London, beginning of September 1916
Everyone’s shoulder to lean on
Leaving her Aunt Muriel’s side wasn’t easy for Eloise as her dear aunt was distraught. It had been seven weeks since Edith had gone missing, and still no news of her had filtered through. Coping with her aunt’s constant breakdowns was difficult, not least because she didn’t seem to register that Eloise herself was grieving – and for Edith as well as Andrina. And now she carried the burden of Jay’s birthright, too.
Her father was the only person she could talk to. For him, Jay’s story had been a confirmation of his suspicions. Father had told her that he remembered an incident that had taken place at Hastleford Hall when he was a young man.
Father had visited Hastleford Hall, Aunt Muriel’s home, with his brother Christopher and his parents since a young boy, as their ancestral homes were in nearby villages. Their families had socialized a great deal. Father had been very vague in his knowledge, but said that what Eloise had told him fitted with what he had always suspected, even though it shocked him to the core.
‘You see, Eloise,’ he’d said, ‘we all knew that your Aunt Muriel’s father, Lord Daverly, was carrying on with Lady Amelia, though we were all surprised when she went off to India not long after Lady Daverly died. Some said it was to give propriety to them marrying when she returned, as there would be a suitable lapse in time and, being apart, they couldn’t be accused of acting improperly during the mourning period. But a few months after Lady Daverly’s death I was visiting my father on our estate in the next village and went for a walk. I was a week off marrying your mama and I wanted to have a little space to myself. Your Aunt Muriel and Uncle Christopher were already married and had their three children. I was late in meeting the love of my life. I walked over to Hastleford Hall and went into the grounds through the back gate near the river. It was dusk by the time I reached there. Not expecting to see anyone but the servants, I was surprised to see a lady walking across the lawn. She was heavily pregnant, and I thought it was Lady Amelia. I was shocked rigid for a moment, but then got my wits about me and made myself scarce.’
Father had gone on to tell her that, a few weeks after their wedding, he and Mama had spent time in the country, and had heard that a baby had been left on the step of the butcher’s shop, and that the butcher and his wife were of a mind to keep the child. It was talked about by everyone – the vicar, the gentry and the peasants – as all things that happen out of the ordinary are, in such tiny villages as Stanford, where Hastleford Hall is, and Market Bosworth, where their own ancestral home was. Father even knew the tale about the gypsies being the culprits.
Father’s suspicions had eventually led him to give Jay a position on his estate, but not to speak out or do anything further.
This lack of action made Eloise feel angry and frustrated. Nevertheless, her father had reasoned that he couldn’t prove Jay’s parentage one way or the other, and he hadn’t been able to challenge anyone about it, because such accusations would have been deemed scandalous.
These thoughts went round and round Eloise’s mind as she walked the five hundred yards along Holland Park from her aunt’s house to her own. As she reached the gate she had a sudden urge not to go inside and instead instructed her maid, who accompanied her, ‘Dorothy, follow me. I’m going for a walk, but please don’t attempt to engage my attention in any way, or stop me from anything I may be doing.’
‘No, M’lady,’ said Dorothy, which made Eloise feel a little pang of guilt. Having once been her nanny, Dorothy loved to recall stories from walks out when Eloise was a child. These would always be to the park, as they were now, and so Dorothy had a lot of memories to convey. But Eloise just needed to be alone with her thoughts today.
The afternoon was a pleasant one. The flowers and trees were still in their summer bloom as the two of them walked towards the Earls Court gates of Holland Park itself.
Passing through the gates, it only took a few minutes’ walk to bring them to the fountain at the back of Aunt Muriel’s house. Cousin Edith loved this fountain and, by being near to it, Eloise felt as if Edith was close to her. She was certain Edith was still alive. She would have known if she hadn’t been. Something would have told her; besides, she had to keep hoping that Edith would soon be found.
Poor Edith; apart from what might be happening to her now, when she returned she had a lot to face. Things Eloise couldn’t visit at the moment. If she allowed herself to, she would lose the purpose of this time to herself. She did wonder, though, what Edith would think of her now, because just a few short months ago Edith had seen her as a silly girl, and that is what she had been. How she would love Edith to know that she had changed, and that she shouldered everyone’s problems and stood strong for them all. Edith would never believe such a transformation could happen.
She sat on a bench near the fountain. The spray from the tumbling water sent little droplets to wet her hair, cooling her after her walk and clearing her mind. Only for it to start clouding over the next minute with her worries. What will happen if Jay changes his mind and wants his inheritance, as surely he will? How will Lady Muriel take that? Will she be able to stand it? So much hung in the air.
