Introduction

New from Marie Benedict, the New York Times bestselling author of The Only Woman in the Room! An incredible novel that focuses on one of the people who had the most influence during World War I and World War II: Clementine Churchill.

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Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

September 12, 1908

London, England

I

always feel different. No matter the sphere I inhabit, I always feel set apart. Even today. Especially today.

The weak, early September sun strains to break through the darkness of the cold morning. The pallid rays illuminate the cavernous bedroom assigned to me by my benefactress, Lady St. Helier. They hit the white satin dress hanging on the mannequin, reminding me that the gown waits for me.

As I finger the delicately embroidered, square-­cut bodice, its sleek Venetian fabric finer than any I’ve ever worn, I am seized by a sensation fiercer than the usual isolation that often besets me. I crave connection.

I hunt for the clothes the maids unpacked from my trunk and placed into the dresser drawers and mirrored armoire when I arrived at 52 Portland Place a fortnight ago. But I find nothing other than the corset and undergarments meant to be worn under the white gown today. Only then do I realize that the maids must have packed my belongings back into my trunk for my journey af-terward. The mere thought of afterward sends a shiver through me.

Tying my gray silk dressing gown tightly around my waist, I tiptoe down the grand staircase of Lady St. Helier’s mansion. At first, I don’t know precisely what I am seeking, but I have an epiphany when I spot a housemaid working in the par-lor. She’s kneeling before the fireplace grate.

The sound of my footfalls startles the poor girl, and she jumps. “Morning, Miss Hozier. May I help you with anythin’?” she says, wiping her blackened fin-gers on the cloth dangling from her apron.

I hesitate. Will I endanger the girl if I enlist her help? Surely Lady St. Helier will forgive any protocol breach I cause today.

“As a matter of fact, I could use your assistance. If it is not too much trouble, that is.” ?The apology is heavy in my voice.

After I explain my predicament to the girl, whose age must match my own, she races away down the back hallway toward the kitchen. At first, I think she may have misunderstood my request or thought me mad. But I follow her, and when she scurries across the rough wooden kitchen floor toward the servants’ staircase, I understand.

Wincing at the loud clatter of her work boots stomping up the stairway and down the hallway of the attic where the servants’ bedrooms are, I wait. I silently pray that her racket does not rouse the rest of the staff. I fear that if they appear for their morning chores and find me in the kitchen, one of them will alert Lady St. Helier. When the girl returns with a bundle in hand—­without any additional servants in tow—­I sigh in relief.

“What is your name?” I ask, reaching for the bundle.

“Mary, miss,” she answers with a minuscule curtsy.

“I shall be forever in your debt, Mary.”

“It’s my pleasure, Miss Hozier.” She gives me a conspiratorial smile, and I re-alize that she is enjoying her part in this unorthodox plan. It may be the only de-viation in the sameness of her days.

As I pivot and walk back toward the grand staircase, Mary whispers, “Why don’t you change in the pantry, miss? Less chance of being found out than if you head back up them stairs. I’ll make sure your clothes are returned to your bedroom before anyone notices them.”

The girl is right. Every step I take up that creaky grand staircase is one step closer to waking the lady of the house and her servants. Taking her advice, I enter the jar-­lined pantry and close the door only partially to ensure some light will reach the enclosed space. I let my dressing gown and robe slide down and puddle on the floor, and I unwrap the bundle. Pulling out a surprisingly sweet floral dress, I shimmy into its floor-­grazing cotton and then lace up the black boots Mary thoughtfully included.

“Fits you right well, Miss Hozier,” the girl says when I step back into the kitchen. As she hands me her coat off the peg on the wall, she says, “Godspeed to you.”

I hurry out the servants’ door at the rear of the house and make my way down an alleyway that runs behind the row of luxurious Georgian homes lining Port-land Place. I pass by kitchen windows beginning to glow with lamps lit by serv-ants readying the house for their masters. A bustling world lies behind the man-sions of Lady St. Helier and her friends, but because I always enter through the front doors, I’ve never witnessed the province at the back.

The alley lets out onto Weymouth Street, where a motor bus stops. It’s head-ing west to Kensington, and I know the route fairly well as I’ve taken it the other direction toward Lady St. Helier’s on several occasions. Mary’s wool coat is too thin for the brisk morning, and as I wait for the bus, I wrap it tightly around me in the vain hope of extracting a bit more warmth from its meager fibers. I wonder how Mary makes it through the winter in such a coat.

