The Wartime Matchmakers, page 48
“I brought a dozen photos of myself.” Mr. Jackson held up a stack of printed military photos. “I thought it would be helpful for any woman I write to see one so that she’ll know exactly what I look like. I don’t want to confuse anyone.”
Elizabeth took one of the photos and studied it, noticing how dashing Mr. Jackson looked in his uniform. They hadn’t had any black clients register yet, but Elizabeth knew she had plenty of British women and even women from other countries who were war refugees who had specifically mentioned they had no prejudice when it came to race as far as their potential matches were concerned.
“That’s an excellent idea, Mr. Jackson. I do have a fairly extensive list of young women who indicated they had no preference of race when it came to introductions. We’ll start with these ladies. Now, let me ask you, what is the most important quality in a partner for you?”
Mr. Jackson’s gaze softened, and he smiled. “I want a woman who likes to laugh and cook. She doesn’t have to be good at cooking, I’m a good cook myself, but I’d want to spend time with her in the kitchen, even teach her to cook if she liked.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Elizabeth admitted with a smile. She ran him through the other standard questions and was quite satisfied, with at least a dozen possible matches in mind for him. He then paid a small fee to register, and she interviewed Mr. Nolan next. When the three soldiers left, Hetty sat down beside Elizabeth.
“Well, that was unexpected,” Hetty admitted.
“But certainly welcome. I was quite happy to know they wanted to see us, that they felt they could come here and be treated fairly. They all want to stay in England after the war.” Elizabeth created a trio of folders for their new clients.
“Can you blame them? I saw a fight last week on the street between several soldiers. It was terrible. Did you know that every American soldier both white and black needs his commanding officer’s permission to marry?”
“What?” Elizabeth nearly spilled her tea.
“Yes, and the three gentlemen we just met with have been given permission to marry if they promise to stay in England. Apparently, their commanding officer doesn’t want them to return. What a prig,” Hetty scoffed.
“That’s such nonsense,” Elizabeth muttered. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that love isn’t restrained by boundaries. Love can exist anywhere between anyone.” Uncle George and Aabha were a perfect example of that.
Hetty nodded, her gaze suddenly distant. “Mr. Anderson said something to me that worried me, though,” she replied.
“Oh?”
“He said that in June we ought to be careful. We should stay in the country for a while.”
Elizabeth tucked the files into the filing cabinet. “Why would he say that?”
“He couldn’t tell me, but he said that if I noticed troops moving south, it was time to leave London for at least a few weeks. It sounded terribly ominous.”
“Perhaps it’s some kind of military signal? We can ask the colonel about it.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
That evening, Elizabeth phoned the colonel, who confirmed that something was definitely in motion. Thousands of soldiers were arriving in England each day, and hundreds of planes had flown over Cunningham House in the last few days. All of them were headed toward Biggin Hill.
“If those soldiers told you to leave London, I would listen to them,” the colonel advised.
Over the next two months, the steady flow of troops trickled to a stop and the streets of London were suddenly eerily empty after everyone had become used to the lively activity of the American GIs roaming the streets with their boyish smiles and money to spend. By early June, it was as if the American soldiers had never been in London at all.
“I miss them, the Yanks,” Hetty said as she and Elizabeth closed up the bureau offices for the day. “They were so merry, and now everything is so quiet. All the shops and restaurants are practically empty.”
Elizabeth sighed. “I miss the stockings.”
More than half a dozen soldiers had paid for their registration fees at the bureau using fresh stockings. Elizabeth, Hetty, and even Miss Plumley had benefited from them. It had been bad enough that a few days a week Elizabeth had to draw a seam line on her bare legs with ink to make it look like she wore stockings. Now, thanks to the GIs, she had several new pairs.
“Do you think London will ever feel the way it used to?” Elizabeth asked as they passed through the darkened reception toward the front door.
“I think it will, though it may take a very long time.”
When they stepped outside, Elizabeth was met with the welcome sight of a dashing RAF pilot leaning against the brick wall by the steps of the bureau’s front door. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his hat was tipped at a rakish angle.
“Philip!” She flew down the steps, and he caught her in his arms. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m off for a few hours tonight,” he said. “I was in London for a meeting with the Americans, specifically the US Army Air Forces.”
“The colonel mentioned he’d seen several planes overhead recently.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek, and he tapped the tip of her nose with his finger.
“I’m sure he did. We’ve been slowly building a joint task force.” Philip met Hetty’s gaze as she came down the stairs to join them. “I’m afraid I need to speak to you both, though. Somewhere private.”
“Let’s go home,” Hetty suggested.
The three of them walked back to Hetty’s townhouse, where Isabelle had dinner waiting for them. She’d made some mince pies, shortbread, and she’d even found honey to spread on wholemeal bread for tea. She had also crafted a gooseberry tart that she’d baked in a deep dish.
“Thank goodness Isabelle can cook,” Hetty said with a chuckle.
