“So what about ARP wardens and a first-aid station?” Diedre reminded them.
“I like it,” Paloma said.
“So do I,” Cecily agreed.
“Then let’s put it all in the works. I’ll talk to Papa and Charlotte later, and Mrs. Alice. She—” Daphne paused, her eyes on the door, where Lane, the head butler, was standing.
“Yes, Lane?”
“Sorry to interrupt, your ladyship, but there is a telephone call for Mrs. Miles.”
“Thank you, Lane,” Daphne answered.
Cecily was on her feet immediately, and excused herself. She hurried out, hoping there wasn’t something wrong at one of the clothing factories in Leeds. They were working overtime, on weekends at the moment, producing overcoats for the troops, proof to her the British government expected it to be a long war.
When she went out into the entrance hall, Charlotte was standing there. An anxious expression had settled on her face.
“Whatever is it?” Cecily asked, hurrying over to her.
“It’s Great-Aunt Gwendolyn. Peggy just telephoned me. Apparently, Great-Aunt Gwen has been asking for me and for you also. She hasn’t been herself for the last few days. I think we had better go to her at once.”
Cecily nodded, her face solemn. They walked out of Cavendon and followed the path through the park without speaking.
* * *
Peggy Swift, once Daphne’s lady’s maid, now the wife of Gordon Lane, was devoted to the entire family. She greeted them at the door of Little Skell Manor.
“Your ladyship, Mrs. Miles, come in, please.” She opened the front door wider, and they went into the house.
Charlotte asked, “Where is Lady Gwendolyn, Peggy?”
“In the sitting room, m’lady. She insisted on getting up this morning and getting dressed. I did her hair, and she put on lipstick and rouge like she always does. Herself. Then she asked me to bring you to her. She needs to speak with you both, she told me.”
Cecily glanced at Charlotte and touched her arm gently, so that she went in first. Cecily followed and closed the door behind her.
Lady Gwendolyn was sitting in her favorite chair. Cecily noticed at once that she was wearing one of her favorite Cecily Swann frocks. Purple silk with a frothy chiffon jabot at the front. She had also put on pearl earrings which they both knew had been given to her many years ago by Mark Swann.
When she saw them, she said in a clear, light voice, “How lovely to see my two very dearest Swanns. Whatever would the Inghams have done without the Swanns? Not been as happy, I suspect. Sit down here, next to me.”
They did as she asked, taking a chair on either side of her.
Charlotte said, “How do you feel, Great-Aunt Gwendolyn?”
“I feel all right. But I also feel ready, if you know what I mean?”
Cecily gazed at her lovingly, reached out and took hold of her hand. “Ready to go? Is that what you mean? After all, you do look as if you’re going somewhere, wearing your best purple dress, which I made especially for you.”
“And Mark’s pearl earrings.” Lady Gwendolyn now stretched out her left hand, added, “And his wedding ring. We felt we were married though we weren’t, you see. Don’t let anyone take it off my finger, Charlotte, will you?”
“I won’t,” Charlotte promised, swallowing. She was endeavoring to contain her emotions; her throat was tight and she was choked up inside. Her admiration for Cecily knew no bounds. She was talking to Great-Aunt Gwen in a calm, untroubled voice, as if they were just having a little chat about not very important matters.
“The suitcases over there, Great-Aunt Gwen … are they going with you?” Cecily asked, trying to be a little lighthearted under difficult circumstances.
“Don’t be silly. They’re labeled. There is one for Margaret.” As she spoke she freed her hands, fumbled with her handbag on her lap. “These are the keys,” she said, handing an envelope to Charlotte.
“So we’re to give the suitcases to other people, as well as Margaret,” Cecily asserted.
Lady Gwendolyn nodded. “There’s one for you, and you, too, Charlotte.” Leaning back in the chair, she closed her eyes for a few minutes. When she opened them she continued, “I’m sorry I won’t make my birthday party. Celebrate anyway, won’t you? I’d like that.”
“Yes, we’ll toast you to the heavens,” Cecily promised, her voice suddenly wobbling.
