by Mary Arden
When I arrived at Cheltenham Spa station, I wondered if I’d recognise my Uncle and Aunt, as I hadn’t seen them since I was a little girl. They had two sons who were roughly the same age as Charles, but I knew they had both been called up, one in the Army, the other in the Navy, so I wouldn’t get to see them this time.
However, my Uncle or Aunt were not there to meet me but had sent their elderly chauffeur, Briggs to collect me. When we arrived at the house, he dropped me at the front door and a very young maid greeted me; and as she bobbed a curtsey she said, ‘Lady Felicity is waiting for you in the small drawing room, Miss Mary.’
I was very glad to see a log fire burning brightly in the fireplace in the hall; at least the old house felt warm, remembering how bitterly cold some of the old houses had been that I’d stayed in for long weekends during the season.
The minute I saw Uncle Arthur, I recognised his warm smile and happy memories came flooding back. He opened his arms and gave me a big hug, while Aunt Felicity just stood and stared at me. ‘My goodness how you’ve grown.’
‘I hope so, I was only ten when I last saw you both!’ I said.
After we’d had some tea, Aunt Felicity explained that their former Nanny, who they now called Nurse, would help me choose the most suitable clothes to wear each day as they no longer had a ladies maid.
‘And if any of your shoes seemed to have gone missing,’ Uncle Arthur chipped in, ‘don’t worry, it will just mean that Nurse has given them to Briggs to clean. She’s got a thing about clean shoes; I’ve even started wearing house slippers in desperation, so that I know that I’ve got something to put on my feet at the end of the day!’
My aunt then said she’d show me to my room, and as she did so explained that only Nurse and I would be using the hot water in the nursery bathroom. ‘You can take a bath any time, dear, except, if you don’t mind, in the afternoons when Nurse prefers to take hers.’
I met Nurse later that evening and she invited me to sit down by her fire so that we could get acquainted. She explained that a bell in her room was connected between the nurseries, so if I required anything at all in the night I only had to ring and she would hear me.
‘Tell me dear, who sees to your hair in the evening when you are at home?’ she asked.
‘Oh, I do it myself,’ I replied.
‘And who cleans the house dear?’ Nurse asked, sounding most concerned, ‘Surely not your mother!’
I explained that Pansy came in daily to clean the house for us, but that I also helped with the household chores as much as possible.
‘That’s kind of you to help your mother, I approve of that, especially in these difficult times. It’s possible that Lady Felicity may be glad of your help too, perhaps you could help her arrange the flowers while you are here?’
‘I’d be happy to,’ I told her.
When I went back to my room I noticed that my hot water bottle, which I had left on my bed, was now missing. I hoped that the maid had taken it down to the kitchen to fill later.
Feeling grubby from my train journey I decided to have a bath, but when I saw how big it was, I realised that the regulation two inches at the bottom would hardly cover my toes and feared that I’d freeze to death! There’s a limit to being patriotic, I thought, as I defied the regulation and ran it until it was half full.
I had no idea what I should wear for dinner that evening and was about to open the wardrobe to make a choice when there was a knock on the door. Nurse bustled into my room and handed me a long-legged pair of woollen drawers, ‘Lady Felicity suggests that you wear these under your skirt, as it’s draughty in the dining room, and then you’ll be playing Bridge after dinner in the boudoir, which is even colder,’ she warned me.
I smiled and thanked Nurse politely, but once she’d left the room, I stuffed them under a cushion: ‘My gym knickers are bad enough, but these really are the end!’ I muttered, but later that evening after dinner and feeling half frozen to death, I excused myself to go and tidy my hair and ran upstairs to my room to retrieve the long drawers from underneath the cushion and pulled them on, before going back downstairs to play Bridge with my cousins, the vicar, his wife and a local spinster known as ‘Miss Betty’, who’d also been invited.
We played a number of hands and everyone seemed to take it very seriously. The vicar’s wife was deaf and didn’t always hear what was being called, which meant that we all had to shout; while the old spinster who had looked like a shy lamb during dinner now played Bridge like a fierce lion; and without mercy. I played reasonably well that evening and was grateful to Signora for insisting that her gals were taught to play Bridge by an expert, otherwise ‘Miss Betty’ would have had her claws in me too.
