‘Lusitania lost.’
Eleven
The great Cunard liner Lusitania was torpedoed by a German submarine off the south coast of Ireland yesterday afternoon and sunk. She was on a voyage from New York to Liverpool, and was with a few hours’ steaming of her home port.
From The Times, 8 May 1915
It was dreadful, not being able to do anything except wait for news. Shortly after I returned from the railway station, Mrs Hathaway called us all together in the chapel to explain what had happened, although nearly everyone knew by then. She said Colonel Vye was going to the Cunard offices (the company who owned the Lusitania) in London to see the latest list of survivors; he would telephone the Hall as soon as he had any information. The ship had gone down off the Irish coast, and survivors were being taken to the little port of Queenstown in Ireland. In the meantime, she thought it best for us and the patients if we carried on working as usual, to keep our minds and hands busy. Mr Fenton led us in a prayer for the safe deliverance of our master and mistress, and we filed out again.
Mrs Hathaway had told my father about me driving the Colonel to the station because it was an emergency (he couldn’t be angry with me, although I could tell he wasn’t very happy about the idea) so it looked as though I wouldn’t be getting into trouble for taking the motor-car after all. This was a stroke of luck, although it seemed wrong to have profited in any way from such a terrible event. I think we all felt guilty, to some extent: the ship had been torpedoed the previous afternoon and none of us had known. While I was taking off my boots and Florrie fretting about her trip to Hardingbridge, the Vyes might have been struggling for their lives in the sea or drowned several hours already. Of course there was nothing we could have done to help them, but it was uncomfortable to think about, all the same. The thing was, Colonel Vye and Mrs Hathaway had stayed up talking late into the night and asked for breakfast much later than usual on the Saturday. Mr Fenton had only had time to glance at the newspaper as he was taking it through to them at eleven.
After mid-day dinner, I went over to the kitchen to see if anyone was about and found my mother sitting with Mrs Jeakes at the big table. Ma looked upset, though she was trying to put a brave face on things. ‘There’s a good chance they’ll be all right,’ she was saying. ‘His Lordship will have made sure they got into the lifeboat, and they can both swim.’
‘So why haven’t we heard by now?’ Mrs Jeakes swirled the tea in her cup. ‘Why haven’t they wired, or telephoned? There must be a post office somewhere in Ireland.’
Ma caught sight of me and held up a warning hand; Mrs Jeakes was about to read the tea leaves. She turned the cup around three times with a great fanfare, clapped it upside down on the saucer, waited a few seconds, then lifted it up and peered in. ‘Oh, that’s not a good sign. Clouds everywhere, and a cross at the bottom. See this broken line?’ She held the cup out to my mother. ‘It means a journey with a sudden end.’
Not even Ma could think of a hopeful answer to that. I left them to it and went to look for Dora, whom I discovered closeted away with Bess, the still-room maid. There was nothing Bess liked better than an audience and Dora was perfect, being content to listen rather than talk. ‘They must have had a guardian angel looking after them,’ she was saying as I came in. Dora nodded sagely in agreement.
‘Who do you mean?’ I asked, my heart leaping with sudden hope. Could the Vyes have been found, and Bess with her sharp ears somehow the only one to have heard?
‘Mr Thompson and Miss Merchant, of course,’ she said (Lord Vye’s valet and Her Ladyship’s maid). ‘Didn’t you know? They were offered positions as butler and housekeeper for a rich American family, so they decided to get married and stay over there. Well, they’ll be thanking their lucky stars now. We won’t be seeing the Vyes again, I can feel it in my bones.’
That was more than enough gossip for me, so after I’d made Dora promise to come and tell me straight away if she picked up any real news from the servants’ hall, I went back to work for the rest of that endless day. I couldn’t get the thought of Lady Vye out of my mind. Selfish people were better at surviving; she’d help somebody else into the lifeboat rather than taking up a place herself. Somehow I wasn’t quite so worried about His Lordship - a fact I’d never have shared with Ma. Isn’t that dreadful? I’m ashamed to admit such a thing.
