by Mary Wood
Father paced up and down the upstairs sitting room, a room all the family loved because of the peace it afforded; somehow it felt detached from the hustle and bustle of the downstairs rooms, which always felt unsettled as the servants went about their business and visitors frequented them.
A large room positioned at the back of the house, the upstairs sitting room overlooked the park. It had many windows, which displayed spectacular views and could make you forget that the house was in London.
Furnished in the French style, with heavy furniture and a large collection of paintings on the walls, the soft decor of blush-pink and ruby velvet provided a lush, yet restful feel.
Eloise looked over at her mama, sitting quietly on one of the three sofas in the room, and felt at a loss. Mama had her head down and didn’t look as though she was going to be the champion of Eloise’s cause that Eloise had hoped she would be.
So far Father had been very accommodating about her idea and had helped her as much as he could in raising funds and sending out a letter of appeal to all of his contacts. But now, faced with the reality of how much involvement she personally wanted to give to the project, his objections were making her worry that he would halt her plans from progressing any further. ‘No. Eloise, it is a ridiculous idea! I can’t have you going up to the North of England with just Dorothy to chaperone you!’
‘I have to, Daddy, otherwise all my efforts will have been for nothing.’
‘Look, my dear, I do admire the way you have planned this charity, and think that dedicating it to Andrina’s memory is a fitting tribute to her and is helping us all, by having something positive come out of the dreadful tragedy of her loss. Plus, the money you have raised is very commendable in such a short time. Your hastily arranged garden party was a huge success, and our friends have been most generous in their donations. It has been good to see you so occupied, but—’
‘Daddy, please! I will be safe. Dorothy will look after me, and we will be with Rene in the cottage her parents have rented for her. She has a maid with her, too. So we are not on our own. If this is to work, I can’t just be a figurehead who raises the money. I have to see it through. I have to be seen to be supervising the projects the charity takes on. Then everyone will feel safe, and happy to donate towards it.’
‘Look, this idea is only three weeks in the making. Carry on raising money, by all means, but wait a while before you take on any projects. This one in particular may harm your efforts. Funding a murderer, to secure a lawyer to get him off – it will damage your credibility and mine, too.’
‘But he’s innocent, Daddy.’
‘So you believe, but what if he isn’t?’
‘He still has a right to be represented, as he would be if he was a rich person.’
‘Yes, but is he really the best person to be focusing your efforts on? Your money has been given to you in the good faith that it will be helping victims of the war.’
Eloise remained quiet for a moment. Then a solution occurred to her. ‘Very well, Father, I take your point. But I still need to go up to Leeds and then to Low Moor, to see Ada. She is someone who has lost everything: her three sons to the war, her home to an explosion, which was due to the war. Of course very few know about that, because of the reporting restrictions necessary to safeguard the location of the munitions factory. Nevertheless, it happened, and the devastation it has wrought is something that I can address from our funds. As for the man accused of murder, I will personally pay for a lawyer for him, from the money Granny left me. I believe strongly in his innocence, as related to me by Rene. I can’t stand by and let him go to the gallows for something he didn’t do.’
‘Eloise, Eloise, where has all this come from? I want my silly, empty-headed little girl back. My two silly—’
‘Oh, Daddy, don’t. Don’t!’
Hurrying to her father’s side, as did her mama, who had remained quiet throughout the debate, Eloise felt tears begin to tumble from her and asked herself, Am I doing something wrong? Is this new ‘me’ too much for my parents to take, so soon after their loss? One daughter gone forever and the other changed beyond recognition?
Her mama’s voice cut into her thoughts, as she spoke to her husband. ‘Mon cher, don’t. I know all of this is having an effect on you. It is on me, too. But we need to be strong for Eloise. To admire her, and to support her. She is not wallowing in her grief, but turning it into strength and a desire to help others. I, for one, am standing by her and will support her all I can.’
‘Thank you, dearest Mama, thank you.’
Her father blew his nose loudly, signalling his resignation. ‘Go with my blessing, my darling. But you are not going on the train. I will buy you a car and find you a trusted chauffeur. That will give me some peace of mind. A male accompanying you will give you added protection. And, I will fund the lawyer . . .’
‘Oh, Daddy, thank you.’
‘No, wait while I tell you my conditions. I will need satisfying that the man is innocent. To do that, I need to have the full story. Then I will engage one of the best lawyers I know, to talk to the accused, and to the dead man’s wife; and to anyone who had a part as a witness, or who has an opinion because they were on the scene soon afterwards; and to those who could be character witnesses. If, after all that, my man is of the mind that the accused is innocent, then I will go ahead with the funding.’
‘They are good conditions, Daddy, and I agree to them. But everything must happen with haste. I want to go within the week, and the wheels of justice are already in motion. We have to act quickly to make sure they turn in the right direction.’
Her father shook his head. ‘My little Eloise, you have grown into a wonderful woman and I am proud of you.’
No words could have been more musical to her ears; for her father to be proud of her made everything worthwhile. Going into his arms, and having those of her mama encircle them both, created another poignant moment for them all, but one that spoke of hope for their future and of their ability to go forward, with just the memory of Andrina to sustain them.
