Christine glanced at the owner of the car briefly before getting into the front seat next to the driver. She caught a glimpse of dark hair slightly greying at the temples, a lean, aristocratic face and a black coat with an astrakhan collar.
Caro obviously knew their benefactor well. She spent the next fifteen minutes chattering away to him, stopping only when the car drew up outside the Montgomery house. It was a fine example of early Georgian architecture on five storeys, and in one of the most desirable areas of the West End of London, being situated just across the road from St James’s Park.
“You must bring Miss Kavanagh to dine with me tomorrow,” he said and smiled at Christine as she got out of the car and stood waiting for Caro. “No, do not refuse me. I insist.”
“We should love to come. Say goodbye, Christine darling.”
“Goodbye, sir. It was kind of you to give us a ride home.”
“My pleasure, Miss Kavanagh. I shall look forward to seeing you tomorrow evening.”
The chauffeur handed Christine her parcels; she thanked him and hurried into the house in Caro’s wake as the rain suddenly started to hammer down.
“That was lucky.” Caro shook out her hair as she took off her small felt hat and handed it with her gloves to her husband’s elderly manservant. Christine knew that he had become the mainstay of the household with just Cook, one maid and a daily woman to help him, because it was no longer possible to find enough girls willing to go into service. They were all working in the factories, doing jobs the men had done before the war. “Thank you, Phelps. Has my husband telephoned?”
“He rang earlier. He is returning to London sooner than he had intended, because there is a flap on at the Ministry. Will you require tea, madam?”
“Yes, please – in the study.” Caro led the way into the comfortable but rather masculine room, which had book-lined walls and worn leather settees. She warmed her hands at the fire. “I don’t know what I would do without Phelps these days. It’s good news that Rupert is coming back sooner; it means I shan’t have to drag all the way up to Scotland, which is a relief. I prefer London at this time of the year – or the Cotswolds. I wonder what the flap is at the Foreign Office…I hope nothing serious has happened.”
Christine settled in one of the comfortable armchairs. She liked this room with its lingering smell of tobacco, books and the scent of cedar wood, which always made her think of its owner. Rupert was a quiet, thoughtful man who allowed his wife to rule the household, while maintaining a benevolent eye on proceedings from the background.
“Does Mr. Steddings work at the Foreign Office?”
“Not exactly. It’s all a bit hush, hush but I think he’s something important in the higher echelons of the Government’s advisers.” She smiled at Christine. “That’s besides being one of the richest men I know, and the nicest. It’s Sir Frederick actually, darling, but he never bothers with his title. He is in his early forties and a widower – no children, though. What we would have called a good catch before the war.”
“He seemed nice,” Christine said. “He reminded me of my father a little. I’m not sure why. They don’t look at all alike.”
“Goodness no,” Caro laughed. “Your father was a giant of a man, Christine. He always reminded me of a marauding pirate, in the nicest possible way of course. Freddie is an aristocrat. Not that your father wasn’t from a good family, but the Kavanaghs weren’t English – Hungarian or something like that.”
“Daddy was Polish. He left Poland some years before the First World War and made his fortune here, but his grandfather was a Count, I think.” She smiled at her memories. “He did sometimes look like a big bear – it’s strange that Harry didn’t take after him.”
“Your brother is rather like your mother’s side of the family. An intellectual, I believe?”
“I wish Harry would write to me. It isn’t like him not to for this length of time.”
“He is probably too busy. I know everyone thinks we’ve almost beaten the Germans because we’ve had some advances, but that’s often when things go haywire: logistically speaking.”
“Yes, I expect so.” Christine sighed. “I think Sir Frederick had kind eyes. Yes, that’s what made me think of my father – his eyes.”
“Yes, now you mention it, I suppose he has.” Caro gave her a speculative look. “He’s a bit old for you, darling, but highly eligible, of course.”
Christine blushed. “I didn’t mean…”
“No, of course not!” Caro laughed as she pulled a face. “He is the sort who would cherish you, Christine. Not that you aren’t cherished already, but some of us need it more than others. You’ve heard what they say – better to be an old man’s darling than a young man’s slave – and in some cases it’s true.”
“You are incorrigible,” Christine realized that she was being teased. “I don’t want to be Lady Steddings so you can stop looking at me like that.”
“I should be most upset if you did,” Caro said truthfully. “I’m rather hoping you and Simon may get together one day. No, don’t blush, Christine. I know he thinks a lot of you – why else would he want to convalesce at Penhallows when we have perfectly good houses of our own?”
“Perhaps he likes the air where we are? It’s such lovely countryside.” Christine could think of several reasons why Simon might choose to convalesce at Penhallows, but she couldn’t help hoping that one of them was because he wanted to be with her.
“Yes…” Caro arched her brows, then shook her head. “No, I shan’t tease you about it. You are both very young yet and you want to have some fun – but I have thought it would be nice.”
Christine smiled and tried not to let her feelings show. She couldn’t wait for Simon to come home and she prayed every night that he hadn’t been too badly injured – that he would be as she remembered him, the man she loved…
Sir Frederick Steadings’ house in Hampstead was twice as large as Jack’s and furnished in a rather grand way with lots of important antiques, heavy gilt-framed paintings and mirrors, and some rather valuable Persian carpets.
