‘Cardigan’s courage was not at fault,’ pointed out Lovelace. ‘Valour is a necessary thing in a leader.’
‘His bravery comes from the same source as his blind and misplaced idea that he is a good officer – his empty-headedness. He has not the intelligence to see the dangers to himself and others. Lord Cardigan, begging your pardon, sir, is like a mad bull charging around a Spanish bullring.’
‘Oh, come, sergeant. All valour requires a little empty-headedness, even temporary. No man is going to rush at the barrel of a loaded cannon if he stops to think about it.’
‘I still blame the purchase system, as it stands, for the unfairness to the individual. Sir, you know as well as I do that there are set rates for purchasing the various commissioned ranks, yet these are rarely adhered to. I believe it costs five thousand pounds to become the lieutenant-colonel of a cavalry regiment, yet many will pay five times that amount for the privilege of such a command, thus sweeping aside all those officers who are constrained from further advancement because of a lack of wealth.’
Rupert Jarrard could contain himself no longer.
‘I agree with Jack, Major Lovelace. The British system of purchasing commissions is ridiculed throughout the world. It is a system of privilege for no particular purpose. It’s sad – and it’s laughable.’
To the American’s astonishment, both men stared at him as if he had made the most stupid statement of all time. It was Crossman who saw fit to put him right.
‘Rupert, you have misunderstood me if you believe that I said the purchase system was for no purpose. It has a very good purpose, a high and laudable one, which works well. It has helped in preventing military revolution in Britain for hundreds of years, and with no apparent harm to our skill as a fighting force. We have won many battles, many wars, many famous victories, with the purchase system in place.’
Jarrard looked smug. ‘You didn’t beat us when we fought for independence.’
‘No, but then we were heavily outnumbered, you had the French Army to help you, and we had more important commitments for our forces elsewhere in the empire. There is a myth about there being a few rugged frontiersmen protecting their rights against the whole British Army. Of redcoats marching in straight lines to be cut down by grizzled sharpshooters from the backwoods of the American continent. Balderdash, Rupert.’
Rupert grinned. ‘It’s a myth we like to perpetuate, none the less. Anyway, it was a victory. You lost, despite your assertion that you were outnumbered. You’ve been outnumbered in other wars, but you’ve won them. This was not a British victory, Jack – you lost.’
Major Lovelace came in here. ‘On the contrary, it was a famous British victory.’
‘How do you make that out, Major Lovelace?’
‘British settlers asserting their rights over George III, a German king.’
Rupert grinned again. ‘I seem to have heard that one before – you lost – sorry. End of tale. Anyway, what’s all this poppycock about the purchase system being good for Britain? Even if it doesn’t damage your ability as a fighting force, that’s a load of hogwash, isn’t it?’
‘Not at all,’ replied Lovelace. ‘Not even a trace of pigdip in it. The purchase system is seen as necessary to the safety of the nation as a whole. It ensures that those in the highest ranks of the army will have a large stake in the country and will have nothing to gain through revolt against a civilian government by trying to form a military regime.
‘Aristocrats and landed gentry, the most wealthy of Britons, have the most to lose by reverting to a military dictatorship. Under such lawless conditions their lands might be forfeit to the greater cause, that of a military regime which needs money to fight its wars. You only have to look at other European countries which do not have the purchase system, and you will find they have had military regimes at one time or another. France and Austria are two examples.
‘Military adventurers like Napoleon will milk a country dry without a care. There is never enough power for them, so they build huge armies and seek more, and even more. There is never enough money in a country to sustain such constant conflict. Napoleon was a poor man, who had nothing to lose. In Britain your earls, lords and barons are already rich, and their estates would suffer if the country were plunged into economic disaster. No, the system has worked well for the country as a whole, Mr Jarrard. It ensures economic stability. Individuals may suffer, but the nation is protected against military opportunists.’
Jarrard acknowledged he had no answer to that one.
Lovelace, however, was a little piqued that the American had come in when he did, for the reason that he, Lovelace, was no nearer to discovering Sergeant Crossman’s secrets than before.
