“They were good boys. The worst thing they done were run up and down those long halls or kick a ball indoors. Tom could get into mischief now and then, but that just meant that he'd hide under the table in the servants' hall or splash the laundry maids, and the one time he got caught looking up Macy's dress.
“It worked out nicely for the servants 'cause everyone took turns taking the boys outside to play. Getting outside were a big thing for us. I actually looked forward to hauling coal or going to the wood pile 'cause it got me outside where I could at least see the sky.
“I think it were 1922 when Lady Lacey invited me and my family to Harvest Home at Montclair. I hadn't seen her in years and years, and she come over and said, 'Dottie, I'm so glad you could come.' It were like she'd seen me the day before.
“And Miss Elizabeth was there with her older boy scampering around getting into everything. It were a lot of fun to see Jack chasing after him, seeing how we used to chase after Jack. And you, young man,” she said, pointing at Michael, “didn't come into this world for another couple of months, but it were plain as day your mum was going to have another baby. So we've already met one time before.” Dottie laughed, which caused a coughing fit. “Fags,” she said, pounding her chest. “Don't never start smoking.”
I asked Dottie if there was anything else she would like to share. After giving it some thought, she said, “I think back to those days, and I can hardly believe how much of our lives were given over to those above stairs. But then I think about those below stairs. They were my family. The footmen were my brothers, and the maids were my sisters. When Jimmy and I started walking out, Mrs. Crowell had the 'birds and bees' talk with me like she were my mum, and Mr. Crowell sat Jimmy down and let him know that there'd be 'consequences' if he didn't treat me right. And we had fun. The lot of us, the junior servants, I mean, would get silly and laugh our fool heads off.
“We've come such a long way from those days when you couldn't walk down the road without getting the housekeeper's permission, and all I can say is, I'm glad that none of my kids ever had to go into service. That would have been hard for me to take.”
After leaving Dottie's flat, Michael and I went to a fish and chips shop and then to Trafalgar Square to eat. As always, the square was covered in pigeons, all waiting for one of us to drop a crumb. Michael was unperturbed by pigeons hopping on his shoes, but I stomped my feet to get them away from me.
“Well, what did you think?” I asked.
“I agree with Dottie. You are 'quite a looker,' but you're prettier than Gene Tierney. And that were the truth.”
“Thanks, Tyrone. That's quite a compliment coming from someone who is better looking than Clark Gable and Cary Grant put together. But what did you think about Dottie?”
“Did you see the thickness of her glasses?” Michael asked. “They looked like shot glasses.”
“I meant what did you think about her working at Montclair as a servant?”
“There wasn't all that much that was new for me. Don't forget, my grandparents were servants,” Michael said, pulling tiny pieces off of his chips and throwing them to the pigeons. “On rainy days, James and I loved running up and down the backstairs. One time, Dad said, 'Try going up and down those stairs carrying a bucket of coal because that's what the servants had to do.' It was as if a light went on in my head. For the first time, I noticed how the stone was worn in the middle of the steps from all of the times the servants had gone up and down, answering servants' bells or hauling hot water for the master's bath. After that, I'd think about all those servants who did that because they had to—people like Dottie and my grandparents.”
Some of what Dottie had shared was also familiar to me. I had plucked my share of chickens, and I had hauled buckets of coal up from the cellar to keep the kitchen fire going. Our family got all of our coal from my uncle's bootleg hole near the cemetery. When Uncle Bill dumped a load in our backyard, my father would string up lights for a “coal-cracking party.” All the kids had their own hammers to break the coal into pieces small enough to fit into our stove. By the time we finished, the tips of our fingers were raw from handling the jagged pieces of anthracite, but the next day we would be treated to an ice cream cone at Walsh's.
“It's amazing to me how loyal the servants were, when they were basically second-class citizens. Your Dad told me his father was so angry when he found out your parents were getting married. It was as if he had betrayed the Laceys by presuming to marry into the family.”
“Loyalty is usually a good thing,” Michael said. “There are times, such as war, when it is what binds a people together, allowing them to do collectively what they could not possibly do individually. But it can also mean that someone, such as my grandfather, would never question anything that was asked of him by 'his betters,' and it can be even trickier in personal relationships.”
“For example?” I asked.
“For example, Audrey. I should have ended it sooner, but I had this misguided sense of loyalty because she was such a nice lady. Eventually, I had to let go.”
“You seem to be attracted to older women,” I said, knowing that Michael had been talking about Rob and me.
“I'm attracted to intelligent women, regardless of age,” he answered quickly. “It's true I was often more comfortable with someone who had a few years on me because I was pretty awkward around women.”
“Michael, I don't want to give you a big head, but you're handsome, intelligent, witty, well-traveled, and yet when you talk about women, it's like 'Golly, gee. Aw, shucks!'”
“You have to remember I went to an all-boys' school and then to The Tech, which is not co-educational.”
“You can't tell me that Manchester didn't have attractive women.” I just found it hard to believe that someone as charming and easy to talk to as Michael could be so clumsy around girls, especially in light of the way he was constantly flirting with me.
