While My Heart Beats

by Erin McKenzie

  Once home, she skipped in the door, energized by the afternoon’s eye-opening events. She walked quickly past the parlor, hoping to avoid her mother and spend some quiet time reading in her room.

  “Eleanor, is that you? Come here.”

  Ellie blew out a breath and hung her head. Of course she couldn’t sneak by—the woman had the hearing of a bat. Tucking her book in her coat pocket, she entered the room to find her mother crocheting by the window.

  “Yes, Mother?”

  “Are you just now getting in? I expected you sooner.”

  “I told you I’d return before dinner, which isn’t for another hour. Please tell me you’re not springing another unexpected gentleman caller on me today.”

  “Don’t be insolent. Can’t a mother be glad that her children are home safe and sound?”

  Ellie sighed and turned to leave, nearly colliding with the butler.

  “I beg your pardon, Miss Eleanor. The mail has arrived.”

  “Thank you, Lyle.” Ellie took the stack of envelopes from him.

  “Will there be anything else, miss?”

  When Ellie smiled and shook her head, he nodded and left.

  “Eleanor, sort through the mail, will you? I want to finish this section.”

  Ellie flipped through the items. “Papa’s, Papa’s, oh, here’s a telegram addressed to you, Mother.”

  “Really? Well, open it. What does it say?”

  As she read the telegram, all other thoughts flew from her mind, and her heartbeat pounded in her ears. “Oh God.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s from Aunt Evelyn. Charlie and Will were killed at the Battle of Loos, it says, two weeks ago.”

  Mother’s shock was evident as she dropped her needlework, the blood draining from her face. “My poor sister…both boys.” Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a sob.

  Ellie stood, silent, the telegram still clutched in her fingers. Images of her cousins, handsome twin boys of nineteen, raced through her mind, and she couldn’t stop her tears from flowing. She remembered their holiday two summers past, before this bloody war, when she, Theo, and Mother had traveled from Surrey to Lancashire. She’d had such a wonderful time with the boys, laughing and joking as they picnicked and swam. They’d had such fun wagering chocolates on their fierce croquet matches and taking long, leisurely rides on the horses. She could picture them now, tall and fair, their blue eyes sparkling with humor and mischief. They were the pride and joy of their parents—how devastated Auntie Evelyn and Uncle Rupert must be.

  Ellie’s experience of the war had largely been through newspaper headlines and local gossip, until now. Now, the dead had familiar and much-loved faces. Reality had come knocking, ready to rob them all of their blissful ignorance. Her chest hurt with an ache she’d never felt before, and she pressed her fist there, silently beseeching her heart to calm.

  “I should go to Evelyn,” Mother said, standing abruptly. She’d allowed herself to cry for a few moments, then, ever the pragmatist, began to plan. “She’ll need family with her now.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  Ellie jumped as her brother entered the room, his heels striking too heavily on the parlor floor. “We’ve had a telegram, Theo. The boys…they’re dead.” Her throat constricted as if squeezed by an invisible hand, and no more words would come.

  “The boys,” Theo repeated. He took the telegram from her hand and read it. “Christ.”

  “Theodore Winthrop, mind your tongue,” their mother said automatically.

  Ellie’s brother was a strapping lad of seventeen and, while generally easygoing, was fully possessed of their mother’s temper when provoked. “Sorry, but for both of them to die—bloody Huns.” His face grew ruddy as he clenched the slip of paper in his fist. “Come December I’ll be eighteen. Then I can join up and fight the devils.”

  Mother gasped. “You’ll do no such thing. I’ll not lose my son, too.”

  Theo thankfully knew when to shut his mouth. Ellie looked at his baby face and unruly red-blond hair. He may be tall, but he’s just a boy. The thought of him marching off to war made her stomach sick.

  She needed to move, to do something. She walked over to the newfangled telephone on its stand. Mother still regarded it as a passing fad. “Should I ring Papa at the office?”

  “No, Eleanor, you needn’t bother him. We’ll talk later. Now, I’ve got to make preparations. I think taking the train from London would be best.”

