New York City
“I can’t make heads or tails of it,” John Ashton was saying as he sipped a whisky in his study, Charlie and Pamela seated nearby. “She swears she’s not the one who contacted the newspapers, but if she didn’t, then who did?”
“Why would she make a declaration in the press—in Southampton, London, and New York—and then deny it? It honestly makes no sense at all,” Pamela agreed, shaking her head.
“Well, what did she say when you asked her if she intended to honor the content of the newspaper article?” Charlie asked. Though he thought it was ridiculous of Mrs. Westmoreland to deny making the announcement of his engagement to her daughter public, when clearly she had to have done it since his parents had not, what really mattered was whether or not this meant he was, in fact, engaged to Mary Margaret, and what should happen next.
“She said it would be difficult to take back now. It really is a struggle carrying on a conversation with someone via telegraph. I am not exactly sure what that meant, but I suppose it means that you and Mary Margaret are officially engaged,” his father explained, setting his glass down on the side table.
“And will I be allowed to travel to Southampton to meet her then? Have we set a date? She’s not quite seventeen yet, is she Father?” Charlie asked, a million questions burning in his mind.
“She will be seventeen in September,” his mother confirmed. “What did she say about a visit?”
“She didn’t answer,” John replied with a shrug. “Likewise, Mrs. Westmoreland ignored my question of a date. As soon as she stopped responding to my telegraphs, I went to meet with my lawyer. He said that she had not formally removed her inquiry into the will, and as far as he knew, she was still disputing it.”
“Maybe she had to leave the telegraph office, and she’ll answer in a day or two,” Charlie offered, hopeful that she would give some sort of a response to the two most important questions.
“Possibly,” John agreed.
“Perhaps she just hasn’t given word yet that she’d like to withdraw her attorneys from the case. It has been nearly a decade since she started looking into the possibilities of getting the will revoked. Maybe she’s forgotten she even hired an attorney to begin with,” Pamela reasoned aloud.
“I think you give her too much credit, darling,” John said, smiling fondly at his wife. “I think Mrs. Westmoreland can’t decide what she wants. The company is failing, her brother-in-law is ruining the family reputation and dragging her name through the mud. And then there’s the question of losing her daughter. It’s possible the thought of sending her only child to live thousands of miles away amidst strangers is too much. She may worry about how much she would miss Mary Margaret.”
“You should offer Mrs. Westmoreland a place here,” Pamela replied, realizing her husband might be right. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have an ocean separating her from either of her children indefinitely. It was difficult enough to have Grace upstate.
John nodded, scratching his head through thinning dark hair. “That’s a lovely idea. Perhaps if she knows she will be able to come to New York with Mary Margaret she’ll feel more comfortable.”
“What of her uncle? Do we want him here as well?” Charlie asked. He wasn’t exactly sure what all the man had been accused of, but he did know he had a less than stellar reputation.
“I should hope he would want to stay in Southampton and continue to oversee the day-to-day operations of the factory, though I’m certain you wouldn’t want him to truly be in charge of anything,” his father replied.
Charlie considered that response. He certainly wouldn’t want Bertram to continue running the plant if this was the best he could do, but he also didn’t want to completely take the Westmoreland out of Westmoreland Textiles, especially since he didn’t really want to take over the business at all. “It’s worth an offer,” Charlie shrugged.
“I will bring it up the next time I send word,” John agreed. “In the meantime, I suppose this doesn’t change things too much. There’s no sense in planning a wedding when we have no timeline or date. There’s not much else we can do until Mildred responds to my inquiry.”
“We should go there.”
“What’s that?” Charlie’s father asked, as if he hadn’t heard his son correctly.
Charlie was certain he had heard, but he repeated the phrase again, giving his father the opportunity to let his declaration sink in. “We should go there. She hasn’t agreed to a meeting, but if we were to just show up at their doorstep, surely she’d let us in.”
“Your father tried that once before,” Pamela explained. “Several years ago. He went to their home, and Mrs. Westmoreland said she only had a moment, didn’t even invite him in.”
“Yes, I spoke to her on the front stoop. It was… humiliating at best.”
“I wasn’t aware of that,” Charlie said, hanging his head, his hopes dashed.
“If I had other business to take care of in Southampton, it would certainly be worth it, but at present I don’t,” John said, though his expression said he was thinking about any potential prospects.
“What about Dexter Townly?” Charlie asked, a recent conversation he had had with his father coming to mind. “Didn’t you say that you were considering partnering with him to do some of your manufacturing in the London plant?”
“Dexter Townly…” John repeated, scratching his chin. “That’s right. I met him at a gala downtown a few months ago. Nice enough fellow. I’m not sure if his company can do what I need it to….”
“What better way to find out than to visit for yourself?” Charlie asked.
John considered his son’s recommendation, continuing to stroke his chin as if pulling on an invisible beard. After a few moments he said, “I suppose that wouldn’t hurt. I’ve got some free time coming up in July without a lot in my schedule. I could go then.”
“We,” Charlie corrected.
“What’s that?” John asked.
“I’m coming with you.”