In Love and War (33 page)

‘I'm afraid so, but when all this is over perhaps I can tell you then.'

‘I can only imagine what you must have gone through.'

‘What I did was nothing compared to the sacrifice of others.'

‘In my book you're a heroine, Elsie Mead. I'm proud to know you.'

She clapped her hands to her hot cheeks. ‘Now you've embarrassed me, Joe. I did what I was told, most of the time anyway.'

‘You're too modest, my dear.' He selected a sheet of paper with a grunt of satisfaction. ‘The good news is that I've found the farm where the Peeters brothers were sent.' He scribbled the address on the back of an envelope and handed it to her. ‘Merry Christmas, Elsie. I hope and pray that 1918 will see the end of this terrible war and Europe will start to heal its wounds.'

Gerda had been invited to spend Christmas Day with a Belgian family who had rooms in Hackney, which left Elsie to spend the day alone in the flat. With her corned beef sandwich in one hand, she leafed through the train timetable that Felicia kept by the telephone. It was a humble Christmas lunch, but she knew that it was probably much better fare than the troops were having in the trenches. The truce that had happened in the first Christmas of the war had never been repeated, and the use of poison gas had hardened attitudes on both sides. Elsie had wept when she read accounts of the suffering caused by the evil new weapon, which killed indiscriminately or left the survivors with terrible after-effects. She wondered how many of the boys she had grown up with had survived the carnage. She could still remember them on that hot summer's day, marching off to war, singing at the tops of their voices. How many of them were singing now? It was a sobering thought and she realised that she had lost her appetite. She put her sandwich down, half eaten, and made a note of the train times to Southampton. Tomorrow she would set off for the farm where Valentine's sons had been billeted. It was the least she could do for a brave woman who risked her life daily to relieve the suffering of others. But for Valentine Guy would not have survived, and she must have been instrumental in getting Marianne back to the comparative safety of Paris. Valentine was the real heroine of the war as far as Elsie was concerned.

She set off early next morning and caught the first train to Southampton. After an hour or so she managed to get a bus to the village, and having asked directions from the bus conductor she walked to the farm, arriving tired and muddy but determined to find Valentine's boys. She entered the yard and was greeted by one of the farm dogs. It jumped up at her yelping excitedly and she was making a fuss of it when a young man stepped out of one of the outbuildings. He came towards her with a smile that reminded her forcibly of Valentine, and she knew she had come to the right place.

She spent a couple of hours in the warmth of the farmhouse kitchen, regaling Jens and Yannick with stories of her time in the Merchant's House, and they listened avidly. ‘I can't wait to go home and see my mother and Hendrick,' Yannick said, blinking back tears. ‘I was little more than a boy when we were forced to flee from our country.'

‘We were lucky,' Jens said firmly. ‘We have been treated like family and I always wanted to be a farmer.'

Yannick nudged his brother in the ribs. ‘And he's engaged to the farmer's daughter, so his future is assured.'

‘That is true,' Jens said, grinning. ‘I will be taking my bride home to meet Mother when the war is over.'

‘She is a wonderful woman,' Elsie said earnestly. ‘It was a privilege to work with her, and I wish I could tell you more, but all I can say is that you should be very proud of her. She's a true heroine.' She stood up, reaching for her handbag. ‘Now I have to leave or I'll miss my train home.'

Jens leapt to his feet. ‘I'll drive you to the station, miss.'

‘Thank you.' Elsie leaned over to kiss Yannick on the cheek. ‘Give your mother my love when you return home. Tell her I'll always remember the Merchant's House and the time we spent with her.'

She followed Jens out of the farmhouse into the freezing cold of a winter's day. He helped her up onto the driver's seat of the farm cart and climbed up beside her. ‘Looks like snow,' he said cheerfully. ‘Let's hope the trains keep running.'

‘Thank you for that cheerful thought,' Elsie said, chuckling. ‘I can tell that you spent a lot of time with Hendrick when you were young. You have a similar gallows humour.'

Jens shot her a puzzled look. ‘I don't understand.'

