Meg at Sixteen (12 page)

“My understanding is it's quite an international school,” Aunt Grace replied. “It seems there are girls with your sort of behavior problems to be found in many different countries.”

“That sounds nice,” Meg said, not knowing what she was supposed to say.

Apparently, she'd guessed wrong. Aunt Grace barked with laughter. “It's hardly nice,” she said. “To satisfy Marcus, I had to find a school with the strictest of guidelines. There are morning prayers at six, and lights are out by nine. Classes are held six days a week, and the only free time is three hours Sunday afternoons.”

“Oh,” Meg said. Miss Arnold's was starting to sound like a pleasure palace in comparison.

“The British are quite a bit stricter than Americans,” Aunt Grace declared. “I probably should have taken you out of Miss Arnold's when I assumed your custodianship. You obviously need more structure than you'd been receiving there.”

The car pulled into the circular driveway, and Grace and Meg entered the house together. Meg wondered how long she'd be allowed to stay downstairs, and whether in a few months' time, her stay at Eastgate would seem like a festival of freedom.

They sat down for dinner soon after they got in. The dining room always seemed empty with just the two of them there, but, as always, Meg was glad for whatever distance the large table provided between her and Grace.

“You mentioned that we might spend Christmas together,” Meg said. She knew she was a fool to ask more questions about the school, but it was like an aching tooth that constantly drew the tongue to it. “Are the girls allowed much time away from school?”

Aunt Grace speared a piece of ham from her plate. “Very little,” she replied. “And of course, none of it unsupervised. During the first six months, new girls are not allowed to leave the grounds at all, except at Christmas. Thereafter, if their behavior proves them trustworthy, they may go to town in a group, accompanied by two of the sisters, once a month to buy toiletries and the like. In addition, in case you're getting any ideas, they are allowed no visitors outside their immediate families, and any letters they send out or receive are read by the sisters.”

“Then they can get letters,” Meg said. It was such a small thing, but it was all Grace was leaving her.

“I will give them a list of people you may receive mail from,” Aunt Grace replied. “Nick Sebastian's name will not be on that list.”

Meg knew better than to ask about phone calls. For two years, she knew, she wouldn't see Nick, or even hear from him. Two years, and that was the better of the two alternatives Grace was offering her. “What are the rooms like?” she asked instead.

“There are no rooms,” Grace declared. “Not the sort you're used to at Miss Arnold's. The girls sleep in dormitories, twenty beds to a room. According to Maude Bishop, Georgina complained about the lack of heat her entire stay there.”

Meg wondered how much this hellhole cost, then decided the price was probably quite high. After all, the parents who sent their daughters there could sleep comfortably in their well-heated bedrooms, knowing how cleverly they were punishing their offspring.

“I'm sure I'll learn a lot there,” Meg said.

“Yes,” Aunt Grace replied. “Undoubtedly you will.”

Meg ate as much as she could of her lunch, not wishing to alienate Grace even further by showing a lack of appetite. She thought she could bear anything if she knew that Nick was there for her, but two years of enforced isolation with no chance of seeing him might be more than she could handle. And she knew the risk existed that Nick might not wait for her.

Following lunch, Grace made no mention of Meg returning to her room, so she went instead into the parlor, where she sat doing needlepoint while Grace read. Occasionally she gazed out the window, but Grace didn't take the hint. Meg thought about going to the piano and playing some music appropriate to Sunday afternoon, but she didn't know if that pleasure was also forbidden, and she lacked the courage to find out. Meg could feel Aunt Grace's stare every now and again, but tried hard not to look up, tried harder not to blush. They sat that way for an hour, until the doorbell rang.

Delman had Sundays off, so one of the maids answered the door, and let Clark Bradford and his father in. They were ushered to the parlor, where Grace greeted them.

“I'm pleased to see you both here,” Mr. Bradford declared, after sitting down and refusing the offer of lemonade. “I heard some distressing news, that I thought it my place to share with you.”

Meg put down her needlepoint and glanced at Clark. He shook his head slightly, and Meg knew it was going to be bad.

“It concerns that Sebastian fellow,” Mr. Bradford said. “The one who made such a fuss at Margaret's party.”

