She suddenly became conscious that no one else around the table was talking, and that their conversation was being marked and approved by a phalanx of smiles. Even the doctor exchanged a knowing look with her aunt. It was beyond embarrassing. Ripley could not have appeared at a more opportune moment. Fruit and nuts arrived along with the port; it was time for the ladies to retire to the drawing room and await the tea tray. The men were permitted their cigars now, though she noticed her father offered no invitation to his smoking room. That redoubt might lack the stuffed fish and heads of game common to most, but it was an entirely masculine domain. Above all, it was Joshua’s private domain and he guarded it ferociously.
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘Giles Audley is such a gentleman, don’t you think?’ Louisa asked over the teacups.
‘I imagine he must be, since he’s related to the Fitzroys.’ Elizabeth’s answer was deliberately obtuse.
What made a gentleman anyway? Was it breeding, or money, or good manners? Or a mix of all three? If so, neither her father nor Uncle Henry would qualify. But if it lay in honesty, in integrity and kindness, then Aiden was the true gentleman.
‘I mean,’ her aunt explained painstakingly, ‘that he is gentlemanly in his conduct and bearing. And so handsome for a man of his age. He is a splendid prize.’ She stroked the expensive sunburst china thoughtfully.
‘And one already awarded to another woman,’ Elizabeth couldn’t resist saying.
Louisa reached out for her hand. ‘Oh, my dear, you mustn’t worry over that. She mustn’t, must she, Alice?’ she appealed to her sister-in-law. ‘Giles’s dear wife died many years ago and, of course, there are no offspring to make things difficult.’
‘If anything,’ her mother chimed in, ‘it should give you confidence. He evidently loved his wife deeply and, by all accounts, he was a very good husband.’
Louisa nodded sagely. ‘He has an excellent pedigree,’ she agreed. ‘And that’s what we want for you, Elizabeth, to be in the hands of a good man – particularly in a world so unsettled as this.’
She prickled with distaste at being so blatantly pressured. She could have said to her aunt that she had no wish to be in the hands of anyone. Except that it wasn’t true. But, for the Fitzroys, they would be entirely the wrong hands.
‘My maid has chosen a good man,’ she said, attempting to deflect the conversation. ‘She is to marry him on Saturday.’
‘How nice,’ Lousia said indifferently. ‘But hardly something that should concern you.’
‘On the contrary, I’m worried for Ivy. Her future looks very uncertain. Her new husband intends to join the fighting if it happens and I want to make sure she has a wedding day to remember.’
Her aunt looked horrified and Alice made haste to intervene. ‘Elizabeth has had Ivy with her since the nursery, you know. It’s natural for her to be concerned for the girl.’
Louisa took a visible breath. She seemed to be readying herself to denounce this treason, but when she spoke it was on a different subject entirely.
‘I was surprised not to see William at dinner. It’s an excellent idea, I think, for a child to be trained in etiquette within the family, and William is well on the way to being a young man. Gilbert will certainly be eating his dinner with us very soon.’
‘If you remember,’ Alice said, ‘we have a friend of William’s staying.’
‘But still, my dear, could they not both have come? I imagine it would do the friend a power of good, particularly coming from the background he does.’ She paused. ‘William is well, I suppose?’
‘Perfectly.’
‘I wondered. Henry was saying only the other day that his health must be a worry for you both. It would be quite shocking if he became a permanent invalid.’
Elizabeth’s pulse tumbled uncomfortably, but before she had time to analyse exactly why, the door opened and the men drifted in, one by one. In the end, they had not sat long over their port. She could not imagine a conversation between the four; the atmosphere must have been more awkward even than when the women had been present.
Giles Audley made for the chair nearest her and sat down. She was sharply aware of another round of approving looks filling the room. She was suffocating beneath this weight of expectation and longed to flee. But there was no escape. Not yet.
‘I’ve been thinking about what you said,’ he began.
‘You haven’t been talking then?’
He pulled his mouth into a grimace and his eyes flickered with amusement. ‘The conversation wasn’t that easy, shall we say.’
