In Distant Fields

by Charlotte Bingham

  ‘Bless me, Bertie, if you’re not made an ass of,’ Gus told him, at the same time nudging him. ‘There your sister is, and here do come the rest of them and, all glory be to heaven, they are all standing waving their bathing things up at us!’

  ‘Right, first down, first in, wins the pot from cards last night!’

  They all raced down the stairs of the small house and out onto the lawn, each elbowing the others out of the way in his haste to be the first to be at the side of the girl of his choice.

  ‘You are all late,’ Allegra informed her brother as James Millings promptly attached himself to her side, and Almeric went straight up to Kitty, who was swinging her bathing hat from one finger, her swimming costume neatly rolled up in a large towel under her arm.

  ‘Does your sainted mother, the Duchess, know about this?’ Peregrine asked Cecilia as, having changed, they all walked whispering and giggling through the garden down to the beach.

  ‘Yes, of course she does. Don’t you remember, we always have midnight swims at Waterside,’ Cecilia reassured him.

  Peregrine nodded. It was some years since he had holidayed with the Knowles at Waterside, and he did seem to remember there was some sort of tradition to do with swimming in the moonlight, but they had all been so much younger then, or had seemed so much younger. His eyes drifted ahead to where Kitty was walking beside Almeric, and then he turned to Cecilia.

  ‘Isn’t it strange how strictly we are all chaperoned, until we either go hunting, or swimming, and then it’s just a free-for-all?’

  Cecilia, who was watching Valentine Wynyard Errol slipping what he must have believed was a surreptitious arm around Livia’s waist, looked up at him and knowing that she must distract him from what was happening, started to talk nineteen to the dozen.

  ‘I say, Perry, you know and I know that there is sure to be a bit of a dust-up quite soon. There is no getting away from it, Papa says. I know Papa is always a bit of an old gloom-monger, but he says Sir Edward Grey is only interested in salmon fishing and shooting, and he can hardly be brought to London, let alone be got to put his mind to preventing a war, and that the King is so much at odds with his cousin the Kaiser that they can’t wait to get at each other, and that is all before their navy getting as big as ours is driving everyone to distraction, because we are meant to own the seas, and everyone knows it.’

  Cecilia was talking so fast and so furiously that Peregrine was beginning to suspect that she had some other motive. He started to look round, partly because he found the conversation inappropriate to the setting, and partly because he could not help appreciating the delight of the scene, and he really did not much care to talk about stuffed shirts like Sir Edward Grey.

  ‘I can’t see Livia,’ he said suddenly, looking behind him.

  ‘Oh, Livia is here all right, Perry. Just behind you, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Just there …’ Cecilia pointed vaguely in the direction of a smaller group of people who were bringing up the rear.

  ‘Oh, yes, of course.’

  Cecilia had always loved and felt sorry for Livia, if only because it was so apparent that her mother did not love her. She wanted nothing more than to see her freed from her family. Behind her she could hear Harry being urged on by Emerald.

  ‘Come on, old thing,’ Emerald was saying, catching at his hand. ‘No need to be shy! I have lived in Paris, even if you have not!’

  Harry allowed Emerald to pull him along, and then she went to squeal and dance at the water’s edge along with the other girls, who were all also holding hands with their chosen beau. Teddy had even managed to find Partita’s hand, and since she had let him, had instantly become convinced that he was the happiest man in the whole world.

  ‘Oh, Teddy, isn’t this romantic?’ Partita asked, her face all innocence as she held it up to him in the darkness.

  ‘It is beyond the beyonds,’ Teddy agreed. ‘And you are an angel.’

  ‘If only I were, but I have a dreadful feeling that I’m actually a devil,’ Partita said in a purposefully tragic voice.

  ‘Remember when you came to see us at New-brook all those years ago?’

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘Nanny Heaslip always said, “Sure that Lady Teeta, she’ll either become a plaster saint or a she-devil.” So, which is it to be, Tita?’

  ‘Oh, both, don’t you think?’

  ‘Can you be both?’

  ‘I can be anything I like, and so can you, Teddy,’ Partita called, jumping into a wave, only to disappear into it, and not reappear again.

