by P. S. Power
"Ella asks: Agatha, I know that you've said one should return an invitation in similar form, but my husband and I, while not poor, have friends that are quite wealthy. Our dwelling isn't nearly as grand as what they have, is it equal to invite them over to our far more humble home in return for a dinner party engagement? This is rather pressing, please respond quickly, since desperation is setting in." There was the sound of paper shuffling a little as the woman went quiet, seeming to be thinking.
"That... is a very good question. The answer simply, is yes. The value of an invitation is in the time taken, the care and concern given in it, not in the trappings around it. Any person of refinement will understand this. Remember, you do not seek to impress your friends with the value of what you own, but rather with your fellow feeling and goodwill. I don't think you have anything to worry about, except proper presentation. Make certain that you put the invitation in writing and either have it delivered by post or to the person directly from your own hand. Even the richest will find that very proper and polite, I assure you."
When Gwen turned, still standing, she noticed that Ethyl was there, smiling at her back.
"Oh, I didn't realize that you were in here dear, I was just coming to listen to Agatha Longbranch. She's a friend of mine, and quiet wise in matters of society and homemaking. I didn't think that you'd be interested in such things."
That got Gwen to blink. After a few seconds she covered her mouth, to hide the smile on her face.
"You mean learning survival skills for this world? I need to do it pretty soon, or I'm going to be in trouble, aren't I? I don't even know all the rules I've been breaking here so far. Maybe I should get your friend Agatha in for a while and pick her brain? We could invite her to teach a few classes on manners to the girls at the camp out. Are there special social rules when in the wild?" Gwen was kidding but Ethyl just gave her a funny look and left, not saying anything.
Sitting and listening for a while, Gwen realized that she needed something to do with her hands. She'd started to learn needlepoint from Bethany, but she was busy at the moment, being a Westmorland Detective. Just as she was about to get up and go find something to do while listening, there was another change of topic on the telesar program.
"Oh, my, this is a treat, we have with us, via telestator, my friend Ethyl Vernor. Dear, to what do we owe the pleasure?" It was polite sounding and warm, considering that the Vernor's weren't exactly social favorites that week.
"Agatha! So lovely to hear your voice. I was just speaking to Gwen Farris, she was listening to your program for tips and she wondered if you might consider coming to the Student Service Girls Campout and teaching a class or two on manners? This is very important to her you know. We have the request being brought to you as we speak, but I just couldn't wait to ask. It's well worth it, since so many young ladies will be in attendance."
There was a gentle laugh then, and the woman sounded amused by the idea.
"Certainly. Please tell Miss Farris that I'd be delighted to attend and give what aid I can. Now, do notice, at home in the audience, that Ethyl just put me on the spot in front of the entire Kingdom? That's a very clever use of resources there. Almost no way out of an invitation of that nature!" She sounded oddly delighted by the idea however, rather than as if she were taking anyone to task. "Still, I've been dying to meet Gwen Farris for some time. I should invite her to my next party. Do you think she'd attend?"
Ethyl sounded just as friendly, making her voice both polite and slightly joyful at the same time.
"I'm not certain. I know that she'd enjoy meeting you, but she's very busy. Most days see her doing levels of work that would make most feel inadequate to witness. Do you know that she's in the Special Service? She takes her training for that most seriously too. She ran over ten miles earlier today and then practiced pugilism with a military expert and a Westmorland asset, Bethany. A very delightful young lady, Beth I mean. Gwen as well, but no one would doubt that."
They went on like that for a while, both very polite and both, less than covertly, saying rather nice things about the Westmorlands in general and Beth in particular. It was, over all, the nicest thing that Gwen had ever heard anyone say on the telesar about the Westmorlands. They chatted about a lot of things, and during the commercial break, which was just Agatha reading off some advertisements for various places, Ethyl got off the air. The show was about over anyway and Agatha passed the baton to the next person up, a man that sounded most angry about all the nice things that were just said about the Westmorland menace.
"Fine, see if I invite you to the Girls Campout then, if you're going to be rude about it." She humphed at the device just as Ethyl came in, laughing a bit at what she said.
"No doubt Gwen. I always switch channels at this point. Agatha is a dear however, we were at school together, some time ago. I won't say how long, and it would be rude to ask..." She made a funny face, pursing her lips a little. "I do hope it's alright, but I sent along an invitation to Agatha for tonight's meal? I didn't get the impression that it was more than a social gathering..."
Gwen smiled.
"That sounds good, I'd love to meet her." The show was rubbing off on her, she realized, causing her to sound a lot more polite and well spoken for this place than she normally was. Ethyl didn't really seem to notice, but seemed happy enough with the response anyway.
"Wonderful. Now, I really should see to the meal. I was thinking roast lamb. It's the right season for it. We'll need several, since enough people have responded already. Ferdinand can't make it, but that wasn't ever likely. Not on this short of notice. He did wish me to tell you that he sends his regrets and called personally. That in itself says something, doesn't it? He has a secretary that does nothing but refuse engagements for him after all, but when it's from you he answers personally." She started walking out the door, so Gwen followed, really not having anything to do. Helping out was a good idea, but how she was supposed to do that, she hadn't a clue.
