A WORD ABOUT PUNCTUATION

I don't know about other languages, but with English, punctuation rules vary from style guide to style guide. I have been using the newspaper style of creating the possessive form of any word ending in s by placing only an apostrophe at the end of the word. However, I am not writing newspaper articles. Beginning with this chapter, I will change to the more common practice of adding apostrophe s to form the possessive where the word ends in a pronounced s (such as in the phrase, "Thomas's cigarettes"). Soon I will begin the task of revising possessives in previous chapters.

Speaking of previous chapters, I recently reread Chapter 1. Yikes! I was surprised by how awkward, wordy, and pretentious it was. I did a quick rewrite for fluidity and clarity. Eventually, I will revisit Chapter 1 and the other chapters for a more thorough rewrite.

Good health!


CHAPTER 111, THE DOWAGER

The Dower House

The same day

It had taken six days for Thomas to teach Denker how to make a proper restorative broth. "As long as it took to make the heavens and the earth," remarked the Dowager.

Today was Denker's first solo attempt, which was fortuitous as today was the first day the Dowager felt need of it. Denker set a steaming bowl of the stuff before the old woman.

"The aroma is promising. Are you confident, Denker?"

"I am, milady."

The Dowager sampled a spoonful. The hot broth pleased her tongue and soothed her nerves. "I'll have to write Barrow that his instruction was successful."

"His student was successful," corrected Denker.

"The broth was successful," the Dowager countered with finality. "That will be all for now, Denker. I'll serve myself."

Denker retreated, and the Dowager set down her spoon. She picked up the bowl and sipped, closing her eyes and allowing the broth to do its work. When mon loulou wants a thing done, he sees that it's done, she tittered to herself.

With supper finished, the Dowager rang for Denker to clear the table and settled into her favourite chair. Perhaps she would listen to the radio. Two years earlier, Thomas had purchased a Langham portable by instalments, but he did not think it practical to transport the thing to New York. He presented the set to the Dowager before leaving. It sat on a credenza in a case that opened to reveal a receiver in the bottom and a speaker in the top. Thomas showed her how to work the tuning control and suggested she subscribe to Radio Times. She was surprised to discover a number of programmes to her liking. Lively waltzes and polkas transported her to the grand ballrooms of her youth. Radio dramas kept her entertained and at the same time safely isolated from the great unwashed found in cinemas and theatres. Only Dr Clarkson knew that the Dowager's eyesight was deteriorating and that reading for pleasure had become decidedly unpleasurable. The radio was a welcome diversion.

The Dowager enjoyed sharing the radio with Addy and Ella who had recently repatriated to England. The cronies visited each other as often as they could, each taking a turn as hostess. The Dowager had returned that day from their most recent rendezvous at Ella's house. Ella had been offered a home with the eldest of her great-grand-nieces, another woman who had chosen never to marry, not for lack of proposals.

Addy's frail appearance had upset, but not surprised, the Dowager. She remembered the day that launched Addy's decline. The family had made their annual pilgrimage to Grantham House for the season, and their first morning in residence, Thomas carried a telegram to the Dowager's sitting room. "Will there be an answer, milady?"

"Later. I'll need some time."

"I hope it's not bad news."

"It's from Addy. Toto ... Lord Bennett had another stroke. He didn't survive."

Thomas took a moment to absorb the information. "I'm terribly sorry, milady. I never had the privilege of meeting Lord Bennett, but Lady Bennett was terribly kind to me in Paris. Do you think there's anything I can do?"

"I doubt it, Barrow. Addy has a large family. They'll take care of her and whatever needs to be done." The Dowager was anxious to be alone so she could let go her tears. Before she could utter the words to dismiss Thomas, he was kneeling before her.

"And you, my darling Vi? Is there anything I may do for you?"

The Dowager smiled as she recalled the unmitigated gall of the thing. Thomas was a cheeky lad. He would make a grand show of accepting his place, all-the-while ready to leap at any opportunity to step above himself. Still, at that moment of heartbreak, she could not resist his offer of sympathy. "Sit with me, mon loulou. I feel the need to be nostalgic." She patted the settee cushion, and Thomas sat obediently at her side. Flitting randomly from tragedy to comedy and back again, the Dowager shared tales of her youth and the hopes and dreams of three young women who debuted in the same season and the dashing lads who pursued them. Some of her stories were naughty, but she was, after all, a woman of advanced age who had earned the right to be free of social constraints in the privacy of her own sitting room.

"My boy, you have no idea how innocent we were and how desperate we were to be informed. Our mothers were too dainty to educate us, and we had no Stopes."

"But you grew up in the country. You rode horses. You were surrounded by farms. You must have had some idea."

The Dowager dabbed her eyes. "The private life of farm animals was not considered appropriate to a girl's education."

"So you had no idea what would happen on your wedding night?"

"That wouldn't have been unusual for young brides in those days, but Toto saved us. He was a considerate man and sent his married sister to educate Addy before the wedding. When Addy got wind of it, she made certain that Ella and I were included." The Dowager laughed heartily. "I thought Toto's sister was teasing us with the most absurd story she could invent. Imagine my astonishment when I married and discovered the truth of it."

