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Meadowlands

Severn House Publishers Limited

It was Saturday, the first of August, 1914, the day of the silver wedding celebration. Lady Adelaide Barsham regarded herself approvingly in the mirror of her dressing table at Meadowlands as Polly, her maid, put the finishing touches to her hair, making sure that the curls that spilled forward from the top of her head to mask her rather high forehead were quite secure before adding a sweeping peacock-blue feather that exactly matched the trimming on her dress. The dress itself was a quite stunning creation in various shades of the same peacock blue and it hung in diaphanous folds from a rather daringly low-cut, tight-fitting bodice. Even her satin shoes were peacock blue. Lady Adelaide gave a sigh of satisfaction as she reached for her jewel box, confident that nobody would guess that she was only two years short of her fiftieth birthday.

The connecting door to her husband's dressing room opened after a brief knock and Sir George Barsham MP entered the room.

Lady Adelaide looked up in surprise. 'Thank you, Polly, I'll ring if I need anything more,' she said, dismissing her with a brief gesture. 'You can go and see if Miss Georgina and Miss Millicent need your assistance. I expect they're waiting for your attention.'

'Yes, m'lady. I believe they are.' And have been for some time, Polly added under her breath. With a sketchy bob she left the room and hurried along to the two daughters of the house.

As soon as the door had closed behind Polly, Sir George approached his wife with a velvet-covered box. 'I thought some kind of a trinket was in order to mark our twenty-five years of blissful union,' he said with only the faintest trace of sarcasm, handing it to her. 'Though God knows why you insisted on such a lavish celebration to mark the occasion.'

She opened the box and drew in a sharp breath when she saw the glittering diamond necklace and earrings. 'Oh, George, they're beautiful. Thank you, darling.' She turned away a little as he bent to kiss her. 'Mind my hair. Polly has just spent ages getting it right.' She lifted the necklace from its velvet bed. 'Would you mind?' She handed it to him and he fastened it round her neck.

'Oh, yes, they really are gorgeous.' Smiling happily, she patted the earrings then picked them up and fastened them, turning this way and that, delighted at the way they glittered as they caught the light. They would look a sensation in the new electric light George had recently had installed. She glanced up at him, opened her mouth to speak, then closed it as she saw him scowling at his reflection in her mirror. 'You're looking very smart, George,' she said mildly instead. 'But you look troubled. What's wrong?'

He drew in a noisy breath. 'What's wrong is that we should never be holding this damned affair at all,' he said tetchily. 'It should have been cancelled. Don't you realize this country is on the brink of war? This is not the time to invite half the county to some extravagant shindig. Apart from the fact that it's going to set me back God knows how much.'

Adelaide shrugged. 'You can afford it, George.' She moved her head from side to side. She liked the way the light caught the diamonds. 'Anyway, as you well know the invitations went out and were accepted long enough before all this scaremongering about war started. Don't you realize it takes months to organize a celebration on this scale? It's not something that could be cancelled at the drop of a hat. I'm surprised you could even consider such a thing. Even the Prime Minister and his wife have accepted.'

'The Asquiths are not coming. I had a telephone call this morning with their apologies.'

Adelaide stared at him in horror. 'Not coming? Why not? Don't they realize it's very bad manners to decline at the last minute? Why didn't you tell me, George? I hope they've given a very good reason.'

'Of course they've got a good reason, Adelaide. Didn't you hear what I said? The whole of Europe is in turmoil.' George's moustache twitched, a sure sign that he was losing patience. 'It's a desperate situation and the prime minister can't leave Downing Street because things are happening at such speed. Don't you realize war could be declared any day?' He didn't even try to hide the contempt in his voice.

'But why should this country be involved? I really can't see what the assassination of Archduke ... Ferdinand, or whatever his name was, has got to do with us.' Her voice was petulant.

'I can't go into all that now, Adelaide. If you spent a little more time with the daily newspaper and a little less gazing at fashion catalogues you would know how things stood without me having to explain it all to you. Suffice it to say things are moving very quickly – so quickly that I shall be very surprised it our country is not at war with Germany by this time next week.'

She shrugged. 'I'm sure that can't be true, George. Don't you realize the king and the kaiser are cousins? They would never allow our two countries to go to war; it's unthinkable. You always were a pessimist.'

'And you've always preferred to bury your head in the sand, Adelaide. But I'd back my judgement against yours, any day.' With that he left the room, not quite slamming the door.

