by Brown, T. J.
Victoria turned. Susie was right. Prudence was swaying on her feet. “Come into the sitting room,” Victoria urged. “Please get a roaring fire going in the fireplace, Susie. I’ll put a kettle on for tea.”
“Oh, miss, that’s fine! I can do both, really. You look all done in yourself. Just sit and I’ll put everything to rights. I was just a bit taken aback by your sudden appearance, that’s all.”
Victoria frowned, but let herself be persuaded. She really was bushed. She collapsed in her favorite chair while Susie busied herself by fussing over Prudence. She tucked a throw over Prudence’s legs and then grabbed another for Victoria. Victoria felt herself relaxing. Her father had always been ambivalent about having servants and had compensated them handsomely and treated them like members of the family. Victoria followed suit and, like her father before her, had been rewarded for her benevolence.
After starting a roaring fire, Susie disappeared to make the tea.
“How are you feeling?” Victoria asked Prudence a bit anxiously.
“Like I could sleep for a week. I may not make it back to the flat tonight.”
“That’s all right, dearest. You can borrow some of my night-clothes and sleep in the extra bed.”
Prudence nodded. “Why did you do it, Vic?” she asked suddenly.
Victoria stiffened. Just when she thought she was going to avoid talking about it tonight. She took a deep breath. “I have a confession to make.”
Prudence gave an inelegant snort. “I’ll say.”
“Hush now and listen!” Victoria frowned at Prudence. “Don’t interrupt.”
“I hardly think you’re in a position to make demands.”
Victoria kicked off the blanket wrapped around her legs, feeling suddenly overheated. “I’m going to go see what is keeping Susie with that tea.” She beat a hasty retreat into the hallway, then froze. Susie was pressed against a man and kissing him with a passion that showed a certain experience. Victoria’s mouth hung open. “Susie!”
Susie leapt away from the man as if he’d suddenly turned into a pillar of salt. “I’m sorry, Miss Victoria. I didn’t know you would be coming home.” She clapped her hand over her mouth as if she knew she’d said the wrong thing, and Victoria raised an eyebrow. “I mean, Gareth, Mr. Johnson, had no place to make merry, and since you were gone and Miss Eleanor was out, I thought, I mean . . .” Susie folded her hands and looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry, Miss Victoria.”
“You should be,” Victoria said.
“I’ll turn in my resignation.”
The man looked stricken, and Victoria turned her attention from her maid and to the man standing in her hallway. He twisted his cap in his hands and appeared to be older than Susie by about ten years. He was small, barely taller than Susie, but stood erect. “What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Johnson?”
He lifted his chin just a bit and looked her in the eye. “I’m only sorry for entering your home without meeting you first, miss. But I’m not sorry for kissing Suzanne, if that’s what you’re talking about. We haven’t done anything unseemly. I love her and would marry her, if she would have me, but she keeps saying no, that she’s too young to know her own mind and won’t let me make it up for her.”
Victoria blinked and Prudence came up behind her. “What’s going on?” she asked bewildered.
Victoria waved a hand. “Ask Susie, I barely know myself.”
Susie introduced her caller proudly, and again Victoria was impressed with his poise under extremely awkward circumstances. He turned to her. “I would hate for Suzanne to lose her position on my account, miss. My family lives in Yorkshire and she didn’t want me to be alone on Christmas. She was just being kind.”
“I wouldn’t fire Susie for this, though I wish she hadn’t felt it necessary to hide you. I was just thinking how wonderful she is and how lost I’d be without her.”
For the first time a look of resentment came to his blue eyes. “I suspect you would do what other posh ladies do and hire yourself a new maid. But I’ll be off now.”
He nodded at Prudence and Victoria and squeezed Susie’s hand. “I will see you next Wednesday evening like always.”
She gave him a nod and he left.
“So that’s what you do on your days off!” Victoria said accusingly. “You sly fox!”
Susie tried and failed to hide a smile, clearly pleased with her beau. Just then the teapot whistled and she waved Prudence and Victoria back toward the sitting room. “Go sit, I will bring us some tea and biscuits. You both look knackered.”