Jarvis collected the plates from the table, then went to check on Teddy, who had been put to bed half an hour before. The butler had grown fiercely protective of the little boy. Philip finished his glass of scotch and then cleared his throat.
“What I’m about to say must not leave this room. You understand?”
The women all answered in agreement.
“There are plans to move on Europe soon. Very soon. I want all three of you to go to Cunningham House tomorrow, or at least leave London. Pack everything of value and stay there for a few weeks.”
Elizabeth reached for his hand on the table and covered it with hers. “Philip—”
“Please, Lizzie, I can’t say more. All I can tell you is that we’ve heard rumors of a revenge weapon, as the Germans call it. We do not want any of you caught up in whatever happens with it.”
“We’ll make plans to leave in the morning,” Hetty promised. “We can work from the country, after all,” Hetty said. “We’ll tell Miss Plumley to come with us. Isabelle, what about you? Will you join us at Cunningham House?”
“I think I’ll go to Scotland again. Mr. Hartnell is looking for more designs for countrywear, and the Highlands always inspire me the most.”
Elizabeth watched Philip. That creeping stillness she had felt the night of Alan’s death was back. She had a terrible feeling that whatever Philip wasn’t saying was something he didn’t want to worry her with, but that only made her worry all the more.
After dinner, the others went upstairs, leaving Philip and Elizabeth alone in the drawing room. He sat on the sofa, and Elizabeth curled up beside him, wrapping an arm around his chest as they listened to music playing on the wireless. She tucked her head against his neck and closed her eyes.
“You would tell me if you’re planning to do something dangerous and reckless, wouldn’t you?”
He chuckled, but the sound didn’t carry the same mirth it usually did.
“You know me, Lizzie. Dangerous is all this war is. I have to do whatever I’m called upon to do.”
“I mean it, Philip. Don’t you dare play the hero and get yourself killed.”
He curled his arm around her waist as he slid her onto his lap to hold her closer. “You deserve a hero,” he whispered. “You deserve everything a man can give of himself.”
She placed her fingertips against his lips, silencing him. “No. No more of that talk. That’s the sort of thing a man says before he goes and does something bloody noble and dies. I won’t let you, do you understand? You aren’t free to let go like that.”
There was silence between them as she composed herself. “I’ve already let this war take a part of my heart. I won’t let it have the rest. I won’t let it have you.” She dropped her fingers from his lips and leaned in, softly kissing him. Her heart ached, and that cavernous space left by Alan’s death rumbled ominously within her, reminding her what it felt like to lose someone. Her mouth trembled against his, and tears coated her cheeks as she clung to him.
“If I had my life to do all over again,” he said softly, blue eyes glowing bright, “I would do everything to find you sooner, so I might love you longer.”
She buried her face in his neck, crying softly for everything they might never have if he never came home. What she felt in Philip’s arms was unending, like an ever-expanding universe with new stars born every minute from swirling cosmic dust. New worlds, new horizons lay before her so long as he was alive. To lose him now would leave her universe dark and cold, without a hint of starlight.
“Love me tonight?” She spoke the word without fear now. Love. It was the only word that held any power for her now, and she would wield it as a shield against the darkness.
“Now and always, for as long as you’ll let me.” He lowered his head to hers, and Elizabeth surrendered to his kiss, even as her heart feared what the future held.
June 6, 1944
The D-Day landings marked the beginning of the liberation of France and Western Europe, the largest amphibious operation in history. Relying on the knowledge of meteorologists, scientists, inventors, and the combined might of the militaries of thirteen nations, along with tens of thousands of members of the French resistance, it would become one of the most significant battles in the history of humanity.
Just after midnight, 23,400 allied paratroopers were dropped into Normandy, providing tactical support to the troops landing on the beaches. The Allied fleet opened up their guns along the beaches of Normandy, encompassing fifty miles of coastline to keep the German bunkers distracted as the Allied troops landed. Their actions secured a foothold in mainland Europe for the first time in three years.
At ten o’clock in the morning, Elizabeth, Hetty, Mrs. Harrow, Eva, Miss Plumley and Colonel Cunningham sat in the drawing room, listening to the BBC Home Service as John Snagge announced the words that would change their world forever.
“D-Day has come. Early this morning, the Allies began the assault on the northwestern face of Hitler’s European fortress. The first official news came just after nine thirty, when the supreme headquarters of the Allied Expeditionary Force issued communiqué number one. This said: Under the command of General Eisenhower, Allied naval forces, supported by strong air forces, began landing Allied armies this morning on the northern coast of France.”
Elizabeth held her breath as the announcer’s words had her complete focus.
“Supported by strong air forces . . .” Philip was flying at that moment along the coast of France. He was a part of this. That was what he hadn’t been able to tell her.
“Dear God. They just might do it.” The colonel collapsed into the nearest chair as tears rolled down his cheeks. “Our boys will win now . . . My God, they’ll win.”
