Chapter 25
A blackbird singing
On a moss upholstered stone,
Bluebells swinging,
Shadows wildly blown,
A song in the wood,
A ship on the sea.
The song was for you
And the ship was for me.
—Francis Ledwidge
To One Dead
Captain Davies planned to meet Ashley and Rook at the station with a motor car to ferry them off to his country estate. Ash held her breath when she glimpsed him, his golden hair now liberally streaked with strands of silver grey.
The burns that ended his time in France had left a swath of scar tissue which peeked out of his collar, running up his neck, left cheek, and chin. His arms and hands were hidden by a suit of summer tweed and the finest hazelnut driving gloves she’d ever seen.
He seemed to recognize Rook immediately, joyfully, then Rook’s hand found the small of Ashley’s back, a warm comfort nudging her forward. “Screw your courage to the sticking place,” he whispered.
The captain scanned her face and features once, then quickly a second time, his quizzical eyes beginning to dance with glee.
“Private Ashley?” he said in wonder.
“Sir.”
“A girl. All this time. Did you know?” he asked, turning a playful scowl of accusation upon Rook.
“Hadn’t the faintest idea. Suppose I was too full of my own worries.”
“Yes, well, it was a worrisome time,” Captain Davies said, offering Ashley his gloved hand and then awkwardly reaching to hug her. When he stepped back, he was still grinning and shaking his head. “A girl—woman, I suppose I should say. Delightful. Well done, you. Are you on the stage now?”
“No. A teacher.”
“Dickens and Shakespeare, I expect.”
“Sometimes.”
“Very good. Well, shall we?” he asked, taking both of their suitcases in hand and leading the way to his vehicle, a smart, burgundy four door with three head lamps in the front and three windows down each side.
“When did you get an Austin?” Rook asked as the captain loaded their suitcases into the back.
Davies merely grinned. “You should get a load of the new model that’s coming out.”
“Aye?”
“Sleekest lines you’ve ever seen. Truly modern. Still prefer the front seat for your leg?” he asked, surprising Ashley a little with his frankness.
Rook pondered a moment, unfazed. “I think so. D’you mind?” he asked Ash.
“Course not,” she said, settling into the back like some kind of fine lady with a well-paid chauffeur.
“A woman,” Davies repeated. “Remarkable.”
“You’re not angry at the ruse?”
“I have about a million questions. I suppose I can find forgiveness in my heart if you allow me to ask one or two?”
“Fire away.”
Davies maneuvered the car out onto the road, before turning to Rook. “Private Ashley gives me permission to fire at will, but where do I begin?”
Rook shook his head, amused.
“Why did you do it? Were you hungry for adventure?”
“Not exactly.”
“No? Do women not like adventure?” he asked a bemused Rook who shrugged noncommittally.
Before Ash could answer, Davies went on, “Never mind. How on earth did you pass the physical? Is that an appropriate question for a lady?” he added to Rook. “Did you bribe someone? Wait, is that why you had no training?”
His mind seemed to be spinning faster than a top. Had she broken him? Was this what shock looked like in the healthy?
“Are you quite well?” Rook asked him, and Davies burst out laughing.
“Right-oh,” he agreed. “I’ll just ask you this. Was it worth it?”
“Yes,” Ash said, studying Rook’s face in profile. “In the main.”
“And you really didn’t know?” Davies asked Rook, causing a pang in Ashley’s chest.
“Hand to God. Not until last January. Tomasson was the only one who figured it out.”
“Sly old Tom,” the captain remarked fondly before they all settled into their own silent thoughts as the countryside rolled by, with Davies periodically directing their attention to some or another point of interest.
“This is a beautiful area,” Ash said.
“Nowhere on earth like it. Though I suppose we’re all rather partial to home.”
“I appreciate it all the more for not having to march across it,” Rook teased, as though blaming the captain for making them march all over France.
“You always were a lazy son of a gun, Lance Corporal. Frankly, I should’ve made you march quite a bit more often,” Davies replied, eliciting a great guffaw.
Ashley envied their easy repartee. She’d missed it, not as much as she’d missed Rook himself, and yet she’d missed it an extraordinary amount. She’d never made easy friends with women, even before the war, but after? How could she, when she longed for the company of men she thought were dead?
Oh, she’d developed a few almost-close acquaintances over the years, but nothing like the bonds she’d formed under fire and far from home.
But as the miles fell away, their warm, friendly banter gave her the most unsettling sense of falling back through time.
The patter of familiar voices had been a comfort in her youth, helping tune out even the worst barrage of war, but now it merely heightened her sense that everything was happening all over again.