16
Crossman had now to try to help with his brother’s gambling problems. It was difficult since he did not want his brother to know he was there, serving as a sergeant in an infantry regiment under an assumed name. Knowing James, the older man would not be able to keep Crossman’s presence a secret from their father, Major Kirk, also serving in the 93rd Sutherland Highlanders. So Crossman had to tread warily, work from the wings.
Sitting up late at night in the hovel, the candlelight flickering on the rough white walls, he devised a two-point plan. The first thing to do, he decided, was to break James’s gambling habit somehow, then deal with the debt to Captain Campbell later. James had an obsessive personality. Once he was consumed with some interest, he thought of nothing else.
Crossman remembered when they had been children. James had been a collector. At one time, he collected birds’ eggs, at another time, minerals and rocks, then seashells, then fossils, and when he was older it was grown-up things like snuff boxes or porcelain figurines.
However, he was never interested in two things at one time. When it was birds’ eggs you could have showered him with seashells or minerals or fossils and he would have scorned you and gone back to his preoccupation of the time. James’s mind ran on a single track, and the habit had to be broken naturally, through time and a waning interest, or some dramatic change.
Crossman sat for a long time, with his soldiers snoring and grunting in their sleep, each one tucked in a separate corner of the room. Finally, as the dawn rays came through the window, he had the kernel of an idea in his mind. It was a very loose idea and he was not at all sure it would work, simply because it involved the chemistry of human beings and their emotions.
He deduced that here, in the Crimea, men were generally starved of affection and the company of ladies. In such circumstances many men would go out of their way just to speak to a woman. They went to the French canteens to gaze passionately at some cantinière, who was not particularly good-looking in any way, but who represented the softer side of humanity of which the men were deprived and desperately missed. The officers were no different from the ranking soldiers.
Crossman decided that if he could get his brother interested in a woman, James would forget about gambling. There was a woman available, who might be interested in a flirtation with a young and handsome lieutenant. Crossman decided to go now, while the day was young, and intercept the one woman who could help him. He knew she rode out in the early morning on Bob, her favourite horse, and always passed a certain dead tree. The sergeant left the hovel to meet her there.
Sure enough, at a certain time, Lavinia Durham came cantering past the spot where Crossman waited.
‘Hello,’ he called, his heart in his mouth. ‘Mrs Durham – Lavinia – how pleasant to see you!’
A surprised Mrs Durham reined in Bob and stared. A slow smile crept across her face. Then with a haughty but amused air about her, she trotted Bob to where Crossman stood. He shifted his feet awkwardly, knowing this meeting was going to be a difficult one for him. Lavinia always seemed to take odd situations in her stride. She might be at a loss for two seconds, but soon had herself and others under control.
‘Why, Sergeant Crossman, my former lover!’
He coughed and looked about him nervou
sly.
‘I don’t think you should be quite so free with that information, Lavinia.’
‘There’s no one here,’ she replied, laughing gaily. ‘Who do you think will hear? The birds? The animals in the grasses? I make no secret of my past to them, I can assure you. I commune with nature every day on my ride. I tell all those hidden listening ears my secrets.’
‘All – all that is in the past, Lavinia. We must forget about it.’
‘You can’t have forgotten about it so soon, Alexander,’ she said, using his real name. ‘Why it was only two weeks ago . . .’
‘Yes, but we agreed to – to put all that behind us, Lavinia,’ he said, getting angry despite himself. ‘You must keep your promises to me.’
‘Just as you kept your promise to me, when I was a young girl in love?’ Two angry red spots were appearing, one on each of her cheeks. Her nose was becoming white and pinched looking. ‘I suppose that doesn’t count, does it? To jilt a naive girl whose heart has been stolen?’
‘We’ve been through all this before, Lavinia. I did not exactly jilt you. You know I had good reasons for going away. I would have married you, if you had waited. Instead you threw yourself into the arms of another.’
‘Bertie was my solace in my hour of need.’