“How can you be certain?” Hetty asked, her eyes full of tears. No doubt she was thinking of Charles.
“Because of the number of men, the concerted effort of all three branches of the armies, navies, and air forces of thirteen nations at last unified on the side of right. If they successfully manage this landing and keep gaining ground, the Jerries won’t be able to drive them back. They no longer have the resources, not against this many Allied troops working together.” The colonel wiped the tears from his face, still smiling.
Elizabeth wished she felt as certain about winning the war as the colonel did. All she could think about was Alan and how he hadn’t lived to see this day. So many other lads like him were gone, and men like Charles, Marcus, Philip, and Nathan were still out there fighting ever onward toward that final victory, no matter what it might cost.
The week that followed D-day, all of England—all of the world, in fact—was abuzz with the news. For the first time, hope bloomed like the golden crocuses in the little flower beds near the Marriage Bureau’s doors.
But the warnings they’d been given had not been forgotten. Within a week, word reached Cunningham House that a new danger far more terrifying than the bombs England had faced during the Blitz had arrived. Elizabeth was never more glad they had taken the advice of the American soldiers who’d visited their office.
V-1 flying bombs were suddenly launching off the coast of France and reaching London. These were indeed weapons of vengeance, a repayment to innocent civilians for the brave actions of the forces who had landed on Normandy’s beaches.
It felt like the world was ending all over again as the city became a ghost town for a second time. The V-1s, sometimes called buzz bombs or doodlebugs, filled everyone with fear. They were much harder to see coming than fleets of German bombers, and the destruction from a single V-1 was much bigger than what previous Blitz bombs had managed. Hetty sent Teddy to stay at Lord and Lady Lonsdale’s country estate until the war was over. It broke her heart to be separated from her son, but it was the only way she could keep him safe. Even Cunningham House was too close to London and the V-1s for it to be entirely free of risk. The unpredictability of the V-1s meant that they often didn’t reach London itself and instead would explode in smaller towns and the countryside.
More than once, Elizabeth heard the V-1s flying past overhead, and at any moment, she knew the pilotless devices could simply drop and obliterate everything around them. Everyone was glad not to be in London, yet at the same time, their hearts were breaking at the further destruction of their beloved, defiant city.
Elizabeth buried herself in work each day, sharing the desk with Eva in the study, as she silently prayed for the rare call or hastily written note from Philip between missions.
But finally, she knew she had to return to London along with Hetty. They couldn’t stay in the country forever. So once more she was back at her office in Bond Street to see to the Bureau’s affairs. The only bright spot in Elizabeth’s life was the steady stream of letters still delivered by their beloved postman, whom they had married off two years before.
“Another full bag today, Miss Mowbray,” Harry said as he poured the letters on her desk. At least a hundred covered the surface. Postmarks from Ireland and Scotland and places all over England, even a few from America, showed how word of the bureau had spread since their doors opened five years ago.
“Thank you, Harry.”
Elizabeth began sorting the letters. A strange sort of melancholy crept into her heart as she sat alone in the office. Hetty was out running errands, and Miss Plumley had the day off. It was just her now, and she didn’t like being alone. It was too quiet.
She opened several letters on the top of the pile, but no matter how hard she might try, she couldn’t bring herself to focus on the words contained within. She knew what Hetty would say: “Call it a day and go home.”
Finally, she packed her things and locked the doors before heading downstairs. She stepped out onto the landing and saw Nathan coming toward her on the street. He was wearing his uniform, which was smartly pressed. As they met at the bottom of the stairs, she saw the look on his face.
“No . . . ,” she begged him, praying he wouldn’t speak.
He held out a letter in a trembling hand and leaned on his cane as though it was the only thing holding him up.
“Lizzie, I’m so sorry . . . It’s Philip.”
With those words, the last starlight in her once bright and glorious universe died.
CHAPTER 39
Elizabeth took the letter from Nathan. Her fingers shook so hard that she nearly dropped it.
“He was flying back from France with a few younger pilots. Most Spitfire pilots only have a life expectancy of four weeks . . . Philip was trying to keep the newer lads alive.” He swallowed hard before continuing. “He radioed in that one of the lads went down into the water. He circled back to see if the boy made it out of his plane, but a German plane shot him down as well. His last radio communication said he was headed into the Channel.”
Elizabeth clenched the letter tight as she clung to those last few words.
“You haven’t confirmed that he’s . . . ?”
“No. Not yet. But he’d be lucky to survive a crash, even on the water. I should know. It’s how I wound up with a limp. I went down just off the coast while in a dog fight with a German plane. Barely made it to shore. He went down too far from land…”
She still clung to the hope, however small. “He’s not gone,” she said firmly and tried to give him back the letter.
“Lizzie, please.” Nathan’s voice was rough as he struggled to speak. “I know you’ve lost so much, and it seems like this is the last thing that you can bear, but you must accept it. Philip is gone.” Nathan curled his hands around hers and closed the letter within her fingers more firmly.
