Chapter 3
Interrupted by War
England – Six Months Later
The Battle of Britain finally ground to an exhausted termination. To be sure, battle was not new to the British Isles. As far back as anyone could remember, battles had been fought on every corner of The British Isles. But this was a new kind of war, a kind of war that no one on this planet had ever seen or even imagined before, for that matter. The Battle of Britain was the first battle fought entirely within the air in the course of human history. It was a battle in which little more than the whistle of a descending projectile could foretell the end of human life on an enormous scale. Those who lived through it were seen to admit that for the remainder of their lives they were prone to duck instinctively whenever they heard a similar sound to that of the bombs dropping on London.
Up in the skies over Britain, the British airmen were flying nonstop twenty-four hours a day, fighting off Herman Goering’s Luftwaffe, the German Messerchmidt fighters and the Heinkel, Dornier, and Junkers Bombers. But the British had three insurmountable weapons. First, they had the Spitfire fighter, by far the best fighter aircraft in the world, as well as the Hurricane. Second, they had radar, something that no other country on earth possessed at the time. Finally, rallied by Sir Winston Churchill, the new prime minister, the British possessed an undaunted will to succeed. And succeed they did.
By November of 1940, the Battle of Britain was won. Hitler threw in the towel and headed for the Eastern Front in an attempt to cover for his ignominious defeat by a small island nation. The exhausted British rejoiced, but their happiness was short-lived, as they slowly came to the realization that though their nation was spared the humiliating fate of the French, the war was far from over.
Wharton Manor – February, 1941
Squadron Leader Trant Sutherland emerged from the military vehicle and, marching purposefully through the entryway to the manor, he boomed, “Mother!”
“In here, in the sitting room!” she shouted, a loss of decorum that would have been unthinkable little more than six months earlier.
Trant rushed into the sitting room, whereupon his mother rose, the two embracing one another fiercely. “Where’s father,” he inquired.
“Oh, he will be along. He was delayed at the Home Office this morning. However, they did grant his leave. We shall have an entire weekend together.”
“Excellent!” he replied.
“Trant, dear, I have a surprise for you.”
“Uh oh, I can always tell something bothersome is coming when you say that, Mother. So what is it?”
“I have arranged for us to have a visitor this weekend, my dear.”
“A visitor? Why ever on earth for, Mother? Who is it?”
“Tis that young lady that was here for the masquerade party last summer. You remember her, right?”
“Which one? There were six of them as I recall.”
“Oh, don’t be a muddle-head, Trant. You know exactly which one I’m referring to – Miss Delacroix!”
Trant responded distantly, “Oh, you mean the one that played the part of the wanton feline?”
“Trant, you may want to watch what you say,” his mother responded sternly, “She happens to be standing right behind you.”
Trant turned and, blushing in embarrassment at the sight of her, he blurted apologetically, “Oh, my goodness. I am so terribly sorry, Miss Fifi, er, Delacroix. It is indeed wonderful to see you again!”
At this Felicité came forward, tentatively replying, “Thank you. I am so happy to see that you have survived the battle unharmed, Squadron Leader.”
“Thank you, Miss Delacroix. That is very kind of you, especially after my gaffe. I am so embarrassed. Please forgive my disingenuous remark. Can you?”
“Of course,” she replied with a slight smile that was nonetheless laced with uncertainty.
He now took her in more carefully. She was every bit as lovely as she had been the previous time he had seen her. Dressed in a flowing black evening gown, her blonde hair appeared somewhat shorter, but otherwise she seemed quite unchanged.
“So, what have you been up to since we last met?” he queried pleasantly.
“I’ve been at work for the home front in London,” she responded matter-of-factly.
“Oh, how did you manage that assignment?”
“Your mother helped me to get it. She wrote to me and suggested it. Of course, I accepted immediately, and she found a position for me straightaway.” She turned to Lady Sutherland and said, “I’m very grateful, Lady Sutherland. It’s been difficult, but I am so glad that I’ve been able to be of service to our country. But enough of me. Tell me about the 93rd, Flight Lieutenant Sutherland.”
At this, a pained look coming over his face, Trant murmured dejectedly, “We lost quite a few.”
“Yes, I know, I followed it in the newspapers. They carried the names of those killed in action. Tis quite sad. You must be devastated.”
