Meg at Sixteen (9 page)

Poor Clark, Meg thought. Who thinks about him?

“And I've come to offer my help,” Clark said.

“What?” Meg asked, her voice so loud and filled with surprise half of Eastgate probably heard her.

“Shush,” Clark said. “This isn't going to work if you shout about it.”

“You really want to help?” Meg asked in tones that matched Clark's.

“Of course I don't want to,” Clark said. “But I think you're getting a bum deal. Not just you. Sebastian also. He hasn't committed any crime that I can see, except to claim he's fallen in love with you, and for all I know he has. I can understand why he would.” He paused for a moment. “But that's neither here nor there.”

“I still don't see why you changed your mind about him,” Meg said. “Especially if you haven't gotten to know him.”

“I'll tell you why, if you promise you won't think I'm a fool,” Clark said. “It was the way he stood up to Grace. Oh, not just the threats to call in the police. I'm sure he's had his share of run-ins with the law, knows how to handle himself in those situations. But he wouldn't let Grace bully you. I love you, but I don't have that kind of courage. Not against Grace Winslow. Maybe because he's an outsider, he just doesn't know any better. Or maybe he really does love you, the way you both seem to think he does. Whatever, I have to admire him. Besides, I feel like a jerk thinking about how I refused to shake his hand.”

“You're not a jerk,” Meg said. “You're wonderful.”

“I know,” he said. “I'm the second most wonderful person in the world. So what can I do to help?”

“You can find Nicky for me,” Meg replied. “He said he'd moved into an inn, but that he wouldn't be staying there more than a day. He was going to find a boarding-house with cheaper rents. He doesn't have much money, Clark.”

“That is not a selling point in my eyes,” Clark said. “But go on.”

“I know he needs to see me,” Meg said. “And he's probably heard horrible rumors already. You can tell him I'm all right, that I'm thinking about him night and day.”

“Hold on,” Clark said. “I can live with being a conspirator, but I'm damned if I'm going to be a walking love letter. How's this? If I find him, and I'm not saying I'll be able to, I'll bring him over here tonight.”

Meg shook her head. “If Aunt Grace sees him, she really will have him arrested,” she replied. “She's been checking up on me at ten-thirty, telling me to turn my lights off. Then at two o'clock, one of the maids has been unlocking the door to make sure I haven't run away. If you could find Nicky, and get a ladder here around midnight, I could slip out, see him in town, and then get back here without anybody knowing.”

“Once,” Clark said. “I'll do it for you once.”

“You won't have to more than once,” Meg promised. “Oh Clark, thank you.”

“We'll probably all be arrested,” Clark said. “Do you know where I'm supposed to find this ladder?”

“There's one in the gardener's shed,” Meg said. “It isn't a very tall ladder, but it'll reach high enough.”

“Name your firstborn for me,” Clark said. “And don't ever tell anybody I was part of this madness.”

“Only my firstborn,” Meg said. “He'll grow up on the legend of his brave uncle Clark.”

“Right,” Clark said. “I probably should get out of here before Grace locks me in. Expect me around midnight, but only if I track Sebastian down. I'm not sticking my neck out for nothing.”

“Clark, thank you,” Meg said. She stood up, and watched as he left the room. Moments later, Aunt Grace entered.

“Did you have a pleasant visit?” she asked.

“Very nice, Aunt Grace,” Meg said. “Thank you for your kindness.”

“Are you willing to apologize now?” Grace asked.

“What if I were?” Meg asked.

“You are clearly not yet repentant,” Aunt Grace said. “I'm not surprised, although I admit to a certain disappointment. I had hoped for better from you, Margaret. You are, after all, a Winslow.”

Meg didn't feel the least bit shriveled.

“I've hired a reputable firm of private investigators,” Aunt Grace announced. “Eliot Howe has employed them for his law practice. They have been instructed to find out everything they can about Mr. Sebastian.”

“Then what?” Meg asked.

“The chances are excellent they will uncover some criminal activity,” Aunt Grace said. “In which case I shall report him to the authorities. Perhaps he is a Communist. Young men with no breeding or character frequently are. There may be grounds for deportation.”

