May 1944
The village was to throw a concert for the troops. Jo had even volunteered to sing. She had a marvelous singing voice, she had been told. She had inherited that from her father. One of her earliest memories of him was going a carriage ride with him and Katie. His baritone voice would drift back to them from the front. And she would stick her hand out through the flap, feeling the wind flow over her fingers.
After her two numbers were up, she found she had worked herself up an apatite and went over to the buffet table. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man come up to her. The uniform he was wearing wasn't a military uniform. He must be part of the group preforming for the soldiers. He was giving her 'the eye' her mother had always cautioned her about. She wasn't going to tell him that she wasn't interested. The trick was to be less flattering as possible. He'd get the point.
Instead of introducing himself, he gave her a compliment,
"Has anyone ever told you, you look like Ava Gardner?" He spoke with an American accent.
"They don't actually." When she turned to face him he saw the rest of his profile. He was tall and had dark features. His eyes as brown as her own.
"I'm Nicholas Forsythe."
"Josephine Crawley." She said it off handedly like she wanted him to go away.
"Of course you are." Word was in the village she'd taken over as ice queen from her mother. As first instincts go, he very much doubted that. He'd like to put that to the test with her patience. "In that case you probably get compared to Katherine Hepburn."
She looked nothing like..."Oh?" Now he was really testing her patients. Why wouldn't he just take the hint?
"You know the one who plays the unfriendly but eccentric English types?" He continued.
"We don't blurt out everything we think when we first meet someone. It's just the sort a prim English snob would say." It was clear he wanted to dance with her but didn't get straight to the point. She wondered if this was an American thing. She had never met her American Grandmother. She had died long before she and her siblings were born.
He was wearing the same smile he had flashed at her the moment he had walked into the tent and his eyes had caught her. "Let's pretend we didn't get off on the wrong foot."
"Are you going to ask me to dance or what?" She asked, annoyed. Wasn't that how a great romance began? She couldn't say that she was interested in that way. She supposed she could use a friend.
Figuring he wasn't going to give up, she humored him, allowing him once dance. She didn't pay much attention to him, it was elsewhere, observing numerous couples that were obviously in love. Her eyes scanned over the rest of the dancers till they fell on her youngest sister dancing with her Captain, then on Kate. Her younger sisters had found love. Would she? Would she ever be free to love who she wanted?
Kate and Jack were clearly enjoying themselves, dancing together as if the engaged couple were already newlyweds.
They were married a few weeks later, after knowing each other for four short months. Matthew and Mary were concerned that the couple didn't know each other well enough, that it was just a war time romance that would fizzle out. But they trusted their daughter. Jack had to go back to his duties just after a few days, no time for a real honeymoon. Kate was devastated. Not because of that, because they got to spent little time together as husband and wife.
It was a surprise when Andy and George had gotten leave at the same time, it raised her spirits. The family was overjoyed but they had to be prepared that this might be the only instance that they would be home at the same time. Before the adults knew it, the young wanted to spend time with their own. They made an exception for Mary to join them when they went out riding horses. The only ones who didn't join was Matthew and Andy. They both never understood the fascination. George teases Andy that he used to be afraid of them, that he couldn't go anywhere near them when he was younger without wailing like a baby. Andy protested, not remembering, or was claiming not to remember out of shear embarrassment.
The Crawley children spent most of the day outdoors with their mother. Even Henry had joined them. He loved riding, and was a good at it, as his family owned stables. The Stanhill's had originally made their fortune by breading and selling horses. He shared Sybie's love for them. His father had been spending time with her Aunt Edith. Which felt sort of odd to Sybil since she and Henry were going together. It was unclear if the relationship between Aunt Edith and Henry's father was other than friendship.
Meanwhile, Matthew was starting to feel rather tired, feeling the exhaustion creep in, he decided to go upstairs to have a lie down. Olivia was coming down the stairs.
"Olivia." He said, surprised, I thought you had gone out with the others."
"I was in the library."
"They're out practicing their riding for the hunt on Monday. Will you be joining them?"
"My mother died in a hunting accident when I was really young. My father decided he didn't want his daughter to run the same risks."
"I think if I was your father, I'd feel the same."
She would like him as her father in-law. She wants to tell him that but she couldn't when engagement between her and his son wasn't even on the table. And she doesn't want to make anything awkward. She sensed that it already was.
"I'm going up to rest."
"Do you need any help, Mr. Crawley?" He seemed to be in pain.
"Call me Matthew, my dear. But no. Thanks Oliver."
George, Caroline, and Kate, brought out their horses out into the field, the sun shining off their blonde hair. Once they were all lined up, George looked down the row.
"They say blondes have more fun." He teased.
Josephine was beside her mother and Sybie who were the only brunettes among them. She came to their defense, "all though we're not the blonde ones doesn't mean we don't know how to have fun." She said with amusement. 'first one round the estate and back is a sore loser." She pulled on her reins, getting a head start.
Sybil and Henry ended up in the lead. At some point he pulled a head of her. She saw the rein of his horse come loose, spooking the horse. As she ushered her horse to go faster, she could see that now his horse was snorting and stomping the ground. It began to buck. Henry tried to grab the rope, it made him loose his balance and the horse flipped him over. He hit the ground with a hard thud.
"Henry." She gasped. She jumped off her horse and ran to him, letting his horse roam free. It will come back when it's calmed down.
It had been a long way to the ground and he lie motionless. When she got to him she was relived to see that his neck wasn't broken. But then with panic, realized, that his chest wasn't moving. He wasn't breathing.
"Henry. Can you hear me? Henry?"
Then he sucked in painful breaths of air. Just the wind had been knocked out of him.
"Oh, thank God." The next thing she knew, she was kissing his face all over. "Oh, my dear, Henry. I thought you were dead."
"It will take more than just a fall from a horse to do that." He smiled and tried to get up. Immediately he grabbed his shoulder and cried out in pain.
She put her hand there. He had dislocated it. She told him to lie back a bit and told him what she was going to do. "It will be sore for a while. It will have to be put in a sling."
"Imagine how that will look on my medical leave records."
"I don't care about that."
"Maybe I can accept that, having a nurse like you to take care of me."
Just then George was riding up with Kate. She told them not to worry. He just hurt his shoulder. "I'll need some cloth to make a sling."
George offered to walk back to the house with him, but Henry was stubborn. He could get back on his horse just fine with one arm.
Kate seemed like she was trying to have fun. Sybil noticed. Maybe she was thinking about her Australian, looking forward to seeing him soon. And she couldn't get her mind off Hugh "Henry" Stanhill.
"Darling?" When Mary entered the dressing room, she saw he was sitting at his desk, fast asleep. It couldn't be comfortable there. She decided to wake him. Perhaps she could get him to come to bed. He had been spending quite a bit of time up here lately.
He woke, suddenly, a bit startled at first, if he had been dreaming. It took a moment to realize where he was. Mary came into focus. She still had her gear on.
"How was your riding?" He asked.
"Quite marvelous. Although we didn't get round to practice our hunting. The children decided on a race."
"Who won?"
"No one. I'm afraid Henry fell off his horse. He's alright." She quickly added, seeing her husband's worry. He just injured his arm. A doctor will be coming up from the village. Though I can't say the same for you. Do you we need to send a doctor for you as well?" She wasn't serious at first until he answered, almost too quickly.
"No."
"You look a little paled. Are you sure you're alright?"
"I'm fine. I'm just t...tired."
"I can tell. You always stammer when you're overtired."
"I'm getting old."
"We're getting old."
"You still look beautiful to me." And it was true. At fifty-three she still looked young, unchanged. Except for a few lines he didn't really notice. He wondered if she thought about him that way, except for his hair had lightened and was starting to go gray.
