After the War Is Over (7 page)

How fortunate we were who still had hope I did not then realize; I could not know
how soon the time would come when we should have no more hope, and yet be unable to
die.

—Vera Brittain,
Testament of Youth
(1933)

The Earl of Cumberland

requests the pleasure of your company

at the marriage of his sister

Lady Elizabeth Adelaide Sophia Georgiana Neville-Ashford

to

Mr. Robert Graham Fraser

The Church of Saint Mary Magdalene

Haverthwaite, Cumbria

Saturday, the seventh of June

One thousand nine hundred and nineteen

Eleven o’clock in the morning

Breakfast to follow

Cumbermere Hall

A
t exactly eleven o’clock, the landau glided to a halt in front of the ancient parish
church of St. Mary Magdalene. Charlotte waited for the footman to help Edward and
Lilly descend, then came forward to embrace the bride.

“You look beautiful,” she said truthfully. “Let me straighten your gown and veil before
we go in.”

Charlotte handed her bouquet of sweet peas and damask roses, a smaller version of
Lilly’s, to the waiting footman. “There aren’t any creases to speak of,” she observed
as she smoothed and adjusted the folds of the bride’s simple handkerchief linen gown.
Her own pale blue frock was similar, though it lacked the drawn-thread and white-work
embroidery of the bride’s, and instead had bands of organdy insertion at its middy
collar and sleeves.

“How is Robbie?” Lilly asked. “Does he seem nervous?”

“If he isn’t, he should be,” Edward answered. “Marrying into our lot . . . God help
him.” For a moment Charlotte wasn’t certain if he was jesting or not, but then he
smiled and she was reassured.

“What are you waiting for? Take her arm and go on in,” Charlotte told him. She took
her bouquet back from the footman, followed them inside, and waited for the music
to begin.

First the swelling chords of the organ, and then the voices of the village choir,
singing a newer anthem that was a favorite of Lilly’s.
“I was glad,”
they sang.
“Glad when they said unto me: we will go unto the house of the Lord.”

The congregation rose to its feet as Lilly and Edward stepped forward into the modest
nave, Charlotte a few steps behind. She could just spy Robbie, standing alone at the
front; once Edward had escorted his sister into the church, he would move to his friend’s
side as his supporter.

Robbie looked terribly handsome in his kilt and doublet, smiling broadly as his bride
approached, and for perhaps the thousandth time Charlotte thanked heaven that both
he and Lilly, and their love for each other, had survived the war.

The little church was full of Cumberland relations, although the bride and groom had
insisted, and in this had
been supported by Edward, that their friends be invited as well. Charlotte had met
most of them the night before, at the prenuptial dinner at Cumbermere Hall, and found
them an entertaining and friendly group, in particular Lilly’s former colleagues from
the WAAC.

By way of family Robbie had only his mother and several cousins present, though at
least a dozen colleagues from the hospital in London had come north for the occasion,
as well as friends from his days in the RAMC. Mrs. Fraser, whom Charlotte had found
very warm and motherly, but also terribly shy, was doing her best to enjoy the occasion,
though the poor woman likely wouldn’t feel herself again until she was back home in
Scotland. Cumbermere Hall and its occupants had that effect on most people.

Charlotte stood at the front as the service began, ready to assist Lilly, and though
she ought to have been listening to the vicar’s welcoming remarks, she couldn’t help
but cast her eye over the occupants of the Cumberland family pew. Lilly’s mother,
predictably, had not deigned to lighten her mourning for the occasion, and was dressed
head to toe in deadening black, while Lilly’s sisters wore complementary shades of
mauve. All three bore the same expression of mild disgust, which made them appear
as if they had smelled something very disagreeable but had no notion of what to do
about it.

Sitting at the end of the pew, her pretty face wreathed in smiles, was Lady Helena.
Charlotte had spoken with her the evening before, though only for a few minutes, and
had found her pleasant, thoughtful, and surprisingly curious about Charlotte’s work
in Liverpool. She seemed a timid girl, constantly looking to Edward for reassurance,
though Charlotte could see no evidence of the venality that so stained the character
of Lilly’s sisters. It would take a sturdy soul indeed to withstand life among the
Cumberland women, Lilly excepted, and Charlotte rather feared that Lady Helena wouldn’t
be equal to it. Not, of course, that it was any of her affair.

