Word
Once they’d reached the hallway, Jonathan signaled for Carrie to follow them, which she did at a distance. Turning to Meg, he asked, “Are you well?”
“I’m fine,” she admitted. “I must admit I’ve never sat in a room full of lawyers before.”
“You handled yourself quite respectfully,” Jonathan assured her.
When he turned to speak to her, Meg noticed more than the scent of mint she usually associated with him. There was another familiar smell as well, and she realized why he wasn’t quite himself. “Are you feeling well, Jonathan?” she asked.
“Yes, of course. Why do you ask?” He held open the back door for her and she was happy for the cool breeze that brushed away the smell of whiskey, a scent she could’ve done without.
“I don’t know,” she replied, taking his arm again. “You just don’t seem quite like yourself today. You didn’t say much in the meeting.”
“There wasn’t much to say,” he replied. “I’m not an attorney.”
“No, but you are an expert on most things, including high society. I’d assumed you’d have had more to say about what Charlie and I should do to announce my presence.”
“There’s a reason I didn’t say anything,” he explained as they made their way around the pond. “Whatever you decide will be overridden by Mrs. Ashton anyway.”
Meg stopped in her tracks. “Whatever do you mean?” Perhaps this was the reason Charlie insisted he walk her home, so that he could break the news.
He turned to face her. “I mean… as soon as Pamela Ashton learns you are willing to let the world know of your engagement to Charlie, there will be a ball in your honor. And there’s nothing you can say or do to get out of it.”
Meg felt as if a ton of bricks had just come crashing down on her insides. “A ball?” she asked, her voice weak.
“Yes, and I’m sure that Charlie realizes that as well, but there was no reason to mention it in a crowded room, especially since he knew you’d stop breathing, the way that you have just now.”
Taking a deep breath, Meg realized he was right, and she wished they were closer to the bench so that she could sit. “I’m not sure I can do that, Jonathan.”
“Do what? Go to a ball? I think you can, though I know there are times when you decide not to at the last moment.”
She knew he was teasing, but she didn’t find it humorous at the moment. “Jonathan, I can’t even imagine standing up there in front of everyone, having to answer their prying questions, listen to their sarcastic comments….”
“Meg, you won’t have to worry about all that.” He was patting her gently on the shoulder. “Charlie has a way of handling those sorts of situations. It will be fine.”
“But what if he can’t?” she asked, leaning in a bit and using a sharp whispering voice as if she thought Charlie might somehow overhear. “What if he isn’t well enough to handle it himself?”
“All the more reason to get it over with now so that you don’t have to worry about it once we don’t have any excuses.”
His words made sense, but they didn’t make her feel any better. Suddenly, a stiff drink sounded like a good idea, and she wasn’t one inclined to drinking after she’d witnessed what it did to her uncle.
“Come along, Meg,” Jonathan said, taking her arm and leading her in the direction of her apartment. “We need not worry about it just now. Let’s wait for the hammer to drop before we become too uncomfortable. After all, there are lots of other things to spend our time dwelling on.”
Unfortunately, what he said was true. “Do you know what you’ll say when you send word to my mother?”
“I was thinking, ‘I’m alive, you miserable excuse for a mother. Now stop looking for me and leave me the hell alone.’”
Meg burst out laughing and had to take a moment to catch her breath, pausing just before the door that led to the stairwell. “That actually isn’t half bad.”
He was laughing too, but mostly at her, she assumed. “I was just going to say something to the extent of, ‘I’m alive and in America. You will hear more from me soon.’ To the police, I would say, ‘I wanted to inform you that I set sail on Titanic on April 10 and have arrived safely in New York on Carpathia. I was not with Ezra Bitterly or Charlotte Ross when they left my mother’s home and have no knowledge of the whereabouts of Miss Ross. I am happy to answer any inquiries you may have.’ Does that sound about right to you?”
She nodded, but she wondered how he happened to know the last names of the pair in question. She had known Charlotte for quite some time yet had no idea what her surname was. “Yes, that sounds perfect.” She wasn’t surprised that he would know precisely how to word it.
“All right then, Miss Meg. I shall leave you to your quarters,” he said, holding the door and gesturing for her to climb the stairs on her own.
“What? You’re not going to escort me up?”
“I’m afraid I have quite the boring business meeting to get back to,” Jonathan replied with a sigh.
“I see. I don’t envy you there.”
“I am sure Charlie will want to call on you soon, or else have you over for supper.”
“He’d better,” Meg replied with a sharp nod. “Thank you, Jonathan.” She placed her hand on his shoulder, and looking into his bloodshot eyes, she added, “You know, if you ever want to chat about what we’ve been through, I’m happy to listen. You’re not in this all alone.”
He managed a weak smile. “I shall keep that in mind, my lady.”
She giggled at his forced formality and looked back to see Carrie was following her. She wondered why Jonathan felt he had to be immune to any sort of feelings. Hoping she’d find a way to reach him eventually, she entered her living area and collapsed onto the sofa, pondering how she could be so tired just from thinking.
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