You're not so bad yourself. She wanted to say. He was more attractive to her now, not an ounce of fat on him, unlike most men his age. That wouldn't have mattered to her anyway. He looked a bit too thin due to the rationing. She wanted to kiss him and wondered if he would let her. He had become so distant lately. He was hiding his pain from her, this she knew. Instead she made her way over to him and began massaging his shoulders, then his temples. He looked a bit tense.
He moaned as his body seamed to relax, relieving some of the stress.
"Henry will be staying here for a few days until his arm is better. Sybie's request. I think she's really taken with him."
"Before you know it, the children will all move out and start a life of their own. We'll have the whole house to ourselves."
"Not quite yet. We'll have a little bit of time together, for now."
"What about our Henry? Henry Talbot?"
"I don't know. Last time I heard, he was fixing ambulances. Why don't you come to bed?"
He smiled, knowing it was an invitation. "Yes, darling."
They had a full hour to themselves. Lying in their bed they had shared for twenty-five years, caressing each other as if they were young lovers.
It didn't last long, before their children needed them again. Henry was quite the demeaning patient, and Kate needed help with something. Mary had gone to help, she had let Matthew rest. As she left the room she heard him coughing. She hoped it wasn't anything serious. As she entered Katie's room she caught the sight of boxes of various sizes strewn about. She was preparing for the processes of move out over the next few days.
Jack had bought a house in the village where they would live for the rest of their lives, and raise their children. Matthew was glad to see her so happy, a little weary of how long that happiness would last. It wasn't just the uncertainty of war, she barely knew the man. It appeared to be love at first sight like it had been for him and Mary. Even though she was angry at him that day, a life time ago, she had confessed to him that she was certain that it had been that way for her as well.
Mary and Caroline helped her get the house ready for a house warming for when he was next on leave. They were hanging the streamers when the doorbell rang. There stood an officer with a telegram.
Only three months after their marriage Jack Heaton's plane was shot down over Germany. There was no body to recover. His plane had caught fire upon impact.
Mary could only hold her daughter as she sunk onto the stairs.
For the next week, she grieved. She was tired of people feeling sorry for her. "Poor, girl." They would whisper, when she went to visit his grave. Even though he was not there. His body could not be recovered or there had been nothing left to recover. Yet he was all around her.
"She's still young."
"She'll get over this mistake and marry someone from her own class."
Like Jack's death was somehow her fault. Some German had shot him down. It's this war's fault, the ones who started it, old men, sitting behind the sidelines, that were sending all their young men off to die. What had been more devastating than that was the fact that there wasn't going to be a baby. She would never have Jack's baby.
Then they would talk about Josephine, her 'perfect sister', who managed to snatch up a Duke. Josephine would brag about it herself like it was the most important thing and there wasn't a war on. While Kate knew she was secretly seeing the butler's son. She hadn't made anything official to the Duke.
George and Jo were the favored Crawley children when it came to members outside of the family. As the eldest children, they were expected to have high expectations. Perhaps Jo couldn't handle the pressure. She was a lot like their mother at that age.
"Either you have it or you don't."
She turned around on her heals to face the ladies. "I don't appreciate being insulted. My husband just died." She felt like slapping them, to cry in anger.
She turned to storm away but someone grabbed her arm. It was their cook, Ms. McKenzie, often called "Ms. Mac" or simply "Mac" by the family. The girls always had the best relationship with her. She had been a grandmotherly figure to them and had often turned to her for advice. She was only one of the few others that knew Jo wasn't superficial as she appeared, the walls she developed around herself.
Mac shooed the busybodies away.
"You will feel better than this. Maybe not for a long time yet, but you will."
"Will I?"
"Yes. You just keep living. Till you are alive again."
Josephine didn't want to interrupt her sister when she saw her in the cemetery. The town gossips were talking about her. She decided to hang back. Kate would blame her angrily, in her grief. Even if her sister wasn't angry, she would blame her in some way.
She wanted to go comfort her sister but she would be showing weakness and besides Mac had showed up and put an end to it. Good Ol' Mac always knew what to say. She had been the first to advise that she should end it with Billy, and stay with her Duke. Downton's original staff had moved on or were no longer living. Her mother still kept in contact with her old maid, Anna. And her son Johnny had been friends with Andy since childhood.
She worried about her brothers, and all the people they have lost so far.
In times of sorrow or sadness or when she was unsure of what to do, she'd walk through the village, stopping through the graveyard. Often times she came to see Charlotte.
Papa had allowed her to have a grave for her, even though she wasn't from the village, even though there was no body. Her body had been lost at sea. So many other's had been lost. Like Jack. How many of their own would not come back? How many graves would be empty? Mother's and father's burying empty caskets?
The vase was filled with flowers. She sat down on the grass and leaned against the headstone.
They were the same age with the same out look on life, the same dreams, chasing a future just within grasp. Until the wretched war. It took away everything beautiful. It took away something from her papa, long before she was born. She had always felt something missing there, ever since that one day she had witnessed that episode at the breakfast table. It had frightened and also worried her. Now it angered her. She had been denied of that, of knowing what kind of father he could have been. There was no denying that Papa loves her, that he loves all of them but something in him had gone away.
It takes papas away too. Young lovers, friends, that you should be with for ever, parents burying sons and daughters that should outlive them. War kills everything.
In her mind she could see her dearest friend as if she was with her, sitting next to her, could hear her voice, the musicality of it being carried on the wind.
Not everything.
Her mind went back to the flowers.
There was still beauty in the small things.
More worse news was to come. George was listed missing in action a month later in October. Mary thought she'd seen him in one of the beds, among the other soldiers. She ran upstairs to tell Matthew. He came down, following her as fast as he could. But of course it wasn't him. She was hoping it, that's why she saw him, Matthew thought, she's recalling a familiar memory when he had once lied in one of those beds.
"But, I thought it was him."
"It wasn't him, sweetheart."
They held onto each other.
Matthew was startled awake that it had nearly startled her. He had never had a nightmare about the war in a long time.
"What is it, darling? Is it a nightmare?" She asked him, already turning to comfort him, but he tried to pull away as if he had to get somewhere or to someone.
"He's...he's hurt."
"Who's hurt?" She half expect him to say William, that he had been dreaming about the first war again. Given previous events, with this war escalating, it had been like standing on her toes. Like she was waiting for the shell shock to represent itself. He's stronger than you give him credit for. She heard her son's voice clear as day. She was surprised when their sons name fell off his lips.
"George. He's still alive. But he's hurt. I can't...I can't get to him." His son was lost and in pain and he couldn't do anything.
"You were only dreaming. It was a dream." She tries to calm him, hearing the panic in his voice. He believed that it had been real. Maybe he was still half in a dream.
"No. It was real. He's alive Mary."
"I want to believe you are right. But we can't be certain. I saw George in that bed because I wanted to believe it."
"This was different."
She didn't want to protest him anymore. Let him believe it for now. Part of her old self wanted to surface. She didn't want him to be right, because then that would mean he could sense that their son was hurt, and she could not. "I'll go and check with the war office tomorrow but we can't be certain. Right now, we can only hope."
"And pray."
"Yes. We must pray." Mary agreed, even though she had given up on praying a long time ago. What other alternative was there?
The next evening at dinner Kate announced to her parents that she wanted to sign up with the war office to volunteer.
"I'll be staying in the village for now but I can't sit idly by."
"Sounds good." Her father replied. "I have business to attend to in the morning. I can have the chauffeur drive us into the village tomorrow, so you can register with the war office." And in the mean time check in for George, after Mary. He would have to time it wisely. Then he would go see a doctor in Ripon. The doctor in the village, Dr. James believed the prolonged coughing to be from an infection, chest cold or bronchitis. He wanted to get a second opinion. It wasn't going away. He'd say the same thing and he'd be given another course of antibiotics.
