“And Burke’s, sir? Although that only refers back to 1826 it can be a helpful source of information.”
“As you suggest.”
Gussie found it strange to see his father’s name, his mother’s and his own, noted as heir, in print but did not learn much that he had not already known. His grandfather, Sir Bernard Lacey, had been born circa 1760, and no location was given for his place of birth. The baronetcy had been created in 1815. Gussie assumed there must have been some military connection, since those were the times of the wars in Europe. When Sir Bernard died in 1832 the baronetcy had passed to his elder son, Henry, who had attended Winchester College between 1832 and 1839 and Magdalene College, Oxford from 1839 to 1843.
“You will see that there was a younger son,” the librarian pointed out helpfully. “William, born in the same year as Sir Henry, 1822. Nothing is told of him.”
“I have heard something of him. Is there a date given for his death?”
“I have found no record of that”
“That cannot be right. He must have died as an infant.”
“It would still be recorded. This would imply that William Lacey still lives, unless, of course he has died since the publication of this last volume. I will look at recent obituaries and notices.
“If you must, but I believe William Lacey to be long dead.”
“There is no mention of where Oakridge is. I have looked in the gazetteer and there is one Oakridge, near the village of Freshwater on the Isle of Wight in the county of Hampshire.”
“No. It can’t be there. There must be somewhere in Yorkshire with a similar name.”
Intrigued, Gussie set to his researches.
Every morning he walked to Clifford Street where he spent three hours working through the volumes supplied by the helpful librarian. He lunched at an inn by the river every day, happily watching the dockside activities. Each afternoon he returned to the library until it closed, at which time he returned to his hotel to write in a diary the findings of the day, to bathe, dress and dine.
His mood swung between confusion that there could be no mention of Oakridge, disappointment, though not surprise, that his father had lied to him and fascination in the lives he touched on. He found the newspapers and periodicals intriguing, frequently wondering at the extent to which the world had changed in such a short time.
Towards the end of his third week of research he was looking through a copy of The London Gazette from 1846 when his eye was caught by the word ‘Oakridge’. Name of Applicant Ernest Vernon Gibson, of Oakridge Court near Brixton on the Isle of Wight in the County of Hampshire, Esquire.
“Oakridge! Look!” Gussie called out to the librarian who hurried across the room to see what had been found.
“It is not in Yorkshire then,” the old man said with some satisfaction.
“I must reluctantly leave you,” Gussie replied. “I am most grateful for your assistance and will be sorry to lose your company but I must go to the Isle of Wight.”
“You will inform me of your progress, won’t you sir? I have become quite tied up in your quest.”
“I will, of course I will.”
But he never did.
*
The next morning, while he sat in the waiting room of York Station with an hour to spare before the train for London would arrive, he leafed through a week-old copy of The Times that had been left on the table.
“ Many times he wondered at the chance. Had he not had so much time on his hands he would not have begun reading the columns of obituaries and had he not read through those he would not have seen one that meant more to him that day than it would any other day of his life. Lacey, William Bernard Lacey of Brixton, Isle of Wight, born the sixth day of July 1822, died twenty-fifth day of August 1878. Father of Bernard, husband to Josephine. Explorer, writer, geologist.
The first time he read the short notice through he concluded that this had to be his father’s brother.
The second time he read it he realised that this William Bernard Lacey was not only born in the same year as his father, 1822, but on the same day.
The third time he read it he regretted not having known his Uncle William. As an ‘explorer, writer, geologist’ it seemed he had been an exceptionally interesting man.
Gussie shook his head. His father had lied to him about the location of Oakridge and now, it appeared, he had also lied about his brother, his twin.
It seemed to Gussie increasingly urgent that he go to the Isle of Wight to see for himself. He would meet his aunt Josephine and his cousin Bernard and he would learn more of his Lacey heritage.
But first he would spend a few days in London. He had been away too long and his wardrobe was in need of better attention than the hotel’s floor butler had been able to provide.
*
He was not expecting to see anyone other than his mother in the house in South Audley Street.
“It’s Colonel and Mrs Swann, sir, with your cousin Miss Lucille,” the butler explained as he opened the door. “They wanted to see the obelisk going up, you know, Cleopatra’s Needle, on the embankment. It’s been quite a shindig. They have just returned and will be in the drawing room shortly. Welcome home, sir.”
An hour later Gussie joined his family. No longer was he the student in the library in York, relaxed as he pored over books and journals; no longer was he the confident visitor to the city, enjoying his ale and pie sitting by the river. He was now Sir Augustus, head of the family, about to play host to his mother’s brother and his wife and, no doubt, to endure the teasing of his cousin.
“Well Sir Augustus, do we have to curtsey to you now?” she asked provocatively, flashing a smile.
“You should always curtsey to your elders and betters,” he answered with a smile.
“Are you any different now you are a baronet?”
“I should hope not, though you have changed.”
