Southampton
Meggy Westmoreland loved the toy pram her father had brought her back from New York City. She had snuggled two of her favorite dolls inside, wrapped up tightly in a blanket which had been a gift from her late grandmother. It was a lovely spring day, and she pushed the pram back and forth along the stone path that trailed through the back garden. While she loved all of the beautiful flowers that grew here, the lilacs and oleanders were her favorite. She had even named one of her dolls Lilac, despite her mother’s insistence that it was a “ridiculous name.” The urge to pick the flowers was overwhelming, but she had learned her lesson the hard way when she was only three, and the sharp slap to her hand hadn’t been forgotten. Her mother and uncle sat under a shade tree in the distance now, and the possibility of getting away with even pulling one petal free was simply not worth the risk.
As she walked back and forth, stopping occasionally to check on Lilac and her sister Dolly, who had the loveliest blue eyes, she wondered what her mother was talking about. She couldn’t make out many words, but her tone seemed quite serious. She held a fan in one hand and every once in a while, she placed it in front of her face and leaned in next to Uncle Bertram, as if she were afraid someone might overhear or read her lips. Though she was certain whatever they were discussing was likely a “grown up problem” as her da put it, she was still curious by nature and wished she might at least hear enough of the conversation to know if they were speaking about her. From time to time, her uncle looked at her in a strange way, one that made her feel quite uncomfortable, and this made her wonder if maybe they were discussing sending her away to boarding school or making her work at her father’s factory. With her mother, one could never tell.
A rustling in the bushes caught her attention, and as she turned to see what the noise might be, a loud voice shouted, “Boo!” followed by the sound of breaking branches and laughter.
Meggy jumped, but upon seeing that it was only Ezra, the gardener’s son, she became more perturbed than frightened. “Ezra!” she scolded, looking over her shoulder to see if her mother had heard. “What are you doing? If my mother catches you in her bushes, she’ll box both of our ears!”
Still laughing, the slightly older, gawky boy said, “Aw, she ain’t heard nothin’, Meggy. She’s too busy yammering to your uncle. Why don’t you come play in the carriage house wi’ me?”
Meggy shook her head. “You know I can’t go in there without my mother’s permission, and if I interrupt to ask her, she’ll give me what for.”
“You’re a silly girl, Meggy!” Ezra shouted. “You should do whatever you like, and see if your mother even notices. She never pays you any mind.”
While she was certain he had a point (most of the time, her mother didn’t seem to notice what she was doing or where she was) her mother did have a knack for finding her just when she was up to no good. Since her nanny was allergic to flowers, Meggy was only allowed to play in the back garden when her mother was present, which wasn’t often. She was more interested in her pram just now than climbing around the dusty carriage house with Ezra, but then, having a playmate was also a rarity. She was torn. Scratching her head, she glanced over at her mother and then at Ezra. Perhaps she could at least ask, and then, if her mother said no, she could continue to play with her baby dolls and Ezra could go off on his own and let her be.
“All right then,” she muttered, and leaving the pram behind, she made her way across the yard, her fingers interlaced in front of her.
“I’m just concerned, that’s all,” her mother was saying, leaning in closely to Uncle Bertram. “It’s as if he knows what we’re about. And I don’t like it.”
“Then perhaps it is time to accelerate our strategy,” Bertram, who was at least ten years older than her father, with streaks of gray at his temples, replied. “If you’re afraid he will find out and change the will….”
“Mary Margaret?” her mother questioned, just noticing her presence. “What in the world are you doing? Why aren’t you playing?”
“Beg your pardon, Mother,” Meggy replied with a small curtsey, “Would it be all right if I went to play in the carriage house with Ezra?”
“The carriage house?” she repeated, her blue eyes widening in dismay. Her mother was strikingly pretty, but Meggy thought her expression always ruined her face. Why didn’t she ever smile? Why must she do her hair up so tightly that she always looked surprised? “You know how I feel about you climbing around in there in your frock! You’re liable to get dirty or catch a tear….”
“Now, Millie,” Bertram interrupted, “Perhaps Meggy should be off to the carriage house. That way we can speak about… matters… without being interrupted.”
He smiled at her, and Meggy felt as if little insects were crawling all over her arms. There was just something about the heaviness of his eyes, as if he could cut her open with a look. She turned away, back to her mother. “Please, Mother?”