‘Ask your fiancée, she'll explain.' Elsie pulled her collar up around her face in an attempt to keep out the cold. ‘I'm so glad we met, and that I could tell you a little of the work your mother is doing, and Hendrick too. I hope to see them again one day, if only to thank them both. You will tell her that when you next see her, won't you?'

He flicked the reins to encourage the old carthorse to go faster. ‘Of course I will, and I hope it will be soon.'

Elsie said goodbye to him when he dropped her off outside the station. It was bitterly cold and there was no fire in the waiting room. Coal, like everything else, was in short supply and had been rationed by the number of rooms a family had in its house, or so Bailey had told her grimly when she had asked for some to be sent up to the flat. But the trains were still running and eventually one arrived at the station, and although it was crowded she managed to find a seat. At least it was warm in the compartment and she had the satisfaction of knowing that she had kept her word to Valentine.

It was early evening when she arrived home. She let herself into the flat and was met by an excited Gerda. ‘I'm so glad you're here. There's a gentleman waiting for you in the drawing room.'

FOR A WILD
moment Elsie thought it must be Guy who had been granted unexpected leave. She rushed into the drawing room unbuttoning her coat, and came to a sudden halt. ‘Colonel Winter.' She could barely remember the last time she had seen Marianne's father, but on the few occasions she had spotted him in the grounds of Darcy Hall, or striding through the village, he had always been an impressive figure with his upright military bearing and authoritative manner. His fair hair was streaked with silver as was his moustache, and his chiselled, sun-tanned features might have graced an ancient coin bearing the head of a Roman emperor. Elsie had always been in awe of Colonel James Winter and that feeling remained.

‘Elsie Mead.' He gave her a tired smile. ‘You've grown up.'

She noted the lines at the corners of his startlingly blue eyes and the downturn of his lips, which had thinned with age. ‘I have, sir.' She shrugged off her coat. ‘If you've come to see Marianne, I'm afraid she's not here.'

He inclined his head. ‘I only arrived back in England a few days ago. I went straight to Darcy Hall and my brother told me that Marianne was working in London and this was the address he gave me, although they had lost touch. My sister-in-law, who loves to gossip, told me that you'd accompanied her to London.'

‘That's not exactly true, sir.' Elsie took off her hat and gloves and laid them on a side table. ‘I couldn't find work locally so I came to London of my own accord. It was by chance that I met Marianne again.'

‘I see. Well, Josephine is inclined to get things wrong. Anyway, I haven't heard from Marianne for a very long time and I'm worried.'

‘Won't you sit down, sir? Perhaps you'd like some tea?'

‘No, thank you.' He hesitated, clearing his throat noisily. ‘Marianne was never a good correspondent, but I really do need to contact her.'

‘That might be difficult, sir.'

‘I have some sad news that I need to tell her in person.'

‘It's not up to me to divulge her whereabouts, sir. I'm sorry.'

He sank down on a chair by the empty grate. ‘I wouldn't ask, but this is something that can't wait. Please tell me where I might contact my daughter.'

His obvious distress went straight to her heart and she relented. ‘I don't suppose I should be telling you this, but Marianne is in Paris, and she's doing top secret work. That's all I can say.'

He recoiled as if she had struck him across the face, and making a quick recovery he threw back his head and laughed. ‘Marianne is working for Military Intelligence?'

She laid her finger on her lips, glancing at the open door, but there was no sign of Gerda. ‘Not so loud, sir. It really is hush-hush.'

‘You seem to know a lot about it.'

‘I was with Marianne in Paris. We worked together, but we became separated and I returned home. Now I work at the War Office as a translator.'

‘I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound patronising, Elsie. It's rather a shock to return to England after all these years abroad to find that my only child is employed by the secret service.'

Elsie crossed the floor to the cocktail cabinet and took out the bottle of Calvados that Felicia had brought back from her last trip to France. There was not much left but she poured a generous measure into a brandy glass and handed it to the colonel. ‘Marianne is hardly a child now, sir. She's a woman with a mind of her own, but as far as I know she's safe and well.'

‘Thank you.' He took the glass from her and sipped the fiery apple brandy. ‘Won't you join me, Elsie?'