Her initial feelings about Jay had changed, and now she wondered if the nice young man she’d found him to be wouldn’t want to take away her Aunt Muriel’s inheritance; and if he did, then, as Aunt Muriel’s half-brother, he would surely look after her, perhaps even make her a generous allowance. But still, that wouldn’t help matters, as it wouldn’t be the loss of the money so much as the shame of losing her standing that would injure poor Aunt Muriel the most.
Eloise shrugged and resigned herself to deal with each thing as it happened, rather than worrying about them all now. She had her own future to think of and, with this thought, she remembered Rene’s letter. It had arrived in the late-morning post. The scrawling handwriting and the postmark had made it easy to identify. Tucking it into her bag, she’d wanted to wait until after her visit to her aunt to read it, desiring a moment to herself when she could absorb and savour the news and snippets of Rene’s life that she always wrote to her about. A free life, and one Eloise longed to live for herself.
She and Rene – Irene, really, but she hated that name – had been friends since birth. Rene’s father, the wealthy industrialist Thomas Cooper, and Eloise’s father had been at Eton together, and the two families were very close.
Eloise had written to Rene for advice about the kinds of war work available, and what she should do to get accepted for it. Not that Rene’s advice would be much use now! It just wasn’t possible for her to leave home as things were at the moment. But she did want to do something to help the war effort.
Some of Rene’s news was the usual chit-chat about her colleagues’ antics and her own progress towards her final exam. But a part of it concerned a patient, and it moved Eloise almost to tears as she read: ‘Oh, Eloise, I have met the most courageous woman. Her name is Ada O’Flynn.’
Letting the letter fall to her lap, Eloise found that Ada’s story had greatly affected her. Oh God, there is so much pain-in the world – how are we to bear it? A lump constricted her throat. I must not give way.
Dorothy’s voice broke into her thoughts and helped her to control her emotions. ‘I’m sorry, Lady Eloise, but I can’t sit silent when I see you troubled. Is there anything I can do?’
‘I wish there was, Dorothy, but who can mend the world? Will it ever be as it was?’
‘I don’t know. Have you had more bad news? Is Miss Rene all right? I recognized the handwriting and knew the letter was from her.’
‘It is. Yes, she is fine and sends her love to you.’ Rene loved Dorothy as much as she herself did; many times when they had been children Dorothy had been in charge of them both. ‘It is the pain and suffering she is witnessing that is upsetting.’
As she finished telling Dorothy about Ada, Dorothy said, ‘Poor woman. Sadly, she is just one of many, many grieving families, M’lady. Some, like this Ada, have lost more than one loved one, and others have lost their only breadwinner and are facing the workhouse. Then there are those young men who have come back maimed and unable to work, reduced to begging in the streets . . .’
‘That’s it! I – I mean, you’ve given me an idea, Dorothy. Something that I can do to help, whilst still remaining at home to be a support to Mama. I will set up a charity to help anyone who has been damaged in any way by this war. I’ll provide funds to feed and house them, and help the maimed to make their life more bearable! Dorothy, I have no need for the advice given by Rene, which is advice I couldn’t follow anyway after . . . Well, we won’t talk of that. My new venture will help me to bear that, too. Come on, Dorothy, we have work to do!’
‘Oh, Lady Eloise, it would be wonderful if you could help, but what use can I be? And have you considered your father? He won’t allow this – you know he won’t. He doesn’t like the thought of you working, unless it is something genteel like sewing cushions or knitting socks.’
‘You can be my right-hand man. I know no one better. And together we will tackle Father. But first I must plan it all, so that he can see we know what we are doing. Our first case will be Ada. We’ll visit her and bring her some money, so that she can engage a lawyer to help save her new love. I can’t bear to think of him hanging. Rene has said that although she didn’t witness the fracas, she believes Ada’s account of it. And if she does, then I do too, so we have to do something to help.’
Father paced up and down the upstairs sitting room, a room all the family loved because of the peace it afforded; somehow it felt detached from the hustle and bustle of the downstairs rooms, which always felt unsettled as the servants went about their business and visitors frequented them.
A large room positioned at the back of the house, the upstairs sitting room overlooked the park. It had many windows, which displayed spectacular views and could make you forget that the house was in London.
Furnished in the French style, with heavy furniture and a large collection of paintings on the walls, the soft decor of blush-pink and ruby velvet provided a lush, yet restful feel.
Eloise looked over at her mama, sitting quietly on one of the three sofas in the room, and felt at a loss. Mama had her head down and didn’t look as though she was going to be the champion of Eloise’s cause that Eloise had hoped she would be.