  “I’ll go with you, Mother,” she said. “I’m sure Anna will need some support as well.”

  “Oh, dear, poor Anna. I’d forgotten. And to think she and Charlie had planned to be married in the spring.”

  Ellie had known Anna for some years now and loved her like the younger sister she’d never had. She wanted to comfort her in her grief, but—she thought with a twinge of guilt—having an excuse to leave and avoid the hopeful suitors who had somehow found her interesting this past London season sounded like a blessed reprieve.

  “She’ll certainly need her friends beside her.”

  “Very well.” Mother could hardly argue with Ellie’s reasoning. “I’ll be glad for your company on the trip. Theodore, ring for Jones and have her meet me in my dressing room. I must begin packing.”

  A few moments later, the lady’s maid arrived and Ellie approached her. “Yes, miss?”

  “Lady Violet needs you upstairs in her dressing room, Jones,” she told her. “We’ll be packing for a trip.”

  “Yes, miss.” The girl wasn’t much older than Ellie herself, but she looked weary at the prospect.

  “I imagine she’ll only be taking her black dresses—that should pare it down for you,” Ellie said, managing a smile. Jones nodded and hurried away.

  Ellie joined her brother at the window overlooking the colorless, pruned-back west gardens, their soggy drabness matching her deteriorating mood. They were silent for several minutes.

  Then he said, “At least half the boys in upper sixth form are going to join the fight. It’s all anyone talks about at school. I want to join the cavalry so I can ride and work with the horses. We’ve all got to do our bit, haven’t we?”

  “Mother and Papa are never going to allow you to enlist, Theo.”

  “I’ll be eighteen and a man, and I’ll do as I please,” Theo responded. “Besides, Papa will support me. He fought in the Boer War and knows it’s a man’s duty to defend his country. Even Jimmy down at the stables gave Papa his notice this morning.”

  “Oh no. Theo, haven’t you read the papers? This war that was supposed to be buttoned up in six months has only gotten worse. The casualties are quite high.” She noticed he blanched a little at that, but then he lifted his chin.

  “All the more reason for us to band together and overpower the enemy. You won’t change my mind, Ellie.”

  She looked at her little brother, now taller than she was, and felt a profound sense of foreboding. With tears in her eyes, she laid a hand on his arm. “I suppose I won’t, but I shan’t be happy to see you go off to war. It would devastate us all if something happened to you.”

  Theo just looked away, and they stood in silence, gazing out at their corner of the world and wondering what would become of it.

  * * *

  Johanna Lennox boarded the train and found an empty seat, stowing her case on the floor. It was the last leg of her long journey from Edinburgh to Boulogne-sur-Mer, and she was tired. Maybe she could get a wee bit of rest…

  “Oh, hello.”

  Johanna blinked at the young woman who had just taken the seat across from her, looking so cheerful she thought she might burst. Johanna could tell she was a new recruit, dressed up in her chambray blue uniform with perfectly starched white apron and cap, and hadn’t seen a speck of this horrible war in person. She nodded and averted her eyes, not in the mood for idle chit-chat, but she feared that wouldn’t stop the lass from trying.

  “Excuse me, Sister.” Johanna sighed inwardly, her fears affirmed. �
�Are you headed to the coast? It would be ever so funny if we were going to the same place, don’t you think? This’ll be my first posting, mind—I’ve come straight from training, but I’m ever so excited to care for our brave Tommies at the front. I’m Fannie Gibson, by the way.”

  Johanna looked at the outstretched hand before her, then up at the girl’s sweet, oblivious smile. Summoning a fair bit more human decency than she felt at the moment, she shook Fannie’s hand. “Johanna Lennox.”

  “It’s ever so lovely to meet you, Miss Lennox. The other girls and I,” Fannie said, nodding toward the adjacent seat’s occupants, “we’re VADs.”

