Feeling very sick by now, Vere knew Fate had made her move. ‘Your cousin survived?’
‘Oh, yes. The Audleys of this world will always survive. He charged the commissioned ranker with disarming him, kicking the weapon to the Boer woman, then running off leaving her to do what he had threatened to do on several occasions. There were no witnesses and Audley threw in additional charges of insubordination and physical assault. They were both court martialled, of course; Audley a month later due to his wound. You may guess whose story was officially believed. My cousin declared that he had been shot before being able to conceal the orders for Colonel Beecham, this despite the subsequent inference that the woman stripped him after he fell to the ground. Is it likely that she would delay long enough to struggle to remove a uniform holed and covered in blood, when speed of getaway was the essence? The court failed to prove otherwise and, as the orders were merely routine rulings on stores which were of no use to the enemy the findings were inconclusive. Audley’s credibility was severely blackened, however, and Beecham gratefully accepted his resignation on the day after the trial ended.’
‘And what of the other fellow?’ asked Vere through the tightness in his throat.
‘Havelock, the scapegoat? A death sentence was remitted to cashiering. The poor devil was treated to an old tradition whereby the guilty man is marched before the entire regiment, stripped of his rank, then obliged to walk along the parade whereupon squadron after squadron turn their backs in contempt. Typical cavalry!’ he concluded in disgust. ‘Time they brought themselves out of the dark ages and abandoned such practices. Especially when there’s a war waiting to be finished off.’
There was a moment’s intense silence before Sir Gilliard spoke. ‘Which regiment did you say?’
‘The Fifty-seventh Lancers, sir. Good regiment; indifferent officers.’
‘And the guilty man’s name?’
‘Havelock.’ Sensing an atmosphere, Edward asked, ‘Not a friend of the president of the court, are you, sir?’ Sir Gilliard turned and walked away through the door leading to his library without another word. Edward looked at Vere in concern. ‘I say, have I offended the old boy in some way?’
Smitten by the thought of his vital, eager young brother being submitted to total military humiliation, aghast at the implications of Val’s scintillating career coming to such an end, Vere knew he must act swiftly. With his eyes still on the closed library door, he murmured, ‘Go and join the others, will you? I’ll join you later.’
He expected to find Sir Gilliard bowed and broken. He should have known better. The old general was snapping pencils and throwing them in the fire as if each was a knife to the heart of his enemy. He spoke without turning. ‘Once a villain always a villain. That boy is lacking in honour, integrity, truthfulness and every other quality which graces gentlemen. I long ago predicted that he would destroy himself, and now he has.’
‘You heard Pickering, sir,’ Vere countered heatedly. ‘His cousin is the villain you’ve just described, not Val. Whatever the truth of the affair at Chartfield, he has more than proved his worth in the Fifty-seventh.’
‘Pah!’ was the contemptuous exclamation.
Vere strode round to stand beside him. ‘Have you ever lived in a sweltering, smelly barrack-room with the rough mix of men who enlist, and made them all your friends and champions? Has any Ashleigh? He has, and become a better man for it. Have you worn sergeant’s stripes and taken orders from a pipsqueak with royal connections who punishes you for his own lack of ability? Has any Ashleigh? Val has, and survived victorious. Did you earn your commission before you gained it? Did any Ashleigh? My brother did. How dare you say he has no honour or integrity!’
Sir Gilliard swung round, his face working. ‘And how dare you adopt that tone with me?
‘Because you drive me to.’
‘Then I’ll drive you further, sir. I’ll not have his name mentioned within this house ever again, and he will not enter it. Don’t imagine the likes of him will do the decent thing with a pistol against his temple. He’ll come slinking home to lick his wounds in safety. The door will be shut in his face, d’you hear? This family will no longer acknowledge him, here or anywhere. His name will be expunged from all records connected with the Ashleighs.’ His voice rose to the intimidating roar known to many. ‘All monies and property due to him on my death will be willed elsewhere. I shall wipe him from family documents so that he can never inherit a square inch of land, a cowshed or one penny of Knightshill’s estate and income.’
‘You can’t do that,’ cried Vere with rising fury. ‘He’s my heir.’