They had barely resettled into their chairs when Prudence attacked. “You have a confession?”
Victoria sighed. She might as well come clean. “When you asked me to go to Colin, I didn’t. I went to Uncle Conrad.”
A look of hurt crossed Prudence’s face and Victoria felt wretched. “Why?”
“Because you don’t go to the flautist when you want a symphony, you go to the conductor. Uncle Conrad has more power and connections than Colin will have for years and years. I knew that he could get the transfer done, where Colin wouldn’t be able to.”
Prudence looked at her hands. “Oh, Vic. You know how he feels about me.”
“And you know how I feel about you. You’re a Buxton. Not only were you raised like a Buxton, but you have as much Buxton blood as I do.”
Prudence shook her head. “That’s not the way the world works. At least, not your world.”
Prudence’s words were as bitter as wormwood, and Victoria went to her. Kneeling next to her chair, Vic wrapped her arms around her friend. “It’s not my world and it’s changing, you know it is. Uncle Conrad bought Rowena an aeroplane. How much more proof do you need?”
Prudence laughed and sniffled at the same time.
Victoria tilted her head back. “Pru, he didn’t even hesitate. Just said, yes, of course he would. And then when I wrote him about Andrew, he wrote back saying to send him any expenses the army didn’t pay.”
Prudence stared into the fire, and Victoria watched the light from the flames play across her fine features. “What am I going to do, Vic? Everything has changed.”
Victoria laid her head in Prudence’s lap. “You’ll love and care for your husband and your baby the best you can, just like you would if he had both feet. And take one day at a time, just like the rest of us.”
Victoria thought of Kit, fighting in some far-off place, and wondered if he ever thought of her. She wondered what would happen if he really was behind enemy lines as she suspected and something happened. Would his family be informed? Would Mrs. Kittredge even think to tell Victoria if something had happened? Worry gnawed at her stomach. She still hadn’t heard from him, which worried her even more. Kit wasn’t known for his silence. Clutching Prudence’s hand, she suddenly prayed with all her heart, Please let him be all right. Even if he hated her for the rest of his life. Even if he never spoke to her again.
Just as long as he is all right.
Please don’t let our angry words be the last words we ever have.
* * *
Rowena stood in front of Mr. Dirkes. She knew she looked a fright, but she hadn’t wanted to take time to clean up. In retrospect, she probably should have. She’d spent the entire night curled up in the aeroplane, and when the morning had dawned, bright and clear, she had flown back to the factory. Her clothing was wrinkled and damp, and her hair a tangled knot.
Mr. Dirkes took one look at her and began blustering, “Do you have any idea how worried we were about you when Albert showed up without you behind him? I was about to send out a bloody search party. What the hell were you thinking?”
She took a deep breath and remained calm. No doubt he spoke in exactly the same manner to his men. “I was doing my job, which was to bring the BE2 back to you in one piece. I got a later start than Albert, and he must have missed the storm. I had no choice but to land somewhere and wait it out.” She raised an eyebrow. “Unless, of course, you wanted me to risk bringing
the aeroplane through the storm?”
His red face matched his hair, and he looked as if the vein in his temple were going to blow. “Don’t be impertinent! Where did you stay?”
“In the aeroplane, of course. It was too nasty to try to find shelter, and besides, what was I supposed to do? Present myself on the steps of some stranger’s house and ask for accommodation for the night on Christmas Eve? Not to mention leaving a valuable aeroplane unprotected for hours.”
He scowled and Rowena hid a smile. She was far too reasonable, and it was annoying him. She crossed her arms and waited for a reply. This was almost fun.
“Fine. You should go home for Christmas. You’ve earned a rest, and I know my nerves have.”
She tilted her head and gave him a saucy smile. “Aren’t you going to tell me I did the right thing?”
“No!” he barked. “And happy Christmas!”
She laughed and held her arms out. “I’m perfectly fine, see? Now, don’t we have more aeroplanes to move? Why are you sending me home?”
