by Follett, Ken
“Lady Maud is different from every other woman of her class I have ever met,” Ethel began. “When I started work as a maid at Tŷ Gwyn, she was the only member of the family who even noticed me. Here in London, when young unmarried women have babies, most respectable ladies grumble about moral decay—but Maud offers them real practical help. In the East End of London, she is regarded as a saint. However, she has her faults, and they are grave.”
Maud thought: What now?
“She is too serious to attract a normal man,” Ethel went on. “All the most eligible men in London have been drawn to her by her striking good looks and vivacious personality, only to be frightened away by her brains and her tough political realism. Some time ago I realized it would take a rare man to win her. He would have to be clever, but open-minded; strictly moral, but not orthodox; strong, but not domineering.” Ethel smiled. “I thought it was impossible. And then, January, he came up the hill from Aberowen in the station taxi and walked into Tŷ Gwyn, and the wait was over.” She raised her glass. “To the groom!”
They all drank again, then Ethel took Robert’s arm. “Now you can take me to the Ritz for dinner, Robert,” she said.
Walter seemed surprised. “I assumed we would all have dinner together here,” he said.
Ethel gave him an arch look. “Don’t be daft, man,” she said. She walked to the door, drawing Robert with her.
“Good night,” Robert said, though it was only six o’clock. The two of them went out and closed the door.
Maud laughed. Walter said: “That housekeeper is extremely intelligent.”
“She understands me,” Maud said. She went to the door and turned the key. “Now,” she said. “The bedroom.”
“Would you prefer to undress in private?” Walter said, looking worried.
“Not really,” Maud said. “Wouldn’t you like to watch?”
He swallowed, and when he spoke he sounded a little hoarse. “Yes, please,” he said. “I would.” He held the bedroom door open and she passed through.
Despite her show of boldness, she felt nervous as she sat on the edge of the bed and took off her shoes. No one had seen her naked since she was eight years old. She did not know whether her body was beautiful because she had never seen anyone else’s. By comparison with the nudes in museums, she had small breasts and wide hips. And there was a growth of hair between her legs that paintings never showed. Would Walter think her body was ugly?
He took off his coat and waistcoat and hung them up in a matter-of-fact way. She supposed they would get used to this one day. Everyone did it all the time. But somehow it felt strange, more intimidating than exciting.
She pulled down her stockings and took off her hat. She had nothing else superfluous. The next step was the big one. She stood up.
Walter stopped undoing his tie.
Quickly, Maud unfastened her dress and let it fall to the floor. Then she dropped her petticoat and pulled her lace blouse over her head. She stood in front of him in her underwear and watched his face.
“You are so beautiful,” he said in a half whisper.
She smiled. He always said the right thing.
He took her in his arms and kissed her. She began to feel less nervous, almost relaxed. She savored the touch of his mouth on hers, the gentle lips and the bristles of the mustache. She stroked his cheek, squeezed his earlobe between her fingertips, and ran her hand around the column of his neck, feeling everything with heightened awareness, thinking: All this is mine now.
“Let’s lie down,” he said.
“No,” she said. “Not yet.” She stepped away from him. “Wait.” She took off her chemise, revealing that she was wearing one of the newfangled brassieres. She reached behind her back, unfastened the clasp, and threw it to the floor. She looked at him defiantly, daring him not to like her breasts.
He said: “They are beautiful—may I kiss them?”
“You may do anything you like,” she said, feeling deliciously wanton.
He bent his head to her chest and kissed one, then the other, letting his lips brush delicately across her nipples, which stood up suddenly as if the air had turned cold. She had a sudden yen to do the same to him, and wondered if he would think it odd.
He might have kissed her breasts forever. She pushed him away gently. “Take off the rest of your clothes,” she said. “Quickly.”
He pulled off shoes, socks, tie, shirt, undershirt, and trousers; then he hesitated. “I feel shy,” he said, laughing. “I don’t know why.”
“I’ll go first,” she said. She untied the string of her drawers and pulled them off. When she looked up he was naked too, and she saw with a shock that his penis was sticking up from the thatch of fair hair at his groin. She remembered grasping it through his clothes at the opera, and now she wanted to touch it again.
He said: “May we now lie down?”
He sounded so correct that she laughed. A hurt look crossed his face, and she was immediately apologetic. “I love you,” she said, and his expression cleared. “Please let us lie down.” She was so excited she felt she might burst.
At first they lay side by side, kissing and touching. “I love you,” she said again. “How soon will you get bored with my saying that?”
“Never,” he said gallantly.
She believed him.
After a while he said: “Now?” and she nodded.
She parted her legs. He lay on top of her, resting his weight on his elbows. She was taut with anticipation. Shifting his weight to his left arm, he reached between her thighs, and she felt his fingers opening her moist lips, then something larger. He pushed, and suddenly she felt a pain. She cried out.
“I’m sorry!” he said. “I hurt you. I’m so terribly sorry.”
“Just wait a moment,” she said. The pain was not very bad. She was more shocked than anything else. “Try again,” she said. “Just gently.”
