War Comes Home to Winthrop Manor: An English Family Saga (Winthrop Manor Series Book 2)

by Mary Christian Payne

  Josephine acquiesced to his wishes, but she wasn’t about to allow him to change the subject.

  “Oh, I do like it. Quite. Of course, you’re always beautiful, but this new hairdo makes you look years younger.”

  “Really? I imagine you’re quite used to this new trend on all of the Bright Young Things you spend time with at The Pussy Cat Club.”

  “Josephine, please. You know I’ve never looked at another woman since I met you.” His face had taken on a pale shade. It was apparent that he realized he was not going to wrangle his way out of the fix he found himself in.

  “Win, I ran into an old school chum of mine in Winthrop-on-Hart today. Her name is Barbara Stanley. She told me she recently spotted you leaving The Pussy Cat Club early in the morning hours with a young girl dressed as a flapper. Is she what fascinates you so about nightlife in London?”

  He reached out his hand and took hold of hers. “Let’s sit down. You’re right, as usual. I need to make a clean breast of things.” He led her to the sofa in front of the large drawing room fireplace, and they sat.

  Radcliffe appeared, bearing two glasses of gin and tonic.

  “I’ll not lie to you. I never thought I would resort to subterfuge, and it’s time I tell you the entire truth.”

  “What is it? Is there a problem?”

  “I suppose you could say so,” he replied. “You see, I have been going to The Pussy Cat Club. The first time I visited there, I had no of intention of staying. I dropped by because I’d heard of its opening and was curious. When I entered the club, I was totally astounded, since it’s much more glamorous than I’d anticipated. I saw several of the chaps who attended Oxford with me, and they invited me to have a drink with them. I figured I’d have one quick drink and head back to Winthrop Manor. Then, one of my chums suggested a game of poker. Actually, as you know, I’ve never been keen about the game, but found myself agreeing to play a hand or two.” Win turned to look at his wife.

  “Yes, however,” she retorted. “You didn't win, you lost. Am I correct?”

  He hung his head and ran a hand through his thick, black hair. “Yes, you’re right. Oh, I did win some...enough to keep me going. Eventually, I lost the entire twenty thousand.”

  Josephine jumped to her feet. Never in the course of their marriage had she displayed such anger. How could her husband be so foolish? She pulled a face and glared at him. “All right, Win. Just exactly how far in debt are we?”

  “Oh, God, Josephine. I hate to tell you. It’s very bad. Not only did I lose the original twenty thousand, but I lost over fifty thousand pounds more.”

  “God’s nightgown, Win! How could you? I’m terribly angry. You’re not a stupid man. You have always shown good sense and high morals. Now, you’ll ride off on Black Orchid, leaving me to come up with a solution. There will be taxes due on Winthrop Manor soon and on the London house, not to mention Andy’s schooling. Eton will follow in no time at all. Have you any idea how much Eton costs? We gave all of the staff wage raises when I managed to bail us out with my inheritance. What are we to do now?”

  Win stood and attempted to put his arms ‘round Josephine, but she pulled away from him and walked across the drawing room. “You still haven’t told me the identity of the woman Barbara saw with you. Barbara said you had your arm about her waist, assisting her into the Rolls Royce. Who is she?”

  “Oh, she’s nobody important—just someone I know who’d had a bit too much to drink. I offered her a ride home since she doesn’t live far from our townhouse. I intended to put her into a taxicab but couldn’t find one that was empty. So I gave up. It just seemed easier and quicker to allow David to drive us both.”

  “What if someone who knows us had seen you? What conclusion do you think they would have drawn? In fact, Barbara Stanley did see you.”

  “I apologise, Josephine. I didn’t think of that. You have to know I’ve never so much as looked at another woman since I met you.”

  “There was a time I would have believed that, but I’m not so certain now. You have been acting so odd. Barbara also said she saw you lean over and kiss this unknown woman once you were both in the car. Perhaps you’re having an affaire with her.”

  “Darling! Never! I was simply being kind.”

