All of Us Fit in Our Places

"Thank you for telling me. It explains a lot and if there's ever anything I can do, you just need to ask."

She looked into his eyes. Her expression was intense. He thought she might be trying to see if he was telling the truth, which he hoped he was.

"Thank you," she said, simply.

They sat in silence for a minute or two more before awkwardly letting go and returning to their drinks. Perry wracked his brains for something to say before the moment was lost.

Suddenly he had an idea.

"How do you feel about a little more responsibility?"

"I guess so," Eleanor said slowly.

"Well, how would you like to be my deputy?"

She frowned. "You're not doing this out of pity, are you?"

"No, certainly not. You've taken to the job very well. The other staff like you. You're clever and could do with a bit of a challenge."

"Then, yes, I'd love to."

"There'll be more money to go with it and you'll be eligible for one of the grace and favours."

Her eyes widened. "Oh God, that would be wonderful! But, what about you?"

He was baffled. "What about me?"

"The reason we came here tonight was to be a bit of distraction from this afternoon. You're kind and fair and generous and it breaks my heart to see you unhappy."

Eleanor had taken his hand again and Perry found himself unable to speak. He felt a sense of vertigo as things in his brain were abruptly re-ordered.

"I, I need to go," he stuttered and rose from the table.

***

The following Monday morning, the small out-of-house team assembled in the larger potting shed. Besides Perry and Eleanor, there was Mike Harper who mainly worked in the kitchen garden alongside Mrs Took.

Next to him stood Steve Lawrence who took care of the farm. He was due to retire in a couple of years and Perry tried not to think about how hard he'd be to replace. Two lads, seasonal hires from the village called Nigel and Garry, slouched at the back, trying unsuccessfully not to stare at Eleanor too much.

Bringing up the rear was George, short for Georgina but heaven help you if tried to use the long form. Charles Stanforth got away with it but no-one else did. George managed the vines and the deer herd.

Perry stood on top of a crate and asked for order.

"First thing, before we get about our business for the coming week, I have a small announcement. Eleanor Price is going to be my deputy."

There was a stir, Eleanor blushed, George looked appalled, and the two older men grinned.

"Nothing much is going to change, come to me when I'm around and go to Eleanor when I'm not. George, Steve, and Mike all know what they're doing so, Nigel and Garry? Just ask the most senior person you can find. Above all, try to use your common sense."

George snorted. Eleanor coughed and stepped to stand beside Perry's crate.

"Please feel free to put me in my place if I get too big for my boots."

Perry smiled approvingly at her diplomacy and George looked more mollified. The older men had already adopted her while Garry and Nigel were perfectly well aware that she was out of their league.

"Me and Eleanor are going to have another look at the feed for the lake this morning and then head over to the vineyard after lunch. George, can you meet us there?"

She nodded and they dispersed, Mike snared Garry to help with potting up and Nigel trotted after Steve, hopefully to absorb some of that vital knowledge.

As they made their way up through the kitchen garden, Perry looked at Eleanor.

"Today, Miss Price is modelling denim dungarees and a brushed cotton checked shirt."

"Shut up!" she said, elbowing him in the ribs. "I'm pleased you're still talking to me."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because of the pub."

"That's my problem. You didn't cause it."

"No, but I upset you."

"It's Giles that upsets me. You never have."

Eleanor's face lit up with a smile that took Perry's breath away. Even in her working clothes and with her hair up under a cap, she was extraordinarily beautiful. She could wear anything and still turn heads.

"Why don't you have a boyfriend?"

She grimaced.

"I used to have to fight them off with a stick. They lost interest very quickly when they came round. Mum has that effect. There are one or two that I wouldn't mind getting to know a bit better but that's not on the cards just now."

***

The Dachaigh pas-de-deux

One morning, Anna was surprised to find an expensive looking cream envelope waiting for her. The address was written in beautifully old fashioned copperplate. Initially taking it for some kind of mail shot, she picked it up and paused. The weight and the quality of the paper were undeniable and on closer inspection, the writing had not been printed.

Puzzled, she slit it open with her knife and removed the single sheet of paper inside. Reading the brief contents, her eyebrows rose, and her mother and father looked at her enquiringly.

"What is it, Anna, dear?"

