Her broad, plain face broke into a smile. ‘You’re welcome, sergeant. And don’t worry, I know we’re back to being soldiers again. That’s one thing we can both rely on, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it is.’
Another blast from the bugle, followed by Wynter’s denial and denunciation. ‘That wasn’t me, sergeant. It was Gwilliams.’
‘Get that thing out of here!’ roared Crossman, with more vehemence than he actually felt.
There was a scuffling sound from below, then the long and steady moaning and groaning from a Wynter whose toy had been taken away. Once things had settled again, Crossman was aware that the street outside was full of people. Another ship had arrived from England, carrying a large number of passengers by the sound of it. Spring had arrived. The Travelling Gentlemen and camp followers, having wintered in Britain, would be coming back in their droves. It was most peculiar how war attracted quite ordinary people. Was it the sound of the guns? The idea of death being in the air? On the one hand, Crossman could see the fascination of deadly weapons, loud explosions, men in colourful, dashing uniforms going about the serious business of war. On the other, he found the idea of trekking around the world’s killing grounds ghoulish and bloodthirsty. There were not only men, but some women too. Women like Lavinia Durham, who seemed to delight as much in the patterns of battle as they would in the pattern of a quilt or wallpaper. As soon as fighting started, anywhere, Lavinia would be on her horse seeking the best spot to view it all from. It was true she expressed horror and pity for the wounded and dead, and she did her nursing best once it was all over, but still, she was there, at the centre, her eyes locked to the bloody scene.
At that very moment, Crossman heard her voice, calling up at the window.
‘Alexander? Sorry, Jack? Are you there?’
He went to the glassless window and opened the shutters. Looking down he saw her face beaming up at him. She was dressed in a thin outdoor coat which revealed her figure and, he admitted to himself, she looked adorable. Her white teeth gleamed in the weak sun. Her cheeks were rosy. (Had she been deliberately pinching them?) Beneath the Russian fur hat, her complexion was flawless, like soft ivory that gleamed its pale beauty to the world. Her coat was trimmed at the hem and sleeves with a fur that matched the hat. Furs suited her. She was a wild animal within that demure-looking body. Inside her is a leopard, he thought, which only comes out when . . . He checked himself, mentally. These old stirrings were not good for him. She was forbidden fruit.
‘Mrs Durham,’ he replied, trying to sound bored, ‘what is you want?’
‘Don’t use that tone of voice with me, sergeant. You know you find me irresistibly attractive. I can see it in your eyes.’
He gritted his teeth. How did they always know what you were thinking?
‘I would still like to know what you’re doing, calling up at my window,’ he said, aware that there were other people passing by, some of them curious as to the nature of this conversation between a beautiful woman and a man in shirtsleeves at his bedroom window. ‘This is not genteel behaviour for the wife of a captain, Mrs Durham.’
Her voice remained light and airy. ‘I’ve come to invite you to dinner, sir, if you please.’
‘Dinner?’ He frowned. ‘I can’t dine with you, Lavinia. I’m from the ranks. A sergeant can’t dine with an officer and his lady. That’s written in stone.’
‘Oh, stuff and nonsense. Anyway, it’s just his lady. Bertie won’t be there. He won’t even know about it.’
‘Then I definitely can’t come.’
‘Of course you can. You’re just being stubborn. Look, there’s someone I want you to meet.’
‘Who?’
‘A lady like myself, only much prettier.’
He smiled in spite of himself. ‘No one is prettier than you, Lavinia, and you know it.’
She smiled back. ‘Thank you, sir. Not even goose girls with false red hair?’
‘Especially goose girls. Who is this person? Why are you always trying to matchmake? I’m perfectly happy, you know.’ Several people had paused to listen now and Crossman was becoming acutely embarrassed by the conversation. ‘Stay there a moment, I’ll come down.’
Grabbing his coatee from the nail on which it hung he descended the stairs and, ignoring Wynter’s questions, went outside. He found Lavinia around the side of the dwelling.
‘This is very dangerous,’ he said to her. ‘I have no desire to be stripped of my rank and flogged, thank you very much.’
