Time
It was promptly four o’clock when a knock on the door brought Meg to her feet, the butterflies in her stomach mimicking Josephine on her flying machine. She pulled the door open to find Jonathan, just as she had expected. “Good afternoon,” she said, managing a smile.
“Miss Meg,” he said, tipping his bowler hat. “I’ve come to escort you to Mrs. Molly Brown’s stateroom, if you’re ready.”
“Mr. Jonaffin!” Ruth said, tumbling down from the top bunk where she had been playing and bounding across the room, flinging herself at his knees. “I missed you! Where’s Uncle Charlie?”
Scooping her up, he replied, “He’s getting ready for dinner with Aunty Meg.”
“Oh!” She leaned over and whispered sharply into his ear, “She doesn’t remember she’s a princess. Will you help her remember?”
“Yes, sweetheart, I’ll help her,” he assured her.
She smiled sweetly as he sat her back down, and Kelly stepped over behind her. “Tell Mr. Jonathan we’ll see him later, darlin’. He has important things to do.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Jonaffin!” she said waving.
“Goodbye Miss Ruth,” he replied waving. “Are you ready then?” he asked, returning his attention to Meg.
“As ready as I shall ever be,” she nodded.
“Then, let’s go.”
Meg waved goodbye to the family, catching Kelly’s eyes for a moment before she stepped through the door, and as she was closing it behind her, the distinct sound of Ruth’s voice followed them out into the hallway, asking, “Daddy, what’s a Mary-Jane?”
Meg’s face turned bright red, but she just kept right on walking, hoping that Jonathan did not hear the question, and that if he did he didn’t associate its asking with any discussions about himself. Clearly, however, he had heard what the little one had asked and assumed his presence had prompted the inquiry. Meg could tell by the slight change in his disposition. Rather than attempt an explanation, an apology, or a weak joke about children’s antics, she chose to ignore the incident entirely.
It took a while before Jonathan said anything at all, and in a way, Meg was almost thankful for Ruth’s innocent, yet offensive, statement because it seemed to spare her at least a bit of idle chatter—or possibly intense conversation, as the case may be. Eventually, he asked, “How did you sleep last night after the festivities?”
“Well,” she assured him. “Thank you for asking. And yourself?”
“Fine,” he replied, nodding. “Did the girls let you sleep in a bit?”
“Kelly and Daniel took them to breakfast, and honestly, I slept well past noon,” she admitted.
He guided her toward the stairwell that led to the First Class section of the boat, an area she would generally not be permitted to enter under normal circumstances were she not escorted by the valet of a First Class passenger. Jonathan was actually staying in Second Class, but he was free to move between the areas as needed so that he could provide the services his employer required. Steerage passengers were more limited in their permissions to travel freely about the vessel.
“You must be quite the conversationalist, Miss Meg,” he probed as they continued to make their way to Mrs. Brown’s room. “Charlie seems quite intrigued by you.”
“Is that so?” she asked, unwilling to give him any information he hadn’t earned.
“Indeed. I trust you had some time to catch up on each other’s histories, that sort of thing, once you left the party?”
She smiled. “Mr. Lane, am I to presume that you haven’t spoken to Charlie about the content of our discussion last night? Or that you were never able to track us down after we left the dance?”
He stopped for a moment, turning to look at her, before continuing. “Are you accusing me of eavesdropping?”
“Not at all. But you wouldn’t be a very good valet if you weren’t always one step ahead of your employer. Let’s just say I am under the impression you are quite skilled at your trade, Mr. Lane.”
He smirked at her. “You’ve started calling me Mr. Lane again, and yet I still have no idea what your surname is,” he reminded her.
“And you probably know that I was more than willing to discuss it with Mr. Ashton last night, but he refused.”
They paused in front of a stateroom door, and Meg assumed they had arrived at their destination. Before he knocked, Jonathan turned to her and said quietly, “Call me what you will, I only have Charlie’s best interest at heart. You’re from Southampton. I’m sure you know—he’s been through enough. If this is a game, Miss Meg, you’d better ensure yourself to be on the losing end, or I will take care of that for you. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
He nodded and smiling politely, he rapped on the door sharply twice, and they waited briefly for it to open, an awkward silence hanging between them.
When the door finally did open, it wasn’t a servant girl, as expected, but Mrs. Brown herself. “Well, here she is!” she exclaimed, throwing the door open.
“Mrs. Margaret Brown this is… Meg,” Jonathan said by way of introduction.
“I know who she is, Jonathan,” Molly said waving a dismissive hand at him. “Better not be anybody else dropping their date off to get gussied up, or we’ll run out of time for sure. All right then, boy. You let Charlie know she’s in good hands, and we’ll see him in a couple of hours. Got it, slick?”
“Yes, madam,” Jonathan replied, giving Meg one last pointed stare before she entered the room, and Molly shut the door behind her.
“Look at you!” Molly said, taking Meg by the arms and stretching them out in front of her. “Charlie said you were beautiful, but I think he may have understated. Wish I could say I used to have a figure like yours, but that would be paintin’ a pig and calling it Petunia,” she continued.
Meg wasn’t quite used to her accent or her strange expressions, so it took her a moment to understand exactly what she was saying. She did catch the “Charlie said you were beautiful” part, which made her blush.
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