“He goes to Princeton,” Meg said.

“That proves nothing,” Aunt Grace replied. “Princeton is a fine school, but it's located in New Jersey. When I have had a chance to peruse the report, I shall give it to you to read. It should provide the shock you need to come to your senses. Once you discover what this man truly is, you will turn to me in gratitude for saving you from him. Then we shall discuss what the appropriate punishment should be for your arrogant and willful behavior.”

“You mean being locked up like this isn't my punishment?” Meg asked.

“Of course not,” Aunt Grace declared. “It is for your protection.”

“My protection from what?” Meg asked.

“From Mr. Sebastian,” Aunt Grace replied. “And from your own baser instincts.”

“I love him,” Meg said, although she knew that made no difference. “And there's a real chance I'm stuck with my baser instincts for life.”

“With willpower and sacrifice, we may rise above our very natures,” Aunt Grace declared. “But it is always wise to protect a child. When I agreed to take you in, I was warned that your behavior might prove irrational. Institutionalization was suggested then. Marcus, I must tell you, was firmly in favor, but I felt there was no need for such public humiliation. A young girl who has been labeled mentally ill cannot possibly assume her rightful place in society. Think about that, Margaret, while you sit in your pretty room. Think about all you're risking for this unworthy young man.”

“You wouldn't,” Meg said.

“Your mother was flighty and unstable,” Grace said. “But Reggie would have her, and he paid for that folly with his life. It would come as a surprise to no one if their daughter was also marked by such character flaws. You are my ward, Margaret, and if I feel the only way you can be saved from yourself is by being kept in an institution, I will do it gladly.”

“But I'm not crazy,” Meg said. “You know I'm not. Let me talk to Uncle Marcus. I can convince him.”

“I have already spoken with him,” Grace replied. “He agrees that I know what is best for you. Indeed, at his urging, I have contacted a sanitarium he knows of, and made plans to have you sent there, should it prove necessary. But I'm confident that the detective's report will shock you to your senses, and that following an appropriate punishment, and a change of schools, you will return to your previous wholesome self.”

“Change of schools?” Meg asked. Her future was whirling past her, and there was no Nick, no hope.

“That has already been arranged for,” Grace said. “An Anglican convent school in Surrey. A school known for its strictness. I will escort you to England at the end of August, and stay on in Europe for a few months. Perhaps if you have proven yourself worthy, we will be able to spend Christmas together in London. If not, you will remain in the school until the sisters feel you have earned the right to outside contact.”

“So what you're offering me is a choice of prisons,” Meg said. She stared out the window to the ocean. It was no longer her ally.

“Look at me when we're speaking,” Aunt Grace said. “It is such a small courtesy, and you owe me that.”

“I'm sorry,” Meg said. “It hurts me to look at you.”

“How do you think I feel?” Grace demanded. “To look at Reggie's only child and see a girl yearning to throw herself into the abyss.”

“I'm sorry,” Meg said. “I wish for your sake I didn't have feelings.”

“You will learn to overcome them,” Grace said. “You are already learning that life is more than birthday parties and sugared sweets. In the long run, this little misadventure may prove helpful. Two years in a convent school, spending your days in education and prayer, may give you the discipline that appears to be lacking in your nature. And when you graduate, you will return to Boston, with all hints of scandal long forgotten, and be able to make your debut as proudly and rightly as any of your friends. No doubt some young man from a proper family will be willing to overlook this summertime indiscretion, and you'll make an appropriate marriage. That is all we hope for, Marcus and I. That your life turn out exactly as it is meant to.”

“What happens between now and August?” Meg asked. “There's what, five or six weeks before we would have to go?”

“That depends exclusively on you,” Aunt Grace replied. “Unfortunately, I cannot trust you in your current emotional state, so you will remain in your room until the detective's report has arrived.”

“But that could be months,” Meg said.