He slammed a fist on the desk. “Why can’t you just do as you’re told? I told you that I was giving you a couple of days off. Now, come along. I’m taking you home to be with your family. Come back the day after tomorrow and we’ll finish moving the bloody aeroplanes.”
She saluted him and he grunted as he grabbed his coat and a bag. He must be spending Christmas with the Wells family. She wondered if Jonathon was allowed home for Christmas but refused to ask. It was no longer any of her business, no matter what he’d said on that sidewalk in Brighton.
She settled back into Mr. Dirkes’s Silver Ghost and closed her eyes. A rest did sound wonderful, and Aunt Charlotte and Uncle Conrad would worry if she didn’t show up for Christmas supper. Of course, it would take them almost four hours by motorcar, and that was only if they didn’t blow a tire. She’d barely get there in time to make herself presentable before supper.
Rowena woke up some hours later, groggy and disoriented. At some point Mr. Dirkes must have stopped and tucked a driving blanket around her because she was warm even in the chilly car.
“I thought you’d gone and turned into Sleeping Beauty,” Mr. Dirkes said.
“Where are we?” she asked, looking around. The sun was low in the sky, and barren, twilit fields surrounded them.
“About an hour on the other side of Cambridge. It won’t be long now.”
Rowena stretched and rubbed a hand over her face. Every muscle in her body ached from her night in the aeroplane, and falling asleep in the car hadn’t helped. Her hair stuck to the side of her face, and she was fairly sure she had never been this long without brushing her teeth.
Mr. Dirkes handed her a flask and a cheese sandwich. “I didn’t think to bring water, but the brandy should cut the thirst. Probably do you good, but don’t tell your aunt and uncle.”
She took a long pull off the flask and gasped a bit at the burn. “Thank you.” She smiled at the shock on his face.
“Well, now, you are pilot, aren’t you? No, keep it,” he said when she tried to hand it back to him. “You need it more than I do.”
She took a hungry bite of her sandwich. “I don’t know when I ate last.”
He grunted. “You better start taking care of yourself, missy. Jon will kill me if anything happened to you.”
The bite of sandwich stuck in her throat and silence fell between them. “Jon and I haven’t been together for a long time, Mr. Dirkes. I’m engaged to someone else, as you well know.”
“Huh. So you both say, but I know how he feels about you, and I can’t think as your feelings have changed all that much, no matter whom you’re engaged to.”
He sounded cross and Rowena was silent for some time before answering, “I don’t know how much you know about what happened between us, but Jon left me, not the other way around. I was shattered. Sebastian helped me put the pieces together, and I’m not likely to turn my back on that, and I have learned to love him very much.” Tears pricked at her eyes, but she knew it was true.
Mr. Dirkes reached over and patted her hand. “I’m sorry, lass. I shouldn’t have opened my big mouth. Please forgive me. And after the mess I’ve made of my own life, I’m the last person who should be handing out romantic advice so freely.”
Rowena turned to look at him in the darkening motorcar. “You’ve never married?” She’d always wondered about Mr. Dirkes’s being single. He seemed like the kind of man who should have a family of his own.
He shook his head. “No. I lollygagged around, and by the time I was ready to ask my love to marry me, she had gone south on a visit and ended up marrying an Englishman.”
So there had been a romance in Mr. Dirkes’s life. “She never came back?”
“Oh, she came back some years later with three strapping lads and about to issue another. It was clearly too late by that time.”
Her heart felt bruised and tender for this kind man who spent so much of his life alone. No wonder he lavished attention on Jon and his siblings and treated her like one of his own. A suspicion came to her and she mulled it over while she finished her sandwich. Finally she turned to Mr. Dirkes and asked him point-blank, “It was Mrs. Wells, wasn’t it?”
He was silent, and though she could no longer see his expression, she knew she was right.
“I love her still,” he said softly. “That’s why I never married. I couldn’t settle, you see, for someone who would only be second best.”
Rowena felt the gentle rebuke and said nothing as they turned into Summerset’s tree-lined drive. “You should ask her to marry you now. It’s not too late.”
