Together for Christmas

by Carol Rivers

  As they crossed the bridge, Lillian squeezed the rubber hooter. A bicyclist jumped down from his bike and glared at them. Lillian only laughed. ‘This automobile is not at all like the van I drive for the voluntary service.’

  ‘So you are a volunteer driver?’ Flora held on tightly as they bounced along.

  ‘After Michael left I decided to do my bit to help the war effort. I offered my services to a volunteer organization for women. Some are from the suffrage movement, just like the girl you told me about who drove you to Bristol. In my opinion, women make very good drivers. Perhaps one day I can teach you, Flora.’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  Flora smiled as Lillian expertly drove them through the streets. Lillian was like Sally: strong and independent. Flora was sure that if anyone could persuade Lady Bertha to take Will at Adelphi Hall, it was Lillian.

  ‘It’s very beautiful, isn’t it?’

  Flora and Lillian paused on a mossy, green bank overlooking Adelphi Hall. The house stood in all its glory amidst the green parklands. Its marble columns gleamed in the sunshine and Flora remembered how disappointed Hilda had been when they were instructed to take the tradesmen’s route. Now, Lillian pointed the car towards the long winding path that led to the main entrance. But instead of the stately black car that had been parked there previously, army vehicles and ambulances were lined up outside.

  ‘It looks very different to when I last visited over twenty years ago,’ Lillian said wistfully as they climbed back into their rattling seats. Lillian hadn’t turned off the engine for fear that it might not start again.

  ‘Did you ever meet the earl?’ Flora asked curiously.

  ‘On one occasion, yes.’

  ‘What was he like?’

  Lillian smiled thoughtfully. ‘In his youth, he stood out among men.’

  ‘Hilda says he’s never seen now.’

  ‘He and his sister, Bertie, never really got on. She resented the fact that she could never inherit Adelphi. Lord William’s first wife, Lady Amelia, tried to draw the family together. But after she died in childbirth, Bertie took advantage of her brother’s grief. She filled the house with her fun-loving friends and spoiled Guy. Lord William went back into the army and became a very remote figure to his son and heir.’

  ‘Why did the earl never remarry?’ Flora asked.

  Lillian sighed gently. ‘The story is that he was entranced by a beautiful servant girl. Some say they were lovers and a child was conceived. Bertie discovered their secret and, fearing her brother would make this girl his wife, so making their offspring a rival to Guy, she had them, well, disposed of.’

  ‘Do you mean she—’

  Lillian nodded. ‘So the story goes.’

  ‘But could Lady Bertha really do such a thing to her own brother?’

  Lillian shrugged. ‘Who knows?’

  Flora was shocked as they drove down the wide path to Adelphi Hall. Could this story be true? If so, then no wonder the poor earl shut himself away from such a cruel world!

  Lillian parked the car behind one of the ambulances and they climbed out. Flora gave a soft gasp. Adelphi Hall was even more beautiful, more breathtaking, up close. Even its new role as a hospital couldn’t diminish Adelphi Hall’s grace and splendour.

  Lillian took Flora’s arm. ‘I promise I will do my best for Will.’

  Flora smiled. ‘Thank you.’

  Just then they heard a loud voice. The orders barked out were from a dark-haired, middle-aged woman addressing two stretcher-bearers. She wore a tunic, belted at the waist, with epaulettes on her shoulders and brass buttons down her jacket.

  Lillian nudged Flora, and whispered, ‘That’s Bertie!’

  Flora’s mouth fell open.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  ‘I’m sure you will want to join your friend.’ Lady Bertha Forsythe looked down her long, aristocratic nose at Flora. ‘Tell Mrs Burns to feed you. I shall send someone for you later.’

  Lillian gave Flora a warm smile. ‘I shan’t be long, Flora.’

  ‘Nonsense, Lillian,’ interrupted Lady Bertha sharply. ‘The girl will find plenty to occupy her below stairs. You and I have twenty years to catch up on. After lunch, I should like you to meet Guy. He was just a boy when you saw him last. And there is someone else too: his fiancée, Lady Gabriella.’

  Flora returned Lillian’s intimate smile. She knew that Michael’s mother intended to do everything in her power to convince Lady Bertha to take Will.