The afternoon dragged past. We were expecting Philip at three with one of the patients who wanted to go riding. One of the new batch of nurses came along too, a striking dark-haired girl with green eyes whom I hadn’t seen before. I wanted to tell Philip how sorry we all were about his aunt and uncle, but she didn’t give me a chance to speak, and almost elbowed me out of the way when I came to tighten Daffodil’s girth. ‘We can manage now. You might as well get on with your work.’
She and Philip went back to the house together and I returned to my chores in a thoroughly miserable mood. Dora came running in at tea-time and my heart turned over, but all she had to say was that the Colonel had decided to take a train up to Liverpool since there was so little information coming through to London. Every hour that went past made it seem less likely the Vyes were alive. It was impossible to imagine our world without them, or to contemplate Charles inheriting the title when he came of age. What sort of master would he make? Resting my head against Cobweb’s neck, I decided to try and stop thinking for a while.
It was late when Dora came to the stables a second time. Da and I were giving the horses their last feed and preparing to close up for the night. As soon as I saw her stricken face in the lamplight, I dropped the bucket and rushed over. ‘What is it? What’s happened? Tell me, quickly!’
The news would have been hard for anyone to bring, let alone Dora. She was pale and trembling, biting her lip so as not to cry. I tried to help. ‘They’ve found them?’
She nodded.
‘Alive or dead?’ There was no sense in beating about the bush.
But that Dora couldn’t say, although she tried her best. ‘L-L-Lady V-V-Vye - ’ she began several times, until I was ready to explode from the effort of not interrupting.
‘Is Her Ladyship alive?’ I asked, holding Dora by the shoulders more tightly than I probably meant to.
She nodded, and I felt my whole body sag with relief. ‘And Lord Vye, too?’ I’d almost forgotten to ask.
But now Dora shook her head slowly from side to side. All I could do was stare in disbelief as she started crying in earnest. ‘He’s d-d-d-d-dead. Oh, G-G-Grace, isn’t it awful?’
‘I can’t believe it,’ Florrie said. ‘He drowned, just like any ordinary person.’
‘Well, he wasn’t immortal.’ I blew on my tea and took a sip, scalding my mouth in the process.
‘I know,’ Florried sighed, ‘but you’d have thought he’d be bound to get a place in the lifeboat. I suppose he gave it up for Her Ladyship - so he’s a hero after all, even if he didn’t have to fight to prove it.’
She’d come back with the dairy cart first thing on Monday, in time to help Mrs Jeakes with the breakfasts (our patients still needed feeding, even if none of the household felt like eating), and found me in the harness-room that afternoon. Alf had gone off with his regiment and the ring he’d given her was safely hidden on a chain around her neck. Poor Florrie; the sinking of the Lusitania had rather taken the shine off her wedding weekend.
‘How could those filthy Huns have done such a thing?’ she asked again. ‘Firing at a passenger ship? They say there’s over a thousand dead, with little children and babies among them. It’s an outrage! There were riots in Hardingbridge, you know - people smashed the window of a German baker’s, and you can understand why. What Lady Vye must have been through! How did she look, Grace?’
‘Like a different person. White as a sheet, and some sort of oil or grease in her hair. She was wearing an old skirt somebody must have given her, and no hat.’
Colonel Vye had taken the ferry over to Ireland to find Lady Vye, and had brought her back on the train the
day before. Da and I had both gone to the railway station to meet them; he drove the ambulance while I took the dog-cart. Colonel Vye had wired to say a young lady was travelling with them and we thought it would be better if both of us came, in case there was luggage to collect as well. In fact Her Ladyship had only the clothes she stood up in, but the young lady chose to come back in the dog-cart with me so it wasn’t a wasted journey. She was an American girl, a nurse on her way to work at a field hospital in France, and she and Lady Vye had ended up together in the water.
‘Tell me again what you know,’ Florrie asked, wrapping her shawl more tightly around herself. ‘Did that nurse really save Her Ladyship’s life?’
‘They looked after each other, from what I can gather. There was a door or some such floating past, so they held on to that for a while, and then a lifeboat took them in.’