"I hardly think there will be many opportunities. What would they have me do? Changing bed bands for veteran soldiers, or sitting in an office like you, or making tea like Caroline? They're looking for able bodied people. I'm able bodied and useful...sorry papa." She flushed with embarrassment for unintentionally insulting him.
"I know you don't mean anything by it. You're just frustrated." He was often too humble.
Kate nodded and took a sip of her tea. "I was thinking of training to become a nurse."
"You mean like Sybie?" Mary asked, you're not thinking of joining the VAD."
"I promise I won't be volunteering overseas." She wanted to stay near home. They had enough to worry about with George missing. She was more worried about her parents, especially Papa. He would worry about her. Papa loved all his children equally but sometimes she felt that Jo and Caroline were 'his girls" even Sybie. She was the middle child. "I was thinking of volunteering at the war office in Ripon."
"Can't you volunteer here at Downton, like you have been?" Mary was trying to hide her disapproval. It wasn't that she didn't want her to be a nurse, her own sister had wanted to be one. She wanted her daughter to stay closer to home.
"I won't learn real proper skills. I need to train and learn, so that after the war I can find a job."
Mary's tea cup clattered back on her saucer.
"I think it's a marvelous idea." Matthew was encouraging and accepting, how could he not? "After I'm finished with the office, I'll be going up to Ripon. I can see you off at the train station."
"Won't you need assistance? It sounds like you have such a busy day tomorrow. You'll need to rest in between won't you?"
"I'll have my valet along. And I might have to stop by the house for a short R&R. If you don't mind waiting in between."
" No thank you, papa. I'd like to move on as soon as I can."
The rest of the night, Mary was quiet and would only make huffing sounds, while they sat in the library, trying to do his work. He wore glasses now for reading. When he could no longer try to focus, he took them off and looked up at her.
"She's grieving." He said. "In her own way. We need to let her."
"By letting her run away from her problems?"
"She's not running away. She needs to be somewhere that isn't a reminder."
"She'll be surrounded by wounded soldiers. How is that not a reminder?"
"It will help her, if she helps someone."
"One of your insufferable flaws." She didn't mean for it to sound harsh to hurt him. You've sent our sons away, now you want to send away our daughter? She knew that it wasn't his fault. It couldn't have been avoided. It seems they'd been distant since Andy had gone away. She couldn't imagine how this was effecting him, because he wouldn't let her see. It was just as hard. He always looked for the positive, every silver lining, putting others before himself, it was a far cry than the damaged and scarred man he had become in the first war. He was moving on. Without her. She had her own damage and her own scars. Their sons risking their lives everyday. They might lose their daughter too, in a different way. And he was the one holding the family up, through these dark, depressing times, never thinking of himself.
Her dear, sweet, Matthew. How did she ever get to deserve him?
"We can't hang onto her forever, old girl." It was a new term of endearment that he had started to call her. He took her in to his arms, pulling her to him, wrapping his arms around her. "We can't hang on to all of them. They're growing up. We need to stand back and let them find their way or they'll never find their place in this world." She knew he was right. "I see no harm in it. It will help her get her mind off things."
"Carrie still needs some mindful watching. She's only seventeen."
"Almost seventeen. You might be right there, but I know she can do alright for herself. They all will."
November 1944
Brancaster's grounds had been transformed, planes constantly going overhead as the men practiced, (that was much needed) the hum-drum of the engines and propellers became a nuisance to Carrie, at least. She still thought of and payed her respects to the fallen pilot's grave, buried on her Uncle's land.
It would mean she would get to see him more with the training of the new pilots. But when she went to see the Captain he was always busy or give her the cold shoulder. Him being busy she could buy.
It was because of the night they shared. He told her about the life they could have, a house on the countryside, lots of children, how they would travel the world, and then he suddenly turned back on his word. Maybe if she tried to convince him, he would leave his wife. She had already poisoned his children against him, a son and daughter, a good opportunity to start over.
She greeted the pilots as she did every morning, knew all their faces by heart. Today however there was a man she had never seen before but somehow looked familiar. He had dark hair a bit of a pale complexion, not tanned like the other men from spending long hours in the sun. He had to be new.
He smiled and waved at her as she made her way to the Captain's tent, waving and smiling back at him nervously.
The Captain Goodfellow wasn't 'in'
"It's his last day. He's being transferred." His replacement said.
She left angrily. She saw the new pilot, milling about, hands in his pockets. It felt like he was watching her, with curiosity and concern. She was going to storm over to him and ask what his problem was. As she approached him a strange calmness came over her.
He introduced himself to her. "Miles Finch." He put his hat under his arm, outstretching his hand but it went unshaken. "You're the Marquis's daughter?"
"No. He's my Uncle. I take it this is your first day?"
She was distracted by the sound of a car's wheel crunching gravel, another one fallowed. She noticed one of the vehicle's as the family car. The Captain was getting out of the first car just as her father was getting out of the second. He was walking toward Lucas.
Papa doesn't look to happy. How could he have found out about him? Everyone knew she was going with him but not that he was married.
"Oh no." She gasped.
"Is something wrong..."
She was already heading over. Miles followed after her, hearing the raised voices of the two gentlemen who had just arrived. One of them he recognized immediately as Captain Goodfellow. The Captain had quite the reputation with the ladies.
The girl looked similar to the second older man. He must be her father. At first he thought it was someone else's father that found about the captain and he was finally getting what was coming to him. He didn't think someone so 'pure' and innocent looking would get tangled up with the Captain. Then again maybe that's why all these young women fall for his lies and false promises.
"Stop your wife harassing mine about this slander against my daughter! I shall take you to court for liable."
The Captain's reply was indecipherable but his body language was pretty clear. The next thing they knew, her father swung at the Captain, knocking the Captain flat.
It appeared to physically drain the older man, his legs giving out. He seemed to have prevented it, as if not to give the Captain the satisfaction, till he stormed off, giving an obscenity about his wife, that he'll make sure that bitch won't list Carrie's name in the papers.
She demanded Miles to get his wheelchair from the back of the car. He was quick to jump into action, even before she finished her sentence, his instincts from his training kicking in, Carrie wondered.
He retrieved it from the back and helped her maneuver him into the wheelchair.
"Are you alright Papa?"
"Yes, quite alright. I haven't done anything like that in a long while."
"I can't imagine anything of the sort!" She turned to Miles, "Private...can you grab me a blanket from the back seat? There should be one." Miles grabbed it and handed it to her. She put the blanket on her father's lap, tucking it in on the sides. He didn't understand it or what the significance of it could be, but he watched on admiringly.
She had so much attentiveness and caring for her father. He would have to come round as often as he could while she was staying at the castle for he didn't know when he would see her again.
"Do you want me to go get one of the servants to bring you inside?"
"No. Push me closer so that I can watch the planes."
She pushed the chair forward but seemed to be having some difficulty.
"Are you sure it's not too heavy for you?" Her father said in a teasing manner. Caroline gave a sigh.
"No, papa."
"Have that nice young man help you."
"I don't know if he's nice. I only just met him."
Yes, he most defiantly had to see her again.
It was a week later, when he approached her in the garden. She was sitting on the hill, drawing with the boys, Nathaniel and Jay, well he was nearly sixteen now.
He was on house arrest after trying to pull what Andy did. That morning they discussed it over breakfast.
"They laughed me right out of the war office."
"Serves you right." His mother said. "I'll figure out some way to punish you."
"I know, he can spend the whole day with me and Nathaniel." Carrie suggested. She'd go out and draw the beautiful grounds. Sketching would be perfect activity for them both.