  ‘Tita! Tita!’ Teddy called, diving into the same wave after her.

  They both surfaced together, laughing, Partita doing her best to push him under just as the moon decided to appear from under its large, dark cloud, so that Teddy, who had leaned confidently under cover of darkness in an attempt to do what he had been dying to do since he was all of twelve years old, found he was kissing Partita in the full spotlight of the moon’s brightest light.

  Partita cared less, she liked being the centre of attention, so she kissed Teddy right back, not minding in the least if anyone was watching, which, of course, they were, because the moon was so bright.

  Peregrine saw her first and at once felt a strange mixture of jealousy and relief before turning away and kissing Mollie; this meant that they in their turn were seen by Allegra and James, so that pretty soon everyone in that warm dark sea was kissing and laughing, and then swimming off, only to come back and repeat the whole exercise. Meanwhile, behind the men’s bathing hut, Livia was happily surrendering to Valentine.

  Chapter Seven

  Love Affairs

  The days passed blissfully. The sun remained high in a sky that only a dolt would describe as anything but azure. As the sea grew warmer by the hour, life at Waterside assumed a lazy, idle and gentle routine, of early morning swims, picnic lunches, long walks or rides along the strand and equally long lazy meals in the evening, followed by either parlour games or rounds of whist. No one there wanted it to end – why should they? It was an idyll because, quite apart from anything else, everyone seemed to be either in love, or on the very verge of it, so as the holiday grew to an end, it was not altogether surprising when Almeric invited Kitty for a walk.

  ‘Valentine has asked Livia to marry him,’ he announced after some minutes’ silence.

  ‘How delightful.’

  ‘I hope they are allowed to marry, but it will be a miracle if they are. Her family are such dyed-in-the-wool Catholics.’

  ‘Does that matter?’

  ‘In the case of the Catesby family it most certainly does. They find it difficult to forget the hard times.’

  ‘But that was all a long time ago, surely?’

  ‘I agree, Kitty – but try telling Mrs Catesby. I wish Valentine all the luck in the world, because he will surely need it.’

  ‘You really think she will forbid the marriage?’

  ‘I have no doubt that she will, just as I have every doubt that you will refuse what I am about to propose to you, Kitty.’

  ‘I think people should be allowed to marry whosoever they wish,’ Kitty continued, sounding a little shocked at such old-fashioned prejudice.

  ‘So do I,’ Almeric agreed, finding himself as always mesmerised by the upward curve of Kitty’s mouth. ‘And that is precisely what I am determined to do. I’m determined to marry the girl I love. And I think you know who that is.’

  Kitty turned away from him.

  ‘Kitty? Kitty, is something the matter?’

  ‘No. Nothing’s the matter. Not really.’

  ‘So why – why the worried frown?’

  ‘Almeric – if you really are about to propose marriage, I’m not sure—’

  ‘No, of course I’m not. I’m about to suggest a game of French cricket. That’s why I am carrying this – for you.’

  He produced a ring box from his pocket, but Kitty put a hand on his, preventing him from opening it.

 
‘Almeric,’ she said,’ surely you should ask your father first? I feel sure that he will not wish you to marry Evelyn Rolfe’s daughter.’

  ‘Your father is neither here nor there. Nor, as a matter of fact, is mine.’

  ‘My father is notorious. I might have children like him.’

  ‘Of course you won’t. You’re being absurd. And you’re quite spoiling my proposal. I will start again.’ Almeric cleared his throat. ‘I love you, Kitty Rolfe. I have loved you from the very first moment I saw you. I do not care about anything else – or anyone else, come to think of it. It’s you I love, you with whom I fell in love, and you who I shall love to my dying day.’

  ‘Al—’ Kitty began to plead, trying to stay determined to turn him down, but softening when she saw just how much she meant to him.

  ‘If you could see your way to loving me, Kitty, then I shall be the happiest man on Cod’s earth.’

  He opened the little red box in his hand.

  ‘This is an old family ring,’ he said. ‘It belonged to my grandmother. She left it to me for my fiancée, for when I became engaged.’

