The butler was circulating with a tray of drinks. In one corner, a quartet of musicians were launching into a melody.
One towering figure was dominating the area where they were headed. Amy shivered a little as Colonel Fairlawn addressed the young men, applauding their determination to join the war effort. ‘My son Wilfrid is a captain now,’ he was telling them. ‘Sadly he wasn’t allowed leave, so he can’t be here this evening. I myself could not be spared from the War Office for long.’
One of the young men asked him about the latest progress at the Front.
‘It’s all going famously,’ he told them.
Edmond seemed to sense Amy’s disquiet and he drew her a little further from the colonel. The latter was greeted by a middle-aged friend and Amy breathed a little more easily as he left their group.
Edmond introduced her and Bertie to some of the other young men, most of whom had joined up. They generally spoke with the same kind of public school accent as Edmond and were courteous to her. Even so, when they began talking of hunting and weekend shooting parties on someone’s country estate she felt like an outsider, and doubtless Bertie did too. He had told her that most of the others on his officer training course had attended a public school, and that some disdained his humbler background. ‘If I try to join their conversation they’re liable to ignore anything I say,’ he had complained. She knew what he meant. If she happened to meet Beatrice in a local shop the older girl barely returned her greeting, looking beyond her as though she were invisible.
One of Edmond’s friends, Charles Shenwood, was tall and confident-looking with black curly hair. He was describing Paris, with its sights, and prominence in art and ballet, having visited the city earlier that year. Amy had never had the opportunity to travel abroad, but descriptions of his experiences made her long to go to France.
‘You’ve been abroad, haven’t you, Edmond?’ she said. ‘Did you visit Paris?’
‘Only briefly, I’m afraid, en route to Italy.’
‘When we get sent abroad I’m hoping I can wangle some leave there,’ Charles told them. ‘It’s well south of the Front, of course.’
Soon the butler announced that the buffet dinner was served. Edmond steered Amy into a large reception room at the side of the house, which had a long dining table, lit by dozens of candles. Beyond, there was a way through to a leafy area at the front of the house, which looked like a conservatory.
The table was stacked high with platters of ham and turkey, salmon and pies. Two maids were cutting portions and serving the guests. ‘Try some of the game pie,’ Edmond advised her, pointing out the dish. ‘It’s Cook’s speciality.’
Amy nibbled, scarcely hungry, a little overcome by the occasion and the way Edmond had singled her out for attention. She was thankful to have an ally in Florence. Which other families were here who she knew well and visited socially? Her uncle, the vicar, was often invited to The Beeches, but she knew that tonight he and his family had already accepted an invitation elsewhere when they had been asked somewhat belatedly to the Derwents’ party.
‘I haven’t seen John Spencer here,’ she remarked to Edmond. ‘Do you think he’s been sent to the Front?’
‘I daresay he has by now. It’s odd, though, his family don’t seem to be here either.’ John’s father was the owner of the local hotel.
On the other side of the table she could see the jovial-looking mayor, and Mr Brownlee, who was an auctioneer at the local livestock market. Edmond’s family was one of the most prominent in Larchbury and they had invited some of the local landowners, businessmen who worked in Wealdham or other nearby towns, and some of the leading local shopkeepers and craftsmen, like Mr Mead the cobbler and Mr Grainger, who made fine clocks and sold them in his high street shop.
Beatrice came over and caught Edmond by the arm. ‘When are you going to introduce me to your fellow officers?’ she demanded.
A girl of around fourteen had followed Beatrice across the room. She had ribbons in her long auburn hair.
‘Will you introduce me, too?’ she asked breathlessly.
‘Don’t be silly, Vicky,’ Beatrice told her. ‘You’re too young to stay up dancing. After the meal Ma will send you to bed.’
The girl looked desperately disappointed. ‘Vicky is our cousin,’ Edmond explained.
‘Come on, Edmond,’ Beatrice persisted.
