It was spring 1915. On April 22, the German army shocked the allied soldiers by firing more than one hundred and fifty tons of lethal chlorine gas against two divisions at Ypres in Belgium. Win and Andrew were both present during the horrendous attack. It absolutely devastated the Allied line. The deadly gas even permeated the trenches and was blown by the winds. Everywhere one looked, there were soldiers staggering about, unable to see or to breathe. Foam was coming out of their mouths. They fell to the ground and convulsed, dying horrific deaths. Many of the men were sobbing, calling for their mothers.

Why was it that men always called for their mothers at the end of their lives? Win wondered. He was certain that if ever faced with such a horrible situation, Josephine’s would be the last name he uttered.

He’d never, in his wildest dreams, imagined anything remotely like what he witnessed. Shortly after the gas attack, Win realised that Andrew had inhaled what must have been a significant amount of the deadly poison. At first, he thought perhaps his dear chum and brother-in-law was only wounded. However, when Win reached his side, it was abundantly clear that Andrew, with whom he’d spent every hour of each day whenever possible and for so many months, was dying.

Many soldiers moved on, but others were writhing on the ground in agony, awaiting ambulances to collect them and take them to base hospitals. There was actually little that could be done for the wretched creatures. Win knelt with his arm about Andrew's shoulders, hoping against hope that something might help his friend. There was blood seeping from Andrew’s mouth, and his skin had literally turned a greenish hue from him having breathed in the fatal gas. He was also convulsing, and mixed with blood there was froth. It was clear that Andrew had been called upon to pay the supreme sacrifice.

It was amazing Win hadn’t also succumbed to the gas attack. He’d remembered from his training to cover his mouth. It was believed that the ammonia in urine counteracted the gas. So, after soaking a piece of torn shirt with his own bodily fluid, he had tied it round the lower half of his face. It must have contributed to saving his life.

Andrew died in Win’s arms. There was almost a feeling of relief when Win saw that Andrew was no longer suffering. Win had seen many deaths during his military duty, but nothing had come close to the carnage he had just witnessed. Since he was the ranking officer, he buried his chum, calling upon three other men from his unit to dig graves for Andrew and four others. The ground was literally strewn with bodies—some dead and some still living, writhing on the ground in unimaginable agony. After the burial of Andrew, Win had no memory of how he’d managed to return to his base. He only knew he still had to face the nearly impossible task of writing to Elisabeth, Andrew’s wife and Win’s own sister. It was the end of a truly gruesome day.

Win had no idea what words he would choose. His wife was due to deliver their child in May. After seeing what had happened to his dearest friend, he wondered if he would be alive to learn whether he was the father of a boy or a girl.

Following the mournful task of writing to his sister, he trudged forward to join his regiment. The loss of Andrew had an enormous impact on Win. Prior to Andrew’s death, the two would view going "over-the-top" as a great adventure. No matter how grim things had become, they always found something to joke about. All merriment was gone. Win slogged on and only hoped the beastly war would come to an end, so he could return to his beloved Josephine. His heart ached when he thought of the pain Elisabeth would be experiencing. He suspected that she would return to Winthrop Manor upon receipt of the news that she was a widow. Win didn’t know how he felt about that. She should be with her parents, but he questioned whether they would do everything in their power to convince her she’d made an impulsive decision in marrying Andrew. Win was concerned about her.

***

Elisabeth received the letter from her brother a week later on April 27, 1915. Before she even opened it, she had a sick feeling in her stomach. The sight of Win’s handwriting, addressed to her and not to his wife, gave her significant pause. Sure enough, when she opened the envelope and began to read, her head grew light. She was about to faint. Before she keeled over, she called for Josephine, who was immediately by her side. Elisabeth was lying on the front walk, having returned from the post box, the letter still clasped in her hand. Josephine cradled Elisabeth's head and smoothed back her hair. If she hadn’t become conscious when she did, Josephine would have run back inside the cottage and called a physician. They had a telephone in their new home. Elisabeth’s eyes fluttered and then opened.

“Oh, my God, Josephine. Read the letter. I can scarcely think,” she whispered.