She felt the head of his penis touch her lips again, and she knew that it would not go inside: it was too big, or the hole was too small, or both. But she let him push, hoping for the best. It hurt, but this time she gritted her teeth and stopped herself crying out. Her stoicism did no good. After a few moments he stopped. “It won’t go in,” he said.
“What’s wrong?” she said miserably. “I thought this was supposed to happen naturally.”
“I don’t understand it,” he said. “I have no experience.”
“And I certainly have none.” She reached down and grasped his penis. She loved the feel of it in her hand, stiff but silky. She tried to maneuver it inside her, raising her hips to make it easier; but after a moment he pulled away, saying: “Ah! Sorry! It hurts me, too.”
“Do you think you’re bigger than usual?” she said tentatively.
“No. When I was in the army I saw many men naked. Some fellows have extra-large ones, and they are very proud, but I am average, and anyway I never heard even one of them complain of this difficulty.”
Maud nodded. The only other penis she had ever seen was Fitz’s, and as far as she could remember it was about the same size as Walter’s. “Perhaps I’m too small.”
He shook his head. “When I was sixteen, I went to stay in Robert’s family castle in Hungary. There was a maid there, Greta, who was very . . . vivacious. We did not have sexual intercourse, but we did experiment. I touched her the way I touched you in the library at Sussex House. I hope I am not making you angry by telling you this.”
She kissed his chin. “Not in the least.”
“Greta was not very different from you in that area.”
“Then what is wrong?”
He sighed and rolled off her. He put his arm under her head and pulled her to him, kissing her forehead. “I have heard that newly married couples may have difficulties. Sometimes the man is so nervous that he does not become erect. I have also heard of men who become overexcited and ejaculate even before intercourse takes place. I think we must be patient and love one another and see what happens.”
/> “But we have only one night!” Maud began to cry.
Walter patted her and said: “There, there,” but it did no good. She felt a complete failure. I believed I was so clever, she thought, escaping from my brother and marrying Walter secretly, and now it has all turned into a disaster. She was disappointed for herself but even more for Walter. How terrible for him to wait until the age of twenty-eight, then marry a woman who could not satisfy him!
She wished she could talk to someone about this, another woman—but who? The thought of discussing it with Aunt Herm was ludicrous. Some women shared secrets with their maids, but Maud had never had that kind of relationship with Sanderson. Perhaps she could talk to Ethel. Now that she came to think of it, it was Ethel who had told her it was normal to have hair between your legs. But Ethel had gone off with Robert.
Walter sat upright. “Let us order supper, and perhaps a bottle of wine,” he said. “We will sit down together as man and wife, and talk of this and that for a while. Then, later, we will try again.”
Maud had no appetite and could not imagine having a conversation about “this and that,” but she did not have a better idea, so she consented. Miserably, she put her clothes back on. Walter dressed quickly, went to the next room, and rang the bell for a waiter. She heard him ordering cold meats, smoked fish, salads, and a bottle of hock.
She sat by an open window and looked down at the street below. A newspaper placard said BRITISH ULTIMATUM TO GERMANY. Walter might be killed in this war. She did not want him to die a virgin.
Walter called her when the food had arrived and she joined him in the next room. The waiter had spread a white cloth and laid out smoked salmon, sliced ham, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, and sliced white bread. She did not feel hungry, but sipped the white wine he poured, and nibbled some salmon to show she was willing.
In the end, they did talk of this and that. Walter reminisced about his childhood, his mother, and his time at Eton. Maud spoke about house parties at Tŷ Gwyn when her father was alive. The most powerful men in the land were guests, and her mother would have to arrange the allocation of bedrooms so that men could be near their mistresses.
At first, Maud found herself consciously making conversation, as if they were two people who hardly knew one another; but soon they relaxed into their normal intimacy, and she just said whatever came into her mind. The waiter cleared away the supper and they moved to the couch, where they continued to talk, holding hands. They speculated about other people’s sex lives: their parents, Fitz, Robert, Ethel, even the duchess. Maud was fascinated to learn about men such as Robert: where they met, how they recognized one another, and what they did. They kissed each other just as men kissed women, Walter told her, and they did what she had done to him at the opera, and other things . . . He said he was not sure of the details, but she thought he did know and just felt embarrassed to say.
She was surprised when the clock on the mantelpiece struck midnight. “Let’s go to bed,” she said. “I want to lie in your arms, even if things don’t happen the way they’re supposed to.”
“All right.” He stood up. “Do you mind if I do something first? There is a telephone in the lobby for the use of guests. I’d like to phone the embassy.”
“Of course.”
He went out. Maud went to the bathroom along the corridor, then returned to the suite. She took off her clothes and got into bed naked. She almost felt she did not care what happened now. They loved one another, and they were together, and if that was all it would be enough.
Walter returned a few minutes later. His face was grim and she knew immediately that the news was bad. “Britain has declared war on Germany,” he said.
“Oh, Walter, I’m so sorry!”
“The note was received at the embassy an hour ago. Young Nicolson brought it round from the Foreign Office and got Prince Lichnowsky out of bed.”
They had known it was almost certain to happen, but even so the reality struck Maud like a blow. She could see that Walter was upset too.