"It's Charles' mother. She's invited me to visit her in the States. There's a plane ticket waiting for me at Heathrow on Monday morning!"

Her parents exchanged glances.

"How well do you know Mrs Stanforth?" Fred asked.

"I've spoken to her a few times at Dearborn but she's ... odd."

"Odd? How so?"

"Withdrawn. Honestly, that family is a bit like a gothic novel at times. There are secrets and meaningful silences."

Anna made quotation marks with her fingers.

"You don't have to accept," her mother said.

"That seems rude somehow. Besides, it would make a great entry for my journal!"

"What now?" her father murmured, his attention halfway back to his paper.

"I'm writing a diary about my experiences with Dearborn and Charles' family."

Her mother looked at her affectionately. Charles had brought Anna to life, suddenly she was animated and full of plans.

"I must get to the library!"

"What for?"

"So, I can find out where Warren County is and what on Earth 'Dachaigh' means!"

***

Anna stared out of the window of the cab, seeing the unfamiliar countryside through the lens of the heavy air. Warren County was home to some momentous events in American history but none of that seemed to intrude into the modern day.

"We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto," she murmured.

The cab driver laughed. "This is Mississippi! Where you from anyhow?"

"England," Anna said, struggling not to drop into RP.

"What's that accent?"

"Um, I grew up outside the Home Counties."

"Home Counties? What's that?"

He was being cheerfully nosy in the way of all cabbies and Anna tried not to be annoyed.

"It's the area around London."

"I'd sure like to see London!"

"London isn't all red buses and Buckingham Palace! There are some not so nice bits too," Anna said, slightly nettled at the easy assumption that London was all there was to her home.

"Easy, ma'am, no offence. New Orleans is mostly bad bits!"

Anna grinned. "Like most places I suppose. Do you know Dachaigh?"

"Dropped off there once or twice. It's quite a pile."

"What about the people?"

His voice flattened. "No ma'am, people like that don't associate with people like me. That's old money that."

The conversation stopped abruptly.

Anna was taken aback. She pushed the connecting window closed and sat back in her seat reflecting on how narrow her life was. Race was something she read about in the news.

They turned off the main highway onto a drive lined with tall straight trees with rich dark green leaves. The effect was akin to a natural cathedral.

She knocked on the connecting panel.

"What are those trees? They're beautiful."

"I'm not too well versed ma'am but I think they're ironwood trees."

Anna sighed. "Everything here is so different."

He chuckled. "Bit cooler back home?"

"Just a bit! What's the temperature right now?"

"Weatherman said it might hit 80° today."

Anna paused to do the conversion in her head.

"We only get heat like that in midsummer. Back home it's probably no more than 50°. We get snow in April sometimes."

"It snows here sometimes. Not much but enough to ruffle folks' feathers."

Anna laughed and the cabbie pulled the car round to stop in front of the plantation house. Anna tipped him generously and he gave her a big smile.

Charles' mother appeared and stood on the veranda. Monica Stanforth looked entirely different in the sunshine of the Deep South. Her hair was suddenly not grey but ash blonde. Her stance was more upright, and her chin was up.

"Miss Mollica! Good of you to come!"

Even her voice was more animated.

"I could hardly say no, especially when you flew me first class!"

Charles' mother advanced to take her hands. Anna was astonished, was this the same person?

"There's a pitcher of lemonade on the veranda. Come and tell me your news. How are the wedding plans coming along?"

"Charles still hopes you will come."

"I'm still thinking about it."

There was a small table and a pair of matching chairs set out with the aforementioned pitcher of lemonade. They seated themselves and Anna went to pick up the jug only for Monica to shake her head.

"Carrie!" she called, and a small woman came to serve them.

Anna tried unsuccessfully not to stare.

"Will that be all ma'am?"

"Yes, thank you, Carrie."

With that the servant dipped her head and disappeared back into the house. The difference from the staff at Dearborn couldn't have been wider.

Monica noticed Anna's frown.

"That's just how it is, here, Anna. Sometimes I wish that the staff in England would be less familiar."

"They're still human beings!"

"They're employees and they need to be reminded from time to time. You've not grown up with staff, so you'll not understand."

Anna had to concede the point, but the servant's deference made her deeply uncomfortable. She changed the subject.

"I love the avenue."