Naturally I hadn’t wanted to trouble Miss Jackson (Daisy Jackson, that was the name of the American girl) by asking her anything about what had happened, but it turned out she was desperate to talk. She sat beside me in the dog-cart and the whole dreadful story came pouring out: the sunny afternoon with a sea smooth as green glass, the sudden explosion that threw everyone off their feet, the shouting and milling about as passengers rushed up on deck or down to their cabins to find loved ones, the lurch of the ship keeling over, the launching of lifeboats, the panic and chaos and screaming, and then the shock when she leapt into the icy water, and the nightmare of people drowning in front of her eyes. She didn’t say much about that, for which I was grateful.
‘I hope you don’t mind me telling you all this, Grace,’ she said, putting her hand on my arm. ‘But if I don’t talk to somebody I shall go mad and you have such a kind face. Do you realise you’re the first English person I’ve properly spoken to? I don’t know a soul over here, so if Mrs Vye hadn’t offered to let me stay for a while I’d have been up a gum tree. Do you think she has the room? I don’t want to cause any trouble.’
I couldn’t help but smile. ‘There’s plenty of room, Miss, don’t you worry about that. And in fact, it’s Lady Vye, not Mrs. I’m sure she doesn’t mind, but you might as well know.’
‘Oh, good heavens above.’ Miss Jackson put her head in her hands. ‘Trust me to get it wrong.’
I told her something about Swallowcliffe so she would know what to expect. ‘I had no idea Mrs Vye was so grand,’ she kept repeating, which shows you the sort of person Her Ladyship is: a real lady, for all that she’s American and only one of the aristocracy by marriage.
Despite my preparation, Miss Jackson’s eyes were like saucers when we trotted around a bend in the drive and she saw the Hall for the first time, laid out before us in all its glory. ‘Oh, my holy godfathers,’ she gasped. ‘Now I know I’m dreaming. Imagine me, some nobody from New Jersey, staying in a place like this!’
‘If you’d ever like a chat or a cup of tea, come around to the stables,’ I offered, thinking she might feel more at home with us than the family. ‘I’ll show you where they are. Or maybe we could go for a ride when you’re feeling up to it?’
I wanted to help her in any way I could. It was heartbreaking to see her broken fingernails and matted hair, and the web of cuts standing out livid against the pale skin of her arms. Mrs Maroney would make sure she was comfortable and had some decent clothes to wear, but I imagined she’d need a friend as much as anything. She told me they’d found the body of the girl she’d sailed over with; it was being shipped back to America to be buried. ‘What can I say to her folks?’ she asked, kneading a grey rag of a handkerchief in her lap. ‘Mine have passed away so there’s no one to worry about me, but she was an only child with both parents still alive. I should have been the one taken, not her.’
‘But the fact is, you weren’t,’ I said, ‘and you can’t go on feeling guilty about that for ever.’
Who can tell why one person should live while another has to die? It has nothing to do with how hard you pray, or how brave you are, or how much anyone loves you. These days, all sorts of people are being killed every minute - men and women, rich and poor, good and bad, young and old. The only thing to do, I’ve decided, is to live your life as best you can and be jolly grateful for it.
The house sank into mourning while we waited for Lord Vye’s body to come home; even the patients spoke in hushed voices. The blinds were drawn, everyone wore black and a new set of livery was ordered for my father and me, in preparation for the funeral. When would it take place? There had to be an inquest in Ireland first, which the Colonel was to attend. Why couldn’t the body be released? The air hummed with whispered rumours and unanswered questions. Lady Vye kept to her bedroom while the Dragon Lady stalked the corridors with a face as grim as her black crêpe gown. Charles and Lionel had come back from school but they spent most of their time in the old schoolroom, or mooching about by the lake. There were no noisy games of cricket, no chases with barking dogs through the sculpture garden, no fencing matches with walking sticks in the hall. Everything was sombre, and quiet, and sad.
Daisy (that was what she had asked me to call her) came to the stables every day. ‘I shouldn’t be here at a time like this,’ she kept fretting. ‘If only there was something I could do! Lady Vye says not to think of trying to work until I’m stronger, but I can’t bear hanging around the house all day when everyone else is so busy. I should be earning my keep.’