“We’ll sing for you,” Charlotte managed to say, her own voice choked.
Lady Gwendolyn looked at Cecily, and then more intently at Charlotte. She smiled at her. “Thank you for so lovingly devoting your life to the Inghams.” Turning to Cecily, she went on, “And you, too. You saved the family as only a Swann could. With immense cleverness.” The smile lingered on her face. “You’ll do, Ceci. No one better. And if that baby you’re carrying is a girl, would you call her after me?”
“I will,” Cecily said, her eyes filling with tears. She took hold of Lady Gwendolyn’s hand and Charlotte reached for the other. They sat there for a while, filled with love for their matriarch, relieved they were with her at this time.
Quite unexpectedly, Lady Gwendolyn bestirred herself, sat up a little straighter. “I got dressed this morning so that you can say later that I died with my boots on.”
Cecily said, “Oh, Great-Aunt Gwen, try to keep going, you sound so much better, stronger, almost like your old self. Please don’t leave us yet. Stay a little longer. Try.”
Lady Gwendolyn’s face was filled with sudden radiance, and her eyes were the most brilliant blue. “Mark is waiting for me…” She looked off into the distance as if she could see him and she smiled. There was a little guttural noise in her throat followed by a long sigh.
Cecily knew she had just heard the death rattle. “She’s gone, Aunt Charlotte … gone to Mark, whom she really believes is waiting for her.”
Charlotte did not respond for a moment; when she did her voice was quavering. “I expect he is. She’s usually right.” Rising, Charlotte bent over Lady Gwendolyn and smoothed back her silver hair, kissed her forehead.
Cecily did the same, and then gently closed each eyelid. As she did this, she murmured to Charlotte, “I’ve never seen her eyes so blue or her face as radiant.”
“She was happy,” Charlotte murmured in a voice so low Cecily could hardly hear it.
* * *
They left the sitting room and found Peggy waiting in the small library across the hall.
Cecily said, “Lady Gwendolyn has just passed away, and very peacefully, Peggy.”
“I’ve been expecting it,” Peggy answered, her face full of sadness, her eyes moist. Clearing her throat, Peggy said, “We can’t leave her ladyship in the chair, Mrs. Miles. We have to carry her upstairs and lay her on the bed.”
“Do you think you and I can manage that?” Cecily asked, giving Peggy a pointed look. “Can we carry her?”
“I think so. I will go and get a sheet and we can put it around her.” Peggy started to leave and paused. “I think you ought to call Mrs. Alice, ask her to come and help us.”
“Good idea.” Cecily reached for the phone and dialed her mother.
“It’s me, Mam,” Cecily said quietly, when Alice answered. “Aunt Charlotte and I are with Great-Aunt Gwen, she wanted to see us. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but she just passed away. Can you come?”
“Immediately,” her mother said, and the phone went dead.
“She’s on her way,” Cecily told Peggy. “She’ll be here in a couple of minutes. Could you get the sheet please, Peggy?”
Peggy simply nodded and left.
Walking across the room, Cecily sat down next to Charlotte on the sofa. “Are you all right?” she asked, peering into her face. “Sorrowful, I know, as I am, though we did expect it.”
“Yes, we did,” Charlotte answered in a steadier voice. “But she’s looked so well. And it’s always a shock when a loved one dies, even when they’re very old.”
“Ninety-nine year
s old, just imagine that.” Cecily then gave Charlotte a questioning look. “Whatever can those suitcases contain? It’s a very weird thing for her to do.”
Charlotte was silent for a moment, then explained. “She told me about them a few weeks ago. There’s one for each of the Four Dees. And you and me, as she told you, and Margaret. There’s also one for your father. They’re small suitcases, Ceci. There can’t be much in them.”
“I suppose she’s given us all the things she wanted us to have in memory of her.”
“I agree and I must telephone Charles, ask him to come here.”
“Yes, you must. And I have to speak to Miles. But first we have to carry Great-Aunt Gwendolyn’s body upstairs. Make her look nice on the bed.”
