a millionaire’s mistress she could hardly continue to campaign on behalf of working-class women. Her political life would be over. She would lose touch with Bernie and Mildred, and it would be awkward even to see Maud.
But who was she, to ask for so much from life? She was Ethel Williams, born in a coal miner’s cottage! How could she turn up her nose at a lifetime of ease? You should be so lucky, she told herself, using one of Bernie’s sayings.
And then there was Lloyd. He would have a governess, and later Fitz would pay for him to go to a posh school. He would grow up among the elite and lead a life of privilege. Did Ethel have the right to deny him that?
She was no nearer an answer when she opened the newspapers in the office she shared with Maud and learned of another dramatic offer. On December 12 the German chancellor, Theobald von Bethmann-Hollweg, proposed peace talks with the Allies.
Ethel was elated. Peace! Was it really possible? Might Billy come home?
The French premier immediately described the note as a crafty move, and the Russian foreign minister denounced the Germans’ “lying proposals,” but Ethel believed it was the British reaction that would count.
Lloyd George was not making public speeches of any kind, claiming he had a sore throat. In London in December half the population had coughs and colds, but all the same Ethel suspected Lloyd George just wanted time to think. She took that as a good sign. An immediate response would have been a rejection; anything else was hopeful. He was at least considering peace, she thought optimistically.
Meanwhile President Wilson threw America’s weight into the balance on the side of peace. He suggested that as a preliminary to talks all the warring powers state their aims-what they were trying to achieve by fighting.
“That’s embarrassed them,” said Bernie Leckwith that evening. “They’ve forgotten why they started it. They’re fighting now just because they want to win.”
Ethel remembered what Mrs. Dai Ponies had said about the strike: These men-once they get into a fight, all they care about is winning. They won’t give in, whatever the cost. She wondered how a woman prime minister might have reacted to a peace proposal.
But Bernie was right, she realized over the next few days. President Wilson’s suggestion met with a strange silence. No country answered immediately. That made Ethel more angry. How could they carry on if they did not even know what they were fighting for?
At the end of the week Bernie organized a public meeting to debate the German note. On the day of the meeting, Ethel woke up to see her brother standing beside her bed in his khaki uniform. “Billy!” she cried. “You’re alive!”
“And on a week’s leave,” he said. “Get out of bed, you lazy cow.”
She jumped up, put on a dressing gown over her nightdress, and hugged him. “Oh, Billy, I’m so happy to see you.” She noticed the stripes on his sleeve. “Sergeant, now, is it?”
“Aye.”
“How did you get into the house?”
“Mildred opened the door. Actually, I been here since last night.”
“Where did you sleep?”
He looked bashful. “Upstairs.”
Ethel grinned. “Lucky lad.”
“I really like her, Eth.”
“So do I,” Ethel said. “Mildred is solid gold. Are you going to marry her?”
“Aye, if I survive the war.”
“You don’t mind about the age difference?”
“She’s twenty-three. It’s not like she’s really old, thirty or something.”
“And the children?”
Billy shrugged. “They’re nice kids, but even if they weren’t I’d put up with them for her sake.”
“You really do love her.”
“It’s not difficult.”
“She’s started a little business, you must have seen all the hats up there in her room.”
“Aye. Going well, too, it is, she says.”
“Very well. She’s a hard worker. Is Tommy with you?”
“He come over on the boat with me, but now he’ve gone to Aberowen on the train.”
Lloyd woke up, saw a strange man in the room, and began to cry. Ethel picked him up and quieted him. “Come in the kitchen,” she said to Billy. “I’ll make us some breakfast.”
Billy sat and read the paper while she made porridge. After a moment he said: “Bloody hell.”
“What?”
“Bloody Fitzherbert’s been opening his big mouth, I see.” He glanced at Lloyd, almost as if the baby might be offended at this scornful reference to his father.
Ethel looked over his shoulder. She read:
PEACE: A SOLDIER’SPLEA
“Don’t Give Up on Us Now!” Wounded Earl Speaks Out
A moving speech was made yesterday in the House of Lords against the current proposal of the German Chancellor for peace talks. The speaker was Earl Fitzherbert, a Major in the Welsh Rifles, who is in London recovering from wounds received at the Battle of the Somme.
Lord Fitzherbert said that to talk peace with the Germans would be a betrayal of all the men who have given their lives in the war. “We believe we are winning and can achieve complete victory provided you don’t give up on us now,” he said.
Wearing his uniform, with an eye patch, and leaning on a crutch, the earl made a striking figure in the debating chamber. He was listened to in absolute silence, and cheered when he sat down.
There was a lot more of the same. Ethel was aghast. It was sentimental claptrap, but it would be effective. Fitz did not normally wear the eye patch-he must have put it on for effect. The speech would prejudice a lot of people against the peace plan.
She ate breakfast with Billy, then dressed Lloyd and herself and went out. Billy was going to spend the day with Mildred, but he promised to come to the meeting that evening.
When Ethel arrived at the office of The Soldier’s Wife she saw that all the newspapers had reported Fitz’s speech. Several made it the subject of a leading article. They took different views, but agreed he had struck a powerful blow.
“How can anyone be against the mere discussion of peace?” she said to Maud.
“You can ask him yourself,” Maud said. “I invited him to tonight’s meeting, and he accepted.”
Ethel was startled. “He’ll get a warm reception!”
“I certainly hope so.”
The two women spent the day working on a special edition of the newspaper with the front-page headline SMALL DANGER OF PEACE. Maud liked the irony but Ethel thought it was too subtle. Late in the afternoon Ethel collected Lloyd from the child minder, took him home, fed him, and put him to bed. She left him in the care of Mildred, who did not go to political meetings.
The Calvary Gospel Hall was filling up when Ethel arrived, and soon there was standing room only. The audience included many soldiers and sailors in uniform. Bernie chaired the meeting. He opened with a speech of his own that managed to be dull even though short-he was no orator. Then he called on the first speaker, a philosopher from Oxford University.
Ethel knew the arguments for peace better than the philosopher did, and as he spoke she studied the two men on the platform who were wooing her. Fitz was the product of hundreds of years of wealth and culture. As always, he was beautifully dressed, his hair well-cut, his hands white, and his fingernails clean. Bernie came from a tribe of persecuted nomads who survived by being cleverer than those who tormented them. He was wearing his only suit, the heavy dark gray serge. Ethel had never seen him in anything else: when the weather was warm he simply took off the jacket.
The audience listened quietly. The Labour movement was divided over peace. Ramsay MacDonald, who had spoken against the war in Parliament on August 3, 1914, had resigned as Labour Party leader when war was declared two days later, and since then the party’s M.P.s had supported the war, as did most of their voters. But Labour supporters tended to be the most skeptical of working-class people, and there was a strong minority in favor
