The sun had disappeared beyond the horizon as Meggy finished brushing her hair and placed the brush back on her dresser. “Now, say your prayers and off to bed,” her nanny, Patsy, directed, giving her a quick peck on the top of her head. Though she’d only worked for the family for about a year, Meggy liked her best of all, and she especially liked it when she was allowed to bring her daughter, Kelly, to play. Most of the time, however, Meggy’s mother forbade Kelly from visiting, and she spent most of her time with her grandmother while Patsy carefully tended to someone else’s child.
As Patsy put out the lights, Meggy kneeled and said a proper prayer, asking God to look after all those she loved, and as Patsy neared the door, she rose, whispering, “Good night,” with a sweet smile.
“Good night, my love,” Patsy smiled in return, watching the little girl climb into her bed before she went out, leaving the door open just a crack as she blew a kiss into the darkened room.
“Is she off to bed then?” Mr. Westmoreland asked, meeting her in the hallway.
“Yes, sir,” Patsy replied, giving a little bow.
“And you’re off too then, I suppose?”
“Yes, sir,” she repeated.
“Have a restful evening, Patsy,” he said with a smile.
“You, too, sir,” she nodded.
Henry approached Meggy’s door cautiously so as not to scare her, even though he knew for certain she would be expecting him. He visited every evening when he was home. This night, he felt quite tired and worn down. The trip to New York had been tiresome, though he had begun to feel better physically the longer he was there. Now, back in Southampton for just over a day, he was beginning to feel quite ill again. He did not intend to let his daughter see that, however, and as he approached her bed, she pulled the covers down away from her face, which beamed at him in the moonlight.
“Are you still awake, my little angel?” he asked as he sat down next to her on the bed.
“Yes, Da,” she said, still smiling. “You know I cannot go to sleep until I’ve had a kiss from my da.”
He laughed and stroked her hair. “What do you do when your Da is away on business then? Stay up all night like an old barn owl?” He began to make hooting noises until she giggled and then he leaned in and tickled her until she couldn’t control her laughter and neither could he.
“Noooo, Da!” she squealed in an attempt to answer his question. “I’m not an owl!”
“Perhaps an alley cat then?” he asked, beginning to meow, while she continued to laugh, though he stopped tickling her quite so much.
“Nooo! I’m not an alley cat either,” she reminded him.
“Well, then, what are you?”
“I’m your little girl!” Meggy exclaimed, stretching her arms open wide.
He pulled her into his arms, wrapping her up tightly. “Yes, you are my little girl,” he agreed. “You are my little angel, Meggy. My dear, sweet child.”
As he released her and she snuggled back down against her pillow, she said, “I love you, Da.”
“I love you, too, very much,” Henry replied. He leaned down and kissed the top of her blonde silk covered head. “More than anything.”
“I wish that you could stay home and play with me forever and ever,” Meggy continued, stifling a yawn. “Wouldn’t that be lovely?”
“Yes, darling. That would be lovely. Just know that I will always be looking after you, my sweet child, no matter what. You will remember that, won’t you, angel?”
“Yes, Da,” Meggy replied, nodding off. Her eyes were heavy and her head had lolled to the side as if she were nearly asleep.
Henry leaned down and kissed her once more atop the head and then tucked the blankets in tightly around her. “Good night, my love.”
She was clearly sleeping now, her breath shallow and even. He took one more look at her and then quietly pulled himself off of the bed, noticing it took more effort than it should have, and headed toward the door. This time, he pulled it completely closed behind himself, leaning against it for a moment, his eyes closed and his heart heavy.
“Is everything all right, sir?”
He opened his eyes to find Patsy before him, a concerned expression on her face, her voice low.
“Oh, Patsy. I thought you’d gone on,” he said, managing a smile.
“Yes, sir. I had just gone back to the nursery to tidy up a bit. Are you feeling well, sir?”
He didn’t bother to answer her question. Rather, taking a quick look around to make sure they were alone, he leaned in closely and placed his hand on her arm. “Patsy, you love my Meggy, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir, of course.”
“As if she were your own?”
“As much as one can,” Patsy assured him.
“Good. Then, I need you to know something. If anything should happen to me, will you let her know… when she’s older. When she’s old enough. Will you let her know that there is a bank account in her name, National Provincial, the one on High Street. It’s not my usual establishment. No one should know—unless… unless you tell her. You will won’t you, Patsy?”
“Yes, of course, sir,” Patsy replied, her freckled forehead furrowed. “Sir? Should I help you into the parlor?”
“No, no, I’m quite all right,” he assured her. “I just want to make sure that Meggy is protected, should anything ever happen.”
“I understand,” Patsy replied.
“Good then,” Henry replied, patting her arm. “You’re a good woman, Patsy.” He smiled at her, and turned to go, leaving her looking after him with a puzzled expression on her face, wondering what had just taken place.
Henry made his way down the stairs to the parlor where he thought his wife might be having tea. His brother was likely out for the evening, as he preferred to frequent the local watering holes. Though Bertram was in line to take over the company should anything happen to Henry, he hoped that he would run it in name only. He knew nothing about running a textile manufacturing company, despite plenty of opportunities to gain an education in that field—or any business field he had wanted. Their parents had been rather wealthy and had done all they could to see that both of their sons were looked after, though neither of them had lived past fifty. His mother had lost a battle with tuberculosis just after Meggy was born and his father had gone on shortly thereafter. The doctors had declared he had suffered a heart attack, but Henry believed his father had died from a broken heart, missing the woman he had loved so dearly.