I slept like a baby that night and was woken at eight o’clock by the housemaid with a tray of tea and two dry biscuits. She seemed quite nervous at first, but after I had thanked her for the tea and told her what a treat it was, she relaxed a bit and told me her name was Rose.
‘Oh, Miss Mary, I nearly forgot. Nurse gave me a message for you: you should dress in your riding clothes this morning as Sir Arthur is planning to take you riding after breakfast.’
When I went down for breakfast I found Uncle Arthur reading his newspaper, ‘Help yourself m’ dear.’
Fried eggs, grilled tomatoes and my favourite – fried bread – nothing that required food coupons. Bliss!
Nervous about interrupting the silence but needing to ask something after my second piece of toast and marmalade, I cleared my throat and said, ‘Excuse me Uncle Arthur, but do you wish me to wear a hard hat this morning?’
‘Good Lord, no, my dear, we only wear those when hunting.’
After breakfast, I went out into the yard where the groom was waiting for me. He had two horses saddled: a grey Welsh pony, and a lovely looking bay, but on seeing how small I was, the groom suggested kindly that I should ride the Welsh pony that morning and see how I managed to keep up with the others.
‘If you’d just canter round the field, Miss Mary; you might find Morag a little slow, but she’s good at the gates,’ he suggested. ‘The bay – now he can be very naughty!’
I let him tighten the girths before I mounted, and then cantered Morag around the field; she was comfortable but awfully boring. Better safe than sorry though, I thought. Perhaps once I’d got to know the paths and rides I’d be allowed to take out the bay; he certainly looked like a beautiful horse and I longed to get on his back.
‘You’ll need to kick Morag on as you leave Miss Mary, but there’ll be no bother from her on the way home, as she knows there’ll be a feed waiting for her,’ the groom told me, smiling.
I was glad that I’d put on a warm polo-necked jersey under my riding jacket that morning despite the bright sunshine. An hour later, Uncle Arthur and I were riding down the lanes chatting happily together about horses, and as we reached a narrow part of the bridleway he said that he’d better lead the way, ‘mind your head on the overhanging branches,’ he warned as his mount broke into a trot.
About ten minutes later we came to a gate leading out into open fields, and I found that Morag and I were being left behind somewhat, but Uncle Arthur had kindly waited for me before opening the gate. Then, pointing to some woods in the near distance, he explained there was a gap between the two fields that led to them.
‘Close the gate behind you,’ he said jovially, as he galloped off.
Morag behaved beautifully and didn’t back away as I closed the gate, ‘I think I’ll call you Lady Morag,’ I whispered in her ear laughing, ‘because you’ve behaved like one.’ but she obviously wasn’t listening, as suddenly she took off as fast as her little legs would carry her to catch up with the big black stallion that Uncle Arthur was riding.
Thankfully, I managed to stay on Morag’s back and arrived at Uncle Arthur’s side flushed with the excitement of the gallop. As I pulled up, I was surprised to see a group of other riders join us from another field.
Uncle Arthur beamed, as he introd
uced me to his friends. I just smiled and nodded, thinking I’d never remember their names, deciding, therefore, that it would be a good idea to give them all nicknames so that at least I’d know who was who: ‘Miss Mole’ had a mole on her chin and was riding a chestnut horse. ‘Lady Side-Bottom’ was riding ‘side saddle’ like a Victorian Lady on a lovely grey mare. Then there was a gentlemen farmer, whom I named ‘Farmer Jolly’ because he looked like a Toby jug someone had given my father some years before. There was also a young man on a horse bigger even than Uncle Arthur’s who had put his hand to his hat to greet me while staring at me in a rather strange way.
I was just wondering what to call him, when I heard him say, ‘Spiffing morning, don’t you know,’ and so he became, ‘Sir Spiffing’. I thought it was a bit like riding with characters from the Bertie Wooster books.
