‘If only there was time for a little more reflection,’ Edmond’s mother said, fingering her amethyst necklace. ‘They’re both still very young.’ Her light blue eyes focussed on Amy, regarding her critically, as though she was a disappointment.
‘I’m liable to be sent to the Front in the summer!’ Edmond reminded them. ‘We deserve some time together first. And if I’m old enough to serve my country I’m surely old enough to choose my bride and wed her.’ He spoke without hesitation. How resolute he could be. She supposed this was how he had presented the news to his parents.
‘It’s the way young people come together now,’ Mr Derwent said. ‘It’s harder to accept a long engagement.’
‘But Edmond’s still a student!’ his mother reminded them.
‘It’s not ideal,’ Edmond admitted. ‘I’d have preferred to have taken up a profession before marrying. But who knows how long that will take now? We want to be together.’
His father seemed prepared to accept his wishes with few reservations. More plans were made as they progressed from the soup to the roast beef, served with horseradish sauce and an array of vegetables. Edmond’s parents offered the use of their house for the reception. Beatrice graciously accepted the invitation to be bridesmaid, providing the dressmaker was called in at an early stage to make her a suitable gown.
‘Perhaps Amy has a friend or two she would like as bridesmaids?’ Edmond said.
‘I should like to ask Florence,’ she said, ‘though of course I’m delighted Beatrice will be bridesmaid as well.’
Her future sister-in-law looked put out that she would need to share the distinction. Amy would have liked to invite Lavinia to be bridesmaid as well, but she was away training with the VAD and Amy could not be sure she would be able to get leave.
Edmond was at her side, asking her if she would like more vegetables but she could barely eat what was on her plate. The dining room was lined with wooden panels, making it gloomy. Were it not for having him beside her she would have preferred to be at home, eating a less lavish meal in a more relaxed atmosphere.
‘In time we’ll find a home of our own,’ he was promising her. ‘It will probably be quite small, at least at first. But while I’m serving in the army we’ll stay here. Ma and Pa have agreed I can have a larger room and we’ll have everything ready for the summer.’
To live with him in a little house of their own – what more could she wish for in life? But it would not be possible, for a while at least.
At last dessert was eaten and they went through to the dining room to be served coffee. Beyond the window, the grounds stretched damply between the bare trees. The afternoon was not sufficiently fine to make a walk an attractive prospect.
‘Amy, may I show you our conservatory?’ Edmond said.
‘I’d love to see it,’ she replied.
The others seemed content for him to lead her through to the glazed indoor area at the front of the house, with its orange trees and miniature palms.
He took her in his arms and kissed her tenderly, then brought a tiny box from his pocket. ‘I bought you this,’ he told her. ‘I hope you like it. We can have it adjusted if it isn’t quite the right size.’
He took out a ring with garnets and tiny diamonds. She was speechless with delight. He reached for her left hand and eased it gently on to her finger.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she told him breathlessly. It fitted well. ‘Darling, it’s a perfect choice.’
As they rejoined the others she kept looking at the dainty ring sparkling on her finger. How fortunate she was that he was as eager as she to marry. Edmond went to speak to his father and her parents about wedding arrangements. Amy wandered towards Beatrice and Mrs Derwent; she should make an effort to become closer to them.
‘I suppose we’ll have to accept Edmond’s decision,’ Amy overheard Beatrice say.
‘Let’s hope Peter finds a more suitable bride,’ their mother said. Then they noticed Amy and fell silent.
She faltered at their words, feeling paralysed by dismay. Did Mr Derwent feel the same, she wondered. It’s as well Edmond has an older brother, she thought. His parents might have actually refused consent if he was the heir.
She summoned all her resources to approach her future in-laws.
Mrs Derwent turned to her. ‘Do you play the piano at all?’ she managed. ‘We have a good instrument here, for Beatrice is very talented.’
‘I’ve had lessons and play a little,’ she said. ‘I shall love hearing Beatrice play.’ I must try to win their affection, she thought, for Edmond’s sake.