“Yes, I am. But as Sir Winston Churchill so aptly put it, it was all for a necessary and just cause. We shall carry on right to the end, of that I am most confident. At least now that Heir Hitler has suffered his first defeat there is a glimmer of hope.”
Lady Sutherland now interjected, “How are your lady friends who were here that night, Miss Delacroix?”
“Caroline was killed in the air raids. Perhaps you remember her, she was one of the two that posed in her knickers adjacent to the screen. Her apartment building was decimated by a bomb.”
“Ah, yes, she was a vivacious young lady,” Lady Sutherland observed, adding, “It is all too sad. So many young people lost already, and we have such a long way ahead of us.”
“Yes,” Felicité responded, “If it is any consolation, I remember what Caroline said on the way back to Oxford after the party. She said ‘I can now live the rest of my life with the happy thought that my attributes were once quite appreciated by forty lusty young airmen’.”
“Ha! Good for her!” Lady Sutherland exclaimed. “It is so sad that she is gone, but she shall be remembered with great fondness by those who were in attendance, of that I am quite certain.”
At this Trant put in, “I say, I quite agree. I am certain that the boys in the 93rd appreciated that party beyond all expectations. They went off to war with songs in their hearts. Buoyed by the images of that weekend, those who died did so with a sense of fulfillment that could not have been otherwise possible. You were right, Mother. So thank you!”
Trant’s mother stared in shock at him for a moment and, seeing that he had no notion of correcting his mistake, she exclaimed, “Don’t thank me! Thank her, you idiot!”
“Oh, my, I am indeed sorry,” he replied and, turning toward Felicité, he proffered, “I seem to have put my foot in it again. Please forgive me. I meant to say – thank you, Miss Delacroix!”
At this Felicité blushed noticeably but, smiling shyly, she responded, “It was all for a good cause, I’m quite certain.”
At that moment General Sutherland rushed into the room, announcing, “I am so sorry I’m late, dear. You know how the Home Office is these days. But if all goes well, I shall indeed be able to spend the entire weekend at home.” He summarily embraced Lady Sutherland, following it with a peck to her cheek.
He thenceforth turned to his son, saying, “Hip hip, son. I say, well done. Well done indeed. I can’t believe that I’ve not seen you since before the battle began last June. All Britain owes you and your flyboys a great debt of gratitude. We’ve finally turned the tables on the Germans, and from here onward things should only get better.”
“Thank you, sir,” Trant replied with obvious pride.
Lady Sutherland now interjected, “Trant, please introduce our guest to your father.”
“Father, this is Miss Felicité Delacroix. Miss Delacroix, my father, the Earl of Winston, and Brigadier General in the British Armed Forces.”
The Earl acc
epted Felicité’s curtsy and, tugging her up, he dragged her into a fatherly embrace. “My dear, tis such a pleasure. My dear Lady Sutherland has told me so much about you.”
“Thank you, sir. The pleasure is mine,” she responded politely, apparently flustered by such empathetic treatment from one who to all appearances was nothing of the sort.
“I understand that you’ve been serving Britain down in London, where I too have endured the battle. It was rough, was it not, my dear?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, clearly uncertain quite how to respond to an earl, much less a general.
“Well,” the Earl continued, turning back to his son, “I don’t know about you, but I could use a smooth glass of port. Shall we all retire to the library? I’m so looking forward to a quiet relaxing weekend at home with friends and family. It may be our last for quite some time.”
At this the four of them moved silently to the library, where the men drank a glass of port and discussed military matters, while the women talked about the men who went to war. In a word, the scene was the perfect picture of domesticity.
The evening was a resounding success, just as Lady Sutherland had planned. Aware that Trant was disturbed by her sly but nevertheless obvious attempt to bring him together with Miss Delacroix, she was nonetheless buoyed by the possibility that she had been correct in her initial assessment of the young lady who had now blessed them with her presence on a second occasion.
Fortunately, Trant had displayed better manners once he had gotten over the initial shock of Felicité’s presence. He had indeed been the perfect gentlemen, to the point that Lady Sutherland had detected a growing sense of comfort on Felicité’s part, not only with Trant, but also with the whole snobbish ceremonial atmosphere that attended British nobility. Having been forced to accept such treatment in her own youth, Lady Sutherland was thus well pleased with the evening.
