by Rose Meddon
Against the bright sunshine, he narrowed his eyes. ‘Pleasant ones, I trust.’
Feeling no need to lie to him, she shook her head. ‘Not really. My mind was all a-wrestle with thoughts of this war that everyone says is coming.’
‘Ah.’ Standing with his jacket hooked over a finger, he cocked his head. ‘I should imagine the prospect fills you with concern.’
She nodded. And then, staring down at the dozen or so long-stemmed sweet-peas she had cut, she said, ‘Is it going to come? War, I mean.’
She watched him shrug. Rather than a gesture of careless disregard, it struck her as one of genuine doubt.
‘If one believes what’s written in some of the newspapers, one would say it is almost inevitable. Listen to others, and one might think there’s still a chance it can be avoided.’
Hardly what she had been hoping to hear. ‘Oh. I see.’
‘I read this morning that Sir Edward Grey – he’s the Foreign Secretary – wants Britain and Germany to mediate between Russia and Austria-Hungary. The newspaper was rather dismissive of his chances of success, though, intimating that there are those in Germany who would rather like to see Austria crush little Serbia.’
‘So, it’s more likely to come than not?’ she said, grateful that for once, someone thought her worthy of an explanation. ‘Only, since I know nothing of the matter, I struggle to know what to think.’
‘I should like to be able to reassure you,’ he said. ‘But for the moment, that’s rather beyond any of us to do.’
‘It’s just that some people – around here, I mean – are already talking of going to fight.’
‘I know. Unsettling, isn’t it?’
She nodded. ‘Horrid. I don’t even like it when people have a falling-out, let alone having to think of them setting upon each other with guns and… things.’
‘Me neither. I like it best when everyone just gets along. Alas, we’re not all destined to see eye-to-eye.’
Inside, she had a question burning away at her, driven in part by the memory of the earnestness on Luke’s face as he told her of his own intentions to go and fight. Ordinarily, she would never have the courage to raise such a thing with someone like Mr Edwin but, since he was already talking so freely, she summoned her courage. ‘Would you go and fight?’ she asked. When all he did was raise an eyebrow, she flushed and hastened to apologize. ‘Forgive me, sir. That’s none of my business.’
‘On the contrary,’ he replied, shifting his jacket to his other hand. ‘The prospect of war makes it everyone’s business. Would I go and fight? I would almost certainly have no choice. My conscience would not allow me to stay at home while others went willingly to defend the realm. Would I relish the task? No. Would I have it in me to kill another human being? That, I cannot say. Until any one of us is faced with such a dilemma, who among us can know? Standing here on such a golden afternoon, the prospect makes me sick to my stomach. But, if a soldier from an enemy army shot the man standing next to me, or came rushing out of that copse, bayonet fixed, intent on killing both of us, would I feel differently? I should imagine I would.’
When he finished speaking, Kate let out a long sigh. In many ways, it was a perfect answer: a carefully weighed argument between an ideal and the rather harsher reality. Curiously, it also felt far more reassuring than any of the brave talk that Luke had spouted.
‘When you put it like that, I understand,’ she said. But then, feeling the sun burning the lower half of her arms and suddenly remembering where she was, she looked about. Heat was shimmering up from the pale and newly-mown lawns, while the indigo shadow under the cedar tree looked cool and inviting. ‘Forgive me,’ she said again. ‘I’m keeping you from going about your business.’
‘You are keeping me from absolutely nothing,’ he said earnestly. ‘I am the one who, with little consideration to the fact that you were going about your duties, came across to talk to you. With hindsight, I realize now that it was remiss of me, but I will admit to finding your company most enjoyable – so unlike that of the young women one ordinarily has occasion to meet – like a breath of fresh air after a stuffy dinner.’
Horrified by the extent to which she was blushing, she ducked her head and scrabbled about in her mind for something to detract from her discomfort. ‘I was just picking some of these for Miss Naomi,’ she said, offering the bunch of blooms towards him. ‘I noticed this morning how the little bar of soap she likes to use is called Sweet Pea, and so I thought to put some on the dressing table for her.’ Oh, good Lord, now she was rambling; now he could be forgiven for thinking her mildly dotty.
