Cardigan’s entire frame shuddered as he cleared his throat, forcing down the tirade that threatened to burst from his person. Nightingale looked at Stirling with a withering glower as she shook her head. He wanted to protest, but Clementine, in support of her superior, squeezed his arm with force, inducing him to relent in the face of two such formidable women.
“And who might you be, Woman?” asked Cardigan insolently.
“Miss Florence Nightingale,” she said indicating with her head to Clementine that it was time to go.
Clementine could’ve kissed her. In the blink of an eye, and at exactly the right moment, she had saved Stirling from the ignoble fate of a court marshal. She dreaded to think what Cardigan would’ve done had Stirling demanded satisfaction or even worse punched him there and then. At the same time, Clementine loved him even more for nearly doing it. However, what made him even more endearing was his ability to listen to two women.
“Hah, the nurse that is to join the army in the Crimea. It’s a bloody ridiculous idea. Women have no place in the theatre of war; they belong at home,” said Cardigan somewhat too loudly.
Nightingale couldn’t resist it. The temptation was just too great. She hated and despised men like Cardigan. It was because of ignorant fools like him society remained in the backward state that it was.
“You mean women belong in the kitchen and behind the stoves. You are of the opinion, women should be spared from all things ugly and only devote themselves to all things pretty. Such as buttercups and dandelions in a spring paddock. You would claim that a woman has neither the stomach nor the intellect to handle a life of service for their country. Best keep women at home warming their husbands’ beds,” said Nightingale forcefully.
“Exactly, you have the gist of it. You’re smarter than you look, Nightingale,” said Cardigan happily, taking a glass of champagne from one of the waiters. He immediately started to slurp the beverage.
An evil smile crossed Nightingale’s face. “May I remind you - you arrogant baboon - that the Queen of England is a woman? She is the symbol of this nation, and my nurses and I will emulate her majesty’s exemplary female virtue and dedication to her country. You, My Lord are nothing but an ignorant brute that has the manners of an ape. Champagne is a too fine a beverage for you, My Lord. I suggest porter from a black bottle to quench your thirst. And even that is too good for you.”
Nightingale turned away from his Lordship without waiting for his reply.
“Come along Miss Delaney. Say goodbye to your charming dance partner; tis time for us to leave. The stench of unwarranted superciliousness and ignorance is starting to become quite unbearable,” said Nightingale brushing past Lord Cardigan proudly.
“What a woman,” said Royce in awe.
Cardigan arched his eyebrows. “That’s not how I’d put it, Major.”
Stirling wanted to say something but Royce shook his head pleadingly. Taking a deep breath, Stirling instead watched Clementine move towards the exit in her light-coloured gown with a tasteful décolleté that revealed her shoulders and arms. In one of her long-gloved hands she carried a fan made from ivory and mother-of-pearl. She was absolutely perfect, thought Stirling.
Chapter 14
The following morning Lord Cardigan stalked into the officers’ recreation room. It was a comfortable place with shelves full of leather-bound books on the back wall. A large hearth stood at the other end. In between, many dark wooden tables bedecked the parquet floor where the men played cards or exchanged words. The atmosphere exuded idle harmony and hearty banter between the men. It was where they congregated for talk, play, reading, games and indolent boasting.
After picking up a newspaper, Lord Cardigan sat down in a winged leather chair in the centre of the room. His adjutant stood next to him and exchanged a few nods with his superior. He cleared his throat loudly, as he focused his gaze on Stirling who sat with Royce at a table facing the window. As he started to speak, the two friends looked at one another. They instinctively knew what was to come.
“Now then, as spokesman of the officers’ committee, what Lord Cardigan would have me say is you, Major Whit Whittaker, are guilty of disorderly conduct in the mess hall. And what you should consider in the future is that comportment in the mess should be conducted like a gentlemen’s table - not a common ale house with black bottles.”
Stirling eyed the stuffed-up aide-de-camp with the bushy blond hair on his head and down the sides of his face closely. He took no notice of the other officers staring at him from all corners of the room. “That is an offensive thing to say, to have said, one officer to another, in front of brother officers.”
The unmistakable rumble of Lord Cardigan’s voice took over. “Do you not know that unlike a farmer, a gentleman decants his Moselle? – You do not drink it like beer, sir. If you cannot behave like a gentleman then you are to leave the regiment.”
“Will you shake hands with me, sir?” asked the adjutant, moving forward a few steps.
“No, there is no quarrel between us,” hissed Stirling, getting to his feet and heading for the door.
“You will shake hands with the man,” barked Cardigan.
Stirling stopped in mid stride and turned to face the earl. His face was an angry grimace. “I will not, My Lord.”
Flippantly holding a glass of sherry in his left hand and waving a cigar in the other, Cardigan glowered at his junior officer. “You flagrantly insult this officer?”