The following morning Felicité accompanied Lady Sutherland on a drive to Bath. They lunched at The Pump House and strolled on the lawn adjacent to the Circus. Afterwards, they returned to Wharton Manor, whereupon Lady Sutherland retired for an afternoon rest.
Felicité took the opportunity to sun herself in the garden. She was sitting perusing Persuasion by Jane Austen, when Trant came passing through the garden.
“Oh, I say, good afternoon,” Trant said pleasantly. “How are you, Felicité? How was the outing to Bath?”
“We had a lovely time,” Felicité replied. “I absolutely adore your mother. She is such a great lady.”
“Yes, she is that,” he responded distantly.
“She is very kind to me,” she proffered hesitantly, “She makes me wish that I had known my own mother. But she died when I was too young to remember her.”
Sensing her complacency, he volunteered, “She wasn’t always a member of the peerage, you know. In that regard, I suppose that the two of you have much in common.”
“Oh, is that so? And in what other ways, might I ask?”
“Well, of course, she’s not English, as is also the case with you.”
“She’s not from England? Where then is she from?”
“She’s from Australia, although her roots are in Scotland, as are the Sutherlands’.”
“My, I had no idea. Her English is quite perfect.”
“Yes, well, it wasn’t always so. On occasion, you may still hear her utter the word ‘mate’,” and this last he appended with a chuckle.
“Ah, anything else?”
“Else what?”
“Anything else that we two have in common.”
At this inquiry, Robert thought a moment and suggested, “Yes, I suppose there is one other thing. The two of you share rather unusual attitudes.”
“Oh? How so?”
“I believe that is best left for another day.”
“Yes, of course,” she responded, sensing something profound, but aware that it fell beyond her provenance.
Changing the subject, Trant queried, “So I assume that she is taking her afternoon rest?”
At her nod, he continued, inquiring, “And what, if I may ask, are you doing to amuse yourself in her absence?”
“Oh, I’m reading Jane Austen, I suppose,” she replied timidly.
“Well, I believe that I can say this with absolute certainty – I know absolutely nothing whatsoever about Jane Austen,” he offered in genteel surprise.
“Perhaps you should,” she responded thoughtfully, “It might do you good…”
“How so?” he blabbered vacuously.
“I don’t know,” she responded indecisively, “Her stories are so timely, so indicative of the times, I suppose.”
“Surely not. We are in the midst of a great conflagration at the moment!”
“Yes well, that part is quite different, but the personal interactions are quite complex, you know,” she responded with a slight smile.
“Personal interactions? Who has time for personal interactions these days?” he countered assertively.
“Just so,” she replied wistfully, “Just so.”
Suddenly rising from his seat, he said, “Well, I must be off, but before I go, I do have a question for you, Miss Delacroix.”
“Yes?”
“What made you do it?”
“Do what?” she replied in bewilderment.
“Pose quite in the altogether for forty lusty young men?”
Eyeing him disconsolately, she exclaimed, “You know, when you put it that way, it sounds quite immoral. But what about the Moulin Rouge in Paris, and for that matter, The Windmill Theatre in London?”
“Well, there is that, but aren’t those places rather sordid?” he responded dismissively.
“I’m sure I’ve no idea to what your referring, sir. My memory is that your mother’s purpose was for a few young ladies to afford your airmen a glimpse of what might lay in their future should they survive the war.”
Attempting to absorb the implications of what she had just said to him, he stared at her for several moments, eventually responding, “Well, that is certainly one explanation,” but it was nonetheless clear that his doubts remained.
Having exhausted the subject for the moment without a successful conclusion, it was clear that they would do better to move on to lighter subjects. The conversation therefore moved on to plans for that evening’s dinner, after which he made a hasty retreat.
Later That Day
Lady Sutherland had arisen from her rest and was tending to her coiffure when the Earl entered her chamber, inquiring, “My dear, how was your trip to Bath?”
“It was lovely, dear. Miss Delacroix entertained me ever so well. She is just the loveliest creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“She is certainly pleasing to the eye,” he replied thoughtfully, “So what is going on, my dear? Why is she here?”
“Why, whatever on earth do you mean, dear?”
“Oh, give over, Margaret. We’ve been married far too long for this bandying about. What is she doing here? There is not another person on earth that would have received an invitation to visit on what may be the last chance for you to be together with your husband and son for many months to come.”