‘Of course you will give up work before you’re married,’ Mrs Derwent said.
‘I plan to continue in some kind of useful occupation,’ Amy replied, for she was thinking of applying to join the VAD.
‘We can’t have you working!’ exclaimed her future mother-in-law, her eyebrows rising towards her hairline. ‘Women in this family don’t work!’
Edmond came to Amy’s side, to her great relief. ‘It’s all right, Ma,’ he told her. ‘Women are expected to work whenever possible now, to allow men to serve in the army. Haven’t you read the papers?’
She referred the question to her husband, who agreed with Edmond, and that difficult issue was resolved.
As they left, Mr Derwent embraced her for a moment and the womenfolk exchanged a brief kiss on the cheek with her.
* * *
On Easter Sunday Amy and her family, including Bertie, who was on leave from his training, went to lunch at the vicarage. Uncle Arthur was vicar of St Stephen’s, Larchbury’s church. It was an old stone building, in which the better-off families, like the Derwents, had their own pews. Uncle kept a pony and trap to help him visit his more distant parishioners.
They joined Aunt Sophie and their son James in the dining room. The vicarage
had large rooms with high ceilings and as usual it was chilly there. A vase of daffodils adorned the table. Aunt Sophie had light brown hair plainly arranged upon her head. She was quiet by nature but kind, and had taken an interest in Amy’s aid to the Belgian refugees. She sliced the roast pork and served it.
Amy helped pass the gravy and vegetables.
‘What a lovely ring!’ Aunt Sophie exclaimed, seeing it sparkling on Amy’s finger.
Soon after giving her the ring Edmond had explained he had used part of his legacy from his grandfather to buy it. ‘I’m only a student and it wouldn’t have seemed right to ask Pa to contribute,’ he had told her. ‘But one day I hope to be in a position to buy you some more valuable jewellery.’
She had assured him she was perfectly content with the lovely ring.
‘I’m sorry Edmond couldn’t get leave this weekend,’ Uncle Arthur said now. He was shorter and stouter than Father and had an air of serenity suited to his calling. ‘I shall be proud to officiate at the wedding.’
‘We’d like James to be an usher, along with Bertie,’ Amy said. James was her cousin, a plumpish lad of sixteen, who was sitting next to Bertie.
‘I’d be honoured,’ he said a little shyly.
‘I gather you entertained the Derwents to lunch last weekend,’ Amy’s uncle said.
‘It was rather a trial,’ Mother admitted. ‘We haven’t got a cook like they have.’
‘Your lunch was fine,’ Amy assured her. ‘Edmond loved your apple pie, didn’t he?’ He had had leave that weekend.
‘He has perfect manners, your young man.’
Mr and Mrs Derwent had been polite but less effusive, and Beatrice had stayed away, apparently having a prior engagement. After the meal they had gone into the parlour, where a fire was blazing, but Edmond’s parents had not stayed much longer.
‘They have several servants at The Beeches, I gather,’ said Aunt Sophie.
‘Yes – I don’t even know their names yet,’ Amy said.
‘It’ll seem strange,’ Mother said. ‘We make do with Mrs Johnson.’ She called in twice a week to help with the washing and cleaning.
Amy got on well with Mrs Johnson, giving her errands occasionally. Dealing with the half dozen or so servants the Derwents kept might not be as straightforward. She needed to discover who was responsible for which task, and suspected there were approved ways of addressing them. Somehow she must manage to fit in with Edmond’s family when she lived with them.
‘And how are preparations going for the wedding?’ her aunt asked next.
‘Admirably,’ Mother said. ‘I’m making Amy’s gown myself.’ She had always been skilled with the needle, and the ivory silk was being transformed into a gorgeous dress. Mrs Derwent had belatedly enquired what Amy was to wear, offering the services of her dressmaker, if required. She had also insisted on having Florence’s bridesmaid’s dress made to match the one being worn by Beatrice, who had chosen a subtle pale green shade, a foil for her chestnut hair.
