Fic: Troubled Times chapter 37 Part 2
Jun. 4th, 2011 08:36 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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indeedsir_backup“There's a bell in the room. If you need anything, ring it and one of us will come.”
“Thank you.”
After I had cleaned and changed from my travel worn clothes, I headed downstairs. I went to the sitting room where Margaret had come to study during my last visit.
She was sitting on the settee, feet tucked under her, and a book in her lap. I was a few steps into the room before she saw me. The book was dropped and she dashed forward with a cry of “Mr. Jeeves!”
I crouched down and opened my arms and she rushed into my embrace. Her arms wrapped around me in a tight hug.
When the embrace was over, we settled on the settee and I said, “It is good to see you, Miss Margaret. How are you doing?”
“I'm fine. Are you well?”
“I am.” I glanced down at the book next to me and said, “I see you have a spelling list. How is your school work progressing?”
“I'm doing very well.”
Being of the firm opinion that little girls were great talkers, I encouraged Margaret to converse on her life. She did talk easily to me but the conversation was not one-sided as I had planned for it to be. She had clearly read every one of my letters and wished to discuss them.
We had not talked long before she said, “I got your letter. Have you found a new place to live yet?”
“No, but there are several houses I plan to inspect as possible new places to live.”
She nodded. “Moving is hard. I...”
She glanced up at me, indecision on her face. I discerned that she was trying to determine whether to trust me with a confidence. I assured her, “You can tell me.”
Her dark eyes searched mine before she said, “I didn't want to leave London. I have friends there. Mum wanted to evacuate us but not because she was afraid of the war.”
Her shoulders lifted and she looked away from me, saying quietly, “My father is often three sheets to the wind.”
Her eyes met mine briefly to determine if I understood. When I nodded, she said, “He isn't very nice when he's that way. He throws things, says bad words, and hits people.”
I was very aware that these things happened, but the idea of someone hitting her angered me. I said nothing however and she continued, “So Mum thought it might be best for us to take the chance to go somewhere else. He got called up, so we could go home, but now the Jerries have made it unsafe.”
She patted my arm. “Donald and me are happy here. I miss my Mum, but we see her twice a month.” She looked up at me and said, “So maybe your new place will make you happy, too.”
“Thank you, Miss Margaret. You are very kind.” We exchanged smiles then I asked, “How is Abigail doing?”
“She misses her mother something fierce but besides for that she's happy.”
We were still talking when another little girl arrived at the door and said, “Dinner is ready.”
I answered, “Thank you. We will be there shortly.”
When we were alone again I said to Margaret, “I do not recognise the young lady who came to the door. What is her name?”
“Martha Cooper. She's been here six months.”
I knew about Martha Cooper. She and her siblings had been part of the second evacuation from London. She had three younger brothers and an older sister. The Artons had taken them in because no one else was willing to host all five of the children. They would have been separated.
I turned my attention completely to Margaret. Lifting her chin, I gazed into her eyes and said, “I do not want anyone hitting you or hurting you in any way. Promise me that if someone hurts you, you will write and tell me.”
Her voice was solemn as she replied, “I promise.”
There were crimes in the world that I fervently hoped that Margaret knew nothing about, however I intended to make sure that she knew she could talk to me. “No matter what is, if you are hurt or even if someone just frightens you, you can write and tell me about it. It does not matter what it is about. If you cannot write about it, remember to draw the cup on your letter, and I will come to you.”
The drawn cup was a symbol that we had agreed upon during my last visit. If I received a letter with a cup sketched on it, I would know that it was her signal to me that she was in some trouble that could not be expressed in words.
“I will. Thank you, Mr. Jeeves.”
I stood up and offered her a hand. “Before your father comes home, we will talk again and make plans.” I had no definite plan in mind but I hoped that by the time it was necessary I would have thought of some arrangement that would ensure her well-being.
When we reached the door, she looked up at me and said, “Always friends?”
“Always,” I promised.
After dinner that night, I helped Mr. Arton cover the windows with blackout curtains. Then we settled down in the sitting room and discussed how matters were going with the children. A long conversation with them assured me that they were doing well.
I left early the next morning. I hoped to reach Mr. Landry's residence by noon. It was a little after when I approached the house and knocked on the servant's door.
A heavyset woman swung open the door and said, “May I help you?”
“I would like to speak with Mr. Miller.”
Her eyes flashed and she said, “You, too, what? Well, I won't have someone else upset him. You have a complaint, you give it to me.”