"It's handsome, ain't it? My grandfather planted them around the end of the nineteenth century."

There was silence for a while. Then Anna took her courage in her hands.

"Why am I here, Monica?"

The older woman shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the informality.

"I wanted to understand the woman who intends to marry my son."

"He is a gentleman, and I am a gentleman's daughter. So far we are equal." Anna replied with a smile.

Monica looked at her blankly.

"Pride and Prejudice," explained Anna. "The scene where Elizabeth is talking to Lady Catherine de Bourgh."

The other shook her head, "I never bothered with the classics. Paul would have recognised the reference."

"In a roundabout way, I was trying to say that I think your concern is that Charles is marrying beneath him."

Monica stared at her. "I wouldn't have put it like that but, yes, I suppose so."

Anna felt herself settle.

"You could have asked Charles yourself, but then you hardly talk to anyone at Dearborn. "

Monica shifted in her seat again. This was not how she was used to being addressed, but Anna had come at her invitation, and this was what she had wanted to learn.

Anna was speaking.

"I grew up in the north of England. I got a degree in English from St Andrews that I have been unable to convert into an income, so I'm back living with my parents. I've never had what I consider to be a meaningful relationship and I'll be 34 years old later this year."

Anna paused and then said with a smile, "So, no, I am not Charles' peer in terms of wealth or accomplishment. Not that that matters in the slightest."

Monica absorbed this information in silence.

***

Later that evening they ate dinner in a vast room with a correspondingly enormous dining table that could have seated twenty. Anna and Monica sat on one corner and were served by the staff.

"How did you come to Dearborn?" Anna asked, between courses.

Monica picked up her wine and gestured with her other hand.

"I inherited Dearborn unexpectedly from a distant relation. It was 1963 and I was only 21. It all sounded terribly romantic and so very English; la-di-dah Lady of the Manor and all that! So, I came to see it and there was this dashing young man trying to hold things together. Lord, he was so handsome!

Anyway, the long and the short of it was that we fell in love, got married and started a family. Everything went well until Giles was born. I suffered very badly from the baby blues; they call it post-natal depression these days. I,"

Monica hesitated,

"did some strange things and they gave me some very strong drugs. Have you ever taken Valium, Anna?"

Anna mutely shook her head.

"Well don't. It shuts you down. Sure, you don't feel depressed, but then you don't feel much of anything. After a while, I realised I was getting up in the morning and between that and going to bed at night, I was only saying two words in the entire day. The cure was worse than the problem and I stopped taking the pills. Unfortunately, I then became manic and nearly did some terrible things."

She paused, her eyes seeing events long ago and far away.

"I was sectioned for a while, for everyone's safety. That's when Paul had his affair with Naomi's mother. I could have forgiven him that. But then, to cap it all, after I came out of hospital, when he ended the affair, the silly woman killed herself."

Anna reached out and placed her hand on Monica's. Monica looked down at it and a rare smile graced her lips.

"You'll be good for my son."

"Was that when Naomi came to live with you?"

Her lips pursed. "That girl. A constant reminder of his infidelity. Under my roof! I begged him to get her fostered or adopted but he wouldn't hear of it."

"It wasn't Naomi's fault!"

"I know that! But I just couldn't get past it. I hoped that sending her to board would help, but to no avail. Every time I saw her, it just brought it all back."

Anna winced, the tension must have been awful, and bad as it obviously had been for Monica, what must it have been like for the young Naomi?

Monica watched Anna processing the information.

"I knew, my dear, but it didn't help."

"And now? Why here? Why now?"

"Well, one day I realised that the twins were of age. I had given as much to the family as I was able, and I didn't have to be weighed down by that pile of stone anymore."

"Twins?"

"Anastacia and Byron, the last gasp of our marriage."

Anna did a double take, how had that escaped her?

Monica was still speaking.

"Nothing healed the wound. Giles was my way of hurting Paul. I knew he was bad, so I made him my heir. Giles would run the place to wrack and ruin and there would be nothing Paul or anyone else could do about it."

Anna could hardly believe what she was hearing. She jumped to her feet, outraged.

"How is that right?" she shouted.

Monica looked up at her, startled. "I am the heir! The choice is mine."

"You're not God! Is this where Giles gets it from?"

"Gets what?"

"His cruelty."