“I’ve been in Switzerland for a year. Did you not know? I have spent a year at Chateau Mont Choisi. It is one of those wonderful modern institutions, a ‘finishing school’, where I have learned to be a lady!”
“You have always been a lady, dear,” her mother admonished her gently.
“No she hasn’t, Aunt, she was a horrid little girl for years.”
“Was?”
“You’re certainly not a little girl any more, are you still horrid?” Gussie flirted gently.
It did not go unnoticed by his mother and her sister-in-law that Gussie and Lucille spent much of the evening talking together. The development was not unwelcome to either.
Lady Mary knew her son and her niece well enough to understand that if she pushed the two together they would both dig their heels in, but if they were allowed to believe it was their idea, then, she was happy to give them every opportunity to become interested in each other. It was a most suitable match. Marriage between cousins was entirely acceptable, she told herself. After all was said and done, she told herself, the old Queen had married her first cousin.
“It is the most amazing monument, Gussie, you must go down to the Embankment to see it. And that is amazing too. All that mess is quite cleared away, now there are the most lovely gardens and a bandstand covering the new railway and, I understand, a complex system of sewers and drains.”
“Sewers and drains? What are you talking about child?” her father interrupted.
“I was just telling Gussie about the new Embankment Gardens.”
“You must allow him to escort you so you can show him the attractions.”
Lady Mary gave her brother-in-law a warning look.
“I was going to suggest just that,” Gussie said enthusiastically, any feeling of urgency to begin his visit to the Isle of Wight fast receding.
*
Lucille and Gussie spent more time together than was proper in the remaining days of her visit to London. They did nothing their mothers would have disapproved of, visiting exhibitions and attending concerts always accompanied by at least one older r
elative, but they managed to spend a great deal of the time talking without any risk of being overheard.
On the last evening of their stay at South Audley Street Gussie found himself alone in the drawing room with Colonel Swann. Whether he had manoeuvred himself into that position or been manoeuvred he was afterwards not sure.
“It seems you and my girl have hit it off.”
“We always got on well together as children.”
“But you are children no longer.”
“Indeed not sir, though I am just twenty-one.”
“Too young to settle on one female. Can’t say I don’t like you and can’t think of anyone I’d rather have my Lucille marry.”
“Thank you Colonel, but I—”
“I agree, you are still young, too young to settle.” He noticed the relief on his nephew’s face. “So I have a proposition.”
“Sir?”
“I am to go to South Africa with Lord Chelmsford and I suggest you accompany me as my aide-de-camp. We will be there no longer than a year, two at the most, but you will see something of life and death and when we return I will give you both my blessing. It will give my Lucille time to adjust to her new situation and learn from her Aunt Mary what it is to run a household such as this because, as you know, your mother is anxious to leave London and return to the country where she is so much more comfortable.”
Gussie sat down.
For the past weeks in York he had imagined he was the master of his own destiny, but now he knew that had been an illusion. He was Sir Augustus, head of the family. He had a position, a role to play that was important to others. He could not do as he pleased.
“And Luci?”
“I have spoken to her, of course, and she is very happy. She likes you and, this you will find amusing, she finds you intelligent and interesting! Why a child would think she could make such judgements and why these should be important in the character of a husband I have no idea.” Colonel Swann laughed at the eccentricity of his daughter’s mind. “Next there will be men who wish their wives to be intelligent and interesting.” He slapped Gussie on the back and took some minutes to collect himself.
“Tell me more about the Cape?” Gussie asked, determined not to think too deeply about what it would mean to him to leave England and become a military man.
“The Cape is critical for our route to India. The Zulus are getting above themselves. We need to show strength to secure our territories.”
“Will it mean war?” Gussie had no problem with wearing a uniform and working with soldiers but he had no intention of fighting. He knew he would be no good at that.
“Oh no. Nothing like that. We want restraint and conciliation with the Zulus.
“And the Boers?” Gussie was not completely unaware of the world.
“They know what is good for them and that is peace. The Government doesn’t want war; we have had enough of that in the Crimea and Afghanistan. We will do everything we can to avoid open conflict. I am certain that all we have to do is show the flag and all will be well.”
So it was agreed.
*
The ship carrying Gussie and his uncle docked in Cape Town on the twenty-second of January 1879 and even as Gussie supervised the unloading of their accoutrements sixteen hundred British men were being slaughtered by the Zulus at Isandlwana, and one hundred and fifty British troops were defending the garrison at Rorke’s Drift against forty thousand Zulu warriors.
Gussie accompanied his uncle, now General Swann, as he met with administrators and military men to discover how the government’s instructions for peace and conciliation had come to be so disastrously ignored.
