Chapter 37
At lunchtime, they walked outside with a sense of relief, avoiding local places to eat and headed into Marylebone to find something a little more upscale. The friction between them would be eased once they sat down, so Elizabeth walked with her arm in his, content to enjoy the fresh air.
Once seated, her nervousness made her shuffle her feet under the table, though she resisted tapping her fingers on its top. William was unconcerned as he gazed at the menu the waitress handed him. Elizabeth took hers but didn't examine it. As soon as the woman was out of earshot, she prompted him.
"Your rank?"
He lowered the menu. "I'm transferring," he said in a light tone. "But not here. I can explain more at dinner tonight. Sort of a between-worlds development. How do you feel about a night at the Savoy for our honeymoon?" There was so much in those few sentences; it was unfair that she had to wait until after work.
"The Savoy! I should like to stay at the Savoy," she agreed. Elizabeth didn't know what plans Jane and Charles had. "Are we to only get one night for our honeymoon?" Her forehead wrinkled as she recalled that William said they would have a week together.
"Originally, I thought to take you to Derbyshire to see the country house, but plans have changed." He pulled up the menu again. She couldn't help bringing her hand up to slap the table but resisted using unladylike language since others were nearby.
"William, if you can't share details here, I suggest we walk in the park and find a quiet bench. I would rather skip lunch so I can hear your news."
He looked worried but put down the menu. "Very well."
Leaving a tip on the table, they walked out without ordering. The Paddington Street Gardens were near, and the day was fair enough to permit them to stroll. Others had the same idea, and Elizabeth worried that he wouldn't want to talk. But they found an unoccupied bench with empty ones on either side and sat down. William didn't look at her but took her hand as they looked across the green grass and listened to the muffled sounds of people around them and traffic nearby.
"I'm leaving Special Ops, but I'm joining the Intelligence Corps. It's related; we're sort of a happy, dysfunctional family," he grunted, and that familiar sound made her relax. "Like Special Ops, they have facilities everywhere. They, too, used the War Powers Act to requisition any old place that seemed to suit. There's even covert training at Oxford, in one of the colleges." He glanced at her and then back to look out at the grass. A bit of wind picked up and swirled some leaves that pooled at the lawn's far side.
He continued, "but proper training has been established in the Corps. Just like SOE, they went from winging it to organized. They have a couple of training locations; one happens to be in Matlock." He paused as if this was significant, but Elizabeth shifted to look at him.
"Yes?"
"You've never heard of Matlock?" he asked, frowning.
"No," she shook her head.
"It's in Derbyshire." His wrinkles smoothed as he raised an eyebrow. "About five miles away from my home."
"Oh!" Realization swept over her. "So, you'll be a country gentleman and work in Matlock?" Relief spread through her that William wasn't trading dangerous Special Ops missions for being on the front line as an Army officer.
"No," he answered. Her happiness crashed; she felt her skin cool, going numb as well. He turned to look at her, still with their hands entwined. "Yes, they want me to work in the Matlock facility, partially as a training officer. But you know my background. I speak Greek like a native. I was on the Aegean peninsula when it fell, was in Crete on those last days, and spent time in Cairo with the ruling party when they fled there. I can't give you any guarantees that I won't be called to the Mediterranean again. If I'm ordered, I will go."
A weight felt as if it were pressing on her head. Maybe she was feeling faint, but nervousness and the strain of considering what her married life would be like were weighty issues. "I understand," she replied. "I will have you until I don't. War is like that."
"Currently North Africa is looking…good. It may be that we establish a base there once we liberate it. We may not have long together." It wasn't a warning but a wish, or the knowledge that they would use their time together to the fullest.
She had been in a happy bubble of wedding planning and not considering the day after the wedding, but Elizabeth allowed her thoughts to consider the tomorrows to come.
"But there is one point that has bothered me," he said, William's voice was hesitant. "I took this position without consulting you, knowing that we were marrying, but on the assumption that you would follow me to Derbyshire, live there with me," he paused for a fraction, "quit your job here." His breathing in and out was pronounced. "But that was wrong of me, presumptuous."
"I have been considering that I'm at a crossroads as well," Elizabeth began. "Moving to a different department would be a better choice. Perhaps there is a position in Matlock for me?" She studied his face as he considered this request. He was old-fashioned enough to want her home safe and not working, but Elizabeth thought he understood her need for occupation. She was not a knitter like Blanche Grantley or Beatrice Rogers.
