Royal(6)
After they finished tea, the countess took Charlotte up to her bedroom, and for an instant she was shocked.
“I wanted to give you one of our guest rooms, Your Royal Highness,” she said in a soft voice, “but we don’t want to make anyone aware of your position. Your mother particularly asked me not to, in the letter she sent me, so we gave you the room next to Lucy.” It was one of the old servants’ rooms on the top floor, with a view of the hills, the forests, and the lake on their estate. The room was just big enough for the bed, a chest, a small desk and a chair, and had been used for one of their maids before the war. There were only two of the women left now. Their rooms were down the hall, and no better than Charlotte’s. Since she had never visited any of the maids’ rooms in any of her parents’ palaces, she had no idea how it compared to theirs. But this was a small, dark, cheerless room with nothing to distinguish it, and nothing on the walls. On the way upstairs she had noticed that the manor was in need of paint, many of the curtains were shredded by the sunlight, and some of the rugs were threadbare in several places. The furniture was handsome, but the house itself was dark and drafty, cool in the summer months, but undoubtedly freezing cold in winter, heated only by the fireplaces in the rooms downstairs. It was not at all the kind of room that Charlotte was used to, and she still looked startled when she came downstairs to say goodbye to Felicity and Charles. They left as soon as they had eaten, to get back to London by that night, before the blackout. They were in a hurry to leave. Charlotte shook hands with both of them, and thanked them for accompanying her. Charles had to stop himself from bowing, and Felicity forgot herself and curtsied to her, but only the countess saw it. No one else was with them.
Charlotte went back upstairs then to unpack her bags. She had to leave some of her clothes in her suitcase, for lack of closet and cupboard space, but she didn’t mind. She changed into her riding clothes, and was putting on her hat when Lucy walked into the room, and studied her keenly. Her riding habit was simple, but it was obvious that everything she owned was of the highest quality, perfectly cut, in fine fabrics, and fit Charlotte’s tiny form impeccably.
“Are they your parents?” Lucy asked, referring to Felicity and Charles, and Charlotte shook her head, not sure what to say, and how to explain them. She noticed Lucy’s East End accent immediately.
“They’re friends who offered to drive me here, since they have a car, and my parents don’t, and they couldn’t leave London.” It was all she could think of to say, to explain them, but a closer look would have identified them as employees, which Lucy hadn’t noticed. The thought never occurred to her, although she could see that Charlotte must be wellborn, from her manners, her accent, and her clothes. She was very pleasant to Lucy. “Do you ride?” Lucy responded by shaking her head with a look of panic.
“I’m afraid of horses. They look like big frightening beasts to me. What do your parents do?” She wanted to know more about the intriguing newcomer. They spoke with very different accents. Charlotte with the distinct diction of the upper classes, and Lucy’s was pure London commoner. They came from two very different worlds.
There was a pause as Charlotte sought rapidly for an answer to Lucy’s question about her parents. She hadn’t thought of what to say if anyone asked her. “My father works for the government as a civil servant, and my mother is a secretary.” It was a long way from the truth, but the best she could come up with. Lucy was a tall dark-haired girl with a plain pale face, and she seemed fascinated by Charlotte, though not particularly warm, and somewhat awkward. Charlotte felt like an intruder on the young woman’s turf, which was how Lucy viewed her. Everything had been perfect there till then, and she had Henry’s attention for herself, although he didn’t speak to her often or at great length. At dinner, he spoke mostly to his parents about the farms, and ignored her.
“That sounds fancy,” Lucy commented. “Where do you live?”
“In Putney,” Charlotte answered quickly, and Lucy nodded, satisfied with her response. It was a pleasant middle-class neighborhood, and she believed her.
“My father was a cobbler and my mother was a seamstress. She used to help him at the shop sometimes.” Lucy’s eyes filled with tears as she said it, and Charlotte wanted to reach out to her but didn’t dare. “Do you have brothers and sisters? I don’t have none. I’m alone now, and I will be when I go back to London after the war.”
“I’m so sorry,” Charlotte said as Lucy nodded and turned away, as she wiped the tears from her cheeks, and Charlotte adjusted her riding hat, and said she had two sisters, and then picked up her crop and gloves, to go out to the stables. She could hardly wait to see Pharaoh, bringing him here was almost like having a friend from home with her. Charles had told her that her father was paying for his upkeep, so as not to be a burden on the Hemmingses. Her mother had told her that they were paying for her to stay there too. The Hemmingses were grateful to have the assistance, although slightly embarrassed to take it. They had no income from the farms at the moment, since all of what they grew was controlled by the government’s Ministry of Food, and they ate whatever was left. Several of the wives on the farms had planted home gardens, and kept chickens and rabbits to eat. And their daughters had joined the Women’s Land Army and become Land Girls.