She sighed and whispered a word Meggy knew she was never to repeat before she finally said, “All right then. Off with you. But do be careful. I don’t want that dress ruined.”
“Yes, Mother,” Meggy nodded, holding back her smile so that her mother couldn’t see how delighted she was to be given permission to do—anything. She scampered off to meet Ezra who was already headed toward the carriage house which sat at the back of the property. Despite her inability to initially make up her mind, she knew she’d made the right choice. She always had fun with Ezra.
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
As he entered the parlor and saw Mildred sitting in her usual chair near the unlit fireplace, a lantern illuminating her embroidery, he wondered what that must be like, to love someone so much you couldn’t fathom going on without them. He had been in love with her at one time. She had been a clever, cunning young woman, with beautiful hair and sparkling eyes. He knew almost immediately she was after him for his money and the promise of a prominent life, but they had become involved more quickly than he had planned for, and he’d asked her to be his wife one evening when she’d come to him in tears, carrying the evidence of their indiscretions beneath her ample gown. A month later, after they’d made their vows, the first of their three tragedies occurred, and that evidence was buried in a tiny box in her father’s family plot. He had thought at the time their loss would bring them closer together, but that was the beginning of Mildred’s emotional rati
Southampton The swing was creaky. Her father had promised to look into it, to see if he could switch out the rope or tie it to a different branch, but he hadn’t gotten a chance to, and with every sway to and fro, Meggy was reminded that her father wasn’t coming home this time. She would never see him again.Her mother had said he’d had a heart attack, and when she’d questioned what that meant, she’d been sent out of the room. Later, Patsy had explained that his heart had stopped working, and now he was in heaven with Jesus. Meggy didn’t think it was fair that Jesus could just take her Da like that. Didn’t he have enough other people to keep him company? Her Da was the only person in the whole world she’d wanted to keep, and now he was gone. Forever.“Whatcha doin’?” Ezra asked sneaking around the back of the tree.“Nothing,” Meggy
Meggy’s prayers went unanswered, however, when her face made contact with the rough fabric of Patsy’s skirts. “Miss Meggy, darlin’ whatever are you doing?” she asked just above a whisper.Happy that it was Patsy who had found her out and no one else, Meggy let go a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Nothin’,” she replied looking up into the kind eyes of her caretaker.Patsy shook her head, frizzy red curls dancing around her mob cap. “Now, I know that isn’t true.”“I was just…. Mother and Uncle Bertram were talking, and I wanted to know what they were saying, that’s all. I thought maybe they might say something about Da.”Smiling, as if to say she understood, Patsy reached down and took her charge’s little hand. “How would you like a cookie?” she asked, leading her into the kitchen.“Mother says I shouldn&rsquo
New York CityCharlie Ashton always enjoyed walking the floor of his father’s factory with him, listening to the owner encourage the workers and comment on their effort. Everyone always seemed so happy and proud to be doing their job. Today was no different, as Mr. Ashton proceeded up and down the rows, patting workers on the back, calling almost every single one of them by name, despite the hundreds of individuals they passed. Charlie wondered how he knew everyone so well, and when he’d asked, his father simply said, “People are important.”The sounds of the machinery made parts of the factory very noisy, and whenever they would approach some of the more dangerous areas, John would always take Charlie by the hand, even though he was nearly eleven years old—practically a grown man—and his head reached his father’s shoulder. He said he wanted to make sure nothing happened to his right hand man, so Charlie shrugged and took his f
Southampton“Time for bed,” her mother repeated for at least the third time. Meggy continued to pretend that she could not hear her. She had been playing at reading for nearly half an hour now, not budging from her chair in the parlor, despite the fact that she knew her mother didn’t like her to be downstairs. Meggy didn’t like her room anymore.“Mary Margaret!” she shouted this time. “Get upstairs and change this instant or else I shall fetch Ms. Strickland from her chambers and have her put you to bed!”Meggy took a deep breath, realizing she would have to go now, despite the fact that she would have done almost anything to work her way around it. But without a word of back-talk (which would have gotten her a fat lip at the least) she gathered up her book, dragged herself out of the room, and began her slow ascent up the stairs.She took her time washing up as well. No longer would Patsy come in and help h
New York CityCharles 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.