In Farleigh Field: A Novel of World War II

“Ruby, where did you hear such language?” Mr. Soames demanded. “It’s not what I expect from the servants in a house like this.”

“I heard it from Elsie,” Ruby said. “She was telling Jenny. And she gets it from the picture papers. They’re always talking about sex in Hollywood. Anyway, Elsie said them soldiers are all sex-starved. Some of them invited her to go to the pub with them when she was polishing the door knocker.”

“I hope she put them in their place,” Mrs. Mortlock said. “Speak to her, Mr. Soames. We can’t let down standards just because there’s a war on.”

“I most certainly will speak to her, Mrs. Mortlock. That’s what happens when there’s no housekeeper and no senior servants to supervise things. The young ones get ideas.”

“Did they say what kind of body it was?” Mrs. Mortlock asked.

“I bet they lured some girl from the village here and had their way with her and she died of shock,” Ruby went on.

“That’s enough, Ruby,” Mr. Soames said firmly. “I don’t wish to hear such talk again.”

“And luckily, Ruby will be so fully occupied with washing up and peeling potatoes that she is not likely to encounter any of the soldiers,” Mrs. Mortlock said, giving Ruby a long warning look. “And if she doesn’t get a move on, we’ll be behind with the luncheon. I don’t know what his lordship will say when he finds out it’s vegetable pie again, but we’ve no more meat coupons for the rest of the month.”

“It don’t seem fair that the family can’t eat their own meat when they’ve got a farm and all them animals.”

“Those animals, Ruby. Really your grammar leaves a lot to be desired!” Mr. Soames sighed.

“I’m not really complaining,” Mrs. Mortlock said. “I know we do better than most, and it’s only right that those that raise food share it with those who live in the cities. But it’s certainly a challenge trying to come up with appetizing meals on the ration of a quarter pound of meat per person per week.”

“And it don’t seem fair that I’m stuck in a kitchen washing up when I could be making good money in a factory,” Ruby muttered, half to herself.

“And what factory would take you?” Mrs. Mortlock demanded. “You have to be sharp and nimble to work in a factory. You’re all thumbs. You wouldn’t last a day. No, my girl. You thank your lucky stars her ladyship took you on here. Otherwise, it would have been a land girl, digging potatoes out in the freezing rain.”

“I wouldn’t mind. At least there would be people to talk to,” Ruby said. “It’s no fun now all the footmen have gone, and we’re down to Elsie and Jenny and her ladyship’s maid and nanny.”

“It’s not exactly fun for us, either, Ruby,” Mr. Soames said. “I am not thrilled about waiting at table and doing footmen’s work at my age and with my seniority. But I do it cheerfully, knowing that the family depends on me. Above all, we do not let the family down. We try to make it seem that this place is running as it always had. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mr. Soames,” Ruby said in a dutiful voice.

“Don’t you think we should send up some hot cocoa with brandy in it to Lady Phoebe?” Mrs. Mortlock asked. “They say brandy is the thing for shock, don’t they?”

“Knowing young people, I suspect that Lady Phoebe is more thrilled than shocked at finding a body, Mrs. Mortlock, and will now be tucking into a large and satisfying breakfast.” Mr. Soames smiled as he walked toward the door.



Phoebe was just coming out of her bedroom when a door farther down the hall opened, and a bleary-eyed head poked out. “Was that you running up and down the hall and waking everyone at the crack of dawn?” Lady Diana Sutton asked in a petulant voice. She was wearing blue silk pyjamas, and her blonde bob was tousled.

“Dawn cracked hours ago, Dido,” Phoebe said. “I’ve already been out riding, and you’ll never guess what I found!”

“I can hardly wait. The suspense is killing me.” Lady Diana came out into the hall and leaned against the doorframe, in what she hoped was a blasé and sophisticated manner. “Could it have been mushrooms? Or a fox maybe?”

“It was a body, Dido,” Phoebe said.

“A body? Of a person? Dead?”

“Bodies usually are. And this one was very dead indeed. It had fallen from an aeroplane.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because he was wearing the remains of a parachute that didn’t open properly.”

“Golly.” Dido suddenly forgot her sophistication. “Have you told Pah?”

“Yes, and he’s gone to talk to the army people.”

“Hold on a minute,” Lady Diana said. “I’ll get some clothes on, and you can show me before they move it away.”

“I don’t think Pah would like that,” Phoebe said. “Not when he’s with the army people.”

“Don’t be such a wet blanket, Feebs,” Diana said. “You know I have to make the most of the only excitement we’re likely to get around here. I don’t know about you, but I’m dying of boredom. It’s just not fair. I should have had my season and come out by now. I might even have been engaged to a yummy French count like Margot is. Instead, there are only boring soldiers and aged farmers, and Pah won’t even let me go up to London. He won’t even let me be a land girl because he says the farmhands only have one thing on their minds. Doesn’t he know that I’m positively drooling for that one thing?”

“What thing is that?” Phoebe asked. “A boyfriend?”

“Sex, darling. You don’t understand, but you will one day.” She gave Phoebe a withering look. “I hate this stupid war. And I’m going to take a look at that body whether you show me or not.” She turned and went back into her bedroom, slamming the door so that the pictures on the wall shook dangerously on their hooks.





CHAPTER FOUR


A field at Farleigh


May 1941



“Well?” Lord Westerham looked up at the officer standing beside him. “One of yours, is he?” He was not at all pleased with having the Royal West Kents taking over his house, but he tolerated Colonel Pritchard, their commanding officer, reasonably well. He was a gentleman, one of the right sort, and he had gone to some trouble to make sure the army caused the least disruption possible.

Colonel Pritchard looked rather green about the gills as he stared down at the corpse. He was a small, dapper man with a neat little mustache. Out of uniform, he would not have been taken for a soldier—a city gent maybe, or a bank manager. He now moved his shoe out of the area of blood-soaked grass. “Our chaps don’t go leaping out of aeroplanes,” he said. “We’re strictly infantry.”

“But isn’t he wearing your uniform?”

“Hard to tell. Looks a little like it.” The colonel frowned. “But as I say, if any man under my command had been given permission to jump out of a plane, I should have been told. Besides, I also should have heard if they were not all present and accounted for.”