One of the chauffeurs picked her up at the train station in a Bentley, and they drove through the imposing gates of the estate twenty minutes later.
The interview was conducted by the head housekeeper, a daunting looking woman with a thin, sharp face, wearing a severe black dress, with a heavy ring of keys on her belt. The head housemaid appeared at the end of the interview to walk Lucy through the house, which was as elegant and grand as the agency had said. The owner of the estate was the proprietor of one of the largest and finest department stores in England. They were commoners and extremely wealthy.
Some experienced servants who had been in service before the war preferred working for titled families, but Lucy didn’t care. Her potential employers had four young children, two nannies, and a nursery maid, but Lucy had applied for a job as a housemaid, which she knew she could do well. She wasn’t afraid of hard work.
She was told that the wife of one of the tenant farmers was willing to babysit for the housemaids’ children for a small fee during the day. It sounded like a perfect arrangement to Lucy. She would get one day off a week from morning, after her employers’ breakfast, until just before dinnertime, and she would be handsomely paid. It was exactly what she needed, and when they offered her the job before she left, she accepted immediately. She didn’t want to lose the opportunity, and it seemed like the ideal household for her to bring up her child. The chauffeur told her how much he liked working there on their way back to the train station. They had asked her to start the next day and she’d agreed.
She packed when she got back to the hotel, checked that the leather box with Charlotte’s papers was still in her suitcase, and felt for the key around her neck. The box of Princess Charlotte’s papers was Lucy’s insurance for the future, if it ever became advantageous to her to share the information in it with the queen. But for now, it was safe, and she was only going to use it if she had to. All she wanted now was to start a good job, and lead a good life.
They had told her that Annie could sleep in a crib in her room, or on a cot later when she outgrew it. Two of the housemaids had young children there as well. Their employers were supposedly modern and very flexible, but expected them all to work diligently and for long hours. They gave house parties nearly every weekend, dinner parties frequently, and balls in their grand ballroom several times a year. Unlike the more distinguished, aristocratic Hemmingses, with diminished funds, they seemed to have unlimited money to spend. It sounded like a very pleasant life and work experience to Lucy, and she could hardly wait to start the next day. She would be given her uniforms when she arrived, and a seamstress would fit them to her.
She took the train to Kent the next morning, and was picked up again, this time by a different chauffeur, who was even more pleasant than the first one. They stopped at one of the farms so she could drop Annie off for childcare, and once at the main house, he took her to see her room, on the top floor of the house. The chauffeurs and stablemen had already filled the rooms in the staff building, and the cottages were only available to couples, of which there were several on staff.
“What about you?” the young chauffeur asked her. “A husband or boyfriend?” He had looked her over thoroughly before he asked. She had an ordinary face, but a voluptuous figure, which would definitely appeal to some. She was a buxom girl and looked well in the black uniform and lace apron their employer expected them to wear. It made her look older than her nineteen years, very serious and professional, with a little white lace cap.
“All I have is my little girl.” Lucy answered the chauffeur’s question in a neutral tone. “My husband died in the war.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” the chauffeur said kindly. “Maybe you’ll meet a new man here,” he commented, and she smiled.
“That’s not what I’m here for. I’m here to work.” And she meant it. By nightfall, after working all day, every inch of her hurt and felt strained, as it never had before, but she knew she had done a good job, cleaning, scrubbing, waxing, and polishing all day. She had helped two footmen carry tables, had vacuumed several large reception rooms, and set the table impeccably for an informal dinner for twelve. She learned quickly from her coworkers, and liked their employers’ style. She hadn’t met them yet, although she had been told that the lady of the house was very fashionable. “Informal” to them meant the silver service, not the gold one they used for formal events.
The housekeeper had checked on Lucy several times throughout the day, and corrected her whenever she thought it necessary. She didn’t like the way Lucy fluffed up the cushions on the small drawing room couch, or the way she arranged the curtains after she opened them, and she reminded Lucy to wear a fresh uniform and apron every day, and if she got one dirty, she was to go to her room and change. Lucy was startled at the end of the day when she went outside for some air and bumped into one of the stable boys walking a horse back to the barn. He smiled as soon as he saw her.
“When did you arrive?” the stable boy asked, clearly admiring her. He was taller and broader than she was. He had piercing blue eyes, brown hair, a strong face, and a warm smile.
“About six hours ago,” she answered him, slightly out of breath. “I haven’t sat down all day since I arrived.”
“They’ll work you hard, but they’re fair employers,” he informed her. “She can be difficult, but he’s a great guy. He made a fortune and she spends it lavishly. He doesn’t seem to mind. He’s a generous man. He’s got a few dollies on the side, but you never see them unless she’s away with the children.”
“That must get interesting,” she said, enjoying the gossip with the stable boy. He was a nice-looking man with a warm, outgoing personality that made him even more attractive.
