Charles got up and went over to his daughter, pulled her to her feet and put his arms around her, held her close. “I’m all right, you know. It was a bit of a shock, but I’ve accepted it. Come along, darling, stop weeping and sit down here with me on the sofa.”
She did as he asked. He took hold of her hand, and said in a steady voice, “We’ve had some good years together, your mother and I, but sometimes people change. And I think she has. At least in the way she feels about me. Putting it simply, she just doesn’t want to be with me, not in any way. I didn’t put up a fight, or try to dissuade her from leaving me, because she did change after Dulcie was born, and I’ve known that for a long time.”
“In what way?”
“Her feelings for me changed, she … cooled, I think is the best way of putting it,” Charles said very quietly.
“Maybe her exhaustion and dealing with Aunt Anne affected her in some way,” Daphne ventured. What a fool her mother was to leave in the way she had.
“I considered that, Daphne, but the change in Felicity happened long before your aunt became ill with cancer.”
Daphne looked at him intently. “What you’re saying is that this … separation might have been a long time coming.”
“Yes. A year after Dulcie was born there was a difference, but I ignored it, turned a blind eye. Which I now believe was foolish on my part.”
“Do you think, I mean, could there be … another man?”
Charles laughed again. “I don’t think so, but I don’t know, to be honest.”
Daphne took a deep breath, and plunged in. “Well, I know one thing, you don’t have another woman, Papa. Do you?”
He shook his head, and said in a serious tone, “You’re correct there, Daphne. I’ve never been unfaithful to your mother, never strayed. And you mustn’t worry about this situation, or be concerned about me. I’m feeling fine now. I must admit, I was rather shaken up at first. But I’m calm, and it’s best for us to live apart than be at loggerheads.”
“I’m here to help you any way I can, Papa.” Daphne hesitated for a moment before asking, “What are you going to do?”
“Nothing. I’m going to let sleeping dogs lie, as they say. I’ve no reason to get a divorce. Unless your mother wants one, that is. I’ve a lot to do on the estate, and if there is a war I will have my hands full. War changes everything.”
Fifty
Two weeks later Charles remembered those words he had uttered to his daughter, and he repeated them to Charlotte Swann on August 5, 1914.
“War changes everything,” he said. “And it changes everyone as well. The world becomes a different place.”
“We’ve expected it for such a long time, and now it’s finally here,” she remarked in disbelief, shaking her head. “I never really thought it would happen, though. I was positive it would go away.”
The two of them were in the library at Cavendon. A variety of newspapers were piled up on the floor near the Chesterfield; the night before, on Tuesday, August 4, Britain had declared war on Germany, because that country had invaded neutral Belgium.
“The German attack was unprovoked,” Charles explained to her. “And it tipped the balance in our government. We are part of the Triple Entente with France and Russia, and this agreement was made in order to provide mutual defense of each other, if a war with Germany came. Also, Britain and the other great powers pledged to guarantee Belgian neutrality. So that’s the reason we’re now in it.”
“Do you think it will be a long war?” Charlotte asked.
“I’m afraid so. Adam Fairley confirmed that to me last night, when he telephoned to tell me about the declaration of war. It was late when we spoke, past midnight, and the paper had just gone to press. He always keeps me posted these days.”
“So you knew before you read it in The Gazette this morning?”
“I did, yes. In a funny way, it came as a relief to finally know. At least we are now able to look at our options, and do our job, do our best. Much better than being in limbo, in the dark, worrying. Incidentally, our government really did have to take us in, I see that very clearly now. We cannot afford to let the Germans capture Belgium’s Channel ports. We will be at a strategic disadvantage if that happens.” Charles sat back. “I trust Churchill and Asquith,” he added, not wanting to appear too gloomy.
“Are we in for a long siege, Charles?” Charlotte sat twisting her hands in her lap, aware that hordes of young men would be leaving to fight. It was always the young who rushed to the front because of their youth, their strength, their fortitude, and their enthusiasm. Unfortunately, war excited them.
Charles had been thoughtful for a few moments, and finally he answered her question. “This is going to be a big war, Charlotte. Other countries are already in it, and yes, I see it lasting a year at least.”
“So long?” She sounded surprised.
He nodded. “Germany has amassed an enormous amount of armaments. They will be able to fight on for months and months.” He shook his head, and rose. “Let’s go and tour the West and North Wings, shall we? That’s why you came up this morning. Those wings are the ones we will have to transform. We must be ready to start operating when the government asks us to take in wounded troops. And they will, there’s no doubt in my mind of that.”
* * *
By Thursday, the sixth of August, Austria-Hungary had declared war on Russia. On the twelfth of the month France and Britain went to war with Austria-Hungary, since they were allied to Russia in the Triple Entente. As Charles had predicted, it was going to be a big war, a great war, and some people would say that it was the war to end all wars. But was it? Charles had his doubts about that.