‘Good for bloody Bertie – now get down off that beast and speak with me properly. I have a great favour to ask and arguing over our history is not going to help things.’
‘What makes you think I want to help you? Perhaps I want to see you squirm, Alexander Kirk. Perhaps I would like to see you writhe. I’m not a very kind person underneath, you know. I can be very cruel despite the fact that I’m a woman.’
‘Lavinia,’ he said fiercely, his tone no longer pleading. ‘I order you to get down from that mount.’
‘That’s better,’ she said, smiling demurely. ‘I like you masterly, not cringing. Bertie cringes. I dislike men who cringe, even though I want them to do it, force them to do it sometimes. It makes me shudder.’
He shook his head, failing to comprehend this woman with whom he was once deeply in love.
‘Well?’ she said, her large round eyes on his face. ‘What is this great favour? Does it involve us? If it does I will have to remind you that only a few days ago we agreed that “us” was no longer to be. We were to become “him” and “her”, quite separate individuals, with different lives to lead.’
‘It’s my brother, James,’ he said, turning away from her, hating to bring his family problems to another person, even Lavinia. ‘He’s in deep trouble. He has run up gambling debts to the tune of two thousand pounds. If my father finds out, he will be furious, and James could never withstand the fury of my father. No more than I could. I need to find a distraction for James, perhaps a female diversion, which will occupy his mind, take it away from his current obsession with the cards.’
Mrs Durham’s eyes opened wide with astonishment.
‘I hope you don’t think . . .’ she began, but he interrupted her quickly.
‘I was not thinking of you. Despite what you believe, I am still very fond of you, Lavinia, and have the greatest admiration and respect for you. I would not dream of asking you to do such a thing. To use you like that? I would rather die.’
Her eyes, which had begun to harden, softened again.
‘Oh, Alex, when you say things like that I do not wonder I ever loved you so much.’
‘Well – that is beside the point. No, I was thinking of your companion, Mrs Kennedy, the wife of Corporal Kennedy, who fell at Balaclava. Forgive me if I’m overstepping the mark here, but she seems to enjoy a flirtation.’
Lavinia had a wry grin forming at the corner of her mouth.
‘What you are suggesting is monstrous, Alexander.’
He took a step back, flustered and unhappy, knowing that though his motives were sound, the idea was caddish in the extreme. He was not a follower of Machiavelli himself. Ends did not justify means. The wife of Corporal Kennedy might have been misjudged by all and sundry. In any case, the fact that she might enjoy a flirtation, or even a liaison or two, did not mean that she would be willing to lend herself to an underhand scheme like playing with a man’s emotions. She might even loathe his brother on sight and shudder at the thought of any kind of relationship, no matter what the reasons for the game.
‘I’m sorry, Lavinia. I must think of something else.’
‘I shall tell you what I shall do. I shall put the proposal to Molly herself and see what she thinks of it. Molly, like some women, does enjoy a little game-playing occasionally. If I were you, I should concern myself with your brother. How do you know he will play? He might detest her on sight.’
‘That’s true, but unlikely. She is very pretty, after all. One might even say beautiful.’
‘Is she? Really? You think so, Alexander?’ said Mrs Durham, raising her eyebrows just a little.
‘Oh, not compared to you, Lavinia,’ he said hastily. ‘You are a nonpareil.’
Mrs Durham laughed. ‘And what about her background. You don’t think he will find it too – common? She is, after all, only the daughter of a blacksmith. Your brother is heir to a baronetcy. Would he even look at a blacksmith’s daughter?’
‘Kings have consorted with chambermaids. We’re not suggesting marriage here, Lavinia. I hope we’re not even suggesting anything deeper than holding hands while the moon goes down behind the masts of the ships in the harbour.’
He studied his feet for a moment, then added, ‘Besides, I do not see why class should be a barrier to anything. I myself am a common soldier.’
Lavinia Durham strolled back to her horse, her riding skirts swishing as she walked. At the last moment before remounting, with Crossman there ready to help, his cupped hands under the arch of her boot, she turned and looked him in the eyes. She spoke softly in the back of her throat.
