Encounter

The First Class dining experience aboard the passenger liner they’d booked the next day to take them home was nothing compared to Titanic, and the ship was much smaller, which made the rocking more obvious, but as Meg sat next to Charlie at dinner, she was just happy to have him with her. She had been right in thinking he’d be more at ease on the way home.
They’d insisted on having Jonathan and Carrie accompany them, and no one had objected. Dr. Shaw belonged there with them as much as anyone else, but Meg enjoyed watching Carrie’s face as others served her for a change, and Meg thought she looked lovely in one of her gowns.
They’d spoken at great length about all that had transpired, and yet, from time to time, someone would still muse aloud, bringing the most astounding topics back to the conversation. Meg hadn’t allowed herself to shed a single tear for either Bertram or her mother, and she was hopeful that Ezra would get what he had coming to him, though he swore he was innocent.
Her uncle’s suicide note had confessed to the poisoning of Henry Westmoreland nearly fifteen years prior, and he said he’d acted alone. Meg pushed those thoughts aside and refused to take part in any discussion whenever it came up. She knew the truth—her mother had killed her father—and thanks to her uncle, she’d never pay for it. She liked to think Mildred would be tortured forever at the thought of what she’d done to her husband, but Meg knew her mother wasn’t capable of feeling regret. If she were going to feel remorseful, she would’ve done so many years ago.
“I am so glad that you got the letters,” Charlie was saying to Jonathan as the last course was presented before them. “Now, I know that they are under my control and I don’t have to worry about some newspaper grabbing hold of them and publishing the drabble I wrote when I was ten.”
“Your letters were always well-penned,” Meg disagreed, coming back to the conversation. “If I’d known you were speaking from the heart, they would’ve been much more touching.”
“How’s that now?” Carrie asked, digging into her dessert. “You thought Mr. Ashton was being dishonest?”
“Not exactly,” Meg replied, shrugging. “I suppose I just assumed he was being forced to write them and having them looked over before he sent them, just as I was.”
“Unfortunately, I cannot blame any of my prose on anyone other than myself.” Charlie took a drink of his chardonnay .
“Do you still have all of Miss Meg’s letters?” Dr. Shaw asked, clearly amused at finding out such personal information about his clients.
“I do,” Charlie nodded, “though they are not nearly as entertaining as mine, I assure you.”
“My mother read every single one of them,” Meg explained. “I had to be prim and proper. And discreet.”
“And disinterested.” He said it with a wink, but Meg felt a tinge of guilt just the same.
“I think it’s wonderful,” Carrie said, smiling.
“What, the letters or your cake?” Jonathan asked, with a cheeky smile.
“Both.” Carrie daintily wiped at the corners of her mouth. “I imagine it will be something lovely to share with your children one day. You do plan to have children, don’t you?”
“Yes, dozens,” Charlie said nodding.
With a laugh, Meg said, “Probably not that many, but yes, we should like to have some children someday.”
“I can hardly wait to see cute little Megs and Charlies running about the estate,” Carrie said with a dreamy look on her face.
“While we can name all of our daughters Meg if my beloved likes, I think our first son shall be named Henry,” Charlie said, catching Meg’s eyes.
She felt her heart melt as a smile slowly crept across her face. “I’d like that very much.”
Before they could say more, they were interrupted by a middle-aged man with wire-rimmed spectacles and patches of graying hair above his ears, the rest of his head reflecting the lights above them. He stopped next to Dr. Shaw’s seat, a taller, thinner man standing behind him. “I thought that was you, Robert,” he said, resting his hand on Dr. Shaw’s shoulder. “How are you?”
The man was rather soft-spoken and had kind eyes, Meg noted. “Dr. Morgan!” Dr. Shaw said, grasping the other man’s hand as he rose to greet him. “I had no idea you were aboard. I’m well. How are you?”
“Quite well, thank you,” Dr. Morgan replied. “I’m just returning from a trip to visit my mother in Winchester. I tried to coax her into returning with me, but she says New York is not for the faint of heart.”
They had a good chuckle, and the rest of the table joined in as well. “Dr. Laurie Morgan, let me introduce you to Charles Ashton and his wife-to-be, Mary Margaret Westmoreland.”
“How do you do?” Charlie asked, shaking the man’s hand.
“It’s lovely to meet both of you,” Dr. Morgan said, releasing Charlie’s hand to take Meg’s. She noticed his grip was rather slack and his voice gentle.
“It’s nice to meet you as well,” Meg said.