Bewildered, I said gently, “My name is Reginald Jeeves. I am a friend of Miller's. Please give him my name and tell him that I would like to see him.”
She hesitated a moment before saying, “You may come in.”
Once inside she left me standing in the kitchen with a grim, “I'll ask him, I will.”
A young lady with red rimmed eyes said to me, “I'm Joan Armstrong. Have a seat. Would you like some coffee or lemonade?”
Her throat was hoarse and her eyes slightly puffy as if she had been crying for some time before my arrival. I answered, “No, thank you.”
I considered Miller a friend, but we were not close. We had exchanged a few letters and one of his messages to me had concerned his love for Joan. He had described her in very poetic terms that I had thought were probably highly influenced by his love for her. Still, looking at her now I could see that she was a beautiful young lady. Eleven years younger than Miller and only eighteen when he had written me. He had told me that he was waiting for her to turn twenty-one before speaking. I searched my mind for the memory of her birthday and came up with a day in November. If my memory was correct that would mean she had become twenty-one two months previous.
The heavyset woman returned and said to me, “Mr. Miller will see you. Follow me.”
As I followed her down a hallway, she said, “I'm Mrs. Parker. I'm sorry about the misunderstanding.”
I was shown into a small room where Miller sat behind a desk. He stood when I entered the room and said, “Jeeves, it is good to see you again! Have a seat and tell me what brings you to my part of the world.”
I took a seat and said, “It is good to see you again, too. It has been too long since we had a chance to sit and talk.”
He replied, “I have been trying to get the courage to write you all week. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about Roberts.”
“Thank you. Since when does it take courage to write an old friend?”
His dark blue eyes met mine and he answered, “Since it became widely known that my grandmother was Italian.”
“I have known that for some time. Erlin and I discussed it once and hoped it would not cause trouble for you. I take it you have experienced hardship on account of it?”
Relief flooded into his features at my matter-of-fact tone. He leaned forward and said, “The last six weeks have been just awful. I managed to keep it secret until then, but there was a change of command in my Home Guard unit. My old commander never mentioned my ancestry but this one took one look at my records and stated that he wasn't having an Italian in his unit.”
I let some of my ire show when I said, “Your father's family is recorded in the Doomsday book. You are not Italian.”
There was a soft knock on the door and Miller called, “Come in.”
Mrs. Parker entered the room with a tray that held coffee and biscuits. When she had departed, Miller said, “I was going to argue the issue with Foster. I do not speak Italian. I have never been to Italy and...”
His voice caught and I took a biscuit and did not look at him in order to give him a chance to regain his composure. When he spoke again his tone was one of firm conviction, “I love England. This is my country and I am willing to die for it.”
“Did you tell him that?”
He shook his head. “I started to but then he said that I should have been sent away when the other enemy aliens were and I will admit that I got scared.”
He took a sip of his coffee and his eyes met mine. They slid away quickly but not before I could see shame in them.
He said, “So instead of putting up a fight, I let them kick me out of the Home Guard and returned here to give my master notice.”
I replied, “I would not call that cowardice; I would call that wisdom. Do you remember a butler by the name of Contadino?”
He thought about it and shook his head. “A member of the Junior Ganymede Club?”
“He was. The government came in the middle of the night for him. His employer, a wealthy man accustomed to having his orders obeyed, protested in vain for him. His master continued the fight on his behalf in the days that followed and Erlin appealed to his employer. They managed to get the authorities to agree to release Contadino to his master, but they told his employer that should the man prove to be a spy they would both hang for it.”
Miller swallowed and reached for his coffee, taking a huge sip of it.
I continued, “If they would say that to a wealthy, powerful man then I think it was wisdom not cowardice on your part to leave without debating the issue. Anyone with an ounce of common sense would have been fearful. I would have taken his words concerning camps as a threat.”
Miller met my gaze and said, “I did take it that way. I am certain he meant it to be a threat. So Contadino is with his employer now?”
“No. When the papers were sent to the camp they discovered that he had died the previous day. He was seventy-nine years old and had served one family for forty-six years. Erlin thinks he died of a broken heart.”
“Oh, my heavens, that's terrible!” Miller said.
“So any fear on your part was justified and not cowardice but wisdom.”
His eyes jerked back up to mine and he said, “Thank you, Jeeves.”
“You are welcome. You mentioned giving your employer notice but as you are still here I gather that Mr. Landry refused to accept your resignation?”
“He was adamant that I was not going anywhere. I tried to explain to him all the possible consequences, but he said...”
There was a slight hesitation then Miller continued,”...that the consequences be damned.”
