My decision to return to the States by Christmas was made easier because I would be flying home. AAFES had contracted with charter airlines to fly dependents and civilian personnel between the United States and its bases in Europe. However, because of the unpredictability of Northern European weather, my boss suggested I pick several departure dates because flights were routinely cancelled due to weather.
There was still the matter of my agreement with Beth and the Catons to write a brief history about the Laceys and Montclair. If I was to honor that commitment, I would have to spend less time with Geoff and more time with Elizabeth Garrison.
8 March — Mr. Lacey, Charles, and Jane came to Bennets End for dinner this evening. After our guests departed, Mama said she could think of no reason for Mr. Lacey’s frequent visits to Hertfordshire now that his friend is married, nor does Papa understand why someone of Mr. Lacey’s exalted rank was seated at his dinner table. I have mentioned that both Jane and I believe that Mr. Lacey improves upon further acquaintance, and Papa said it was a good thing, since he is Charles’s friend and, as such, ‘we are stuck with him.’
11 March — Yesterday afternoon, I had a most unwelcome visitor — Lady Sylvia Desmet. Without any attempt at civility, she told me she had news that her nephew was to make an offer of marriage to me and she had come to make sure no such thing occurred. Her objections to the marriage were so numerous I cannot remember them all, but it was clear that she found me to be unworthy of Mr. Lacey’s attentions in every respect, and that he would risk complete estrangement from her if he went forward with such a scheme. She ended by saying that no one in society would receive me, and I would forever be an embarrassment to her nephew and his family. It was impossible to defend myself, as she would not stop talking. Because of infirmities, she walks with a cane, and she kept hitting it against the floor, saying, ‘I honoured you with my notice, and this is how you repay me.’ She departed for Helmsley Hall with the intention of making Mr. Lacey see what an absolute disaster such an alliance with my family would be. I am crying as I write this, for fear of how Mr. Lacey will respond to such forceful arguments.
12 March — Mr. Lacey arrived at Bennets End early this morning to apologize for his aunt’s behavior, and then he drew me to him in a loving embrace. He assured me I had nothing additional to fear from her, as she has severed all bonds between them. His only concern was for Anne.
And then it happened. I am to be Mrs. William David Lacey. I must quickly put into writing what he said to me, as I do not wish to forget a word of it. ‘When I proposed to you last August in Kent, if I had been a wiser and kinder man, you would have accepted my offer, and we would now be man and wife. Your rejection stung, but it provided me with an opportunity to examine my own conduct and the reasons for it. A much humbler man stands before you.’
Having made this confession, he continued with the words I had been waiting to hear. ‘Miss Elizabeth, from the beginning of our acquaintance, I have loved you, and I now ask that you accept my proposal of marriage and agree to be my wife.’ I was so happy, and we hugged and kissed and laughed until we realized he had not spoken to Papa. I will write tomorrow of his response.
Finally, I had arrived at the diary entry for Will Lacey’s proposal to Elizabeth Garrison. I was touched by Will’s newfound humility and his willingness to admit that someone, who was not his equal socially, could be his equal in all other things. He was clearly in love with a woman whom he valued for her beauty, wit, and intelligence.
14 March — Oh what an uproar we have caused! The only person more surprised by the announcement of our engagement than Papa was dear Mama. She blurted out, ‘But, Lizzy, he is most unpleasant.’ When Papa called me into his library, he asked if all the females in our neighbourhood had lost the use of their reason. ‘First Charlotte and now you.’ It took many minutes to convince him that we had become better acquainted at Helmsley Hall, that I had fallen in love with him, and that he was the finest man of my acquaintance. Given time, I assured Papa that he would come to know of the gentleman’s many attributes. Mr. Lacey, noting Papa’s lack of enthusiasm, told him that it was his intention to become the best of sons-in-law — ‘better even than Mr. Chatterton is to Sir William Ledger,’ which he said brought a smile to Papa’s face.
Geoff was looking over my shoulder trying to read the manuscript, which was something he did when he wanted attention. “Do you have something on your mind, Geoff?”
“I believe you are going somewhere. You’ve been typing as if you are possessed or on a mission, or you would not have avoided conversation with someone so erudite.”
“I am a woman on a mission. I’ve had these diaries for weeks now, and yet I haven’t even gotten to the wedding, and I’m going to keep going until I do.”
“If you ignore me, I won’t tell you about James and Angela’s wedding night.”
I turned around and faced him. “Okay. You’ve got my attention.”
“You have to keep in mind that, during their entire courtship, James hasn’t done anything other than give Angela a chaste kiss. Around midnight, all of the wedding guests, including Mike and I, walk with the happy couple through the village to the Paglia house and keep on going right into their bedroom. Some of the old ladies throw flower petals on the bed cover, and then we leave, but we’re all right outside the door.”
“Are you making this up?”
“Hell, no! I don’t have to. James realizes the guests aren’t going anywhere, and it’s been a long six months, so nothing’s going to stop him. While Angela’s getting changed, James had to face the wall, and when he turns around, she’s standing there in a cotton night gown with full sleeves. He said it was so stiff it could have stood up on its own. But it gets better. Angela gets in bed, fully clothed, and points to the bed cover, which has a hole in it exactly where a shorter man than James might insert a certain object.”
“Oh, my God!”
“Exactly. When James figures out what she wants him to do, he goes into a primal mode and pulls the bed cover off the bed.”
“And?”
“Apparently, Angela thought it was a great idea, and they had a terrific time even though everyone was just outside the door.”
Geoff and I were hysterical. It was ten minutes before I could stop laughing enough to start typing, and Lizzy’s diary entry showed that Angela had a lot more fun on her wedding night than Jane did.
