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

by Mary Christian Payne

  Finally, it was time to depart, and it could not have come a moment too quickly for Josephine. Fiona was tagging along behind her, obviously having drunk far too many of the odd drinks. She even planted a kiss on Win’s cheek, begging him to stay longer, but to his credit, he did refuse.

  Then, just as they were about to exit the club, Fiona looked at Josephine. “Oh, Lady Winthrop, I forgot to thank you for allowing Win to lend me your beautiful—”

  Win quickly interrupted. “Yes, Fiona. Josephine was happy to do so. We must be going now.”

  Josephine looked puzzled. What was the little fool referring to? Josephine had never met her before, so how could she possibly have loaned her anything? Perhaps she was speaking of the night Win had asked David to drive to her home. Was she thanking Josephine for lending her the Rolls Royce? This was one more thing she needed to speak to Win about.

  They made their way to the automobile, where David was waiting patiently. She was tired, had the beginnings of a headache, and simply wanted to put her head on a pillow.

  Win seemed a bit out of sorts, undoubtedly because she had not been particularly friendly, never joining in the revelry. They spoke little on the drive to the townhouse in Mayfair. Upon arrival, he took out the key, opened the door, and escorted her into the pleasant home. They did have a maid on the premises, but Win had not expected her to stay up into the wee hours simply to open the door.

  Josephine immediately headed for the master bedroom. They had a local lady come to clean the home once a week, so everything was neat as a pin and smelled like beeswax. She set her valise down inside the bedroom, went to the bath area and poured herself a glass of cold water, bringing it to the side table by the bed. She quickly undressed, hanging the stunning pink gown in the cupboard. Then she opened a drawer in the dresser and plucked out a lovely, white Queen Anne’s Lace cotton nightgown and maneuvered it over her head. She drew back the white duvet cover on the bed, exposing the lovely, crisp sheets.

  Something pink slid from beneath them. Her heart felt as though it skipped a beat. She stared at the bed, stunned. A pair of pink, women’s knickers had attached themselves to the underside of the sheets. They were definitely not hers. They were the sort of undergarment that a younger woman would wear. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She couldn’t catch her breath. It was absolutely clear that Win had brought another woman into their bed. The site of the pink underwear changed everything. How could he? He had been lying about everything he’d said only a few hours ago.

  Well, not everything. She believed his recitation of the trouble he was in due to his obsession with poker. However, the tale he’d told about Fiona had been total fabrication. Josephine would have bet her last pound that the feminine undergarment on her bed belonged to the same lady she had met earlier whom he’d supposedly driven home. She had a rather awful feeling that the two had driven to the townhouse and spent the night making passionate love in the bed that only she and Win had ever occupied.

  Crying hysterically, she ran to the hallway just as Win was climbing the last step to the bedroom floor.

  “Win, how could you? I cannot believe you would betray me like this. I’m just all undone. I have to get out of here. I refuse to spend a night with a scoundrel. Was it Fiona?”

  “What in the world are you speaking about?” Win looked genuinely puzzled.

  “Win, when I pulled back the sheets, ready to crawl into bed, a pair of pink, woman’s knickers were laying there. Now, don’t try to deny that there wasn’t a woman in that bed.”

  She turned and ran down the stairs to the front doorway.

  Win followed. “No, Josephine, you have it all wrong. At least give me time to explain.”

  “There is nothing to explain. You have clearly betrayed me with another woman. Most probably that dreadful Fiona. There is nothing you can say to convince me differently. I never want to see you again. I shall see a solicitor tomorrow and file for a decree of divorce on the grounds of adultery.”

  She opened the front door and ran outside. Half-crazed with anger and grief, she paid no attention to where she was going. She ran straight onto Curzon Street.

  Win followed, greatly upset as well. They were standing in the middle of the street when a car, driving at a higher-than-usual rate of speed, hit them square on. Both were thrown into the air and landed on the street with a sickening thud.