When they reached the captain’s estate, Ash felt certain she was dreaming. Of course it would be massive to be dubbed Collingwood Park, but somehow she hadn’t been prepared for the Greek-columned portico that appeared as they careened up the sweeping drive.
She’d known he had polish and likely a fair amount of money, but she hadn’t realized he came with a butler at the door, a footman and a maid to show them to their compartments on the second floor.
“Same room as always, old chap. You know the one,” he told Rook when they began their slow journey up the stairs.
Rook’s was the first room on the left, Ashley’s just across the gilded corridor.
She supposed in a house like this one, guests were expected to change for dinner, but she had only removed her hat and splashed water on her face before she heard the click of Rook’s door opening and closing and his footsteps in the hall.
“Is he a duke?” she whispered, gawking at gold-framed portraits as they made their way slowly back down the stairs.
He chuckled. “A baronet, I think. I forgot how overwhelming it can all be.”
“Oh, just a baronet is all. Blimey,” Ash whispered, and Rook laughed again.
Dinner was only the three of them, sitting close together at a grand table in a grand room that was meant for grander guests than Charley Ashley.
“I know to do things properly I should’ve invited about nine more guests, but I never really went in for that sort of thing. You don’t mind, do you?” the captain asked apologetically. “Would’ve gotten the numbers wrong anyway, thanks to your cheeky surprise. Too many ladies, not enough gents.”
“Mind not having an audience for my infamous unveiling? I prefer it,” Ash teased.
“You know me,” Rook said, taking a sip of his wine and pausing to appreciate the flavor.
“Still a lone wolf?”
Rook glanced at Ashley. “More or less.”
She felt a flush creep up her cheeks, and gulped her own wine to hide it, relieved to notice Davies hadn’t changed for dinner either. He’d exchanged his driving gloves for a more formal pearl-shade and removed his light brown cap, but that was all.
Up close in candlelight, the scarring on his cheek was whiter than the rest of his face, and part of the left brow was gone for good, but his eyes held an almost boyish gleam rarely seen in the trenches and it was a balm to know he was doing quite so well.
“Truthfully, I’m a little disappointed not to have more witnesses to your great charade, Ashley. Crikey, do I still call you Ashley?”
“I hope you will, Captain.”
“Oh, please, none of that. Our war is long since over, and we’re practically of an age. You may call me Henry. Or Davies, if you must.”
Ash glanced at Rook. “He still calls you Cap.”
“Yes, but he’s incorrigibly stubborn and pretends I saved his life.”
“You did,” Rook replied.
“Pish tosh. Now, about you being a woman—”
“I am sorry for lying to you—”
“No, no, I don’t care about that at all. Only I think you’re a testament that the army should throw the doors wide open to the fairer sex. You were worth two of most men. Do you keep in touch with any of the others?”
“Only this one,” she said, nodding again to Rook, before focusing on her deliciously creamy soup. “And that’s fairly recent.”
“January, you said? I suppose that explains why no one bothered to tell me about you.”
“Are you in touch with many from the old days?” she asked, another flicker of jealousy stabbing deep beneath her ribs.
“As many as I’m able. Lately, I’ve been quite busy.”
“In the House of Lords?” Ashley asked innocently, and Rook choked on his soup.
“Working for the Home Office. I’ve been partnering with the Anderson Committee and the Department of Health on… plans.”
“War plans?”
He set down his spoon and regarded them, deciding, perhaps, that he could trust them both.
“Evacuation plans, in point of fact. No one wants a repeat of the air raids from the last war, and I think we can safely assume Germany won’t use zeppelins this time round.
They’ll be faster. More precise. Harder to repel. ”
A cold chill washed over Ash, her spoon rattling against her dish. She wanted to ask if he really thought they were likely to be attacked again, but of course he thought so. She thought so too.
“You plan to evacuate the whole of London?” Rook asked.
“I’m afraid not. Just the children and expectant mothers, but from all major cities. It’s an entirely imperfect and inadequate solution, but it’s something.”
“All of them?” Ashley asked. “Even those from the East End?” Even her students?
“As many as we can,” Davies promised. “I’m sorry, I suppose that means you mightn’t have any students left to teach for a little while.”
She shook her head. “No, that’s good. I want them to be safe.”
“What will you do with yourself? A teacher with no pupils? Please don’t say you’ll put on trousers and join up again.”
“No.” She shuddered. “Those days are, as you said, long since past. I was a nurse for the last month of the war. The last war. I suppose they’ll be needed again in spades.”