London and Leicestershire, mid-August 1916
Loss and revelations
‘Daddy?’ Eloise’s tentative address to her father reflected the morose mood the family had fallen into, since the reality of Andrina’s passing, four weeks ago, had hit them. Unable to stay at their country home with the memory of the tragedy so raw, they had returned to London, but the move hadn’t helped.
Her father was leaning over his desk reading a letter. Looking up, he glanced over his half-glasses at her, but didn’t speak. This unnerved her more than she was already.
‘Daddy, can I talk to you? I want to do something. Being idle is driving me mad!’
‘D – don’t ask me to let you go to France, my dear, I – I cannot.’
‘No, I know, but what about helping with something here? Hospital work, or something at the War Office; anything really. I have a conscience, Daddy, and feel as though I am letting the side down. There isn’t a family we know that hasn’t got somebody – son, daughter, father or even mother – helping the war effort, except us.’
‘I don’t think you can say that. I am involved, as far as I can be, with strategies that have to be discussed in the House of Lords. And of course, your cousins . . . Look, my dear, we will talk about this later. I have news. It – it isn’t good, and I don’t know how to tell your mama. I’m sorry, but I can’t give my attention to your needs at the moment, though there is something I have to discuss that concerns you.’
‘What is it, Father? I mean, the bad news. Oh God, cousins Christian and Douglas are all right, aren’t they?’
‘As far as I know, my dear, but poor Edith isn’t. I haven’t wanted to tell you and your mother before, it was all too much for you, but Uncle Christopher and Aunt Muriel are coming down from the country where they have been since Andrina . . . Well, you see, my dear, it happened on the same day . . . I – I couldn’t tell you, and your aunt and uncle understood, but now, with them being just down the road, I have to. They are distraught, and more so as time goes on.’
‘Oh God! Edith? Why? How?’
Listening to her father shocked and frightened her. Edith dragged off by a demented corporal, who had beaten his superior to death and shot two officers and his fellow soldiers! It all sounded preposterous, but there was no doubt. The corporal had ridden away from the scene of his terrible crimes on a bike. That bike had been found outside Edith’s dormitory tent. Deep ruts in the mud showed that Edith had been dragged. No one knew why she’d dressed and gone out in the rain to him, but she had, and now . . . ‘Oh, Daddy, the world has gone mad. Poor Edith. Is there no news of where she is?’
‘No, I’m afraid there isn’t. I am, of course, doing all I can. I put in a request to get the boys back on leave, and think it may be granted.’
‘Oh, Daddy, I can’t bear it.’
She slumped in the chair just inside her father’s office. Every limb shook, and her stomach churned till she felt she would be sick. This was all impossible. It hadn’t happened. Things like kidnap happened to other people. But one look at her father’s face told her that it was true. Oh God help us, and please help my darling Edith!
‘I asked this of you just four weeks ago, my darling girl, but I have to ask again. Please try to be strong for your mother and, more than anything, for Aunt Muriel and Uncle Christopher. I will do all I can to get Christian and Douglas home for them – well, for us all, really. Don’t cry, darling.’ But as he said the words and rose and came over to her, to hold her in his arms, he too was crying.
Tears seemed so futile and didn’t release the grief and sadness trapped inside Eloise. To her, they only increased the pain, as the loss of her darling sister was still very raw in her heart. The news about Edith only compounded her grief. It seemed the only thing to do was to give up altogether or soldier on. Her father had asked her to do the latter, and she had to, for his sake. He needed help, as he had to be the strong pin that held them all from falling apart. She would give all she had and would stand by him in that.
She released herself from her sobbing father’s arms. ‘We can get through it, Daddy. With your help, we can all get through. I will be there for you and Mama, and my dear aunt and uncle.’ And as she said this, she knew that she had undergone a profound change. She didn’t know when it had happened, but she was a million miles from the girl she used to be, whose head had been full of nothing more than the pursuit of fun, fashion and a marriage partner.
None of those things mattered to her now. Her youth had been peeled from her, layer by painful layer. She was now a woman. A strong woman.
‘Daddy, you said there was something else concerning me?’
‘Yes, dear. It is about Jay.’
She shuddered, and her father said, ‘I know, I hated hearing his name, but I don’t think we can let him shoulder all the blame for what happened. As appalling as it is to acknowledge, it appears Jay and Andrina were in love.’
‘I can’t accept that, Daddy. Andrina was bored; she hated the country life and wanted a distraction. She had a silly crush on Jay. He used that to lure her in deeper than she should have gone. He knew what he was doing. And he must have known Florrie was in love with him, and what she was really like. He must have known what Florrie was capable of. He killed Andrina, just as surely as Florrie did, and he should hang!’