‘Right away,’ he agreed. He led her towards some of his friends.
Young Vicky hovered awkwardly. Amy smiled at her. ‘Are your parents the ones who took Edmond round Europe?’ she asked.
‘No, those are his other uncle and aunt, on his father’s side.’
Amy suggested she tried the game pie.
‘Do you think they’ll let me stay and watch, for the first few dances, at least?’ Vicky said, her light blue eyes wide and appealing.
‘It’s worth asking.’ Amy could remember her own longing at that age to join in social events.
Before long, Amy noticed Beatrice chatting eagerly to Charles.
Edmond returned to her side. ‘Now my sister will have plenty of dancing partners,’ he told Amy.
Somehow she did not feel tongue-tied with him, as she did with most of his well-off friends. ‘I gather your brother is still in India?’ she asked.
‘Yes, Peter has become settled there, making a career. His accounts of the country are always fascinating when he writes.’
Amy could not even imagine that far country. She knew that Peter, older than Edmond, had been there for a few years.
‘Of course, he may decide to return now,’ Edmond went on. ‘Britain is crying out for men to join the army. Apparently the younger men in India are considering whether to return to take their part.’
The sound of dance music came from the ballroom next door, and people began heading in that direction. Edmond offered Amy his arm again and led her into the ballroom. Others were hovering around the dance floor, waiting for the dance to begin officially.
As she stood beside Edmond, she noticed questioning glances from Mrs Derwent and Beatrice. They know I don’t fit in here, she thought. What would it be like, living in a house like this, being waited on by servants? She could hardly imagine such a future, but if Edmond could see her by his side, anything would be possible.
‘Please, Aunt!’ she heard Vicky’s voice. ‘Let me stay and watch – just for a little while. Mother’s been sending me to dancing classes, but it would be so much more fun to stay and watch an actual ball.’
‘Very well – just for half an hour.’ Mrs Derwent led Vicky to a seat beside a plump matronly figure.
The musical quartet were beginning to play a popular waltz. Mr Derwent led his wife to the floor to open the ball. They swept stylishly around the room to a buzz of excitement. Then suddenly Edmond was leading Amy to join them. She was instantly nervous, anxious about how his interest in her would be perceived by the other guests. It was as much as she could do to follow him to the floor, trying to appear at ease and thankful she had taken a few dancing lessons. Then he held her in his arms and began leading her confidently around the room. Happiness swept over her and she no longer felt the slightest bit awkward. They swirled enthusiastically around the ballroom. A few other couples were joining them now. Amy was scarcely aware of anyone else until the dance ended. She noticed Beatrice hanging onto Charles’s arm.
Then the music began again and Edmond led her back to the floor. This time it was a lively polka and she needed all her concentration to keep up with the steps.
‘Enjoying it, dearest?’ he asked as the music finished.
‘It’s simply wonderful.’ She noticed that Bertie had been dancing with Florence. They made a good couple, she reflected.
‘I need to ask a few other girls to dance. It’s expected of me.’
‘Of course.’
She sat as serenely as she could on one of the little chairs. Her parents were dancing contentedly together.
Edmond was dancing with one of Beatrice’s fri
ends now, a classy girl with an elaborate hair style. Her smart gown and pretty amethyst necklace marked her out as one of the young women from a better-off family. Then there was a tinkle of laughter as Beatrice swept by with another of her dancing partners. She was wearing a little feathery ornament in her chestnut hair.
When the next dance began Edmond chose another acquaintance as his partner while Amy continued to sit alone. She watched young Vicky being led from the room by her aunt.
Amy’s mother and father were talking to Florence and her family. She was proud of the way her parents could fit in at a smart event without appearing overawed. Soon they came and sat beside her.
‘Are you enjoying it, darling?’ Mother asked. ‘Of course, Edmond has a wide circle of friends. You mustn’t be too disappointed if he can’t dance much with you.’
‘Might I have the pleasure?’ said a voice, and she found Charles Shenwood by her side. Happily she joined him for a waltz.
