‘Penny!’ he called, seemingly oblivious to her torture, and walked over to hug her, lifting her so her feet left the ground, and spinning her around. ‘Good heavens, Cousin Penny. You’re all grown-up and delicious to boot!’
He set her down and she self-consciously straightened her clothes. ‘I prefer Penelope now.’
‘Really?’
She shrugged. ‘Actually, Pen’s fine.’
‘Well, well . . . you certainly are a sight for sore eyes, cousin.’ And then he swung back to address the still-shocked room. ‘Again, I’m sorry to return unannounced like this but I’ll explain everything over breakfast. I’m starving, Bramson. Load up a plate, would you?’
The butler smiled. ‘I’d be delighted to, Lord Wynter,’ he said, and couldn’t resist stealing a glance at Douglas, who was hiding his distress reasonably well under the circumstances.
‘Now, now. Enough of that, Bramson. I’m Mr Alex to you and that’s how it shall remain.’
‘So . . .’ Fern began, helplessly thinking aloud and looking at her husband with dismay. ‘So . . . you’re back and that means you are . . .’
‘Yes, Fern dear,’ Cecily joined in. ‘Our darling Alex is back, the line of inheritance is righted and most importantly, I have all of my brood gathered safely. Thomas can rest in peace; his family is intact.’
As Bramson set down a plate of food in front of Cecily, she beamed him her thanks. ‘Now, while I have everyone’s attention, you should know I spoke with Gerald in the early hours of this morning to alert him to the obvious change that Lex’s return brings.’ Fern’s mouth was still slightly open with shock, her food congealing on her plate. ‘Your father took the sensible precaution of having a codicil to his will and I think we have Cousin Penny to thank for that, as she convinced Thomas to never give up hope that his eldest heir might walk through that front door one day, which is exactly what he did last night,’ she said, placing an affectionate hand on Alex’s arm. ‘Anyway, Douglas, my darling, let’s talk quietly after breakfast; there are matters you and I must discuss. This is what your father would have wanted.’ She gave her middle son the briefest of sad smiles. ‘I’ll let Lex tell you his story.’
As Mr Alex began to relate the events of what he could recall since leaving Larksfell, Bramson believed that two people at the Wynter breakfast table were not paying attention. Mr Douglas looked as shellshocked as the men his brother was describing in the trenches of Ypres, while Miss Aubrey-Finch appeared mesmerised by her eldest cousin, as though he were an apparition sent from the heavens.
_______________
Edie startled awake, her eyes opening and not registering anywhere familiar. Harsh sounds echoed of metal on metal, heels clicking on cold floors and distant voices. She was lying in a hard bed, could feel rubber squeaking somewhere beneath her, and now as her thoughts assembled, she remembered passing out at home.
She dug rapidly and could only come up with blurry images of nurses prodding at her, talking overly loudly into the vacuum she felt like she’d slipped into. She’d drifted into and out of a deep sleep that was sometimes painful, sometimes numbed. She couldn’t remember anything else, not even why she’d fainted in the first instance.
Edie blinked and swung her head around to recognise Madeleine.
‘Bonjour, cherie,’ she whispered.
Edie gave a wan smile. ‘Am I in hospital?’
Her friend nodded. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Weak,’ she admitted.
A nurse arrived, prim and starched but friendly. ‘Hello, dear. Any pain?’
‘Nothing much,’ she admitted. ‘The baby?’
The two women at her bedside shared a glance.
‘I’ll leave you alone,’ the nurse said. ‘Call if you need anything. She’ll probably be thirsty.’
‘Where’s my child?’ Edie demanded, her voice ringing with sharp anxiety.
‘Your son is weak but he has courage. He made it through the night and today. All good signs. The nurses are holding high hopes. Be calm. Here, drink this,’ Madeleine said, and helped to lift Edie’s shoulders from the bed so she could sip the water, then her friend dropped back onto the pillow with relief at the news.
‘I ache but I want to see him.’ She watched her friend nod before the Frenchwoman took a deep breath, as though she were hurting too. ‘Madeleine?’
‘Eden . . . listen.’