“This is my man Jonathan Lane, and Meg’s lady Carrie….”
“Boxhall,” Carrie supplied as the doctor shook her hand in turn. “How do you do?”
“This is my assistant Edward Dane,” Dr. Morgan said, and everyone said hello to him as well, though with this greeting Meg noticed a glimmer of something pass between Jonathan and this Edward fellow as he looked at each of them and gave a soft hello.
“Dr. Morgan?” Charlie repeated. “You aren’t perchance the Dr. Morgan? That is to say, Dr. Lawrence Morgan—the famed psychiatrist?”
The doctor’s face turned a bit red. “I’m not sure that’s quite the word I’d use,” he said with a shrug.
“No, I’ve been reading some of your work recently on the human brain. I find it fascinating,” Charlie continued. “Your research is compelling, particularly where it lies in contrast to the work of Freud and others.”
“The human brain is quite complex,” Dr. Morgan replied. “The way one brain responds to a particular stimulus can be quite different than another.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Charlie nodded. “I’d love to talk to you more about your findings, if you don’t mind. Do you have time?”
Dr. Morgan looked at Dr. Shaw and then back at Charlie. “Yes, of course, I don’t mind at all. If you’re sure you want to sit with a couple of doctors and listen to us ramble on in medical terminology.”
Meg noticed a brightness in Charlie’s face she hadn’t seen since before the sinking, and she couldn’t help but smile. She tried to catch Jonathan’s eye to see if he’d also noticed, but he was… preoccupied.
“Is that all right with you, Meg?”
“Absolutely,” she said quickly. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.” How lucky was she that her fiancé actually asked her permission to leave her side?
“Would you care to accompany us to the smoking lounge?” Charlie asked Dr. Morgan, who readily agreed. “Jonathan?”
It took a moment for Jonathan to realize Charlie was saying his name. “Oh, yes? What’s that now?”
Charlie’s eyebrows crinkled for a moment. “Would you mind escorting the ladies to their room?”
“I’m happy to,” Jonathan replied, rising.
Meg tried to hide her amusement. She’d never seen him disheveled before. “It was lovely to meet you, Dr. Morgan,” she said as she stood and offered her hand.
“You as well, Miss Westmoreland,” the doctor replied with a kind smile.
A few moments later, Meg had her hand on Jonathan’s arm, and he was leading her down the corridor toward her accommodations, Carrie behind them. Leaning in, she quietly asked, “Do you know him?”
Jonathan feigned innocence. “Know who?”
With a coy smile, Meg asked, “Edward, I believe he said his name was.”
“Oh, no. I don’t know him.” Meg looked at him expectantly. Jonathan’s gaze traveled from the floor in front of them to her face and then straight ahead before he added, “But I’d like to.”
She giggled. “Well, then, go back to the smoking lounge once you’ve delivered us.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know about all that, Meg….”
“Jonathan!” she said, turning to face him. “Why ever not? He was looking at you, too.”
His eyebrows raised. “Are you certain?”
“Quite.”
He tipped his head to the side, as if he would consider it, and she began to walk again. They were almost at the room, and he said nothing else in response until after he’d unlocked the door, and the ladies were inside. “Do you require anything before I depart?”
With a broad smile, Meg replied. “Only that you have a nice time.”
He blushed and said nothing more before shutting the door. Meg broke into a fit of giggles, and Carrie wrapped her arms around the blonde’s shoulders, laughing right along. “It’s just so nice to see him…”
“Flustered?” Carrie asked.
“I was going to say happy, but I suppose that’s true as well.”
Letting go, Carrie replied, “I agree. It is nice. Now, perhaps you could play matchmaker for me.”
“Matchmaker?” Meg repeated, her eyebrows raised. “I’d hardly call myself that.”
“I need all the help I can get,” Carrie replied, attempting to drop onto the settee but struggling against the confines of Meg’s gown. “It was nice to wear this lovely frock tonight and imagine, though. Perhaps I could meet a nice gentleman if I pretend to be important enough.”
“You are important,” Meg reminded her. “Besides, you don’t have to wear a nice gown to meet a proper gentleman. I met Charlie wearing clothing I’d borrowed from my lady, you know?”
Carrie nodded. “I should only hope to be half as lucky as you’ve been when it comes to love.”
Meg sat down across from her. “I have been lucky in that one area of my life, that’s very true,” she agreed. The shortcomings everywhere else seemed quite trivial when compared to meeting Charlie.