‘My dear, I had no idea you felt like this. You’re wrong – you have to see. Andrina was a headstrong girl. If she set her heart on something, she usually got it. Look, Mama found her diary. It seems she was deeply in love with Jay, but knew it was wrong and hadn’t . . . Well, anyway, it seems that Jay had respected her wishes not to do anything other than meet up and hope, I suppose. Poor d – darling Andrina.’ His voice broke once more.
She resisted the urge to go to him. ‘What do you want me to do, Daddy?’
‘Jay is asking for you. He is very fragile and could still die from his injuries, but this letter from Doctor Jacques, whom I have asked to continue to treat Jay at my expense, says that Jay’s agitation is holding back his recovery. He is very distressed and constantly asks for you.’
‘Do you want me to go to him? What about all that is going on here?’
‘Once Mama sees how strong you are, that will help her. But at the moment there is nothing you can do for your uncle and aunt. I don’t know why, but I can’t bear the thought of Jay dying. It is as if he is family – well, servant family, if you know what I mean. No, he is more than that. I – I can’t say, I mean . . . Anyway, we have to remember that he made dearest Andrina happy. You know, h – he came to us at a very young age, and was always hanging around, helping the gardener of the time. And there is a . . . Oh, I don’t know.’
‘I do, Daddy. You are a wonderful person who cares about people. Naturally you care for someone who has been in your employ for such a long time. I will go to Jay, but not until I have been to see Aunt Muriel and Uncle Christopher and have made sure that Mama is coping.’
‘Thank you, my dear. I will let the doctor know. Just knowing you have consented to come should put Jay’s mind at rest. My dear, will you also call in on his poor mother – I mean, adoptive mother – whilst you are there? Tell her how sorry we are.’
‘I will. Daddy, is there something else troubling you in all this?’
‘Yes, a suspicion. Oh, it’s nothing. I must go and see your dear mama now, Eloise. Forgive me, but I can’t put off telling her the dreadful news any longer. Will you come with me?’
Eloise knew her heart was beating loudly as she waited outside the Feilding Palmer Cottage Hospital male ward, in Lutterworth, a small market town situated about five miles from her home in Leicestershire.
The nurse in attendance was making Jay ‘presentable’, as she put it. How could he be unpresentable?
A cry of pain made her stiffen. It had come from Jay. Eloise felt a moment of pity for him; she was not entirely without sympathy. Since arriving at Rossworth Hall the day before, she had talked to Maggie, the downstairs maid, and found that everyone’s sympathy lay with Jay. Maggie had even said, ‘Begging your pardon, M’lady, and I don’t wish to speak ill of the dead, but Lady Andrina had no right to mix with the servants. It wasn’t her rightful place, and she stepped over the line in doing so.’
Though feeling angry at Maggie, Eloise had known that of course the girl was right. The blame for the liaison had to lie with Andrina, despite what she thought about Jay luring her dear sister. After all, he would never have come to Andrina; she had to go to him. That wasn’t Jay luring her, but more Andrina courting his attention.
These conclusions had helped. It wasn’t nearly as painful to come and see Jay as it would have been had she still blamed him.
This thought had hardly died in her when the door opened. ‘You can come in now, Lady Eloise.’
The smell of carbolic soap hit her as she walked through the door. She’d never been in a hospital ward before, and it seemed she had walked into a room of white when she first glanced around the door. The bed linen and the nurse’s uniform, the bandages around Jay’s head and even the small chair next to the bed were all white. But then she realized that the brick walls were cream and the bottom half of them had green tiles.
Nerves jangled in her stomach. What was she going to say to him? Would he even be able to read her lips, because his head looked as though it was completely covered in bandages, to below his eyes!
‘La – Lady Eloise?’
‘Yes, Jay, it’s me.’
His hand gestured that she should come nearer and she realized he couldn’t see her face. It was silly of her to have spoken until she was nearer the bed and bent over him. Doing that now, she saw that one of his eyes was uncovered. ‘Are you all right, Jay?’
A tear trickled down his cheek. The sight undid her. Her legs gave way, and she abruptly sat down into the chair. But she must not give way to the clogging feeling in her chest. She had to swallow hard and compose herself, otherwise she would drown in the sorrow that had her in its grip. After a moment she stood over Jay again. ‘I’m sorry, Jay, I don’t know what I can do to help you.’
Through his tears he sobbed, ‘Find forgiveness for me. You and – and Lord and Lady Mellor. Please forgive me.’