‘Bertie wouldn’t do that to you. Not if I told him not to. Now,’ her voice became excited, ‘you are to come to a place on the wharf, a little blue-and-white cottage. I think you know it.’
He did know it. It had been the residence of the Balaclava Harbour Marine Superintendent before the British had taken it over. Since then it had been in various hands, mostly those wearing generals’ gloves. He was not sure who currently resided at that address, but he was fairly certain that the occupant would far outrank him. He did not relish the idea of dining at a house where the party might at any moment be interrupted by some earl or lord whose doting aide was at least of field officer rank. Such a dinner could not be enjoyed in peace, no matter how good the repast. Visions of firing squads were not completely out of the question.
‘I know it, but I’m not going there.’
‘Oh, don’t be so stuffy. General Enticknap has given me the use of it for the next twenty-four hours and he promises he won’t come anywhere near it during that time.’
The hairs on the back of Crossman’s neck stood on end.
‘General Enticknap?’
‘Yes, he’s a nice old stick and he indulges me from time to time. Not that he receives any favours, you understand. He just likes pretty women to flatter him. I do that quite well, I think. It’s in my kind nature to pass complimentary remarks to grizzled old men. “My, how straight and tall you look in that uniform, General Enticknap. Your wife must be a very proud lady.”’ She then put on a growling tone to simulate the general’s voice. ‘“Wife, ma’am? Don’t have such a creature.” “Oh, surely? How could such a handsome man escape? I don’t believe it.” “True, ma’am, I assure you! Now, my dear, what was it you wanted to see me about?” ’
‘Lavinia, you are incorrigible.’
‘I know, it’s an attractive feature in a married lady, isn’t it? It wouldn’t do if I was still a young chit, but I’m not. I can get away with practically anything but murder, now that I have a husband.’
‘I can’t eat at General Enticknap’s house.’
‘Yes, of course you can. I won’t take no for an answer. I must have you married, or at least engaged, before you leave the Crimea. Once you get back to Britain you’ll be spoiled for choice and in the end, like any man, you’ll make the wrong one for the wrong reasons. I want you settled with someone I know, so that I shan’t be too jealous. It’s easier for me if I do the choosing. For you know, Alexander, I am still wildly in love with you.’ Her eyes flashed fire for a moment. ‘I hate the thought of anyone else having you, but the die is cast and I must learn to accept that one day you will belong to another. I would hate it to be a beautiful stranger. A haughty beautiful stranger who doesn’t know what was once between us.’
‘Really, Lavinia . . .’ he began, but she cut him short.
‘No, I know what I’m talking about. I dream about that woman. I see her walk by on your arm and she gives me nothing but a contemptuous glance. She has a thousand faces, but none of them is known to me. I have to make her one of my friends, someone I trust and know to have fine, delicate feelings, so that I shall not be hurt too badly.’
‘Lavinia, you can’t dictate to me over my future wife. That’s monstrous, no matter what has passed between us. I will not marry to satisfy you or your so-called jealous feelings.’
‘Of course not. But you won’t mind if I keep bringing you together with my friends, will you? Just in the hope that you’ll do the sensible thing and fall in love with one o
f them under my approving eye? I promise they will all be exceedingly beautiful. There will be no freckles or spots, no dark complexions, no red hair. Especially no ghastly red hair. They will all have wonderfully patient dispositions, or they would not be friends of mine and put up with me. They will be tender, not given to bursts of hot temper, not spendthrifts. They will be thoughtful, attendant to your every need – in fact I shall only choose the most perfect ladies to parade before you.’
‘Lavinia, I am at a loss . . .’
‘Eight o’clock this evening. Do not be late.’
With that she was gone, tripping out into the muddy street, vanishing amongst the throng.