  As she walked round to the stables, Flora thought about Lady Bertha Forsythe. The question in her mind was, could this lady be capable of treachery and perhaps murder?

  A cold chill went down Flora’s spine as she recalled Mrs Bell’s warning to Hilda. Now, Lillian had added much more. The stories were not proven to be true. But perhaps they weren’t false either.

  Flora glanced through the tall windows. She saw the tops of iron bedsteads, and a strong smell of disinfectant poured out of an open window. Adelphi Hall was now a place of rest and healing.

  But perhaps that had not always been so.

  From the attics of the house a tall figure surveyed the vehicles beneath. He was accustomed to the noise and activity now. And although he kept hidden from view, the arrival of the medical staff and wounded soldiers gave Lord William Calvey the greatest pleasure to watch. The house, at last, had regained its dignity. There was purpose to its life. No longer were there fanciful carriages containing their equally fanciful passengers pulling up, to be lavished and spoiled by Bertha and Guy. The war had achieved much more for Adelphi Hall than he could have done himself. Yes, he had been weak and a fool. He had allowed Bertha to usurp him, to destroy the foundations of his world. But nature had taken recourse and now his great house was living again as it truly should.

  Then suddenly his blue eyes widened. A vehicle approached. Did he recognize it? Didn’t he know it? A woman climbed out, tall and elegant, from the driver’s position. His eyes were playing on her, studying her, but he could not tell from this position, four floors up, who she was. Then, with a dainty step, a young woman joined her from the passenger seat.

  The earl took a sharp breath. His stomach tightened, gripped in a vice. Her figure was slim, her fair hair bounced in waves over her shoulders, and the way she moved . . .

  He blinked hard, recalling the day he had raised his binoculars and seen her before. She’d been accompanied by a man, a young, upright fellow who had used a cane, and had tried to hurry to her as that fool of a son of his had almost ridden into her.

  Yes, he’d only glimpsed her then.

  But now he could see her clearly. The shape of her head, her curls, her soft, gentle movement, and he felt himself falling against the window, his heart clamouring to be out of his chest, his throat dry as he ached to call her back.

  He pressed his face against the glass. His lips moved tremblingly as he followed her every movement as far as he could.

  And when she had disappeared, he stayed there, wondering if he was dreaming, whispering in a halting breath, ‘Constance . . . Constance . . .’

  ‘We’d better look sharp,’ Mrs Harris shouted across the kitchen. ‘Lord Guy and Lady Gabriella are dining with Lady Bertha and her husband this evening.’

  ‘Dinner for six served to the family this evening,’ agreed Mrs Burns as she supervized the kitchen staff, sending the maids in all directions. ‘Not in the dining room of course, but on the second floor. Now, Mrs Harris, what have we to prepare?’

  ‘We’ve poultry, game and roast woodcock, Mrs Burns. Creamed spinach, braised celery and creamed potatoes, though I’ll find something special to end with. Perhaps some jellies in those moulds we used before the war. Something big and colourful to take the eye. You can only do so much though, with catering for the sick too. It’ll have to be tarts, blancmange and fruit from the greenhouse, so we’ll need fresh supplies from the kitchen garden.’

  ‘Her ladyship has another guest for high tea, an old friend from London, don’t forget.�
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  ‘I forget nothing, Mrs Burns, don’t worry on that score. Now perhaps you’d alert Mr Leighton to the drinks we’ll serve with the meal?’

  ‘I have it all in hand,’ Mrs Burns said tersely, glancing sharply at the figure entering the rear door of the kitchen. ‘Ah, and about time too.’ She narrowed her gaze at Hilda, who stood waiting for orders as the maids and footmen flew in and out of the kitchen, barely giving her a glance. She usually felt out of place in the kitchen in her trousers and shirt, but what she’d overheard distressed her more deeply at that moment. Lady Gabriella! The name she dreaded to hear. How could Lord Guy turn his attention to such an ugly woman? Hilda had watched their cars arrive yesterday. Lady Gabriella and her maid, both spilling jewels and high fashion, even in wartime. With a troop of servants following like a circus parade.

  ‘Are you listening to me, girl?’ Mrs Burns demanded.

  ‘Yes, Mrs Burns.’

  ‘Here is your list. See Peter, and make certain you bring Mrs Harris all she needs.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Burns.’