Josephine took the letter from her sister-in-law’s hand and proceeded to read it. Andrew was dead. Dead and buried somewhere in France. It seemed impossible. Elisabeth had only yesterday received a letter from him, in which he'd said that over all, things weren’t so terribly bad. Apparently, the disgusting Huns had used gas on their enemy. The letter was in Win’s handwriting. Andrew had breathed the deadly toxicant, and the inexplicable effects had ended his life. Win had held Andrew as he died. Josephine’s heart ached for Elisabeth. How on Earth could she possibly cope with such news?

Elisabeth fully opened her eyes. “He’s dead, Josephine. My precious Andrew is dead. Oh, god. He’s your only brother, too. I can’t believe this has happened. I simply cannot imagine a future without Andrew.”

Tears were streaming down Josephine’s face, too. She had loved her brother from the moment she could first remember him. He’d always been there for her. It was impossible to think he would no longer be a part of her life. However, she quickly turned her thoughts to Elisabeth.

“Oh, you poor darling. What can I do to help? Shall I notify your parents? I know you’ve had a falling out, but at times like this, a girl needs her mother.”

“No. No. She won’t care,” Elisabeth replied.

Then there was silence. Finally, Elisabeth pulled herself up into a sitting position.

“Yes. Yes. I do want my parents to know. My mother will undoubtedly be of no help, but my father has love in his heart. He’ll understand how I feel.”

“Certainly, I’ll telephone them straightaway. Will you be all right if I leave you alone for just a minute? Do you need a glass of water or a cold cloth?”

“No, I’ll be all right. Help me to my feet. I’ll come into the house with you.”

Josephine put her arm around her sister-in-law's waist and brought her to a standing position. Then the two entered the front door of the cottage. Josephine still held the crumpled letter in her hand. She helped Elisabeth to lie on the sofa in the parlour and quickly rang the Winthrop number. Radcliffe answered.

“Radcliffe, this is Josephine, Win’s wife. I’m sorry to bother you, but is Win’s father at home. Elisabeth has received some dreadful news. I must speak with him."

“Certainly, my lady. He’s right here. Let me put him on,” he replied.

The next voice she heard was that of the Lord Winthrop.

“Lord Winthrop here,” he answered.

“My lord, this is Win’s wife, Josephine. I am indeed sorry to bother you, but Elisabeth has just now learned that Andrew was killed by the wretched poisonous gas the Huns used on our troops on April 22. She’s in a bad way. All undone. She needs her parents. Can you come?”

“Of course, Josephine. I’m grateful for your call. I’ll have David bring me to your cottage in a tick.”

“Wait. My lord, we no longer live with my uncle. Before Win left for the war, he commissioned a new cottage for Elisabeth and me on my Uncle Roderick’s land. Let me give you the directions.” She proceeded to do so while the Lord Winthrop wrote them down.

“Right,” he responded. “I have it. I’ll be there shortly.”

Josephine replaced the receiver and went to Elisabeth’s side. “I reached your father. He’s on his way. He didn’t mention your mother. I don’t know if he’s bringing her or not.”

“God, I hope not. I’ll be given some dreadful lecture about how I never should have married Andrew to begin with,” cried Elisabeth.

“Oh, surely not. Your father sounds truly devastated. I feel certain your mother will share his feelings.”

“Don’t count on it, Josephine,” Elisabeth managed to say between sobs. “Oh, dear God, what am I to do? I loved him so. I’ll never love anyone like that again. I can’t believe I’ll never see him again.”

“You will see him again. You were lawfully married in a Christian church. You’ll be together again someday,” Josephine responded. “I truly believe that.”

“I know. I do, too. But it may be such an interminably long time. I wanted to have his children. I wanted to grow old with him. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.”

“Darling girl, I know. That’s the way I’d feel if Win were to die.”

“Yes, but you’re about to have his baby. You’ll always have a part of him. I’m left with nothing.”

“No. You have memories. Lovely memories. As long as you’re alive, Andrew will be, too. The same is true of me. I remember when he was a youngster and was my older brother. He’s still alive in my heart, just as he is in yours.”

“That’s a lovely way to think of it.” She sniffled. “Still, I want his arms around me. I want to place my head on his shoulder. Oh, Josephine, how can I live without him?”

“Sweetheart, I wish I could tell you. I don’t know. It’s enough to send me over the cliff. I’d feel just as you do if I learned Win was never coming home to me. It’s unbearable for me to imagine that I’ll never see my brother again. I know they say time heals all wounds. There must be hundreds of thousands of women who’ve had to go through this, and think of how many more there will be. Take time to heal, Elisabeth. In time, I imagine the pain will ease. Think of what Andrew would want you to do.”

