Two Years Later...

August 1941

Sybbie paced around the kitchen of the small house that her step-mother had used to call home. Now it was her home. Hers and James' together. The only thing missing was her husband. There had been no word of him for days, the last message had been that he and her cousin had been flying on a regular patrol when they had been fired upon and forced to jettison the bomber somewhere in the North of France.

That was all she knew. Witnesses said they saw two parachutes deploy before the plane crashed in a fiery wreck so she just knew that the boys were all right. They had to be. She couldn't imagine otherwise. She was eagerly awaiting word from someone to tell her everything would be alright. She was growing desperate. She paced by the telephone in the hall but it mocked her with its continued silence.

A gentle nudge from within her reminded her that she had not eaten lunch yet and she made her way to the kitchen to pick at some food that her Granny had brought over earlier in the day. The basket was full of bread and cheese and other treats that Sybbie loved in order to stimulate her appetite. A piece of lemon meringue pie made her smile and she thought that must be a special addition from her father.

She had only taken her second bite when the silence in the small house was disrupted by a loud ringing. She rushed to the telephone and with a shaking hand she reached slowly to retrieve it from it's cradle. The voice on the other end updated her on the condition of both her husband and her cousin and she listened carefully in silence. With no more than a simple thank you to end the conversation, she replaced the telephone and her hands went cold. She started to cry.

Tom had been too nervous since the day the messages had arrived that the heir to the Grantham estate was missing as well as his son-in-law. It had been a stressful time for the household to add to the other stress that the war was causing within the estate. The number of children that they were housing, refugees from the blitzing of the cities, was starting to strain the storage numbers. They were rationing as much as they could but even having enough money to buy ten times the food they needed meant nothing when there was no food to be bought.

Thoughts of how they could maximize their rations were running through Tom's head as he was brought back to the present by the sound of his son's laughter disturbing his deep reverie. The pony his son was riding was trotting in circles at the end of the long lead that Tom held in his hand and the young boy was delighted by the actions.

Tom smiled. "You're doing great Jacky! Keep your back straight now."

The boy smiled at him with a look that was so much his mother that Tom couldn't help but grin deeper. What joy the young lad brought to their lives. With all the chaos in the world, the child was a light in the darkness for both of his parents. And he was soon to be joined by another. After two failed attempts at a second child, the eagerly anticipated arrival was only weeks away according the doctor on his last visit a few days ago. Tom was over the moon with happiness despite the dark times in the world.

He watched his son giggle and laugh as the pony continued on his roundabout.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a figure approaching and he turned to see his wife walking across the yard. She smiled at him, and was walking slowly in her delicate condition with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders though the morning was quite warm. She waved at her son, who sat up straighter in his saddle now that his mother was watching.

"You're supposed to be resting." Tom called to her with a crooked smile on his face.

"I was. The telephone rang, you are to return the call up to the main house. It was Barrow." Was all she said.

She didn't want to seem upset in front of Jack. The young boy was clever and could pick up bits of conversation now. She didn't want the boy to know that his two favourite uncles, as he referred to them as, were missing in the war. Barrow had sounded urgent.

Tom reigned in the pony and carefully lifted his son from the back of the animal and handed the rope to the teenage farmhand that had been waiting nearby. Jack seemed a little sad that his outing with his father seemed to be ending quite abruptly but he took both of his parents by the hand and led them up to their small cottage. In his little world, everything was perfect.

Lily took her son to the kitchen and poured him a small glass of their rationed milk from the icebox. As many children as there was living on the grounds now, she made sure her own son had a little treat once in awhile. At least the farms had been producing well in the past seasons. It helped with the sustainability of the estate. As many as three hundred children were now being fostered by the various farms and the parents of some made sure they sent a tithe, as it were, but some parents were in a desperate state in the city. Their children were cared for as well as anyone else.

Lily could not imagine being separated from her son while the war raged. She felt a pain in her heart for her friend Mary, whose own son was currently unaccounted for. And for Sybbie's husband James. She prayed they were both alright. Tom came into the kitchen with a look on his face that she could not immediately interpret. A tear fell down his cheek and she braced herself for the worst.

"My dear, why don't you come sit? You are much too old to be pacing around all day." Cora patted the seat next to herself and watched as her husband of so many years now first offered a resistance, and then admitted that he should sit.

He sat down next to her and placed his hands over hers as they sat together. He looked into the face of his still-beautiful wife and noticed that the dark circles under her eyes had deepened in the past few days. Their grandson, and heir to the estate had been missing and there was nothing they could do about it. All the money and influence they had and they could do nothing but sit and wait.

"He'll be alright. I just know it." Cora spoke gently to the man holding her hands.

"I wish I could believe you." Robert sighed deeply and sat back on the couch. "I just wish we could have the entire family together again. Marigold is still out there somewhere as well."

He glanced at the framed drawing on the mantel, the only communication that they had received from their granddaughter since the war had started had been a coloured sketch of a Marigold flower sent a few months after war had been declared. It was their only indicator that the young girl was alright and they kept faith together that she was still out there somewhere. Her wordless secret message had been interpreted as such anyway. Her grandparents worried for her but had to keep the faith that she was alright.

The telephone rang from the hall and Robert tried to jump up quickly but his old legs were not as spry as he would have liked them to be. By the time he got to the telephone, his Butler of many years had already answered it and was listening carefully. Barrow handed him the receiver and Robert spoke for some time with whomever was on the other end.

Cora followed him by only a few minutes, the sound of her cane clicking against the hard floor was only sound that echoed down the immense hallway. She watched as her husband turned pale and formed a glistening layer of perspiration on his brow. He hung up the telephone and turned to her.

Neither she nor Barrow could do anything as they watched the man they had loved and respected for so many years collapse onto the floor with a thud.

"Call for Tom and then ring the doctor." She spoke with authority to Barrow who was standing there in shock.

Mary sat with the other women in the room and listened as best she could to the gossip that was going back and forth between them. Her thoughts were not really focused on the meeting that was taking place in the sitting room of the large house she still technically shared with her husband. The two of them had been at odds for months now and he had taken to staying in the city most weekdays and rarely came home even on the weekends. If he did it was only to see their daughters.

The conversation was about the war and she could not bring herself to tell the other woman that her son had been declared missing a few days ago. That was the type of gossip she had hoped to avoid and she knew the women would run with it if they had so much as a whiff.

So she sat, with her back straight and her head held high as she always did and listened to the plans that women made that would change the outcome of the war. Mary knew not a single one of the other women would do so much as sew a hanky for the boys fighting but she listened quietly.

Their discussion was broken up by a gentle knocking on the door and Mary stood up to see her maid beckon to her with a look on her face was unreadable. She felt her heart beat a little faster as she excused herself from her guests and followed the woman to the foyer.

An Officer was standing there waiting to talk to her. Her heart stopped.

to be continued...