Mansion
Charlie’s house was unlike anything Meg had ever seen before, and she could scarcely believe she was engaged to the man who lived here. While she could easily imagine it sitting out of town on a few hundred acres and still being imposing, it was situated between two other similar dwellings, though Charlie’s was by far the most impressive. It resembled a French chateau and reached at least three stories into the air, though Meg thought the turrets might count for one more. She stood outside on the sidewalk next to Fifth Avenue trying to catch her breath.
“It’s stunning, isn’t it?” Jonathan asked at her elbow. “His mother picked it out. Charlie was far too busy with his work at the factory and his other interests to go house shopping.”
“I don’t even know what to say,” Meg admitted. “It’s breathtaking.”
“He can explain the history to you once he’s feeling up to it. At least, he likes to retell the story even though I’m quite sure he’d have managed just as well in a much smaller dwelling.”
“Do you live here as well?” Meg asked as Jonathan offered his arm and led her up the ample steps.
“I have an apartment in the back, above the carriage house.”
Thoughts of the carriage house made Meg’s stomach queasy, but she dismissed the statement quickly. “It’s nice that you live nearby.”
“Less of a commute,” Jonathan joked. Meg managed a giggle, but when Jonathan opened the front door without even knocking, she became serious again. She’d expected a moment to compose herself as they waited on the front stoop.
Carrie was behind them, and as soon as Jonathan led her into the opulent foyer, Carrie shut the door quite loudly, making both of them jump. “Pardon,” she said with a slight bow. Meg smiled, realizing there’s no way the young woman could possibly know the visions that loud noises brought up in her mind—and apparently Jonathan’s as well—and rather than dwell on those memories, she returned her attention to the foyer.
A large chandelier hung overhead, adorned with crystals and gold leaf. The floor was polished wood and appeared to be cherry. Meg knew next to nothing about architecture and décor, but she was impressed with the soaring ceiling and details in the molding.
“I thought I heard voices.” Pamela Ashton, Charlie’s mother, entered the room through an adjoining parlor. She was dressed in a blue gown a similar shade to Meg’s, which made the younger woman finger her frock, wondering if it would be considered a fashion faux pas to wear the same color as your fiancé’s mother upon a proper introduction.
Stepping forward to greet her appropriately, Mrs. Ashton took both of Meg’s hands. “Meg, it’s lovely to see you again. You look lovely.” She pressed her cheeks to each of Meg’s in turn and made kissing sounds as she did so, and Meg wondered at this American greeting, which seemed oddly French or Spanish to her. “It must be so nice to be back in more proper attire.”
“It’s nice to see you as well, Mrs. Ashton,” Meg replied.
“Please, call me Pamela. Mrs. Ashton is my mother-in-law,” she joked. “Now, Charlie is in the library, and he’s been asking about you all morning.” The second half of the statement garnered a stern look for Jonathan, as if he’d been secretly keeping her occupied all morning for no reason. She took Meg by the arm and led her through the parlor toward an adjoining room. “Have you contacted your family yet?”
The question was a simple one which made perfect sense, and yet Meg had no way of knowing what to say. Jonathan, who was behind them, answered for her. “She hasn’t contacted them yet, but the list of survivors has made it to Southampton.”
“I’m sure you’ll want to let your parents know you’re well.”
Meg turned her head to look at Jonathan, hoping he’d intervene, but he didn’t. “I… well, it’s rather complicated,” she stammered.
Pamela looked at her with her eyebrows raised. Before she could ask more, they were standing before the library. The solid mahogany doors were open, and Peter stood from his seat next to Grace and exclaimed, “There’s our Meg!” as soon as she was visible.
“Meg, you remember our son-in-law, Peter?” Pamela asked as she led her across the room.
“Yes, lovely to see you again,” Meg said, acknowledging him with a nod and a smile, but she was more concerned with Charlie, who was sitting near the fireplace across from his sister and her husband in a large overstuffed chair beneath a thick blanket. His face was pale and his eyes looked glossy, not entirely different from the way he’d looked the last several days, but he was grinning at her, and Meg was hopeful this meant he knew who she was.
Peter hugged her, which Meg found to be both uncomfortable and questionable, before Grace said, “Good morning, Meg,” in a snippy voice. She didn’t stand, but when Peter finally let Meg go, she did offer her hand, which Meg squeezed and replied in kind.
“Meg,” Mr. Ashton said, smiling, “please take my seat next to Charlie.” He patted her warmly on the shoulder, and though Meg attempted to insist she couldn’t take his seat, she soon found herself sitting there anyway, Mr. Ashton having found a spot on the sofa where his wife was also now seated.
Turning her attention to Charlie, Meg felt her face grow red, the sensation of a thousand people watching them, though it was only his immediate family—and Jonathan, who already knew all there was to know and then some. “Good morning,” Charlie said to her with a smile. “You are absolutely stunning.”
His voice was weak, and he only turned his head slightly to look at her, as if turning around completely would be too exhausting, but Meg could tell by the words he chose and the light behind his eyes that he knew who she was. “Thank you,” she replied, quietly. “It’s nice to see you… sitting up.”
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