Jay groaned deeply as if spending time with his cousin was torture. His pride being hurt would have been punishment enough.
"You get one piece of parchment each. They're rationing paper now." An idea hit her. "Hold on. I might have some left over in my sketch book. I'll be right back. And don't go anywhere because I'll know about it."
"How will she know?" Nathaniel asked Jay.
"Because she's got eyes on the back of her head, that's why. Until she gets back I'm in charge of you."
She was bringing out her sketch pad, along with more pencils when she bumped into him, sending the materials everywhere.
"I didn't know you draw."
She quickly tried to hide them, covering them up with her notebook. He helped her pick up the pencils.
"You shouldn't hide them. I'm sure whatever you draw is lovely."
She stood up, clearing her throat. "I think it's none of your business." She then noticed his arm in a sling. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. How's the arm?"
"I injured it test flying the new planes. The doctor said I might need another surgery."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I gather flying isn't in my future. I'm surprised I made it this long. I make an awful pilot."
Her look of sympathy and concern suddenly gave way to suspiciousness. "You're not stalking me are you?"
He slightly laughed. "No. I was generously referred to the best convalescent home in all of Yorkshire on the peaceful countryside. I had no way of knowing that you live here. I would join you but I'm afraid I won't be writing or drawing for a while and I can see that you're busy." He nodded toward the two boys on the hill. "Looks like you got your hands full."
"Yes."
"Very well then." He started to turn his back to her.
"No, I mean...It's alright. You can join us. They're just my cousins. Maybe you can help look after them."
"I'll do what I can. Though I'm not sure what young boys are like these days. I'm an only child. Are you?"
"I have two sisters..." He walked with her up the hill.
Why did she not add that she had two brothers? She asked herself, only to come up with an answer herself.
George had been gone so long, it felt like she didn't know him (she was only a child when he had left and now he was missing) and Andy was a stranger, leaving their family the way he did.
She supposed it was easier not to think about it.
George's status changed from missing in action to listed as officially declared missing in action, feared dead, in the span of a month. The whole house was silent. No one said a word. Matthew threw himself into his work as usual when he wasn't making inquiries. While Mary took to their room. Edith urged her out of bed but it was no use. She then offered to take things over at the convalescence. Mary was thankful at first of course, had viewed Edith's taking charge as an act of kindness. But was quick to see it for what it really was.
A way for her to take advantage of her vulnerable state, to force her way into their childhood home and run it herself. Brancaster was struggling financially. Bertie didn't believe it would survive much longer after the war. He was already thinking of selling it off and downsizing. Edith didn't appreciate being knocked down a peg, Mary thought, always holding her higher rank and title over her head. What was a title without an estate?
Matthew was generous enough to let them stay here until they decided what to do.
But if her sister thought she would just stay in her rooms the whole time, consumed by her sadness and worry, she was wrong.
She stormed past the drawing room, the gallery and the ball room. Each had been made into distinctive wards for specific injuries, past the enameled beds with brass bars, much like the one's twenty years ago, when Matron stopped her.
"Has my sister sent you, so you can shoo me away and report back to her? To make sure I don't lift a finger?"
"Lady, Mary..."
"This is my home. My husbands, and My children's someday. It is where the Earl and Countess of Grantham reside. I will go where and whenever I please." She went on through the wards.
One of the nursing sisters was with a patient.
"Sister, how are your patients today?"
"Some better than others. He's asked my to thank you again for helping him write a letter to his mother." She nodded toward the young patient.
"I hope his recovery is a success."
"Is there anything else I can help you with, my lady?"
"I was wondering if you knew where Lady Hexham is."
"I'll believe you'll find her in her office."
The 'office" was their father's old library on the bottom floor. Matthew used the one converted on the second floor that had been converted into their quarters upon marrying. It was considerably cramped and small. Mary hardly saw it as fair. Matthew had persisted that is was fine. He liked the peace and quiet.
Her sister was taking over everything, not in a sufficient way either. She thought it was incredulously sloppy. She was going to tell her thoughts.
She drew in a breath before knocking on the door, the bitter taste of having to knock on her own doors was a slight annoyance. She was greeted by a 'yes, come in."
"My darling sister, how good of you to stop by."
She was greeted by the back of her sister, her strawberry-blonde hair starting to gray. Sending her son away to school on the countryside didn't appear to be going easy on her, along with running a convalescence. It would be easy for anyone to think her soft and compassionate, toward others perhaps but to Mary she was unhappy and always miserable always wanted to be above her, ever since they were children. Edith would always feel like she was beneath her older sister, despite her title. Hell, being friends with her husband didn't seem to be enough for her to put it all aside. She never liked their relationship but she had some respect. Now she felt like Edith was taking advantage of her husband's hospitality.
"I want to talk about how things are run here. More specifically how you're running things into the ground. You know I have more than enough work to keep this house running on a quarter of it's staff with or without forty-three patients, three doctors, six general service members, a matron, a quarter master and yourself in residence?"
"Then tell me, how you would do it better?"
"The land girls for starters. We need to at least cut them back, to save money in order to continue to take care of the soldiers here and make sure they get the proper rest and care. And then there's the damage..."
"What kind of damage? I wasn't aware of any..."
"I spoke to some of the nurses about minding that the patients don't throw cricket balls inside. Ms. Mac found that the silk wallpaper in the blue bedroom was scuffed after someone bounced a rubber ball against it."
"Soldiers aren't allowed in the bedrooms."
"Some of them are bored, curious young soldiers, wanting nothing more to heal so they can get back to the battlefield. For some of them, it's a slow process. They wonder off. Do you expect all of them to follow the rules?"
"That could have been done by the children, a long time ago."
It took everything inside Mary not to loose it.
"If we let go a majority of the land girls we can hire more nurses to keep a closer eye on them, make sure they don't wonder off. Some of them could hurt themselves."
"I'm sure we can do that but who would look after the tenant farms. We'd still need the money coming in."
"Matthew and I came up with a solution."
"What you mean by you and Matthew, you mean Matthew."
"They're transferring Italian POWs for land work."
"You mean prisoners, they're coming here?"
"They'll be lodging in the cottages. That's why we need to free them up. I was thinking of keeping one or two of the girls on at least. They could stay with the Thompsons."
"Anything else?" Anything else you want to tell me I'm doing wrong and that you can do better?
"One of the cooks, that used to be one of the land girls, broke several dozen eggs this morning."
"What would you have me do about it?"
"I came up with a solution to that as well. She can stay on if she goes back to what she was doing before and if she works hard enough. That's how I'll decide which two of them will stay."
Carrie hadn't seen Miles for a few days, until he walked through the gate, sitting down next to her on the hill.
"I had my surgery." He said, indicating to his arm.
"Is it temporary?"
"I'm not in any danger of losing it but my surgeon is concerned that I might lose some mobility in it if I'm not too careful. I told them as long as I'm able to rejoin my men..."
"Rejoin?"
"Are you alright? You've gone a bit pale."
"I just hate to think of you out there getting hurt again."
"I understand. My father worries about me. I'm not married, have no children and I'm an only child. But he will worry regardless, whatever I do in the war."
"It's just you and your father then?"
He nodded. "For a long time." There was briefly a bit of pain in his voice. "But he's getting old." He tried to brush his hand off in the grass. She took it, picking of every piece of grass. "I'd be transferring to the horse guards. Nothing too extravagant."
"What did you want to see me about?"
"What makes you think I wanted to see you?" She blushed but he thankfully didn't notice. She did notice that she was still holding his hand and dropped it, only making her face warmer. She turned away from him, staring out at across the Yorkshire Downs, imagining herself and her siblings running across them as children, imagining simpler times.
"I was wondering if you wanted to go to the village concert with me next week."