Across the country, in cities, towns, and little villages, government posters went up, were pasted to lampposts, trees, walls, and doors. Anywhere there was enough space for one, in fact.
YOUR COUNTRY NEEDS YOU they read, and men responded, just as they had responded to Lord Kitchener’s request for volunteers. One hundred thousand men joined the army after his first appeal.
Kitchener had been made Secretary of State for War, and there was much relief everywhere that he had taken on this arduous job. He was not only a great war hero, but a legend.
The posters appeared in the three Ingham villages in the Dales, and recruitment offices opened all over Yorkshire and the rest of the country.
Wherever Charles went, his people asked him questions and wanted to know about the war, what it would mean to them, and what they should do to help.
“I think I had better call a meeting at the church hall in Little Skell,” he said to Hugo and Daphne one afternoon in the middle of August.
“For this coming Friday. I must also include the villagers from Mowbray and High Clough. And all of the outside workers on the estate. I do think it’s important that I speak to them, answer their questions. The women must come, if they wish. They have as much right as their husbands to hear everything I have to say.”
Daphne and Hugo agreed with him, and Daphne said, “Don’t you think you should speak with the indoor staff at Cavendon also, Papa? Perhaps just before dinner tonight.”
“Good thought, Daphne,” her father answered. After a moment’s reflection, he went on, “I believe it is vital we go to meet our villagers as the Ingham family. So we must take the children, including Alicia, in the care of Nurse Willis, and Dulcie with Nanny Clarice. By the way, she’s turned out well, hasn’t she, Daphne?”
Daphne nodded, and then broke into laughter. “She never takes her eyes off Dulcie. Fortunately, Dulcie fell in love with her at once. They get on like a house on fire because Nanny Clarice treats her as an adult. She asks her opinion about her clothes, and what she would like to wear, and many other things as well. In that quarter, we’re doing well, Papa.”
Hugo asked, “Are you going to ask Felicity to come to Yorkshire to join us for this event?”
“No. I don’t think she would be interested, Hugo,” Charles answered. “I understand from Di
edre the countess has been feeling exhausted lately. As for Diedre, I think she prefers her life in Mayfair. She certainly wouldn’t want to be here, I can assure you of that.”
When Lady Gwendolyn heard about the impending meeting at Little Skell church hall, she immediately told Charles she would love to come with them, would be offended if she was left out, in fact.
“After all, I am the oldest Ingham,” she reminded her nephew. Charles agreed it was most important that she was there, being the great Ingham matriarch that she was.
“Well, Papa, we’re quite a group as a family,” Daphne said to him as they stood together on the terrace on Friday afternoon, as everyone assembled.
Alongside them were Hugo, and Guy, who had not yet returned to Oxford. Lady Gwendolyn was seated in a chair and Nanny Clarice was holding Dulcie’s hand. DeLacy, and Miles, still at home from Eton, were standing on the garden path below the terrace with Nurse Willis and Alicia. The baby was sitting up in her Silver Cross perambulator and looked beautiful.
“She is going to be the hit of the show,” Miles said, grinning at Nurse Willis.
* * *
The Ingham family walked through the park, heading for the village of Little Skell. Nurse Willis, pushing Alicia in the pram, was the leader, along with Nanny Clarice and Dulcie, walking hand in hand. This amused Charles. As usual, Dulcie had to be the first, no matter what.
He followed behind them with Hugo, Lady Gwendolyn, Daphne, DeLacy, Guy, and Miles. As he glanced at his family, he felt a little surge of pride. They were, each one of them, individuals in their own right, confident and secure and well behaved. Not to mention good-looking.
When they reached the church hall, a bevy of Swanns was there to greet them: Charlotte, Alice, Cecily, and Harry, with their father, Walter, who had been given permission to be present by Charles.
Percy was there with his wife, Edna, and their thirteen-year-old son, Joe, who was a junior woodsman, and Percy’s nephew, Bill, head landscape gardener at Cavendon at twenty-eight.
There was a lot of cheering and clapping as the Inghams trooped into the church hall. Once things had calmed down, Charles went and stood in front of his villagers and spoke to them in his usual well-modulated voice, his charisma holding them spellbound.
“I’ve come here with my family to speak to you about the war. Unfortunately, the countess is in London and was unable to join us today, but she sends her best wishes, as does our daughter Lady Diedre, who is also away.
“I believe all of us here today know what we must do, and that is to support our country in its hour of greatest need. That is what we of the three Ingham villages are going to do most wholeheartedly, as we have done in other times of strife and trouble in our land.
“I know Lord Kitchener has raised an army of one hundred thousand men, who will be shipping out soon to fight in the fields of Flanders. The army is still requesting men from the ages of eighteen to thirty to volunteer. Single men at the moment. And those who feel they must go to the front must do so.
“I am not going to tell anyone what they can or cannot do, because this is a free country. We make our own choices as Englishmen. What I do ask is that married men consider their options. It might be wise to wait until married men are called to duty, because of their family responsibilities.