The two laughed until the Dowager's laughter turned to tears. Barrow silently took her hand.

"They married for love, you know. Their parents were in favour of the match, it was advantageous, but they married for love."

"They were together a long time."

"Not long enough, dear boy."

The two sat in silence until the Dowager had reason to speak. "There is something I'd like you to do for me, mon loulou."

"I'm at your service, my darling."

"Escort me to the funeral."

"I would like to pay my respects to Lady Bennett if you're certain you wouldn't rather be accompanied by Lord Grantham."

"No, you know Addy better than my son. To him, Addy is merely some dull friend of his mother's."

"Will the funeral be in France?"

"No, Toto wanted to be laid to rest with his parents at their family estate. It's north of Middlesbrough."

"Barrow! Have you lost your mind?" Robert's figure filled the door frame.

Thomas released the Dowager's hand and calmly rose to his feet. "I beg your pardon, Your Lordship. Her Ladyship received some sad news, and I was offering my condolences. I did not mean to overstep, but no one else was here."

"I'm here now, Barrow. You may go."

Thomas's departure was followed by an argument with Robert, an argument he lost when he could not recall having ever met Lord or Lady Bennett.

The Dowager had come to depend on her clandestine conversations with Thomas, and she sorely missed his attentive ear. If he were here, she would share her concern for Addy's health. It had been months since Toto's death, but Addy seemed unable to recover. Even at the funeral when the Dowager expected Addy to be distressed, she was shocked by her friend's fragile appearance. She recalled being shocked a second time that day by something she learned quite accidentally.

After the funeral, the family and Addy's closest friends returned to the house with the minister. The Dowager held Addy's arm as they stood alongside Thomas, Ella, and Bates (whom Ella had requested as her escort). She found little comfort in the minister's readings, psalms, and prayers and was relieved when Psalm 121 heralded his exit. Addy asked her friends to sit with her, and Thomas and his brother stationed themselves at a respectful distance so the women could speak privately but beckon for them without strain.

From the corner of her eye, the Dowager watched as Thomas examined a display of photographs near the piano celebrating the life of Anatole Sutcliffe, the Sixth Earl of Bennett. She noticed that Thomas stopped cold in front of one particular picture. He stared long and hard at the photo and then at Addy. She was surprised by the stunned expression on Thomas's face as he approached with the portrait in hand. Bates followed his brother but came no closer than was necessary to hear the exchange.

"I apologize for interrupting, milady, and I don't mean to be impertinent."

Addy smiled wanly. "Do you like the picture, Barrow?"

Thomas seemed to be caught off guard by the question. "Indeed, milady, but could you tell me when it was taken?"

"Our 49th wedding anniversary. You have to understand that my husband was a bit eccentric."

"That was my favourite thing about Toto," remarked Ella. "His unpredictability."

A laugh softened Addy's drawn face. "He would have enjoyed hearing that, Ella. You see, Barrow, instead of having the expected celebration to mark our 50th, we held a grand affair for our 49th."

The Dowager remembered that night well. "You were never lovelier, Addy. Your hair. That dress."

"May I ask," interrupted Thomas, "what year that was?"

"Let me see. That would have been 1909. Is that right, Vi?"

"I believe so."

Thomas held up the photo. "You were wearing a silver gown with rose trim?"

Addy's brow furrowed. "How can you tell the colours from the photo? Can you tell that Toto's tie was rose to match my dress?"

Thomas ignored the question. "Please, milady, can you tell me if Theo Griffiths was there ... the Marquess of Northcott."

"Northcott? I hadn't thought of him in years." Addy closed her eyes as she searched her memory. "As a matter of fact, he was there. That was the night ..."

"Yes, milady? That was the night ..."

"Nothing, my boy. It wouldn't mean anything to you."

"Northcott was a dreadful fellow," muttered the Dowager. "Until I met him, I never thought that a gentleman's manners could be too refined. He insisted on exchanging pleasantries with everyone and never had a thing of interest to say. A page dressed in some ridiculous costume shadowed him wherever he went. You'd think it was the 18th century."

"Milady, did he have a page with him that night? A boy who fainted dead away during dinner?"

"How did you know? Do you remember that, Vi?"

"Certainly I remember," replied the Dowager with renewed indignation. "I remember that you excused yourself from your own party to tend to that boy yourself instead of letting the servants manage the situation."

"Let it go, Vi," whispered Ella.

"I beg your pardon, milady. I know this is not the time or place ..."

The Dowager recalled a quiet hostility growing beneath Thomas's carefully modulated words.

"... if you will permit me to tell you, milady, I was that very boy."

The Dowager tried to picture the boy's features, but she could recall only a preposterous hat with a feather.

Addy stood and steadied herself and met Thomas's intense gaze. "It could be. You have the same blue eyes and dark hair."

"Yes, milady."