The young man noted down the views expressed by men who knew far more than he. “It will be a conflict quickly over and well worth any losses to gain the land,” some would say. “We have guns they have nothing but spears.” Others commented in agreement that the British and Colonial forces could not lose with their organisation and their superior fighting men and their modern arms. “The Zulus will pay for this.” Even the most conciliatory of the British could not ignore the loss of life at Isandlwana. “We must crush the Zulu nation” was the considered opinion of all right-thinking Englishmen. Although Gussie had always considered himself a peace-loving man he found himself caught up in the nationalistic fervour and was soon persuaded that war was justified as it was important for the peace of the world that Britain was not seen to be vulnerable.
As the war against the Zulu nation progressed Captain Sir Augustus Lacey was kept busy taking notes of interminable meetings, rewriting reports and dealing with the wide-ranging correspondence of General Frederick Swann, but his life was not an uncomfortable one, he had excellent lodgings and ate and drank as well as any. On the few occasions when he was called upon to travel inland he was never near any centres of conflict.
The garrison was only a small part of life in Cape Town as the port was a thriving and increasingly sophisticated trading centre where there was an active social life for a young and highly eligible single man. Gussie, with his friend Iain McFarlane, were much in demand at the frequent dinners, receptions and balls held by the wives of the senior officers and the richer merchants, especially if they had daughters who were unmarried.
Through the few evenings he was at home Gussie occupied himself reading the letters he received from Lucille which told of how she was learning the arts of running a household in preparation for making him a good wife, and how she longed for his return. His replies contained long descriptions of the weather and of the coast. He wrote of seeing birds that could not fly and fish that leapt from the sea but he wrote nothing of his work. He could not tell Lucille of the seemingly endless pages of details of the missing and the dead and the diseased that he had to copy for despatch to the War Office. He was too aware that every name he copied represented a mother’s son and a sweetheart’s love. He could not write that the British army was finding that the Zulus were brave and resourceful fighters. Nor could he write that the main threat to British success was disease and that on many days the words ‘enteric fever’ and ‘dysentery’ were far more common in his reports than ‘killed in action’.
As Gussie wrote the names which would be published in The London Gazette he would sometimes remember his weeks of research in York, but thoughts of following up on his family on the Isle of Wight seemed frivolous as the months wore on and the casualty lists grew longer.
*
It was two years before Gussie felt able to broach the subject of his future with his uncle.
“Are we to return soon? The native problems appear resolved.”
“Return?” General Swann asked
“To England. Home.”
“Aren’t you having the time of your life here, young man? I hear you are the catch of the season.”
“You tease me, sir. I am no catch. I am already caught.”
“You still hanker after my Luci?”
“I do, sir. I would like now to return and take up my life in England. Our original arrangement was just for two years was it not, sir?”
“It was, but the army does not always manage to do as it is told.”
“You mean I may not return?”
Seeing the look of fright on his nephew’s face General Swann relented.
“Of course you are free to go whenever you wish. I am only surprised it has taken you so long to raise the subject. The Colony settles down and it is possible to argue that our work here is done. Where are we now? Yes, nearly March. We must be away before the winter so you will arrange passage leaving, say, May? We will arrive splendidly for the summer in England.”
*
Their voyage back to England should have taken two months but it soon became obvious to the Captain of their transport that there was so much sickness on board they would have to put in at St Helena.
They were not scheduled to interrupt their voyage to Portsmouth by diverting to the island of Napoleon Bonaparte’s exile but already the bodies of fiftee
n men had been consigned to the sea, all dead of a fever, and the Captain believed their fresh water supply to be contaminated. Nothing would do but they divert to Jamestown and refresh their stores.
“We will be two weeks or more later home,” General Swann said to his nephew as they stood on the deck watching another funeral.
“Better for us to be late than for those who will never make it.” Three canvas-wrapped bodies were tipped into the South Atlantic as the captain intoned the all-too-familiar words of the burial at sea.
“You had a lucky escape yourself Gussie.”
“So I understand. I cannot recall much but I am completely recovered now.”
“You had good care.”
“Only because I’m lucky enough to be an officer.”
“None of this nonsense. That we are treated as officers and gentlemen is just as it should be.”
“And we deserve to live more than those who cannot aspire to being gentlemen?”
“I will not deign to answer. We have our place in society, and that place will always dictate that we deserve, and we receive, better than men of lower standing.”
“That is something I have often wondered about. Where do I come from? I know nothing of my family.”
General Frederick Swann had lived in the same house as his father and several generations before. He had a complete sense of his ancestors whose portraits, going back to Tudor times, lined the staircase in his house. He had no understanding of Gussie’s insecurities.
“You are as much Swann as Lacey. If your father said nothing of his family there will have been a reason. Leave it be. That would be my advice.”
Gussie looked out at the turquoise water and the shoals of flying fish, trying not to think of anything but the beauty of the sea.
“Lucille will be pleased to see you, young man, especially as she is alone now her mother has passed away. She is in the care of your mother but would sooner be in the care of a husband. There is no need to delay things for an excessive period of mourning. That’s if you feel the same after this time apart?” His words seemed to Gussie to be almost a question.
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