‘Now, who’d like more meat and vegetables?’ Aunt Sophie pressed second helpings on them. ‘Bertie, I’m sure you can eat some more.’
He accepted gladly.
After lunch they went into the parlour, with its dark, old-fashioned furniture. Uncle Arthur began enquiring about Bertie’s training. James was listening curiously as he mentioned their manoeuvres.
‘I hope there’s no more talk of general call-up,’ James said. He had grey eyes like Bertie’s and their fathers’. ‘I, for one, would try to avoid fighting.’
‘Not go and fight for your country if you were called on to do so?’ Bertie asked in amazement. All the others were looking at James now.
‘No, I don’t believe I could bear to set out to kill men. There must be some way to find a peaceful solution.’
There was distaste now in Bertie’s stare.
‘You would place yourself in a very difficult position, if there was conscription,’ Amy’s father said sternly.
‘I would have to make the stand.’
Amy felt sympathetic towards him. He wanted to oppose the warlike spirit which was taking over the country. He had principles, rather like the ones she had about universal suffrage.
‘It would be a difficult situation,’ Uncle Arthur said, an unfamiliar frown forming. ‘The warmongering and hostility to our enemies is so much at odds with Christian principles. I was troubled when I needed to speak at the memorial service for John Spencer and it concerns me when I compose my sermons.’
Amy had been in his study once and knew it was well stocked with serious-looking books, many of them leather-bound, mostly on religious topics.
‘You were very inspiring today,’ Father told his brother.
‘Well, yes, it’s Easter, and the sermon was a timeless one of resurrection and new life.’
‘As for the memorial, you have to honour a man who has given his life for his country.’
‘Certainly. But I feel that we blundered into this war, scarcely aware of what lay ahead. I could not persuade any man to serve who was not determined to do so.’
The atmosphere had become sombre suddenly. ‘I don’t suppose it will come to conscription,’ Amy’s father said.
* * *
Edmond came on weekend leave in May and called for Amy on the Saturday afternoon. It was fine and they set out towards the brook. It was some time since she had seen him, though they wrote to each other regularly. She had sent him a cutting from the local paper, mentioning the spring picnic she and Florence had helped to run for the Belgian refugees.
‘Only three weeks now to our wedding!’ She could scarcely contain her excitement. ‘They’ll read the banns tomorrow morning.’
He looked at her seriously. ‘Listen, dearest, I’ve been given my date for going to Flanders. It’s the Monday after our wedding day.’
‘Oh, darling.’ She clung to his arm, devastated. ‘That would give us so little time together before you leave – there must be something you can do. Ask them to give you an extra week’s leave.’
‘No, the whole unit has to travel together.’
Her delightful anticipation was blighted. ‘I thought there’d be weeks of seeing each other regularly before you had to go abroad.’ It seemed a vain hope now that the war might come to a quick conclusion.
‘I’ll have several days of leave before we set off. I thought we could ask your uncle if we can bring forward the wedding date to earlier in the week.’
‘Yes, we must do that,’ she said, a little relieved.
‘Let’s go round to the vicarage right away and see if he’s at home,’ Edmond said. ‘Mother’s on the brink of sending out the invitations.’
They headed along the High Street towards the church. A familiar shiny motor car was being driven fast along the street and she recognised Colonel Fairlawn at the wheel. He generally chose to drive himself rather than call upon his chauffeur.
‘You would think that man has more to do at the War Office,’ she said. ‘This is the second weekend running I’ve seen him in the village.’
‘He’s trying to find players for the cricket team,’ Edmond told her. ‘It’s awkward this year, with so many young men joining up.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Listen, darling, if your uncle can change the wedding date I’ll change the hotel booking too.’ He had booked them into a hotel in London, and they had plans to visit the theatre, besides exploring the parks in the daytime.
‘The important thing is to be with you for the little time we have,’ she told him.