17 May — Jane and I have talked about what is expected of a wife. She says the experience can be unpleasant at first, but after that, it seems the body recognizes the sacrifice that is being asked of it and responds appropriately. Her response made me wonder if intimacy can be pleasurable, or is it merely a matter of a wife’s duty to her husband?
19 May — Tomorrow I shall become Mrs. William Lacey. How can all of this have happened? To be so in love with one’s life partner is a rarity, but such has been my fortune. I am so pleased with my beautiful ivory satin wedding gown and lace veil. My lady’s maid, whom I am to call Waite, has been of great help, but I do not know how much I should say to her. Mrs. Hughes, the housekeeper, insists that I must always be discreet or I could embarrass the family, as servants will talk.
According to Elizabeth’s brief diary entry on May 20th, Will and his bride had “a merry wedding” with close friends and family in attendance at the church and the wedding breakfast. The food was plentiful, the wine flowed, the musicians played beautifully, and the dancers stepped lively. Everything had gone exactly as Elizabeth had hoped.
26 May — There is so much to write, but I am greatly fatigued, as I have a house full of guests, some of whom have been here near a week. This is the first opportunity I have had to write of the most important event in my life. I hope I can hold forever in my mind the look on Mr. Lacey’s face when he first saw me at the church. The pastor at St Michael’s received his appointment from the Laceys, and as such, performed the ceremony exactly as directed by his patron. Apparently, Mr. Lacey (whom I am now to call Will, as is his choice) leans toward brevity. The wedding breakfast lasted into the evening when the tables were cleared to make way for more food.
It was well past midnight by the time I went to my bed chamber. All my night clothes had been laid out by Waite, who helped me to get into my silk night gown. After she left, Will came to my chamber and asked if my mother had talked to me. I said that she had, and he was visibly relieved. I found it to be a most curious ritual, but Will was very kind and patient. After five days, I do not make any claim to being a proficient, but it certainly has become less awkward and more pleasurable which, as Will explained, is as it should be. He has been excessively attentive, and after he has fallen asleep, I lie in bed and count my blessings.
A week after their wedding, the couple went to London to make the requisite visits to the social elites who were then in town for the season. The couple seemed to have been given a warm welcome by everyone except Lady Jersey, but because she was the de facto leader of the ton, her behavior, no matter how offensive, had to be tolerated. But one person was missing, the Duchess of Devonshire.
2 June — We rode past Devonshire House, and I asked if the Duchess was still visiting abroad. I was astounded to learn that Her Grace has been exiled by her husband to the continent for having a child with Charles Grey. She has been gone for more than a year and a half, and while her children remain in England, the Duchess waits in Naples for word from the Duke that she may return. None of this bothers Will, as he has already written to Her Grace at her residence in Naples and has received a response in which she invites us to call as soon as we arrive.
At this point, Geoff coughed to let me know that he was once again being ignored. “Surely, Elizabeth and Will must be grandparents by now with as long as you’ve been typing.”
I was ready to quit for the night anyway, so I asked him what was on his mind.
“You are leaving us. I know you are. So why don’t you just tell old Geoff what’s going on.”
“Do you know what the fourth Thursday of November is in America?” I asked.
After thinking for a minute, he said, “Yes. It’s Thanksgiving Day. When I was at Yale, Beth’s Aunt Laura was kind enough to invite me to celebrate the holiday at her flat in New York. The table practically bowed from the weight of all that food.”
“That’s right.” I laughed to myself at the thought of skinny Geoff biting into a turkey drumstick.
“Two years ago, I celebrated Thanksgiving in an Army mess hall at an air base. Last year, I had dinner in an office cafeteria, and it looks as if this year may be a repeat of 1947. In our family, Thanksgiving is a big deal. We have tomato juice and fruit cocktail, a turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, biscuits, bread stuffing, corn, green beans, cranberry sauce, apple and pumpkin pies, all chased down with strong black coffee.”
“And you want to spend Thanksgiving with your family,”
Geoff said sympathetically.
“I know that’s not possible, but I’m thinking about how I can get home by Christmas.”
“Is this a permanent relocation?”
“It would have to be. I don’t have the money to go back and forth across the Atlantic. There’s a big part of me that wants to stay in England, but then there’s another part that says I’m an American, and it’s time to go home. I’ve been gone for more than two years.”
“Does this have something to do with your flyer?”
“If you’re asking if I’m going home so I can run Rob to ground in Atlanta, the answer is ‘no,’” I said defensively. “Of course, I’ll let him know where I am, but I’m not expecting anything to happen.”
“And what about Michael?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked too loudly.
“I’ll give you credit for being clever by burying your questions about him in more general questions about India or the war. But when I talk about Michael, your interest level goes way up. I know you’ve had a letter from him recently.”
“We had something of a flirtation for a few days before and after the ball at Montclair,” I admitted. “But, if you’d like, I can show you the letter I received from him in which he apologized for that very same flirtation, saying he doesn’t know what came over him. He assured me there would be no repetition.
“And, yes, I’m interested in him in much the same way I’m interested in you. You don’t have any idea how fascinating your life sounds to a girl who grew up looking at the black hulk of a coal breaker. You talk so casually about Paris and Brussels, skiing in the Alps, climbing the Acropolis. These are places I can only dream about, but I’m a very practical working-class girl, who knows when it’s time to go home.”
“I didn’t tell you,” Geoff said. “Beth called. She’s coming to London next week. She’s planning a party and asked if you could help her out. Michael is coming home on the 18th, and the party’s for him.”