Christine was impressed, but thought it was a little on the cold side, and not as comfortable as her own home. Of course the introduction of bright new drapes at the windows might make all the difference.
“I had a lot of stuff stored in bank vaults during the worst of the Blitz,” he told Christine when she admired a painting of a garden with people taking refreshments by Renoir. “But I hated living here with the rooms half empty so when things quietened a bit after the blitz, I ordered everything put back. If the place does take a hit I shall probably go with it – so what does it matter?”
“Freddie, don’t! I sincerely hope that won’t happen. Besides, it would be a pity if some of these things were destroyed,” Caro said. “They must be irreplaceable, not to mention priceless.”
“We can none of us take it with us.” His steady grey eyes rested on Christine’s face for a moment. “I’ve no heirs – the whole lot will go to the nation when I die.”
“Unless you marry again.” Caro gave him a teasing look. “I am sorry I don’t have any daughters, Freddie. I must see what I can do about finding you a wife to keep you company in this barn.”
“Caro,” Christine said, thinking her a little tactless to remind him of his widowed state. “Perhaps Sir Frederick would rather do things his own way.”
“I was merely teasing. Freddie knows I wouldn’t dream of meddling.”
“Wouldn’t you?” Sir Frederick said. “How disappointing of you, Caro.”
Christine laughed at their banter. She liked most of Caro’s friends, but she thought that perhaps Sir Frederick was one of the nicest. He treated her as if she were a woman and not a child, as her family still did too often.
“You are very quiet,” he said, glancing at her suddenly at dinner. “Don’t you like duck? I could ask for something else for you if…”
“It’s delicious,” she assured him hastily. “I was dreaming. I’m so
rry. I have a habit of doing it and I really shouldn’t – especially in company.”
He nodded, looking at her thoughtfully for a moment. “I suppose he’s in the army or something – your boyfriend? That’s why you aren’t engaged or married yet?”
“Don’t tease her,” Caro came charging to the rescue. “She’s nineteen, Freddie, just out of boarding school. She wants a little fun before she thinks about marriage.”
“Only nineteen? Really?” He looked at her, brows arched, teasing smile in his eyes. “I thought you at least twenty or more, Christine. You seem so sensible – so thoughtful. Excellent qualities in a woman I’ve always thought.”
“Thank you.” Christine wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or not. “Mummy says it’s because I’ve spent so much time with my grandfather, especially when I was small. I adored him and he was my best friend.”
“That might explain it. But perhaps it wasn’t fair to you. Children need other children.”
“I had cousins,” Christine said. “And friends at school – but Henry is special to me.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything further, looking thoughtful. He turned his attention to Caro; they discussed the war and the present political situation for a while.
Because it was a small, intimate meal, Sir Frederick abandoned his port in favour of retiring to the drawing room with his guests. They all had coffee and liqueurs instead.
It was a quiet, pleasant evening. An engagement was made for a concert that was being held two days later at one of the theatres that was opened up again for both afternoon and evening performances.
It was not until they were home, and Christine was about to enter her bedroom that Caro spoke out.
“Be careful, darling Christine,” she warned. “I was teasing you yesterday when we discussed it, but Freddie is interested in you. He is obviously considering remarrying.”
“Surely not?” Christine wrinkled her brow. “We’ve hardly met – and he’s more than twenty years older than me.”
“Well, there is it. I’ve given you my opinion. If you encourage him, Freddie will make you an offer.”
“Please don’t say that,” Christine was shocked. “Whatever shall I say if he does ask me?”
Caro pursed her mouth. “That, my darling, is entirely up to you.”
Caro’s warning made Christine watchful and slightly more reserved when they went to the concert. She enjoyed the music very much, and she still liked Freddie as he insisted she must call him. However, she certainly did not wish him to make her an offer of marriage.
Her own desires centered firmly on another person, who was never far from her thoughts. She couldn’t wait for him to come home. On the morning of the day before she was due to return to Penhallows, she was woken by excited voices somewhere on the landing. A few moments later Caro swept into her room dressed in a heavy silk wrap. Her hair still fell about her shoulders, as if she hadn’t spared time to put it into its usual neat style.
“Darling! I must tell you,” she cried. “It is the most delightful surprise. Rupert is home and he has Simon with him. They arrived a few minutes ago. Rupert knew he was coming, of course; that’s why he came back to town early. He wanted to surprise me”
“How is Simon?” Christine cried, jumping out of bed in her serviceable wincyette pyjamas. “Is he badly hurt? How was he wounded?”
“He looks marvellous to me,” Caro said. “He’s limping a little bit so it must have been his leg – and there’s just the tiniest scar on his right temple, but he assures me there is nothing to worry about.”
“Thank God,” Christine whispered. She was limp with relief but tried not to let it show. “I thought it might be much worse.” She felt like weeping and laughing all at the same time. “When can I see him?”
“He went to his room,” Caro said. “I think the journey up from Southampton tired him a little, and he wants a nice hot bath and a rest, but says he will dine with us this evening.”