The unadorned hat that Mary leant me bears only a small brim, and conse-quently, the working girl disguise does nothing to mask my face. When I step onto the bus, the driver recognizes me from the photographs that have run in the newspapers in recent days. He stares at me but says nothing at first. Finally, he sputters, “Surely you’re in the wrong place, Miss”—­he drops his voice to a whis-per, realizing that he shouldn’t reveal my identity—­“Hozier.”

“I am precisely where I mean to be, sir,” I answer in a tone that I hope is kind yet firm. His eyes never leave my face as he takes the fare Mary had given me from her savings—­which I plan to replace multifold—­but he doesn’t say anoth-er word.

I keep my gaze lowered to shield my face from the curious onlookers who have been alerted to the oddness of my presence by the driver’s reaction. I hop off the bus the moment it nears Abingdon Villas, and I feel lighter the closer I come to the cream-­colored stucco house bearing the number 51. By the time I reach up to lift the heavy brass knocker, the tightness in my chest begins to loosen, and I breathe with ease. No one answers the door immediately, but I am not surprised. Here, no bevy of servants lies in wait in the kitchen, ever ready to answer the knock of a front door or the ring of a master’s bell. Here, one servant does the work of many, and the household inhabitants do the rest.

I wait, and after several long minutes, my patience is rewarded with an open door. The face of my beloved sister Nellie, still creased with sleep, appears. She rushes in for an embrace before the shock of seeing me registers and she freezes.

“What on earth are you doing here, Clementine? And in those clothes?” she asks. Her expression is quizzical. “Today is your wedding day.” view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

1. Winston Churchill is one of the most recognizable figures of modern history. What did you know about his personal life before you read Lady Clementine? Did you have any understanding of his wife and children in particular, and did the book challenge any preconceived ideas about his private life? ?

2. While Clementine’s ancestral background was aristocratic, she grew up in relatively reduced financial circumstances, carrying the additional burdens of a peripatetic childhood and the uncertainty of her paternity. How did her unusual upbringing affect her behavior and opinions? How, in turn, did her belief system and background affect Winston, if at all? ?

3. Lady Clementine opens with Clementine describing herself as being “set apart” from the rest of society. How did this feeling manifest throughout the novel, and did it change throughout her life? How did this sense of otherness impact her relationship with Winston? ?

4. Throughout the course of the book, Clementine is transformed from a bright but hesitant and sometimes self-doubting young bride into the formidable wife of the prime minister, with a power base of her own and an impressive list of initiatives. Did Clementine’s metamorphosis surprise you, particularly given the historical limitations of women in the political realm? How did Clementine’s relationship with Winston both further her growth and hinder it? What sacrifices did she have to make in order to become such an influential political wife?

5. While motherhood was different in the time period of the novel and the class in which the Churchills operated, Clementine struggled with it. How would you characterize Clementine as a mother? Did she evolve as a parent over the years? Do you feel that she crossed the line of acceptability, even in the context of her time? How did her relationship with Winston impact her mothering? Compare and contrast modern motherhood with historical motherhood from this time, keeping in mind variations in class. ?

6. What drew Winston and Clementine together, and how did that change over the decades? How did Winston’s political alliances impact their interactions? What goal united them when their political views weren’t precisely aligned? ?

7. After she spends time with Eleanor Roosevelt, Clementine comes to a shocking realization about Winston’s view of her identity, or at least the way he presents her identity to the Roosevelts. What is the importance of female relationships in Clementine’s story and in the stories of other strong women? ?

8. Which, if any, of the characters in Lady Clementine do you find yourself relating to the most? Did you connect with Clementine?
?
9. What is the most surprising thing you learned about Clementine? Did it relate to her parenting? Her marriage to Winston? Her relationship with Terence Philip on the Rosauro? The amount of time away from her family? ?

10. Discuss the ways in which Clementine’s life encompassed issues that were not only historic but modern as well. ?

11. Winston Churchill left an enormous mark on history, and he is credited with saving Britain during World War II—but you now know that Clementine was a deeply influential figure in Winston’s professional and personal life behind the scenes. Do you think he would’ve been as successful if he didn’t have Clementine support- ing him? How would you characterize her legacy?

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