  “It most surely would have been more kind had you been home in your own bed with me,” she replied. “I’d suggest you start this confession over again.”

  “Josephine, I did, indeed, kiss her. She was quite drunk, babbling on about how she was in love with me and had been since first setting eyes upon me. I simply gave her a small kiss on the cheek to stop such nonsensical talk.”

  “The only way I feel I can regain my trust in you is if you’re willing for me to meet this ‘flapper’ Barbara saw with you. What is her name and where does she live? How old is she?”

  “Her name is Fiona Porter. I don’t know where she lives permanently. Her family has leased a temporary home in Mayfair for the Season. She’s only eighteen—just a silly, young girl.”

  Josephine had been pacing up and down the room, her head down, listening to his explanation. She whirled about.

  “Eighteen! My God, Win. What in the world is wrong with you?”

  He pulled a face. “If you had agreed to accompany me to The Pussy Cat Club, this wouldn’t have happened. You would have made certain I didn’t do anything foolish. I know I should have walked away when I won at poker, but I had a desire to play just one more hand. I also shouldn’t have cared about how Fiona made it back to her home.”

  “No, but instead you chose to take an eighteen-year-old debutante home. Did you go straight to her home?” She shook her head, thoroughly disgusted. “This isn’t the way you used to be. You were always so sensible. I can’t imagine what’s gotten into you. I don’t know how I’m supposed to cope with this. Look what a mess our lives have become. We’re in a terrible amount of trouble financially. I have a strong suspicion you’re involved with a girl young enough to be your daughter while I spend night after night alone. Andy scarcely knows you any more—this is a bloody nightmare!”

  “Darling, please calm down. You’re letting your imagination run away with you,” Win pleaded. “Not to mention the fact that you are always telling me not to curse, and I believe you just said ‘bloody.’”

  “I’ll calm down when all of this is sorted out. To begin with, yes, I am going to accompany you to The Pussy Cat Club tonight.”

  His face blanched. He obviously had never dreamed she would agree to go. “Oh, darling, I’m really not at all certain you would enjoy it very much. It’s primarily a men’s club, you know.”

  “Really, Win. From what I heard from Barbara Stanley, there are quite a few flapper-type women emerging from the club night after night.”

  “There are undoubtedly some. There always are. I’m just not sure you’d enjoy their sort.”

  “Let me be the judge of that. In the meantime, you can devote your time to trying to figure a solution to the god-awful nightmare we’re in financially.”

  “Why don’t we ask your Uncle Roderick for some help? You know he has thousands of acres of land. He could solve our difficulties in a heartbeat.”

  “I cannot believe you would even suggest such a thing. This is not Uncle Roderick’s problem. I have the solution. We’re going to sell the London townhouse. If necessary, we’ll also sell the cottage you built for me to live in while you were away at war.”

  “I refuse to consider doing either of those things,” Win answered. “We aren’t destitute. There has to be a better way to settle the debts.”

  “Well, tell me what it is then,” Josephine demanded in a sarcastic voice.

  “I need some time to think. I’m not the only chap who’s found himself in this sort of dilemma.”

  “Well, you can keep thinking of a solution while I’m enjoying a night out at The Pussy Cat Club,” Josephine snapped back.

  Win slumped down on the sofa. “Oh, Josephine. I’m sorry. I know what I did was
ridiculous. I need your help, darling. I’m not certain it’s a good idea for you to accompany me to the club.”

  “I’m going with you. I don’t want to hear any more of your foolish arguments. You had the cheek to place the blame on me for your ridiculous loss of money, and I intend to show you that I have nothing to do with the mess you’ve created. I’m completely undone by this news. I bailed us out after the war, when the economy hit rock bottom. My inheritance is gone. What in the world were you thinking

  “Josephine, I didn’t mean what I said. I’m totally aware that I made a dreadful mistake in judgment. You know I’ve never been this sort of person. I can’t explain why I’ve been acting like such a fool. All I can promise is that I intend to stop.”

  “We’ll start by accompanying me to this den of iniquity where you’ve been spending far too many nights. I think it’s high time I got a look at it for myself.”