Mrs. Vernor didn't notice her until they were at the kitchen door, but she didn't jump, just looking curious.
"Is there a problem dear? Or something special you wanted for the meal?"
Gwen shrugged, then remembered to use a palm flip instead.
"No, I just don't have anything to do, and know that I should be useful. I could, I don't know, peel potatoes or something?"
Before the woman could give a polite refusal of the proffered aid, a matronly looking woman of about sixty pointed at a large wooden bucket on the floor, another half filled with water was next to it. There was a knife in her hand, which nearly got the lady blasted, but she went back to working on the meat in front of her before that was needed.
"Good. We need the help. Knives are in the rack. Use a small one. We need about half that amount skinned and then cut in slices, about this thick." She held her fingers about a quarter inch apart. "If you could see to that, it would be helpful. Dorethea is out ill today. I would have gotten someone else in, but I didn't know there was a party this evening." She didn't seem upset about it, but she didn't stop working either.
Gwen got the knife and started instantly. It was her party after all, so it just made sense she should help where she could, didn't it? The woman in charge of the room seemed to think so. She also seemed to think that Ethyl was both delightful and a bit useless in the kitchen, since she listened to the orders for the evening closely, then gestured for the woman to leave. It took nearly two hours to have all the potatoes ready. There were several cooks, so they didn't need her to do anything with them, just the prep work for the meal. When she finished the woman glanced at the clock on the wall, which said it was about three thirty and gave her some carrots to take care of in a similar fashion.
That took less time, but when she was done the woman, who seemed to actually know who she was, looked at the clock again.
"Alright, we need to get you into some proper clothing. I'll get Ann to come and help you with make-up. We should cover up those bruises or
people will think we beat you. Go, go... Thank you for helping with this."
She left, not really knowing who Ann was, until the woman showed up with a basket of supplies to see to her face. It took a bit for Gwen to remind the woman, who was about fifty or so and looked thirty-five, if barely, that the whole thing was casual dress. It meant different things had to be done.
It also meant that they couldn't go with a high-court, full on face painting. That made it a little harder, since it just wouldn't look right with the plain dress she was wearing. She could have gotten away with one of her other outfits, but Ann assured her that the amount of make-up in her version of the Special Service daily wear would look wrong. When she looked into the mirror she could see that. It wasn't horrible, the job done on her face. She looked as smooth as porcelain and blemish free, but it was pretty solidly fake at the same time. There was almost no nod toward a natural look at all.
Well, if anyone asked, she'd just explain.
Hopefully it wouldn't happen at the table, since having yourself beaten just didn't sound like polite conversation at all, did it? More like something that should involve whips and a ball gag.
People started coming at six in the evening, with James and Ella getting there first, a tiny envelope in her hand, wrapped once in a ribbon. It got handed to Ethyl with a shy smile.
The woman opened it instantly.
"Oh, an invitation! How wonderful dear! Yes, of course Robert and I would be happy to join you and James. We look forward to it." There was a distant hug that would have looked like she didn't want contact with the other woman, until you realized how much make-up she had on. Gwen needed to keep that in mind as well, not that she went around hugging people a lot.
Then almost instantly Ella walked up and hugged her, making the thought suddenly relevant.
She spoke first, smiling at the woman who was dressed nicely, and made up more than she'd ever seen her before.
"I'm so glad you two could come! I think we have some coffee in the sitting room. How are the kids? We need to get together soon and do something. Maybe a tour of the airfield? It will have to be a couple of weeks, I think. The Student Service camps are in a few days. I think you have to be at least twelve for those." It was just idle conversation, but James shook her hand, which was something he seldom did. In fact it had never happened before at all.
"Stevie was wondering where you and Miss Westmorland had gotten too, I think he'd like to see you both again."
Stevie was five, and loved to ask questions. He no doubt had some doozies now that it was out about her being from another world. Who could blame him?
It wasn't until the next round of people that Gwen realized the table was going to be a little more full than she'd first thought. When the door opened a group of about twelve people walked in, almost all at once. It was made up of the crew of the Peregrine, including most of the loaders, as well as Barbara, the Chargers Union rep and at least two people Gwen recognized as being workers in different capacities. One of those was Givens, the large bald loader that had shown up in her hallucination.
He was on Gloria the engineer's arm, looking a little embarrassed for some reason. That or very pleased, because Gloria looked good. Normally she reminded Gwen of a linebacker, but she was in make-up and had on a nice yellow dress this evening, as well as her hair being up. It made a huge difference.
She just hoped they had enough food for them all. She'd seen some of these people eat before. It might be a close thing.
Chapter thirteen
The meal was decent, but not overly elaborate for one of the Vernors' parties. That was on purpose, Gwen thought, since most of the people there were a little lower class, at least in the way this world decided things. The ship's crew were placed firmly in the middle of the long and well decorated table however, not at the far end, so it wasn't about slighting them at all or trying to claim they weren't as good as anyone else. No, the kids got the honor of being way down there.