Crossman spent the rest of the day fuming. How could Lavinia put him in such a bind? If he went to the dinner he would stand the chance of being discovered by someone in authority. If he did not, he knew she would come seeking him out and demand an explanation. Either way he was going to be embarrassed beyond measure. He probably should not go. Yet – yet he was a man, for all that, as the poet said. He was intrigued by this liaison. All his good common sense told him to lie low for twenty-four hours. Go and visit the regiment on the line. Go somewhere Mrs Durham could not reach him. Yet – yet . . . No, surely it was ludicrous. What should he wear to meet this unknown woman? His sergeant’s uniform – worn, holed and threadbare as it was, the colour drained out of it by summer suns and winter rains? He might borrow some civilian clothes from someone. Lovelace? But what if he were caught? It would be far worse to be found out of uniform, in the presence of two ladies. At least if he had his uniform on he might leap up and pretend to be serving them dessert or something, should the door burst open and an officer march in slapping his right thigh with a marshal’s baton.
Yet, when the time came, he found himself strolling down the road towards Balaclava Harbour, wearing his tattered sergeant’s uniform. All was not lost. If his courage deserted him at the eleventh hour he could walk on, go somewhere else, without having to return to the hovel to put Lovelace’s civilian clothes back where he might have found them.
Now, here he was before the door. He raised the knocker. Lowered it quietly. Raised it again and hammered hard. The door opened.
‘Goodness, Alexander, don’t knock the house down,’ said a fragrant-smelling Lavinia.
He breathed in the perfumed air as if he were drinking water after a being lost in the desert. ‘Ah, yes. Sorry. Bit nervous. No idea why. Nothing in it, of course.’
‘Now you’re speaking like Bertie speaks, in those short stuttering sentences, just as he does with his sporting chums. There’s no need to be nervous. We’re all friends here.’ She opened the door wider and he saw that there were candles in silver holders on a table with a white cloth and silver cutlery. Crystal glasses twinkled in the flickering light. There was a log fire in the fireplace which burned merrily. An upright piano stood against the far wall. It too had candles burning in its fixed holders. The whole scene was very cosy. Too cosy by half, for Crossman’s liking. He now wished he had chosen the other option or was out on a fox hunt with his men.
‘Well, come on in. Don’t stand there like a post.’
Crossman glanced along the wharf. There were people about, strolling or walking with more purpose along the stone flags. Lamps had been lit. Many of these were hanging from masts or stays on ships in the harbour. They glimmered as men moved under and around them, doing the various tasks required of seamen aboard ships at anchor. He had no idea what those duties were, but they looked inviting. How he wished he had some knot to tie or sail to sew in the light of one of those lanterns. Why had he not joined the navy, instead of the army? There were few women in the navy. No, that wasn’t altogether true. While in the harbour there would be women on board the ships. Mostly women selling things like craftware, food, rat traps, drink, their bodies. You could not escape women, no matter which of the two services you joined. Women found you out, wherever you went.
‘What are you dreaming about?’ cried an impatient Lavinia. ‘Do come in, Alexander.’
Forage cap in hand, he stepped into the parlour. A woman was seated in a chair on the other side of the fire, the side previously hidden from his view. She had her hands in her lap and she looked up at him when he entered. She had dark hair, dark eyes, and an engaging smile. For a few moments he did not recognize her. Then her identity hit him with such a force it almost drove the wind out of his speech.
‘Cousin Jane?’ he croaked, utterly taken aback.
She rose to her feet. ‘Alexander, how lovely to see you.’ She crossed the room and kissed his bearded cheek. ‘Oh,’ she stepped back, seemingly distressed, ‘how thin you are. Are you well, Alexander?’
‘Quite well,’ he replied, firmly, to put her mind at rest. ‘Never felt better.’
‘There are so many victims here. Of the cholera. Of dysentery. I thought you might be ill. But now I see your eyes have a healthy look to them and I’m not so worried after all. It’s simply your weight. I suppose everyone loses a little here. The diet is very plain.’
‘I’m fine. And you? How do you fare?’
‘I’m also very well, thank you.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I could not have said that two or three days ago. I was a ghastly green colour. Seasickness, you know. I’m no sailor, I’m afraid. I was ill almost the whole voyage. Sea voyages are supposed to be health-giving, aren’t they? Mine was a nightmare.’
‘I heard there were storms. Even good sailors have problems when the waves are crashing over the decks.’
‘It’s kind of you to make excuses for me, but I tell you, sir, if I were to be punted gently down the River Cam, I should be ill.’