The front door opened and Cecily went out into the hall. Alice Swann was coming in, and she reached for her daughter immediately, held her close. “I knew it was going to be any day now,” Alice said through her sudden tears. “I’m sure it was a peaceful passing, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, Mam, it was … she was happy.”
Peggy was running down the stairs carrying white linen sheets, and greeted Alice. “I thought we should wrap her in these clean sheets and take the body upstairs to her bedroom.”
Alice agreed, then looked at Cecily. “Where is Lady Gwen? I would like to see her, say good-bye.”
“In here.” Cecily led her mother into the sitting room.
* * *
The members of the family who had come from London stayed on, did not return to the city. Trains ran late, were often jammed with troops, and petrol coupons were short. It was difficult to travel these days.
Daphne’s twin sons, Thomas and Andrew, now twenty, did not come home from Sandhurst, where they were undergoing officer training. Nor did Alicia. She was working hard for the Red Cross in London.
Harry Swann could not get compassionate leave from the RAF in Manston, the southern airfield where he was stationed. Charlie was not allowed to travel because of his wounds.
Lady Gwendolyn Ingham Baildon, matriarch of the Ingham family, was beloved by everyone in the three villages. They were invited to attend her funeral alongside her family, which was to be held at the large church in Little Skell village. It was termed a private funeral, as she had so wished.
Charlotte and Daphne did the flower arrangements for the church and they were magnificent. On the day of the funeral service, three days after her death of heart failure, the sun was shining brightly in a pale blue sky.
The family arrived together and eight of the earl’s twelve grandchildren were present.
Lord Mowbray spoke first. He was then followed by Miles, his heir, and finally by his eldest daughter, Diedre, who said she spoke on behalf of her sisters as well as herself. After saying a few laudatory words, she recited the Twenty-third Psalm: The Lord Is My Shepherd.
By popular request within the family, it was James Brentwood who gave the eulogy. The church became very still when he spoke. No one wanted to miss a word, since it was England’s greatest actor standing in their pulpit. His mellifluous voice rang out crystal clear and beautiful, reaching to the rafters. He spoke lovingly of the incomparable Lady Gwen, as she was so affectionately known by everyone. He spoke of her warmth, generosity, and kindness, and even touched on her spirited bluntness and frequently acerbic wit.
He ended his eulogy by asking for their indulgence, explaining that he wished to sing for them. “It was her most favorite song of all, and so patriotic. And therefore eminently suitable for the world we live in today. I will be accompanied on the piano by my niece, Lady Daphne’s daughter Annabel.”
He glanced over at the sixteen-year-old and nodded. She smiled at him, looked at the keys, and struck the first chord.
James had a marvelous voice. He was a tenor, and he sang with confidence.
Land of Hope and Glory, Mother of the Free,
How shall we extol thee, who are born of thee?
Wider still and wider shall thy bounds be set;
God who made thee mighty, make thee mightier yet.
God who made thee mighty, make thee mightier yet.
Nothing stirred; there was not a single sound after James finished the song. It seemed to him that the congregation was frozen in place.
And he knew that Lady Gwen was surely looking down and smiling.
Fifty-five
“Now, Victoria, let me look at you,” Alice Swann said, smiling at the ten-year-old. “You’re very bonny in that frock. It suits you. I’m glad I cut it down to your size.”
A rare smile flickered on the child’s face, and she said, “I like yellow. It’s my favorite color.”
Alice took the canvas bag off the kitchen table and put it on Victoria’s shoulder, then pulled the strap across her body. “There we are, it’s more comfortable like that.”
Victoria looked at her warily, and asked, “Do I really have to take the gas mask with me, Mrs. Alice?”
“Yes, you do, and I have to take mine.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the rule now, we can’t go far without our gas masks. Everybody has one.”
Victoria was thoughtful for a moment or two and then asked, “Do the king and queen have to take theirs when they go out? And Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret Rose? Oh and Churchill?”
“Absolutely!” Alice exclaimed, smiling inwardly because Victoria had mentioned those people she was interested in the most, whom she only knew about through her frequent comments about them.
