New York City
Charles Ashton’s study looked out over the courtyard of his parents’ estate. The gardens and hedges were gorgeous and a large fountain decorated with cherubs sat directly in the center of his view. He considered himself quite blessed to have the opportunity to take a break from his studies to look out at such a lovely vision.
His father believed that children should stay at home with their parents until it was time to go off to a secondary school to study, so John had hired the best tutors to come into their home to educate both of his children, and despite the fact that she was female, his sister Grace studied just the same as he did, though in another room with a governess instead of a male tutor.
Charlie had always been told he was quite bright and his tutor gave him high marks in nearly every area. He studied hard and paid particular attention to math and business as he knew how important those two subjects would be when he took ove
New York CityCharlie sat in his study staring at a blank page, his pen poised just above his stationery. His initials, CJA, were inscribed at the top in fancy, golden calligraphy. A gift from his mother, the stationery made him feel important. Perhaps that was part of the reason he wasn’t exactly sure what to write. What if his words came across as foolish? It would be difficult to be both important and ridiculous at the same time.Of course, the other idea that made this particular writing task difficult is that it was the first time he was to write to Mary Margaret. He had known for years that she would be his wife one day, but having never met her, he simply had no idea what she was like. He wasn’t sure what he should discuss. What if she found his remarks drab and boring? Though he’d written a bit of correspondence before—mostly to his grandparents who lived upstate—this letter seemed important, and he didn’t wish to mess it up.
Southampton“Well of course I’m not going to allow her to read it!”Meg could hear her mother shouting from the parlor below her. She’d always known that sound travelled up the radiator pipes to her room, but she had only recently discovered that pressing an ear to the pipe (or a glass if one had such a thing handy) allowed even more sound to come through. In this way, she had discovered quite a bit of information that she would have otherwise not been privy to. This evening was no different. Ditching the history textbook Ms. Strickland had insisted she read, she made her way over to the radiator and had a listen, wondering what had gotten her mother so completely bent out of shape.“Why ever not? It’s not as if it even mentions the arrangement,” her uncle replied, his voice showing more indifference than irritation.There was a jolt, as if her mother had tossed something on a table or slammed her hand down. &ldqu
New York City“No letter again today?” Charlie asked, a tinge of hope still in his voice, though he could tell by his mother’s expression that the answer would be no.“I’m sorry, Charlie,” Pamela said, placing what had come in the post on her husband’s desk. “I’m afraid there’s nothing today either.”Charlie’s shoulders slumped. It had been nearly two months since he’d sent his letter to Mary Margaret, and she hadn’t written back yet. “But father’s trip is coming up, and if she doesn’t answer, then how will I know if it is all right for me to visit?”Pamela wrapped her arm around her son’s shoulders. “Charlie, your father and I have talked about this. Perhaps, this time, it would be best if your father went by himself. He can speak to Mrs. Westmoreland in person, make sure that Mary Margaret received your letter, and then, once they&rsqu
Southampton“One, two, three. One, two, three,” Mildred Westmoreland counted as she traced Meg’s steps around the room. “Good, now remember to hold your arm up. It must be stiff. That’s it.”The sound of cheerfulness in her mother’s voice was not only surprising but refreshing. Ever since her mother had decided that she would teach Meg to dance herself a few months ago, they’d spent quite a bit of time together each afternoon. Though Ms. Strickland had insisted that she knew all of the dances Meg was sure to encounter once she began attending balls on a regular basis, Mrs. Westmoreland had been appalled at the poor quality of her instruction and had taken over the duty almost immediately. She had explained to her daughter that very afternoon, “As a young lady, I was renowned for my dancing skills. No daughter of mine will embarrass herself at a ball.”While it had been odd at first—after all, Meg
New York CityIt was a crisp fall morning, and because Charlie preferred to be outside when possible, he had decided to go for a walk about the grounds to clear his head and gather his thoughts.In a few short weeks, he would be off to attend high school at the New York Preparatory School, not far away in Manhattan. Though he was certain he would see his parents frequently, the idea of going off to school after so many years of being tutored at home was a bit unsettling. His friend Walter would also be attending, so at least he knew he’d see a familiar face. Nevertheless, he was quite fond of his parents and thought he would likely miss them quite a bit, despite knowing they would visit regularly, and he could come home often.Though he had determined to push thoughts of Mary Margaret Westmoreland out of his head months ago, he couldn’t help but wonder if he should write her another letter once he knew his school address, on the off chance that she m