So far Father had been very accommodating about her idea and had helped her as much as he could in raising funds and sending out a letter of appeal to all of his contacts. But now, faced with the reality of how much involvement she personally wanted to give to the project, his objections were making her worry that he would halt her plans from progressing any further. ‘No. Eloise, it is a ridiculous idea! I can’t have you going up to the North of England with just Dorothy to chaperone you!’
‘I have to, Daddy, otherwise all my efforts will have been for nothing.’
‘Look, my dear, I do admire the way you have planned this charity, and think that dedicating it to Andrina’s memory is a fitting tribute to her and is helping us all, by having something positive come out of the dreadful tragedy of her loss. Plus, the money you have raised is very commendable in such a short time. Your hastily arranged garden party was a huge success, and our friends have been most generous in their donations. It has been good to see you so occupied, but—’
‘Daddy, please! I will be safe. Dorothy will look after me, and we will be with Rene in the cottage her parents have rented for her. She has a maid with her, too. So we are not on our own. If this is to work, I can’t just be a figurehead who raises the money. I have to see it through. I have to be seen to be supervising the projects the charity takes on. Then everyone will feel safe, and happy to donate towards it.’
‘Look, this idea is only three weeks in the making. Carry on raising money, by all means, but wait a while before you take on any projects. This one in particular may harm your efforts. Funding a murderer, to secure a lawyer to get him off – it will damage your credibility and mine, too.’
‘But he’s innocent, Daddy.’
‘So you believe, but what if he isn’t?’
‘He still has a right to be represented, as he would be if he was a rich person.’
‘Yes, but is he really the best person to be focusing your efforts on? Your money has been given to you in the good faith that it will be helping victims of the war.’
Eloise remained quiet for a moment. Then a solution occurred to her. ‘Very well, Father, I take your point. But I still need to go up to Leeds and then to Low Moor, to see Ada. She is someone who has lost everything: her three sons to the war, her home to an explosion, which was due to the war. Of course very few know about that, because of the reporting restrictions necessary to safeguard the location of the munitions factory. Nevertheless, it happened, and the devastation it has wrought is something that I can address from our funds. As for the man accused of murder, I will personally pay for a lawyer for him, from the money Granny left me. I believe strongly in his innocence, as related to me by Rene. I can’t stand by and let him go to the gallows for something he didn’t do.’
‘Eloise, Eloise, where has all this come from? I want my silly, empty-headed little girl back. My two silly—’
‘Oh, Daddy, don’t. Don’t!’
Hurrying to her father’s side, as did her mama, who had remained quiet throughout the debate, Eloise felt tears begin to tumble from her and asked herself, Am I doing something wrong? Is this new ‘me’ too much for my parents to take, so soon after their loss? One daughter gone forever and the other changed beyond recognition?
Her mama’s voice cut into her thoughts, as she spoke to her husband. ‘Mon cher, don’t. I know all of this is having an effect on you. It is on me, too. But we need to be strong for Eloise. To admire her, and to support her. She is not wallowing in her grief, but turning it into strength and a desire to help others. I, for one, am standing by her and will support her all I can.’
‘Thank you, dearest Mama, thank you.’
Her father blew his nose loudly, signalling his resignation. ‘Go with my blessing, my darling. But you are not going on the train. I will buy you a car and find you a trusted chauffeur. That will give me some peace of mind. A male accompanying you will give you added protection. And, I will fund the lawyer . . .’
‘Oh, Daddy, thank you.’
‘No, wait while I tell you my conditions. I will need satisfying that the man is innocent. To do that, I need to have the full story. Then I will engage one of the best lawyers I know, to talk to the accused, and to the dead man’s wife; and to anyone who had a part as a witness, or who has an opinion because they were on the scene soon afterwards; and to those who could be character witnesses. If, after all that, my man is of the mind that the accused is innocent, then I will go ahead with the funding.’
‘They are good conditions, Daddy, and I agree to them. But everything must happen with haste. I want to go within the week, and the wheels of justice are already in motion. We have to act quickly to make sure they turn in the right direction.’
Her father shook his head. ‘My little Eloise, you have grown into a wonderful woman and I am proud of you.’
No words could have been more musical to her ears; for her father to be proud of her made everything worthwhile. Going into his arms, and having those of her mama encircle them both, created another poignant moment for them all, but one that spoke of hope for their future and of their ability to go forward, with just the memory of Andrina to sustain them.
As Eloise broke away and left her parents to continue to console one another, the sudden weight of what she had taken on hit her. Was she up to it? Could she – a spoilt young rich woman – make a difference? Well, she would soon find out, but nothing would stop her from trying. She had just broken down the last threads of resistance from those who had the power to prevent her from continuing. For her now to have their backing meant that the world was waiting for her – she hoped it was ready, because she certainly was.