As Eloise broke away and left her parents to continue to console one another, the sudden weight of what she had taken on hit her. Was she up to it? Could she – a spoilt young rich woman – make a difference? Well, she would soon find out, but nothing would stop her from trying. She had just broken down the last threads of resistance from those who had the power to prevent her from continuing. For her now to have their backing meant that the world was waiting for her – she hoped it was ready, because she certainly was.
14
Edith
France, mid-October 1916
A discovery keeps Edith lost to all
Edith had spent much of the past nine weeks living in a strange and unfamiliar world. A world that held pain and a half-life, where she functioned, but didn’t care about anything or anyone. A world where nightmare images visited her and made her want to hide away behind the comfort of a veil, which she brought down to blot out everything whenever she chose.
The sheer guts of Petra and Aleksi had brought her through the pneumonia that she’d almost succumbed to. They had, they told her, nursed her around the clock until the crisis had passed, washing her and her soiled linen; feeding her with drips of food that they had whisked and whisked until it became fluid; and talking to her, in an effort to encourage her to live, for her loved ones.
Her recovery had been hindered by this foggy place that had enclosed her, which she knew was due to her mind blocking out what it couldn’t cope with. But in the moments when she could think and allowed herself to talk and ask questions, Petra and Aleksi had avoided answering anything about the night they had found her. Until now this had suited her. But now she had an urge to contact her family. She wanted them to know she was safe. She needed to be with them, and she needed the Red Cross to fetch her and help her to recover completely, so that she could go home and eventually get back to her job. That is, if I am wrong about being pregnant . . . No. I cannot even t
hink about it. And I won’t!
Wandering around the farmhouse felt familiar. She must have done this many times over the last few weeks, without registering that she had.
Neat and clean, the kitchen smelt of baking and gave off a shabby but homely appearance. Sofas that had seen better days had been patched here and there, but were of the rounded style with soft feather cushions that always welcomed and comforted. There was other furniture, too – a table and chairs, and a huge sideboard made of heavy pine. The table had a scrubbed look that rendered its top paler than its matching chairs. Well-beaten rugs were scattered over the polished flagstone floor; and a huge range, taking up almost one wall, with shining pans hanging around it, dominated one end of this large, and only, downstairs room.
She knew the routine of the place, too. She knew that Petra helped Aleksi outside for most of the morning, fitting in her housewife chores around feeding the hens, collecting the eggs and milking the two cows they had, whilst Aleksi worked the fields and saw to the other livestock, the pigs and sheep. Their days were long and hard. How they had found the time and energy to look after her she wasn’t sure.
Seeing Petra coming across the yard, Edith determined to tackle her about everything. It wasn’t right just to bury Albert. The police should have been called. And her family should have been contacted, and she should have been taken home. Nervous and feeling queasy at the thought of what she might learn, she sat down at the table. From there she would be facing Petra as soon as she entered.
Petra’s face looked fearful when Edith asked why the authorities hadn’t been called. With a voice that shook and held obvious terror, Petra answered, ‘I – I . . . We could not. The truth is that we don’t own this farm. We are illegal immigrants. It’s true that we came here fearing for the future of our own country. We travelled with our daughter over many kilometres with a horse and cart, living like gypsies. Though we had money, and could pay for what we needed, we feared everyone. We were afraid to call the police when Aleksi found you. They are looking at foreign nationals with much more scrutiny than they have ever done before.’
‘But you live openly, and you sell your produce, so how do you keep yourself unknown?’
‘This is a very remote place. We rarely come into contact with anyone, and to those we do see, we have passed ourselves off as the cousins of the man who owned this farm. The owner was dying and almost penniless when we came across it. We knocked on his door and asked for water, and whether we could buy some vegetables and maybe a chicken. Not that he had much, for the farm was neglected. He took us in, saying he needed help. We invested our time and our savings in the farm and looked after him. He was of Polish descent, so folk who did know him accepted our story that he had sent for us. He had no family, as far as we knew. Aleksi travels a long way to market, much further than he needs to, but it is safer, as no one questions him there or knows where he comes from.’
Petra’s head drooped with the weight of confessing this. A moment’s anger visited Edith, as she thought the decision they had taken greatly affected her and her future. But then, these people had saved her life. If she gave them away, they might be in danger of being jailed for living here without registering, and for disposing of a body in an improper way. She made up her mind that she couldn’t do that to them.
‘I must contact my parents and let them know that I’m alive and well. But please don’t worry. I won’t expose you, as you have been so kind to me. I – I won’t like lying, but I’ll say that Alb – Corporal Price – abandoned me here when I became sick.’
She didn’t know how she was going to carry this off, but somehow she felt she had to. It wasn’t as if she would be hurting anyone. Albert had told her he had no family that he knew of, as he’d been brought up in an orphanage, so there was no one who would suffer the agony of not knowing whether he was dead or alive. Otherwise, she would never even have considered doing this.