“I’m Jonathan Baker, by the way, and I’m going to run these stables one day. My boss is twenty years older than I am, and he’s going to retire before long. I want to be there to pick up the pieces.” She could easily believe he would. He seemed like an enterprising guy, and had a bold upbeat way about him, without being offensive. Just the way he looked at her and smiled made her like him. He looked to be a few years older than she was, he wasn’t handsome in a classic sense, but he had a kind face, and she liked his powerful broad shoulders. She introduced herself, since he had, and they went on chatting for a few minutes. It was easy to feel comfortable with him.
“Do you like horses, Lucy?” he asked her.
“Not really,” she said. She had wanted to learn to ride while she was at Ainsleigh in order to get closer to Henry, but he had never offered to teach her, and she felt foolish asking him. And then Charlotte had arrived, with her remarkable skill as a horsewoman, which had impressed him, and Lucy had retreated to the kitchen. “They look like big, dangerous beasts to me. I never learned to ride when I was younger. The cobbler’s daughter doesn’t get riding lessons.” She smiled at him.
“Neither does the blacksmith’s son usually. I fell in love with them as a boy. They’re not frightening once you get to know them, the good ones. I can teach you about them.”
“I doubt that I’ll have time for riding lessons. It looks pretty busy to me around here. And I have a daughter. I’ll need to spend my time off with her. She’s thirteen months old. I’ll be leaving her at Whistlers’ farm while I work.”
“War widow?” he asked her, “or do you have a husband tucked away somewhere?”
“He died right before she was born, three months after he joined the army.”
“There are too many stories like that one. I was in France myself on D-Day. They died like flies all around me, the poor devils. I got lucky, I guess. I just got back a month ago. I grew up here. My grandfather was a tenant farmer to the previous owner, and my father was the blacksmith. We’ve been here longer than the current owners. They bought the place seven years ago, right before the war. The previous ones went broke, after the last war. They hung on as long as they could, and
finally sold. All three of their sons were killed in the Great War. I like working in the stables. I want to run them one day.” The horse he’d been leading started to get restless then, and they both had other things to do. “It’s been nice talking to you. I’ll keep a lookout for you. The stable hands don’t eat in the servants’ hall. We have our own kitchen here, and cook our own food.”
“See you again sometime.” She smiled at him again. He led the horse back to the barn, and she went to pick up Annie after work. She was crying and fussy when Lucy got there in her uniform, and she walked all the way back, holding her, thinking about what a good place this was going to be for Annie when she got a little older. The Markhams’ estate in Kent was a perfect place for a child and anyone who didn’t mind being in service, which didn’t bother Lucy. She had a roof over her head, plentiful meals three times a day. The Markhams treated their servants well, and everyone said that the wages were better than they had been before the war. There were forty or fifty employees in various positions around the estate, gardeners, chauffeurs, stable hands, as well as those who worked in the house. The newcomers had more staff than most of the original owners, except in the days before the Great War. It had changed everything on the big estates, as money began to run out and the order of things changed.
The new owners could afford to maintain the properties the way the old owners no longer could. It was new money, which the aristocrats looked down on. They had no titles unless they bought them, which some did. Some of the more desperate landowners sold their titles along with their estates, but the Markhams were commoners and didn’t mind it. They made up in wealth what they lacked in blood and ancestry. But Lucy knew she trumped them all. She had a royal princess as a daughter, and her grandparents were the King and Queen of England. It didn’t get better than that, even if no one knew it. Lucy did, which was all that mattered to her. It always thrilled her when she thought about it. It was so surreal, and an enormous secret. Her baby was a Royal Highness, and Lucy was going to give her the best life she could, worthy of any princess, to the best of her ability. Working for the Markhams was the first step. Maybe she’d rise to housekeeper one day, with a ring of keys on her belt like Mrs. Finch, who ran the Markhams’ home with an iron hand, but despite her odd, stiff ways and stern face, Lucy liked her. She was from the northern border of Yorkshire, and had the accent that had become familiar to Lucy while she stayed with the Hemmingses at Ainsleigh.
She settled into her job, determined to work hard, and had a letter from the housekeeper at Ainsleigh a few months later. She had let her know where she was, and told her she’d found a good job. The housekeeper from Ainsleigh reported that the estate had been sold to an American. The old servants had all been let go. The new owner was going to spend a year or two remodeling everything and modernizing the place, and would hire a new staff after they did, probably some of them American. They had bought the place for very little.
Her big news was that two palace secretaries and the queen’s equerry had come from London shortly after Lucy left. They had exhumed Charlotte’s casket and taken her remains back to London for a service there, and it turned out that Charlotte had been a royal princess. It had all been arranged very quietly, and the palace emissaries hadn’t said much about it. No one at Ainsleigh had suspected that Charlotte had apparently been a member of the royal family. It made what they thought was her illegitimate love child even more shocking. And out of respect for the Hemmingses, sympathy for Charlotte, and loyalty to Lucy, no one had breathed a word about Annie. The housekeeper wrote that they hadn’t asked about the baby, and she had the strong feeling they didn’t know about her, which was probably just as well. Henry and Charlotte were both dead. Annie was illegitimate and she was in good hands. The whole matter was better left buried and forgotten. There was no point maligning the dead and causing a scandal. She also mentioned that they had taken her big horse back to London with them.