‘That’s very thoughtful of you,’ he said, nevertheless. ‘I’m sure she’ll think so, too. By the way, I hope you didn’t get into trouble yesterday – you know, for your part in our little charade.’
Beginning to breathe more normally, she managed a smile. ‘Not too greatly, the trouble I did land in being of my own making.’ When he looked quizzically back at her, she forced herself to explain, ‘By not saying where I was going aforehand.’
‘Ah.’
‘But all is smoothed over now.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. Well then, I shall retreat into the shade until it’s time to go and see what’s for afternoon tea. And then I shall attempt to determine whether any of it would benefit from a dollop of Devon’s finest.’
Unable to help it, she laughed out loud. ‘After yesterday? I wouldn’t have thought you could find room for no more of it. I know I couldn’t.’
‘Oh, I have room for a smidgeon,’ he said, before pressing his hat squarely back onto his head, nodding politely, and setting off in the direction of the house.
When he had left, she stood twirling the stems of her little bunch of sweet peas, watching absently as the pinks and purples swirled into a single, lilac-coloured mass. Fancy him coming over to talk to her! A breath of fresh air, he had likened her to. Perhaps, then, he had deliberately sought her out. In which case, happen it wouldn’t be overly-daft to imagine that he had found himself thinking about her in much the same way that she had been thinking about him. Good gracious: what a joyful state of affairs that would be!
Remembering then the task that had brought her out there, she stooped to pick up the pair of scissors she had dropped to the grass. And then, with a definite feeling that she was being watched – and by someone other than Mr Edwin – she glanced about. Apart from a blackbird scratching about in the leaf mulch, though, everywhere was still. She looked towards the house, but even that showed no obvious signs of movement. It had to be her imagination. Or maybe, just maybe, it was her conscience urging her to think long and hard before letting her feelings run away with her. And definitely before doing anything rash.
* * *
‘Now, darling, tonight, I’ve seated you next to Aubrey.’
It was just before dinner that same day, and Kate had just been putting the final touches to Miss Naomi’s hair when Mrs Russell had entered. Bringing with her a cloud of her heavy scent, she had gone to perch on the window seat.
In response to her mother’s announcement, Naomi groaned. And then, with a conspiratorial look towards Kate and a despairing raising of her eyebrows, she said, ‘Not again, surely, Mamma. I sat next to him only the night before last.’
At the window, Pamela Russell raised the shade that had been lowered against the afternoon sun and stood looking out. Something about her presence always made Kate feel hot and bothered, especially when she was attending to Miss Naomi. This evening was no exception.
‘Ouch!’
‘Sorry, miss,’ Kate apologized for her heavy-handedness with the last pin. ‘But doing it higher up on your head needs more pinning than normal. You know, just to be sure.’
In front of the mirror, Naomi Russell angled her head. ‘I like it. Very stylish. Very elegant.’
‘Thank you, miss.’
‘I’ve put you next to him for a reason,’ Pamela Russell went on, at which both Naomi and Kate turned towards her. ‘Th
is never-ending talk of war has me quite beside myself. We are on holiday, we are supposed to have left such things behind. But apparently, I am the only person who understands that. So,’ she said, turning more fully back into the room, ‘this evening, you are to help me.’
In the mirror, Naomi and Kate exchanged brief glances. ‘Help you how, Mamma?’
‘By being lively and interesting. You’ll have Aubrey to your left – your ally in our little fight-back – and his father to your right. So, until I signal the turn, you’re to spend the first half of the meal distracting Ralph with any subject of your choosing – apart from one that might lead him on to discussing politics, of course – by which time, I will have ensured that his claret glass has been re-filled so often that all thoughts of war will be forgotten. After that, you may talk with Aubrey. For my part, I shall do the same with Anthony Fillingham. And dear Cordelia, who is quite of a mind with me on the matter, will entertain Lawrence. If we women take the initiative and don’t allow our attention to waver, the evening stands a chance of passing in jollier mood.’