“It’s for our safety, to protect us,” Alice explained. “Just let me look in my handbag to make sure I have our identity cards, ration books, clothes coupon books, in case we can find a nice pair of shoes for you in Leeds. You do need some new shoes for the winter.”
“Leeds!” Victoria cried, her voice rising shrilly. “No, no, no! I don’t want to go to Leeds. I won’t go.”
Alice was so taken aback by this outburst, and the vehemence of it, she was startled. Victoria had never raised her voice before. The child’s reaction had been so strong, and even fearful, that Alice now knew it was there she had been hurt. By someone.
Unexpectedly, Victoria began to weep. She just stood there in the middle of the kitchen, clutching the strap of the gas mask case and gazing at Alice helplessly, tears rolling down her cheeks.
Alice Swann had always been decisive, and she immediately went to the child, took off the gas mask, and gave her a handkerchief. “Stop crying, love, we don’t have to go to Leeds. We can go to Harrogate. Next week.”
Reaching for her, she drew the little girl into her arms and held her close, stroked her hair. “There, there, you mustn’t be frightened, Victoria. I won’t let anyone hurt you—” Alice stopped when she saw Paloma standing in the doorway, holding Edward in her arms.
Alice gave her a warning look, and said, “Hello, Paloma. Fancy that, I was just thinking of coming to see you. We were about to go shopping for a pair of shoes for Victoria. Winter shoes. And then I decided it was a silly idea since it’s still summer.”
Paloma picked up on the situation immediately. “That’s a coincidence, Alice. I came over to invite you and Victoria to have lunch with me. I’ve made a cottage pie.”
Smiling at her daughter-in-law, while smoothing her hand over Victoria’s back soothingly, Alice said, “Victoria loves cottage pie, don’t you?”
Moving slightly away from her, Alice added, “And we can take some pictures with the new camera Mr. Walter gave you.”
“Oh yes,” Victoria said, instantly cheering up, smiling at Paloma. “Can I take a picture of Edward?”
“That would be nice and I will send it to his father. What a kind thought, Victoria.”
“Let’s go then, shall we?” Alice murmured, and putting her arm around her little evacuee, she ushered her outside.
Paloma said, “Harry phoned me this morning. He sends his love to you and his father. He’s well. And enjoying learning so much about radar, too. What a godsend that is, the way it
protects our coastline.”
“Miles explained it to me. Oh and by the way, Miles told me we have to have two buckets in every household, to hold various things.”
Throwing her a curious look, Paloma said, “What sort of things?”
“Metal. Most important. Tin cans that contained food, bottle caps, old nails, buckles cut off old belts, any old tools, hairpins, picture hooks, just about anything made of metal. Ted Swann will come and collect the metal once a week.”
“What is all this metal for?” Paloma asked.
“The government needs it, and they will come and pick it up from the three villages. It’s shipped to a factory and everything gets melted down. To make planes, guns, tanks, ships, and ammunition.”
Alice laughed at the expression on Paloma’s face as they crossed the village street to Charlotte’s House. “Haven’t you seen the posters in Harrogate? It’s of three women holding a flag that says, ‘Up Housewives and at ’em!’ I laughed when I noticed it recently, but Miles says it’s important. The government seriously needs our help.”
“Then I’ll do it. And what’s the second bucket for?”
“Kitchen scraps of food. To feed the chickens and the pigs, and incidentally, Miles is going to buy some pigs.” Alice added swiftly, “Don’t ask about the pigs, please. We’ve had enough problems about lambs.”
* * *
Once they were inside the house, Paloma put Edward in his cot, and insisted that Alice sit down in the chair. After she had done so, Paloma pushed the ottoman closer so that Alice could put her legs up.
“You’re never off your feet,” Paloma said. “I’ve never seen anyone work as hard as you.”
Alice smiled. “Hard work never killed anyone, and I’m used to it, you know. Also, I’ve been running up and down through that park all of my life. My feet are used to it.”
Paloma smiled. “I’d better put the pie in the oven. It’s cooked but it needs warming up. And I’ll open a jar of the peas you gave me.” She glanced at Victoria, who was sitting on a chair near the cot, looking at Edward with great interest. “How does that sound to you?”