  A lady who lived in a townhouse on the other side of Curzon Street heard the noise. She pulled her draperies and was astonished to observe the scene. It was wretched. She threw on robe and slippers, stopped at the telephone in the foyer and rang for an ambulance. She then proceeded to see if she could render any assistance. When she reached them, the gentleman appeared to be dead. He was dressed in evening wear. She felt for a pulse, but could find none.

  She turned her attention to the lady, who was wearing a lovely white nightdress. The woman was moaning and tears were streaming down her face. Blood was everywhere. It was clear that she was severely injured, but if the ambulance arrived quickly enough, perhaps with medical attention, she would survive. The woman held Josephine’s hand, smoothing her hair back and murmured encouraging words. At long last, she heard sirens in the distance.

  The vehicle pulled up and parked near the curb. Two men in white uniforms rushed to Josephine and Win. Each man concerned himself with one of the pair, but Win was beyond help. Thus, the man moved on to Josephine, assisting his partner in making a cursory examination. She was clearly in terrible pain, and one of the attendants administered an injection of morphine. They suspected she could have internal bleeding in addition to the blood pouring from a terrible gash on her thigh and an arm that could well be broken.

  With great care, Josephine was lifted onto a gurney and placed into the ambulance. One of the men returned to Win’s body and searched his pockets. There he found a wallet with an identification card. The heavy vellum card showed that he held the title, Earl of Winthrop, and that his primary address was Winthrop Manor in Hampshire. A telephone number was also printed at the bottom. One of the attendants radioed for a second vehicle in which Win’s body would be transported to the London morgue. Both attendants jumped behind the wheel, turned the siren on again and headed for St Bartholomew’s Hospital.

  When a call was placed to Winthrop Manor, it was Mrs. Shellady who answered. She could not imagine who would be ringing at such an ungodly hour. When she received the news, she was overcome with grief, but as any proper English servant would do, she held her chin high, wiped her eyes on her sleeve, and proceeded to place a call to Win’s sister, Elisabeth Drew.

  Elisabeth was devastated. She and Tom rushed to London to be at Josephine’s bedside. When they arrived, she was in surgery. They waited for what seemed hours, and finally the physician who’d performed surgery approached them in the waiting area.

  “Oh, doctor,” cried Elisabeth. “What is Josephine’s condition?”

  “She should recover without any lasting effects,” he answered with a smile. “She has a broken arm, but to my great relief, she has no internal injuries, which is extremely fortunate. She has also suffered a concussion, but it’s mild and I expect no after effects. There will be a scar on her upper leg, but I believe it can be taken care of with good reconstructive surgery if need be. She is still in the recovery area, but you will be able to see her within an hour, or so. All in all, she came through such a dastardly accident in quite decent shape. It’s terrible that she apparently lost her husband in the same incident. She will have to be told, of course, but I would wait a few days to make certain she’s ready for such shocking news.”

  Elisabeth and Tom nodded their heads in agreement. With that, the physician left the waiting area. The couple continued to sit, in anticipation of permission to see Josephine. Finally, they were advised to follow a nurse. When they entered the hospital room, they could see that Josephine’s left arm was in a plaster cast and her leg had a bandage covering it. She still seemed somewhat drowsy as a result of the anesthesia
that had been administered. Both Tom and Elisabeth leaned down and kissed her, saying how extremely happy they were that she was going to be all right. Josephine smiled feebly, taking Elisabeth’s hand into her own. Slurring her words, a bit, she enquired about her husband’s condition.

  “Josephine, let’s talk about Win when you’re feeling a little better.” Elisabeth’s eyes were still red and swollen from tears she’d shed over the loss of her beloved brother.

  “No, Elisabeth. I need to know now or I won’t be able to rest. Please, tell me how Win is,” she implored.

  Elisabeth looked to her husband, not knowing quite how to proceed. He was, after all, a physician himself, albeit a country doctor.

  Tom nodded his head affirmatively.

  “Oh, my dear,” Elisabeth began. “It seems that tragedy follows you throughout life. It shatters me to have to tell you that Win lost his life in this terrible mishap.”