Now she’d had a few nights’ decent sleep and a bath, she’d turned into a fresh-faced, pretty girl with hair shiny as a conker and clear hazel eyes, although anyone could tell she was still fragile. She’d lapse into silence every now and then, staring into the distance, and I could only wonder what dreadful scenes were being replayed in her mind. In the end, I suggested that she might like to help me cleaning harness in the afternoons, since she could sit at the table and it shouldn’t be too taxing. It was nice to have the company and we got a good deal of work done, besides chatting.
She asked me about the horses who had been sent overseas - having noticed so many empty stalls - and my life at Swallowcliffe, and the Vye family; I made her tell me about America, and nursing, and whether she’d thought about spending the war with us rather than going on to France. After all, there were plenty of men to care for at Swallowcliffe and Daisy had surely seen enough danger to last her a lifetime. Selfishly, perhaps, I wanted her to stay. We were becoming firm friends even though she was a few years older than me. I loved the way she spoke, and the funny expressions she came out with, and the fact that she had such decided opinions about everything. (My other nursing friend Margaret would have liked her too, I was sure, but sadly she’d been transferred to one of the big London hospitals by now.)
‘Oh, I don’t want to outstay my welcome,’ she said, smiling at the idea. ‘Now, when are you going to show me those family portraits?’
Old Lady Vye had insisted that any paintings which could be easily moved should be taken down and stored in the billiard room in case they were damaged. Daisy seemed so interested in the family that I’d thought she might like to see them, and had asked the housemaids whether they might let us into the room one morning. There was a picture of the Vyes as children: Master Edward (who was to become our Lord Vye, God rest his soul), Master Rory (Colonel Vye), Miss Eugenie (the Duchess of Clarebourne) and Miss Harriet (Mrs Hathaway). The Dragon Lady was there too, unbelievably young but fierce already, with a toddler on her lap which was Mr John Vye.
‘He’s her only son by birth,’ I explained to Daisy, lifting the painting out from its dust sheet. ‘The others are her stepchildren, from the fifth Lord Vye’s previous marriage.’
‘It’s very complicated,’ Daisy said, gazing over my shoulder at the picture. ‘But that baby sure is adorable! So the tallest boy with dark hair, he’s Lord Vye who was lost with the ship?’ She shivered. ‘Gives you goosebumps.’
I knew what she meant. The children looked so innocent and carefree, but now Edward Vye was lying in a cold Irish mortuary while that angelic curly-haired
toddler fought for dear life somewhere in France. Perhaps it was just as well they couldn’t have seen into the future.
‘There should be a portrait of our young Lady Vye here, too,’ I said, wrapping up the picture and replacing it carefully in the stack. ‘It was painted to mark her wedding to His Lordship. She’s wearing a gown studded with pearls that was so heavy, two footmen had to help carry the train. That’s why she’s sitting down. His Lordship’s there, too, but you hardly notice him. Yes! Here it is.’
Florrie and I had noticed this painting when Lady Vye had taken us on her tour of the Hall and one day, when the family was away, we’d crept out to the main staircase to have another look. I’ve never seen such a beautiful portrait, before or since. Lady Vye is dazzling in a pale gown with the Swallowcliffe diamonds around her neck; she shines out against the dark background like a full moon at night. Lord Vye stands behind in the shadows with one hand on her chair, looking slightly put out, as if he realises already that no one will pay him any attention.
‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ I turned to Daisy - just in time to see her gasp and turn so white I thought she must be about to faint. Hastily putting the painting down, I helped her into a chair by the window and threw it open. ‘Here, have some fresh air. How stupid of me, tiring you out like this!’
‘No, don’t worry,’ she said unsteadily, her eyes still on the picture. ‘I just came over dizzy for a second, that’s all.’ Then she looked at me as if she scarcely knew who I was. ‘Perhaps we should go back now, if you don’t mind. I’ve probably seen enough portraits for one day.’
It was strange, I thought afterwards, that she should have been staring at the figure of Lord Vye, rather than his wife, and that it was the sight of him which seemed to upset her so much. She had told me they’d never met on board ship; the Vyes always travelled first class while she had been in third. What could he have meant to her? Nothing made any sense, and eventually I decided the whole thing had to be merely coincidence. Daisy must have been feeling ill already in the stuffy room and it was only my imagination that the picture had upset her.
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