“Mr. Sebastian is a very young man,” Aunt Grace said. “He cannot have committed an endless stream of crimes. The agency promised me results in ten days to two weeks.”

“And what if the report shows nothing?” Meg asked. There was always the chance, after all, that they wouldn't be able to turn up Nick's illegitimacy, or that Aunt Grace wouldn't care, just as long as he wasn't an ax murderer.

“Then we shall both be very surprised,” Grace said.

“That's not fair,” Meg said, wanting some kind of concession on Grace's part, whether it was likely or not. “If the report shows that Nick is exactly who he says he is, an orphaned student at Princeton with all those A's, then I think you'll owe him and me an apology.”

“I would not provoke me any further if I were you, Margaret,” Aunt Grace declared. “Such behavior suggests mental instability.”

“I'm sorry,” Meg said. She wondered how many apologies she had in her, and how many it might take to keep from being put in a sanitarium. Two of the girls she knew at school had mothers who had been locked up years before, and there was never any talk of their being released. Aunt Grace wasn't one for idle threats. Meg knew the risk was real.

“Following the reading of the report, you will have two courses of action available to you,” Aunt Grace said. “The first, and proper one, will be to acknowledge that I was right in protecting you from the danger that Mr. Sebastian represents. You will agree to whatever punishment Marcus and I decide upon, and then go willingly with me to England to begin your two years at the convent school.”

“Don't get me wrong,” Meg said. “But what kind of punishment are you thinking of?”

There was a flicker of a smile on Aunt Grace's face. “Nothing horrendous,” she said. “Your removal from Eastgate, perhaps. A carefully supervised summer on Beacon Hill instead.”

Prison again, Meg thought, but she doubted Grace would mar her Boston mansion with locks.

“Or perhaps we will permit you to stay on at Eastgate, but severely limit your social activities,” Aunt Grace continued. “You would not be allowed out evenings, nor could you have any friends over.”

“Not even Clark?” Meg asked.

“An exception might be made for Clark, if his parents are willing,” Grace said. “His father has already expressed concern to me about your behavior. He doesn't want you to corrupt Clark in any way.”

“Clark is incorruptible,” Meg said.

“The same might once have been said of you,” Aunt Grace replied. “Marcus and I have made no firm decisions, nor will we until we determine what your attitude is. But whatever we'll decide, it will be for your welfare.”

“What if …” Meg began, and then she cleared her throat. She knew what she was about to ask was a mistake, but somehow it felt important that she not lie any more than she had to to Aunt Grace. Meg believed in honor and in honesty, and wanted to claim for herself that incorruptible core she knew remained in her. “What if I read the detective's report, and no matter what's in it, it doesn't make any difference in how I feel?”

“The sanitarium is on twenty-four hours' alert,” Aunt Grace replied. “They will provide an ambulance, so you will have no chance to escape.”

“Would you keep me there forever?” Meg asked. “Just because I love Nicky?”

“This love, as you call it, is nothing more than a symptom,” Aunt Grace said. “A symptom of a deep psychological disturbance. Once you get the help you need, you will undoubtedly make a full recovery. You are a Winslow, after all, and Winslows are healthy and mentally sound. This sickness of yours must come from your mother's side, and since she came from a good family as well, I'm sure you will be able to assume some sort of limited role in society, in years to come.”

“This is so unfair,” Meg said.

“Unfair for whom?” Aunt Grace said. “I'm sure I've given you a great deal to think about, so I'll leave you now. You are a good girl, Margaret, or at least you once were, and I'm sure once you come to your senses, you will be again. I want no foolishness from you during the next few days. Spend them in thought and in prayer, and you will undoubtedly see the error of your ways.”

“Yes, Aunt Grace,” Meg said. She rose as Grace left the room, then sat down and listened while the door was relocked. The sound was no longer amusing to her. There might well be a lifetime of locks to deal with, endless days and nights of imprisonment.

She paced around the room, feeling trapped, until she realized she had felt trapped since her parents had died, trapped at Uncle Marcus's, trapped at Aunt Grace's, trapped even at school. It was only when she was with Nick that she felt free.