“I must explain something to you. I am converting two wings of Cavendon Hall into hospital wards. We have been alerted that the government might need beds for our wounded troops coming back from the front. I would like to ask any of you who have nursing or medical skills to volunteer now, to help with the wounded later. Miss Charlotte is starting a list today to hold in reserve.
“There might be rationing of food, since we won’t be able to import. That is why I am relying on our tenant farmers to keep tilling the land.
“I will end by saying that we are in this great fight together. We will stand together shoulder to shoulder, to bring victory to our country. And we shall prevail. Now Miss Mayhew will play the national anthem, and then refreshments will be served.”
There was clapping and cheering and then Miss Viola Mayhew, the church organist, began to thump the piano in one corner of the hall, and the voices of the villagers rang to the rafters as they began to sing:
“God save our gracious king, long live our noble king, God save the king. Send him victorious, happy and glorious, long may he reign over us, God save the king.”
When the national anthem finally finished, many of the men came to speak with their earl, asking crucial questions about the war, earnestly seeking his advice.
As usual, Charles Ingham, the Sixth Earl of Mowbray, listened attentively, and answered them all with graciousness, respect, and kindness, which was his way.
And the women of the three villages flocked around the women of Cavendon Hall, and especially the children, and as Miles had predicted, baby Alicia, in her Silver Cross pram, was indeed the star of the show.
* * *
By August 20 the first four divisions of the British Expeditionary Force had crossed the English Channel, and by early September the fifth and sixth divisions had followed.
Not a ship was sunk, not a life was lost. It was called a triumph for Winston Churchill, brilliant leader and militant trustee of the British Royal Navy.
Great Britain mobilized for war with ferocity and enormous speed. Every citizen was affected in some way or other as the grim days sped on, and on, and on. Endless days which seemed without hope.
The guns which had started to roar in August went on roaring through the following months and into the new year. Suddenly it was 1915 and success was nowhere in sight.
Hundreds of thousands of young men had died on the blood-soaked fields of Belgium and France. And as the dead piled up, the wounded were being shipped home to Britain, the country they loved and had fought for so bravely.
Part Four
RIVER OF BLOOD
May 1916–November 1918
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he today who sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother.
—William Shakespeare
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England’s, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laugher, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
—Rupert Brooke
Fifty-one
Daphne sat at her desk in the conservatory, making the work sheet for the coming week. She glanced at her daily engagement book: Today was Sunday, May 28, 1916.
Nineteen sixteen, she said under her breath, wondering what had happened to time. It had passed so quickly, she was momentarily startled.
Her eye caught the photograph of Guy and Miles in the silver frame, the two of them looking so grown-up and handsome. Hugo had taken it last summer on the terrace. Miles was still at Eton, but Guy was at the front, fighting in France with the Seaforth Highlanders, a regiment favored by many Yorkshire men.
She sat back in her chair and closed her eyes, thinking of her brother, and saying a silent prayer for his safety. She did this every morning and every night, as she knew her father did. He had not wanted Guy to join up, but her eldest brother had explained to their father why he must go.
Like all of the Inghams, he was patriotic, loved his country, and was proud of his heritage. Their father had finally given in.
But Daphne
realized her father had not had any alternative. Guy was of age and could do as he wished. They all worried about Guy. The news from the front line was horrific, seemed to grow worse every day. Thousands upon thousands of young men had been slaughtered. And as the dead piled up on foreign fields, the wounded were brought home to be treated and healed.
The two wings at Cavendon were now filled. Once the war had started in 1914, her father had immediately converted the North and West Wings.
All of the antiques, paintings, and precious objects had been taken up to the attics to be stored, and extra beds were moved in. Her father had, in the end, had to buy additional beds so that the largest possible number of wounded soldiers could be accommodated.
The entire staff at Cavendon had pitched in, in order to turn those beautiful eighteenth-century rooms into hospital wards.
Once the wounded had started to arrive, the women from the villages had come to help, as had all of the Swann women, and she herself. DeLacy and Cecily also did their bit in different ways.
It was a joint effort, and it was working well. Dr. Shawcross supervised everything, and came to Cavendon every day. Her father had hired several matrons to run the wards, as well as professional nursing staff, and doctors. He had also purchased all of the equipment needed to make the wings as efficient as possible.
Her father was a wonder. He was managing the estate as best he could; this was a difficult task, since so many men had left the three villages to go and fight the enemy. But their wives had taken over, many with great skill, and the tenant farms continued to run.
Teenage boys, too young to go to war, helped out, and so did teenage girls and young women. Daphne was constantly amazed how everyone pulled together to properly ensure that things continued as normally as possible.
Eventually Daphne finished her list, and read through it one more time. Today she was off, and would be able to have lunch with her father and Hugo. It would be just the three of them because DeLacy was on duty in the other wings. As was Cecily.
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