Fair
Charlie
“Well, how was the ball?” Jonathan asked, handing Charlie a cup of coffee as they sat on his hotel room balcony overlooking the ocean.
“It was actually quite fun,” Charlie admitted. “That Alise Townly is a character. And the English certainly know how to throw a party.”
“That’s good to hear,” the liegeman replied. “So why the long face then? Was Miss Westmoreland not quite the beauty you had anticipated?”
Setting his coffee cup on the table between them, Charlie replied, “I wouldn’t know.”
“What’s that now?”
“She didn’t attend.”
Jonathan nearly choked on the liquid he was swallowing. “How’s that? Did you say she didn’t attend?”
“That’s correct.”
“At all?”
“Unless she came and left before I got there at nine, then I’m assuming not at all.”
Clearly puzzled, Jonathan was quiet for a moment. Charlie assumed he was wondering how this could have happened. After all, in the nearly two years that Jonathan had worked for him, almost everything had gone perfectly according to plan. It was a gift of his—he knew just how to make everything work so that Charlie was very nearly always happy, on time, and impressive. Now, Charlie was certain he was wondering where he had gone wrong. At last, Jonathan muttered, “I honestly didn’t see that coming.”
“Nor did I. After all, she sent a telegraph the day before I embarked saying how excited she was to see me. I’ve traveled all this way, and she can’t spare a few hours to attend a dance?”
Jonathan was shaking his head. “Well, at least you kept your promise to Alise. That’s something.”
“Yes, I would’ve come anyway. But the opportunity to finally meet Mary Margaret was the driving force behind this trip. She is supposed to be my wife soon—before September--and I have never even seen her in person.”
“And the last photograph you received, she looks so young, I highly doubt you’d even recognize her if you ran into her on the street,” Jonathan added.
“Indeed. I’ve half a mind to just get on the next ship and sail right back to New York.”
“You know your father would disapprove of that,” his liegeman reminded him.
Charlie sighed, knowing he was right. “I could always try again in a month or two.”
“Or you could just go to her home. Perhaps she fell ill and couldn’t send word. Or perhaps she tried but her message wasn’t delivered.”
“Or perhaps she’s joined the circus,” Charlie mumbled.
“Come now, Charlie. You may as well pay her a visit. The next ship to leave isn’t scheduled until the tenth, and we are supposed to be here nearly two weeks. You have meetings scheduled with several factory owners—including Bertram Westmoreland. You can’t just run away.”
“Run away?” Charlie echoed, a bit put out. “Jonathan, I’ve been trying with this woman practically my entire life! I stood next to my college buddy as he wed the only other woman I’ve ever had any feelings for because this was the right thing to do. She can’t even stop by and say good evening?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Jonathan assured him, patting him on the arm. “I just meant—give it another try. You’re here. You may as well.”
Charlie considered what he was saying. He did understand how much this meant to his father, and he didn’t want to let him down. If he went to visit her and was unable to see her, then he’d sort out what to do next. “Fine,” Charlie finally agreed. “I’ll pay her a visit. But if she isn’t there or can’t see me, I want to go back to New York.”
“Fair enough.”
Meg
Her body ached all over, her head throbbing with each beat of her heart, which had finally returned to normal after she came to; she wasn’t exactly sure when she had blacked out, but everything seemed fuzzy. She was certain she had seen her mother there in the doorway and that she’d done nothing to help, nothing to stop him.
There were voices downstairs. She recognized her mother’s, but she didn’t know the other one. It was a soft tenor, and though he sounded upset, there was a calmness about the way he spoke that made her feel at peace—something she wouldn’t have felt possible at this point in time.
Wanting to find out who was in her home, Meg rolled over, pain radiating through her body as she did so. She managed to sit up and then push off the bed to stand, shuffling across the floor to the radiator.
“You can imagine my consternation, Mrs. Westmoreland,” the stranger was saying. “I’ve come all this way expecting to meet your daughter, and when she wasn’t there, well, it was quite upsetting.”
“I can only imagine,” her mother said in the most sympathetic tone Meg had ever heard come out of her mouth. “I sent word with a family friend of Mary Margaret’s illness. I regret that it never reached you.”
“Mrs. Westmoreland,” the voice that must belong to Charles Ashton replied, “I would like for you to be quite frank with me. I’ve invested years of my life in courting your daughter. For years, I’ve honored my father’s agreement with your late husband, thinking only of her. Now, if you are not planning to follow through with the arrangement, please let me know. I understand you’ve dropped your lawsuit and have officially accepted that the agreement is legally binding. But if you want out… well, just say so. I will speak to my father and see if he is agreeable.”
“Mr. Ashton….”
“Charlie is fine.”
“Yes, Charlie,” her mother repeated, “I assure you that my daughter has every intention of becoming your wife. We couldn’t think of a finer young man or a finer family to join together with. Mary Margaret is a bit… frail, I’m afraid. I think she will do quite well once she reaches America. It’s only a temporary setback, I assure you. She will become your wife this summer.”
As Meg pondered her mother’s ridiculous statement that she was sickly and frail, Charles Ashton said something that made her gasp. “That’s good to hear, Mrs. Westmoreland, because I’ve envisioned your daughter as my wife for so long, I couldn’t even dream of finding another.”
Tears began to slide out of Meg’s eyes. Tears for this young man whose life she’d unknowingly ruined, tears for all that she’d suffered, tears for her father who wanted to protect her but couldn’t. How could Charlie say such a thing? If he had any idea what the woman standing above him had done, the horrible choices she’d made, he would realize that she had done them both a favor by choosing to be set free from their obligation.
She heard her mother assure him that her daughter should be well by tomorrow if he’d like to come by then, and as footsteps echoed through the parlor toward the door, Meg slowly made her way to the front window.
Pulling the curtains back just a crack, Meg peered through the rain covered glass at the front walkway. She could no longer hear anything, but she waited for just a moment as they said their respective goodbyes and then watched as Charles Ashton made his way down the path toward the street. As if he could feel her gaze, he turned and looked up at her window, and while her first instinct was to drop the curtain and hide, she couldn’t take her eyes away from him. His green eyes were beautiful, and he wore his sincere heart on his handsome face. He was tall and lean, graceful, and well-dressed. He was clearly concerned—about her, about the arrangement, about keeping his promises. And she had thrown it all away. In that instant, she both loved and hated him at the same time. Loved the promise of what they could have had together if she had only honored the agreement; hated that someone so perfect and kind could ever think that she deserved a life with him.
Meg made her way back to her bed and hid under the covers. She knew now that she could never be Mrs. Charles Ashton. She’d made at least one too many mistakes for that. Resolved to do what she must the next day, Meg finally fell asleep, dreaming of a new life, of freedom, of America.
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