.” She looked at Mrs. Ashton as she spoke, no longer wishing to address Grace.
“Yes, of course. You look worn. Perhaps you should retire to your room, and when Maurice is ready, we will have him escorted over to take your measurements.”
Meg nodded and thanked them before saying her goodbyes and heading for the door, Kelly on her heels. They had to slip between the waiting designers to reach the library on the other side of the house where Charlie was entertaining the girls—with Carrie’s assistance. Kelly mumbled under her breath the entire length of the hallway, most of it words Meg wouldn’t repeat in church or polite company.
As soon as she entered the library, all of the frustration melted away, and Meg stood in the doorway, gaping at the sight in front of her. Charlie sat before the unlit fireplace, Ruth poised on his knee, a picture book in front of him, and he was reading to her. The little girl giggled and pointed at the pictures, and Charlie made little animal noises to represent whatever was portrayed in each picture. Meg was reminded of a similar book Da used to read to her when she was Ruth’s age. She’d loved those moments on his lap, surrounded by his books, the smell of leather and book binding emanating from the volumes around them. Meg felt Kelly’s hand on her shoulder and knew she appreciated the scene as well.
Charlie looked up from the book first, followed by Ruth, whose face broke into a wide grin. “Mama!” she exclaimed. “Aunty Meg! You’re back so soon!”<
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“We are back early,” Meg admitted as the women crossed the room. Carrie sat in a rocking chair near the window, Lizzie on her lap. The infant cooed and waved for her mother who went to pick her up.
As Meg lifted Ruth from Charlie’s lap and hugged her, he asked, “Did everything go well?”
Meg shook her head slowly, but forced a smile, mostly because of the little girl she was holding. She could let him know what had transpired later, after little ears were gone.
“We went for a walk,” Ruth said, “and I saw all the big rooms in Uncle Charlie’s house. This will be your house soon, won’t it Aunty Meg?”
“It will,” Meg agreed, and she saw Charlie’s face light up as she said it.
“There’s a picture of horses and dogs in the dining room, a big one.”
“I know.”
“And in the hallway, there’s lots of pictures of old people.”
Meg laughed. “I know that, too.”
“But they are ‘portant.” Her face was quite sincere, and Meg couldn’t help but giggle.
“This one is gettin’ bleary-eyed,” Kelly noted crossing the room as Lizzie yawned as if to prove her mother’s point. “I suppose we should be headed back home.”
“I’ll have Bix bring the motor coach around,” Charlie said.
“I’ll get him, sir.” Carrie was out of her seat before Charlie even had the chance to stand, and Meg was thankful to have such an attentive lady in her service.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t much help in there,” Kelly said, a sympathetic look in her eyes.
“On the contrary, you were invaluable,” Meg assured her. “I never would’ve had the courage to say what I did if it weren’t for you speaking your mind first.”
“I’m afraid I just riled things up,” Kelly muttered.
“Not at all.”
“Do I even want to know?” Charlie asked, looking from one lady to the other.
“No,” they both said at the same time. Then, Meg added, “I shall let you know shortly.”
“Are we having a party tomorrow?” Ruth asked.