‘Oh, is he? You are not yet the owner of all this, and I shall ensure that you get it with the proviso that you cannot pass it on to any other son of Roland Ashleigh.’
‘But he’s legally next in line.’
‘Not after I’ve seen Simms tomorrow. There is a clause which allows the head of the family to exclude any of his direct line from inheriting.’ He poked his face forward to emphasize his next point. ‘It has never been used until now.’
Still stunned by what had developed, Vere raged, ‘I won’t allow you to do that.’
‘Ha! You cannot stop me, sir.’
‘I can never have a son to succeed me. You know that.’
‘That has never been my fault,’ Sir Gilliard said in ringing tones. ‘You will have to hand over everything to that red-headed child.’
‘The son of a diamond prospector! That’s out of the question.’
‘Then you have no choice but to take a different wife who will give you a boy of your own.’
Vere lost the last remnants of his temper then. ‘You have always considered me unfit to head this family, but I would defend each member of it with my last breath. All you have ever done is condemn them.’
‘Because they are all weak and selfish, including you.’
‘We are all the children of your son. You condemn him too?’
‘He was a man of honour.’
‘And passed none of that honour to his sons?’ Vere demanded in wrought up tones. ‘Val inherited all Father’s qualities, and most of yours, including obstinacy and the inability to suffer those who don’t live up to the highest of standards. It has ended in tragedy for him, but that in no way makes him a candidate for your blind injustice.’
Sir Gilliard gave him a withering look. ‘Get out before I decide to give Knightshill to one of the stable-lads.’ He brought his fist crashing down on to the table, and roared, ‘I will not own him! There was only one of you fit to succeed me and he lies in a hero’s grave at Metemma.’
‘No, he doesn’t!’ Vere snapped, knowing the truth must now be told. ‘The grave had been desecrated. When I went to Metemma it was impossible to distinguish my brother’s bones from the others scattered there.’ The effect this had on his grandfather should have silenced him, but the anger of years, the effort of keeping to himself what he knew whenever Vorne Ashleigh’s name was revered led Vere to smash a legend with short, savage sentences.
‘I followed in my brother’s footsteps all the way to Khartoum. I learned what kind of man he really was. I settled his staggering debts in each place we stopped. I bought off the Egyptian who produced a boy who, but for the lack of a marriage certificate, is your true heir. Perhaps you’d like me to fetch him from the brothel he serves and bring him to Knightshill.’
As he continued, his tone grew more and more bitter. ‘Your “hero” was a licentious, drunken liar. He was also a coward!’ His hand shook slightly as he pointed in the direction of the room they had just left. ‘That painting showing his last courageous moments is fantasy. In Omdurman’s cells I came across a man who was in Khartoum with Gordon. He told me of the British officer who got away just before it was overrun. He had openly declared that he had no intention of staying with a white madman determined to be a martyr, only to be killed by a black madman determined to be a god. That communiqué was a ruse to allow him to save his skin. The real prize he carried wa
s a priceless family scarab entrusted to him by the Egyptian I encountered in Omdurman, who was persuaded by this enterprising officer also to part with a large sum which would be of no further use to him with the Mahdi’s fanatics at the gates of Khartoum.’
The pent up anger of years welled up as Vere said, ‘Vorne Ashleigh was killed for that jewelled scarab and the money he carried. He knew before he left Khartoum that it was far too late for any communiqué to summon help. The stronghold was already irrevocably doomed when he arrived there, and he was not man enough to stay and help defend it.’ Fighting for control, he added, ‘That is the man you have held up as an example to us for almost seventeen years. That is the man I was once ready to die to emulate. That is the man for whom young Val has ruined his life trying to match. Thank God your “perfect heir” did not live beyond the age of twenty-four. Heartbreak would have sent you to your grave long ago.’
Shaking with a depth of anger he had never before experienced, Vere walked away. At the door he turned back. ‘I’ve kept that shocking secret for three years out of respect for you … which is something you appear never to have had for any of us. If you rob my brother of his rightful inheritance, I shall take my family to live on the ranch in America which our mother has just willed to us … and you may do whatever you wish with Knightshill.’