  ‘Almeric,’ Kitty said, transfixed by the beauty of the diamond, ‘Almeric, you could marry anybody.’

  ‘I know I could marry anyone, Kitty, but I don’t want to marry anyone. I want to marry someone, and that someone is you, Kitty Rolfe.’

  ‘I really wasn’t born to be a duchess – Al, really I was not.’

  ‘I have to disagree.’

  ‘I really am not suitable.’

  ‘It has nothing to do with suitability. This is to do with love, Kitty – and I love you with all my heart. I always will. I have never felt this way about anyone, and I never knew that I could. I never knew it was possible. So, Kitty? Kitty, darling Kitty – will you please, please marry me?’

  Kitty looked down at the ring that the Duchess had given Almeric.

  ‘But of course I will,’ she found herself saying. ‘However could I possibly not?’

  Partita was sitting outside trying to paint a watercolour of the seascape when she learned of Almeric’s proposal from her sisters, who had both hurried out of the house to break the news.

  ‘But of course you knew about it already, so why are we bothering?’ Cecilia grumbled, sitting down under a parasol.

  ‘No I did not know about it!’ Partita returned, splashing her paintbrush crossly in a jar of water. ‘I had no more idea than you had.’

  ‘Somebody must have known,’ Allegra said. ‘It certainly wasn’t either of us—’

  ‘Although it should have been,’ Cecilia interrupted. ‘Seeing as we are older.’

  ‘Somebody must have known, because Al has given her Grandmother’s engagement ring.’

  ‘Perhaps Almeric told Mamma,’ Partita reasoned, staring out to sea as she tried again to compose her painting.

  ‘I think it’s perfectly beastly,’ Cecilia continued. ‘The least Al might have done was wait for us.’

  ‘It is so unfair that Al can propose when he likes, and James can’t propose to me because he has no beastly money,’ Allegra said sadly. ‘Papa will not hear of me marrying until James has prospects.’

  ‘I don’t think Papa minds as much as James. He wants to keep you in a fitting manner,’ Partita announced, washing some blue from her paintbrush with a flourish. ‘But perhaps now Almeric’s proposed it will spur the others on,’ she suggested, tilting her head to one side to view what she had just painted.

  ‘I don’t think anything would egg James on,’ Allegra replied, swatting at a fly that was pestering her. ‘And the sky simply is not that colour.’

  ‘It’s my impression of the sky,’ Partita told her firmly. ‘This is an impression, not a likeness.’

  ‘It’s far too bright a blue,’ Cecilia said, glancing at the watercolour. ‘What might egg James on – and anyone else for that matter,’ she continued, sitting herself well back under the parasol and out of the burning sun. ‘What might egg him on is – a war.’

  ‘There’s not going to be a war,’ Partita said quickly. ‘And you’d better be careful, Cecilia, or you’ll have to pay a forfeit.’

  ‘I’m not discussing the news, Tita, I am simply commenting in the most general of terms. Conversationally – the topic being if there is a war men are inclined to get married quickly in case – you know – in case they don’t make it back.’

  ‘Cecilia is right for once,’ Allegra replied. ‘Everyone gets frightfully excited when there’s a war and they do all sorts of things like proposing and getting married and having babies really quickly.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Partita swilled her paintbrush angrily once again in her water jar. The thought that there might be a war was not something she wanted to contemplate on such a lovely day when everybody was having such a nice time. ‘You’re just guessing.’

  ‘I listen to what people say, Tita. Unlike some I know. And I read. For instance, I read only recently that men never wish to marry anyone unless they absolutely have to.’

  ‘What on earth did you read that in?’

  ‘Something or other. It really doesn’t matter what I read it in – what matters is the observation.’

  ‘So you would like a war just so that you could get married?’

  ‘I certainly do not want to sit on the shelf, thank you, Partita – which is what we shall all look as though we are doing if Almeric goes ahead and really does marry Kitty. No one wants one’s brother to marry first; certainly we don’t. Let us hope and pray for a long engagement.’

  ‘Of course he’s going to marry Kitty!’ Partita replied so angrily that both her sisters turned and stared at her. ‘Of course he is!’