He chuckled. “Don’t think I haven’t thought of that myself, lass.”
They pulled in front of the entrance to Summerset and Rowena handed him the flask. “For courage. And good luck.”
He took it and nodded. “I’ll be back day after tomorrow to pick you up.” He paused as Rowena gathered her things. “It’s not too late for you either, you know.”
She smiled as she climbed out of the motorcar and didn’t answer. Instead she just said, “Happy Christmas, Mr. Dirkes.” Then she turned toward Summerset.
chapter
fifteen
After Mr. Dirkes drove away, Rowena snuck around to the servants’ entrance. If she could possibly manage it, she was going to sneak up to her room without being detected and ring for a servant to draw her a bath. Even though the plans for the evening were far simpler than in previous years, Rowena knew that Aunt Charlotte’s closest companions would be there in force. They should still all be dressing for dinner, a tradition that was becoming as scarce as men under thirty.
The servants’ entrance led down under the great house where the wine cellar, servants’ hall, kitchen, pantry, and the butler’s and housekeeper’s offices were located. The predinner bustle of the kitchen reached Rowena as she tiptoed down the long hallway past the various doors on either side. Her stomach rumbled at the scent of roasting meat and freshly baked bread. Even a world at war couldn’t halt the steady array of delicacies coming from the Summerset kitchen.
She and the other girls had often come down here when they played hide-and-seek or to escape the heat. Not until she was older did she realize how much the servants disliked their trespassing on their domain.
“Miss Rowena!” Mr. Cairns’s voice could not have been more shocked than if he had found the Queen sneaking past his office.
By his voice, Rowena knew she must look much worse than she thought. She gave the Summerset butler a sheepish grin. “Good evening, Cairns. Could you please have one of the maids run me a bath? And have someone inform Lady Elaine that I am up in my room. I want to surprise my aunt and uncle when I appear for supper.”
The butler sniffed. “Very well, miss. Do you need someone to help you dress?”
She shook her head. “Lady Elaine will help me.”
As she started to move, a gentle cough stopped her. She turned back. “Yes, Mr. Cairns?”
He nodded toward
the servants’ stairs, and she gave him a conspirator’s smile. “Thank you, Cairns.”
Rowena slipped up the stairway and poked her head out into the hallway. The coast was clear and she hurried down the hall to her room. Sighing, she took off the men’s patent-leather shoes she wore whenever she flew. It was much easier to work the pedals in them than in any of the heeled shoes she usually wore, and dancing slippers weren’t practical—her feet would freeze at that altitude.
With a knock on the door a maid Rowena hadn’t before seen came into the room carrying a tea tray.
“Mr. Cairns said you might want some tea while waiting for your bath?”
“Yes, thank you, you can put it over there.” Rowena nodded toward a small table in front of the small, white-marble fireplace. She handed the maid her jacket.
“Would you like anything else, miss?”
“No, thank you. Oh, wait. I’ll need my clothes laundered and pressed by tomorrow night.” The maid nodded and went to start Rowena’s bath. With distaste she kicked off the split skirt she’d been wearing for over forty-eight hours. Aunt Charlotte had had bathrooms installed in all the family bedrooms and several of the guest bedrooms. Summerset had been one of the first country houses with both electricity and central heating. As traditional as she was, Aunt Charlotte did love her creature comforts.
Rowena sighed with relief as she slipped into the hot water. She’d like nothing better than a good long soak, but knew that she was already going to be late joining the others in the sitting room.
“You do like to cut things close, don’t you, Cousin?” she heard Elaine say as she came into the room. “You do know Mother is already fit to be tied because Victoria isn’t coming for Christmas. I think she would have had an apocalyptic fit if you hadn’t shown up.”
Elaine’s hands were on her hips. She was already dressed for dinner in an intricately whorled and beaded black gown with short lace sleeves. All of England, it seemed, was now in mourning and everyone wore black.
“Well, I haven’t shown up yet. Still have to dress and do my hair without collapsing. Could you please pick me out something to wear? Something simple with no corset.”