"It seems we have one every week."
"What? Can't have too many of 'em. It does a lot of the soldiers good."
"Does it?" She continued to stare ahead in silence.
"Will you?"
"Sure. Why not?"
The girls in the village couldn't stop talking about it, as if it was the only one they've ever had. Since the was there had at least been three. They talked about who they were going with, who was coming.
"Pilots!" One of the land girls said. Carrie believed her name to be Ruth, was saying it enthusiastically to Betty. "Lots and lots of Pilots!"
"If you like pilots so much why don't you marry one?" Betty asked.
"Maybe I will."
Carrie's stomach filled with butterflies as she thought about Miles, nothing like she had felt for Lucas where the butterflies tended to sink like stones. Or it could be due to not feeling well. She'd been feeling sick quite a lot lately.
The feeling wouldn't go away, not even as she scanned the crowd and could not find him. Maybe he was called back already. Her heart thudded faster at the thought of never seeing him again.
Why should she care? She only saw him a few times.
Then she started to worry, what if something had happened with his arm and he had to be transferred to a hospital or something? What if he had to have it amputated, like Uncle Bertie?
"Can I have this dance?"
She spun around to the sound of Miles's voice. Everything in her relaxed.
"You look beautiful."
"Thank you." She wasn't used to compliments or the flutter of her heart anytime she was near him.
"I've got this for you." He produced an orange flower she had failed to notice in his good hand.
"An Orchid! Where on earth did you get this?"
"From Lord Overton's gardens. He's a friend of mine. I told him all about you and out of sympathy let me pick anything to my liking."
She stepped closer, closing the gap between them so that she could put her arms around her shoulders, careful not to crush the exquisite and rare flower and his arm.
"Unique and beautiful, just like you."
"Does it hurt, dancing this close?"
"Not in the least bit."
The song finished and he asked her for a walk. He was staring at her oddly under the moonlight.
"I've seen you before."
"Yes. We've seen each other a few times." She couldn't help but laugh at him. He sounded like he should get his head examined or had too much too drink.
"No, I mean...on your Uncle's estate, when that soldier fell into the fields."
"What? That was you? Why didn't you say anything?"
"I didn't know, wasn't sure until tonight. You were a bit younger then. But I can see the resemblance now. I thought it stupid of me that I didn't speak up, get your name. I feared I would never see you again after that day."
"Can I tell you something?" For a moment he feared she was going to tell him to clear off that she didn't feel the same way, "I felt the same way. I couldn't be sure that it was you but I should have. No one has eyelashes like that."
He laughed. "True. So I've been told." They took in their surroundings as they continued walking. "Do you feel that way now?"
What was she doing out walking in the dark with this stranger.
"I...don't know."
"I do." He asked her questions, what she wanted out of like, what she wanted to do once the war was over.
She had answered all of them the way he had hoped. She wasn't superficial like most women he met.
"I just want to be around people who care about me. There's nothing wrong wanting those things but I want more."
"I want more too. I don't want to just spend these few days with you. I want it to be a hundred, no a thousand days if I could...ever hope you'd spend them by my side."
"Miles...are you saying..."
He got down on one knee and took her hand in his.
"I don't know when this war will be over but what I do know is that I want to be with you. If you'd do the honor of being my wife."
"Oh Miles..." Tears started to fill her eyes, what he mistook for tears of joy. She started to withdraw from him. "No."
"No?" He was shocked and hurt. More confused.
"I can't."
"If you're not sure, I'll wait."
"No. You don't understand. No one would want me."
"How could anyone not want you?"
"I just can't."
"Please don't tell me I've just ruined things between us. That I won't see you again. I can't lose you again. At least let me court you. The old fashioned way. We'll go for dinner, maybe a film?"
She nodded.
Josephine stepped out for a break between her performances and watched her sister running through the snow, when her eyes caught him. The young man that had taken interest in Carrie. She had seen them spending a lot of time together.
It appeared he had upset her sister in some way. She debated weather she should approach him or chase after Carrie.
She can take care of herself.
But she still watched to see that the man didn't followed her. With his hands in his pockets, he kicked at the snow, then turned in the opposite direction.
"I'd like to be a friend if you let me past all those prickles." It was Nick. She gathered the courage to face him, relieved that the feeling of her stomach being in knots had passed.
"Listen, Nicholas, I had a good time tonight."
"I did too. I haven't danced in who knows how long. It's left me a bit dizzy."
"Maybe it was the five or six drinks you had."
"Or maybe it's how beautiful you look."
She could see it coming from a mile away. He was going to kiss her. As he made a move to do so, instinct had her head turn away.
"I'm sorry, Nick, really. But I can't even think of that, like that. I like you but...you see, it's quite impossible."
"Why? It's not like I'll get blown up tomorrow."
She felt like herself start to panic, her heart starting to race as she recalled the incident at Dot's party when she was fifteen and that boy had followed her. If Nick decided to do something, she doubted that Billy would be nearby to save her this time.
"I'm sorry for making you angry, if I led you on..."
"No. I should apologize. And I'm certainly not angry but I can't say I'm not a bit disappointed. I guess my bloated ego expected a different reaction. I shouldn't have assumed. But I can say that I can't think of anyone else I'd rather spend my time with, prickles and all."
The air-raid siren cut through the peaceful night and falling snow. She looked up at the sky slightly and gave a sigh or relief. People were coming out of the village hall to seek shelter.
"I'll walk with you."
"My sister...I just saw her walk off. She looked upset and she probably didn't hear the siren. I have to go find her."
"I'll go with you."
"No, that's ok.."
"I'll help you find her." It was Carrie's male friend. "I'm the one who upset her. I should help look for her."
Nick and Miles, he called himself walked with her. Miles stayed close to her as if he didn't trust Nick, to make sure he didn't try anything, not wanting her to walk alone with a strange man. This stranger was looking out for her on her sister's behalf. She'd give him that.
As always it had just been another drill, but one could never be too sure.
Betty and Ruth were the only two land girls remaining. The rest had been replaced with Italian prisoners to save money.
"Awfully cheep aren't they?" Ruth asks. They were pitching hay in one of the barns.
"It takes a lot of money to run a house like that. It's going toward a good cause, to help the soldiers."
"I know how the aristocracy works! They take advantage of everyone. They're doing their bit so they can say they did something."
"I don't think the Crawley's are like that."
"We don't even know them. They kicked you out and made you go back to this sweaty work."
"They're giving me another chance, aren't they?" Betty sighed, wiping the sweat from her brow. "You talk like you know from experience. Did someone do something to you?"
"I just...knew someone like that is all."
"Just because one of them is like that, doesn't mean all of them are. I heard a lot of good things about his Lordship, how kind he is. I can't speak for the whole family but at least he's not. I don't think his son is and what they say about the daughters."
"Not the oldest one. I heard she's cold as an ice box. Doesn't look twice at people like you and me."
"I believe what they say is true about the earl though. He's just not the same since he got the news, keeps to himself and such since his son went missing. I hope he's found soon."
"I doubt it. The longer time goes on there's a less likely chance."
Betty ignored her and continued to work, wiped off the sweat again, stopping to catch her breath. "I belong in the kitchens."
As if fate itself agreed, she was informed that they needed an extra hand in the kitchen for dinner that weekend.
She thought of catching a hare to make a good dinner, which was impossible these days, with the rationing, using all natural ingrediencies to cut corners, would be a sure thing. The family would love it and they would invite her to work in the kitchen again and especially get back into Lady Mary's good graces.
An Italian POW offered to help her. The groundskeeper saw no harm in it and gave them the go ahead.
She was fascinated that he caught it with his bare hands. He told her he used to work at his families restaurant.
"Your English is really good."