Lady Sutherland smiled slyly at her husband through the mirror and replied, “I do so love you, my dear. Very little that I do escapes you.”
“That may be, but there is still quite enough that does. With you, I must always be on the very tips of my toes, my dear.”
“Alright, I see that I shall be forced to divulge. I am planting the seeds for the next generation of Sutherlands, my dear.”
“What! You think that this young lady is fit for our Trant?”
“Yes, my dear, quite so.”
“But I thought you told me that she was the one that ‘entertained’ the troops last summer!”
“That is correct.”
At this revelation, he scratched his head for a moment in confusion, subsequently appending, “This is all much too compl
icated for me, my dear. I am quite certain that you have thought this through, and that you have excellent rationale for reasoning thusly. For my part, I believe it advisable that I concentrate my efforts on far simpler issues, such as fighting a world war.”
“Well said, my dear. Now you just leave everything to me. I may not be correct about this, but I see amazing things in Miss Delacroix, and if my sixth sense is correct, Trant will as well. But we shall see, all in good time.”
“Excellent!” he replied, “And now let us retire for a drink in the library before dinner. “Perhaps we shall even be treated to a glimpse of the spark that you imply exists between these two young people. I for one could do with some excitement around here!”
The Earl and Lady Sutherland were joined a short time later by Trant, Felicité entering shortly thereafter in a flowing blue gown. Lady Sutherland commented on seeing her attire, “My dear! You look absolutely stunning this evening.”
“Thank you,” Felicité responded demurely.
Turning toward her, Trant immediately spilled his port, something that he had never been known to do in his entire life. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said apologetically, at which Lady Sutherland turned to her husband and awarded him with a covert wink.
Deftly diverting the subject, the Earl said to Felicité, “I hear you had a lovely drive to Bath today,”
“Yes, sir, Lady Sutherland showed me a fine time. Although I lived at Oxford for many years, I never had the pleasure of visiting Bath. One can almost envision the characters from a Jane Austen novel emerging from a side street. It is such a reminder of our historic past.”
“So what do you intend to do now that The Battle of Britain has ended, Miss Delacroix?” the Earl queried.
“Mostly I have been helping with the cleaning up of London, but that will come to an end at some point, I am quite certain. I would very much like to hear if you might have any suggestions, sir.”
“Well, actually, I do have a suggestion for you. I assume that your French is excellent.”
“Yes, sir, I lived in France until I was almost ten years old.”
“So, tell me truthfully, would you pass as a native if you spoke to a French person?”
“Certainly! My command of events in France over the last decade might not be spot on, but both my command of the language and my accent would surely pass muster.”
“Excellent, Miss Delacroix. Then, with your permission, I shall check with the Home Office. Ever since France was cut off from us by the Germans we have encountered ever mounting difficulties with the language barrier.”
“How is that, sir?”
“Right, I am certain that you know that General Charles de Gaulle is here in London leading the Free French Army. That army is by-and-large in hiding in France. We are in constant communication with factions within France that are fighting an underground war. Their activities need to be synchronized with British military plans, and the coordination of these activities requires constant translation of a voluminous number of documents and communications. Might this sort of work be of interest to you, Miss Delacroix?”
“Yes, of course. I would be honored to perform any task that will help the war effort, but this particular one does indeed sound as if it might make use of my French heritage.”
“Excellent! I shall do some checking on your behalf and let you know what may be available.”
“Shall I give you my address?”
“My dear Miss Delacroix, anyone who wants to find you need only ask my lovely wife, Lady Sutherland,” and so saying, Lord Sutherland afforded a convivial wink to Lady Sutherland.
“Oh, right,” Felicité responded in embarrassment, at which all four of them laughed heartily.
The following morning when they said goodbye, Lady Sutherland volunteered, “Miss Delacroix, I don’t mind telling you, it’s been delightful. I do hope that we shall see you again at Wharton Manor in the near future. In the meantime, I wish you well.”
“Thank you, Lady Sutherland,” Felicité responded and, turning to Trant, she offered, “It has been a pleasure, Flight Lieutenant Sutherland.”
Leaning forward to take her hand, Trant responded, “Good luck, Miss Delacroix.”
“And now,” Lord Sutherland put in, “Let us be off, Miss Delacroix,” and so saying the pair climbed within the car and drove away.
Of War and Women Page 5