‘It hasn’t been easy here either. So what were your thoughts?’
‘Not great ones, I’m afraid. But your worries over your chauffeur – it may not be so very bad. You heard what your uncle said. He’s sure that any conflict will be short and sharp and over by Christmas. Eddie and his compatriots could be back to celebrate with you.’
‘If he comes back,’ she said thoughtfully. He looked nonplussed. ‘I don’t mean he wouldn’t return to Ivy, but I wonder how willing he’ll be – how willing any of the servants will be – to return to the kind of life they have here.’
‘I can’t imagine they wouldn’t return,’ he said in a surprised voice. ‘Think of the emotional stake they have in the family, in the estate. All servants do. Quite often, you know, they feel the house belongs to them as much as it does to you.’
‘But they would have seen a different world, a wider world. Once they’re convinced they can sell their skills elsewhere, and for greater reward, they may not be quite as keen to return.’
He tilted his head, weighing her words. ‘It’s true they’ll be of value to the army. A number of them will know how to shoot and most can use tools. And there’ll be others who can drive horses or even motor vehicles. But I still think you’d see your men return. Their jobs would be kept open for them and no doubt, when they got back, their wages would rise. There are already tales that some farmers are offering their labourers higher wages to keep them. And employment as a servant is secure, don’t forget. One should never underestimate the lure of security in a harsh world.’
‘But theirs is already a harsh world, isn’t it? I’m not sure that once they’ve tasted freedom, they’d want to come back. Our servants are mainly from the village, but factory work would certainly pay them more. And once the traditional link is severed, it would be for good.’
‘I think you’re being unduly pessimistic. Your family are good employers. A position at Summerhayes would be a great deal to give up.’
She took a while before she answered. ‘We treat our people as well as anyone else, but there’s no disguising that their lives are hard. They work from dawn to dusk. We have electric light, telephones, a motor car, but even in a modern house like Summerhayes, the chores are unending. Being a servant is little better than being a drudge.’
‘Those are the words of revolution, Elizabeth. I wonder, is this Mrs Pankhurst’s influence? I know she’s preached that the women’s vote could mean a government that would help both workers and women.’
She’d read that speech and been heartened by it, but in truth it was meeting Aiden that had given her a new sensitivity to the lives of working people. Previously, their existence – even Ivy’s – was something she’d taken for granted.
She ignored his question and asked instead, ‘Would you be willing to fight?’
He gave a droll laugh. ‘Willing, but whether they’d have me is another matter. I wouldn’t be conscripted that’s for certain – I’m too old. But volunteering would be different. I was once in the cavalry, like most of the young men I knew, and, if I should ever volunteer, a cavalry regiment is where I’d go.’
‘This war, if it happens, will not be a war for horses.’ Joshua’s strident tones broke through their talk.
‘And surely you would not volunteer.’ Alice was following in her husband’s footsteps. ‘Not now, of all times.’
Elizabeth had been engrossed in her conversation with
Giles and had not noticed the room grow quiet around them. Now she realised that every word they’d said had been overheard. It was as though the company were silently encouraging them, nudging them forward, urging them to bond over this talk of war. It was ridiculous. Yet here was her mother posing a question to Giles Audley of what he intended for his future.
‘In all probability, Mrs Summer, I won’t volunteer,’ he answered her mother placidly.
‘Absolutely not! You’ll have far more important things on your mind, eh, Giles?’ Her uncle had rediscovered his social manners since leaving the dining room, but the familiar smooth polish had leached into a cordiality that was horribly false.
‘That will depend,’ Giles said easily, without specifying exactly what.
Every person in the drawing room seemed to be looking at her, as though she were an icon in gold, giving off lustrous light, to be gazed upon in wonderment. Even Giles became conscious of the extraordinary attention the two of them were attracting, and for a moment his easy manner slipped. He made a business of clearing his throat.
‘I hope to call on you tomorrow, Mr Summer,’ he managed to say.
*
‘He’ll be here tomorrow,’ Joshua said with satisfaction later that evening. ‘Good. That’s one thing we can settle, if nothing else.’ Most unusually, he had come to Alice’s room before going to bed. Her elderly maid was still unpinning her hair, but she dismissed the woman immediately.