SouthamptonMeg had expected a visit from the monster the night she told her mother, but remarkably, that didn’t happen. In fact, she had heard him come up the stairs late that night, heard her mother’s footsteps in the hallway, and then heard a series of loud banging noises and doors slamming from the other end of the house. Though their home was quite sizable, it wasn’t so large that she couldn’t surmise that her mother and uncle must be having it out about something. Meg was hopeful that, despite her initial reaction, her mother was both shocked and dismayed at what her uncle had been doing to her. She was not brave enough to get her hopes up entirely, but she was at least hopeful—and that was a bit better than having no hope at all.For obvious reasons, Meg was a light sleeper, and when she awoke to find the sun peeking beneath the heavy draperies that covered her windows, she was startled. Why hadn’t Ms. Strickland woke
Meg’s eyes grew wide with dismay as Mildred scooted her chair out and tossed her napkin on the table in front of her, giving her daughter one last callous look as she did so. It had never occurred to her that her father would actually disapprove of what she had been doing. After all, she wouldn’t have been driven to do any of those things if he had still been there to protect her, to keep her safe from the monster and her own mother.She kept her vow of not crying when there was any chance someone might see her and swallowed back her tears. The lumpy porridge looked completely unappealing now, and she was certain any toast she put in her mouth would catch in her throat and choke her to death. Since she’d heard Tessa go out the back a few moments ago, she knew the coast was clear to do yet another thing her mother detested, though it hadn’t been on the list, and she took her dishes out into the yard and fed the scraps to her uncle’s hounds.
Giving the book another longing glance, she sat down at her table and pulled out her mathematics book. It was by far her worst subject, but she thought, if she wanted to impress a new governess, she should likely study it a bit more. Young women didn’t have to know nearly as much about calculations and sums as young men, but she’d be expected to know something about how numbers worked. She felt like such a failure every time she attempted to do a simple long division calculation. Whenever she began to court, she would make sure that all the young men she accepted invitations from could do their computations so that she wouldn’t have to.“That does not look very exciting at all,” Kelly said from just behind her. Meg hadn’t heard her come in and startled a bit at the unfamiliar voice. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to frighten you.”“Not at all,” Meg said. Being frightened was a weakness, and she had
She’d been in Charlie’s bedroom a few times before, but this time was certainly different. Butterflies fluttered around her stomach, some of the nervous variety, but most of them fueled by excitement.They were sitting on the edge of his bed, the door closed and locked, the drapes pulled tightly. She knew that there were a few servants elsewhere in the house, but they would leave the couple undisturbed at least until mid-morning. Glancing up at him, she could see that he felt much the same way that she did.“It turned out quite well, don’t you think?” Charlie asked, clearly meaning the wedding.“Yes,” Meg nodded.“Even though a few guests certainly had too much to drink.”She giggled, thinking of one older gentleman who had made quite a spectacle of himself trying to climb atop one of the tables to dance. He had been escorted out, but Meg was thankful for the diversion. For once, everyone wasn&r
Ruth looked adorable in her pink dress, which hung to the floor, nearly tripping her as she danced around her parents. Kelly had stood beside Meg, along with Grace, and Charlie had been proud to have both Walter—who turned out to be every bit as silly as Charlie had described—and Quincy on his side.Now, it was all over, except for the reception. Then, Meg would return to Charlie’s house—the house they would share together—and embark on a new adventure, that of being Mrs. Charles Ashton.“Meg Ashton,” she said aloud, once the last of the well-wishers had moved along. “What do you think?”Charlie was already grinning from ear to ear, but his face brightened even more. “I think it sounds remarkable.”“That’s my name now, you know? Meg Ashton.”“What about Mary Margaret Ashton?” he asked, leaning close to her ear.“Heaven’s no. That&rsquo
Sitting next to Meg alone in the overly opulent dining room, Charlie couldn’t help but smile. Even though the voices still clung to him, he had a feeling Dr. Morgan could actually help. For the first time since he’d arrived back in New York City, he felt hopeful that he could return to his former self.“You look awfully chipper this evening,” Meg said, as she took a sip of her soup. “I suppose that means Dr. Morgan was helpful?”“It does,” Charlie admitted, noting how lovely she looked in the light blue gown she wore. It made her eyes sparkle. “He really does know precisely what to ask and how to ask it.”“Are you studying him as much as he’s studying you?” she asked, amusement pulling at the corners of her exquisite lips.He looked at her for a moment, his head tipped to the side a bit, seeing if she would break into a giggle. She did. “And what if I am?”&ld