*
General Sir Gilliard Ashleigh died sometime during that evening. His loyal batman, Clunes, broke down and cried as Winters told Vere how he had found the grand old man in the library when he went in to check on the fire. Having struggled to behave normally before his family and friends after leaving his grandfather, Vere did all he had to do in a state of deep shock. By the time the doctor left it was two a.m. Knowing that only Edward and his fiancée might be able to sleep, Vere went to his sister’s rooms and asked her and John to come along to his own because he wished to tell them something he could not keep until morning.
Kitty was sitting in a woollen wrapper waiting for him. She looked up with concern, then rose to pour him a glass of brandy. ‘Drink this, my dear. You must need it.’ Taking Charlotte’s arm, she added, ‘I suppose it’s useless to suggest that you have a little brandy too. Tea, then?’
‘John and I have consumed more than enough in the past two hours,’ she replied dully. ‘I still find this difficult to believe. He had been so much livelier recently, and was in fine fettle at the dinner-table with Edward to regale with his favourite stories. It’s …’ She grew choked. ‘It’s the end of an era, much as when the Queen died. Knightshill will never be the same again.’
Somewhat revived by the brandy, Vere asked them all to sit down around the fire then embarked on what he had to say. ‘I am afraid I am responsible for what has happened tonight. I killed Grandfather.’
‘What?’ cried Charlotte.
John took her hand in comfort. ‘What exactly do you mean, Vere?’
‘I caused him to die by dealing him a blow from which I knew in my heart he would never recover.’
Kitty went to him immediately. ‘You’re overwrought, darling. Of course you didn’t cause his death.’
He gazed into her puzzled eyes, and sighed. ‘I accept full responsibility for it. When you have heard all I have to say, you’ll understand that I had no choice but to do what I did.’ He walked with her to the settee and settled her on it. Then he took the place beside her and tugged off his bow tie to loosen the tight collar. After a moment of silence, he said, ‘I have two very unpleasant things to tell you. One concerns Val. The other … He sighed again. ‘The other is something I have kept to myself for three years. It must now come into the open between us.’
John spoke up swiftly. ‘If this is a family affair I should not be here.’
‘You are part of the Ashleigh family now, man. All I ask is that what I say will not be repeated to anyone. Margaret and Val will have to know eventually, of course.’
‘You sound so very serious,’ said Charlotte. ‘What has happened to Val?’
‘Is he all right?’ asked Kitty quietly.
‘I … I don’t know. That’s the worst part of this wretched business,’ Vere told them. ‘He has suffered most from Grandfather’s impossible demands. I just could not stand by in silence while he was vilified yet again. He is my only brother, and all he has ever wanted is to make the old man proud of him. We all know the heroic legend celebrated each January with stirring reverence. That boy was steeped in it from his infant years. My own failure to fulfil the military role demanded of me put on Val the mammoth burden of compensating for both his older brothers. Only someone as splendid as he would ever try.’
Kitty put her hand over his at that point. ‘Just tell us what happened this evening.’
He glanced round at her and knew that, at this moment, she was the stronger. ‘Edward Pickering is the cousin of an officer in Val’s regiment who is a totally useless soldier, but related to minor royalty,’ he told them all. ‘Audley Pickering and Val hated each other on sight, for reasons you’ll guess. Pickering used his rank to mount a campaign of persecution against Trooper Havelock which continued until he was commissioned. Knowing Val, you’ll not be surprised to learn that the lad was determined on revenge, and said so on several occasions.’ He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. ‘Edward, not guessing that Martin Havelock was even known to us, tonight related details of an affair at a Boer farm which resulted in a double court martial for his cousin and this fellow Havelock.’ He linked his hands between his knees and stared at the floor for a moment or two. ‘Val was apparently accused by the other of insubordination, violent assault, and being the cause of his being shot and robbed of sealed military orders. Pickering was believed and cleared, but immediately resigned.’ He glanced up at Charlotte. ‘Val was found guilty on all counts and given a death sentence, which was commuted to cashiering. He was apparently submitted to public humiliation before the entire regiment.’ He swallowed hard. ‘God knows what that did to him.’
‘How terrible!’ Charlotte cried.
‘It’s the way the army is run. Honour is a hard-won prize in such communities.’