  The chipper little thing seemed so proud that Johanna managed not to roll her eyes. The Voluntary Aid Detachments had exploded with legions of eager young women looking to find a bit of excitement in the war zone, but she’d yet to determine if they were of a tough enough constitution to do the work they were headed for. Johanna nodded and looked out the window at the deceptively idyllic countryside passing by. After two years of training in Edinburgh and London, she was headed to a base hospital on the northern coast of France. Her patients at home had been weeks or months removed from the battlefield, but their wounded bodies and minds told the story of what they had been forced to endure. She was impatient to be of greater service to the men out there in the thick of it.

  “We’re going to be setting up a canteen at the station, they told us. We’ll serve soup and cocoa and…Oh, look! Aren’t they handsome?”

  The chatterbox’s face was pressed to the window. They were slowing down as they approached the rail station, and Fannie had caught sight of a detachment of British soldiers marching by. Johanna took a closer look at the men that had Fannie all atwitter. They looked grim and worn out to her.

  “Just in from the front, I reckon,” she remarked.

  “Oh, the poor dears,” Fannie moaned, her hands clasped to her bosom in overly dramatic fashion.

  Johanna sighed, feeling a great deal older than her twenty-four years. “We are in a damned bloody war, you know. I hope you don’t expect things to be all waving flags and fancy parades.”

  Fannie looked at her, shocked. Perhaps the coarse language had offended her. Johanna stifled a smile, hoping she had knocked a bit of innocence off the lass. She’d need a much thicker skin if she was to survive here. Johanna sighed again and looked away, noticing her own reflection in the window—her dark hair was a bit mussed, and frown lines creased her pale face. Go easy, Lennox—no need to be such a bloody cynic.

  “Well, of course…Mummy told me it would be difficult, that I mightn’t like it one bit,” Fannie said. She lowered her voice and said in a loud whisper, “I’ve seen men with missing arms and legs, you know. We got quite used to it in training.”

  “And what made you decide to join the VADs?” Johanna didn’t really want to prolong this conversation, but she had a sneaking suspicion.

  “Oh, for the adventure,” Fannie replied, confirming her guess. “Nothing exciting ever happens at home, and all the boys have gone off.” Seeming to remember herself, she sobered. “But mostly, I joined up to offer my services to my country and its brave fighting men.”

  This time Johanna couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Och, lass, we’ll see what you’re made of soon enough.”

  Chapter Two

  As the train rumbled north, Ellie was struck by how much things had changed since the last time she’d traveled. She’d been younger then, of course, but so fancy-free, so happy about going on holiday. The hustle and bustle of people, the sounds and smells of the big city had been so exciting. Her memories were vivid, colorful, and so very different from what she saw before her now.

  She’d been particularly focused on people today and hadn’t seen a single smile, even on the faces of children. Everyone seemed so serious, so careworn, and Ellie wondered how many had experienced what her aunt and uncle were now facing. A great many, she imagined, glancing down at the copy of The Times she’d purchased in London. Today’s published casualty list had filled two full pages. Looking out the window, she could at least see splotches of color in the passing autumn countryside, reds and yellows improving the dreary palette of gray, brown, and so much black surrounding her.

  Mother stirred in her seat across from Ellie and opened her eyes. “Dear me, I must’ve dozed off. Where are we?”

  “Nearly there, I think. Who’s meeting us?”

  “Rupert is sending the car,” Mother replied.

  Ellie’s breath hitched as a pang of anxiety stabbed her chest. “I’ve no idea what to say,” she said, her eyes burning with tears. “How can we possibly ease their pain?”

  “We’ll provide whatever is needed, even if that means just sitting with them in silence. I learned that when your Grandmama passed. Knowing that others share your grief sometimes helps. I do admire you for wanting to come, Eleanor. I’m afraid it won’t be a very pleasant visit.”

  “I know, but I couldn’t just sit at home thinking about it. One cannot help those in need if one is not willing to experience some discomfort,” she said.

  Mother looked at her strangely.

  “What is it?” Ellie asked.

  “That was a very wise thing to say, Eleanor. Just so—we’ll support them however we can.” She reached out and gave Ellie’s hand an awkward pat. “The loss of Charlie and Will has reminded me that we mustn’t take our loved ones for granted. Thank you for coming with me.”