“Let me tell you a story that will give you an idea of just how backwards I was. When I was at The Tech, James came up from Cambridge for the weekend, and we went to this dance hall. James picked up a girl right away. This girl grabs a friend, and we go back to her house. Her parents aren't home, so she marches James right upstairs. I'm left all alone with Linda, whom I hadn't known thirty minutes earlier. We're sitting there, and she says, 'Well, what would you like to do?' and I said that I'd like some tea. She says, 'Aren't you a laugh,' and starts kissing and pawing me and sticking her tongue in my mouth and in my ear. I managed to get from under her and went back to my room. When James saw me later that night, he called me an idiot, and said, 'She would have done anything you wanted.' And I said, 'All I wanted was for her to keep her tongue out of my mouth.'
I tried not to laugh, but it was impossible. The idea of a guy having to fight off a girl because she was overly aggressive was too funny.
“Sure, it's funny now. But at the time, I felt as if I was being defiled,” he said with his million-dollar smile.
“What happened the second year at The Tech?” I asked, still laughing.
“I did a little better than in the first term, but then I got called up. After my basic and advanced training, I ended up in Lincolnshire at a bomber base.”
“Where you met Edith?”
“Where I met Edith.”
I couldn't stop laughing. I stood up and held out my hand. “Come on, Tyrone. It's time for Gene to see you safely home.”
Chapter 41
IN LATE NOVEMBER, A dense fog engulfed most of Western Europe. Airports shut down, ships collided, trains plowed into each other, and cars crashed. With visibility reduced to a matter of feet, people began to carry flashlights when they were out walking.
The fog made me rethink my promise to Beth to stay in England through the holidays. I realized that if I received a telegram with news that my aunt's condition had worsened, it might be impossible, because of the weather, for me to get home in time to see her. I decided to book a seat on the first available flight to th
e States. I wanted to make sure that I would have one last chance to be with my aunt.
The person in charge of scheduling travel for AAFES employees informed me that, because of the fog, there was now a wait time of at least two weeks for nonessential personnel, and movement on that list could take place only once the fog lifted. A few days after I mentioned my situation to Geoff, I was summoned to Rand's office. Although Rand was always polite to me, I still had the feeling that whenever he addressed me, I was being called on the carpet.
“Maggie, you are not in trouble unless you've done something that I don't know about.” I shook my head, and he continued, “Geoff has acquainted me with the state of your aunt's health. Weather permitting, I am returning to Washington on December 15th. I am allowed to travel with one dependent. Are you interested?”
Although December 15th was still ten days off, I would actually have a scheduled departure date. This might be the only way I could get home. I went over and kissed him on the cheek. He smiled for a second before telling me that I would have to make my own way from Washington to Minooka. That would not be a problem because it was something I had done many times during my two years in the District during the war.
Now that I had a better than average chance of leaving on a certain date, I had to finish up the timeline for the history of the Lacey family. That was the easy part. The hard part would be saying good-bye to the Crowells because I wasn't sure if I would be returning to England.
I telephoned Beth and asked if I could come to Crofton Wood on December 11th. She said she would love to have me, but that she and Jack were to attend the wedding of Ginger Bramfield's daughter in Derby on that Saturday. It was the last weekend before I would leave, so I told her I would like to come anyway. I carefully packed up Elizabeth Garrison's diaries and the other letters Beth had given to me, so that I could complete Mrs. Caton's project. I had become so caught up in Elizabeth's story that I felt as if I was parting with a friend. As I traveled north on the train from Euston Station, I noticed that the fog was beginning to lift. If the weatherman was correct, I would be able to leave with Rand on Wednesday.
I had planned to tell the Crowells about my return to the States as soon as I got to Crofton Wood, but with the Bramfield wedding the next day, it didn't seem like the right time to spring my news on them. It would be best to tell them on Sunday, and then head for the train station.
“Mike's been here three days now, and we can't get his nose out of a book,” Jack said. “He's always been one to get after something once it's caught his fancy, and it seems that going into medicine has done just that. His mother and I convinced him to get out, so he's down at the Hare and Hound with Freddie.”
“We were surprised by his change of profession,” Beth added, “but also very pleased. He's certainly intelligent enough, and I know he spent a lot of time with Kavi, our bearer. Many of the servants considered him to be a healer who had cured them of their ailments.”
Patting me on my knee, Beth said, “To bed, my dear. I wouldn't be surprised if Michael had something planned for you tomorrow.”
I got up early to have breakfast with Jack and Beth before they headed to Derby for the Bramfield wedding, and then I went back to bed. My decision to return home had so unsettled me that I was losing sleep over it because there was an excellent chance I would not be coming back. I had this premonition that once I landed in America, I would be sucked into a vortex and deposited in Minooka.
After making the bed, I took Elizabeth Garrison's diaries, the draft of my booklet, and my notes downstairs to the study. I wanted everything to be in order, so Beth could deliver my drafts to Mrs. Caton, who had offered to pay me fifty pounds for my work. I would need that money if I used up the entire eight weeks of leave from AAFES because I would be paid for only the first two weeks.