‘I hear you’ve been helping the Belgian refugees,’ he remarked, steering her eagerly round the room.
‘How did you know that?’
‘I just enjoyed a waltz with Florence, and she told me.’
‘It must be so upsetting for them to be away from their homeland and relatives,’ she told him. ‘Florence and I helped at the party they arranged for them in a church hall.’
Before long, Edmond asked her to join him in a polka again. He seemed anxious she should enjoy herself, but had to dance with some of the young women who were regular visitors at his home.
Florence joined her when she was without a partner. ‘How devoted Edmond is becoming to you!’ she said, smiling.
Amy smiled back. It would be presumptuous to suggest that her dreams could come true.
The evening began to fly past and all too soon the last dance was announced. Edmond led her to the floor again. She seemed to melt into his arms, and tried not to care if his family were less than pleased that he was partnering her again.
When the melody came to an end the quartet played ‘God Save the King’ and all the guests stood respectfully. The war effort was making them increasingly patriotic.
Edmond took her hand and led her into the dining room, where the buffet table had been cleared. Her neighbour, Miss Miller, stared at her and Edmond as she got up from the small card table where she had been playing with some of the older visitors. As the last card players left, Edmond drew Amy towards him and kissed her passionately.
‘Darling, I’m falling in love with you,’ he murmured.
‘I feel the same.’ She could scarcely stop thinking about him, whether they were together or apart.
The butler came into the room, excused himself and left.
‘I really must be going,’ Amy said. ‘My parents will be growing impatient.’
‘Might I order the chauffeur to drive you all home?’
‘There’s no need, Edmond. Thank you, but it’s not a long walk.’
He accompanied her to the entrance hall where her family were waiting. A maid helped her change into her boots and Edmond held out her coat, easing it over her shoulders. He waved as they left.
It was a frosty night but she felt warm, radiant even, as her mind dwelt on Edmond’s embrace. She fancied she could still feel the pressure of his lips on hers. Then, as they set out, she realised suddenly that the others were unusually silent. She looked at Bertie and was shocked at his serious expression.
‘Is something wrong?’ she asked.
‘It’s John Spencer. He’s been killed in Flanders – someone just told me.’
Her glow of happiness trickled swiftly away.
‘His parents received the telegram today. That’s why they didn’t come.’
The icy night seemed to penetrate her coat suddenly, chilling her heart with foreboding.
Chapter Six
Larchbury, February to June 1915
‘I begin training as a VAD next week,’ Lavinia told Amy one morning on the train.
‘Oh – well done. It sounds very worthwhile.’ Once again she was intrigued that young women were being encouraged to learn nursing skills and join the Voluntary Aid Detachment to help the wounded. ‘Will they send you to Flanders?’
‘Not at first. There are injured men being sent back here for treatment. I’m beginning my training at a hospital in Surrey.’
Amy had heard of casualties arriving on trains from the Channel ports. ‘You must tell me how you get on. I might consider becoming a VAD myself.’
‘You could – so could Florence.’
‘She’s training to be a school teacher. She’ll already have an important job.’
Amy buttoned her coat as they alighted in Wealdham and went off in different directions. It was her duty to help the war effort, she supposed, but if she was sent away to train it might be harder to meet Edmond when he came home on leave. If he was actually sent abroad it would be a different matter. There seemed no sign of a quick victory.
* * *
There was snow in February and Edmond could not make it home one weekend when he was due for leave. He wrote regularly, asking for her news and telling her how he was longing to see her again. She told him that Bertie was away training now, though he had not been able to join the same regiment as Edmond. Then there was the latest news of her refugee work. Some of the Belgians were beginning to find jobs and their own homes, becoming more settled.
At last, Edmond had weekend leave again. Normally he stayed with his family on the Saturday and called on her on the Sunday, so she was pleasantly surprised when he arrived at her house one Saturday afternoon.