"Is it truly you? What a joy to see you so strong and robust!" She took Thomas's hand and turned to her friends. "He had a terrible time when he was a boy. His mother died, and to ease the burden on his father, he left a home full of brothers and sisters to make his own way. Northcott hired him, but he was so homesick and distraught over the loss of his mother that he refused to eat." She returned her attention to Thomas. "You were skin and bones, my boy, but you ate for me, didn't you?"

The Dowager could see the confusion in Thomas's eyes. She knew very well that he never had a home full of brothers and sisters. He had told her once that, aside from his half-brother, Bates, he had only a sister who died in a street accident.

"Yes, milady. You fed me blancmange. I've never forgotten."

Addy touched Thomas's chin with her finger. "I should be hurt that you never answered my letters, but the doctor wrote to me that you were too weak to respond. Once your father carted you off with your family to make a new start, I had no way to find you. Where did you go?"

The Dowager watched as Thomas's hostility transformed into something gentler, sweeter.

"Not far, milady, and a year later, I joined Lord Grantham's household as a footman.

"And now you're his butler. What a joy that we have found each other! You're so tall!"

"Yes, milady. Thanks to you."

"Do you remember what you said to me that night before they carried you off?"

Thomas leaned close to Addy and whispered something the Dowager could not hear.

Addy clasped Thomas's hand once more. "Oh, my dear boy! Perhaps your mother and my Toto are watching us together at this very moment."

"I hope so, milady."

Addy pressed a handkerchief to her face. "Please excuse me. I seem to have forgotten something." She turned and escaped up the stairs.

The Dowager did not enjoy sentimental displays and sought to restore composure to the conversation. "I bumped into Northcott a few months after that night. He had some other lad with him. An older boy."

Thomas smiled tightly. "Did he, milady?"

"Yes, and then Northcott died, didn't he? Something unusual."

"I heard he choked to death at dinner," replied Thomas.

"That's right. A coward's death to be sure."

Ella stood. "I suspect Addy may be a while. Let's stretch our legs in the garden, Vi. You'll excuse us, won't you, Barrow?"

"Certainly, milady."

The pair strolled into the garden and were welcomed by a heady perfume.

The Dowager inhaled deeply. "The garden's as fragrant as ever."

"The colours make me think of a Toulouse-Lautrec. Vi, did I ever tell you about the night that Addy, Toto, and I met him?"

"Who?"

"Who? Henri Toulouse-Lautrec."

"I don't believe so."

"He had a friend, Maurice Joyant, who was also a friend of ours. We met Maurice one night for dinner. It was an impossibly hot night, and Addy was in a terrible humour. You know how she dislikes the heat. And the clothes we had to wear in those days!"

"That's why we were swooning at every turn."

"Maurice and Toto battled the heat by drinking too much. They decided it would make a good game to see who could be the first to make Addy laugh. They tried everything. Even I was embarrassed, and you know, Vi, I don't embarrass easily."

"I'm aware you have no sense of propriety."

"Toto got into his head that a conversation between Lautrec and La Goulue would be funny."

"La Goulue?"

"Don't be coy, Vi. You know very well she was a can-can dancer."

"That was a long time ago, Addy. I'd forgotten."

"Ha!"

"Are you going to finish your story?"

"Where was I? Oh, I remember. Toto acted out a conversation between the dancer and Lautrec. When he was La Goulue, he kicked up his legs, and when he was Lautrec, he dropped to his knees. He was on his knees using his umbrella as a cane when who do you suppose walked in?"

"Lautrec?"

"Who else? Now we both know that Toto didn't have a cruel bone in his body. Drunk as he was, he was mortified. He begged Lautrec's forgiveness and made such an idiot of himself that Lautrec was amused and joined our party. He was a heavy drinker and wasted no time catching up to Toto and Maurice. Addy and I stood all we could and left. The next morning, we had to rescue them from the police station. Toto and Lautrec remained friends until the day Lautrec died, the poor devil."

"I can remember when Toto first suggested that Patrick and I visit the Moulin Rouge. Patrick was horrified. He wasn't the kind of man to ..."

Ella held her finger to her lips and the Dowager paused. She could hear Thomas's voice from the other side of a tall hedge.

"I couldn't tell her the truth, John. What would be the point of telling her how that man tortured me?"

"No point. Why didn't you answer her letters once you were well?"

"I never saw the letters. I never knew they existed. I would have written her if I knew her name. You know I couldn't ask Northcott."

"I'm sorry, Pooh."

"Please, John. It wasn't your fault."

"Who was that older boy Lady Grantham saw with Northcott?"

It was me. When I recovered, Northcott allowed me to cut my hair short and suited me up in a proper livery. I grew a bit, too, those last months."

"Her Ladyship was right about one thing, Pooh."

"What's that?"

"Northcott did die a coward's death."

"Amen to that."

"Amen," whispered Ella.

"Amen," whispered the Dowager.

The Radio Times slipped from the Dowager's lap as she drifted off and dreamed of dancing the can-can in an ocean of petticoats.