Chapter 24

We made the journey to Suffolk by train, and I travelled in a first-class carriage with Lady Violet. The seats were more comfortable than what I was used to, and we were served tea and biscuits on our journey. It was a rather enjoyable way to travel. When we arrived at Seamouth station the Headley House butler, Mr Shaw, collected us in a horse and trap and took us to a grand Georgian house, painted white, on the seafront in Seamouth. I went to the servants' hall in the basement and Mr Shaw introduced me to everyone. As it was a smaller household than Gatley Hall, a woman called Mrs Bentley acted as both housekeeper and cook, and she was assisted by housemaid, Louise. A young man called John worked as an underbutler. They all stood up, smiling, and shook my hand; it was a much warmer welcome than at Gatley Hall. At Headley House, it turned out, I was expected to dine with Lady Violet. We were tired and hungry from our journey and Louise brought steaming bowls of broth to the drawing room, where a full-length portrait of Lady Violet's father dominated one wall. Afterwards, Mrs Bentley showed us to our rooms. Mine was next to Lady Violet's and we both had sea views. I seemed to have landed on my feet once again with such luxurious accommodation.

Although Suffolk was milder than Surrey, with no sign of recent snow, the temperature was still fairly chilly. The warmest and most delightful room was the library, crammed with books that had belonged to Lady Violet's father. A large bay window brought light onto the gold carpet, and we were blessed with an uninterrupted view of the North Sea. The cawing of seagulls and the crashing of waves against rocks provided our soundtrack, and we'd sit facing the sea while a fire roared in the hearth.

Before long, Lady Violet and I had established a daily routine of breakfast in the drawing room, a walk along the promenade, and then tea in the library before luncheon in the drawing room. Seamouth was of course impacted by the war and we couldn't go on the beaches because of barbed wire and mines. After luncheon, Lady Violet would have a nap, and then we'd return to the library for the rest of the day. She read novels and I wrote letters to Mother, Mildred, Joan, Aunt Edith and Tom. Tom was at RAF Dunsfold, a base near Guildford, and as promised I wrote to him daily, regardless of whether or not he sent a reply. His friendship had brought me comfort in those early days at Gatley Hall, and I felt a responsibility to do the same in return.

Lady Violet began to put on a great deal of weight, and I added more panels to her dresses. Her demeanour changed and she was no longer the bright and cheerful young woman I'd met when I arrived at Gatley Hall. She was tired all the time, and would no longer go anywhere alone. This meant that I became more of a companion than a lady's maid. We spent most of the time together, and often talked for hours.

One morning, after writing my letters and with no sewing to do, I found myself looking out of the window at the sea, wondering how far away the nearest German submarine might be. Lady Violet was reading and she looked up.

‘Are you idling, Maggie?' she said.

‘I have run out of tasks, and could go to post my letters, but that can wait until later.'

‘I have never seen you read,' she said, lifting up her novel.

Reading was a pastime for those who could afford to buy books, and, although I'd borrowed books from friends and relatives when I was younger, I hadn't read a novel for a while.

‘I don't have any books at my disposal, milady.'

She laughed. ‘Well, look around you and take any book you like. I recommend you develop a love of reading while we're here, because there are times when it might just save you.'

Was reading doing that for her?

‘What do you mean?'

‘Getting lost in a fictional world can be an escape, and, if you're like me, I'm sure you have many thoughts rushing through your mind about what we are living through.'

‘What do you recommend?' I said.

‘I am rereading A Room with a View, by E.M. Forster. I lived in Tuscany for a few months when I turned eighteen and it is wonderful to escape there in this novel. Forster is one of my favourite authors and I long to return to Tuscany when this war is over. It's about a group of English people living in Florence, where in fact Luca is from, and I shall lend it to you. In the meantime, I suggest you select a Dickens. You can't go wrong with Great Expectations or A Tale of Two Cities, I say.'

I got up and went over to the shelves. As the books were organised alphabetically by author name, I soon found A Tale of Two Cities, and sat down to read it. The opening line, ‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times', could not have resonated more for me and Lady Violet. Here we were in a room with a wonderful view of the sea but living through a war. Those days in Seamouth were some of the easiest I'd experienced, slow-paced and fulfilling both mentally and physically. Walking along the promenade, tasting the salt on my lips and breathing clean air into my lungs, meant I slept well every night. My love affair with reading began that day in the library, and Lady Violet gave me a gift that would last a lifetime.

As the weeks passed and we counted down the time until the baby was due in July, Lady Violet's stomach grew so large that she looked fit to burst. One afternoon, she received a telegram notifying her of a favourite cousin being killed in action, and she cried every day for the rest of that week. The war had properly intruded on her life for the first time. Being with child, her emotions were further heightened. She seemed more vulnerable, and I empathised, having lost my brother-in-law to the war. My role became that of a surrogate mother on occasion. And the more time we spent together, the more she confided in me.

One morning we were sitting on a bench while Lady Violet rested during a walk along the promenade, and she said out of the blue, ‘Does your mother love you, Maggie?'

‘Yes, of course she does.'

‘Mine doesn't. She's a cold, hard woman. I was brought up by a nanny and a governess, and she had no interest in me whatsoever.'

My parents had been warm and loving, and I was grateful.

‘Do you think I'll be a good mother, despite this?' she said.

‘Absolutely, any child would be fortunate to have you as their mother.'

‘Your words are reassuring, but I hope you're not saying that because I'm your mistress?'

I shook my head. Indeed, I believed that she had much love to give to a child. ‘Not at all.'

‘I hope you're right. My father was kind to me, but he spent a lot of time in London and then he died suddenly, shortly before I married Charles.'

‘Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. My father died a few years ago as well.'

She squeezed my arm. ‘Losing a parent is quite a shock to the system, isn't it?'

‘Very much so,' I said, feeling awkward. She was confiding in me more than someone of her status usually would, but I supposed she had no one else to talk to in Seamouth.

‘I don't love Charles,' she said.

‘No?'

‘That's why I was so drawn to Luca, well, apart from the need to produce an heir. Who could resist such a beautiful man?'

What could I say?

‘The earl is quite repulsive without his clothes, Maggie, and almost twenty years older than me. When he and I make love – if one can call it that – I cannot look at him and it's more of an endurance than a pleasure. Whereas Luca has a physique like the statue of David in Florence, with his broad shoulders and muscular legs. As a young woman, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about, Maggie? Michelangelo could have used Luca as a model for his statue if he'd been alive then, I'm sure.'

While I had to pretend to be unmoved by her mention of Luca, conversations like these brought Lady Violet and me closer, and I enjoyed our time together in Seamouth. One might say we developed a friendship during those weeks while we waited for the baby to arrive.

As the days grew longer and lighter, we'd often walk to the end of the promenade before supper, then sit on a bench by the lighthouse so Lady Violet could rest. She was carrying a great deal of weight now and her ankles were constantly swollen. We'd inhale the sea air and admire the view that lay before us and discuss the books we were reading.

One afternoon, as we walked back to the house, Lady Violet clutched her stomach and cried out.

‘What is it?' I said, but then, seeing a clear fluid drip onto her shoes from beneath her dress, I had my answer. Her waters had broken.

She screamed, then took a breath and seemed to wait for the pain to pass.

‘These contractions are immense, Maggie, like big waves rolling right through me,' she said through gritted teeth. ‘The baby is coming. Get me back to the house, and ask Mr Shaw to call the doctor. Pray for me and let's hope it is a boy.'