It was Violet’s suggestion to go to Brighton because she knew that I was still reeling from my breakup with Rob. When she saw me put a copy of Austen’s Persuasion in my suitcase, she took it out. “The last thing you need to be reading is the story of a woman who pined for her lover for eight years. Besides, I’m hoping we won’t have any time to read.”
On the train ride to Brighton, Violet shared some of what she knew about the history of the Lacey family. She had written her senior thesis on Francine Lacey, Will and Lizzy’s older daughter, and as part of her research, she had accumulated a lot of information on the family.
“Remember, Pride and Prejudice is a novel. Jane Austen was influenced by Will and Elizabeth Lacey’s story, but it is in no way a history. Let me give you an example. One thing that was emphasized in the novel was that the Bennet sisters had ‘no connections.’ That wasn’t the case at all. Lizzy’s maternal grandfather wasn’t some backwater country solicitor, but a man who had retired from a successful London practice. And then there was Lizzy’s Aunt Susan, her father’s older sister. She had married a baronet and took an interest in Jane. Unfortunately, Aunt Susan did not like Lizzy because she considered her to be ‘whimsical,’ whatever that means. And then there were Aunt and Uncle Sims, the Gardiners in the book. Mr. Sims was a successful coffee broker and was knighted. Through his connections, Jane and Lizzy would have had ample opportunity to meet some of London’s bachelors. But even if they had never married, they would have been able to live in some degree of comfort because of an annuity provided by their Grandfather Sims. They would not have been out on the street selling flowers.”
Leaving the grit of London behind, we traveled through the south of England’s beautiful rural shires. The green, rolling landscape went on for mile after mile before disappearing into the horizon. But the scenery was familiar to Violet, and so she ignored the lush pastureland, country lanes, and well-sited farmhouses framed by the train windows.
“Thomas Garrison, Lizzy’s father, inherited the estate from his uncle, Edward Bennet, which is where the town and the estate got its name. He had been in London, studying for the bar at Lincoln’s Inn, when he learned that he had inherited a farm. He moved to Bennets End and never did practice law. Within the year, he married eighteen-year-old Francine Sims, Lizzy’s mother.
“When you read Franny’s journals,” Violet continued, “you’ll see she was no fan of Pride and Prejudice, mostly because of Austen’s portrayal of her grandmother, whom she was very fond of. Other than her concern for her daughters marrying well, Francine Garrison had little resemblance to the novel’s emptyheaded Mrs. Bennet, and the Laceys and Binghams were frequent visitors to Bennets End.
“On the other hand, Austen was spot on about Lucy being selfish, but Franny also says that her aunt had a wonderful ‘almost childlike’ sense of fun and took the children to county fairs and staged plays where every child had a part.”
Violet talked so fast that it was necessary to hang on to her every word, or I might miss a decade. She was still talking when we pulled into Brighton.
Our hotel, one of dozens facing the sea, was built during the reign of Victoria and had Victorian Age plumbing. I was used to hotels where I had to share a bath and toilet, but because of a “wonky” commode, we had to use the one on the floor above. Although the door to the commode was unmarked, I had no trouble figuring out which one it was because I could clearly see the outline of a man facing the toilet through the frosted glass door, which Violet and I found to be hysterical.
The woman at the registration desk told us the reason the hotel was in such a state of disrepair was because it had been used to billet Australian soldiers during the war. “Ruffians. That’s what they were. Nothing less than ruffians.”
As soon as we got outside, Violet said, “That hotel hasn’t seen a paint brush since Victoria died in 1901. She’s blaming the Aussies because they have such a bad reputation.” After thinking for a few seconds, she added, laughing, “which they deserved.”
We walked the promenade until we found a place to have dinner. After being seated, Violet said emphatically, “After we eat, we’re going to go to a pub.”
“I’m not one for going to pubs or bars.”
“You’re not one for doing much,” Violet said impatiently. “Brighton has a lot of great pubs and dancehalls, and I think we should go to some of them.”
“What about Guy?”
“What about him? Do you mean, can I go out dancing without my husband? Hell yes! Guy has two left feet. If I want to dance, I have to go out with my friends, and I’m not too shy about asking a man to dance with me.” Leaning over the table, she continued. “Listen, Maggie, your fellow has gone back to the States, so it’s time for you to start meeting other men. I’m not saying you have to let some man get into your knickers, but, truthfully, abstinence is considerably overrated.”
“Was there anyone other than Guy? You know what I mean. Was Guy your first…?”
“My first! He wasn’t even my fourth. Good Lord, don’t look so shocked. I was in London all during the Blitz. We all were, just like the royals. You know that bit about ‘The princesses won’t leave London without their mother. The Queen won’t leave without the King, and the King won’t leave.’ Same thing with my family. Bombs rained down night after night, killing thousands. At that time, I drove this little lorry with coffee and sandwiches to serve the ARF — the air raid wardens. They were the ones who enforced the blackout, but they also helped rescue people trapped in the rubble. Poor things! I’d have to wrap their hands around the coffee cups because they were just sitting there staring into space. Here I was, twenty-one years old, and I had never been with a man. You probably don’t know this, but sex relieves tension. And I was very tense.”
“Do you think Guy knows?”
“Knows that I wasn’t a virgin? I think it was pretty obvious the first night we spent together. I wasn’t exactly lying on my back thinking of England.”
“How did you two meet?” Mr. and Mrs. Guy Barton were the most incongruous couple. Violet was tall, dark, and rail-thin, with a posh accent, while her husband was short, fair, and a little on the chubby side. It was comical to listen to their conversations. Guy’s working-class background was obvious from the moment he opened his mouth, but Violet loved to listen to him and would often go over and kiss him on the top of his head while he was talking.
“Guy worked in the same building as my father at the War Office. I’d see him when I brought Dad sandwiches and coffee from home. I thought he was cute, but that was it. But then the Germans started with their rockets. The Allied invasion had been successful, so everyone thought that was the end of the bombs. First it was the doodlebugs, which were bad enough, but at least with them, you knew you were safe as long as you could hear them. It was only when the humming stopped that you were in trouble. But you couldn’t hear the buzz bombs, and there were more of them. One of the bombs hit down the street from the War Office, and we all ran out to see if we could help. I must have looked terrified because Guy came over, and knowing who I was, whispered in my ear: ‘Our troops are forcing the mobile launchers back to the point where London will shortly be out of range.’ I think I fell in love with him right then.”
While we were out to dinner, our waiter informed us that because the Royal Pavilion was in such a state of disrepair, only visitors accompanied by a tour guide could gain entry.
“Do you happen to know one?” Violet asked, feeling confident that he did.
“My father earns a bit on the side conducting tours, and there isn’t anything about Brighton he doesn’t know.”
Handing the waiter the money for the bill, Violet said, “We’ll see your father tomorrow at 9:00 at the main entrance.”