Explanation
Mildred let out a deep sigh and leaned back in her borrowed chair. Though she was still attempting to look bored and uninterested, Meg could see fear behind her eyes. “Your father and John Ashton were good friends. They were college roommates. I suppose Charles would like to meet you because his father must speak of your father often.”
“This letter says, ‘I do hope that you will write me back soon. If we are to have a future together, I should like to get to know you as soon as possible. Since you’ve not answered my first several letters, I am beginning to wonder if I’ve done something wrong.’ What is he talking about, Mother?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Mildred replied, straightening her back and looking down her nose at her daughter. “I suppose I could have your uncle look into it next time he journeys overseas….”
“You have other letters from Charles to me, don’t you, Mother?” She had to have them. Otherwise, she would not have been so upset at Sarah for giving her this one.
“No, of course….”
“Mother, lying is just as unbecoming of you as it is of me.”
Mildred’s eyes widened at her daughter’s doggedness. “Pardon?” she asked, staring her down, which was usually enough to make her flinch.
Meg felt her resolve weakening. Her mother could cause a grown man to forget himself with those icy eyes. “Mother, if there are other letters from Charles Ashton, you should give them to me. I’m not quite sure what he’s on about, but I should like to know. If the Ashton’s are so rich and famous, wouldn’t it do us some good to know them as well as possible?”
Mildred’s face softened, and Meg was surprised that her new line of questioning seemed to be working. Why her mother wouldn’t want to cooperate with a rich American family when their factory continued to lose more and more money each month was beyond her. “I do not have any such letters,” Mildred continued, clearly still being untruthful. “However, whenever your Uncle Bertram returns from work, I shall ask him if he knows anything about them. If there are more letters, I will give them to you.”
“Thank you,” Meg said, nodding. “And I should like to write Charles Ashton a letter in return. I would like for him to know I have not received any of his letters until this point so that he doesn’t think I was raised improperly.”
Again, her mother seemed to consider the request. “I suppose that makes sense.”
“I wouldn’t want him to think I was raised by a band of common thieves.”
Clearly, recognizing her own words, Mildred swallowed hard. “Very well. Write him back. But keep it light. Nothing personal. And I will read it before you send it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mother,” Meg replied, keeping her face as neutral as possible. “May I go to my room now?” she asked.
With a nod, her mother sent her out of the room, and Meg made her way back up the stairs, the letter still in her hand, the anger left behind. She only hoped her uncle wouldn’t come up with some reason to use this against her. For the most part, he had been leaving her alone lately, and she was hoping this new arrangement would continue, though the monster had visited a few times since her mother found out what he had been doing.
Kelly was waiting for her inside of her room, a worried expression on her face. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes,” Meg replied, crossing to her table and dropping the letter atop her Latin book.
“I wanted to follow you down the stairs, to see what was the matter, but I was afraid I might make it worse for both of us, especially since your mother sent Ms. Cunningham up and then I heard Sarah crying.”
“Poor Sarah,” Meg muttered as she sat down at the table. Kelly sat down beside her. “I think everything will be all right. It depends on what my uncle has to say when he gets home.”
“So you received a letter from Charlie?” Kelly asked, eyeing the parchment, though not closely enough to read it.
“Yes,” Meg answered, her eyebrow shooting up. “How do you know?”
Kelly swallowed hard, pursing her lips together as she did so. “My mother told me.”
Gasping, Meg questioned, “You knew about him? Why didn’t you tell me?” She and Kelly had grown very close since her mother had brought the young lady on, which was nearly a year ago. Meg was beginning to feel betrayed again, and this time it would be even worse because at least she expected such treatment from her mother—but not from Kelly.
“I wanted to,” Kelly began to explain, “but my mother said I should wait. She said things may have changed, and she thought I should wait and see what happened before I said anything to you. When she still worked here, your mother had already hired a lawyer, and if she had her way, perhaps the arrangement would have been dissolved.”
“What arrangement?” Meg asked, her eyes still wide.
Kelly tugged at her apron, clearly uncomfortable. “My mother said that, before your father died, he arranged for you to marry Charles Ashton.”
“What?” Meg interrupted. “Marry him?”
“Yes, that’s what she said.”
“But… why?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Kelly replied, her face showing that what she said was true. “My mother didn’t really know why, either. She just remembered there being a big to-do about it.”
Meg was dumbfounded. Why in the world would her father arrange for her to marry the son of a millionaire that she’d never met who may as well have lived on the other side of the moon?
Meg began to contemplate possible reasons, not realizing that Kelly was still talking until she was at least halfway through her sentence, “… newspapers, and he’s quite handsome.”
“What’s that?” Meg asked, returning her focus to her friend, not because of the statement but because she realized she was being rude.
“I said, ‘My mother says she’s seen his likeness in some of the high society newspapers, and he’s quite handsome. Of course, they don’t report on Americans much in the local papers, but my mother’s new employer does business in London frequently, and he knows how much my mother enjoys looking at the papers.”
“Oh,” Meg muttered. “Well, it seems to me that my mother might actually be trying to protect me for once—to give me the opportunity I deserve to properly come out and find suitors myself.” The words sounded too good to be true, even as she stated them. But otherwise, Meg could think of no reason why her mother wouldn’t jump at the chance to marry her off to some rich American. Surely, marrying into a millionaire’s family would give Meg the means to properly take care of her mother and uncle, should they play their cards right.
“I could speculate,” Kelly replied, looking down at her apron again, “but I don’t know for sure. There is something else I need to tell you….”
Before she could get the rest of it out, they heard loud footsteps on the stairs. Meg would recognize those steps anywhere, and she froze. Her heart caught in her chest and she found herself unable to draw in a deep enough breath to even remotely fill her lungs. She couldn’t help but repeat the phrase she always did when she heard those footfalls. Please keep walking. Please keep walking. She wondered how he’d managed to get in the house without her noticing. She was usually so attentive.
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