‘We don’t hold you responsible, Jay. It – it was more Andrina.’
‘No! We—’
‘I know, you were in love. But still, she should have known better than to have started a liaison. You – you are a servant.’
‘I – I shouldn’t be. I should be the rightful owner of Hastleford Hall. I am—’
‘What are you talking about? Your head injury must have sent you out of your proper mind. How can you say such a thing?’
‘My – my mother . . . My adoptive m – mother will tell you. I am a Daverly. I – I was born before Lord Daverly . . . died. I am his son.’
‘Oh God! You really believe this? But it’s impossible. As I understand it, there were no male heirs, and that is why the house went to my aunt. You’re being ridiculous. Aunt Muriel was an only child. I – I mean . . . Look, you have had a head injury; that must have unbalanced you and given you this preposterous idea!’
‘No, it’s true. P – please go and talk to my mother.’
‘Very well, I will. But this is all nonsense, and she will laugh at me. Jay, my aunt’s family is in turmoil. They can’t take this kind of – well, fear that they may lose their country home, on top of all that is happening.’
‘Th – they won’t. I – I just want to prove who I really am. If it had ha – happened before . . . then A – Andrina and I, we could have married. I am no relation to you; only my sister – half-sister – is. She is your aunt by marriage, that’s all.’
Once more his tears began to flow.
‘Don’t torture yourself. I am sure these are thoughts that are visiting you in your weakest moment. I’ll sort it out. Everything will be fine, I promise.’ She caught a small glint of hope in Jay’s eye. But, for her, the thought of any of this being true appalled her.
She didn’t want to open the door of the butcher’s shop. The bell above it clanged as she did so. Mr Tattumby looked up from the task of chopping raw meat, dropped his cleaver and touched his forelock. ‘Good afternoon, Lady Eloise. I expect you’ve come to see Mrs Tattumby?’ Unable to find her voice, she nodded. ‘Come on through, M’lady. Mrs Tattumby is expecting you.’
Dodging the dripping animal limbs hanging around the shop, Eloise followed him. She was surprised by the brightness of the parlour; with its smell of beeswax polish still in the air, it gave a warm welcome. Pretty, hand-embroidered cushions and antimacassars adorned the two brown leather armchairs and matching sofa. The wooden legs and arms of these were carved and shone, so that they had the appearance of a deep lustre. The red-tiled floor had the same gleam, and the scattered rag rugs were of a light beige with intricate patterns of flowers and birds woven into them. They were a thing of beauty, and after greeting Mrs Tattumby and accepting the offer of a cup of tea and cake, Eloise had to comment on them. ‘Did you make those beautiful rugs, Mrs Tattumby? I have never seen such perfection, or indeed any pattern in a rag rug before.’
‘No, Jay made those. He is very clever with his hands, and very intelligent.’
‘Oh?’ She didn’t know what else to say, as this answer was unexpected.
‘Sit down, M’lady. I won’t be a minute.’
When she opened the door to her kitchen, delicious smells of fresh baking wafted through. They gave comfort and said to Eloise that she was a welcome visitor and had been prepared for. She hadn’t realized just how hungry she was, but the aromas tantalized her and she couldn’t wait to eat whatever had been prepared.
‘Here you are, M’lady.’
A plateful of delicious-looking scones lay on a tray with some butter and jam in little pots beside them. A china teapot stood next to these, and two china cups; no doubt the Sunday-best china, and all for her benefit. The gesture touched her and, as she had done many times in the last few weeks, she had to swallow hard. It was funny how small things like this kindness shown to her could trigger her grief.
‘I know why you’re here,’ Mrs Tattumby began. ‘I have wronged Jay. I don’t know how he can forgive me, but he has. You see, I kept from him the truth of his birth and denied him his true place in life.’ Her head sank so far into her neck that it almost rested on her huge bosom. A big lady in every way, including having a large, kind heart, Mrs Tattumby had a round, jolly face that was usually smiling, but now looked crestfallen and full of guilt.
‘Well, if Jay has forgiven you, you should forgive yourself.’
‘I know, but I find it difficult. I never did before . . . what happened. I mean, I always said I would tell him when he reached twenty-five, and he could do what he wanted with the information, but none of this would have happened if I had told him earlier. He wouldn’t have been a servant to anyone and could . . . Well, he could have had your sister’s hand as he wanted to, and no servant girl would have thought of him as hers.’ Again she dropped her head. ‘I’m very sorry. I truly am very sorry. Me and Mr Tattumby have watched you and your sister grow up, and now I am the cause of the terrible circumstances that have come about.’