‘That poor boy!’ said Kitty softly. ‘It’ll break him. Sir Gilliard heard all this, of course.’
Vere related almost word for word his grandfather’s reaction to this news, then said, ‘I learned something in the Sudan which I had kept to myself because I knew it would break the old man’s heart. Tonight, love for my family overrode any other consideration and I broke my silence. May God forgive me, but I could no longer have that false hero revered while Val was cursed and deprived of all he had struggled so hard to honour.’ He looked around at their strained faces, then spoke bluntly. ‘Vorne Ashleigh travelled from Cairo to Metemma leaving behind a trail of enormous debts, betrayal of trust and friendships, and at least one son: a handsome half-Egyptian with vivid blue eyes which made him especially attractive. His mother showed me my brother’s coin purse with the initials V.E.R.A. Remember how he used to say Mama must have wanted a girl, Lottie?’
Charlotte had grown even paler and her large eyes gazed at him in continuing shock. She gave the faintest of nods.
‘I paid the boy’s villainous grandfather a considerable sum of money for his education, and so on, but I doubt if he used it for that purpose. The Sudan is a corrupt, harsh area. Its people continually fight for survival.’ No longer able to sit still, Vere got up and walked to the decanter for some brandy. From the sideboard he added what he found the most difficult to say. ‘In Omdurman I met a man who told me a terrible tale. I’m afraid I have every reason to believe it. Vorne persuaded General Gordon to send him with a communiqué only as a means of leaving Khartoum before it was overrun. He knew rescue was impossible and wanted to save his own skin. His two native companions killed him for the jewelled scarab and money entrusted to him by an Egyptian whose last wish was to get it to his son in Cairo; a mission I am certain my brother had no intention of completing. There was no heroic, agonizing crawl across desert sands with the vital
communiqué for the relief force. It was three days’ journey away, and the Mahdi’s horde was already at Khartoum’s gates.’ He tossed back the brandy, then stared into the empty glass, seeing again that group of haggard, bearded men who had suffered in Omdurman’s prison for thirteen years. ‘We have each January given a toast to a coward and a libertine.’
Charlotte began to cry and John put his arm around her, saying, ‘There, there, lass. Tears are better shed than stored.’
Vere felt totally drained as he continued to stare into the past and recall his long, long ride beside the Nile, while Kitchener and his officers conducted a memorial service for those who had been massacred at Khartoum.
Kitty arrived beside him to take his hands. ‘Your rosy glass has turned dark, Vere.’
He looked at her through aching, blurred eyes. ‘I shall have to live with the knowledge that I killed a proud, courageous, old man whose only weakness was an inability to allow others the right to follow his example and be masters of themselves.’ He gripped her hands tightly. ‘You approved of my silence on the subject when I told you about Vorne. Was I right to break it tonight?’
‘Of course, my dear,’ she agreed softly. ‘You have withstood so many contemptuous personal comparisons with someone you know to be worthless, and would have continued to do so, I know. Only because it was Val being vilified in the “hero’s” name did you speak out. You had no choice but to defend one brother against another.’
He studied the face that was dearer to him than any other in the world and knew the glass would one day become rosy again. ‘I have to go back to South Africa to find him … or a headstone bearing his name somewhere on the veld.’
*
Dunstan St Mary seemed immune to change. Now the war in South Africa was over, and young men who had volunteered to go out there and fight had returned, the farming community resumed its old ways in this year of 1903. The motorcar was growing in popularity in towns, despite mass protests from cab drivers concerning horses frightened by the noise and speed of the machines. They were rarer in villages and one had not yet been seen in Dunstan. Airships were being developed by rival manufacturers in the race to build the fastest, most manoeuvrable, flying balloon. There had been a brief sighting of one over Wiltshire, and Simon had been so excited by it he studied everything he could find concerning the massive, silent, gas-filled skins. He was now at Chartfield after Vere coaxed Dr Keening to take his stepson, even though he was not an Ashleigh. The school still displayed Vorne’s name on the roll of honour, together with an account of his heroism which had earned him a posthumous D.S.O. The truth was jealously guarded by a family which had discontinued the annual Khartoum Dinner after Sir Gilliard’s death.
A Distant Hero Page 41