Confession
“Turn around and let me have a look atcha,” Molly insisted.
Meg felt rather odd but complied. “Mrs. Brown,” she said as she turned back to face the woman who was studying her as if she were about to paint her portrait, “I need to speak to you before we get started. It’s a matter with quite a bit of urgency.”
“I’m sure one of them dresses Lucy gave me oughtta do nicely,” Molly muttered as if she hadn’t heard Meg’s comment. “Maybe the black one… or the red…”
“Lucy?” Meg repeated. “As in Lady Duff Gordon?”
“Oh, yes,” Molly replied. “How handy is it to have a famous dress designer on board when you have a fashion emergency?”
Meg swallowed hard. If Lucy knew she were borrowing her dress, she’d definitely want to see her in it. And then she’d certainly let everyone know who she was, which could be quite embarrassing for Charlie. “Mrs. Brown…”
“Molly…”
“Molly, it’s vitally important that we speak before this goes any further. Listen, I’m not who you think I am. Not who Charlie thinks I am. I need your help, or else this is going to be catastrophic for him, and I can’t let that happen, not again.”
She had Molly’s attention then at last. “Christine, bring us some tea,” she said to the servant girl waiting nearby. “Have a seat, honey,” she continued gesturing to the sofa, her face showing concern and suspicion.
Meg complied, and Molly sat down at the other end of the couch, a considerable space between them. “Before I tell you who I really am, I would ask that you please let me explain how all of this came to be. When I’m finished, if you don’t want to help me, I will completely understand. But please promise you will hear my story in its entirety before you toss me out.”
Molly only nodded, her expression growing more and more skeptical as Meg continued.
Meg took a deep breath, still trying to determine where to begin. Finally, she said, “I tried to explain things to him last night, but he didn’t want to hear it. I don’t want you to think that I am intentionally telling you before I tell him. I truly tried—but he said nothing before Titanic matters. I disagree. I know he will, too, once he finds out.”
“I agree—with you,” Molly said nodding. “Go on.”
“My name’s not really Meg. I mean, it is… but it’s not.” She shook her head, attempting to clear her thoughts. After a deep breath, she tried again. “It’s Mary Margaret.”
There was a moment of silence as Molly either put the pieces together or came to grips with the revelation. Eventually, she simply asked, “Westmoreland?”
“Yes.”
Molly’s expression turned to anger, her lips pierced into a thin line. Just then, the servant girl returned with the tea, and Molly gestured for her to set it on the coffee table. “I reckon you’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”
Again, Meg replied only, “Yes.”
She reached for the teapot then, pouring her own though Christine attempted to step forward to do so. Molly gestured for her to leave the room, which she did, shutting the door behind her. “How do you take your tea, Miss Westmoreland?”
“Oh, no thank…”
“Two lumps of sugar or three?”
Meg swallowed hard again at the abrasive tone. “Two, please,” she replied just above a whisper. She took the teacup, sipping it slowly before setting it back down. Molly was staring at her, waiting for an explanation, which she certainly deserved. “I don’t know how much you’re aware of…”
“Plenty.”
“All right then. I hope you can understand; my intention was never to hurt Charlie. I was only trying to get back at my mother. To get free from my mother, actually. If anything, I thought he would be just as happy as I was to be free of the burden of an arranged marriage.”
“Then you don’t know Charlie very well do you?” Molly asked, taking a rather loud slurp of her beverage.
Meg let out an audible sigh before admitting, “No, I guess I didn’t. Which is remarkable because he wrote me letter after letter over the years. Many of them, I’m afraid I didn’t even read. I just placed them in a box in my closet. I just assumed he felt the same way I did—that this was a sham meant to make our parents happy, not us.
“Of course, I was wrong. I found that out pretty quickly… once I did what I did… skipped out on the ball. I overheard the conversation from my room between my mother and Charlie. She assured him I had every intent in going through with the marriage, and he said he had considered me his wife for so long, he wouldn’t even know how to begin to look for another. I had no idea he had felt that way. And yet, even after hearing that, I still blamed him. I watched him leave that day, in the rain, from my bedroom window. I still had the opportunity to salvage our relationship. But I chose not to. Maybe, deep down inside, it was the realization that he really did want to be with me that helped me to see he deserves someone far better than I. You see, while I was in Southampton plotting my escape, he was in New York dreaming of some beautiful young woman, waiting for him, keeping herself only for him.” She stopped for a moment, glancing at Molly, whose expression hadn’t changed, and then trained her eyes on a spot on the carpet. “I wasn’t able to do that.” She glanced up again and seeing the shift in her expression, she realized Mrs. Brown thought she was saying she had always been a loose girl. She knew she would have to tell her the truth—the whole truth—if she was to salvage any respect at all. Before opening that other chapter, she continued with her point. “Charlie deserves to be with someone who is just as thoughtful and kindhearted as he is.”
“Again, I agree.” She took another sip and then asked, “So then, why are you here?”
“Because he needs to know the truth… why I did the things I did. That it wasn’t his fault I ran away from him. That he didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Well, girl, at least one of us is headed to dinner soon, so if you’re going to explain all of that to me, you best get to talkin’.”
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