The service flew by in what felt like seconds: the exchange of vows, with Lilly’s
soft voice faltering near the end; the hymn “Now Thank We All Our God”; the first
lesson, read by Lilly’s friend Constance Evans, one of the WAACs she’d known in France.
Then the psalm, sung beautifully by the choir; the second lesson, read by Colonel
Lewis, who had commanded the clearing hospital where Robbie and Lilly had worked;
and a mealymouthed homily by the vicar, who was new to the parish and entirely unequal
to the occasion. And, last, a moment of peace in the Lady Chapel, as she and Edward
witnessed the marriage register, and Robbie, embracing his wife, bent his head so
he might hear her whispered thoughts.

They assembled before the altar, ready to depart, but instead of the expected chords
from the organ, a surprise: the rising, skirling notes of a single piper outside the
church. They all looked to Edward.

“How could I not?” he confessed. “It will give Mama indigestion for
days
.”

Outside the sun was shining, the sky was a perfect shade of blue, and a crowd of well-wishers
from the village was waiting to cheer the bride and groom. Lady Cumberland and her
daughters and sons-in-law, together with the ever-obedient George, retreated to their
carriages, not troubling to offer a word of congratulations to the wedded couple.

Charlotte watched Edward’s face as his family’s carriages moved away, but he betrayed
no sign of annoyance or disappointment. It wasn’t as if such behavior was unexpected,
after all.

He was squinting in the sunlight, his free hand shielding his eyes, and although he
looked well enough in his morning suit, he was still far too thin. He had shadows
under his eyes, dark smudges that gave wordless evidence of late nights and lost sleep.

“Are you—” she began, but he smiled at her and squeezed her arm fraternally.

“Shall we be off? I’m bound to take longer than everyone else. Ought to have brought
my cane.”

“I’ll hold tight,” she offered, and was immediately horrified by her boldness. What
if he thought . . . ?

“That’s very kind of you, but I had better offer my arm to Mrs. Fraser. My tiresome
relations didn’t think to offer her a ride back in the carriages, so I had best see
to her. And I suppose Helena will wish to walk with me. You’ll be all right, won’t
you?”

“Of course. I’ll walk back with Lilly’s other friends.”

“Then I shall see you back at the hall.”

She watched as he went over to Lady Helena, who really was looking very pretty, and
detached her from the group of Cumberland cousins with whom she’d been speaking. He
then approached Mrs. Fraser and said something that made her smile from ear to ear.
She offered her arm and he set off with the two women, his pace measured and precise,
along the graveled path that led back to Cumbermere Hall.

Feeling a bit like a bump on a log, Charlotte walked over to Lilly’s friends from
the WAAC—Constance, Bridget, and Annie—all of whom she had met for the first time
the afternoon before. Most of the wedding guests, with the exception of immediate
family and Mrs. Fraser, were staying at the Haverthwaite Arms, the village’s modest
inn. Lady Cumberland had
refused to countenance hosting everyone at the hall, insisting that she was still
too overwrought by the loss of her husband to bear the ordeal of having strangers
under her roof.

Charlotte had been relieved to be at a distance, even if it meant she saw less of
Lilly over the wedding weekend than she would have liked. As the inn was small, she
was sharing a room with Constance, whom she liked enormously.

“Hello, ladies,” she greeted the women. “Shall we make our way back to the hall for
the wedding breakfast?”

“Would love to know why they call it breakfast when it’s nigh on half past twelve,”
Annie grumbled. “Shouldn’t it be the wedding dinner?”

“Hush, you,” said Bridget. “Quit your mithering.”

“I hope this breakfast is easier to make sense of than that dinner last night. Had
no idea which fork to use—there were that many of them. Made a right pillock of meself.”

“You did nothing of the sort,” Charlotte reassured her.

“Was it me, or was Lady Cumberland looking daggers at all of us?” asked Constance
worriedly.

“She looked at me like I was something nasty she’d stepped in,” said Annie. “Gave
me a turn, it did.”

“She makes everyone feel like that,” Charlotte explained. “It’s nothing you did, I
promise. If Mr. Lloyd George himself were to join us, she would treat him much the
same. Besides, you mustn’t let her ruin your fun. Edward—Lord Cumberland, that is—is
delighted to have you here. He told me so himself.”