And then Edie remembered. ‘Tom!’
Her friend shook her head. ‘There’s no more news.’
Edie felt her pain intensify.
‘Eden . . .’ Madeleine hesitated and looked so pale and distraught that Edie frowned and understood that Tom’s disappearance clearly wasn’t the only bad news.
‘Just tell me,’ she demanded. Eden watched, almost as if she were an observer, rather than a participant, as Madeleine took her hand.
‘Now, listen to me. I have things to tell you that are painful. But I’m here and I will not leave you.’
Edie swallowed hard.
_______________
The will of Thomas Wynter had been read to the gathered family and with the codicil’s influence it was precisely as was expected, since the four siblings were old enough to understand about inheritances. All were well set up for the future. However, for Douglas, and especially for his wife, it was as neither had expected.
This was obvious to all and Alex especially sympathised. While Fern was sobbing in their suite and hurriedly trying to pack up their things, Alex found his brother sitting in the plum orchard, looking deeply glum.
Douglas bristled at Alex’s quiet approach. ‘Come to gloat?’
‘You don’t believe that for a moment, surely. You know me better than that, Dougie.’
Dougie sighed. ‘That’s what’s so intolerable, old man. Everyone finds you impossible to dislike, including me. You and Rupe always were like that, always will be.’ He tossed away an unripe plum he’d been rolling around his palm. ‘Another month . . . end of August . . . and this place will be dripping with fruit ready to be jammed or jarred,’ he remarked wistfully, staring up into the crowded canopy of fruit trees, laden with bounty for the Wynter kitchen.
‘You always liked it here.’
His brother nodded. ‘I used to get bellyache from all the plums I plucked.’ He sounded melancholy and Alex understood that although his middle brother was opposite to him in so many ways, he had never forgotten their closeness during childhood. By their late teens Doug had discovered a streak of bitterness towards Alex’s luck, often remarking that he’d rather have been born last than in the middle. Alex could hear in his brother’s wistfulness a yearning for the simplicity of childhood days.
‘You know Dougie, I didn’t plan for this. I wouldn’t deliberately hurt you, ever.’
He nodded. ‘I know. It’s a shock, that’s all. We’d all come to terms with the notion – that you’d been lost – and I did grieve for you, don’t doubt that. But I’d got used to the idea that I would be the head of the Wynter empire and . . .’ He gave a sad gust of laughter. ‘Fern had made meticulous plans for the redecorating of Larksfell.’
Alex cut him a bewildered glance.
‘Don’t blame me, old boy,’ Dougie continued. ‘I would leave it just as it is. I’m as sentimental as any of you three, but Fern has always felt no one in the family truly likes her.’
‘So she hoped to sweep us all away with her new broom?’
Dougie shrugged. ‘Something like that. I do love my wife, Lex, despite her sharp edges. You know, after you’d gone, it was our father who suggested I hold off volunteering.’ He shook his head. ‘You even got to be the hero. Father allowed Rupe to join up, too – said it was definitely his role and yours. Mine was to stay back and help him run things here, especially on the farms. “Essential food for the boys in uniform.” I bought into it, Lex; really felt I had a role to finally play.’
Alex sighed, only now fully tapping into what must be a lifetime of pain for his middle brother.
&nb
sp; ‘Anyway, one day I had to go into Eastbourne to run some business errands for Father and there was a parade on. Another jolly bunch of men off to war being cheered on wildly by their adoring wives and girlfriends. I paused to clap them on – I felt proud of them and in that moment I wished with all of my heart that I could be one of them. I was so distracted that I had no idea some woman had come up and tucked a white feather into my breast pocket; I only realised after she left my side with a sneer. I learned later it was part of a revolt called the Women of England’s Active Service League. Its sole objective was to urge their men, even shame them, into joining up. If that meant publicly labelling them cowards, so be it.’
Alex heard his brother’s voice crack and his heart went out to him. ‘I had no idea, Dougie.’
‘It wasn’t my last. I’ve kept the three feathers I earned for my cowardice and it was only after a frightful argument with Mother and Father that I was finally allowed to join up.’ He gave a mirthless gust of breath. ‘I’m not even that sure if either of our parents didn’t rig the test – you know, pull some strings so I wasn’t permitted to head to the front.’
