Lady Clementine

“A brilliantly colored portrait of Queen Elizabeth I peers back at me with an unflinching gaze. England’s longest reigning monarch would have never tolerated being kept waiting like this, and I feel almost as if she’s taking me to task for allowing the bishop to detract from my moment.”

As she waits for her marriage ceremony to conclude while the bishop and Winston Churchill chat, Clementine notices the portrait of Elizabeth I, the unmarried “Virgin Queen.” This portrait is an important symbol in the novel (See: Symbols & Motifs), as it invokes The Complexities of History and Gender that Clementine will repeatedly face. After noticing Elizabeth’s portrait, Clementine vows to be an equal partner in her marriage instead of playing the role of a subservient wife.

“But then I notice that all the table surfaces in the library are cluttered with miniature versions of war—metal soldiers, cannons, horses, and artillery, as if we’ve interrupted a battle—and that every chair has heaping piles of books teetering.”

Clementine’s first foray into Winston’s house reveals the hypermasculine decor, including miniatures of war, from soldiers to tanks and guns. These toys foreshadow Winston’s future as a leader of the admiralty and a war-time prime minister, while also reminding Clementine that she will now have to struggle to make her mark in a “man’s world” both domestically and politically.

“As I hold my husband in a grateful embrace, I see my future with Winston unspool before me. Perhaps this rescue is not meant to be my last. My husband’s discerning eye perceives all but the threats standing right in front of him, and it seems that I may have to serve as the sentinel of his personal landscape and the gatekeeper of our shared ideals and our marriage.”

At the Bristol train station, Clementine watches in horror as a suffragette with a whip attempts to drive Winston in front of a train. Having saved him, Clementine imagines her future as his partner, foreshadowing the many traps she will help him avoid and the lengths she will go to assist him. Her recognition of the important role she can play and the “shared ideals” that unite them is a reflection of The Nature of Marriage and Partnership.

“But the children do not settle me. Images of Winston and Violet alone at Downing Street, while the prime minister busies himself with stolen moments from another guest, Venetia, torment me. Violet will agree with all of Winston’s mixed views of suffrage among other things, leaving a hole into which she can insinuate herself.”

Forced to rest at home, Clementine imagines the worst of the prime minister’s daughter Violet, whom she knows still wishes to lure Winston into an affair. The “torment” Clementine feels reveals her insecurity and anxiety, as well as the constraints motherhood places upon her in keeping her in the domestic realm instead of joining Winston on his political visits.

“All of a sudden, Winston jumps. I glance at him and Violet, and I am just in time to see Violet’s bare foot snake back to her empty shoe from underneath Winston’s chair. All at once, I understand precisely the sort of game Violet is playing. I also understand why she thinks she has a chance at winning.”

On a trip aboard the Enchantress, Violet attempts to flirt with Winston, caressing him with her bare foot. This incident marks a turning point in Clementine and Winston’s marriage, as instead of passively and privately undergoing jealous torments, Clementine will choose to confront Violet directly instead. In standing up for herself and her marriage, Clementine reveals her growing confidence.

“The contractions grow closer and then blend into one ceaseless agony. I cannot stop from crying out. The pain sears like an unrelenting knife stab, rending me in two. Sweat pours from my brow, and the nurse mops my forehead in a useless gesture of comfort. I shove her hand away, and howl in exhaustion and torment. The urge to push takes hold of me, and then suddenly, it ceases.”

The depictions of Sarah’s birth are visceral and violent—likened to a knife wound that tears Clementine’s body apart as Clementine “howls in exhaustion and torment.” The passage reflects both the difficulties of motherhood and Clementine’s own struggles in the domestic realm, as she often experiences motherhood as a burden and source of pain in ways both literal and figurative.

“He speaks sharply to me, and I grow quiet, closing around myself like an oyster around its pearl. I wait for the apology I know will come, as his mounting despair has yielded many outbursts and has required many apologies.”

Following the disaster at the Dardanelles and Winston’s subsequent removal from power, his mood darkens. Although Clementine tries to help and to suggest a way to regain power, he snaps at her sarcastically, and, before he can apologize, Clementine imagines herself as an oyster. Oysters create pearls out of sand or other irritants, and the pearl represents beauty born of pain. Clementine, again and again, transforms her pain into things that are useful, beautiful, or both.

“How long has it been since I read Randolph, Diana, and Sarah a bedtime story? I wonder. That ritual was once my favorite, a bright light amid the onerous darkness of children’s chores.”

