Ruined
“What do you mean you think I should go talk to her? Are you mad? You of all people should know everything I’ve been through. The last thing I need to do is go talk to her!”
“Well, no, not right now,” Jonathan admitted. He had only been in Charlie’s stateroom for a few minutes, but he had easily ascertained that his friend was hammered, a rarity. “Right now, what you need to do is put that bottle of Jameson down and go sleep this one off.”
“You don’t understand, Jonathan. She. Lied. To. Me. Again!” He was standing on the outside deck, bottle in one hand, glass in the other, his shirt mostly unbuttoned, shoes off, still in his suit pants, and Jonathan was doing his best to ensure he kept his voice low enough that the other First Class passengers nearby in their staterooms couldn’t hear him.
“Why don’t you come inside, and we’ll talk about it in there?” he asked for about the tenth time since his arrival.
“Nope. Huh uh. I paid for this deck, and goddammit, I’m gonna use it,” he replied dropping into a chair and taking a swig directly out of the whiskey bottle.
“Fine, then I’ll sit right next to you so that you don’t have to yell. How’s that?” Jonathan asked, taking a seat.
“Fine. But I don’t want to talk about it. Not now. I’m done talking about it.”
“That’s fine. We don’t have to…”
“To hell with her, whatever the… hell her name is… Mary Margaret Meg Westmoreland—West whore land…”
“Charlie…”
“Don’t defend her. You always defend her!” Charlie said, pointing a finger at him, despite the fact that he was still holding the empty glass in the same hand.
“I’m not,” Jonathan assured him. “I’m not defending her. I’m just saying you don’t want the other passengers to hear you calling her names, that’s all.”
“What other passengers?” Charlie said rather loudly. “Look around! We’re alone!”
“There are other passengers in the cabins next to us, above us, and below us, Charlie. Come on, you know that. And we need to make sure none of them have any suspicions that the rumors they are hearing are true. So, again, why don’t we come inside, get some sleep, and we’ll talk about it in the morning, all right?”
“What about the deck?”
“The deck will still be here in the morning. We’ll be in this ship for at least another four days. So, come on now,” he said, pulling Charlie up by the arms. This time, Charlie was actually compliant, surprisingly, and he was able to get him within a few steps of the door before he pulled away and approached the railing. Sighing, Jonathan asked, “What are you doing now?”
“This glass will not be making the journey to New York City,” he explained before pitching it off the side of the Titanic far out into open sea.
“You are so odd when you’re drunk,” Jonathan muttered. “Fair enough. Now come on before you fall overboard yourself. I’m sure that water is quite cold. Let’s not find out.”
* * *
Meg had hardly slept at all the night of April 13. She began to drift off a few times, but each time she did so, memories of what had transpired between herself and Charlie came flooding back to her. She replayed conversations in her mind, memories of his touch, his kisses, and then that myriad of expressions on his face when he realized her betrayal for the second time. She had no way of knowing what had transpired between Jonathan and Charlie last night, if Molly was able to delay the rumor mills, or if she had ended up ruining his reputation once and for all. And the only way she would find out is if someone came to tell her. She planned to follow Jonathan’s advice to a T, vowing not to even leave her cabin unless it was to speak to Charlie.
So, when the rest of the family went out for breakfast, she stayed behind. She had carefully folded the dress she had borrowed from Lady Lucy Duff Gordon, the shoes, jewelry, and all of the other pieces, and stowed them beneath her bed wrapped in an extra blanket so that Ruth or Lizzy wouldn’t want to touch them. Dressed in a Third Class skirt and shirtwaist she had borrowed from Kelly before they left Southampton, she began to wonder exactly who she was again. Switching from First Class to Third and back again was taxing, as was the pressure of knowing some of the ships passengers knew her true identity while others did not. Perhaps it was best that she would not be interacting with many people. Who knows what she might end up saying?
She had only a few moments to talk to Kelly that morning before she left with Daniel and the girls for breakfast. She had asked how it went, and Meg simply shook her head. “He found out then?” Kelly clarified.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Madeline.”
“I see. And?”
“I left. I haven’t spoken to him. I’m sure he doesn’t want to speak to me at all, but should he change his mind, he knows where to find me.”
“I’m so sorry, Meg,” she had said, giving her friend a quick hug before leaving with a promise of bringing her some toast and fruit when they returned.
In the meantime, Meg was left with very little to do except to try to read her book and push thoughts of Charles Ashton out of her head.
* * *
It was past noon when Charlie finally awoke, and he wasn’t sure which was more painful, the pounding in his head or the ache in his heart. One reminded him of the other, and for a very brief moment, he contemplated a quick splash over the side of the deck to put himself out of this misery. He knew that wasn’t really an option, however, and when he finally managed to open one eye, he was relieved to see that Jonathan had at least set some aspirin and water on his nightstand. It wouldn’t do much for his head, and nothing at all for his heart, but it was a start.
After downing the pills and hiding his head under the pillow for a few more moments, he finally managed to pull himself out of bed and stumble to the bathroom. His room was only one of four on the entire ship with a private bathroom, and today he was very thankful he had paid the extra money to have such facilities nearby. It wouldn’t do for the rest of the First Class passengers to see how completely hung-over he was.
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