As the months passed, Kelly recovered nicely, and by late spring she was showing. Though Mildred struggled with displaying kindness to others, she was willing to give some leniency, and Kelly’s duties lightened after the incident. Clearly, she had a soft spot in her heart for Patsy, though Meg was a bit surprised to see any evidence that her mother had a heart at all.
When Meg questioned her about the newspaper, Mildred insisted she knew nothing about the article or who had posted it. She said she would inquire to see if the Ashtons had released the information, but whenever Meg brought the subject up again, she would simply change the topic of conversation to something else or pretend not to hear. Meg was certain her mother must have been the one to make the information public, but she couldn’t understand why she would do such a thing and then not take responsibility for it. Was she just trying to see how far the Ashtons were willing to go?
Meg continued to make appearances at social get-togethers, quite enjoying herself, considering there was no pressure of having to look or act a certain way in order to gain the interest of suitors. She got plenty of attention from the gentlemen, and after having heard Kelly’s explanation about conception, she had grown rather curious about the euphoria her friend described. She certainly wasn’t willing to go there, but when Marcus Hayworth had snuck a kiss at a formal last month, she hadn’t denied him. She wasn’t interested in him romantically, however, and a reminder that she was already spoken for had caused him to cease his amorous advantages—or at least to retreat. She still spied him looking at her longingly from time to time, him and a few other young men. She wasn’t interested in any of them, though. No, whenever she let her mind explore the possibilities of what Kelly had described to her, it was not Marcus’s face that smiled down upon her. Nor was it the stranger in the pictures tucked away in a box in her closet.
It was the strong, blond-headed boy who worked alongside his father in the back garden, and though she had done her best to keep her fantasies to herself, every now and then, she knew he had caught her staring at him through the upstairs window or peeking at him from behind her fan as she climbed into the motor coach.
The more time Meg spent thinking about Ezra, the more she began to dream of running off to America with him by her side. Such thoughts invaded her mind almost nightly, especially after her uncle began to visit her again. Though it was not nearly as frequently as it had been before, it was still happening, now that Charlie Ashton had officially spoken for her. Bertram said she needed to remember who she really belonged to. While Meg was no longer the weak seven-year-old girl, her uncle was amazingly strong for someone his age, and the fear that engulfed her the moment she heard his footsteps at the door paralyzed her, as did the possibility that he might hurt someone she loved again. Though it had crossed her mind that Ezra may well take it upon himself to protect her if she let him in on the secret, she couldn’t bear to see anyone else she loved suffer in her name.
One afternoon in June, she sat sipping tea, looking out the parlor window as Ezra weeded one of the gardens, listening to Alise Townly ramble on about her studies and how she was looking forward to going away to boarding school in the fall, when Alise’s mother, who was sitting nearby talking to Mildred caught her attention.
“You must be looking forward to seeing the Ashton’s next month,” Roberta Townly said, placing her teacup back on its saucer delicately.
Mildred looked at Meg, whose eyes were wide with inquisition, and then returned her attention back to her guest. “Next month?” Mildred questioned, as if she had simply lost track of the calendar.
“Oh, yes. Dexter has an appointment with John to discuss working together. I’m not sure exactly what it is about—business talk is so boring, you know—but I just assumed that, if John Ashton is coming all the way to Southampton, surely he’ll stop by to visit with you. I believe Charles will be coming as well.” With that last bit, she turned her head and smiled at Meg, her eyes twinkling a bit.
“I can’t wait to meet him,” Alise interjected. “Can you imagine? Charles Ashton at our home?”
Meg looked at the girl as if she had insects crawling out of her nose. “No, I honestly can’t imagine,” she replied.
“Well, I’m not exactly sure what our plans are,” Mildred replied, matter-of-factly. “Mr. and Mrs. Ashton and I correspond frequently. Perhaps something is caught up in the post.”
“That’s why we always telegraph nowadays,” Roberta informed her. “It’s so much quicker than waiting on a letter.”
“Yes, indeed,” Mildred said, her expression guarded and stone-like.
“Someday, perhaps we will have telephones that can call all the way across the ocean. Wouldn’t that be something?” Alise chimed in, taking a bite of a biscuit.
“I doubt that will ever happen,” Roberta said. “Can you even imagine?”
Wiping her hands on a napkin, Mildred responded, “No, I can’t imagine. It seems the world is beginning to close in on us.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Meg knew there was no chance she was actually going to meet Charles Ashton next month; her mother would make sure of that. Thinking the Ashtons had actually intended to surprise them, and Alise and her mother had unwittingly sold them out, Meg shook her head. Though she still had no idea why her mother wasn’t simply carting her off in exchange for a sum of cash from Charlie and his parents, she was thankful that she was still being used as a pawn in whatever scheme her mother had up her sleeve. The longer Meg could avoid meeting, and consequently marrying, Charles Ashton, the better her chances were at escaping her fate altogether.