Dr. Morgan’s office was on the third floor of a five story building, nestled between two similar looking offices, and Charlie attempted to be discreet as he slipped inside for the first time. He knew that the field of psychiatry was growing in acceptance, yet he didn’t necessarily want to make an announcement to the world that he needed help. However, the accompanying chorus of voices that stepped off of the elevator with him was a reminder that he hadn’t been capable of getting better on his own.The receptionist was an older woman with a nice smile. She asked Charlie to wait one moment while she informed Dr. Morgan that he was there, and though there were a few leather bound chairs to choose from, Charlie chose to stand instead. He peeked beneath the curtains at the few autos and pedestrians traveling about below and wondered if any of those people belonged in here as much as he did.“Mr. Ashton!” Dr. Morgan said, his quiet voice still s
Meg sat on a plush sofa in Maurice’s shop near Columbus Circle. From here, she could see the people outside bustling by on a warm June day, and she wondered where they were going and if any of them would mind if she went along. She’d rather be just about anywhere else.“I like the taffeta,” Grace was saying, “though with that tulle underneath, it seems a bit too… poofy, don’t you think?”It wasn’t Meg she was speaking to, so she remained silent, watching a plump, older woman proceed down the sidewalk with a little boy who she believed might be the woman’s grandson. He seemed reluctant to walk, and Meg imagined they must have had a disagreement. Perhaps he wanted a snack from one of the many street vendors, and Grandmother had said no….“Meg? Are you listening?”She turned her head to see Pamela addressing her. “I’m sorry—were you speaking to me?”
“The brain is still quite a mystery,” Dr. Morgan was saying as he sat across from Charlie in a plush velvet chair, Dr. Shaw seated nearby. Circles of smoke lingered around them from the cigars of several dozen gentlemen seated in similar groupings, discussing business and other inconsequentialities. Jonathan and Edward were sitting across the room, and Charlie glanced in his friend’s direction every once in a while, noting that he seemed unusually amused about something.“I’ve been reading Freud’s theories of psychoanalysis,” Charlie said with a nod. “Do you think there’s any truth to his findings? Particularly regarding the unconscious mind?”Dr. Morgan nodded. “I can’t say that I completely agree with all that Freud has to say, but I do with his theory that the unconscious mind plays a larger role in our actions than we previously understood.”“Do you believe memories can be tr
The First Class dining experience aboard the passenger liner they’d booked the next day to take them home was nothing compared to Titanic, and the ship was much smaller, which made the rocking more obvious, but as Meg sat next to Charlie at dinner, she was just happy to have him with her. She had been right in thinking he’d be more at ease on the way home.They’d insisted on having Jonathan and Carrie accompany them, and no one had objected. Dr. Shaw belonged there with them as much as anyone else, but Meg enjoyed watching Carrie’s face as others served her for a change, and Meg thought she looked lovely in one of her gowns.They’d spoken at great length about all that had transpired, and yet, from time to time, someone would still muse aloud, bringing the most astounding topics back to the conversation. Meg hadn’t allowed herself to shed a single tear for either Bertram or her mother, and she was hopeful that Ezra would get
Mildred only raised her eyebrows at Charlie but didn’t say a word about his blunt statement of what Meg certainly saw as the truth. “I shall go upstairs and fetch Bertram for you,” Mildred said, glancing at the detective before she turned to ascend the stairs. “It will give me the opportunity to say goodbye to him privately.”Meg was certain that last comment was a jab at her, her mother implying what Meg had always known was true, that the relationship between her mother and uncle was more than either of them were ever willing to admit to, but Meg ignored it. The emotions running through her mind were too much, even for her carefully guarded compartments, and she felt like she might begin to crumble at any moment.“Miss Westmoreland, we are prepared to take your statement whenever you are ready,” the detective said quietly, a weak smile pulling at one corner of his mouth out of politeness.“Give her a few moments,
They began to make their way through the kitchen, and Meg noticed Tessa had moved on to some sort of baking. She offered a smile but said nothing as they passed through. Meg made a mental note to make sure that Tessa received enough money that she wouldn’t have to work anymore. It was the least she could do for the woman who’d served her mother and put up with her uncle for so long.Mildred was standing in the foyer speaking to an officer Meg didn’t recognize. The other officers Det. Weber had mentioned must have arrived, because several men in uniforms stood both inside the entryway and on the porch. Officer Brown was speaking to the ones on the porch, and Meg decided to wait for him to notice her rather than announce her presence and be forced to get on with her report of what happened with her uncle any sooner than necessary.“Mary Margaret,” Mildred said, turning to face her daughter. “You’ve returned. Did you get everythin