“Will he be home for long?”
“Apparently, he was due for some leave, and with his sick leave – well, Rupert says it’s just possible that he may be out of it for good.”
“That would be wonderful.”
Caro nodded her agreement.
“Has he said anything about going down to Penhallows?”
“I’m not sure. I couldn’t take him before next week, and I think he might find the train too exhausting. We mustn't forget he has been ill, even though he insists that he is quite well now.”
“No, of course not,” Christine said. She was on fire to see him but knew it wouldn’t do to be impatient. She hadn’t seen Simon for almost two years now. He probably still thought of her as a schoolgirl. “I think I’ll go along to that fundraiser they are putting on for War Widows and Orphans as I'd previously arranged, Caro. After all there is no hurry, is there? We shall see each other every day when we are in the country.”
“So you'll be coming down on Sunday then?” Beth smiled as she heard the note of pleasure in her daughter’s voice. “You say a friend of Caro’s is lending you his car for the journey? That’s very good of him, especially with it being so difficult to get enough petrol these days.”
“I don’t think Sir Freddie has any difficulty with that,” Christine said. “Caro says he’s something important in the Government and he gets all he needs apparently. Anyway, I met him at an official fundraising event, after Simon came home, and told him I wasn’t sure how we would get to Penhallows. He immediately offered his car and driver.”
“That was really nice of him. I hope you thanked him properly, darling.”
“Yes, of course. Caro invited him to dinner last night. He and Rupert were locked away in the study for hours afterwards, talking about things. It isn’t in the papers yet, but there’s something important going on – Rupert has to attend a hush, hush meeting at the War Office. He hasn’t said much, but Caro says it looks as if the Allies will be making a push to cross the Rhine any day now.”
“This terrible war,” Beth said and sighed. “I can’t wait for it to be all over. The last one was bad enough, but this is worse. Anyway, let’s talk of something more pleasant. Is Sir Frederick coming down with you on Sunday? I believe I have met him at Caro’s once but I should like to meet him again.”
“No, only his driver. Sir Freddie is too busy to come himself. I think he’s quite important, though he never says anything about his work, of course.”
“I don’t suppose he’s allowed to these days.”
“No – it’s this wretched war. It spoils everything.”
“Are you all right, darling?” Beth sensed something in her daughter’s manner but wasn’t sure what was behind it. “Simon is on the mend, isn’t he?”
“Yes. I was surprised when I first saw him. He looks so much older, Mummy – more serious.”
“That’s to be expected after what he’s been through, darling.”
“Of course. I know he couldn’t be the same. It’s just me being silly. I thought it would be the same as before, but it isn’t. He’s still Simon but different…I feel shy of him somehow.”
“Give it time, Christine. He needs a little peace, and you need to get to know him again. When he went away he was still very young, only just out of college: now he’s a man.”
“He wants to come to Penhallows because he feels he will be allowed to be by himself sometimes there. If he went home all the tenants on the estate would call or expect him to visit. You know how it is. At Penhallows he’s simply a guest, not a conquering hero.” Christine laughed nervously. “No one is allowed to talk about what he did – Did you know he was wounded saving another soldier's life? He gets upset if anyone mentions it, so you won’t will you?”
“Of course not. Nor will Henry.”
“How is he?”
“The same as always, refuses to rest as much as he ought, but I’ve given up worrying. He will go his own way.” Beth paused for a moment, then, “Oh, we’ve got young Matthew with us
now, Christine. His uncle brought him down yesterday. Mr Crane seems rather nice. I believe he has a posting near here. He was asking if I knew of any empty cottages in the area. He wants to buy something in a rough state and do it up himself. He was in the building trade before the war and is thinking of setting up again on his own account.”
“Oh…” Christine was at a loss to know how to answer. For some reason she hadn’t mentioned her meeting with Paul Crane and was embarrassed to do so now. “Have you had a letter from Harry?”
“No. I was going to ask you the same thing. It’s quite a while now, isn’t it? I might try phoning but the last time I did that they dragged him out of an important meeting.”
“You don’t suppose he’s been sent on active service?”
“Not for one moment. He’s too useful where he is. I expect he is just busy. If they were going to send him, it would have been ages ago.”
Both women were silent for a moment, reflecting on the dark days of the last few years. The awful feeling of fear when the British soldiers were trapped at Dunkirk and all the little boats went out to try and fetch our boys home, and of other times when despair had been hard to keep at bay as the papers reported nothing but failure and defeat.
“Yes, I suppose so,” Christine said. “We’ve been very lucky, haven’t we, Mummy?”
“Very. We tend to forget sometimes and grumble about the shortages – but we shouldn’t. We were never invaded and we have to be thankful for that…”
“Caro is always grumbling because Rupert works too hard. I suppose it is the same for everyone.”
“I am sure it is. Don’t worry about Harry. I must go, darling. I am expecting the Vicar at any moment.”
Beth didn’t realise that neither of them had mentioned Helene until after she had replaced the receiver, which made her feel vaguely guilty. Christine was right when she said they had been lucky, as a family they had suffered very little from the war.
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