  ‘I expect you to continue with your duties today.’ Mrs Burns drew herself up. ‘I understand her ladyship has kindly permitted you a visitor?’

  ‘Yes, my friend, Flora.’ It was clear to Hilda that Mrs Burns disapproved. But at the same time, she could not ignore Lady Bertha’s command that she was to be allowed two hours off in Flora’s company.

  ‘Very inconvenient, when we have guests.’

  ‘Sorry, Mrs Burns.’

  ‘Remember, Mrs Harris’ list comes first. Now off you go.’

  Hilda left the hot kitchen, pleased to be outside in the sunshine. Though not pleased to be considered unworthy to serve at table, as she had done before her accident.

  Hilda made her way towards the greenhouses, thinking of her lover. If only he were that: her lover, and hers alone. Why did he come for her so infrequently now? And when he did, there was hardly a word passed between them. He took her roughly when and wherever he wanted. Though never when Lady Gabriella was visiting. The times they were together were growing fewer and fewer. She ached for him. She longed for him. What had happened to their love?

  ‘Hilda!’ A soft voice came across the lawn. She turned and saw Flora. Hilda’s eyes filled with tears.

  ‘Flora!’

  They embraced and Hilda smelled Flora’s fragrance, sniffed the scent in her hair and saw the blush on her cheeks. She was suddenly envious. Flora was a reminder of how she once looked, of freedom and of the island.

  ‘It’s been such a long time. Are you better now?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ve missed you.’ Flora gazed down at Hilda’s trousers. ‘Hilda, what are you wearing?’

  ‘Sometimes I’m asked to collect the vegetables. Not always, of course, only when staff are short.’ Hilda lied, knowing that Flora thought she was still a housemaid.

  ‘Why haven’t you written?’

  ‘I don’t get much time.’

  ‘But Hilda—’

  ‘You can come with me, if you like.’

  Flora threaded her arm through Hilda’s. ‘I’ve got so much to tell you. Something about Will.’

  ‘Will? Is he all right?’ Hilda felt guilty. She hadn’t written to Will either.

  ‘He might be coming to Adelphi.’

  Hilda stopped still. ‘Will? Coming here?’

  ‘Hilda, I’m sorry to tell you that he’s lost an arm.’

  The news was so shocking, so sudden, that Hilda burst into tears. Flora put her arms around her sobbing friend. ‘I should have said in my letter.’

  ‘Why didn’t you?’

  ‘I wanted the whole thing to be a surprise.’

  ‘Losing an arm is a surprise,’ Hilda sobbed.

  Flora gave her a handkerchief. ‘Michael’s mother knows Lady Bertha and is going to ask if Will can come here to convalesce.’

  Hilda blew her nose. ‘You’d better tell me all about it, while I get what Mrs Harris wants.’

  ‘I’ll help you.’ Once again, Flora drew close.

  Hilda only wanted to weep, though she held her tears in check. Time had passed her by. Her friend had blossomed while she was left behind. She felt abandoned by Lord Guy and bullied by Mrs Burns. Even Gracie had been made up to a housemaid. It just wasn’t fair.

  Miserably, Hilda led the way to the greenhouse, hoping Peter and the boys were working in the fields. She didn’t want them to give away her secret that she was just a glorified skivvy.

  ‘I’ll use my influence to have him brought here from Bristol at once.’ Lady Bertha stood with Lillian Appleby under the vaulted ceiling of the vast interior gallery of Adelphi Hall. Beneath them the staircase wound down to the reception hall, which was filled with noisy strangers. Bertha missed the old days: the parties and excitement, the splendid gowns and perfumes of her friends and the gilt-framed paintings on the walls, now removed and packed away with all of Adelphi Hall’s treasures. Only the golden lion emblazoned on the Calvey coat-of-arms remained on display. A proud relic of the past; a past that, it seemed, had now returned to haunt her.

  Trying to hide her fear, Bertha’s agile mind raced. This boy that Lillian spoke of, could he be the one – could he? He was the right age, almost twenty. A Boniface brat. Bertha’s mind slipped back two decades to her brother’s refusal to give up the servant girl. William was a fool. A wealthy fool, but a sentimental one. He’d had a perfectly acceptable wife in Amelia, who gave him an heir before she died. Why endanger Guy’s inheritance by wedding a simple-minded peasant? If only William had seen sense. There would have been no need for the measures she had to take . . .