* * *
A few days before the wedding Edmond arrived home on leave and soon called on her. After a blissful embrace he encouraged her to pack some clothes and other belongings. The family chauffeur was waiting to take her luggage to The Beeches.
‘You can arrange your things in my new room – our room, that is – ready for you after our honeymoon.’
‘Yes, I must do that,’ she said. It was an important stage in becoming his wife, even if she had reservations about living at The Beeches while he was serving abroad.
‘Remember I told you I’d like to be a VAD? I’ve signed up!’ she told him excitedly as the chauffeur drove them to her future home. There was still some resistance to allowing married women to work, so at the interview she had not worn her ring or mentioned her imminent wedding. She hoped to have made herself useful by the time they found out her status, so that they would do everything possible to keep her on.
‘A VAD? If that’s what you want, darling.’ His smile had faded.
‘They were surprised at work when I gave my notice, but on the whole they approved… You don’t look happy about it.’ She was suddenly concerned.
‘I understand that you want to contribute to the war effort,’ he said. ‘I just hope we can manage to get leave on the same dates.’
‘Once you’ve gone abroad it seems an appropriate thing for me to do, nursing the injured.’
‘I suppose you’re right.’
She did not like to tell him that her resolve to serve her country was increased by the possibility that nursing might involve living away from The Beeches. Her office job would have kept her out of his family home for most weekdays, but as she did not feel entirely welcome there, the chance of living elsewhere was appealing.
He still looked anxious. ‘I don’t imagine nursing is an easy life,’ he said. ‘I know you’re not afraid of hard work, but you’d see some disturbing sights, tending men sent home from the Front.’
‘I realise that.’ Am I really prepared to face soldiers with war wounds? she asked herself. Someone has to help them recover, she thought, as they turned into the drive at The Beeches. If Edmond has to fight, I can adapt to difficult circumstances too.
Soon they were unpacking her belongings in Edmond’s new room which, he told her, was considerably larger than his previous one. He had installed a gramophone on a table by the window.
‘This room is lovely,’ she said, admiring the view over the azaleas at one side of the garden.
A maid had come to help her unpack, and perhaps also act as chaperone, she thought, blushing at the sight
of the double bed. Edmond opened the wardrobes – handsome pieces of furniture in walnut wood. His uniform and other clothes were hanging in the smaller one and he invited her to hang her clothes in the larger one. There was ample space.
The room was also furnished with a smart dressing table, with a fine set of china ornaments in a tray, including candlesticks and dishes for trinkets. It was only when she began unpacking her books that she found anything lacking.
‘There aren’t enough shelves to take your books as well as mine,’ Edmond said, moving out some of his from an alcove to accommodate hers. His books remained stacked on the table. ‘We need some more shelves. Where are your gramophone records?’
‘Oh, goodness, I haven’t sorted through them yet.’
‘Perhaps when you bring them we can put them with our ones downstairs,’ he said. ‘If only there was more time.’
‘I don’t want to waste much of your leave packing.’
He caught hold of her and kissed her, regardless of the maid. ‘They plan to send VADs to Flanders, don’t they?’ he said, brightening.
‘I believe you have to complete a year of service before they send you abroad,’ she said. She still hoped the war would be over before then, but if not, there would be the prospect of travelling to Flanders to be near him.
Chapter Seven
Larchbury, June 1915
Amy’s wedding was now arranged for the Thursday of that week.
‘Is Lavinia coming?’ Florence asked when she reached Amy’s house in good time that morning.
‘No, she couldn’t get leave.’ In spite of that one disappointment, Amy was tingling with anticipation. She led Florence up to her bedroom, her comfortable little domain, with its chintz bedspread and curtains. Somehow she preferred it to the new room with velour curtains and damask bedspread at The Beeches.
The bridal gown and bridesmaids’ dresses were hanging in her room, and the girls stripped down to their underwear. Soon Beatrice arrived, with a maid. She had been driven there by the family chauffeur, who would now return to the house to transport Edmond and his parents to the church, along with Charles Shenwood, who was best man.
Until We Meet Again Page 6