Carrie
Jonathan’s voice was quiet and calm. Meg had known he wouldn’t let her slip away, that he’d notice before she could even get through the door. “I… I was trying to get out of the way.”
He knew it wasn’t the truth, yet he said nothing. “I think it would be best if you did as Mrs. Ashton suggested and went with Carrie to the hotel. She’s been a lady-in-waiting for years. She’ll be able to attend to your needs and can help you find proper attire tomorrow. When you are dressed like yourself again, I’m sure you’ll feel much better.”
She felt no need to attempt an explanation regarding the fact that she was currently unsure whether she was Mary Margaret Westmoreland, wealthy heir to the Westmoreland Textile Factory, or Meg West, Third Class Passenger. It was late. They were exhausted. She nodded.
“Do you want me to tell them who you are?” It was a whisper in her ear so close she could smell the mint on his breath.
“No,” she said quickly. “I want you to tell Charlie who I am, though.”
He let out a short sigh, and she wondered if he was exasperated at her, at Charlie, or at having to rehash the entire situation once again. “I will,” he promised, and she believed him.
“I think Charlie and I should tell them ourselves, but not until he remembers… obviously.”
“That makes sense.”
“Do you think that will make them angry?”
“No. Nothing makes them angry.”
“What are you two whispering about over there?”
It was Grace, Charlie’s older sister, the one who looked at Meg as if she wasn’t sure to use one dagger or two. “Nothing,” Jonathan called with a smile. “I was only explaining to Meg that Carrie would be taking her over to the hotel now. She’s a bit apprehensive, as you can imagine, this being her first trip to New York City and having absolutely nothing of her own with her.”
Grace pursed her lips together. “That does sound dreadful. It’s a shame you lost all of your gowns and jewels aboard the ship.”
For a moment, Meg thought of the dress she’d borrowed from Lucy Duff-Gordon, just a few nights ago, to wear to dinner. It had been exquisite, as had been the jewels she’d borrowed from Molly Brown. Both women had been aboard Carpathia, but she hadn’t had much of a chance to speak to Molly, and Lucy knew who she really was, so only a fleeting glance had passed between them. Meg brought herself back to the hospital. “There were many others who lost so much more than I,” she said, her voice low and calm.
Grace nodded, and Meg felt as if perhaps she had just passed some sort of a test.
“Carrie, if you would,” Jonathan said, gesturing in Meg’s direction as he gave her a slight push in the back, enough to start her feet moving. “Meg, I will be by tomorrow to check on you and bring you back to the hospital if Charlie is still here.”
She nodded at him over her shoulder. “Thank you, Jonathan.” Carrie looked kind enough and was smiling at her, so Meg decided to go with her, even though part of her still wanted to try for the exit unaccompanied again. “It was lovely meeting you,” she said to Grace and Peter as she approached.
Grace nodded and said, “Likewise,” without much of a smile, but Peter climbed to his feet and took her hand again. For a moment, Meg thought he might kiss it, but he didn’t, and he mentioned he felt charmed to make her acquaintance. Meg wondered how starved for attention he might act when she didn’t have a bird’s nest for hair.
Meg had never been to a hospital before, so she tried not to stare as nurses and doctors made their way past. The lower levels seemed particularly busy, and when they neared a pool of blood on the floor, some poor soul in an orderly uniform attempting to clean it up, she felt her stomach tighten a bit. “Sorry you had to see that, miss,” Carrie said as she steered Meg toward the exit. “You’ve already been through so much.”
She said nothing, only followed behind, and once she was standing outside on the large steps leading to the hospital, the fresh April air hitting her in the face, Meg felt relief. Even though it was still city air, it smelled a thousand times better than the stench of the hospital, the stagnant Third Class air, or even the fog she was used to at home.
Despite the fact that it was late, there were still lots of people milling about, and Meg realized she could quickly become lost in the crowd if she wanted to. She didn’t dart off, though. She followed Carrie through the throng. Pieces of overheard conversation let her know that some of these people had come to this hospital thinking their loved ones might somehow be inside. Meg hoped they were but knew they likely were not. A surviving passenger list had been posted and printed, and unless there were others such as herself who were trying not to be discovered, the chances were if loved ones had not caught up with each other at the pier, they would never meet on this plane again.
“The hotel is just this way,” Carrie said as she paused for Meg to keep up. She was maybe three or four years older than Meg, with kind brown eyes and a splay of freckles across her nose. Her hair was also dark, and though it was pinned up tightly, Meg assumed it would be curly if it was ever let down. Her nose was a bit crooked, but her smile was kind, and Meg felt at ease, as if they were old friends, almost at once. “It’s quite a town, isn’t it?” she asked gesturing with her head. “I remember when I first arrived. I had no idea what to think of all the… busyness.”
“Yes, it is something else,” Meg agreed. She couldn’t even imagine what it must be like to go downtown where the real action was. “I always knew I’d come here someday, I just didn’t think it’d be so soon.”
“Where are you from?” Carrie asked, and then added, “If you don’t mind me asking?”
Meg hesitated. Surely a servant in the Ashton home would know about his engagement. “I’m from… Southampton,” she finally admitted, deciding the less lies she told now, the better off it would be when she had to tell the truth. A quick change of the subject couldn’t hurt. “What about you?”
“I’m from Wisconsin.” Carrie said it like she was admitting she had arrived straight from the underworld. “I came here to escape farm life.”
Meg snickered, understanding what she meant by “escape.” She could see a hotel just in front of them and wondered if that was where they were headed. “And do you like it?”
“Oh, yes,” she exclaimed immediately, without hesitation. “The Ashton’s are wonderful to work for. I love being in the city where there’s always something to do, some place to go. And Mr. and Mrs. Ashton give me plenty of free time.”
While Meg was happy to hear it, she felt a little sad for the servants back home who scarcely ever got time to themselves. “They seem quite generous,” she agreed.
“This is it.” Carrie gestured at a grand-looking establishment with large front steps and a doorman. “Mr. Lane said we shouldn’t have any trouble getting a room so long as we speak to Harold and explain that you are a friend of the Ashtons.”
Meg took her word for it and followed Carrie up the front steps, wondering if it was her outfit that had Jonathan concerned they might be turned away or something else. While she knew she really would feel much like her old self as soon as she was dressed in the type of clothes she was used to, she wasn’t necessarily sure that was a good thing. Her old self had made some bad decisions, while her new self seemed to have more sense. As she entered the foyer of one of the nicest hotels she’d ever seen, she was hopeful she’d find a way to merge Mary Margaret Westmoreland with Meg West, taking only the bits she wanted and leaving the rest behind.
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