With a light shake of her head and a sly smile to Kate, Naomi turned to her mother. ‘But what about Aunt Diana? She crusades for peace even before anyone else has had the chance to mention war, which, as you can’t fail to have noticed, has all the men itching to point out the flaws in her argument.’
‘Let them itch. Diana, since you ask, will be seated next to Ned, whom I have already placed under strict instruction to keep her glass filled, and her conversation on other topics.’
While Pamela Russell paused for breath, there came a sharp rapping sound. And when the door opened swiftly back, it was to reveal Diana Lloyd herself.
‘Darlings, there you are,’ she said, striding in.
Tonight, the garment that Naomi had mistaken for trousers was being worn with a gold-coloured jacket edged with purple. Wrapped across her front and held in place with a matching purple sash, it fell to an asymmetric hemline just above her knees. On her head was her favoured gold turban.
‘Aunt Diana,’ Naomi rose from her stool to greet her aunt. ‘We were just talking about you.’
‘No doubt your mother was warning against allowing me to goad the men with my opinions on this war.’
‘Something like that.’
‘For goodness sake, Diana,’ Pamela Russell rounded on her, while at the same time kissing her on the cheek and fingering the satiny sleeve of her tunic. ‘Very stylish by the way. Poiret, again, is it?’
‘From that same visit to his atelier, yes.’
With a nod of approval, Pamela Russell resumed. ‘Anyway, there won’t be a war. Those who say otherwise are overlooking the fact that Kaiser Wilhelm and our own dear King George are cousins.’
‘And families never fall out, is that what you’re saying, Pamela? That blood is thicker than water, and that family always sticks together, papers over the cracks, no matter what?’
‘Please don’t take that tone with me, Diana. I happen to think that’s how it should be, even if you don’t.’
In the silence that followed, Kate shivered. She never knew how to behave when this sort of thing happened, usually resorting to doing nothing that might draw attention to her presence and make an uncomfortable situation even worse.
‘Mamma,’ Naomi began, taking the opportunity of a lull in her mother’s diatribe. ‘Did you ever meet Lawr— I mean, did you ever meet Aubrey’s grandfather?’
Proceeding to tidy the dressing table, and grateful for the change of subject, Kate smiled at Naomi’s cunning, her interest in Lawrence still firmly a secret.
‘Hector Colborne? I remember being introduced to him the year I came out, but I would hardly say that I knew him, no. Why do you ask?’
‘Oh, only that Lawr— Aubrey was talking of him this afternoon. Apparently, he was the youngest something-or-other to graduate from Sandhurst and be given his own command. Also, Lawrence said that if he’s accepted into his grandfather’s regiment, he might be able to put in a good word for Ned.’
‘Have I just completely wasted my breath! Did you not hear me specifically instruct that this evening, there is to be no talk of war?’
At Mrs Russell’s outburst, Kate slipped to the furthest corner of the room where she busied herself straightening the cushions on the easy chair and then tidying the curtains at the window. Ned was going to join the army? How had that come about? Only a few hours ago, he had suggested to her that he wasn’t in the least hurry to go off and kill people. Now what was she supposed to think? Had he just been placating her? She didn’t think so; his horror at the prospect had seemed entirely genuine.
Across the room, ignoring her mother and taking one last look in the mirror, Naomi simply fixed her usual smile in place and then said, ‘Well, come along, both of you. Enough of that – dinner awaits.’
When the three women had left the room, Kate closed the door quietly behind them and then slumped into the chair. This business of war had her so confused. Ought she not be proud that Luke – and now seemingly, Ned, too – were willing to do their duty? Surely, she should be, especially given how she felt about Mr Aubrey and the squirmy way he seemed to avoid the issue altogether. But she didn’t feel proud at all. That Luke was so eager to go and fight had caught her by surprise; how had she never known that he would be willing to kill someone – albeit an enemy someone? And then there was what she had just heard about Ned. That he should be considering which regiment to join – especially when he had so recently indicated to her that he would rather not – filled her with panic.