  Ellie caught her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, touched at this rare expression of affection from her undemonstrative mother. “You’re welcome.”

  * * *

  The black band of mourning stood out in sharp relief on the chauffeur’s white sleeve as he opened the car door. “Phillips, isn’t it?” Ellie asked, accepting his hand.

  “Yes, miss.”

  “How have things been for you all, Phillips?”

  The old chauffeur looked at her in surprise. “I shouldn’t like to speak out of turn, miss, but it’s been a terrible shock. The young masters were so full of life, they were.”

  “Yes, indeed. I imagine it’s been difficult for everyone. Do let me know if I can help, won’t you?”

  Phillips’s eyes widened, but he touched his cap with a nod. “Thank you, miss.”

  Mother gave Ellie the familiar look of reproach she used when she’d committed some real or imagined breach of etiquette. “Why must you carry on such overly familiar conversations with the staff?” she whispered. “It’s unseemly.”

  Ellie sighed. “That was hardly a conversation, Mother, and why should it be unseemly to offer sympathy to another person? Phillips and most of the others have known the boys since they were babies. I’m sure some sense of grief has traveled downstairs.”

  Mother sniffed. “Still,” she said. “You know I’m just trying to raise you to be a respectable young lady.”

  “I am well-educated, well-read, and well-dressed. I have never kissed a boy, and I eat my soup with the correct spoon. I’m fairly certain that qualifies me as respectable.”

  Mother just huffed and looked out the window. She didn’t speak again on the drive, and Ellie tamped down her irritation at her old-fashioned ways. Mother had been raised to observe a very strict delineation between the social classes, something Ellie often chafed against, to her mother’s great embarrassment. She was not unkind, exactly, but she expected people to know their places and stay there. There was no point in arguing—Ellie didn’t expect her to change.

  Black armbands were present on all four of the staff who met their arrival. Ellie looked at the manor, its gray stone bearing dark streaks from a recent rain, and fancied that even the house seemed melancholy. As the footman helped them out of the car, Aunt Evelyn emerged from her home. She was dressed all in black and looked as if she hadn’t slept in days.

  “Oh, Evelyn,” Mother said, clasping both her hands and kissing her cheek.

  “It’s good of you to come, Violet,” Aunt Evelyn said quietly. “And Ellie, it�
�s lovely to see you, my dear.”

  “Aunt Evelyn,” she managed, as her eyes again filled with tears. Any words she’d planned to say seemed so trivial now, in the face of such grief. Aunt Evelyn nodded and patted her cheek, then turned and walked back inside.

  * * *

  After a quiet supper, they all gathered in the parlor, and the grief in the room was almost tangible. Uncle Rupert sat by the fireplace, gazing into the flames, his pipe unlit in his hand, as if he had forgotten what to do with it. Aunt Evelyn sat in her armchair by the window, perfectly still except for the rise and fall of her shoulders when she sighed. Ellie’s mother puttered about, picking imaginary lint off the chair cushions and straightening things that didn’t need to be straightened.

  Ellie watched all of this with a deep sense of despair. She hated that she couldn’t do or say a thing that would really help, and witnessing her aunt’s and uncle’s pain was the worst thing she’d ever experienced. Sitting still, powerless, was driving her mad.

  “Aunt Evelyn, would you like some tea?” she said. When there was no answer, she tried again. “Auntie?”

  Aunt Evelyn started and looked around, blinking until her eyes focused on Ellie. “What? I’m sorry, dear, did you say something?”

  “Yes, Auntie. I was wondering if you might like some tea.”

  “Oh, that’s sweet of you, Ellie. Yes, some chamomile would be lovely. Forgive me, dear—my mind was elsewhere just now.”

  “I’ll ring for it,” Mother said, no doubt happy for something to do.

  Ellie nodded and took her aunt’s hand. “You seemed very far away, Auntie. Are you all right?”

  Aunt Evelyn shrugged. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be all right again, but we must carry on, mustn’t we?”