Describing her distant feelings toward her children, Clementine depicts her duties as drudgery, save reading them bedtime stories. She describes reading to them as “a bright light,” contrasting it to the “onerous darkness” of her other interactions with them, which she calls “chores.” Clementine’s ambiguous feelings toward motherhood reflect The Complexities of History and Gender, revealing her desire to exercise her skills and talents beyond the domestic realm.

“This constant shifting of homes, too reminiscent of my unhappy, itinerant childhood, layered strain upon my already stretched nerves. I struggled along for years, desperately trying to ignore my situation, until I suddenly couldn’t.”

Years of living on a tight budget and moving from home to home as Winston’s political fortunes shift exhausts Clementine, and she compares her life with Winston to her unstable upbringing. Clementine now recognizes that convalescence from her family is necessary, which begins her transformation into a more confident and public figure.

“Was I really part of this or merely a bystander to world-shaping events? History would likely only record my husband, although I played a significant hand in his affairs. I suppose only time will tell.”

Clementine attends a political conference in Cairo, Egypt after her months spent separated from Winston and her family. After Winston implores her to join an official photograph of the participants, Clementine demurs, before reluctantly agreeing. Clementine here acknowledges that only the passage of time will confirm her erasure or inclusion in the historical record, as she is well-aware that women are often relegated to the status of mere “bystander” instead of active player. In wondering if she too will face erasure, Clementine faces The Complexities of History and Gender.

“And then she stopped breathing. I don’t remember anything that happened afterward, except the noise of an animal howling. Winston later told me that it was I who had made that sound.”

Clementine hears that Marigold, her fourth and youngest child, has become ill with septicemia, and she races to nurse her back to health. Marigold survives long enough to see her mother before dying suddenly. Clementine’s grief, erupting in “the noise of an animal howling,” once more speaks to her ambiguous and complicated feelings around motherhood, leading her to doubt her own maternal abilities.

“Winston wants to entomb me in my nobility, to make me part of the very structure of Chartwell, his idealized version of England in miniature. It suits him to ignore my foibles and view me as a sculpture of a perfect wife and mother, because a sculpture doesn’t have needs or desires. A sculpture doesn’t ask anything of him.”

Clementine admits that Winston’s adoration of her and failure to see her in her complexity transforms her into a non-living, statue-like being, frozen in time and made part of the country home he bought without her knowledge. Making her into a sculpture robs her of humanity, feelings, and errors. Clementine begins to chafe against this reduction more and more, gradually leading her to redefine The Nature of Marriage and Partnership through her own growing agency.

“His words are small solace for his inability to fully reciprocate my feelings. And yet, as he beams at me, the warmth of his admiration spreads through me, and I realize that perhaps what I actually adore most about Terence is the courageous, exuberant woman I become in his company, not weighed down by others’ cares and not rushing to judgment of others. And that is something I can bring home with me.”

Aboard the Rosaura, Clementine meets Terence. They spend time together, and Clementine eventually makes an advance. After he implies he’s gay and rebuffs her, she recognizes that her attraction to him was not based on who he is, but on the fact she has become a more “courageous, exuberant woman […] in his company.” In vowing to “bring home with [her]” her newfound confidence, Clementine fully embraces her own agency.

“The creature wasn’t as flashy as some of the tropical birds we’d encountered, and at first, I questioned why Terence seemed so drawn to it. But as I walked toward it, I noticed its bright coral feet, silvery gray feathers, its blush-colored belly, and the subtle patch of black-and-white-speckled feathers that encircled its throat like a necklace.”

In the market on Bali, Terence haggles for a dove, which he gives to Clementine to remind her of her worth. As Clementine examines the bird, she begins to see why Terence chose the bird for her: Its unassuming appearance from afar hides its colorful attributes and value, which require study and attention. The bird thus represents her own hidden talents and personal transformation (See: Symbols & Motifs).

“Wearing an uncharacteristically somber dark-blue coat, I keep a steady clip as I stride toward the makeshift stage that the navy hastily constructed at the harbor for this occasion.”

On one of the many occasions that Winston cannot attend an event as prime minister, Clementine goes in his stead. These lines describe her appearance and actions as she goes to christen a warship. Implicitly, she becomes a warship herself, wearing a navy coat and moving at “a steady clip,” a measure of speed often used with boats and ships. Foreshadowing her imminent confronting of Winston’s private secretary Jock Colville for his conversations about her, Clementine prepares for war in her somber uniform.