With an effort she didn’t know she could muster, Eloise took a deep breath and, in the face of this woman’s tears, didn’t let one tear escape from her own eyes. ‘No one is to blame. You couldn’t have seen this as an outcome of keeping a secret. Now please, Mrs Tattumby, tell me: who is Jay, really?’
‘He is the son of the late Lord Daverly of Hastleford Hall and half-brother to Lady Muriel, the present owner. His mother was Lady Amelia Falding.
‘Good gracious – a half-brother of my Aunt Muriel! This cannot be true. And you say that Lady Amelia was his mother? But didn’t she die somewhere abroad when she was very young?’
‘No, she died in the attics of Hastleford Hall in 1891, giving birth to her son.’
‘After my Aunt Muriel was already married and had her own children! I cannot take all of this in. It is preposterous! How can you say such a thing? The scandal!’
‘It’s because of the scandal that it was kept quiet, but it can all be proved. At least, there are folk still alive who could be made to tell the truth. The local doctor at the time did everything the gentry wanted him to do. He is still alive, and no doubt would like to ease his conscience before he dies.’
‘How do you know all this, Mrs Tattumby?’
‘From a manservant – a horrible man called Horace Shepherd. He brought the baby to me, then disappeared. It was said that he stole a lot of the house silver and went off to America, but I know he was paid off. He did a nasty thing. He told me the truth about Jay’s birth.’
‘I think that was an honourable thing to do.’
‘I know it does sound that way, but he was meant to take the baby to an orphanage in London. He was given money to do so, but he said that he thought of me, and the child. He said he’d come to love the child’s mother, and he thought that one day the child should know who he was – and who his mother was. But he would never know, if he was dumped in an orphanage. Then he threatened me never to reveal the secret while the present lord was alive, or I would know the consequences. He suggested that I say the gypsies had left the child on me doorstep.’
‘Why did you keep it secret, after Lord Daverly died, Mrs Tattumby? Why did you accept the child?’
‘God forgive me, but you see, me and Mr Tattumby were childless, and I loved Jay on sight. I couldn’t let that Horace take him to no orphanage. After Horace left, me and Mr Tattumby talked and talked. Should we, shouldn’t we? In the end we decided we had no choice: we had to go along with the tale about the gypsies. It was convenient that they were in the area and disappeared overnight. Everyone accepted the story, and it gave me a reason to keep the baby I loved so much. And besides, the family would have denied it all and would probably have found a way of hounding us from the village and would have had the child taken from us and put God knows where. They were very powerful – they held positions in government and were known to be ruthless.’
‘So, what did Horace tell you?’
‘He told me that he had witnessed Lord Daverly and Lady Amelia together on many occasions during the time when Lady Daverly was still alive, but gravely ill. He knew what was going on between them. You see, it was well known that Lord Daverly was a womanizer, but it was said that Lady Daverly didn’t care as long as he was discreet. She was a funny one. Very cold-hearted. Everyone used to say she must have shunned his attentions as she only had the one child.’
Frustration at these digressions made Eloise want to ask Mrs Tattumby to please stick to telling her relevant information about Jay, and Jay only, but she let the woman continue without interrupting her.
‘Anyway, according to Horace, Lord Daverly was smitten by the young Lady Amelia, and she fell for him by all accounts. Then Her Ladyship died and the house was closed down. They brought most of the staff from London with them, when in residence anyway, but kept a few at the Hall – gardeners and such – to take care of the place. Horace was one of only two household staff retained at this time. The other was a maid, Betty Redhurst; she was something of a nurse, and had been with the family for years. Lived out her days in luxury, she did. Somewhere in the Stratford area, I heard.’
Eloise clasped her hands tightly, swallowed hard and steeled herself for what was to come. Keeping her voice steady she asked, ‘And so, how did it happen that Jay was born there?’
‘Horace said that one winter’s night Lord Daverly arrived with a small party. He and Betty were called into Lord Daverly’s office. They were told that there would be a guest arriving, but that her presence must remain a secret to all. And that they would be charged with looking after the guest. They were sworn to strict secrecy, on the promise that they would receive a payment that would set them up for the rest of their lives; and were given the threat that if they told anybody anything, they and their families would be out on their ears. Their guest was the pregnant Lady Amelia. For the next five months no family attended the house, other than Lord Daverly. He would arrive in the middle of the night, stay until the next night and then leave. Betty got a room in the attic ready for the confinement, but there were complications. It didn’t go well from the start, and Lady Amelia was very ill towards the end. About a week before the birth she was so distressed about having a bastard that a priest from Leicester was brought in and married her and Lord Daverly. The local doctor, Doctor Henderson, who is living in retirement in the next village, was witness to the marriage.’