“You have always stated that your employer is a good man. I am glad your belief in him was proven to be well founded. How has Joan taken the matter?”
“We had just become engaged when this happened. She has refused to release me but has agreed to put the wedding off indefinitely. I do not want our children to suffer from my blood.”
I took a sip of my coffee and said, “The persecution has been so bad that you wish that you had never been born?”
The biscuit he had started to pick up dropped back to the tray. He said, “What? It has been very bad; people that were once friends no longer talk to me, and I had to go through the difficult process of switching grocers because Mr. Chapman will not sell anything to me.”
“Has it made you wish that you had never been born?” I repeated.
“No. I am glad for my life. I am still glad I was born in England. It's still my country.”
“Yet you believe your unborn children will suffer such persecution that they would wish not to exist?”
He stared at me for a moment then a smile touched his lips. “I did not view it that way.”
We ate in silence for a few minutes. He was plainly considering my words. After a time, he said, “If Joan marries me, people will avoid her, too. I have not hidden how hard it has been from her, but she feels she would be happier married to me, even if it means adversity, than living without me.”
I recalled the young lady's sad eyes when I replied, “This does appear to me to be something that should be her decision.”
I watched as the hesitancy in his face battled with a sense of hope. He stated,
“I'm only here for ten more days.”
“Just knowing you are willing to go ahead with the wedding when you can might make her happy. Where are you going?”
“People have started shunning Mr. Landry and his family because of me, so I asked Erlin to help me get enlisted. His employer, Mr. Margesson, sent me to a Mr. Harvey. I have never been questioned so thoroughly in all my life and the whole time I was very aware that he was trying to determine where my loyalties are. Eventually he was satisfied that I am no threat to England. He wanted to see some of my photography work, especially the pictures I took while in France. He was very pleased with them; so much so that he kept them. I am going to train to be a war correspondent. After training, I will be assigned a unit and take pictures so their deeds are recorded for history.
“Joan will be departing in twelve days. She decided to go to work in a factory. She does not wish to stay here where so many people have treated me with animosity. So I wouldn't be leaving her behind to deal with the hostility, but she could face it elsewhere.”
“Possibly but your last name is innocuous sounding, so it is equally likely that no one will question her. Should someone find out about your ancestor, it is probable that the fact that you are serving England, would prevent anyone from treating her with malice.” Indeed, I considered the risk to the young lady to be minimal once he started training.
He leaned back in his chair and picked up a biscuit. “We have talked about me but you have not told me the reason for the honour of your visit.”
I put my cup down and said, “I have a friend who is getting married in a few months. They can get a camera but are having trouble finding film.”
He said, “I put some film aside before the war because I could not bear the thought of living without it. I can give you some film. I still have five rolls. How many do you want?”
“One should be enough. Thank you! They will be very happy to have it.”
He stood up and said, “I will fetch it.”
When he returned he placed a black bag in front of me. “The film is inside.”
“What do I owe you?”
“Nothing. I believe I still owe you for the comfort you have given me today. You have relieved the shame I was feeling over my actions.”
“I am glad I could be of help.”
We spoke for some time of Roberts and our employers before I departed. As I left, I passed Joan in the kitchen and silently I wished her the best.
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no subject
Date: 2011-06-05 04:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-05 05:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-05 06:02 am (UTC)That's terrible what happened to Miller and Contadino. I was aware that people with German ties faced discrimination, but for some reason I didn't think of those with an Italian heritage. How bad did the situation get for them?
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Date: 2011-06-05 07:02 am (UTC)I could be wrong, but in my research I haven't encountered anyone being killed as a result of having Italian connections. I have read of their shops being destroyed and their businesses boycotted {a very typical happening}. In my next chapter, I'll mention the signs that some stores had that stated that they were completely British. Some people were sent to camps as those with German ties were. They often faced animosity and distrust.
Thanks for the reply!
no subject
Date: 2011-06-05 07:36 am (UTC)You mean like the internment camps in America for Japanese-Americans? I had no idea England had those. :(
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Date: 2011-06-05 08:04 am (UTC)http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/timeline/factfiles/nonflash/a6651858.shtml
It's sad stuff but at least there were those in Parliament that were objecting.
no subject
Date: 2011-06-05 08:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-05 09:09 am (UTC)Suspicion/fear can make people do hurtful things to each other. :(
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Date: 2011-06-05 01:38 pm (UTC)And poor Jeeves! I hope he and Bertie are reunited soon.
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Date: 2011-06-06 04:13 am (UTC)The reunion is in the next chapter.
Thank you!