Monica jerked as if she'd been slapped. "You forget yourself, young lady!"

"I'm not beholden to you! I can rescue Charles from that poisonous place. Then at least one of your children can be happy!"

Anna turned on her heel and marched towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Away."

Anna stomped into the hall.

Monica stared after her. No one had spoken to her in that way in a very long time.

Perhaps this was behind the quixotic impulse that had led her to invite Anna to Dachaigh.

She made her way out on to the veranda and sat looking down the avenue of ironwood trees. There was a storm nearby and the little gusts of wind that presaged its arrival shivered the leaves in bunches like cheerleaders shaking their pom-poms.

A decade or more lost to her depression and the pills that sought to cure it. Yet more time wasted curating her revenge against her husband. And for what?

Anna appeared and stiffly asked how she could summon a taxi.

"You ask one of the maids to do it but before you do, sit down, Anna. Please."

Anna frowned.

"Please, Anna."

Awkwardly, the younger woman came and perched on the adjacent chair.

"Dearborn itself is not good for me. I think that is why I am careless of its future."

"What do you mean?"

"I feel the weight of it terribly; beyond unhappy memories, it's too often just cold and grey and old. I cannot stay there."

The first rumble of thunder rolled over them. Monica looked up.

"Storms here can be fierce. Stay and watch it with me."

Anna examined her feelings. Why else had she accepted the invitation other than to gain an opportunity to study the most intricate of the Stanforth puzzle-boxes?

A flash of lightning came close by, and Anna let out a little involuntary shriek.

Monica laughed and Anna glared at her, before realising with astonishment, that it was the first time she had ever heard that sound.

The first fat drops spattered on the ground and the air filled with the characteristic smell of new rain. Another flash came, much closer this time and the thunder was immediate and very loud. Anna's knuckles were white on the arm of her chair.

Monica laughed again and stood up and stretched her arms out, welcoming the onslaught.

The rain rapidly intensified until the roar from the roof made conversation impossible. Another flash illuminated the avenue in harsh white light. The accompanying thunder was a deep visceral counterpoint to the noise of the downpour.

Gusts of wind thrashed the trees and brought the rain on to the veranda, soaking the two women. Monica turned her face upwards, the rain streaming down her features like some pagan baptism.

The lightning flashed again nearby, and the thunder was an immediate crack, appallingly loud.

Storms didn't worry Anna at home, but this was something else entirely. She felt exposed and scared and exhilarated all at once.

Monica looked over her shoulder at Anna and beckoned her to her side. Embarrassed at how shaky her knees were, Anna forced herself to stand up and walk to beside her host. Unexpectedly, Monica took her hand.

"No one has spoken to me like that in a long time!" she shouted against the storm.

"Is that a good thing?" Anna shouted back.

"I think I needed to hear it!"

The rain faded and within a minute or two stopped, the storm muttering to itself as it ambled away in search of another victim.

***

May

Valerie stood by the window of the snug, watching for Kim's car. Shortly she was rewarded by the sight of a red two-seater sports car winding its way past the lake to the front of the house. She smiled, of course Kim would drive a red sports car.

She let herself out of the boot room door and walked to where the car was pulling up. The driver's window whirred down, and Kim beamed at her.

"Have you been waiting for little old me?"

"Welcoming guests is part of my duties, it's bad form to keep them waiting."

Kim laughed and Valerie came out in goosebumps at the sound.

"If you pull around the side of the house you'll find somewhere to park."

She followed the car round and stood by the boot as Kim got out of the car.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm waiting to take your luggage. You're a guest and that's what we do for guests."

Kim took her arm. "You're so sweet!"

Valerie grinned and blushed. "I'll introduce you to Mrs Took."

Kim giggled. "I feel like I'm on a film set!"

Valerie ushered her through the scullery door and then into the kitchen proper.

"This is bigger than my whole flat!" Kim said, gawking at the vast space.

"Big houses have big kitchens. We can cater for sixty," said a voice. Mrs Took had come through from the morning room.

"Mrs Took, this is my guest for the weekend, Kim Wallace. She'll be staying with me at the cottage."

Mrs Took looked thoughtfully at Kim. Valerie knew what she was thinking.

Kim advanced quickly across the kitchen and shook Mrs Took's hand. "Delighted to meet you!"