"Your reputation for discretion must be legendary," he remarked with a tinge of pride.
"I would only work if there were no children," she said boldly. They had only once discussed a mutual desire for children in a vague manner but hadn't gone on to talk specifics. Elizabeth thought he blushed. But a wife and husband communicated about many topics, even if one or both found them uncomfortable. "I wonder how you feel about having children right away, or if we ought to do something to prevent them?" She thought about Beatrice Rogers's remark that she had shared that one afternoon in Scalloway. William seemed to sit a little taller and was no longer embarrassed.
"No, I should want a family as soon as we are blessed," he said. "We need to make up for lost time."
She didn't say anything about perhaps his leaving or losing him again. Elizabeth merely nodded. They had today and could dream of their shared tomorrows when the war was over. Suddenly, she found herself kissed as if there were no tomorrow, as if William realized he was in mortal peril, and this was their final goodbye, but she returned his passion with an equal ardor.
"We can't worry, and you made the right choice," she said, reaching up to smooth his hair as her eyes shone. "And consider how lovely our days—and nights—will be while we have them."
"Minx," he whispered in her ear. "I fear two more weeks of waiting will drive me mad."
"Don't invite me to your flat," she warned. They stopped at a vendor to get tea and a bun and returned to work, a rather inadequate meal, but the two made do. After a distracting afternoon of work, they made up for that meager meal by dining together. No mention was made of eating at William's flat.
Their week of work was broken up with stolen lunches and stolen kisses. The temptation to hole up at his place for supper was strong, but both of them resisted. The countdown to their wedding—and their wedding night—had begun. Soon enough, Elizabeth would leave Ashworth Place as a working girl to become the wife of a country gentleman, though that was a pretense, in part. The marriage was real—this time, when she wore a ring and introduced herself in Derbyshire as Mrs. Darcy, she would be Mrs. Darcy.
But Lizzy went in to speak to the Brigadier.
For several days she hadn't been entirely sure who to speak to at Baker Street. Lieutenant Colonel Hart was, on paper, her boss. But in essence, Brigadier Grantley was her mentor and the wizard who oversaw a sort of magical kingdom. And as if by magic, she caught him in his office and available. He told Irma to send her in.
"My dear," he welcomed her.
"Sir," Elizabeth said, taking the seat he waved her into before sitting. Always a gentleman with her.
"I hear things and don't believe that I have offered my congratulations. I'm sure that Blanche would offer hers as well," he said.
"Thank you. Please share my good fortune," she murmured.
"And what are your next steps?" he prompted. He had lost several secretaries to marriage.
"That's what I wanted to speak to you about. I'm not ready to stop doing what I can to carry on." She paused but assumed that Brigadier Grantley knew about other installations, even if they weren't SOE ones. "There's a facility in Matlock, a different branch, and I wonder if I might transfer there?" The slight smile on his face said everything. Elizabeth thought he had anticipated her request.
"I'll talk to Dallas there and arrange it. Honeymoon?" His eyes sparkled. She had never been able to figure out how he maintained his energy level, even that sort of joie de vivre every day for days and months on end.
"Yes, a week, though we still haven't worked out the details," she remarked. "Originally, we were to spend a week in Derbyshire, but now that we're moving there, well…" her voice petered out.
"Whatever you choose to do, that will be a special time." He smiled; his eyes glazed over for a moment as if recalling the first days of his marriage.
"Thank you, sir," she nodded.
"I'll let you know about the transfer," he dismissed her. As she closed the door, Irma Plowright turned in her chair, seeking her out.
"Many congratulations," said Irma. Elizabeth thanked her, but words seemed inadequate after so many years of working together. They had been the first two women working in Special Ops back when it was chaos, and even the Brigadier had no idea how to plan anything or what the next day held.
"We've seen a lot over the years since that first autumn. I look forward to the day we can have a drink and discuss something other than the war," Elizabeth remarked. "And maybe years later, we can reminisce about what we did here."
"Many drinks," said Irma wearing the same slight smile the Brigadier had worn. "I will hold you to it. I look forward to the day we can look behind at what we've done."
Elizabeth smiled back, though she felt a desire to hug her colleague even if they had never had such a connection. Irma was quite like her boss, a tower of strength and self-control, and someone who covered your back. But despite years of working together, affection wasn't to be shared. Elizabeth looked forward to the day when they would hug and exclaim about all the responsibilities they shared, mourn those who never came back, but revel in what was new and good in their lives once the war was over.