“Has he committed a crime?” Aunt Grace asked. “Have the police been called in?”

“It's not like that,” Clark said, but his father shushed him.

“It's a great deal like that,” Mr. Bradford said. “My understanding was you'd made it quite clear to Sebastian that he wasn't welcome in Eastgate.”

“I believe he knows that,” Aunt Grace said.

“I should have spoken to him,” Mr. Bradford said. “I know this is a family matter, and I'm not family, but there are times when a man simply has to step in, and this, I'm afraid, was one of them.”

“What happened?” Meg asked. Had Nick been hurt? How badly did he need her?

“I've just come from the club,” Mr. Bradford said. “We decided to have lunch there, then do a bit of sailing. And Sebastian was all people were talking about.”

“Not in reference to Margaret?” Grace said, and Meg could hear a layer of panic in her voice.

“Thank heavens no,” Mr. Bradford replied. “No, the scandal this time revolves around Sebastian and Caroline Sinclair.”

“Mrs. Sinclair?” Meg asked. “What does she have to do with anything?”

“Margaret, be still,” Aunt Grace said. “Or I shall have to tell you to leave the room.”

“No, don't, she should hear this,” Mr. Bradford said. “As I'm sure you've heard, the Sinclairs had invited Sebastian to spend the summer with them, although they hardly knew the boy.”

“No one seems to know him well,” Aunt Grace said. “I suspect he's a confidence man.”

“You may be right,” Mr. Bradford said. “In any case, following that ugly scene at Margaret's party, the Sinclairs told him to leave. They expected, as you did, that he would leave Eastgate altogether, move on to some other resort, or else revert to his own social level and get a job waiting tables or caddying. It was no concern of theirs, once Henry and Caroline got Robert to swear he would have no further contact with Sebastian back at Princeton.”

“But he didn't leave,” Aunt Grace said. “He's still here, I gather.”

“Worse even than that,” Mr. Bradford declared. “Caroline Sinclair found some of his belongings in her house, and she foolishly decided to return them on her own.”

“Caroline Sinclair has a foolish streak,” Aunt Grace said. “It's gotten her into trouble over the years.”

“It did once again,” Mr. Bradford said. “She went to some wretched boardinghouse Sebastian has holed himself up in, and after she returned his things to him, he grew ugly and made advances.”

Aunt Grace sat up even straighter than usual. “I wish I could say I was surprised,” she said. “But I could see the animal in him from the start.”

“Fortunately, Caroline was able to escape,” Mr. Bradford said. “She was quite distraught over the incident. Henry threatened to chase him out of town with a bull-whip, and several of us at the club would have been more than willing to join him.”

“Is she pressing charges?” Aunt Grace asked.

Mr. Bradford shook his head. “They want to avoid a scandal,” he replied. “To protect Isabelle as much as anything else. But I felt you should know, especially as Sebastian appears to be remaining here, with no sense of shame or decency. I'm afraid he might make some kind of effort to see Margaret again. A man like that could resort to anything, even abduction, to get his way.”

“All the more reason to keep Margaret supervised,” Aunt Grace said. “In August, of course, I'll be taking her to St. Bartholomew's, and there she'll certainly be safe.”

“Until then, or at least until you know that Sebastian has left Eastgate, I recommend keeping Margaret by your side at all times,” Mr. Bradford said. “To protect both her and her reputation. I've already heard talk.”

“We cannot have that,” Aunt Grace agreed, and Meg had a terrible insight. If the talk continued, if Meg developed some sort of reputation, then Clark would be forbidden to see her. Not only would she lose Nick, but she would lose her only real friend in the world.

“You're wrong about him,” she said. “Nicky would never do anything like that.”

Aunt Grace shook her head. “My only hope is the detective's report will prove to Margaret once and for all how despicable the man is.”

“My point exactly,” Mr. Bradford said. “What is to prevent a man like that from breaking into this house this very minute, seizing Margaret, and running off with her?”

“What do you suggest?” Aunt Grace asked.

“It saddens me to say it,” Mr. Bradford said. “But for her own good, I think Margaret should return to her room, and stay there in its safe confines, at least until she sees the error of her ways. Once Sebastian realizes he can't have his way with her, I'm sure he'll need little convincing to leave.”