She sat for a long time after he left, gazing at her reflection in the mirror without actually seeing it. Twenty-five years they had been married. Twenty-five years of George looking for trouble where there was none; twenty-five years of not exactly marital bliss. She frowned. She supposed they'd been in love to begin with, she couldn't really remember now. But she'd certainly done her duty. She'd given him four children in the first five years: the two girls, Georgina and Millicent, and then the twins, James and Edward. Thank God the twins had been boys so there was an heir and a spare, as the saying went. She'd had quite enough of childbearing by the time they were born and had no desire to emulate Queen Victoria. She'd also had quite enough of George sweating and fumbling over her in bed, too, so she used the twins' birth, easy and trouble-free though it had been (although, of course, George knew nothing of that) as an excuse to banish him to his dressing room. He had never asked to return to her bed and she had never invited him. She suspected – in fact she knew – that he sought his pleasures elsewhere. Her only stipulation, after the unfortunate episode with that rather attractive housemaid, which resulted in her being dismissed for some trivial misdemeanour – all handled very quietly and satisfactorily to Adelaide's mind – was that these things should never again happen under her roof. To his credit they never had. What happened elsewhere, she neither knew nor cared.

She roused herself out of her reverie and got to her feet. Tonight was not the night to rake over past misdeeds; tonight was the time to show a united front at their silver wedding celebrations; twenty-five years of slightly frayed and inadequately patched-up wedded bliss.

Of course, the ninety guests were unaware that the marriage was anything less than perfect as Sir George and Lady Adelaide stood smiling and greeting them as they arrived at the brightly lit house. Lady Adelaide had insisted that every electric light in the house be switched on to impress the guests, ignoring Sir George's warnings that it could cause the power to fail and plunge the whole house into darkness. Fortunately, this didn't happen. In the event, and despite George's dire prophecies, the evening went very well, as she had planned that it should.

The food was plentiful and imaginative, thanks to weeks of careful planning and days of frantic baking and preparation in the kitchen It was all laid out for inspection in the dining room on long tables covered with spotless damask tablecloths. Smaller tables, to seat four or six, were dotted around the room so that guests could drift in and out as they chose, while maids and footmen stood by to attend them and make sure their glasses were never empty. Sir George had made it his business to check that there was enough wine and champagne to mellow even the most argumentative and belligerent of the guests.

It was a colourful scene. The ladies were resplendent in gowns of every shade and hue, their jewels sparkling in the dazzling electric light, while the men provided a sober contrast in black and white evening dress. And if there was an air of reckless festivity, a sense of 'eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow who knows what will happen?' this only served to add to the party atmosphere.

In the drawing room the furniture had been moved and the carpet rolled back to make ready for dancing. At the end of the room a small dance band – piano, clarinet, bass player and drums – played the latest tunes, 'When Irish Eyes Are Smiling', 'Oh, You Beautiful Doll', 'You Made Me Love You' and 'Peg o' My Heart', luring the younger guests in to dance and flirt the evening away while their elders won or lost money at cards in another room.

Ned Barsham dutifully danced with every girl in turn. He was a good dancer, with a natural sense of rhythm and he enjoyed dancing. But although the girls were all equally pretty, they were equally empty-headed, it seemed to him, and a few of them seemed to be blessed with two left feet. He was quite relieved when, having done his duty, he could retire to a quiet spot on the terrace to commune with the stars and a bottle of wine.

'Oh, so there you are.' James came and sat down opposite his twin.

Ned yawned. 'Yes, here I am, having done my duty and danced with every girl from here to kingdom come and several clod-hopping horses as well.' He grinned as he spoke.

'Yes, and I know which ones you mean,' James said with a laugh. 'Never mind. It's all in a good cause.'

'Is it? I'm not sure I agree. I think it's all to fuel our mother's love of ostentation, if you ask me. Bad timing, too. I expect that's why Pater's so bad-tempered.'

'Mind if I join you two chaps? I've brought my entrance fee.' A man a few years older than the twins appeared, holding a bottle of champagne.

'You're very welcome, Archie, old son,' Ned said, pushing his glass over. 'But where's our sainted sister? Shouldn't you be holding her hand since you've just become engaged to her?'

'Nice touch, that,' James said with a grin. 'Announcing it at Ma and Pa's silver wedding. Was that your idea?'

'Yes. I wanted to surprise Gina. And I did.'

'I hope you went down on one knee,' Ned said.

'What, in my best dinner suit? What do you think?'

'I think you probably did,' James guessed. 'But what have you done with her? Where is she?'

'She's doing the rounds, duty-dancing, but I've claimed the last waltz so I'm not complaining.' Archie poured drinks for all three into the wine glasses on the table. 'They're the wrong glasses, which I guess my beloved would be quick to point out. But the booze tastes the same whatever it's in.'

'I'll drink to that,' the twins said together. 'And to you, Archie,' James added with a twinkle. 'A brave man, if ever there was one, to marry our sister.'

'Amen to that.' Ned raised his glass.

'Oh, Polly,' James called to the pretty, auburn-haired maid he'd seen hurrying across the terrace with a tray of drinks. 'When you've delivered those would you bring us three champagne glasses, please.'