"It has to be, to be able to speak with the customers. Sometime we get English speaking ones. Before the war I would own a restaurant but now I'm fighting a war I don't want."
She wondered if that's what they all thought, even the Germans. They were probably all told the same lies.
"I used to help my father with the traps on our farm." Betty said. "I live with my Aunt now. She never married."
"Doesn't she miss you?"
"I think she's glad that I'm doing my bit for the war."
He helped her pick the vegetables and some of the wild vegetation. She was about to pick some mushrooms. He stopped her, grabbing for her hand.
"No!" She almost tumbled over. "Sorry that I scared you. Those are poisonous. You don't want these." He pointed to another, "These."
"Right. I should have known. I recognize them now. I should have been paying attention. That wouldn't have been good if I gave the whole family food poisoning. They would have carted me off to prison rather than back home."
"Maybe it was my handsome face have distracted you." He smiled and had the most gorgeous dimples when he did so. Betty had to smile.
"Betty." She introduced herself.
"Palo."
"How do you know so much?"
"I live with my grandmother. She is master chief of Italian food. She picks her own ingredients and showed me what can be eaten and what cannot. She taught me to cook the most delicious dishes. chicken cacciatore, have you heard of it?"
"Can't say that I have. We don't get much Italian food here."
"Right." He slightly laughs. "It's chicken with tomatoes and mushrooms in a tomato sauce."
"You have most of the ingrediency here. I can cook a magnificent chicken cacciatore. I show you the recipe. They will love it! You go back to cooking in kitchen!"
"Really?" She stood up, picking up her basket. Suddenly it felt too good to be true. Where would she find the time? She doubted she'd be able to be left alone with him again. They'd be under watchful eye. "That would be wonderful but how would we meet?"
"I will find a way to meet you. We have Sundays off. You can join me then."
"I suppose..."
"We can meet by the old shooting shed. I discover first day here. Do you think you can find it?"
"Yes. But I'm very busy I don't know if I'd be able to get away."
"Everyone deserves a day off, including you!"
They both smiled at each other.
It was Nick's day off and he asked Jo out to lunch. She had her family were at a bake sale fundraiser at the church. Before he had entered, a young woman had gotten in line beside her, their fingers brushing as they reached for the same muffin. Josephine could feel her face grow warm. Their gazes met, both smiling at each other. She looked no older than her sister Caroline.
The young woman silently recused herself as Nick approached.
"There you are. Your sister said I might find you here."
Caroline was the only one not in attendance, claiming that she was ill, which was so unlike her. She was the most religious one of the Crawley children. Maybe she came to her senses and saw religion for what it really is. I'm just here because Katie hadn't been able to come either, being away with her nursing. And she hadn't wanted her parents to come alone.
"I had a free afternoon and thought I'd ride over. Wasn't sure if I'd get another chance. How would you like to grab some lunch with me."
"I don't know. They might need me here."
"I'm sure they've got everything handled." He looked around at the volunteers who were starting to clean up as it was almost ten-thirty, when the event was supposed to end. "I don't think Matron would mind. She wouldn't even know you were missing. You don't want to turn down a chap on what could be his last free day." He gave her a desperate puppy dog look.
She finally relented.
"Alright, tell you what. I'll clean up here, then I'll go grab my sweater and meet you by the kitchens."
"Deal."
It always is with you Americans. "I can have the chauffer give us a ride."
"No need. I already have a ride. Well, it's my friends motorcycle."
She discovered she had a few things in common with him. He was easy to talk to and she wasn't uncomfortable and repulsed like she had been with the Duke. Maybe she could spend her life with a man like him.
He asked her about her family, how they were doing.
"They're all fine, considering. My brother's been missing since fall." The sound of a pin dropping. "I don't believe he's dead."
"Yes, don't give up hope. It's very possible that you'll hear from him any day now." He sounded as certain as she did. Of course she knew what a great actor he was. "I'd have loved to have met him. With how close you described your relationship."
"As thick as thieves. We all were."
She remembered with a pang the last time they were all together, a few weeks before the war. The boys shouldered their way in through the front door, trying to push past each other, even as young children they had treated everything as if it were a race. Their hair and clothes were drenched, dripping water onto Mac's clean floors. She would scold them later but they would use their charm and all would be forgotten.
"Is the kettle on?" Asked George, "I need something to warm me up, I'm soaked to the skin."
"Not yet, master George. I'm about to make some tea." Mac replied.
"Could you make that hot chocolate?" Andy asked.
"I don't suppose Mac's got anything we can eat." George said.
Jo laughed. She couldn't think of a time where their wasn't food stored away in the cupboards that Mac had made away for them, for when they'd raid the cabinets late at night, to stop them from making a mess.
"As though you've gone without food your whole life." The cook added.
After they had changed into dry clothes they came into the drawing room, just in time as one of the maids delivered the tray.
Her brothers nearly devoured the whole thing.
"Could you eat and you act like a civilized person?" Mac shoved Andy's feet off the table.
"I have to learn to eat quickly, if I'm going to be soldier soon." George said.
An uneasy feeling set in Jo's chest and stomach. Mac showed disapproval. Jo knew that she felt the same way. The cook thought of them as her own children.
"I don't have to mind my manners." Andy said. "I'm not the family prince. I'm not expected to do anything, that all goes to Mr. Fancy pants over here." He points his fork at George.
"Well you're all prince's and princesses."
"Yeah, and I'm the prince of Wales."
"Leave enough for your sisters."
"Oh, come on, Ms. Mac, we all know you have extra's stored away somewhere." Andy responded. Then Johnny Bates would come over and he would flirt with Katie. George would give him a scowl when he noticed what was going on. George would take the silent approach while Andy was more direct.
"I don't think we can be that way again." Jo said, breaking away from the memory. He put his hand on top of hers.
"I had a friendship like that. Back in the orphanage. We were like brothers. The other day I found out what happened to him. A week ago he was reported missing. So we must hold out for hope."
"Yes." He was so different from her brother's. He was tall but dark and robust. There was a debonair about him, a smoothness and expressions, he would only share with her. He moved with a grace an actor should have onstage.
Was this what this was, just an over-exaggerated stage play?
"Would you like some tea?" She removed her hands from his.
"Yes. I would love some tea. A very British thing to break the ice, a cure all to everything."
They went outside for a smoke. As he opened his cigarette case she grabbed one with her long nibble fingers before he could retrieve one for himself, lighting up.
"What, no judgments?" She asked as he looked at her speechless.
"You look very beautiful today."
"I bet you say that to all your little stage girls." She said with a little envy.
"But I only mean it when I say it to you."
This time when he went to kiss her, she didn't turn away.
They kept driving and driving until they arrived at Branchaster, where Nick had to return the bike.
She called home saying she'd be staying with her Aunt and Uncle for a few days.
"How will you get home?" She asked as the walked the grounds of Brancaster Castle.
"I'll going to billet with a friend."
They were going out to watch the pilots train. There she saw the same young woman from the Church. She was in a WAF uniform. Nick went off to join his friend.
"It's you again!" Jo said as the woman approached. "I didn't know they let women be pilots."
"They didn't in the beginning. They must be getting desperate. Annie. Annie Carrington."
"Lady Josephine Crawley."
"A Lady! That's very fancy. Didn't know they still existed." She said with a profound amusement.
"My Aunt and Uncle will have to sell the estate soon. Where do you think the pilots will go?"
"We'll still have permission from the owners, I expect. The Marquess and Marchioness still technically own the land."
Nick came over. "I see you have a new friend."
"We...met at the church."
"Great. So I assume you'll be in great company. I'm going out with the guys for a few drinks. I'll...see you when I see you, ok?" He kissed her and made his way back to a small group of men that had gathered. As they were headed out he turned and waved.