  A shadow of fear came over Win’s face. “Do you promise you’ll not become angry with me if there are people present who appear to know me well?”

  “Yes, Win. I promise. However, I’m a bit confused. If all you’ve been doing is playing cards with other chaps, I don’t know why you seem overly concerned that I might be upset at friends who recognise you. Are you implying that these friends are women?”

  “Well, of course I’ve met some women who hang about the club. The place is very congenial.”

  “Have you been enjoying yourself with some of these Bright Young Things, as the London Times describes them?”

  “What if I have? I can assure you I’ve done nothing untoward. Perhaps I’ve bought a drink or two or had a dance.”

  “I suppose I’ll be given an opportunity to meet these new friends,” she retorted. “Now, let me pack a few items. I assume we’ll be staying at the Mayfair house?”

  He looked as though he’d been placed into a trap and wondered how he got there. “Yes, of course, we’ll go to Curzon Street. Unless, of course, you’d rather spend the night at Claridges or the Savoy?”

  “That seems rather silly.” Josephine smiled. “When we own a house in Mayfair, why spend money on a posh hotel?”

  “Yes, you’re right. We’ll dine here, and then drive back to London after we eat.”

  She began to walk toward the stairway then turned and faced him. “No. We’ll dine in London. I want to be on our way. I’m going to pack an overnight case. David will drive us, I assume? Will he stay in the rooms over the garages in Mayfair?”

  “Yes. That’s the usual arrangement.” Win looked uncomfortable.

  She was as angry and as disappointed in Win as she’d ever dreamed possible. As she ascended the staircase, Win turned and left the drawing room, heading in the direction of the library.

  * * *

  Win heard his wife descend the staircase less than a half hour later. Then the door opened. David Carlisle must have taken her bag and stowed it in the boot of the auto. He did not hear Andy’s footsteps, so he must have been in his own room. Win picked himself up from the armchair by the fireplace. He put his face in his hands, and tried to stifle tears he knew were about to begin.

  He had not been completely honest with his wife. The truth wasn’t devastating, but he wasn’t certain she’d believe him. Perhaps he’d be fortunate and she wouldn’t learn of his stupidity. Hopefully, Fiona Porter wouldn’t be at The Pussy Cat Club tonight. The silly girl never knew when to keep her mouth shut.

  What had begun as grief and anxiety was turning to anger. There were scores of married men at the Pussy Cat every night. His presence was no different than the others. Since when did Josephine think she was going to organise his social-life for him?

  He strode across the drawing room and took the stairs two at a time. When he reached Andy’s room, he stopped outside of the door and listened. No sound came from within. Slowly, he turned the doorknob. His son was sleeping soundly with his arm tucked about his little terrier, Twist. The nanny was also asleep in the adjoining bed chamber. Now that Andy had turned ten and would be attending school at the Winfield Academy the following autumn, the nanny would be leaving. She’d already lined up another position.

  Yes. Fine. He’d have David run them up to London. He continued on to his own bed chamber and changed his clothing to a dinner jacket ensemble. He slid a couple of clean shirts and trousers into an overnight valise. By the time he’d finished, he heard the Rolls engine roaring outside the entrance to the manor. Win zipped the bag shut and scurried down the steps. As David entered the front doorway, he told the driver of their plans. “Wait just a moment, David. I want to tell Mrs. Shellady where Josephine and I have gone so she will know how to reach us, if need be.”

  “Right, milord,” answered David.

  Win found her in the kitchen, sitting at the long table that served as the dining area for the staff’s meal. She was sipping a cup of tea with Mrs. Boyle, the head cook who had replaced Mrs. Whitaker. Mrs. Vera Whitaker had been with the family for decades but was suffering from dementia. She’d been kept on at the manor as a loyal retainer, with her own suite of rooms.

  “Both Lady Josephine and I are going to be out this evening. We’ll be staying at the house in Mayfair. If you need either of us, you know where we can be reached,” Win added.

  “Yes, milord,” answered the housekeeper. “But aren’t you going to eat your evening meal?”