She shook her head. ‘I've been travelling all day and I haven't eaten for hours. It would go straight to my head. Will you be staying for supper? I'm sure that Gerda could rustle something up, although it won't be much.'

‘Thank you, but I should be getting back to my hotel.' He took another sip of his drink. ‘I must see Marianne . . .' He hesitated, staring into the glass. ‘It's a personal matter.'

‘I'm afraid I can't help you any further, sir.'

He raised his head. ‘A few weeks ago my wife contracted a particularly virulent form of malaria. I need to see Marianne to tell her of her mother's death.'

‘I'm so sorry.'

‘It was very sudden, and a terrible shock. I didn't want to send a telegram, and anyway the only address I had for my daughter was Darcy Hall.' He drained his glass. ‘You of all people will understand how much this will affect Marianne.'

‘I know how I felt when Ma died.'

‘My sister-in-law was eager to fill me in on everything that had happened since I was last in Sutton Darcy. I'm sorry for your loss, my dear. Your mother was a lovely woman. I knew her well, as I did your father, of course.'

Elsie nodded wordlessly.

‘I need to break the news to Marianne in person, if only to make up for the years when I wasn't there to be a father to her.' He bowed his head. ‘Maybe it's too late, but I must try.'

‘I think she's staying in the Bellaires' apartment in the rue de l'Echelle,' Elsie said softly.

He breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you, that's all I need to know. Now all I have to do is persuade the powers that be to give me a command in France. I put in for a transfer while I was still in Delhi and I intend to follow it up vigorously. I still have a few friends in high places.'

‘So you'll go to Paris and see Marianne?'

‘I will.' He rose to his feet. ‘I'll keep your name out of this, so don't worry.' He held out his hand. ‘Your mother would be proud of you if she could see you now.'

‘And my father too, I hope.' She placed her hand in his and he held it in a warm grasp.

‘Corporal Mead was a good man and a good soldier.'

Elsie had just seen the colonel off when the telephone shrilled, making her jump. She glanced at the elegant grandmother clock in the entrance hall and frowned. It was half past nine at night, rather late for a social call, and she was tired. She hurried into the drawing room and picked up the receiver. ‘Hello.'

‘Elsie darling, I'm sorry to ring so late, but I've only just come off duty.'

The sound of his voice made her spirits rise and she was suddenly wide awake. ‘Don't apologise, Guy. You could telephone at midnight and I'd be thrilled to hear your voice.'

‘Darling, I'll have to be brief. There's no easy way to tell you this, but I'm being posted abroad.'

‘What?' The line was crackly and she thought she must have misheard. ‘Say that again, Guy.'

‘I know it's short notice and I can't tell you anything more over the phone, but I'll be aide de camp to the colonel of my old regiment.'

‘But you promised you wouldn't risk your life again. You've done enough, Guy.'

‘I can't sit the war out in relative safety while my friends are risking their necks to bring about the end to this God-awful conflict.'

‘But you're not fit enough,' she murmured dazedly.

‘They need trained men, Elsie. I might not be able to fight in the front line but I can still do my bit and prove to myself that I'm not just a pen-pusher. You do understand, don't you?'

She was about to argue but the pips blared in her ear. ‘Guy, can you hear me?'

‘I'm sorry, darling. I haven't got any more change . . .' The line went dead.

Elsie replaced the receiver, struggling to cope with the idea that Guy would be mad enough to want to return to the battlefield. No matter what he said she knew that he would face the same dangers as the rest of his brigade. She sat down in the chair so recently vacated by Colonel Winter, staring into the empty grate. She shivered, but it was too late to light a fire and anyway it would be a shocking waste of coal. Suddenly she was angry. Men had it all their own way, leaving women to pick up the pieces. Guy had almost given his life for his country once and now he seemed to be prepared to do it all over again.

She jumped to her feet, pacing the room with her hands clasped tightly behind her back. Felicia was doing her bit in France or Flanders and Anthea was whizzing around the country on her motorcycle, doing something active and worthwhile. Their efforts made sitting in a comfortable office translating documents into English seem quite feeble. She looked up as Gerda put her head round the door. ‘Is there anything I can get for you, miss?'