“As I labor to secure these places for women, I realize that the arc of my life mirrors that of many women. With both feet, we leap into life with our spouses, ready to offer whatever skills we have to the marriage and engage with the world, only to face marginalization at some point along the way.”

As Clementine advocates for The Role of Women in WWII, she sees the reflection of her life in theirs, regardless of class, station, or upbringing. The life of every woman, Clementine suggests, follows the same progression, moving from energetic beginnings to impediments and barriers, which are both literal and figurative. Her recognition of these unfair gender norms also reflects The Complexities of History and Gender.

“The unbidden tears that I’d managed to hold back earlier now return, and for a brief, wonderous moment, I feel my long-gone brother and sister standing alongside Nellie and me. And Marigold as well.”

During a Christmas dinner during World War II, Clementine takes stock of her life and becomes sad that her sister Kitty and brother Bill, along with her young daughter Marigold, have died and cannot join their happy occasion. The passage is a moment of emotional vulnerability for Clementine, allowing her to fully feel her losses.

“A welling forth of laughter, like a spring bursting from the frozen earth, breaks into my reverie. Scanning the table, I realize that Pamela is laughing at something Mr. Harriman said.”

Clementine’s daughter-in-law Pamela appears to find Averell Harriman, a wealthy American businessman, charming, as she laughs at his jokes. While Clementine could take offense on her son’s behalf, she instead imagines Pamela as awakening, likening her laughter to water bursting forth from “frozen earth.” Central to her metaphor are Clementine’s negative feelings toward her son and his repeated violations of The Nature of Marriage and Partnership, along with the hope that the affair can strengthen the Anglo American alliance.

“Why am I surprised at the unhurried passage of time today? After all, I feel as though I’ve been treading in increasingly viscous, torpid waters for the past few months, desperately waiting for some form of relief to emerge from the depths.”

On the day that Winston leaves for the White House, Clementine confesses how long she’s waited. As the day approaches and arrives, however, time seems to slow down—an effect of her great desire to be alone, to get some rest from Winston. Clementine imagines time as water, and this metaphor suggests that, without a break from her duties, she might drown.

“Another woman might have been enraged if she discovered her daughter-in-law was cuckolding her son, but I am no longer that woman. Randolph has treated poor Pamela terribly, with no remorse whatsoever, and I cannot begrudge her this affair, which, by all accounts, she initiated.”

Clementine confesses that she bears no ill-will toward Pamela for her indiscretions, not only because of her son’s terrible behavior toward The Nature of Marriage and Partnership but also because of the salutatory effect the affair might have on Harriman’s view of the English and the information Pamela could collect for Winston. Clementine’s stance here reveals that she now recognizes that wives have the right to fair treatment and their own desires; since Pamela lacks such fulfillment, Clementine cannot censure her for the affair.

“She pauses, and I see that she is weighing whether she should elaborate, whether she can confide in me what everyone already knows—that her husband keeps a veritable harem of adoring women at his beck and call and that his marriage is primarily a political alliance.”

During Eleanor’s visit to England, she and Clementine bond over their shared burden and needy husbands. As Clementine confides in Eleanor about Winston’s difficult nature and their distance, Eleanor seems poised to confess that FDR is unfaithful, and their marriage has become “primarily a political alliance." Eleanor’s determination to assert her own agency and political voice instead of passively allowing herself to be eclipsed by her husband reflects The Complexities of History and Gender, which Clementine well understands.

“Unbeknownst to Winston—contrary to his intention, in fact—his words only confirm my discontent and my determination to change. Without speaking, I leave the room. So engrossed is Winston in his own verbiage that he does not even notice my departure. His voice continues to drone on in conversation with me even as I walk away and down the hall.”

Eleanor confesses to Clementine that Winston told her and FDR that Clementine avoids any political involvement or public attention, and Clementine confronts Winston about this. As he explains himself, she feels frustrated and diminished. One of his greatest gifts—his speech-making—has grown tired and stale to Clementine, who leaves her husband without him even noticing her absence. The passage reflects the struggles Clementine and Winston often face in navigating The Nature of Marriage and Partnership.

“I seek those areas where he’s shown himself to be historically blind, even when my involvement requires me to challenge myself.”

After Eleanor’s departure, the distance between Clementine and Winston appears to grow on certain subjects, with Clementine becoming even more involved with women’s rights. Winston’s occasional ignorance of these issues opens up a space for Clementine to “challenge [her]self” by stepping in to fill the gaps Winston leaves behind.