We all rode together for a while and then suddenly we were galloping across a field towards a very high hedge. I was fearful that Morag would be too small to jump it, and tried to pull her towards the gate where one or two of the ladies were waiting, but she had ideas of her own. I closed my eyes and squeezed my knees even tighter against her sides, praying: ‘Please God, don’t let me go head over heels and shame Uncle Arthur by falling off if Morag suddenly stops. Amen.’
I opened my eyes again and was relieved that Morag and I had safely jumped over the hedge, but then when I realised that everyone else had galloped on ahead, a slight sense of panic began to take hold: I had no idea where I was or where Uncle Arthur’s house was, but just then, ‘Sir Spiffing’ appeared at my side and explained that one had to turn sharp right down a lane.
‘Follow me,’ he said kindly.
When we got back to the stable yard I left Morag with the stable boy and hurried back to the house to wash my hands and tidy my hair before lunch, but when I couldn’t find anything to brush or comb my hair with I looked at myself in the mirror and thought ‘What the Hell, its only horsey people, they won’t mind if I look a bit of a mess.’
A few minutes later, eating my lunch and feeling very happy and relaxed I noticed that ‘Sir Spiffing’ had spied me and was coming towards me with a glass in his hand, but before he could reach me, I heard a deep voice shout out ‘Mary!’ and when I looked behind me there was Charles standing right in front of me.
‘Did you get caught in a hurricane on the way here?’ he laughed pointing at my hair, but then realising that I wasn’t laughing along with him, made a complete mess of his own hair and said, ‘That’s funny, me too!’ and then I did laugh.
The following morning I was given the chance to ride the bay, which I was very happy about, and as I mounted, I saw Charles trotting towards us on his beautiful grey horse. He looked every bit like the country squire, and as we rode through nearby villages, it was obvious that all the locals accepted him as the future Earl. Men touched their caps and the women bobbed a curtsey to him. I liked the way that he acknowledged each of them in a friendly way and knew them all by name.
After we had taken the horses back to the stables, Charles told me that his parents were expecting us both for lunch, but assured me that it would be very informal, so to wear ‘something comfortable’. I took him at his word and while he spoke to my Uncle and Aunt, I got changed into what I thought was appropriate for lunch, and then he drove me to his family home. On the way, he said that his father, Anthony Lord Walbrooke Earl of Netherly, was one of the kindest, gentlest people I’d ever be likely to meet, and that they had a family nickname for him: Brookie. However, I should address him as Lord Walbrooke until told otherwise, and that I should call his mother, Lady Celia.
As we rode up the long drive, I got my first glimpse of the Walbrooke’s lovely old house. It was about twice the size of my parent’s home.
Lady Celia met us at the door, looking every bit the Lady of the Manor in a smart skirt, twin-set and pearls, as she guided us into the drawing room where we found her husband, a tall, dark-haired man, with a few flecks of grey here and there on the temples. He wore a military moustache that was also grey.
We had a lovely lunch together, which was very informal, as Charles had promised, and I found his parents easy to talk to, which made me warm to them immediately. After lunch Lady Celia told me that she’d like to show me one or two very rare books in their library, and as we wended our way to the other side of the house, I noticed that she was hobbling a bit. I enquired if she’d hurt her foot, ‘Not foot, my dear, feet!’ she exclaimed, ‘I’m standing on them for much longer these days than ever before, as I have to do so much around the house now that most of the servants have been called up and they get damn sore!’
‘Why don’t you buy a pair of smart velvet slippers?’ I suggested ‘that’s what my mother wears in the evenings now. They don’t look like bedroom slippers at all and they’re very comfortable apparently.’
‘I have to go shopping tomorrow in Cheltenham, so I’ll see if I can find a pair, as they sound like just what I need.’
When it was time to go Lord Walbrooke took both my hands in his and said, ‘Next time we meet my dear, please call me Brookie, everyone does.’
Charles drove me back to my uncle’s house and when we were nearly there he turned to me and said, ‘I have so enjoyed seeing you again after all this time; may I drive you to the station tomorrow morning? It’ll save your Aunt and Uncle some petrol.’