Lex nodded. ‘You were talking about Fern,’ he said gently, needing to get his brother away from talk of war.
‘Yes . . . I was. She was the only woman I met who didn’t raise her eyebrows that I wasn’t seen to be part of the fighting effort. She understood that some men had to remain behind to run the country, the factories, the farms —’
‘You don’t have to convince me.’
His brother swallowed back another tirade. ‘Anyway, I’m not a dullard, old chap. Fern can be avaricious but she’s never had much and her parents used to put on a good show of pretending they did, trading off the family name. There are no assets, though. It couldn’t have been easy for her growing up. I put it down to her shock at suddenly being able to afford just about anything she wants; I keep hoping she might run out of energy for acquiring stuff. All her sisters have had to make strategic marriages. None of us know what that feels like. But she and I are lucky because I know in our quiet times that Fern loves me for the right reasons . . . as well as for the wise reasons.’
‘I’m not judging you, Dougie. I do understand. If I’d come home on time or even if I’d genuinely died in action . . .’ He sighed. ‘After seeing Mother, all night long I thought about just walking out and forgetting about Larksfell and the inheritance and —’
‘Don’t be bonkers. It was always your rightful place. I knew that. It’s just a drag that it was so very nearly mine . . .’
Alex gave him a soft look of pain. ‘I’ve forgotten so much. All I have is family as my life raft now. It’s a hollow feeling not knowing where I’ve been since the end of 1917.’
‘How bad was it?’
‘I don’t believe I have enough words or even the right ones to describe life in the trenches. Words . . . well, they’re just not adequate. The physical pain of wounds are the least of it.’ Alex tapped his head. ‘The nightmare is in here. It’s the emotional agony that is the worst. Fear of what’s coming. Fear for one’s families – so many of the brave Tommies I was responsible for were family men, their hearts breaking just a little more each day for the children they knew they’d not hold, or the wife they’d not sleep next to again, the parents they’d never got around to telling how much they loved. And it was all so pointless, Dougie! Our generals have a lot to answer for. An inestimable number of dead and wounded on both sides – in the hundreds of thousands – and for what, I ask you? An obscure village in Flanders on the tip of the Ypres salient! An emotionally disconnected decision-maker at a desk somewhere clearly thought it was a mile or two worth claiming . . .’ He didn’t finish, but gave a sound of growling disgust instead.
Dougie watched him closely. ‘I saw no action, did Mother mention?’
Alex lied, shook his head. ‘I’m glad. You don’t need to share the sort of nightmares I have.’
‘No, Lex. I genuinely wish I could. Finding out my health wasn’t up to it was like being publicly emasculated. Everyone from King’s in my year saw action. It’s actually more traumatising to admit you’re a pen-pusher than to be one of the cheering, rosy-cheeked mob rushing off to be killed.’
‘But that’s the point. It was like a bloody game. My blokes used to toss biscuits and fruit cake across to the German trenches. They’d fling back their goodies in similar spirit. And then some wit was sent a tennis ball and a new sport was invented called “Beat the Boche” and that ball was thrown around across no-man’s-land during the rare quiet times. There was cheering and even bloody scoring! I also heard somewhere that one captain decided he’d lead his men over the top by kicking a rugger ball as far as he could. Hell of a kick, apparently, and he took a riddle of bullets while his men were cheering it into Touch.’ He leaned forward for emphasis. ‘Don’t you see, Dougie? None of us had a clue what we were letting ourselves in for. It was just our duty to defend King and Country, we thought. None of us were trained. I heard a fellow officer quip that the only qualification for officer status was that we could conjugate our Latin verbs and bowl a good off spin.’
Dougie looked back at him, perplexed.
Alex pressed his point. ‘It was nothing to do with ability or even suitability; the army preferred “gentlemen” to professionals: which club you belonged to, how decent your bank account, whether you could quote bloody Keats. Leadership is not an acquired skill – people like us are apparently born with it,’ Alex said, giving a disdainful sigh. ‘Just like we inherently know which knife to use!’