"Take care of her, alright?"
"I will." Annie stepped closer next to Jo. "I know what you are."
"Pardon?"
"You're like me. You can pretend but you'll never be happy with him. There's never a happy ending for people like us."
Betty made a surprise dinner for the family after the first successful meal, the hare with elderberries, Palo gave her advice on how to cook them properly, it had been exquisite! Betty was also becoming efficient when it came to working round rations. Having gained Ms. Mac's confidence, the cook/housekeeper gave her full run of the kitchen. Betty asked for a favor that she have no one in the kitchen while she cooked.
Everyone was anticipating what she had prepared this time.
As the lid was removed, everyone sat in silence and shock.
Ms. Mac moved quickly, ordering 'the monstrosity' be removed, apologizing deeply to the family.
Before the footman, Billy, could take it away, Lord Grantham cleared his throat, putting up his hand. "There's no need for that."
He put some on his plate, not even waiting for the footman to serve him, cut into it and took a bite. "Who made this?"
He hates it. He's going to have me sent home, then Auntie will tell me she told me so. Betty bend her head down. What was it her father had always told her, take responsibility and face your faults.
"I...I did, sir."
"Must I say, this is very quite marvelous."
"Thank...thank you, my lord."
The rest of the guests followed suite, eating in silence.
She ran to her and Palo's meeting place as fast as she could, telling him all about it.
"Well, how was it?"
She shut the shed door behind her.
"It turned out alright but...I shocked them all!"
"That means a good thing that they liked it, no?"
She shook her head. "They didn't like it because it was Italian. I think they hate me now."
"Who could hate you?"
"Lord Grantham seemed to like it."
"There you go, then! That ought to account for something."
Before either of them knew it, they were kissing each other. She was sure it would have gone further, had it not been the knock on the door. But it was too late, they were discovered anyway.
She opened the door. To Ruth.
"You're lucky it's only me. What are you two doing in there?"
"Nothing happened." She turned to Palo and said that he should go back to work before anyone noticed he was gone. He hesitated. She reassured him. "She won't say anything." As he left, she turned back to Ruth, hoping she was right.
"We weren't doing anything."
"Hey, I believe you, virgin."
"How do you know I am?"
Ruth gave a disbelieving look.
"Still if anyone knows we were alone...You're not going to tell anyone are you?"
"Who am I to tell? We all have our secrets."
She saw the earl standing in the hall way, looking out the large bay windows, looking so forlorn. She knew she was supposed to disappear and not speak to any on the family if she saw them coming. She just stayed put, not knowing what to do other than to awkwardly wait for him to walk past her or address her.
He was walking her way now. She closed her eyes praying over and over that he would pass. It's not that she didn't want to talk to him; she was already in trouble with Ms. Mac and she didn't want be sent home to her Aunt.
"You, there, what's your name?"
"Betty, sir. I mean my lord."
"You can call me sir. I'm not really much of a lord, never been one for this sort of life. Sometimes I wonder if I'd become too accustomed to it. Is it short for Elizabeth?"
"What?"
"Your name."
"Yes, sir."
"My daughter's an Elizabeth. Her middle name. Her real name is Abigail but we refer to her as Beth. She died when she was a baby."
"Oh..." It must make it so much harder, thinking about his two sons. She couldn't think or imagine what it was like to possibly lose two more children when you already went through such a great loss. She only knew what it was like to loose not one but two parents. "I think it's awfully horrible not hearing what's happened to your son. You'd think they'd give you an answer."
"Yes. Dreadful, dreadful business."
"I hope it'll be sorted soon. I'll be praying for you and your family, sir."
Ms. Mac came into the hallway, trying to usher her along. "Betty, there you are. Dishes won't wash themselves you know. Come along and stop bothering his Lordship."
"I was just thanking Betty here for the wonderful meal she prepared for us tonight."
"Yes, well..."
"See to it that she isn't punished, Ms. Mackenzie. Though I highly doubt Morrison won't."
Mary had been having tea with Edith, apologizing for the way she had treated her, per Matthew's advice and she felt that he was right. "It was a very difficult time."
"It still its. It still might be a while before we hear anything."
"It made me think assumptions. You were only trying to help make things easier for Matthew and I."
Edith asked about the rest of the family, how her nieces were doing. They didn't talk about Andy as it would lead to talking about George. The topic fell on to Carrie.
"She's been under the weather all week."
"She's not pregnant is she?" Edith asked.
"Why would she be?"
"I can't think of any reason why young women can suddenly become sick, except for one."
Mary had guessed that it had to be it. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. She had had six children after all. Edith only had one, a boy. What would she know? It's a woman's intuition.
Mary entered her daughter's room that evening, hearing her daughter's sobbing.
"Carrie, what it is?"
"It's nothing. Go back to bed, Mummy. I'm sorry to wake you."
"You didn't. Now are we going to tell me about it or not?" When Carrie didn't answer, she gave a sigh, "Very well. You're pregnant, aren't you?"
"How...how did you know?"
"Oh, Carrie, really! Do credit me some sense."
She's laughing at me. Carrie thought. How could she be so mean?
"Did you really think I wouldn't notice? I'm your mother. Not a very maternal one perhaps but still your mother. And I have been pregnant more than a few times myself. Although what is to be done about it. I presume it's your flight captain's."
"Of course!"
"And what does he say about it?"
"He was vile about it. Furious. No concern about me or the baby..."
"And blamed it all on you, I presume. I'm not surprised."
"Oh, Mummy, that's a bit harsh. What do you have against him? It's because he's older, isn't it?"
"That and other things. I've seen you two quarrel a few times. And because of that he's older, he's taken advantage of you in the most appalling way. He seduced you and then did nothing for you, just allowed you to squander your youth and talent for him in return for a bit of sex. Which no doubt was pleasurable..."
"Oh, Mummy, please stop."
"You've gotten yourself into an adult situation so we're going to have an adult conversation."
"I won't marry him. He doesn't want it."
"He only thinks he doesn't. It no doubt immensely shocked him. It's always a shock to any man. The never expect it. It's extraordinary. Your father was always surprised each time I told him I was pregnant."
"But you were already married. And it was hard at first for you and papa. It was thought that you wouldn't have a lot of children. This is different. It's not the same. He won't care."
"He most certainly will. The paternal instinct is surprisingly strong, the urge to protect the female and care for the young."
"I don't see any of that in Lucas." She started crying again. Mary pushed her hair back.
"He's just shocked is all. Whatever he felt when you told him, it will have to change. He'll feel quite differently..."
"But Mummy, I can't marry him. You see, he's already married."
"Yes. Well. I guess it was true then."
"Yes." She said guiltily, no longer trying to hide it. "What am I going to do?"
"I'll think of something."
The solution to their situation was quickly resolved, in the form of the young officer that had taken an interest in Carrie. They had started going together. Miles would take her to dinner and movies when ever he was on leave. Carrie would often try to give him the cold shoulder. Then he had asked her to marry him. He already knew about the Captain and it hadn't been a surprise to him, and hadn't cared that she was pregnant with another man's child. He felt if they ever were to send him to the front, this would be his only chance he got at a family and he believed that he loved her. He had deep feelings for her and when they were together it just felt right.
Carrie was starting to love the thought of being a mother. She was really hoping that it will be a boy. Two girls were lovely. Three children wouldn't be so bad. She thought back to when she had first found out she was pregnant and how scary it had been, how it still was. Not because of her Aunt Sybil dying in child birth, but how it would effect her family, if people ever found out the truth. And most of all she'd been scared of what papa would think. When Mama had offered to help her, she couldn't see any way out of it.
She's ruined. Ruined. Who would want to marry her now? When Miles had offered her marriage she had thought it too good to be true.