A little cough from behind him reminded Crossman that he and his cousin Jane were not alone.
‘Lavinia,’ he said, turning to face her, his face as bright as a harvest moon. ‘You should have told me it was Jane. I feel I protested a little.’
‘Oh, no, not you,’ said Lavinia. ‘Come, let us sit at the table. Ring that little silver bell by your plate, would you Alexander? It will alert the kitchen that we are ready for the first course. Once we have something on our plates we can talk more comfortably. There’s wine there, by your elbow, if you would be so kind . . .?’
‘Whose crockery is this?’ asked Crossman, picking up the crystal wine glass that stood by his place.
‘General Enticknap has kindly allowed us to use his finery,’ replied Lavinia.
‘So,’ Jane said, once they had been served and were eating, the waiter not even flickering an eyebrow at the guest in a tattered sergeant’s uniform, ‘you are a soldier now?’
‘I am indeed a soldier. You may wonder why I joined the ranks under an assumed name, but I’m not going to tell you. It’s – it’s family business.’
‘But Alexander, I am family. Almost.’
‘Not close enough, I’m afraid, Cousin Jane. In fact I would have difficulty in telling my own brother. I think Lavinia knows more than is good for her, since she nursed me through a fever during which I believe I talked my head off about many private matters. I am here, as a sergeant in the 88th Foot, and that’s as far as I’m prepared to go with the subject.’
‘As you wish. I shall have to ask Lavinia what she knows.’
‘Oh,’ he cried, his knife and fork in the air. ‘That’s not ethical.’
‘Of course it is,’ replied Lavinia. ‘We ladies are already at a great disadvantage when it comes to dealing with men. We must have all the ammunition we can obtain. There are no secrets between us. Are there, Jane dear?’
8
The three friends ate their meal and drank their wine, enjoying each other’s company as they had in more peaceful times at home. They toasted each other and those bygone days with enthusiasm. In spite of his fear that they would be interrupted by an enraged General Enticknap, Crossman was thoroughly enjoying himself. He had brought with him his long Turkish chibouque and was looking forward to a good smoke after the meal, Lavinia having given him a gift of tobacco. Tha
t, combined with the promise of good coffee, brought him closer to heaven.
Lavinia brought up the subject of the Sardinian Bersaglieri and their distinctive headdress, with its black cock feathers.
‘They look so dashing, Jane. And their undress cap is red with a pretty blue corded tassel. From a distance it looks a little like a Turkish fez. They are so gallant, the Sardinians. I had one sweep off his broad-brimmed hat to me the other day and tell me that he believed summer had arrived. When I asked why, he said I had opened the door to it with my smile.’
None of this impressed Fancy Jack Crossman, who thought the sweeping off of hats had gone out with cavaliers.
‘So, Cousin Jane, what are you doing here?’ Crossman asked. ‘You are surely not going to stay?’
‘I’ve come to see first-hand what I read about in The Times. Mr Russell is a very good writer, of course, but one could not believe that conditions are as terrible as he says they are. I applied to Miss Nightingale for a position as a nurse, but was turned away. I’ve decided to help in any way I can.’
‘Turned away?’ cried Crossman in astonishment. ‘Were you not suitable? I should have thought that Miss Nightingale would have been grateful to have you?’
‘She thought I lacked nursing experience. I told her that I had been taught certain medical techniques by you as a child, such as to spit on a knee-graze and rub it in, but she felt that wasn’t enough.’
‘Now you’re making fun of me.’
Jane smiled. ‘Yes, of course I am, but you’re so easy, Alexander. Isn’t he, Lavinia? No, the reason I wasn’t suitable, I suspect, is because I have tendency to put forward my own ideas. Miss Nightingale is definitely a woman who does not like to be crossed. I believe she felt I should cross her at times with my own thoughts on various subjects.’
‘That I can understand.’
‘So, in fact, I decided to come and see what I could do on my own account. I understand there’s a Mrs Seacole here, the daughter of a Scottish officer? If she is able to do it on her own, then surely I’m just as able.’
The Winter Soldiers Page 25