“Forget sandwiches,” Michael said, standing up. “Why don’t we just go down to the Hare and Hound? We can leave a note and let James know we’ve gone out.”
The Hare and Hound was a typical English country pub. One side had a snooker table and dart board while the other side had a bar and lounge. There was a crowd gathered around the dartboard, and in the middle of it was Freddie, who waved to us with a fistful of darts in one hand and a beer in the other.
After our sandwiches were served, Michael asked his parents about the preparations for the gala. “How are the Catons managing it all without the army of servants?”
“Mrs. Caton has a contract with an agency, and they send her whoever she needs,” his father answered. “You’ll probably recognize a face or two from Crofton.”
“Michael, wait until you see Montclair,” his mother added. “The Catons have done a magnificent job in restoring it to the Regency Era. It’s absolutely stunning.”
“I’ve always thought that Montclair was beautiful, but, truthfully, I prefer Crofton Wood. It’s much more intimate. What do you think, Maggie?”
“Well, I think I’d have to go with Montclair, but only if I don’t have to dust it.” And everyone laughed. “Actually, in Minooka, I shared a bed with my younger sister, so a step up for me would be having my own bedroom.”
“But there are advantages to sharing a bed.” After a long pause, he continued. “I mean, your hometown is in the mountains, and it gets cold in the winter, does it not?”
I nodded, but quickly added, “What’s the weather like on Malta?”
“Hot and humid.”
After that exchange, Michael started to play with his utensils and made a teepee with the forks and spoons. Beth looked at her son with a puzzled expression. Between his remark about sharing a bed and his tableware construction project, it was obvious something was not right.
“I might as well tell you now,” he finally said, “my squadron is being sent to Lubeck to help with the Airlift. I won’t be going back to Malta. My orders are to go directly to Germany.” To which his father said, “Christ.”
“Listen, Dad. I’m not crazy about going to Germany either. But the RAF and the Americans have been flying supplies into Berlin around the clock for more than two months now, and I don’t see it stopping any time soon. The ground crews have been turning the planes around as fast as safety will allow. With all of these landings and takeoffs, it’s rough on the planes, and the air and ground crews are exhausted. There will be accidents if the crews don’t get a break. So it makes sense for our squadron to go to Germany instead of just sitting in Malta protecting sea lanes to an empire that really doesn’t exist anymore.
“Since I’m due to be discharged in November, I’ll be working on the integration of British and Commonwealth crews that are already arriving from Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa.” Jack said nothing, so Michael continued, “Six weeks, Dad. That’s what we’re talking here. Just six weeks before I’m out of the service.”
On the drive back to Crofton Wood, no one said anything until we pulled into the driveway. When Jack saw James’s car was still not there, he said, “Bloody hell! He never got here. How long does it take a woman to pack a bag for a weekend?”
As soon as I came downstairs the following morning, Michael asked if I would like to go for a walk. “The weather’s perfect, so my mother has suggested we walk up to the gazebo. It’s on the highest point on the Montclair property and provides a spectacular view of the valley.”
“You should go, Maggie,” Beth said. “You can see all the way to Stepton, with all of its church spires.”
Once we stepped outside, Michael turned and said, “Our going for a walk was Mom’s idea, and if you’d rather not because of Rob, I understand. But before we go back in, I wanted to thank you for being such a good friend to my mother. As for my father, he told me that he thinks of you as a daughter.”
“There is no need to thank me,” I said emphatically. “Your parents have been so kind to me from the very start. The first day I met them, they invited me to stay overnight.”
“I would have extended the same invitation if I had been home,” Michael said, smiling. Every time he smiled, I wondered how a guy who was every girl’s dream could still be available.
Without acknowledging what he had said about Rob, I started walking toward Montclair on an old wagon road that ran deep into the property. It was little changed from the time when Beth’s father was a boy before the age of the automobile. Deep ruts marked the passage of hundreds of wagons, and there were stiles in the stone walls, just as there had been in the days of Jane Austen when Lizzy used one on her walk to visit Jane at Netherfield.
“To answer your question, I know your relationship with Audrey didn’t work out, but if it had, would you have been okay with her going for a walk with another man?”
“I don’t know. It’s been so long since I fancied myself in love — not since I lived in Australia — that I’m not sure how I would respond. And I take your point. You have reason to be cautious because, if it weren’t for Rob, I’d have a run at you myself.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I kept walking. Although my relationship with Rob was on rocky ground, it seemed wrong to have a flirtation with Michael on one day and to meet Rob at the train station the next.
It was a gentle climb to the top where the gazebo was located in one of the loveliest spots on the property. In one direction, you could see clear across the valley to the boundary of the Peak District and the spires of Stepton’s churches from the other. Although the long view was now interrupted by a number of country manors and farmhouses, it was easy to imagine Elizabeth and Will Lacey sitting alone or with their children admiring the view of their slice of Derbyshire.
“Mum told me she and her friends used to stage plays up here when she was a girl. However, while I was still in short pants, the Pratt boys had turned the gazebo into a fort with straw bales as the palisade. Dennis, the youngest Pratt boy, James, and I would have to storm the fort, and the older boys would pelt us with rocks, and on occasion, manure mixed with straw and made into ‘shit balls.’” Laughing, he said, “You may hear some awful things said about the Pratts, and everything you hear will be true.”
I turned around to face the manor house and its newly restored gardens. Looking at Montclair with the low autumn sun glinting off its windows, I asked Michael if he had any regrets that he had never lived above stairs in the manor house.
“None. When my mother tells stories of growing up there, it’s as alien to me as India would be to you. Mum said her parents would often host what they called ‘Saturday to Monday’ weekends. It was a bit of snobbery because obviously you didn’t need to work if you could stay through Monday. Do you know what the guests complained of the most? Boredom. They could ride, play tennis, shoot, go fishing, and yet, with everything there was to do and surrounded by all of this beauty, they were bored. I can’t relate to that at all.”
We started down the hill toward the village, and we decided to have an early lunch at the inn. When the owner brought the tea and sandwiches over to our table, Michael stood up and gave her a big hug. “My dear boy, where have you been? Your mother says you’re stationed in Malta. Are you out of service, or are you just in for the gala at Montclair?” Mrs. Rivers was so happy to see him that she wouldn’t let him answer. “Everyone is getting out their best dresses, and because of the war, we’re taking them in instead of letting them out.” Pulling on her own dress, she said, “I lost a stone during the war, but I’ve put half of that back on since I’m back in the kitchen. We have a full house every weekend. Even with the rationing, people are finding a way to get here, and that’s with Chatsworth closed. If they ever open it again, there won’t be a room to be had in the whole county.”