Getting up from the chair and feeling utterly lost, she went back to the dressing table. Carefully, she returned to the jewellery-box the three sets of earrings Miss Naomi had chosen not to wear. Then she replaced the string of pearls she had worn that afternoon into its leather pouch. She put the remaining hairpins back into their box and set the brush, comb, and hand-mirror neatly alongside one another on their tray. She gathered up Miss Naomi’s discarded undergarments, put them in a laundry bag, drew the string at the top and dropped it into the basket. Then she cast about the room. She might as well turn down the bed, top up the jug of water on the night-stand and lay out Miss Naomi’s nightdress. She wouldn’t draw the curtains yet, though; the room needed the air, the evening showing all the signs of turning into an unpleasantly sticky night.
With all of that done, and with a heavy sigh, she went to stand in the bay-window and look out over the gardens. Although there were still a couple of hours until sunset, the shadows had begun to lengthen and, from their various hidden perches about the garden, culver birds could be heard cooing sleepily. All told, it was a perfect summer’s evening. Almost a perfect summer’s evening. Come dimpsy on an evening such as this last year, she would have been sneaking out to see Luke and then fending off his advances as they sat laughing in the tallett, or lolling about in the long grasses up at the beacon, choosing names for the children they would one day have. How things had changed. How she had changed. How Luke hadn’t. One year on and while he still wanted all those same things, she didn’t. And, now that she’d started to get to know Ned, she seemed to want them even less.
She looked across at Miss Naomi’s clock. Ned would be at dinner now, either obeying his mother’s command and doing his best to keep his Aunt Diana from discussing political affairs or else ignoring his mother’s instructions altogether. Probably, while yearning to do the latter, he would in fact be doing the former.
Turning away from the window, she caught sight of Miss Naomi’s latest copy of The Lady. It lay opened at a page bearing a drawing of a young woman in a dark uniform and cap, much like her own, except that on the bib of her pinafore was an emblem of a red cross. Staring down at the expression on the illustration’s face, Kate felt a stab of envy: the young woman looked serene and fulfilled. While perhaps not so very different from being a housemaid, she knew that young women who went to become nurses did so because they felt a calling to, not because they had stumbled into it, trudgi
ng without much say up the drive to the big house, directly in the footsteps of their mothers, aunts, and older sisters. Service was something you had no say about being born into – a bit like being born into the gentry – whereas becoming a nurse was something you did by choice.
She lifted the magazine from the side table and examined the picture more closely. When war did come – because now, despite Mrs Russell’s belief in the power of family ties, she was almost certain that it would – perhaps with it would come opportunities. If Luke could join the army – and Ned and Lawrence, and all of the others – and be trained to do something new and useful, might not similar chances arise for her? She didn’t particularly fancy nursing – too much blood and gore and sadness – but there might be something else she could do. Yes, there was a thought. If Luke and Ned had a duty to the realm, didn’t she have one, too?
The idea of doing something fulfilling was an appealing one. The biggest problem she could foresee was how to go about it. Woodicombe was so very far from anywhere sensible. And Ma and Edith would be of no use. Miss Naomi might prove of some help, but, as usual, it seemed that if she was to get anywhere, she would have to rely on her own resourcefulness, something she did at least have by the bucket load.
Heaving a long sigh, she wondered what to do with herself. It was far too early to go to bed as well as far too lovely an evening. So, she would take a short stroll around the grounds, taking care to stay well out of sight of the house and anyone who might challenge what she was doing. And then, once dinner was over, and the guests removed to the drawing room – or perhaps, tonight, out onto the terrace – she would take a circuitous route back and see whether a glimpse of Ned was to be had. Then, in the morning and with a clear head, she would give proper thought about how to further her idea and turn it into a proper plan. Howsoever she decided to go about it, she would do so in secret. She wouldn’t even tell Miss Naomi yet – just in case. But, if a suitable occasion arose, she might tell Ned, who might even have some advice to offer.