“No insult is intended to this officer.”
“Shake hands damn you or you shall be arrested,” snorted Cardigan.
“Why shall I be arrested?”
“I shall have you arrested; you are arrested; go to your quarters, sir, and be arrested.”
The earl’s last remark invited a bout of hilarity from the gathered men. Stirling shook his head at the foolishness of it all and vacated the room. Royce followed quickly in his wake.
“Stirling, wait for me.”
Stirling kept walking. He was in no mood for talk. He just had to get away from it all. There was a war on and those fools had the time to worry about black bottles and drinking porter in the mess. It was ridiculous, he thought. Great Britain was the most powerful nation in the world.
Sometimes he wondered how that ever came to pass. The army was riddled with cronyism, inefficiency, nepotism and incompetence. He was worried for the English when they finally faced the Russians on the field. To be led by arrogant men such as Cardigan did not bode well for the impending campaign.
“Wait for me,” said Royce, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
Stirling spun around. “What the hell do you want?” he snapped.
“Just to talk, to offer you some comfort.”
“Talk, offer me comfort. Ha! Do you think that’s going to help? You saw those fools in there. They are a bunch of stuffed up and arrogant ninnies without any notion of what matters in this world other than preening themselves and thinking that they are gentlemen. By God, man, their noodles are full of air.”
Royce smirked. “Yes, they are rather a bunch of glitzy peacocks, I’d say. And Cardigan’s the one with the loudest plumage. I’ll tell you one thing, if you carry on pestering the man, he’s bound to blow up.”
“And what a fine day that would be.”
Stirling pressed his lips together in thought. He had no clue what to do. It was impossible to fight against the likes of the earl. The regiment was his to do with as he pleased. Despite his harshness and arrogant manner, the men revered and admired him. He shook his head in despair.
“I should never have joined up with the 11th, Royce. This was all a big mistake. I am going to resign on the morrow,” he said at last.
Royce arched an eyebrow. “Do you really think that that is such a good idea? Remember the last time you resigned.”
Stirling sighed. He knew that his friend was right. Were he to resign his commission what would he do? There was no chance to go back to his father. Also, the earl would most prob
ably arrange for the entire regiment to give him white feathers of cowardice. There was nothing else for him other than a career in her majesty’s armed forces.
“And besides, this will all blow over. You’ll see,” pressed Royce further. “And no, you will not change divisions; I forbid it. You belong here more than any other man, including me. No one can ride a horse and slash a sabre like you can.”
“I very much doubt it will blow over, my friend. Cardigan is far too stubborn to give up on this one. He will insist I apologize to that supercilious bootlicker of his. I won’t do it, I tell you.”
Royce patted the other man on the shoulder. “Come on, I know just the thing.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“You’ll see.” With a smile, Royce indicated with his head that they head for the door.
“You know I can’t leave here. You heard that pompous old windbag: I shall have you arrested; you are arrested; go to your quarters, sir, and be arrested.”
Royce burst out laughing at Stirling’s excellent imitation of the earl. “You see, all you needed was a little laugh and now, come on. We are going to have some beer and skittles – some good times to make you forget today ever happened and I know just the thing or better said, just the person.” He winked mischievously.
Stirling looked at his friend quizzically. “What on earth are you planning?”
Chapter 15
“You cannot be serious. I am not in the mood for this. How can you expect me to…”
“Calm down, Stirling. I know you think that my sister-in-law is the jammiest bit of jam. I watched you two at the ball the other night. I have never seen her behave like that before. Now, I am in need of a walk and you are in need of a chaperone. Also, I am sure that Elizabeth would be delighted to join us. There remains only one thing for you to do.”
Royce lifted his eyebrows and pressed his lips together into a straight line. The gesture made him look more affable than usual.
“Ask the parents for their permission to open up courtship proceedings,” said Stirling automatically.
“Exactly. So, now, you go in there and ask Clementine’s father if you can take her for a walk in Hyde Park. Of course, Elizabeth and I will be in attendance; just for appearance sake, you know.”
“Oh, Royce, I don’t know. And how can you be sure that she is at home. You must be aware of how dedicated she is to the corps. Clementine is most probably with Miss Nightingale.”
“Oh, she’s home all right. I know it for a fact. Anyway, you said it yourself that Clementine mentioned at the ball that she was grateful you asked her first before her parents – what is there to worry about?” Royce moved closer to his friend. “And if you ask me, her mama and papa will be delighted.” He chuckled. “Their darling Clementine has shunned half the men in England. They will be over the moon that something other than nursing has taken her interest.”
With a serious expression on his face, Stirling nodded.
“One other thing…” Royce chuckled when he saw Stirling look at him with a confused expression on his face. “Swear to me that I will be your best man at the wedding.”