‘What happened to the people who owned the farm where you found me?’
‘They were German. They were legal residents, as far as I know, but upped and left once war was declared. It’s a shame, as they were nice folk. They helped us a lot and we felt bad about deceiving them. And I feel bad about the position you are in, because of us, and the hurt we have caused your loved ones. But please believe me: we had no choice.’
Suddenly Edith wanted to take this woman in her arms and thank her, and stop her feeling guilty. She rose to do so, but a feeling of nausea took her and she had to hurry past Petra to the outside privy.
‘What is wrong? Oh, ma chérie, are you falling sick again?’
Edith retched again. As she did so, Petra stroked her back. It was a soothing gesture, but one that didn’t give comfort. What she feared was beginning to seem like a reality. She was pregnant; there was no other explanation. The dread of it had lain in her since her first conscious memory of what had passed between her and Albert: the sometimes awful recollection of him raping her, but then the wonder of how that had turned into an act of love, before the extreme horror of what he did afterwards.
The signs had all been showing themselves to her. She was conscious of having missed a period, perhaps two – she didn’t know, and she dare not ask if she had menstruated during the time she had left her life in Petra’s hands. Oh God, if it proves to be right, what will happen? I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t even contact my dear mother and father, for they would be so ashamed of me!
Straightening up, she wiped her mouth on the cloth Petra handed her and gratefully took the glass of water she had fetched. After sipping a little and feeling less queasy, it shook her to hear Petra say, ‘You are having a child, yes?’
Defeated, Edith said, ‘Yes, I think so.’ With that admission, a weakness took her. How soon her new-found strength had disappeared. A tear fell down her cheek.
‘No, ma chérie, this is not to cry over. You loved the father, yes?’
‘I did. We were miles apart in our standing, but war threw us together and yet—’
‘Standing? What is this standing? Are you talking of a class system, because you are rich and he was poor? I know he was so, because if he had not been, Aleksi said he would have been an officer. I assume you are rich, by how you speak. Poor children are not taught to speak French in your country, nor do they become doctors.’
‘You know I am a doctor, and about Albert and our lives?’
‘You told us many things, ma chérie.’’
‘Oh, Petra, what am I to do? I will bring disgrace on my family. The scandal would kill them!’
‘Have you no one you could go to?’
‘No – well, maybe. But no, I couldn’t. I – I . . . Look, it is complicated. I have a . . . a kind of aunt, she is my cousin’s aunt. She lives in the South of France, in Nice. But no, I can’t burden her. I couldn’t put her into the position of deceiving those she loves. Oh, I just don’t know what to do!’
‘Then do nothing – stay here. We’re glad to have you. It’s like having our daughter back.’
Edith didn’t know how to answer this. It was a kind offer and one she welcomed, but could she hide herself away here for the rest of the months she had to carry her child? And what of my parents, and my brothers and cousins – all the family? They must be worried out of their minds!
The choice was a difficult one and rendered her quiet for some minutes. Petra didn’t speak or try to persuade her. Edith’s mind went from thinking she would face it all and go home, to thinking: no, she would stay here, hidden away. In the end she decided it was better to remain missing than go home a shamed woman, bringing untold pain and embarrassment to her family, and maybe even being struck off the medical register.
If only she could receive news about how everyone was doing. Were her brothers safe? This was what worried her most, because, apart from missing her and worrying about her, she was sure her lovely cousins were fine. How could she ever have thought of them as silly? They were just being girls, and it was she who was the odd-bod. But
what of Mama and Daddy? Oh, dear God, I have no choice but to leave them in the no-man’s-land I have put them in. I have to save them from the shame. I have to. But then, what of the child when it is born?
As if this thought had conveyed itself to her, Petra said, ‘If you stay, you can go home as soon as the birth is over. I will take care of your child and bring it up for you. You can visit whenever you want to. No one need ever know.’
Unable to think of any other solution, and feeling herself going into a haze once more, Edith nodded. ‘Thank you, Petra, I will think about it. Oh dear, I’m tired. So very tired.’
‘I will help you, ma chérie, come on. Let us get you back to bed.’
Once in bed, the enormity of her problems hit Edith, and her heart ached just to be held by her mother and father, and to exchange silly conversations with Andrina and Eloise. Then to go on a holiday to Marianne’s, and even to go back to her post as a doctor in Abbeville.
Captain Mark Wooster came into her mind with this last thought, and she knew she had thought of him many times during her illness. Perhaps he would help? If she could somehow contact him, perhaps he would present a solution: help her to get rid of the child even . . . But no, that thought was repulsive to her. No doubt, if she wanted to, she could induce the baby herself; there were ways. Dangerous and illegal ways, but she knew, when the thought first entered her head, that it was something she could never do. Never! And just as surely as she knew that, she knew she already loved her baby. Rubbing a hand over her slightly rounded stomach, she said out loud, ‘I love you already, little one, and wouldn’t harm you. But I don’t know how I am going to take care of you, without causing pain to those who don’t deserve it. That is the question that is frightening me. But I will find a way. I will.’