‘When do you think we should have the wedding?’ she ventured, swivelling around on her dressing stool to face him.
Elizabeth had seemed interested in her suitor and happy to talk with him, but Alice’s doubts over her daughter’s future had not entirely subsided. One could never tell with Elizabeth. All Alice could do was to cling to a hope. The dinner had been one of the worst trials of her life and she could only pray that the terrifying evening had been worth the pain.
‘We’ll have it as soon as possible,’ Joshua declared. ‘There’s no point in delaying and, even at short notice, we can put on a splendid party.’ She could see that he was already imagining Summerhayes decked in bunting. ‘You’ll have Mrs Lacey to help you. Together, you’ll manage well enough. Tonight was a good show, Alice.’
She flushed with pleasure at the unexpected praise. ‘It wasn’t the most comfortable experience,’ she hazarded.
‘Only because your brother is an arrogant snob, and pig-headed to boot.’
‘I don’t think he understands the situation in the way you do,’ she said placatingly, though in truth she had little understanding of it herself. The idea of a looming war still seemed unreal.
She saw her husband look at the small clock on her dressing table. It was ten minutes to eleven.
‘We’ll know the worst very shortly,’ he said. ‘Midnight Berlin time, that’s when the ultimatum expires. Most of us know already. Nobody expects Germany to get out of Belgium. Despite what Henry says, the country has sensed there’s something bad coming. There’ll be people in the Mall tonight, you’ll see. It’s a warm evening and they’ll be converging on Big Ben and singing, “God Save the King”.’
From deep in the hall, the chimes of the grandfather clock struck eleven. ‘That’s it. The die is cast,’ he said solemnly. ‘At this very moment telegrams will be winging their way around the world, telling our ships to begin hostilities against Germany. Can you imagine it?’
She couldn’t. Her mind was remote from far-flung ships or even the crowds in London. It was the personal that once again struck a chord. ‘I do hope Giles won’t think of signing up to join the cavalry.’
‘He’d be a fool if he was. They’ll be mincemeat,’ he said crudely.
She looked alarmed and his impatience spilt out. ‘Don’t fuss, Alice. Audley was quite clear. He won’t be wandering off to war if he gets married. A wedding will stop him from any nonsensical idea of joining up. We’ll organise it for a few weeks’ time – you should be able to manage that – and then both of them will be anchored here. They can make their home at Summerhayes. No need for a separate establishment.’
He began to walk towards the door, but then paused as a happy thought struck. ‘We’re bound to lose men from the estate, even if your ignorant brother is right and the conflict is over in months. I’ll need help in running Summerhayes and Audley is the man to do it. He comes from an old country family; he’ll know the ropes. Having him as a son-in-law will be just the ticket.’
‘I hope Elizabeth thinks so,’ she risked saying, and received due punishment.
‘Sometimes you talk utter nonsense! Of course, she’ll think so. You can see she’s delighted with the match. The two of them never stopped talking the entire evening.’
Alice kept silent. She dared not say what she was thinking, that unceasing talk was hardly a guarantee of lifelong commitment. In many ways, just the opposite. She’d watched Elizabeth’s face as she had sat chatting. It was open and friendly, interested in what Giles was saying, but there had been not a shred of love in it.
‘They’ll get married,’ Joshua declared, brooking no argument. ‘And very soon.’
‘Of course they will,’ she agreed. But her husband had stomped from the room without hearing her or hearing the quiver of doubt in her voice.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The boys had enjoyed their evening watching Ripley and his fellows rushing in and out of the kitchen, arms sagging beneath precariously balanced trays, and with faces schooled to blankness as they prepared to do battle in the dining room.
‘There’s a right to-do upstairs,’ Ripley announced, dumping the remains of the roast beef on the wooden worktop. ‘You should hear ’em going hammer and tongs.’ His sober face lit with the ghost of a grin.