  ‘Thank you, Bertie. Will is an orphan and has had a bad deal in life.’

  ‘And he knows one of our housemaids?’

  ‘Yes, Hilda Jones. Together with Flora, the three of them were Boniface children.’

  ‘Remind me again of what you wrote? The girl who accompanied you today is your son’s fiancée?’

  Lillian Appleby looked into her eyes without blinking. ‘Flora is very lovely, don’t you think?’

  Bertha did not think so at all. Had Lillian taken leave of her senses? To condone a union between her only son and an orphanage brat was complete madness! ‘Then congratulations are in order to you and your son,’ Bertha replied tightly.

  ‘Time drags, of course, as we wait for Michael to return from the war. You must be relieved that Guy is well out of it. How is he these days?’

  Bertha shrugged indifferently. ‘He has his moments. The last time he had an episode was in spring of last year. He was out hunting when an attack overcame him. Fortunately, his horse brought him back safely.’ Bertha omitted to mention that her nephew’s quarry had not been animal but human. The girl hadn’t perished but was found to be injured. Guy had drunk far too much wine and, as usual, gone to extremes. If only he could learn to be more discreet.

  ‘And your brother, the earl, what of him?’ Lillian enquired.

  ‘Much the same!’ Bertha snapped. Talk of William always made her nervous. He was a threat, always had been. But a weak one. Choosing to remove himself from the family gave her the upper hand. Let him sit and dream of his glorious past, his lost love and their bastard son. They were nothing more than relics of the past. A past that Bertha was determined to keep hidden. When this boy arrived at Adelphi, in the guise of concern for his welfare, she would speak to him and decide what she must do.

  ‘Adelphi hasn’t changed,’ Lillian was saying as she gazed down into the busy hall. ‘Still as beautiful as ever, despite the hospital disruption.’

  ‘We suffer in silence,’ Bertha murmured piously, ‘for Britain’s sake.’

  ‘How noble,’ Lillian responded softly.

  Bertha glanced out of the corner of her eye. Was she being mocked? Reluctantly giving Lillian Appleby the benefit of the doubt, she gestured ahead. ‘Shall we go? I’ve asked Guy and Gabriella to meet us in the library for tea.’

  ‘Is Gabriella staying the weekend?’ L
illian asked as they turned to walk along the richly carpeted hall.

  ‘Yes, we are to announce their engagement to friends.’

  ‘Then I mustn’t keep you long.’

  ‘Oh, perhaps you should stay?’ Bertha said without enthusiasm. Lillian’s company was tiresome. Now that the favour of the boy was done, there was little else to be said. But she supposed she must go through the motions.

  ‘I must take Flora back soon.’ Lillian Appleby smiled. A sweet, tolerant smile that made Bertha feel undermined. She had never really liked Julian’s wife, but had tolerated her when their lives in the city had coincided. It was Julian who had brought them together and Julian who had separated them. Julian, with his devilish charm and good looks and his lean, energetic body that never tired between the sheets . . .

  Bertha wondered smugly if Lillian had ever guessed they were lovers.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Flora, Hilda and Gracie sat on the benches in the pretty folly by the kitchen gardens. Flora had not been invited into the house, nor did she wish to go. The few hours with Hilda in the open air had been most enjoyable. Now, they were ending the afternoon with Gracie who had brought a tray spilling over with succulent slices of Mrs Harris’ freshly cooked gammon. To accompany this were fresh cheeses, sweet salads, warmly baked bread and ripe red strawberries.

  ‘Mrs Harris has gone to a lot of trouble,’ Flora said to Gracie as they drank the pressed apple juice from thick glass tumblers. ‘Please tell her how much I enjoyed it.’

  ‘I’ll tell ’er,’ Gracie said as she stuffed the last strawberry into her mouth. ‘But she probably won’t hear. Too busy sweating over the stove for tonight.’

  ‘What about tonight?’ Hilda asked, looking bored.

  ‘Ain’t you ’eard?’ Gracie’s pale face flushed.

  ‘No.’ Hilda sat up.

  ‘Don’t matter. It ain’t nothing.’

  Hilda looked thunderous. Gracie prepared to leave, and Hilda pulled her down again.