“He did, did he?” said Bridget with a naughty wink. “Too bad I’m engaged to my Gordon
already, otherwise I’d give him a look-in, if you know what I mean. Talks so nice,
and he’s ever so handsome. Shame about the tin leg, though.”

“Bridget Gallagher! He might hear you,” said Constance, pulling at her friend’s sleeve.

“He’s not the sort to mind. His mum would fall over, though. Wouldn’t that be a sight?
Her having to call for her smelling salts!”

“And what would that do to Lilly’s wedding?” said Constance. “Behave yourselves, or
I’ll tell Colonel Lewis, I will.”

Simply the notion of being dressed down by their former OC had a leveling effect on
Annie and Bridget, who were content thereafter to talk about their lives after their
discharge from the WAAC.

“We’re both at Brandauer’s, making pen nibs, right where we was before the war,” Annie
told Charlotte.

“In Birmingham, yes?”

“Hockley. Never thought I’d miss it, back when I joined the WAAC, but I was glad to
come home.”

“At the factory—they didn’t give your jobs away to the men?”

“Nah,” said Bridget. “Stamping nibs is women’s work. Pay is good, too, though we don’t
get near as much as the men.”

“I gather you’re both engaged?”

“We are that,” confirmed Annie.

“And when will the weddings be?”

“No time soon, I hope,” said Bridget. “That’d be an end to work, at least for me.
Gordon is that stubborn, he is, and once the kiddies start coming I’d have no time
for it, anyways. So I’m content to wait awhile.”

“Me, too,” added Annie.

“And what about you, Constance? I believe you said you’re from Peterborough?”

“I am. I’m living with my mum and dad again, just until I
decide what to do. I’ll probably go back to being a clerk somewhere. I did love the
driving, but there’s no hope of a job like that now. And Dad would never allow it.”

“Are you still writing to that soldier who landed at the CCS last August?” asked Annie.

“No,” said a blushing Constance, “but only because he’s back in Peterborough as well.
He was an old friend from home,” she explained, turning to Charlotte, “and by some
chance he ended up at our clearing hospital. He wasn’t hurt all that badly, only a
broken arm and some wounds from shell fragments, but it was enough to keep him out
of harm’s way until the end of the war.”

“And now he’s back . . . ?” Charlotte asked.

“He’s back in Peterborough, working at his father’s surveying firm, and we go out
for a long walk every Sunday after church.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, Charlotte, how did you end up working for Lord Cumberland’s
family? I wouldn’t have expected someone with an Oxford degree to become a governess,”
Constance said.

“Nor would I. The truth is that I needed a job and I couldn’t find anything else,
not then. I was very happy with Lilly, though.”

“How long were you here?”

“Four years. I started in 1907, when Lilly was just fourteen, and I left when she
made her debut. That’s when I moved to Liverpool and began to work for Miss Rathbone.”

“The suffragette?” asked Constance.

“She prefers the term ‘suffragist,’” Charlotte clarified. “She’s not only interested
in votes for women, you know. Miss
Rathbone believes all adults are entitled to the vote, no matter how much they earn
or where they live.”

“So if you was working for her, how is it that you and Lilly lived together in London?”
asked Annie.

“I wanted to be doing more for the war effort, so I came to London and trained as
a nurse. Lilly lived with me at Mrs. Collins’s when she was working as a clippie,
and again after she was invalided home.”

“Didn’t Lilly invite Mrs. Collins to the wedding?” asked Constance. “I was sure she
said she had.”

“She did. But Mrs. Collins has never left London, not even for a day at the seaside.
She was too anxious about taking the train up, not to mention leaving the house empty
for a few days. I’m sure Lilly will take over some photographs to show her when she
and Robbie return from their honeymoon.” Charlotte resolved then and there to write
to Mrs. Collins that evening and tell her all about the wedding.

They were through the woods now and following the other guests along the raked gravel
path that led to the back of the great house. A wide, sweeping staircase led to the
second floor, to a large terrace often used for afternoon tea in fine weather. Just
as Charlotte reached the top of the steps, the French doors that ran the length of
the terrace were opened and Mr. Maxwell, the Cumberland family’s butler for many years,
stepped outside.