Elizabeth and Jane were brides-to-be and returned to the dress-shop for fittings. Thankfully, they could schedule these appointments to suit their work and avoided their mother coming along to suggest alterations.
Jane floated in a whirlwind of happiness at her impending nuptials. Charles was to have three days off, and the pair were to run off somewhere though Jane didn't share their destination. While Charles had no more leave before the wedding, William was invited on Saturday night to a family dinner. He bore with Mrs. Bennet's unreserved enthusiasm about the wedding and its details with forbearance.
Frances Bennet's wild ideas for a reception had been neatly curtailed when William and Charles had talked and decided to host it at the Savoy. Such elegance couldn't be declined, but Fanny couldn't fuss over the details or change anything. Elizabeth and Jane loved the idea. There were only a handful of guests so they didn't worry about the cost.
One night, Elizabeth and William strolled to the underground together after dinner.
"I still haven't come up with a good idea for our honeymoon," he said. Their arms were wrapped around each other as they strolled, delaying the time when they would part.
"Going to some seaside hotel for a week seems second-rate if the beaches are all barricaded, even if that used to be the thing to do," she remarked.
"If one didn't go abroad," he chuckled.
"You live in a different world," said Elizabeth, joining in his laughter.
"I propose a motoring honeymoon. We can meander where we will, and get my car to Derbyshire by the end of the week."
"I look forward to meandering with you. Maybe getting a little lost," she said.
"Lost so no one can find us," William remarked, gathering her in his arms for a lingering kiss when they were a few yards shy of the Tube station. "Damn this war!" he cried when he released her.
"I fear it will go on forever, without end," Elizabeth said as she walked with him the last few feet to the entrance.
"There have been small, bright points," he said, turning. "Greek resistance has managed to liberate one city, Karditsa. It's the first city in Europe to be liberated from the Nazis. That has to be a sign of hope."
"That's incredible news," she said, her hands tightening on him.
"It is," he agreed, kissing her in happiness.
Suddenly, it was a week to their wedding.
Elizabeth had heard brides-to-be described in various ways: impossible or jittery or ecstatic. She experienced all three of those states the week before her wedding. Certainly, she was nervous, though not in the way others believed brides would be nervous—thinking about the wedding night.
She was difficult and unbending most days when she returned from work as Frances Bennet met her with a new idea for the ceremony or suggestions of new guests to invite. But with their reception being held at the Savoy, and it being so elegant and expensive, adding even one extra person increased the cost. It wasn't like Bill and Charlotte's wedding in public rooms above the local pub where an additional body wouldn't have cost a cent. Fanny's ideas were quickly nipped in the bud, even if her unrestrained opinions were overwhelming.
Most evenings, Elizabeth found herself saying, "no," in tandem with opening the front door as Fanny would be on the other side, wanting her time and attention to her 'little ideas.'
Her jitters were due to considerations of the future and what the war would bring; there were never any guarantees in life, even without a war raging around them. She recalled her mother talking about a school friend, Helen Long, who had been married for twenty-eight days before her new husband had died tragically (having been struck by a piece of metal that flew off a car speeding through town).
They had to seize the moment and enjoy their time in Derbyshire to the fullest while they had it. Elizabeth considered her uncle and aunt. Eleanor Gardiner had called her at work to say that the Gardiner family couldn't come to the wedding.
"Ned is still adjusting to civilian life," Nora explained. "We have our little routines. Of course the girls are excited to have their father back, but I fear the boys don't remember him, not really. It's all very delicate."
Elizabeth listened, hearing not just her aunt's words, but the emotion underlying them. Nora sounded as if she was at a breaking point, having carried a great deal on her shoulders, even if she was relieved that her husband was alive and home.
"I understand," Elizabeth assured her. "When you're ready, perhaps William and I can visit?"
"That would help. Maybe by Easter, we will feel a little more whole as a family," said her aunt. There was a little more discussion, happier talk about the children before they hung up.
With joy and elation, Elizabeth stepped down the aisle at St. Mark's Church on her father's arm. Mr. Bennet carefully balanced his two daughters beside him as their grooms awaited. He appeared to be in a somber mood, his face stoic as he escorted them to the end. Pausing for a moment, he turned to place a kiss on Jane's cheek and passed her to Charles. He took Elizabeth's hand and patted it before he kissed her and let her groom claim her.