‘Never mind that now.’ Cook, flushed and out of breath, scattered commands. ‘Grab that platter of duck, Mr Ripley, and you – Jim, isn’t it? – you’ll need to follow with the game chips.’
William, comfortably ensconced at the trestle table, could feel only gratitude that he’d escaped the hammer and tongs. His poor sister had not and he dared not think how his mother was coping. It wasn’t something worrying Oliver. With his mouth still full, he reached out for a final spoonful of mash to go with his last bit of steak-and-kidney pudding. ‘This is amazing potato,’ he said in a muffled voice.
‘Looks like it, Master Oliver,’ Cook said tartly, ‘You’ve managed to eat most of our supper, too.’
Oliver looked abashed and began to apologise when Cook gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, lad. By the look of it, there’ll be plenty over from the dining room. With all those shenanigans going on, the mistress for one won’t be eating. And after all my hard work.’ She gave a weary sigh, and began to pile up the plates they’d scraped clean.
‘You know we appreciate your hard work, don’t you?’ Oliver said.
‘I do that, and I’ve baked you both a lemon sponge to prove it.’
‘Gosh! Thanks, Cook.’ William jumped up and hugged her. He carried the cake to the table and cut them two large slices. Then carefully topped up their glasses of ginger beer.
‘Yes, thanks,’ muttered Oliver, his mouth once again full.
‘The ladies have gone to the drawing room,’ Ripley reported a few minutes later, kicking the kitchen door shut behind him. ‘As soon as the men have drunk their port, we’ll clear the table. They won’t be there long. They can barely manage a word between ’em.’
‘Then it’s time you two were gone.’ Cook nodded a dismissal. ‘We’ve still a deal of work to do getting this place cleaned up.’
There was a crash from the other side of the kitchen. ‘What are you doing with that pan?’ she yelled at a scullery maid, who was chasing a large aluminium dish around the Belfast sink.
‘Time to go, Wills.’ Olly winked at his friend and scraped back his chair.
‘Let’s go by the back stairs,’ William said. He had no wish to meet his parents or his parents’ guests. They must be avoided at all costs.<
br />
As soon as they reached the bedroom, he burrowed in the old toy chest and brought out a battered box. ‘Look what I found the other day when Mama made me stay in.’
‘Ludo?’ Olly looked disdainful, but then his competitive spirit got the better of him. ‘Bet I can beat you at it.’
They spread themselves across the floor and, before long, true to his word, Oliver was victorious. ‘We’ll play draughts next,’ he decided. ‘That should give you a chance. You’re good at draughts and you need to win some of the time.’
William smiled at him and Olly smiled back, warmly, secretly, as though they were part of a conspiracy together. But draughts proved to be as much Oliver’s game as ludo and, in desperation, he pulled the box of Chinese chequers from under the bed. ‘This is your moment, William. Chinese chequers will be it.’ The game that followed was fought with vigour, but finally William was able to give a victory ‘Hurrah!’
‘Did you let me win?’ he asked suspiciously.
Olly reached out and smoothed his friend’s cheek, then punched him lightly on the shoulder. ‘Maybe a little. Tonight I’m super champion, but you can have your revenge tomorrow.’ He scrambled to his feet, grabbed his pyjamas and toothbrush, and made his way to the bathroom.
William slowly packed away the chequers. He had begun to crumple into tiredness: winning had been hard. He put on his pyjamas and climbed into bed, then lay there, unmoving, watching the door for Olly to come back. Olly was the very best friend he could ever have. More than a friend though. That must be true, or he’d not be plagued by a yearning he couldn’t lose, one that left him empty and adrift. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way. Friends didn’t, did they? They didn’t want to kiss each other. His body stiffened at the thought. He’d always refused to form that word in his mind, but now he had and felt himself trembling. He had to stop thinking like this, had to stop imagining how it could be. It couldn’t.
The effort to subdue his imagination made him tireder than ever and, by the time Oliver returned from the bathroom, he was almost asleep. Fatigue muffled him in its thick dark blanket, and he was hardly aware of his friend moving around the room. But then Olly came over to him and knelt beside the bed. William opened his eyes. Was there something wrong?
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