She didn't even know who half of them were, but there were some Westmorlands worked in, and the Goebbels's daughters, so it was just segregation by age, rather than social position. Other than that the whole thing went wonderfully. Everyone was polite, no one belched at the table, and if anyone didn't like dealing with super-soldiers, they kept that information to themselves.
The conversation was largely led by Countess Goebbels and Agatha Longbranch, who was a very pleasant looking woman that seemed about the same age as Ethyl. She wasn't exactly pretty, but she was perfectly makeup and dressed exactly for the occasion, so it was very easy to forget she might not be the prettiest woman in the room. That didn't matter at all however, since the conversation had turned to the new Students Service campout coming up in a few days. That reminded Gwen of something, but she waited for there to be a lull in the conversation before asking the Admiral.
When the chance came she had to jump on it, since the other women seemed determined not to let the conversation lag at all.
"Uncle Thomas," it felt weird calling him that, since everyone knew he wasn't really her family now, but the man looked at her as if it was just the correct thing to say. "Would you be willing to lend me an airship and her crew for the week? I was thinking of setting some of the girls to being crew members for a day or so each, to let them get a feeling for the work. I know that it's short notice..." But then everything they were doing was. It really couldn't be helped at all, could it?
The man chuckled slightly, but not as if it were a joke, so at least she didn't have to explain that she really meant it. The Admiral apparently got that part of it all. He was familiar enough with Gwen now that he understood that her mind just worked that way from time to time.
"I think we can spare one, maybe send it on some local goods runs? That will take some doing, but if we're careful we can run partial loads, so the kids will have a chance to do some actual work. I suppose the boy's section will need one too?"
Gwen wasn't in charge of that, or of anything, but she nodded, as if it just made sense. After all, how many kids got to work on an airship during their school break? It was an adventure if nothing else.
"Yes. We should keep an eye open too, in case some of the older kids are looking for work. I'm sure that some of them are flocking to the Army and Air Navy, but having an extra year of practice on a good shipping vessel can't hurt, as far as discipline goes." Gwen tried to sound like it was a good idea, but she didn't really know that it was. After all, maybe it only worked the other way around or something?
It seemed to meet the general approval of the people at the table however, and got a wistful look from a very properly dressed girl at the far end, who Gwen was almost certain was one of the nobles.
"That sounds fascinating. I'd love to give it a try myself, just to say I'd done it, but I'm not allowed to attend the camp, since it's too uncontrolled." She didn't sound upset by that, but Countess Goebbels gave her a sharp and hard look. She didn't say anything about it however, not at the table.
Givens, the large, bald and slightly surly looking loader looked down the table at the cute girl and nodded.
"Yeah, that just seems about right. Too many people around to control really. You need to get with the Admiral on that and have him sneak you onto one of the ships when no one else is there. That would mean real work though, not the playing around the camp kids will probably be doing. Get a birth on the Peregrine maybe? That's the flag ship, and probably the best in the fleet." He looked down then, smiling and clearly seeming a bit chagrined. "I'm on the Griffin myself. Good, solid ship and crew, but probably not right for a fine young lady. Too many... people like me on it, I'm afraid."
That statement got a strange reaction from the table, since Countess Goebbels looked scandalized, but Admiral Welk just seemed considering, as if it were a real idea.
"Well... Gwen did a run with the Peregrine as a loader, and that worked out well, didn't it? Douglas, you're in charge of the loading crew directly, what do you think about the idea?" I
t was clearly meant to be simple conversation, but Groundling spoke as if people always called him by his first name.
He was slightly older, in his mid-forties or so and normally sounded hard and a bit dark, but for some reason he smiled brightly and let his voice hold something she hadn't thought it could posses at all. Culture. It nearly got her to stare, but Gwen kept feeling like Agatha the telesar lady would judge her if she did anything impolite like that.
"Well, sir... The work is physically demanding and alternates between very long hours of exhaustion, and mind numbing boredom. It wears on a body, but we could use the extra help. As mentioned by Miss Farris earlier, a lot of our personnel have gone back to the Air Navy, due to the recent crisis. It would be worth trying, however, on a probationary level."
That, it seemed, settled everything, since even Countess Goebbels stopped glaring then, clearly paying very close attention to what the man had said. It didn't make sense for a long time to Gwen, but she tried to ignore it, wondering why it had happened at all. It wasn't until the Count himself spoke that she got it.
"Duke Morten... This is the airship you work on? I'd heard of course, but didn't know which line you were with. Is it safe, do you think, for a young girl? I know that we can trust to your good will, naturally, but what of attack?"
Those words got most of the table to stare at Groundling, looks of shock on a lot of the faces, except for Thomas and Gloria, the ship's engineer. The Westmorlands all looked on politely, as if they'd recognized the man for who he was and Gwen decided to do the same. Groundling was her friend after all. He'd killed a man for her once after all.
Really, she decided on the fly, that he was some kind of noble doing manual labor for fun was a lot less important to her than that one event. It was a little odd maybe, but she'd met him while working on the same ship, and she was technically an alien. Which was actually stranger? Gwen had an odd feeling that she won that one on several fronts. Her face didn't look amazed then, even as a few others seemed shocked, like Smitty, and Meter. They didn't say anything however.