The reception at the Savoy was everything a bride could want. The party was small and was comprised of Charles's family, his sisters Caroline and Lois, and Mr. Hurst. William only had his mother and sister who sat beaming in happiness as they ate and toasted through the afternoon.
Elizabeth had her parents and sisters, Mary and Catherine, who had been able to get passes to attend. Lydia was still too new at her job as a Land Girl to warrant getting time off. It was a point that both infuriated Mrs. Bennet, but which also took second stage since she had two daughters who were getting married.
A letter from Lydia had arrived in the morning post for Frances just as they were leaving for the church. She stuffed it in her purse and forgot about it until they were on their second or third round of toasts. It occurred to Fanny that it was probably a letter of congratulations for Jane and Elizabeth, so she pulled out her handbag and opened it. She shrieked and then slumped down in her chair, having gone as pale as the dinner plates.
Mr. Bennet picked up the letter, read it, and then passed it around the table for others to read, "I believe I'll need to run to Kent," he said.
Dear Mama, I am in love! I'm sure you thought I wouldn't meet boys if I only wore pants and mucked out stalls, but he works here too. He's one of the German prisoners; his name is Johann, and he's the most handsome man that I've ever seen. He's like a big, blond god! We want to get married but aren't sure how since he's a prisoner and all. But now that I am 18, I can do what I want! (By-the-by, I only received your card in acknowledgment of my birthday on Monday the 15th! I thought for sure you would send me clothing coupons at the very least!) Don't worry about me, now that I'm an adult and all. And tell Jane and Elizabeth congratulations on their marriages, Lydia.
The End
A/N: still evil since it ends with a cliff-hanger, but I just had to get in one last zing about Lydia and have her birthday be on the Ides of March. They often did put low-risk German POWs to work next to the Land Girls.
But think of this as a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Story and you can decide what happens next. Was she pregnant already and they had a kid right away? Did he stick to having a desk job through the war? Maybe he distinguished himself after the invasion somehow?
But in 1943 there wasn't any perceptible end to the war. The Allies had made strides, but nothing was definite. So for our couples and their families, there's still no definite tomorrow, only what they know at the moment.
Yes, there really was an Intelligence facility at Matlock in Derbyshire—a goldmine for me when I was considering what Darcy should do!
The story was far more based on Elizabeth's perspective, not the usual he said, she said. To balance that out, I attempted to show how they felt rather than spending a lot of time in their heads waxing on about their feelings. After all, it was a spy thriller, action was called for not moping over how they felt. With the introduction of each new character I teased out more of their back story or used it to further the story once all the characters were introduced. To that end, in the beginning, I didn't show Elizabeth's reaction to William's reappearance which bothered many of you. I will take that to heart and maybe add a few more nonverbal clues. They did get into how they felt eventually once they realized their misperceptions.
So much of this story is true that it's hard to know where to begin to tease out the facts from where I've overlaid it from our familiar story. The Special Operations Executive branch dealt with training men and women for sabotage mission behind enemy lines. They started small and were often viewed with distaste by the organized branches of the armed forces as very ungentlemanly. But they had Winston Churchill's backing and somewhere along the line they received the nickname of 'Churchill's Toy Shop.'
They were based on Baker Street, though they had various other offices in London, and had the nickname of 'Baker Street Irregulars.' My Brigadier is a thinly disguised version of Brigadier Collin Gubbins. Initially, Gubbins wasn't in charge, but I've flattened that part out. His larger-than-life personality and work hard, play hard motto are real. He really did go to Paris in fall of '39 and lead the delaying action in Norway in '40. He threw wild parties, was a proud kilt-wearing Scot, and survived the war.
Early on, they did recruit men from their old school ties. And they did develop weapons and DID recruit small craftsman to help (so pulling Mr. Gardiner in to help develop weapons was in line with their work). The limpet mine was an SOE invention, though I've played with the timing of it—it was created earlier in the war. But the flavor of what went on in the SOE world was real.
The biggest flaw in this story is that missions to retrieve prisoners of war were essentially non-existent. Prisoners were to escape if given the chance, and downed pilots were rescued if they were rescued by the resistance, but no military branch ever wasted personnel on breaking prisoners free.
I did a ton of research. A ton, reading about SOE operations, biographies or autobiographies of operatives, the coders who worked there, and especially the women who formed such a strong part of the secret operation.
Thank you for coming along on this mission, SixThings.
