On a bed of daffodil sky,
To faint in the light of the sun she loves,
To faint in his light—and die.
His outstretched arms dropped to his side, and he bowed the smallest of bows as everyone applauded.
“We courted for a little bit, got married, came to work here, and have never left,” Maude said, her eyes glistening. “And that’s how we became the Broadcastle family.”
“And an essential part of the Neville-Percy family too,” Elinor said.
Edmund took his seat, feeling pleased with himself.
“Hector and Caitrin?” Elinor said. “I know it’s all terribly secret, but do tell us what you can about the first meeting.”
“We were introduced by a short, bald, round man smelling of whisky, puffing a stinking cigar, and wearing a sky-blue velvet romper suit,” Caitrin said. “And I suggested that Hecky here might want to think about playing nicely with the other children by sharing some of his names.”
It was quiet.
Elinor turned her gaze from Caitrin to Hector. “Would the defense like to respond?”
Hector sat back in his chair and spread his hands. “Guilty, m’lady. Strip me of my names and banish me to the dungeons.”
“Instead I think we should have brandy,” Elinor said.
Edmund got to his feet. “I know where it is.”
* * *
Later, once the Broadcastles had gone to bed, Edmund singing, “Come into the Garden, Maud,” all the way down the hall as they went, Elinor, Hector, and Caitrin huddled around the fireplace.
“What a wonderful and unexpected evening,” Elinor said. “I so enjoyed hearing voices and laughter again and—”
“Edmund singing,” Caitrin said.
Elinor laughed. “And imagine him being an expert on George Armstrong Custer. I would never have thought it.”
“Neither would I. You have broken the separation between them and you.”
Elinor shook her head. “It would be nice to think so, but no, I very much doubt that. We’re English, so I’m sure tomorrow it will be back to yes, Ma’am; no, Ma’am; very well, Ma’am. Nothing will change.”
“But things are changing,” Caitrin said.
“This awful war?”
“No, much worse than that,” Hector said. “Caitrin is an ardent socialist.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
“It means I want a better life for working men and women and their children.”
“But what exactly does that mean?”
“Would you mind if we didn’t talk about it?” Caitrin said. “This has been such a pleasant evening, and I would hate to spoil it by talking about political differences.”
“Agreed.”
“I will tell you this, though,” Caitrin said. “I know my mum would like you.”
“And I’m sure I would like her.” Elinor shot a pointed glance at Hector. “One never knows, perhaps a day will come when we will find the perfect occasion to meet.”
14
Caitrin sat upright in her bed and glared at Hector, or at least at what little she recognized of him in the darkness. “Again, Hecky? You’ve come barging into my room at, let me guess, the crack o’ dawn, to wake me up. Again?” She noticed he had taken several precautionary steps away from her. “Don’t worry, I won’t flatten you this time.”
“I came because we have to leave, now.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t sleep, so I went down to Houndale and called London. You were right about a bomb dropping on the telephone exchange. Direct hit caused havoc. But now the damage has been repaired, not all of it because it was—”
“Hecky, is there any chance we, you, could get to the heart of the matter? I’m sorry, but I’m a grumpy bear in the morning until I’ve had my first cup of tea.”
“The Talisman.”
“The Talisman?”
“The submarine Talisman we were supposed to meet at Greenock. I was told there’s a bit of a problem.”
