Nosy
Before Meg could reply, a woman’s voice from the other end of the table caught her attention. “Meg, where are you from? Your accent sounds familiar. Southampton?”
It was the woman who had identified herself as Mrs. Appleton. She felt Charlie tense next to her, which she thought was a bit odd, but she proceeded to answer the question the best she could without giving any contradictory information. “Yes, madam,” she replied.
“Whereabouts? Eastleigh? Chilworth?”
“Nursling, actually,” Meg answered, which was a lie. She had lived in Chilworth her whole life. This woman was good.
“Oh, I have a friend who lives in Nursling. Perhaps you’ve heard of her. Mrs. Sarah Everton?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t know her,” Meg stated, this time the truth.
“Meg, is that short for Margaret then?” the older woman pressed on.
“Well, it ain’t short for mega millionaire, I’ll tell you that,” Molly joked. “Why all the questions, Mrs. Appleton? Can’t you see the girl’s nervous?”
“There’s nothing to be nervous about. I was just trying to be polite,” Mrs. Appleton responded, an air of offense in her voice. “I just thought it might be a little ironic for Mr. Ashton to have met another Margaret so quickly, after his last engagement was broken off, that’s all.”
Before even Molly could prepare a comeback, Meg found herself saying, “Her name is Mary Margaret, I believe, not Margaret, and Mrs. Appleton, I’m afraid you’ve either been listening too intently to the rumor mills or are privy to some sort of insider information; I’m sorry to tell you that you may not know precisely what you are talking about.”
“Pardon?” the older woman asked, clearly appalled that a woman of lesser stature would address her in such a way.
“Meg, it’s okay,” Charlie was saying, his hand on her leg beneath the table.
“No, it’s not,” she replied in a sharp whisper. “She can’t say things like that and think it’s all right.”
“We warned ya yesterday, Mrs. Appleton, not to be believin’ everything you hear out of them rumor mongers,” Molly exclaimed, shaking her head.
“Are you saying then, Mrs. Brown, that all of this gossip is false and that Miss Westmoreland didn’t elope with the servant boy?”
“What she’s saying is that it’s none of your business,” Meg shot back, pulling her napkin off of her lap and setting it on the table. “Now, if the rest of you fine people will excuse me, I am in need of some fresh air.” And with that, despite not wanting to cause a scene, Meg got up from the table as quietly as she could and headed for the nearest exit, keeping her head down and a gloved hand next to her face.
She knew Charlie was probably right behind her, and when she heard footsteps, she assumed they were his. But when she heard her name being called it was in a woman’s voice, a voice she recognized. She froze, praying that when she turned around it would be only Madeline standing there.
It wasn’t.
“Meg!” Madeline Astor was saying, clearly having followed her across the room. Charlie was standing right behind her, easily within earshot. Meg was only steps away from the door. She had almost made it. “What are you doing here? We’d heard you were in Southampton—some ridiculous rumor about… well, it doesn’t matter. You are here after all.”
She watched as Charlie’s handsome face changed from confusion, to bewilderment, and then to utter outrage, all in the matter of seconds. By the time Madeline turned to address him, he was just managing to mask his emotions enough to fool her. “You must be so happy to be able to bring her out and about at last,” she continued, placing her hand lightly on his arm. “Were you ill?” she asked, turning back to Meg.
She nodded. “Yes, and in fact, I was just on my way to get some fresh air, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Yes, of course,” Madeline nodded. “I do hope you feel better soon.”
Meg didn’t acknowledge her last statement, breaking through the door and making her way as quickly as possible in borrowed shoes to the nearest railing. She leaned over, quite certain she was about to be sick, but the cold air was enough to soothe her flushed skin, and as she cooled off, she began to feel a bit better physically. She wasn’t sure she would ever recover emotionally.
She had hoped Charlie might follow her, give her a chance to explain, but she also knew standing outside the First Class Dining Hall was probably not the appropriate place to have a heated conversation. After a few moments, she decided to go back to where she belonged and headed down the closest stairwell on her way back to Steerage.
Charlie had followed Meg out into the hall but had gone no further. Madeline was looking at him expectantly, so of course he had to follow. A million thoughts were running through his mind, so many puzzle pieces suddenly clicking together, and yet there were so many unanswered questions as well. How could this have happened? How could he have been dating his own fiancée without even realizing it? As he stood in the hall attempting to recompose himself, Molly caught up to him. The expression on her face let him know she had more information than he did. “You knew?” he asked.
She nodded. “She told me this afternoon. That’s why we were late.”
He leaned back against the wall, rubbing his forehead, one arm across his chest supporting his elbow. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“When? On the stairwell?” she scoffed. “Listen, Charlie, you have every right to be angry. But this isn’t what you think. Not exactly. You need to talk to her. No, you need to listen to her.”
He shook his head. “I can’t. Not now. I don’t think you realize what she did to me, Molly. I have never been so angry—at anyone—in my entire life.”
“I understand that, darlin’. I really do,” Molly assured him. There were other people passing through the hallway now, and bearing in mind their primary objective had been to make sure Charlie was able to save face in front of his counterparts, she quietly said, “If you can’t talk to her right now, then let’s go back to your room, out of the public eye, and we’ll get this sorted out.”
Charlie highly doubted that was possible, but he also knew standing in the hall outside the dining salon was not the place to be. “Fine,” he muttered. She linked her arm through his and he silently escorted her back to his quarters, replaying every conversation he had ever had with Meg over and over in his mind as he went.
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