‘What? They were married, but then why . . . ?’
‘Because it was done without her father’s consent. And think about it. There would still have been a terrific scandal to face. To all of society, Amelia was abroad for a year. She was meant to be in India. How would her family live down the lie? No, the plan was for the child to be given away, and for Amelia then to go to India for a few months, saying that she had extended her time there, and then to return and marry Lord Daverly officially. But she died giving birth, poor soul. She is buried in an unmarked grave in the churchyard. In the dead of night they buried her, with no family attending. And the next thing it was said in the paper that she’d contracted an illness in India, and had died and been buried there. The only decent thing was the memorial service in London for her. At least that put her to rest, poor soul.’
Stunned into silence, Eloise just stared at Mrs Tattumby. After a moment she could take in the sorrow of all that had happened. Poor Jay, denied his rightful place in life. ‘Did his father ever realize that the child you had adopted was the one he had instructed to be sent to the orphanage?’
‘There was one occasion. I was walking down the lane with Jay, when he was a toddler. His father was visiting your family estate with a shooting party. He was riding along with your grandfather, who was still alive at the time, when they stopped in front of us. Your grandfather only knew the gypsy story, and so remarked what a fine boy Jay was, and that it had been a wonderful day for me when the gypsies had left him with me. Lord Daverly looked astonished and asked to be told the story. He glared at me and looked intensely at Jay. He couldn’t have missed how like Lady Amelia the boy was, and is still. He spoke to Jay. Of course Jay just carried on playing with the stick he was waving about. “He is deaf,” I told Lord Daverly. At which he became very agitated, begged my pardon and wanted to leave. They rode off, and that was that. Lord Daverly was killed in a riding accident not long afterwards.’
‘Oh dear. Lady Muriel was taken to be the heir. She didn’t know any different. It was thought that there were no known male relatives of Lord Daverly, and so she inherited Hastleford Hall and all that went with it! What do we do now? I . . . I mean: what does Jay want to happen? Does he want to claim his inheritance from my aunt?’
As she waited for a reply, Eloise thought that the whole thing was despicable, and part of her felt glad that she was only related to her Aunt Muriel’s family by marriage, as what they had done was abhorrent to her.
‘I’m not sure. But before this whole situation, he wanted to let people know the truth, so that he could—’
‘Marry Andrina? Oh dear, it is such a tragedy. My dear sis – sister.’ The tears that had threatened to flow while hearing Jay’s story now spilled over. Sobs racked Eloise’s body. Two large arms encircled her, and although on any other occasion she would consider this inappropriate, she welcomed the comfort they gave, but did not miss the heaving of Mrs Tattumby’s big body as she joined her tears with those of Eloise.
As she laid her head on the soft cushion of Mrs Tattumby’s breast, exhaustion took over every bone in her body. How am I to deal with all of this? How can I put it onto my dear aunt and uncle at such a time? Does Aunt Muriel know of Jay? But then an even more disgusting thought entered her: Does my father know the truth? No, he couldn’t, could he? Then it came to her that this is what Father was referring to, when he said that Jay felt like family and that he’d had suspicions. Oh dear, it is all such a mess. Such a tragic, tragic mess . . . Andrina gone forever. Edith, God knows where – and even whether she is safe. And now Jay, desperately ill and having been forced to live a life that he was not born to; and all in a silent world.
‘Look, M’lady, it ain’t much, and it don’t condone what I did, but let me tell you: Jay has had a happier life with me than he would ever have had in an orphanage – or with them lot, if I had taken him back to them. Even if they had accepted him, the moment they found out about his deafness, they would have had him committed to an institution and he would have spent his life locked up; he wouldn’t have had the life he was entitled to. And that Lady Muriel would still have inherited.’
Eloise hadn’t thought of this angle, but she could see it was a possibility. Many rich and powerful families did lock away any children who were crippled or maimed in any way. And, knowing Aunt Muriel’s family, this was most likely what they would have done with Jay, if confronted with who he really was.
The thought brought some comfort, and she realized it was probably behind Jay forgiving this woman. Well, she herself couldn’t forgive her aunt’s family, and something had to be done to put right the wrongs they had done to Jay. But she didn’t know what this would be, as she was not yet in control of her emotions – they were so swayed by her grief that they didn’t allow for decision-making.
For now, Eloise just wanted to stay encircled in the arms of this loving woman. For no matter what Mrs Tattumby had done, she was certainly that: a loving and kind woman, whose actions might have been misguided, but who had ultimately enabled Jay to be saved from what his own family might have done to him.