Meg found the letter on her pillow, and hesitated to open it. On the one hand, she hoped with each letter that Charlie would say he refused to be her husband and they could call the entire arrangement off. On the other hand, she hated to disappoint her father, and while she wasn’t sure whether or not God was looking down on her or not most of the time, she was fairly certain her father was. With a shrug and a sigh, she tossed herself down on the bed and tore the envelope open.
April 9, 1909
Dear Miss Westmoreland,
I apologize that it has been quite some time since I have written. I wish that I had an excuse, but in all honesty, it has been out of aggravation more than anything else. I will apologize for my frustration, since I’m certain there was no way you could have guessed that my father and I were planning to pay you a visit on our trip to Southampton, but I was sincerely looking forward to meeting you at last, and when you were not available, it was quite disconcerting.
Mary Margaret, I know that this situation could potentially be frustrating for you, whether or not you have voiced your feelings to your mother and uncle or not. I can understand that. However, our fathers have made a promise to each other, and I feel in my heart that it is our duty to uphold that promise. Regardless of the time we have spent not knowing each other, I believe that we can learn to admire—perhaps even love—each other. I hope that you feel the same way and that you have accepted this path we walk together.
I am sure you are aware that the newspapers have announced our engagement to the world. From time to time, I see an article about myself where your name also appears. Though the world may have already declared that we are betrothed, I should have liked to have had the opportunity to ask you myself, in person, for your hand. Regardless of how that announcement came to be made, I have not quite considered our engagement official these past months because I was not able to ask you myself. Since a great deal of time has passed, and I still have not been afforded that opportunity, I must ask you in writing. Mary Margaret, will you consent to honoring the promise our fathers made to one another and become my wife at such time our parents deem appropriate? If your answer is yes, then I should like to move forward with planning the wedding. You should know that we are more than happy to have your mother and uncle accompany you to New York City and should be pleased to have them as guests in one of our estate homes for as long as they should like to stay.
Please answer quickly as I am eager to fully move forward with our arrangement. If your answer is something else, it is quite important that I know that soon as well.
Sincerely yours,
Charles J. Ashton
Meg read the letter twice, the last full paragraph making her sick to her stomach each time she read it. She had always hoped that if her plan to run away didn’t work and she was somehow forced to marry Charlie, at least she would be able to escape her mother and uncle. Now, it seemed that she would never get away.
She wanted to crumple the letter, to tear it to a thousand pieces and toss it in the fireplace. However, just as she was about to rip it apart, she heard footsteps behind her.
“Mary Margaret, what did Charles have to say?” her mother asked approaching her bed.
Hating for her mother to see her cry, Meg attempted to snuff her tears out and somehow pull them back from whence they came. Of course, she couldn’t manage that, so she wiped them away on the back of her hand. By now, her mother had taken the letter from her and was reading it. Once she’d finished, she handed it back to her daughter, a thoughtful look on her face.
“Well?” Meg asked. “What shall I say?”
“You should say, ‘yes.’ Of course you plan to follow through with the arrangement.”
“I do?” Meg asked.
Mildred folded her arms across her chest. “Mary Margaret, you know this is legally binding. There is nothing either of us can do to prevent it.”
“But I thought you didn’t want me to….”
“What I want is for you to say yes. We’ll worry about the rest later.”
“But—you wanted to keep the company. Uncle Bertram….”
“Mary Margaret,” Mildred began, clearly losing patience with her daughter, “this will be a long, drawn-out engagement. We shall see what else the Ashtons intend to promise in exchange for your hand. If they’re willing to give us a house, perhaps they will be willing to give us more.”
Meg wanted to say, “So now you’re using them for their money?” but she bit her tongue, listening, as her mother went on.
“While there are pros and cons to any business deal, this one is particularly complicated.”
“Because it involves my hand?” Meg asked, thinking perhaps her mother was feeling a bit motherly all of a sudden.
“No, because it involves a potential way to save the company. As you know, we are nearly at our end, Mary Margaret. I could scarcely afford to keep the lamps lit this month. Every penny, every credit extension, is maximized. If the Ashtons can keep us afloat, perhaps we can manage to keep our heads above water a bit longer.”
“Why not just move to New York City then and let them take care of us?” Meg asked, dumbfounded.
“Because—I’ve worked so hard to build what I have here. Despite your uncle’s best attempt at ruining our name, in Southampton, we are high society, Meg. In New York, we’ll be nothing. No one will know us. Any invitations we get will be out of pity for the Ashton’s in-laws.”
“But—people will invite you because you will be related to the Ashtons,” Meg argued.
“How can I entertain in someone else’s estate house?” Mildred shot back, looking down her nose at Meg.
“I’m sure they will find you a suitable home, Mother,” Meg countered. Then she realized, she actually seemed to be arguing in favor of moving to New York City—with her mother. Had she become so bitter that she was willing to say whatever it took to prove her mother wrong?
“Mary Margaret, you simply don’t understand,” Mildred said, a sigh of exhaustion.
Well, that much was certainly true. “All right, Mother,” Meg replied. “So you do want me to accept Charlie’s official engagement?”
“Yes, and we must ask for part of the bride-price upfront. Now.”
Meg was shocked. How could she possibly write Charlie a letter asking for money? “Mother? What in the world will I say?”
“Leave that up to me,” Mildred said, her eyes narrowing and a cunning smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.