  “No. We’ll dine in London.”

  “All right, milord. Don’t worry about anything here. I’ll keep a close eye on Andy.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Shellady,” Win replied. “We’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”

  Win met up with David in the great hall. “Got Lady Josephine settled, have you?” Win asked.

  “Quite, sir,” his long-time driver answered. “Sir, I’m ready whenever you are.”

  “Right. Well, I hate to inform you that we want you to drive back to London now.”

  The two men left the house, and while David slid behind the steering mechanism, Win settled next to his wife on the soft, leather seat in the back of the Rolls. “The Pussy Cat Club then,” he instructed David.

  Josephine did not look pleased.

  Chapter Five

  Josephine and Win arrived at The Pussy Cat Club a bit after nine o’clock in the evening. The place was already filled with a truly amazing conglomeration of clientele. Josephine was stunned. There were, indeed, many gentlemen, but she would have estimated she saw an equal number of females. However, they were attired like no women she had ever known. “I find it difficult to believe that these are women who are accepted in polite society,” she whispered to Win.

  “Oh, sweetheart, it’s just the way the younger generation present themselves. Look, even you have resorted to bobbing your hair in order to make yourself appear more modern. Generations change.”

  “The problem is that we are not of their generation. We do not belong with this crowd.”

  “Well, we’re here now, so let’s have a cocktail and relax,” he answered in a rather exasperated tone.

  The room was designed in the style of a gentleman’s library, with hunting prints on the walls and bookcases overflowing with classics. There were a few tables and a good-sized dance floor, but also comfy sofas scattered about.

  “I would really prefer to sit on a sofa, if you’re in agreement.” Josephine looked around the room.

  “Oh, but darling, wouldn’t you like to join a few others? It’s so much more congenial to sit at a table and converse with new friends.”

  “I don’t mean to be critical, but I truly don’t see anyone I want to meet or chat with.”

  Before they had a chance to continue the conversation, a young lady with flaming red hair, dressed in a green silk dress fringed at the bottom and cut above her knees, came rushing over to Win.

  “Win, you wonderful man! How marvellous to see you here again tonight,” she gushed. She couldn’t have reached the age of twenty yet.

  Josephine was appalled.

  “Hello, Fiona.�
�� Win looked chagrined. His hopes that Fiona wouldn’t be present were dashed. He turned to his wife. “Fiona, may I present my wife, the Countess of Winthrop, Lady Josephine,” he stated.

  “How lovely to meet you, Countess.” The young lady dipped into a curtsy.

  Josephine extended her gloved hand, but Fiona ignored it. She was obviously too enamoured with Win, trying to persuade him to join the table she was sharing with several other debutantes and their escorts. It was clear to Josephine that her own wishes were to be overridden, when Win smiled broadly and agreed to Fiona’s invitation.

  The three made their way to a round table, almost directly in the middle of the room. Josephine hadn’t the slightest desire to be the center of attention, and glanced longingly back at the quiet sofa she’d been eyeing before Fiona’s interruption.

  When they arrived at the table, both she and Win were introduced to the others. All the ladies were dressed similar to Fiona. There was an enormous fuss made about Win. Almost as an afterthought, Josephine was introduced to the others. Then, after placing a drink order, she was ignored.

  Josephine could think of nothing whatsoever to converse with them about anyway. All were nearly an entire generation behind her and her husband, and there was nothing she could possibly imagine having in common with them. When the band began to play a tune that Josephine had never heard and didn’t particularly care for, Fiona leaned over and asked whether she minded if Win danced with her. There was little she could do, but tell the young lady that it would be fine.

  To her amazement, Win took to the floor and did the Charleston, which utterly amazed Josephine. She had no idea her husband was so proficient in modern dance.

  Drinks continued to be served, and by the end of the evening, the majority of the guests were not sober. Josephine had never been fond of alcohol and had consumed only two glasses of white wine. The others were drinking exotic drinks she’d never heard of with names like Manhattans, Black Russians, Dirty Martinis, and Orange Blossoms.