“No,” Meg said. “Not back to my room. Can't I at least stay downstairs for the rest of today?”

“It's for your own good,” Mr. Bradford declared.

Meg wanted to shout at him, to tell him to go away and leave her alone, but she knew the dangers if she made a scene. “Just for today,” she whispered.

“It is to protect you,” Aunt Grace said. “Both from Sebastian, and from your own baser instincts. Go upstairs at once, Margaret.”

“I hate being locked in,” Meg said.

“I know you think it's punishment,” Aunt Grace said. “But it's not. Take your needlepoint with you. You can keep yourself just as busy there as down here.”

Ordinarily, Meg was thrilled to be excused from Aunt Grace's company, but it felt so sweet to be with people again, even Grace, that she hated the thought of leaving. “May Clark come with me?” she asked.

“No,” his father said. “Margaret, you must realize that while there's a cloud over your head, anybody associated with you suffers the same risk.”

“You don't think Nicky is going to kidnap him?” Meg asked.

“I meant the loss of reputation,” Mr. Bradford replied. “Really, Grace, what has gotten into the girl?”

“I'm sorry,” Meg said. She got up and started to leave. Clark and his father both stood up, and Clark began walking out with her.

“I'm just seeing her to the stairs, Father,” Clark said, and Meg knew what an act of courage those words were for Clark and felt grateful to him once again.

“Very well,” Mr. Bradford said. “Youth is so impulsive,” he declared to Aunt Grace as the teenagers left.

“And age is repulsive,” Meg whispered, but Clark didn't laugh.

“You're in it this time,” he said softly.

“Locked in it,” Meg said.

Clark took her hand and passed a note to her. “Think about everything Father has said,” he said in a normal voice. “Your aunt really does know what's best for you.”

“Yes, Clark,” Meg said. She tried desperately not to run up the stairs, to what had suddenly become the haven of her bedroom. Aunt Grace would be up momentarily, she knew, to check on her and lock the door. She had only moments to read the note, then find a place to hide it. But running would give away everything, so she paced her walk, not too fast, not too slow, and then left the door open behind her, the way Grace would want to find it.

Dearest Daisy,

It was a joy to see you, even in the rain. I love you, and will think about what you suggested.

Nicky

Meg clutched the note to her breast, then slipped it under her bed. Not even the sound of the key turning in the lock disturbed her. Nick would agree to marry her, and then there'd be no more prisons.

C
HAPTER
N
INE

By Tuesday, Aunt Grace had decided Nick wasn't about to abduct Meg, and she eased her niece's restrictions. Meg was allowed out of her room during the day, and although she was locked in at night, and checked up on, she still reveled in her freedom. Playing the piano and walks in the garden were permitted again, and on Thursday, she was even allowed to go swimming. She was accompanied by two maids, and she wasn't allowed to wander off of Grace's private beachfront, but it didn't matter. She could move again, and she had Nick's note (cleverly hidden inside the toe of her right boot), to give her strength when she felt weakest.

Clark was still on the proscribed list (although Meg was of the opinion Mr. Bradford had made that rule up himself), and no other friends dropped by, but that was all right too. Meg couldn't imagine talking about anything other than Nick, and that was the one subject she knew was unwise to discuss. It was better to read and do needlepoint, take solitary walks and swims, than to destroy whatever chances she had left.

She yearned to be with Nick, but the risk was too great, and without Clark's cooperation, there was no way of making contact with him anyway. The day would come, Meg told herself again and again, the day would come when nothing Aunt Grace could think of would keep them apart. All Meg had to do was behave herself, so Grace's defenses would ease, and then she could make her escape. Mrs. Nick Sebastian. Just weeks away, maybe even days. Meg Sebastian. She and Nick together forever. She had fantasies all day long of their home together, the sacrifices they'd happily make for each other, the joys they'd share in each other's company. She had dreams at night of their lovemaking, not too explicit, since Meg was still a little hazy on the logistics of the act, but so full of heat and yearning that she'd wake up in her darkened room sweating with desire. Just weeks, she told herself. Maybe even days. And she held on to Nick's note.