  ‘Perhaps Papa will say no because of that awful father of hers,’ Cecilia observed to Allegra, ignoring Partita’s outburst.

  ‘Only if Mamma opposes,’ Allegra replied. ‘You know Papa as far as Mamma is concerned.’

  Allegra and Cecilia looked at each other and sighed, before parroting together: ‘Whatever makes you happy, dearest dear – whatever makes you happy.’

  ‘Pas devant,’ Partita said, nodding at the gardener who was busy in the shrubbery to one side of the terrace. ‘Pas devant le jardinier.’

  ‘The main thing is, I do not happen to think Kitty is suitable,’ Allegra said in conclusion, getting up and deciding the topic was now exhausted. ‘And neither of us do,’ she added. ‘And the sea most certainly is not that awful bright colour, really it isn’t, Tita.’

  Meanwhile Almeric was having to deal with a totally separate problem rather than whether or not his sisters considered his beloved Kitty was suitable enough to be his wife. In response to Almeric telling Valentine his own proposal had just been accepted, instead of learning similar news from his friend, Valentine had just informed him that Livia and he had decided to elope.

  ‘But whatever for, Valentine?’ Almeric asked, aghast. ‘People like us don’t do things like that, believe me.’

  ‘We don’t have any option, Al,’ Valentine assured him cheerfully. ‘Mrs Catesby simply will not entertain the notion of someone of a different faith marrying her daughter, particularly not the son of a theatrical manager.’

  ‘Nonsense, Valentine. Maybe a hundred years ago – maybe fifty, say – but not nowadays, surely? People nowadays are far more liberal altogether.’

  ‘In government perhaps, Al – but not as far as families such as the Catesbys go. It’s not just her mother; I know my father thinks everyone gets married far too young nowadays and because of that they live to regret it, although what it is really is that marriage hasn’t really suited him. He says it’s because when he was a child he was always on tour with his parents, which made it difficult to settle down with anyone.’

  ‘As far as I can gather, old friend, life in the theatre is altogether different from life elsewhere, but much as I don’t want to sound like your pater, I really think you should take a pull and think all over again about what you intend to do – or not to do, more to the point. There are
some things one doesn’t do, old thing, and eloping happens to be one of them.’

  Valentine looked at his friend affectionately. Almeric was the best sort of friend any young man could have, steadfast, loyal and honest, but due both to his character and his upbringing sometimes he was oddly remote, however forward-thinking and modern-minded he tried to be.

  ‘You are absolutely right, of course, Al,’ Valentine said to him finally, putting a hand on his arm. ‘But you see, you are a son of a duke while I am only the son of a theatrical manager, and a philandering theatrical manager at that, and even worse, a philandering theatrical manager’s son who is determined to be an actor. I don’t really need the rule book. I can throw the rule book away.’

  ‘You can’t,’ Almeric replied. ‘No one can. We’ve had relations who have tried to do just that, and they always ended up in the soup.’

  ‘Yes, but that is the difference, old friend,’ Valentine replied with a smile. ‘Given my circumstances I already have at least one toe, if not a whole foot, in the soup bowl.’

  ‘But what about Livia? This really will put her beyond the pale, Val, believe me.’

  ‘She’s as determined on it as I am, Al. Besides – suppose the gloom merchants are right and there is going to be some sort of a war? Much the best thing to snatch at whatever chance we have of happiness, wouldn’t you agree? Aren’t your feelings just the same as my own, truly, are they not?’

  Almeric looked reflective. Such thoughts had been circulating in his own mind only too recently.

  ‘I love Livia, Al, and that’s all that matters – and she loves me. We know her family aren’t going to allow it, so we have no alternative. It won’t be the end of the world, believe me. The end of the world is a long, long way off.’

  Valentine gripped Almeric’s arm hard, as if to convince himself of the truth.

  ‘When are you planning on it, Val? Not before the end of the holiday?’

  ‘Of course not. That really would not be the done thing; might upset your mother.’ Valentine smiled. ‘Not the done thing at all.’

  ‘But nothing to be done before the pirates sail off?’