Lucy still believed she had done the right thing, taking her because she loved her, particularly since they didn’t know about Charlotte’s clandestine marriage to Henry Hemmings. It would all be forgotten now, and she and Annie could go on with their lives. She had left just in time, which was providential. She didn’t write back to the housekeeper, and didn’t want to pursue a friendship with them and maintain a connection. She wanted to put Ainsleigh behind her. It was history now. And they could have exposed her. Fortunately they didn’t know about the marriage, which would have changed things if they did, Lucy had turned the page and started a new life where no one knew her. At the Markhams’, she was just another war widow with a child. There were thousands of them all over England, some of whom had truly been married, and some not and only claimed to be. There were too many of them to ask questions or garner much interest. The Ainsleigh servants were happy for Lucy and Annie.
And no one at the Markham estate had questioned Lucy about Annie. They just thought she was a pretty little thing, and they never commented that she looked nothing like her mother. Lucy was a tall girl with a big frame, and despite her size at birth, Annie already had the delicate frame and features of her natural mother. Lucy could already see how much she looked like Charlotte. She had the face of an angel and white blond hair, with sky blue eyes. She was going to be a beauty one day, and she was already small for her age, which Lucy blamed on rationing and how little food they’d had in Yorkshire at the end of the war. The restrictions of rationing hadn’t been lifted yet, but they ate well at the Markhams’, who managed to feed their employees plentifully. And Lucy gave whatever treats she had to Annie. She never minded depriving herself for her baby. Lucy had convinced herself by then that Charlotte’s family would have rejected her because of how her birth came about, and everyone at Ainsleigh believed it too. Annie would have been the child of a regrettable mistake, a disgrace they would have buried and probably put her somewhere with people who didn’t love her as Lucy did. Lucy had no trouble justifying what she’d done by taking her. Her love for the child made it seem right to her. In her mind, love was stronger than blood or ancestry. She might not have a royal life, or live in a palace, but little Annie had a mother who loved her deeply. What more could she want or need? Lucy had no regrets. She never let herself think about it now. Annie was her baby. And anything she’d had to do to become her mother seemed right to her. And like Charlotte, she would go to her grave with her secrets.
* * *
—
The service for Princess Charlotte was a private one with only her sisters and parents present. They buried her at Sandringham because she had loved it. The queen was devastated when they brought her home, and Victoria mourned her even more deeply than the others, remembering every unkind word and criticism she had ever uttered, which cut through her now like knives, each time she remembered one of them. She had even accused her of fakery with her asthma, and in the end it had killed her. It was a sad day for all of them when Charlotte came home at last. The king felt it acutely. She had been his most favored child because she was the youngest and had such a light spirit and gentle manner. It was hard to imagine that she would never dance through their palaces again, and her delicate little face wouldn’t make them smile.
It was more than a year after her death when they buried her at Sandringham, and seeing her casket lowered into the ground tore at their hearts. She would be forever mourned by the family that loved her. The queen blamed herself for sending her to the country, but how could they have known what terrible fate would befall her there? It still shocked them that the earl and countess had died as well, and their son. It was a tragic story, and a loss none of the Windsors would forget. Her mother visited her grave every day, until they went back to London. Then life went on, with their duties to their war-torn country, but Princess Charlotte would live in their hearts forever. And the joy she spread around her in her short life would burn brightly. And none of them imagined even for an instant that she had a child who was the im
age of her, living as the daughter of a housemaid in Kent. The child was unknown to them, and lost forever.
Chapter 6
By Annie’s second birthday, Lucy felt as though they had lived on the Markham estate forever. They were exemplary employers, and Lucy had worked for them for a year by then. She was diligent in her duties, and Mrs. Finch, the housekeeper, had increased them. Lucy was twenty, and was mature beyond her years, with the added responsibility of being a mother so young, and having no family of her own. Annie was the darling of the other servants, who loved to play with her and spoil her. She had a sunny, loving personality, and they frequently said she looked like a little fairy, dancing around her mother with her big blue eyes and light blond hair. Lucy always said she looked just like her father, to explain why she looked nothing like her. She looked remarkably like Charlotte, and it appeared that she had inherited her diminutive size as well. Lucy was big-boned and solid.
The rest of the house staff was always knitting something for her, or making a bonnet, or carving little pull toys she could drag along behind her. She would clap her hands and chortle with delight whenever they gave her something or hugged her. They loved seeing her when Lucy brought her back from the farm at night after dinner. She let her play in the servants’ hall for a few minutes and then took her upstairs, bathed her, and put her to bed. Lucy sang to her as she fell asleep, and would look at her adoringly in her crib during the night. She still seemed like an angel who had dropped from the sky to Lucy, and she thanked heaven every day for the gift of this child. Annie was her passion and the love of her life. She loved her as she would have Henry, if he’d let her. But now, that no longer mattered. He was gone, and she had Annie, for the rest of her life. What she felt for her was better than the love of any man.
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