"If he doesn't die in the war and is stuck married to me, a woman he finds that he doesn't love, he will come to resent me. And then there's papa. What would he think? It would crush him. He must never find out."
"Your father would never think anything less of you but if it is your wish."
"It is! He has enough to worry. Anyway he'll think it eventually. What do you think I should do?"
"I think...that you should accept Mr. Finch. Trust me when I say that marrying him would be the right thing to do." She continued to help her daughter with her hair, the tracks of the brush making each strand a brighter gold. "You might not get an opportunity again." She gazed at Carrie's reflection, her youngest daughter looking perplexed. It was time to set her mind at ease. "I'll tell you what my maid Anna once told me. Good men aren't like busses. There won't be another one along in ten minutes time."
The announcement of the engagement of Caroline Crawley and Miles Finch was made in the papers. The Earl and Countess threw an engagement party for them.
He was a lovely fellow. Both Mary and Matthew thought. He didn't care about her affair with a married man.
"That takes a strong and noble man to do that." Matthew said. Mary could feel her throat tighten, regretting not telling him the whole truth (that their daughter had lain with a married man and was now pregnant with his child) but it was her daughter's wish.
"Like my little stint with a certain Turkish diplomat?"
"It's hardly the same thing, darling. He took advantage of you. He vio..." He stopped as some guest walked by. "violated you. And as I recall it wasn't your choice and I recalled saying upon you telling me the truth, that I would have shot him if he was still alive."
"Promise me no shooting at the wedding. If that man dares show up."
"Celebratory shots then, I hope." He kissed her cheek.
"What did you mean when you said we all have our secrets?" Betty asked Ruth. They were up in the Thompson's spare bedroom. "It has something to do with your experience with the aristocracy, doesn't it?"
"He was part of it. He promised me the world, that we could have a family. Then when I tell him that I'm caring his child he tossed me aside. My parents sent me to a convent and the nuns took her away from me. And that's why I'm here."
"I can't even imagine..."
"Yes, well, everyone's lost a child, a daughter, a sister, father, mother, in this war. War knows no sex. It doesn't discriminately Betty."
"Can you...tell me about it?"
"I was so sick after I had her. I don't remember much of anything. When I got better I tried to search for her but they said I signed my rights away. But here's the rub I don't remember signing anything and they threatened that if I came back they'd put me in jail."
"Maybe...Maybe if she was taken against your will we can find her. I can help you."
"What good will that do? It was either here of jail. It's wasn't much of a choice, believe me."
"But it was against your will. They forged your signature. Maybe if we proved it...they'd have no choice but to give her back."
She folded her clothes, shaking her head. "No. I think it's too late for that. It was for the best. It has to be."
"At least tell me her name."
"Hazel. Hazel Marie."
"It's a beautiful name. I couldn't even imagine giving my child away like that."
"Well, you couldn't, could you, virgin?"
"Eh, I thought we were getting along."
"And I though we agreed that you'd mind your business. You don't know what it's like in the real world, even though our world's burning down around us. There's nothing romantic about it. And you don't know how hard it is for unmarried woman with a child. What do you suppose I do? Lie and say I'm a war widow? I don't have any family to help raise her."
"Maybe if you apologized they'd help you..."
"What? Go crawling back to them you mean? They had high expectations for me and I'd gone and gotten myself knocked up. I'm showing them by earning my keep. I'm not going back to living in the gutter. I have to do some decent work, then maybe one day I'll find a man, start my life over..."
"But you wouldn't have to keep living a lie...A lot of unwed mother's lie. I'm sure of it. No one will be asking questions. No one has time to be asking to."
"I said no, and I WOULD be living a lie. Either way."
"His Lordship's a lawyer. Maybe he could help you find her, break the contract or something..."
"I said butt out of it." Betty's eyes suddenly widened and she made a dash for the door. It made Ruth think of one of the young mother's in the group home, all sparkly eyed and scared and innocent. She was a Betty too.
With one swift motion, Ruth stopped her, grabbing her hand. "Look, I'm sorry, Betty. I only said I wasn't looking for friends because I'm not good at keeping them, because they all end up leaving me anyway. But I'm trying, yeah?"
The girl nodded and sniffled.
"His Lordship had another daughter. He told me she died when she was a baby. It had me thinking of that. It's all so terribly sad."
"You think everything is terribly sad."
Betty stifled a laugh. "True. Don't you ever wonder if she's out there still alive somewhere, if she's living a good life, if she's warm or cold and has someone to love her?"
"All the time. But it does no good. Now." She shut her trunk. "Enough of this. No tears. Dry your eyes, we haven't the time for that." She picked up one of the frocks she had placed on the bed. "Try this on."
"What for?"
"WE'RE going to a party!"
Betty gasped. "We can't!"
"Haven't you heard? Every one in the house is invited. You work in the kitchens don't you? We'll just stay off in a corner somewhere. It's not like they'll notice us. It's one of those masked things. And even if you are caught, I'm sure you'll be let off."
"How can you be sure."
" His Lordship's terribly fond of you." She tittered. "C'mon. Hurry up, unless your planning to pull a Cinderella and turn into a pumpkin."
"That's her carriage."
"Hmm.."
"It's her carriage that turns into the pumpkin, and the horse into a mouse, not her."
"Whatever, virgin."
"If we're going to be friends, like you said you're trying to, you're going to have to stop calling me that."
"Ok. Deal. Am I supposed to be the horse in this situation?"
"Just get dressed unless you to want run out of time and leave a slipper for prince charming."
"I'm not planning on Prince Charming. I'm leaving that for the end of the war."
Carrie was starting to get cold feet. How much does she really know about him? His friend Lord Overton would know him best. She still didn't know what his connection to the old man was. And Mama was right what choice was there than to marry Miles. He wasn't too bad at all and she was starting to fall for him.
Miles had suggested in his letters that she could visit the old man if she ever felt lonely when he was away but to watch out for his charm and had written to her,
Make sure he doesn't try to steal you away from me. He's quite the ladies man even for a seventy year old.
When she went to go see him that afternoon, she found out what that connection was. Lord Overton was his father, making Miles, Viscount Overton. When he had entered his father's estate unannounced, he had addressed him as father, not knowing that Carrie was in the drawing room with him, having tea.
Miles hadn't mentioned it for many reasons. He wanted people to know him and judge him by his character, not by his status. He wanted to be sure that Carrie wanted to be with him for who he was. She was briefly mad at him for keeping it from her but quickly saw his point of view. Staying mad at Miles for long was something that was impossible, like with her mother and father. Maybe this really was true love.
"You didn't tell me that you had brothers."
"I was a child when my brother left. I hardly knew him. Andy... he just left us."
"I can understand that, I think."
"What do you know? You're an only child?"
"I understand that you felt betrayed. Abandoned." Her face remained unchanged. "I didn't tell you because I wanted you to marry me for me. I'm sorry that I lied. But the girls that showed interest in me before...they only wanted me for my title and money. I had to make sure. It wasn't that I didn't trust you."
"Understandable. But what I don't understand is why you were working for my uncle."
"We needed the money for the estate. We were nearly broke."
Carrie understood that too well. Many houses had already fallen, almost her Aunt and Uncles had and many more would fall after the war. She could only pray that her family would remain standing.
"From now on no more secrets, alright?"
"No more secrets."
"Does that mean you'll still marry me?" Miles asked.
"Of course it does, you silly fool." She took him in her arms and he wrapped his arms around her, giving her the most deep passionate kiss she had ever received.
Their marriage would be set in January while the pregnancy was still not noticeable. Mary and Miles planned she would spend time with his family in Scotland once they were married, and they would go on an 'extended honeymoon."
