Foiled
John Ashton had found himself in a bit of a predicament. He had to arrange a business meeting with Dexter Townly to ensure his calendar was clear and that he would be in town. Yet, he planned to surprise Mildred Westmoreland while he was in town. Coming out and directly telling Townly that Mildred knew nothing of the visit wouldn’t do; it would seem odd and suspicious. Likewise, he couldn’t lie and say that he was certainly visiting the Westmorelands or else Townly might feel compelled to bring it up, should he see Mildred or Bertram at an event. Therefore, he decided to leave the entire topic alone and hope that everything turned out for the best in the end.
As he sat in the Townly home, Charlie at his side, across from Mr. and Mrs. Townly and their two daughters, Beatrice Townly Huxton and Alise, his mind began to wonder. He’d already met with Dexter earlier that day, and while he’d allowed Charlie to have a hand at the negotiations, which had taken slightly longer than it would have taken him to do it himself, an agreement had been reached. Mr. Townly had insisted that they return to his home to meet his family. He said that his younger daughter in particular was looking forward to meeting Charlie.
Now, he was in a rush to get over to the Westmoreland residence and see if he could catch them at home. They had only planned on being in Southampton a few days, and he realized it might take them that long to actually arrange a meeting. Something told him he may have to catch Mildred coming or going in order to find his way into her house and not be left outside on the porch again.
As if reading his mind, Mrs. Townly offered, “It’s a shame you won’t be able to see Mildred and Mary Margaret while you’re in town.”
“What’s that?” Charlie questioned, nearly choking on his tea.
“The Westmorelands,” Mrs. Townly clarified, as if she thought Charlie didn’t know who she was referring to. “They are overseas.”
Though he was shocked to hear that information, John attempted to steel himself, not wanting to look uninformed. “Yes, it was bad timing on our parts,” he managed to say.
“Mary Margaret certainly is a lovely young lady,” Mr. Townly offered. “You must be quite pleased about the engagement.”
Before Charlie or John could respond, Beatrice made a noise that could only be described as a guffaw or a cluck, and all eyes turned to her. “Pardon me,” she said.
“Are you quite all right?” her mother asked.
“Yes, of course,” she replied, setting her tea cup aside.
“She only did that because she doesn’t think you’ll actually marry her, that’s all,” Alise explained.
“Alise Constance Townly!” Dexter scolded. “Mind your manners.”
“That’s not true,” Beatrice exclaimed. “I’ve never said such a thing.”
“It’s quite all right,” Charlie replied. “I understand why you might say that.”
“Charlie…” John began.
“No, Father, it’s no secret that Mary Margaret and I have had a long distance relationship with very little contact. I can imagine it must be difficult for others to understand.”
“It’s not our place to judge,” Mrs. Townly offered, looking at both of her daughters as if she wanted to shake them.
Charlie smiled at her attempt at nicety. “Nonetheless, I understand that people are curious. You can be sure, however, my father and I both are men of our word. Mr. Westmoreland and my father had an agreement, and that agreement shall be fulfilled.”
“Well, I certainly hope you aren’t married before my coming out,” Alise began, her immaturity bubbling to the surface once again, “because I should be ever so happy to have a turn around the ballroom on your arm.”
Charlie laughed, and soon the rest of the party had joined in. “I promise you, Alise, when you have your coming out party, I shall be there. And I would be ever so honored to dance with you.” He knew she was still young and hadn’t even started finishing school yet, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he would have even met his fiancée by then. It seemed that fate was bound and determined to keep them apart. Fate—or Mildred Westmoreland.
Southampton
From the moment Meg laid eyes on Ruth Ann O’Connell, she was in love. Though she’d never spent much time thinking about what it might be like to be a mother, holding the angelic creature against her heart made her think that she would very much like to have children of her own someday. Ruth was born in the fall of 1908, and now, at nearly six months old, she was beginning to be very active. Though Mrs. Westmoreland insisted that Meg not take time away from important activities—like piano, embroidery, and socializing—she spent as much time with Ruth as she possibly could, particularly since Kelly’s duties had increased.
The staff had been cut to just Tessa and a new girl, Charlotte, who wasn’t even Meg’s age and had very little idea how to take care of a household. This left much work for Kelly and Tessa, and Meg absently wondered why Charlotte wasn’t let go, but she thought, perhaps her uncle had taken a liking to her; however, she thought Charlotte was too old for his preference, though she was nearly eighteen now, and that didn’t stop him from shadowing her door.
Mr. Bitterly still handled all of the outside work, even though he was getting up in years, and Ezra was around much more frequently now to help him. Meg did her best to ignore him; even if she wasn’t already spoken for, it would never do for her to let the servant boy know she had eyes for him. It was difficult to pull those eyes away sometimes, however, particularly if he was working in the sun, which illuminated the golden streaks in his hair and caused him to glisten like a knight in shining armor.
“Meg, are you even listening to me?” Kelly asked, taking Ruth from Meg’s arms. “I said, ‘Daniel will be home from work soon, and Tessa is almost finished with supper.’”
“Oh, yes,” Meg muttered, trying to pull her head out of the clouds. “I’ll head downstairs then.” She made one more silly face at Ruth, who laughed, and kicked her legs, and then headed down out of the attic.
Her mother had allowed Daniel to move in once Ruth was born, another shock to Meg as she didn’t think her mother could show that sort of compassion. She wondered if her mother secretly harbored some guilt about what had happened to Kelly when she’d tried to protect Meg, something her mother had never been brave enough to do.
“There’s a letter from Charlie in your room,” Kelly called after Meg as she approached the door of the small attic space that now housed an entire family.
Meg stopped for a moment before turning to acknowledge that she had heard and then headed back on her way. It had been a very long time since Charlie had written. She knew he must be upset that her mother had whisked her away to France last summer when he had come to visit. It certainly wasn’t Meg’s doing—or even her preference—but she could hardly argue with her mother. She had attempted to discuss the situation with her mother so many times, she couldn’t possibly count them, but she may as well have been speaking a foreign language because Mildred wouldn’t even acknowledge that she was talking.
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