'Better make it four. Gina will be here eventually,' Archie added.

Polly altered course and came to the table where they were sitting. 'I'll do better than that, Mr James,' she said with a smile. 'I can leave you four glasses of champagne.'

'You're a star, Polly, you know that?' James took the glasses from the tray and looked up at her and winked.

She blushed. 'If you say so, sir.' She picked up her tray and hurried off.

Archie picked up his glass and sipped it. 'This could be the last party we'll enjoy for some time if the Kaiser has his way,' he said thoughtfully.

'Do you really think war is inevitable?' Ned asked.

He took another sip. 'Can't see anything else for it, the way the Kaiser's behaving. What do you think, James?'

'I'm inclined to agree with you.'

'Would you join up?' Archie asked.

'I guess so. I was in the Officers' Training Corps at university so if I went into the army I'd probably be commissioned,' James said. 'What about you?'

'Oh, the navy, definitely the navy,' Archie said.

'But you're an architect. Not much call for architects in the navy, I wouldn't have thought,' Ned said with a smile.

'Oh, I'm sure they'll find a corner for me. I hope so, anyway. I've always had a hankering to go to sea.' Archie turned to Ned. 'What about you, Ned? What do you intend to do?'

Ned shrugged. 'I haven't decided. But it may not happen. I'll wait till it does before I make up my mind. But here comes Gina. Let's change the subject.' The three men got to their feet as a tall, beautiful-looking girl of twenty-three, her blonde hair caught up in a midnight-blue band that exactly matched her dress, came towards them.

'Finished your duty-dancing, darling?' Archie said as he held a chair for her.

'Mm. Just about. I'm exhausted.' She slipped off a high-heeled satin shoe and massaged her toes, managing at the same time to gaze proudly at the large square sapphire ringed with diamonds that Archie had recently placed on the fourth finger of her left hand.

'Well, I hope you've remembered you've saved the last dance for me,' he said, smiling at her. 'I can hear the band playing it now.'

'Oh yes, so it is. But if you don't mind, darling, we'll sit it out. My feet are killing me.' She glanced down at the gold and pearl watch Archie had given her as an extra engagement present. 'Oh, thank God. It's nearly eleven thirty. People will be going home soon.'

James burst out laughing. 'That's not very hospitable of you, Gina. By the way, where's Millie?'

'I'm not sure. I think she may have opted to make up a four at whist with the elderlies. You know our sister's no dancer.'

'She may be no dancer, but if she's opted for that she deserves a halo, I'd say.' James cupped his ear with his hand. 'Ah, do I hear carriages rolling? We'd better go and do our duty and bid our guests farewell.'

They all got to their feet and went inside, Archie with his arm firmly round his fiancée's waist.

A good deal later, when the last guest had gone and the rest of the family had retired, Sir George remained in his study with a few of his closer colleagues for several hours, discussing the worsening situation over brandy and cigars in an air of impending doom.

Not Adelaide. She went to bed tired but happy, smug in the knowledge that despite George's misgivings, the party had been a resounding success and with the added satisfaction that her eldest daughter was safely on the road to matrimony.

Below stairs the scene was less tranquil. All traces of the evening's activities had to be removed before those who had done all the hard work and made the whole thing happen without a hitch could even think of bed. The carpet had to be re-laid in the drawing room and all the furniture put back into place, glasses and plates collected from sometimes the most unlikely places and then washed and put away, floors swept and ash trays emptied. When it was all done to the satisfaction of Mr Walford, the butler, and only then, the staff could retire to their beds.

Polly Catchpole, Lady Adelaide's personal maid, was weary. Like all the others she had been on her feet since early morning and now she needed just five minutes to herself in the cool night air before going up to her little room under the eaves, where it was always stifling after a hot day.

She slipped quietly across the lawn to her favourite place, a seat hidden in the trees overlooking the lake. The moonlight was scattering pinpoints of light across the rippling water and it was all so tranquil she couldn't believe that all this talk of war she'd been hearing as she refilled glasses and handed round plates of pastries could be anything but that – just talk.

'Enjoying five minutes peace and quiet, Poll?' James Barsham appeared out of the trees and came and sat down beside her.

Polly immediately jumped up. 'Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr James,' she said quickly. 'I didn't realize you were there ...'

'Oh, don't be daft, Poll, we're not up at the house now. Sit down, for goodness' sake, you must be exhausted. I know I am and I haven't been up since the crack of dawn like you.' He lit a cigarette as she resumed her seat beside him, but keeping her distance.

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Excerpted from Meadowlands by Elizabeth Jeffrey. Copyright © 2014 Elizabeth Jeffrey. Excerpted by permission of Severn House Publishers Limited.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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