He took off his clothes automatically, as if he had been undressing in front of her for years. “We leave tomorrow,” he said. He took off his underpants, and she saw that his penis in its normal state was small and wrinkled. “I must be at Liverpool Street station, with my bags packed, by ten o’clock.” He turned off the electric light and got into bed with her.
They lay side by side, not touching, and for an awful moment Maud thought he was going to go to sleep like that; then he turned to her and took her in his arms and kissed her mouth. Despite everything she was flooded with desire for him; indeed, it was almost as if their troubles had made her love him more urgently and desperately. She felt his penis grow and harden against her soft belly. After a moment he got on top of her. As before, he leaned on his left arm and touched her with his right hand. As before, she felt the hard penis pressing her lips. As before, it hurt—but only for a moment. This time, it slipped inside her.
There was another moment of resistance, then she lost her virginity; and suddenly he was all the way in and they were locked together in the oldest embrace of all.
“Oh, thank heaven,” she said; then relief gave way to delight, and she began to move in happy rhythm with him; and, at last, they made love.
PART TWO
THE WAR of GIANTS
CHAPTER TWELVE
Early to Late August 1914
Katerina was distraught. When the mobilization posters went up all over St. Petersburg she sat in Grigori’s room at the boardinghouse weeping, running her fingers distractedly through her long fair hair, and saying: “What am I going to do? What am I going to do?”
It made him long to take her in his arms and kiss her tears away and promise never to leave her side. But he could not make such a promise and anyway, she loved his brother.
Grigori had done his military service and was therefore a reservist, theoretically ready for battle. In fact most of his training had consisted of marching and building roads. Nevertheless he expected to be among the first summoned.
It made him fume with rage. The war was as stupid and pointless as everything else Tsar Nicholas did. There had been a murder in Bosnia, and a month later Russia was at war with Germany! Thousands of working-class men and peasants would be killed on both sides, and nothing would be achieved. It proved, to Grigori and everyone he knew, that the Russian nobility were too stupid to govern.
Even if he survived, the war would ruin his plans. He was saving for another ticket to America. With his wages from the Putilov factory he might do it in two or three years, but on army pay it would take forever. How many more years must he suffer the injustice and brutality of tsarist rule?
He was even more worried about Katerina. What would she do if he had to go to war? She was sharing a room with three other girls at the boardinghouse, and working at the Putilov factory, packing rifle cartridges into cardboard boxes. But she would have to stop work when the baby was born, at least for a while. Without Grigori, how would she support herself and the child? She would be desperate, and he knew what country girls did in St. Petersburg when they were desperate for money. God forbid that she should sell her body on the streets.
However, he was not called up on the first day, or the first week. According to the newspapers, two and a half million reservists had been mobilized on the last day of July, but that was just a story. It was impossible for so many men to be marshaled, issued with uniforms, and put on trains to the front all in one day, or indeed one month. They were called in groups, some sooner, some later.
As the first hot days of August went by, Grigori began to think he might have been left out. It was a tantalizing possibility. The army was one of the worst-managed institutions in a hopelessly disorganized country, and there would probably be thousands of men who were overlooked through sheer incompetence.
Katerina had got into the habit of coming to his room early every morning, while he was making breakfast. It was the highlight of his day. He was always washed and d
ressed by then, but she appeared wearing the shift she slept in, her hair bewitchingly tousled, yawning. The garment was too small for her, now that she was putting on weight. He calculated that she must be four and a half months pregnant. Her breasts and hips were larger, and there was a small but noticeable bulge in her belly. Her voluptuousness was a delightful torture. Grigori tried not to stare at her body.
One morning she came in while he was scrambling two hen’s eggs in a pan over the fire. He no longer made do with porridge for breakfast: his brother’s unborn child needed good food to grow strong and healthy. Most days Grigori had something nourishing to share with Katerina: ham, or herrings, or her favorite, sausage.
Katerina was always hungry. She sat at the table, cut a thick slice of black bread from the loaf, and began to eat, too impatient to wait. With her mouth full she said: “When a soldier is killed, who gets his back pay?”
Grigori recalled giving the name and address of his next of kin. “In my case, Lev,” he said.
“I wonder if he’s in America yet.”
“He must be. It doesn’t take eight weeks to get there.”
“I hope he’s found a job.”
“You don’t need to worry. He’ll be all right. Everyone likes him.” Grigori suffered a pang of angry resentment at his brother. It should have been Lev here in Russia looking after Katerina and her unborn baby, and worrying about the draft, while Grigori started the new life he had saved and planned for. But Lev had snatched that opportunity. And still Katerina fretted about the man who had abandoned her, not the one who had stayed.
She said: “I’m sure he’s doing well in America, but still I wish we’d had a letter from him.”
Grigori shaved a heel of hard cheese over the eggs and added salt. He wondered sadly whether they would ever hear from America. Lev had never been sentimental, and he might have decided to shuck off his past, like a lizard crawling out of its old skin. But Grigori did not voice this thought, out of kindness to Katerina, who was still hoping Lev would send for her.