  Josephine buried her head in the pillow and sobbed. “Oh my God! This is my fault. I’ve literally caused my husband’s death. I accused him of cheating on me. Neither of us would have been in the center of that street if I hadn’t run from Win, making vile accusations.”

  “Whatever are you talking about?” asked Elisabeth.

  Josephine managed to relate the story of what had occurred in the townhouse.

  Elisabeth was stunned. “Oh, surely you were wrong, Josephine. I cannot believe that Win would ever have betrayed you. He loved you so dearly. However, please darling, don’t blame yourself,” she added. “We’ll discuss this more when you’ve rested.”

  “Yes, but I must plan funeral services for Win. I refuse to allow anyone else to take over a task that should be mine.”

  “We understand, dearest,” Elisabeth answered. “However, right now, you need rest. You’ve had a terrible shock. Try to rest, and we’ll discuss this further tomorrow.”

  “Where is Win now?” she asked.

  “At the London morgue,” her sister-in-law replied. “They require an autopsy in a situation like this. Therefore, it will be several days before any sort of service can be arranged.”

  Four days later, Josephine was discharged from hospital and David collected her, driving her to Winthrop Manor. Upon arrival, all of the staff came rushing out of the mansion, eager to see their mistress and to shower her with affection and love. Of course, the first to place their arms about her was Andrew, her dear son, who was now the Earl of Winthrop. “Oh, Mummy,” he sobbed. “Is it true? Is Daddy dead?”

  “Yes, darling,” she replied. “I shall need you more than ever, Andy. However, I don’t wish for this to alter your plans to attend school in the autumn. Your father would be most disappointed if you didn’t carry through on the arrangement he and I made for your future. Your education is now more important than ever, for you will assume the duties of the earl once you reach the age of majority. Come, Andy. Let’s go into the house. I know this has been a terrible shock, but we all must keep a stiff upper lip. I do understand how you feel. I lost both of my parents at about the same age. I know I can never replace your father, but I shall make every effort to be the best mother a young man could have.”

  “You always have been,” he cried. “I’ll do whatever you ask of me. But I wish I could stay here to watch over you. I am now the man of the house.”

  “Yes, dear. Nevertheless, I am still your guardian until you turn twenty-one. You must trust that I know what is best.”

  “Yes, I shall,” he answered, his expression sorrowful.

  Josephine made an attempt to smile. “Good. Now, the first order of business will be to make plans for your father’s burial.”

  Andy looked devastated, but didn’t cry. “Where will that be?” he asked.

  “We shall have services in the Winthrop Manor chapel, of course, and then he will be laid to rest in the family mausoleum outside of the chapel in the cemetery. He will lie next to his mother and father, as you and I will someday. We’ll all be reunited in heaven.” She valiantly smiled.

  “That’s a nice thought.” Andy continued to look downward, holding his emotions tightly locked inside of his ten-year-old body.

  Chapter Six

  Josephine—her arm still in plaster with a smaller dressing on her leg—her lovely chestnut hair stunning it its newly cut bob, appeared at Win’s service looking serene, though mournful. It was important to her that she present herself as a composed countess, since in her heart it would be her last gift to the man she had adored. Regardless of what he might have done to break their marriage vows, she refused to hold on to anger. She forgave him any transgressions, placing the blame for any such action upon his frightful experiences during the Great War.

  She had been paid a call by a gentleman named Nigel French, who was a frequent visitor to The Pussy Cat Club and had many times played that wretched poker with Win. When he first introduced himself, she thought he was an odious man, wanting to collect on Win’s large gambling debts before his body was even interred.

  However, Mr. French had paid the call to inform her that all of the men Win had been involved with in poker games had joined together and signed a petition stating that the debts were forgiven. It was an enormous relief to Josephine, and she thanked Mr. French profusely. She still planned to put the Mayfair townhouse on the market, but the economy was such that she had scant hope of selling it for its true worth. Still, the house was in a prime location and had been kept in pristine condition, so she did expect a better-than-average price.