Just then, there was a knock at their door. It had to be Elisabeth’s father. Josephine opened it, and sure enough, there stood the Lord Winthrop.

“Hello, my lord,” she said in a doleful voice. “Your daughter has suffered a devastating blow. She needs you. Please, come in.”

He thanked her and entered the cottage, glancing about him in what Josephine clearly felt was a critical manner. Naturally, if her home was Winthrop Manor, she supposed she too might be critical of a small, thatched-roof cottage, but Elisabeth had chosen to make her home with Josephine when she might have stayed with her parents while Andrew was serving in the military. Josephine didn’t care what his opinion was. She led him to the sofa, where his daughter was stretched out, a cloth on her head.

“Daddy,” she murmured. “Daddy. My husband is dead. Gone. I’m heartbroken. I’ll never see him again. I don’t want to live.”

“Now, now, Elisabeth. I truly am sorry for this horrible loss. I know you loved him, and I believe he loved you as much. Your mother and I were wrong not to have accepted your marriage. I apologise to you for that. However, we need to put those feeling into the past where they belong. Andrew’s death changes everything. You belong back with us.”

He turned to Josephine. “My dear, I know you’ve felt more secure having Elisabeth’s company. Can I convince you to join us at Winthrop Manor, so the two of you won’t be parted? Also, it’s obvious your baby is due most any time. We’ll make certain you have a nanny, and the child will have the best of everything. The house has a wonderful nursery, just waiting for another child to begin his or her life there. Please, say you’ll come with Elisabeth. We’ll all be a family.

“Absolutely not, my lord. I do believe it’s probably best for Elisabeth to return to her parents. She has a long period of grief ahead of her. To see me have Win’s baby would only remind her that she has nothing of Andrew left. I myself am crushed to have lost my only brother. I believe I belong right here in the cottage Win planned for me. I'll have my uncle Roderick if I feel lonely. I hate losing Elisabeth, but I want what’s best for her.” Josephine turned to her sister-in-law. “Elisabeth, if you prefer to stay with me, you know I adore being with you. However, I feel I must say that you probably belong with your own family, at least for a period. Should the time come when you want to return to me, you need only say the word.”

“Oh, Josephine. You’ve been so good to me. I hate leaving you alone. I’m so undone. I don’t know what the right thing to do is,” she sobbed. “Daddy, is mother in agreement with you? I really cannot stand to listen to her berate me for marrying Andrew, or hear her make snide remarks about the fact that his pedigree wasn’t as fine as mine. I loved him with all my heart. I always shall. Either both of you accept my feelings, or I’d prefer to stay with Josephine.”

“We shall both accept it, Elisabeth. I’ve spoken with my lady. There will be no derogatory remarks made. She understands how deep your heartbreak must be. So please, agree to come home with me. It’s where you belong, darling.”

“All right. I do think it would be for the best right now. But if there is anything amiss, I’m returning to Josephine at once. I mean it.”

“I realise you do. Now, David has the car waiting outside. Come with me, and we’ll get you settled in your old bedchamber. Then I’ll send him back to retrieve your clothing and whatever else you wish to bring home with you.”

“All right,” she answered, wiping her nose with a handkerchief. “Josephine, thank you so much for understanding. You’ve been such an incredible sister-in-law. Of course, I’ll be your baby’s aunt. You must bring him or her to see me the moment the birth occurs.”

“I promise I shall,” Josephine replied. “I think you’re doing the proper thing. I believe it’s what Andrew would have wanted. Don’t worry. You’re still my sister-in-law. Nothing will ever change that.”

*****

On May 12, 1915, Josephine went into labor. Elisabeth was no longer at the cottage. Josephine most definitely would have called Roderick, but he still had no telephone. She was completely alone. She was frightened and not certain what to do. She considered instructing the stable boy to run to her uncle’s cottage and have him collect her in his automobile, but it was quite a distance from her cottage, and the pains seemed to be very close together. In a frantic moment, she telephoned Winthrop Manor. It truly was the only thing she might have done. Radcliffe answered, and she didn’t ask for anyone else. Instead, she asked that the message of her labor be given to whoever was available.