Attack
Southampton
April 8, 1912
Meg
“Miss? Miss? Get up!”
Meg felt the jostling but could hardly pry her eyes open. Where was she? What time was it? Who was shaking her? After another hard jerk, she opened her eyes, and realized it was Charlotte.
“Miss, your mother is asking to see you in the parlor,” the younger woman exclaimed. “She’s quite put out. Hurry! You should dress.”
It took Meg a moment to realize that she was still in her room—but that she shouldn’t be. A glance at the clock on the wall showed her it was half past nine.
Ezra had never come.
Her mother knew.
Charlotte scurried about the room, grabbing clothing items, hurrying her to take her night clothing off, and forcing her undergarments and gown on. She tossed some slippers in Meg’s direction and then, before Meg could even stand, threw herself on the bed and began to pull her hair up into a bun.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen her work so quickly or so hard, Meg thought. She, on the other hand, was in no hurry at all. She was quite certain her mother would end her the second she walked into the parlor.
“All right. Go,” Charlotte ordered as she finished with her hair.
Meg thought she should grab her pocket book from the night before. She had about one hundred pounds inside, which she planned to use for her trip. She’d given some money to Daniel the day before to purchase their tickets. Other than the money she had in the bank, that was all the cash she had in the house, and if she decided to run away from her mother, she might need it.
“Hurry!” Charlotte insisted, and since Meg didn’t see the bag anywhere, she decided to go. What were the chances she would actually take off? Surely, her mother would just scold her and send her to her room.
She took the steps slowly, noticing that Charlotte did not follow. Once she reached the parlor, she found her mother and uncle seated there. A noise from the adjoining room caught her attention, and she caught a glimpse of golden blond hair and wondered if he had come to defend her or if her mother realized what had happened and had brought him in to punish him as well.
Having Ezra nearby gave her strength, so, as she stood before them, Meg held her head high. “You wanted to see me, Mother?”
“Mary Margaret,” Mildred began, “how was the ball?”
She knew her mother well enough not to fall for her bait. “I’m not sure, Mother. Did Mrs. Donaldson report to you this morning? Or someone else?”
Mildred stood, crossing the two feet between them rapidly. “Mary Margaret Westmoreland, where were you last night? Why did you not attend Miss Townly’s ball?”
“I didn’t feel well,” Meg replied, keeping her chin up.
“That is an outright lie! Charles Ashton came all this way to meet you, and you stood him up! Do you have any idea how insulting that is?”
Meg could hold back her anger no longer. “Oh, no! What if that means he breaks of the engagement, and you can no longer blackmail him for his money?”
“How dare you!” Mildred spat, her hands turning into fists. “After all I’ve done for you—we’ve done for you. You insolent child!”
“Done for me? You’ve done nothing for me, Mother! The only person you ever think about is yourself. And I won’t have it anymore! I’m leaving!”
Meg turned to walk away, but her mother caught her arm. “You’re not going anywhere, young lady, except for back to your room. I expect Mr. Ashton will show up here soon, and when he does, you will apologize!”
“No, I won’t mother! I won’t apologize, and I won’t marry him!” Meg spat, pulling her arm away.
“Oh, yes you will,” her mother said, her voice gravelly and deep, each word calculated. “You will do exactly as I tell you.”
Though she was surprised her uncle had been quiet so far, Meg saw him leaning forward in his seat and knew that, if she tried to get past him to the dining room, where Ezra still stood, he would grab her. She was wondering why Ezra had not stepped in yet. Perhaps he needed a cue. “No I won’t mother! I love Ezra, and we’re going to leave this place and start over together!”
“Ezra?” her mother asked, her eyes widening.
Meg still stared at her defiantly. Only the sound of her uncle standing nearby drew her attention away, and her mother used that flicker of a distraction to strike. The first blow hit Meg right in the cheekbone, the clasp on her mother’s ring tearing into her skin near her temple. Gasping in shock, Meg lost her balance and nearly fell, but just as she caught herself, her mother struck again. She slapped her so many times, Meg quickly lost count, and once she stumbled into the wall behind her, and began to sink to the floor, Mildred finally let up.
“Is that where you were last night? With the gardener? You ungrateful little bitch!”
“Ezra!” Meg began to scream. “Ezra! Help!” Her head was ringing and her face stung and her head felt fuzzy. Why wasn’t he coming to help her?
Before Meg even realized what was happening, she found herself being hoisted into the air, rough hands tossing her over a boney shoulder as insults and accusations filled with curses littered the air.
Her uncle’s arm had her pinned so that her own gown was a prison. She couldn’t break free from him. Though he was old, he was spry and strong, and he managed to haul her up the stairs, even though she struggled against him, all the while screaming for help. But no help came, and once she was on her bed, Meg realized that this monster attack would be different and the most terrifying of all.
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