  When the service began, Josephine was escorted to her seat in a front pew by Joseph Haworth, the vicar of St. Luke’s Church in Winthrop-on-Hart, who always performed any services that took place in the chapel at Winthrop Manor. She held Andrew’s hand in hers, tremendously proud of her handsome young boy who greatly resembled his deceased father. The two sat next to one another, gazing at the casket, which sat at the front of the chapel, covered in a blanket of red roses. Along with Josephine and Andrew, Elisabeth and Tom were seated beside her. Uncle Roderick held her other hand. This was all of the family Win had left, since his brother Oliver was still in prison. Josephine requested that the Winthrop Manor staff be seated in the row directly behind the family, since most had been extremely close to him.

  It was an exemplary service. The opening hymn was “Jerusalem,” and there wasn’t a dry eye in the quaint, old place of worship when the last verse was sung. Following that, there were readings from the Bible by people who had been especially close to Win through the years, including David Carlisle, his chauffeur; Radcliffe, the family butler; and Mrs. Shellady, the housekeeper.

  In a somewhat unusual break with tradition, Josephine herself stood and made her way to the podium to give the eulogy. She spoke of meeting Win and went on to recount their great love. No mention was made of the night he’d lost his life.

  While standing at the front of the chapel speaking, Josephine looked across the crowd congregated to pay their respects to her husband. She was dumbfounded to see Fiona, the young lady from The Pussy Cat Club, sitting in a pew quite close to the front. It was a tremendously unseemly thing for her to show up on such a day, but Josephine brushed it aside for the moment, making a mental note to speak to the girl after the service had ended. She concluded by saying that, while it was not always an easy task for her to speak in public, she felt the eulogy was to be her last gift to Win.

  The entire congregation then took communion at the altar, which is the Church of England way. The hymn, “Amazing Grace,” ended the service. Josephine broke down, sobbing. Andrew stood beside her, again telling her that he would always be with her to see that she was loved and cared for.

  Following the internment, the many attendees made their way to Winthrop Manor for a lovely funeral luncheon. She kept the vow she’d made to herself, and as she entered the house, she spotted Fiona sipping a glass of wine while carrying a plate of food to a sofa in the drawing room. Josephine walked straight toward her. The girl was dressed appropriately in a smart, black s
uit with a small hat perched upon her head.

  “I don’t mean to be rude,” Josephine began, “but what on Earth made you think you would be welcomed here today?”

  Fiona stood, executing a curtsy, as though Josephine were royalty. “I simply wanted to pay my respects to a fine gentleman who treated me kindly,” she replied.

  “Yes, I believe I have evidence of the kindness he showed you,” Josephine said.

  “Whatever do you mean?” Fiona asked.

  “A pair of pink knickers were discovered in the bed that Win and I always share when at the townhouse in London. I am certain they must belong to you.”

  The young lady turned scarlet. “Oh, no, Lady Josephine, you mustn’t let such a thought enter your head,” she cried. “Yes, they do belong to me, but they didn’t end up in the bed in the manner you must be thinking. Your husband kindly drove me to his home one evening when I’d consumed far too much alcohol. He was going to take me to my own flat, but I was much too drunk to give him directions. He settled me in his bed, and he slept in another room. I don’t ever sleep in my knickers. He gave me a lovely nightdress of yours to wear. In fact, I tried to thank you for that gown when you and Win were leaving The Pussy Cat Club the night he died. I was awfully sick that night when we reached the townhouse in Mayfair. He took me upstairs and showed me the bedroom. Honestly, I couldn't have negotiated the stairway without his assistance. I remember slipping out of my knickers after I was under the covers. Nothing happened, Lady Josephine. Nothing. I was most grateful for his help. I could very easily have been accosted by any number of ruffians, since I was in such a despicable state. The next morning, he gave me a stern lecture on the dangers of drinking at such a young age and drove me to the nearest tube station. I went home with no knickers, because I didn’t know what had become of them. Later that day, I remembered kicking them off in the bed. I was too ashamed to ring him and ask for their return. Anyway, I thought a maid would find them when changing the sheets and probably dispose of them.”