I hadn't heard Michael come in last night, but I did hear him open the door to the study. “Good afternoon,” he said. “I didn't know you were coming, or I wouldn't have gone out last night with Freddie. It wasn't until I saw your coat on the rack that I realized you were here for the weekend.”
“It was a spur of the moment thing. London has been so depressing because of the fog.”
Although Michael had been discharged three weeks earlier, he was still wearing his Army sweater, and I asked if he was “nervous out of the service.” It was a term that had been coined by servicemen who were afraid there would be few jobs available once the American war machine shut down. It never happened; the economy was booming.
Looking at his sweater, he said, “I'm waiting for my separation pay. I got out a few days early because of some imaginative record keeping by my sergeant, but it screwed up my paybook. And I didn't get my demobbed suit either. Once I get the money, I'm buying a whole new wardrobe, and you'll never see this sweater again.”
“Your dad says you've had your nose in a book since you got here.”
“That's true. I want to be sure I'm on the right path, so I contacted a tutor recommended by the doctor who did my monthly weigh-ins at the Malta station. He was an Army doctor for thirty years and had seen everything, and he provided a lot of guidance.”
Looking over my shoulder at Elizabeth's diaries, he said, “Last time we talked, Elizabeth and William had gotten engaged. Did you get to the wedding night yet?” I nodded. Pulling up a chair next to mine, he asked, “Well, how did it go?”
I answered in full blush. “Elizabeth described it as a 'curious ritual,' but then she got the hang of it.”
Michael picked up the diary, and it fell open to a page dated 26 March 1793.
I have at last had a letter from Mr. Lacey. He writes he has been unwell and blames the foul London air for his complaints. Georgiana tends to his needs, but he wishes that another was in his chamber ministering to him. He assures me that as soon as he is well enough to ride, and if the weather stays fine, he will be in Hertfordshire at the earliest possible time. My feelings for him are so strong that I lie awake at night and go over in my mind our moments at Helmsley Hall when he first kissed me. I shall never forget the intensity of my feelings when he put his hands around my waist and pulled me to him. I pray that he will return to me soon, as I long for him to place his hands upon me once again.
“That's pretty hot stuff for its time, isn't it? Will Lacey wanting Elizabeth in his bed chamber, and she wanting him to put his hands on her again.”
I started to laugh. “She wants his hands around her waist. I'm sure that was exciting enough for someone who had never been kissed before.”
“If you think acting out the different parts will help in your research, I am at your disposal.” Looking at me intently, he asked, “Why are you blushing? Is it because I'm flirting with you?”
“That's part of it.”
“Is there any reason I should stop? Are you spoken for or engaged? Has something changed since I saw you in London?”
“Michael, why did you write that letter when you were in Germany apologizing for flirting with me? You said it wouldn't happen again, but you've done nothing but flirt since you got home.” The letter had jarred me. I thought he was letting me know that his interest in me had been a temporary thing and not to expect similar attention when he got back to England.
Michael sat back in his chair and said, “Because I was afraid I had scared you off—that when I got back to England, you would have moved to the States. Do you remember how I closed the letter I sent to my parents? I wrote, 'I love you all.' That was for you.”
There was no avoiding it now. I had to tell him I was leaving. “I am going back to the States on December 15th.”
Michael pushed back his chair to increase the distance between us. “It's not necessary for you to be so dramatic, Maggie. If you don't want to see me, it doesn't require your putting the Atlantic between us.”
I was stung by what he said, and I told him so. “That was unkind. If anything, you would be one of the reasons why I would stay.”
“What does that mean?”
“Michael, you would save yourself a lot of heartache if you would find yourself a nice British girl. Not an Australian and not an American.”
Michael stood up and pulled me out of my chair and said, “I don't want a nice British girl. I want you.” And he started to kiss me, pulling me into him so that I could barely breathe. He kept on kissing me until we had backed onto the sofa, and then he lay on top of me. With each movement, I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anyone or anything in my life. When he sat up and started to unbuckle his belt, I kicked off my shoes and was unhooking my nylons, when he suddenly stopped and pulled me up into a sitting position. I didn't understand why, and I started to cry.
With his arms around me, he said, “Maggie, with all of the things that you have on your mind right now, it would be wrong for me to make love to you.” Taking my hands in his, he continued. “You need to go home, but after seeing your aunt and family, you have to decide what it is that you want. If it's Rob, then I'll leave you alone. But if you decide that you want to be with me, I don't want any hesitation on your part—no second guessing—no regrets. I want you to feel about me in the same way that I feel about you. I'm not sharing you with anyone.”
We went for a ride to the Peak District. A cold front had brought with it beautiful blue skies but with enough clouds to cast shadows on the rolling terrain. We walked out onto a promontory for the most gorgeous view of the entire district. We discussed whether he should come to London before I left on Wednesday but decided it would be too obvious why he was there. Before returning to the house, we kissed and hugged, but mostly we talked.
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