‘You had leadership in spades, Lex.’
‘That’s not the point! I would have been made captain without it and I could have got a cushier job away from the front line. We were young, wide-eyed boys, fresh from punting on university lakes, who were leading butchers and bakers, miners and postmen to certain death, with absolutely no idea what it was all about. No one was checking on us for our leadership in the field, no one tested our abilities or even reviewed our decisions or professionalism. We were gentlemen, therefore we would surely conduct ourselves accordingly. Except war is not fair or gentlemanly, Dougie; it’s not even vaguely sporting.’
Alex stopped speaking to give a harsh laugh. ‘It was damned unsporting for the Germans to keep our tennis ball overnight and send it back with a small rock hidden inside, which killed one of our Tommies.’ He stood and paced. ‘As for the rank and file, they were ordinary chaps dying in the hundreds daily in front of me. I refused to let myself get close to anyone because I knew most of us wouldn’t survive more than a few days.’
‘But you did. You came home.’
‘Yes, I did and I don’t know why. The guilt is overwhelming. I tried damn hard to die, or so it felt at the time. Don’t hold it against me, Dougie. I have nowhere else to go. And after what I’ve seen and experienced, I don’t want to be anywhere else but Larksfell, or believe me I’d leave you and Fern to your title and parties and your enormous bank account, and disappear again. I’ve never had time for any of it – you know that. I’d give it to you but Mother would revolt and I know, and so do you, that Father wanted it this way.’
Dougie nodded, and looked back at his brother with pain in his face. ‘That’s it, though. I hate that you don’t care and still you get it all.’
‘Not all, Dougie. And I was groomed to run the Wynter interests, to take over where Father left off. The family can be sure I have the skills to broaden an already strong empire. You and Fern should get on with that family I hear she wants so much. You will want for nothing.’
‘Nothing except everything that you have, brother. But then what’s new, eh?’ he replied. Dougie shook his head. ‘I wish you no ill. I also wish you hadn’t come home. For the first time in my life I felt I was a man in control of my destiny.’
‘Sorry, old chap.’
Dougie nodded, looking resigned. He stood and shook his brother’s hand. ‘Bye, Lex. I suppose we shall see you for Christmas.’
‘No dou
bt.’ Alex sighed and watched Dougie walk away, squelching on a plum that hadn’t made it through to maturity. And as Alex regretted the pain his survival brought to his brother, he smelled the sweetish fragrance of the squashed fruit with that familiar muskiness he recalled from his happy childhood, and wished with all of his heart he could go back to those days.
17
OCTOBER 1920
Edie sat on the double bed she’d shared with Tom and stroked the soft fabric of the padded chintz eiderdown. It had been one of their wedding gifts from the Levis. Ben’s mother knew the colours that Edie loved; no pinks or lilacs or fairytale hues. No, Dena Levi knew that Edie loved greens and charcoal greys, hints of scarlet or a burst of yellow. Dena had chosen well with this bedspread – a floral design, predominantly sage green with accents of fuchsia and white. She’d loved it immediately but even now she had not lost the notion that with this gift the Levi family were delivering a message. It was likely a paranoid notion but Edie knew they wanted her to always appreciate their sentiment that she was sharing her bed with the wrong man. And the Levi presence would always hover above her marital bed and remind her of this. Although Tom had scoffed at the idea, Edie knew Dena, and maybe Ben’s mother had somehow cursed her marriage. Is that why Tom had disappeared? Was this her punishment for following desire rather than duty?
He will break your heart, her father had warned.
Yes . . . Tom was breaking her heart.
‘Where are you, my darling?’ she whispered as she laid her head down on his pillow and pressed her face to where his had once been, smiling back at her.
She’d remained in hospital for six weeks but had been moving in a stupor, learning to cope with the loss of both her beloved father and husband while fortunately her son strengthened, surprising everyone but Edie.
She didn’t know when she’d agreed for Madeleine to move in with her but Edie accepted now that the Frenchwoman was a divine gift like her son, both of them delivered into her life to keep her sane.
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