‘Amy! It seems so long. I couldn’t wait till tomorrow to see you.’
‘Come in out of the cold.’
His face was chilled as he embraced and kissed her swiftly in the hallway. Then he followed her into the cosy back room where her mother was sitting knitting and Father was reading the newspaper.
‘Edmond! How delightful to see you,’ Mother said. ‘Let me fetch you some tea and cake. And you’ll stay for dinner, won’t you?’
‘That’s very kind, Mrs Fletcher.’
‘If we’d known you were coming we’d have made up a fire in the front parlour,’ Mother said awkwardly. They normally entertained guests there, with the smarter furniture, the piano and the flourishing aspidistra in its china bowl, but in winter it was cold there if they had not lit the fire in good time.
‘It looks very comfortable here,’ he said.
Mother went to fetch some tea, Edmond sat down, looking as though he was hovering, waiting to snatch another kiss but wondering how her father would react. He held on to her hand in his still cool one, and she enjoyed the delicious feeling of belonging.
Her father built up the fire. Mother brought in a tray and distributed tea and cake. There was a comfortable atmosphere, for her father had always liked Edmond when he tutored him and her mother too was growing close to him as the months passed.
He asked after Bertie and they told him he was enjoying army life. They discussed the war with him briefly. ‘Any news of you being sent abroad?’ Father asked.
It was the question Amy had dreaded asking.
‘In the summer, maybe.’
The delight of seeing him began to dissipate with dread for the future. I must try to keep brave for him, she thought. But he may go to Flanders, so may Bertie – how can I bear it? As the weeks passed it seemed less likely that the war would end quickly, and the loss of John Spencer had brought home the grim possibilities ahead.
Before long, Mother got up to prepare their evening meal. Father went outside to fetch some more logs for the fire. Amy was glad they trusted Edmond enough to leave the pair of them together alone for a while.
‘Darling, I can’t wait any longer,’ he said suddenly, squeezing her hand. ‘Tell me you’ll marry me!’
‘Edmond!’ She was almost speechless. Within her chest, her heart seemed to flutter wildly. ‘Yes, oh yes, I want so much to be your wife. But what will y
our parents say?’
‘They’ll have to respect my wishes. And they recognise that you’re a decent young woman. They’ll grow to love you.’
It was not quite the assurance she longed for, that they would unreservedly welcome her into the family. They would prefer someone from their own circle.
‘Suppose they don’t give consent?’ she faltered. ‘You’re only twenty.’
‘I’ll wait for you if I have to,’ he said forcibly, ‘but I don’t think they’ll make difficulties.’
‘Oh, darling – being your wife – it’s my dream.’
When her father came back into the room they were kissing tenderly and could scarcely break apart. Her parents barely needed to be told their news.
* * *
The Derwents were in church next morning and, apart from Edmond, merely nodded to them. Before the service began he rushed over and told them they were all invited to lunch at The Beeches. After church, Amy’s family returned home briefly before walking the short distance to the large house in good time for lunch. Amy could not remember feeling so nervous.
The butler admitted them and Edmond hurried to greet them. Soon they were shaking hands with his parents and Beatrice, who seemed less than enchanted to see them. They were served sherry, which Amy barely sipped.
‘Edmond has told us of his plans to marry,’ Mr Derwent said, smiling. ‘Naturally we are pleased to welcome Amy as his bride.’
The words were sufficient: he was not opposing the wedding. All the same, she would have preferred him to sound more enthusiastic. She sensed reserve from Edmond’s mother, too.
She followed the others into the dining room with its sparkling cutlery and fine china. It was smaller than the reception room they had used for the meal at the Christmas party. Soon a maid was serving them leek soup.
‘Edmond hopes we can arrange the wedding for early June,’ his father went on. His hair and moustache were greying but his eyes were clear blue, like Edmond’s.
‘It will be a proud day for us,’ Amy’s mother said.
Until We Meet Again Page 5