Stirling grinned at him, as he slapped his shoulder lightly. “You scallywag, you. I am not nearly anywhere close to thinking of church bells. But yes, if that should ever happen, then I would be delighted and honoured to have you as my best man.”
“Jolly good. Now that it’s settled, we can go in. Come along.” As if he had been walking in and out of Lord Leighton’s London residence his entire life, Stirling mounted the few steps to the front door with a confident stride. He rang the doorbell. The loud chime could be heard from outside.
Moments later, a butler appeared. He stood in the doorframe, immediately acknowledging Royce with a courteous lowering of his head. He indicated that he and Stirling enter the premises.
“You will wait outside the drawing room while I talk to his lordship and Clementine. I will come out to fetch you once I have their permission,” said Royce, following the butler into the house.
“You seem pretty sure that this is going to be all smooth sailing.”
“Oh, I am.”
Stirling admired the tasteful decoration as he entered further and further into the spacious interior. Despite his father’s home being almost four times larger, he much preferred the light white-stuccoed embellishment and marble bannister on the staircase in the Leighton residence to the dark, dusty and sombre ambiance at Kenbridge House.
“Here we go,” said Royce as they stood in front of the door to the drawing room.
Without waiting for a reply, he was gone. Stirling watched him enter with the butler and the door shut behind them with a soft click. As the last of his anger gradually dissipated, he started to feel nervous. He had never asked the parents of a lady for permission to engage in formal courtship before. How did one ask for such a thing? At that moment, charging a brigade of marauding Indians seemed so much easier.
He began to pace up and down in front of the heavy wooden door, his boots making a slight tapping sound on the marble flooring. He tried to think up the best way to ask Clementine’s father. He did not know the man. For a heartbeat, he worried whether he would be like his own father. If that were the case, his chances of gaining acceptance were very slim indeed.
Stirling was a man without means since his father had cut him off financially after the feather incident. He relied solely on his income as a major and how much longer would he have that for. Presently, it was more than sufficient for him, but not enough if he were to ask the daughter of an earl for her hand in marriage.
What on earth are you thinking? Marriage. Have you completely lost it? This is just an invitation to have a walk in the park. And besides, Clementine is married to her work and me…
Muttering and thinking about one’s profession made him melancholy. He realized that he might not have a vocation at all if Cardigan had his way. He loved being a solider. It was all he knew. For a fleeting second, he considered leaving the Leighton residence and heading back to the officers’ hall to apologize. At least then, the whole affair would be over.
Then, he remembered what Clementine had said during the ball: The higher we are placed, the more humbly we should walk. It was time to be humble, he decided. Walks in the park would have to wait.
“That’s it,” he barked, starting to make his way back down the hallway to the main entrance.
“What is it?” asked Royce who had suddenly appeared from the drawing room.
“Ugh, nothing. I was just leaving.”
“Oh, no you’re not. The sixth Earl of Leighton and his lovely daughter await your pleasure.” Royce winked. “Come along, there’s a good gentleman.”
Stirling shrugged. He behaved as if he was asked to attend an audience with Genghis Khan. “If you insist,” he muttered, hesitantly walking up to the door.
“I would’ve expected a little more enthusiasm from you. After all, I have arranged for you to have a walk with the lady of your dreams,” said Royce somewhat harshly.
“He hasn’t said yes yet.”
“He will. And you are lucky. That old battle-axe of a mother is not here.”
Stirling followed his friend into the large drawing room, overlooking Belgrave Square. It was bright and spacious. There was none of the stuffiness one found in his father’s London residence. A tasteful Persian carpet festooned the marble flooring with a sea of beautiful motifs depicting various paired animals facing one another. Stirling had never seen anything quite as lovely. The images captured him, telling him individual little stories.
“It’s an old Persian marriage carpet – beautiful, isn’t it?”
Stirling looked up from his perusal of the rug with a start. It was Clementine. She looked radiant. The neckline of her bright-blue dress was V-shaped and covered with a white chemisette down the front. The upper part of the garment descended down her flanks with the aid of a tightly woven corset until it touched her hips.
From there, with the
support of a crinoline, a series of puffy hoops boosted the silk fabric belonging to two sets of lower skirts, the outer one in light blue and the inner one in white. The effect was breath taking – Stirling thought that he could place his hands around her waist and encircle it with his fingers.
Clementine took a step forward. “Here you can see a pair of tigers facing each other. It denotes the female and the male of the species before the mating ritual. It is the same for all of the other animals depicted on it. Hence the name of the rug,” she said, waving her hand over the carpet. She had to stifle a giggle when she saw Stirling staring back at her as if he had seen a ghost.
“You must excuse my daughter, Lord Whit Whittaker. She tends to be a little too forward. The notion of not addressing a gentleman without first being presented to him is an alien concept to her.”
A Charming Cavalryman for Clementine_A Historical Romance Novel Based on True Events Page 12