‘Oh, you’re anything but common, Alexander. Believe me.’
She rode off into the Crimean dawn, leaving Crossman wondering just what he had started.
Later in the day he received a message from Mrs Durham to meet her down by the quay. When he reached Balaclava harbour, he saw her standing by a capstan. There was a small dark woman with her. He recognised this person as being Molly Kennedy. Molly had one of Lavinia’s parasols, which she was twirling idly over her shoulder. The pair of them watched as he approached.
‘Is this the sergeant?’ asked Molly.
‘This is Sergeant Crossman,’ said Lavinia Durham, smiling. ‘Isn’t he handsome, Molly?’
‘He’s very special, he is,’ replied Molly. ‘But he’s not the one, is he?’
‘No, the man we spoke of is the sergeant’s friend, Lieutenant James Kirk, in the 93rd Foot. But you must never mention Sergeant Crossman to the lieutenant, if you are fortunate enough to meet him. I’ve explained to you why.’
Crossman could see that Lavinia had been instructing Molly on the correct way for a lady to dress. Lavinia would also be teaching her companion good manners, etiquette, and all those points of refinement which separated the ladies from rankers’ wives. Of course, Molly would never learn to employ all these rules and codes naturally – they were too many and subtle to absorb after childhood and the peak learning years were over – but she might get by without disgracing herself in genteel company if she put her mind to it.
‘Sergeant Crossman,’ said Mrs Durham, ‘this is Mrs Kennedy.’
‘I’m Molly,’ said the young woman, with a small curtsey.
‘Mrs Kennedy,’ he acknowledged, stiffly. ‘I take it Mrs Durham has explained the circumstances?’
‘Yes, she has, poor man. Your friend, I mean. I expect he’s very sorry for losing all that money. I would be. Anyway, I should like to meet him. We’ve had a little look at him, you know, just to make sure he wasn’t really horrible, but he looks nice. I don’t mind meeting him, I’m sure.’
‘You mustn’t mention the gambling debt to him,’ said Crossman, alarmed. ‘I mean, he wouldn’t like
it.’
‘Oh, no,’ Molly gave an amused wave of her hand, ‘course not. I wouldn’t do that. A man’s gambling debts is private. I wouldn’t presume. I shall just pretend I’m interested in him because he’s nice-looking. You mustn’t think I usually do this, but I want to help my friend Mrs Durham, who said you were both in terrible straits over Lieutenant Kirk.’
Crossman found he was sweating. Was he really doing the right thing? This was not only bizarre, it was degrading, to everyone concerned, including himself. But he could think of no better plan. Of course, he was crossing bridges before he came to them. His brother might be horrified at the thought of speaking with this woman. She was as transparent as glass. Even now she was flirting a little with Crossman, though he was not supposed to be the object of her interest. It seemed to come very naturally to her, this kind of trifling.
‘Thank you, Mrs Kennedy. Mrs Durham. I think I’d better be on my way now. I’m sure that you, Mrs Durham, will keep me informed of progress. Remember, Mrs Kennedy – not a word to the lieutenant about me or this scheme, if you please.’
‘Course not.’
He left the two ladies standing on the quayside and quickly beat a retreat back to his hovel. When he arrived, his soldiers were just coming back from the canteen. They were all, even Peterson, a little tipsy. Crossman let this pass. They had seen too many horrors of war for him to lecture them on sobriety.
A little later he sent for Wynter to join him upstairs where he had his sleeping quarters.
‘You wanted to see me, sergeant,’ said Wynter, swaying on his feet a little. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Wynter, do you cheat at cards?’
Wynter first looked puzzled, then indignant, and finally he managed anger.
‘What are you sayin’, sergeant? I never heard such rot in all my days. Me? Cheat?’
‘Devlin says you do. He says he’s seen you. Moreover he says you’re very good at it, that if he wasn’t one of your closest companions, aware of your habits, he probably would have missed your little machinations too.’
Soldiers in the Mist Page 13