‘That would be lovely, thank you,’ I replied.
As I packed the following morning, I felt a little sad that my stay had been so swift, as I had really enjoyed my visit and wondered how long it would be before I had the chance to see everyone again. Before I left, I made a point of tipping each of the staff personally, and gave Rose a little bit extra for being so attentive to me. I gave Nurse a big hug and then went into the drawing room to say thank you to my Uncle and Aunt for having me to stay. Charles had already arrived and as I kissed Aunt Felicity goodbye, Charles kindly carried my suitcase to his car.
When we arrived at the station, he insisted on carrying my luggage all the way to the train. I couldn’t help but laugh quietly to myself, as he walked towards a first-class carriage and opened the door for me. He was obviously under the impression that I was travelling first-class, and appeared to be a bit nonplussed when I informed him that I only had a third-class ticket. I explained that I felt safer being in a crowded carriage full of friendly people than I did on my own in a first-class carriage.
Charles made sure that I was comfortable and then gently kissed me goodbye on my cheek, holding me by the top of my arms in a respectful half embrace, ‘I’m going to miss you, Mary, let’s try to meet up again soon.’
He then closed the carriage door and as I leaned out of the open window to wave goodbye to him, he said with a cheeky grin, ‘At last! I do believe we are now the same height, so it would be much easier to kiss you now, if that would be alright?’
I nodded so he lent towards me and very gently kissed me on my lips. I managed to stay upright until I had waved him out of sight and then went weak at the knees again.
The next morning, when nobody was listening I rang Jane, who was still at home on school holidays, and told her about my visit to Gloucestershire and all about Charles.
‘Has he got grey hair, he sounds terribly old?’ she teased.
‘Certainly not, he has gorgeous dark hair and he’s very good looking,’ I replied indignantly. She then told me how she would miss me next term but was grateful that at least I had been there for her first term to show her the ropes.
Over the next few weeks I travelled up and down from Woking to London to be with Aunt Beth and go to all the parties, and balls that I had been invited to. Marcus told me that he was rather enjoying being my chaperone, and I noticed that he was putting on a little weight, which was most probably due to all the free food he was guzzling.
Charles rang me at Aunt Beth’s one evening and invited us both out for a meal at a rather expensive restaurant, which was a treat for us all. The following week Aunt Beth said
she would cook a meal for us at her flat, which was just as good. After several more dinners at restaurants and at her flat, Aunt Beth began making excuses, saying that she was busy and couldn’t join us, and told me that as long as I didn’t tell my mother, it was all right with her if I wanted to go out with Charles without her as a chaperone; as she trusted Charles to behave as the perfect gentleman that she knew he was. But she did insist that I was back by ten.
The next time we met up Charles suggested that we walk through the park, as it was such a fine spring evening, and as we approached the gates, he asked me whether I’d like to have supper with him back at his house rather than go to a restaurant, ‘I’m a marvel with a tin of baked beans, and a dab-hand at hot-buttered toast, best in the regiment,’ he boasted so I agreed, but as we walked towards his father’s mews house, the air-raid siren sounded.
‘Damn and hell,’ Charles said taking my hand and urging me to run, ‘the quicker we take cover the better,’ he shouted over the wail, but as neither of us knew where the nearest public shelter was in this neighbourhood, Charles suggested that we took shelter under the steps that led down to the basement area of one of the large Georgian houses nearby. As I stood against the wall, he put his arms around me protectively and then we waited there for the air raid to finish. Suddenly there was a loud crunch, followed by a boom, and then the whole street shook.
An eerie silence followed, as Charles and I stood motionless in each other’s arms, ‘We’d better stay put for a bit, the wardens will come along and tell us when we can move.’ We waited for another five minutes but no one came and then Charles told me to stay where I was while he went to find a taxi.
‘Promise me you won’t move Mary, because if you do, I won’t know where to find you,’ Charles ordered.
‘Yes Sir,’ I said saluting him, giggling with the relief that nothing awful had happened to us.