Pretentious Hearts

by M J Schlotter

  Chapter17

  Robert smelled the briny sea air as the wind whipped his face. His ship was part of a convoy out patrolling the Channel. So far the morning had been quiet. It was the quiet, however, that caused a sense of uneasiness to pass over him. Nothing good ever came from quiet, at least not in a war.

  “Hey, Clifton, want a smoke?” Captain Wesley asked coming to stand beside him.

  “No, I’m fine, thanks though,” He replied.

  “It’s awfully quiet this morning,” Wesley muttered drawing on his cigarette.

  “My thoughts exactly,” Robert echoed, “Something just doesn’t feel right.”

  “Captain! Captain!”

  “Yes, sailor what is it?”

  “An enemy vessel has just been spotted! Captains Jones and Tackett sent a command that your ship join them in pursuit.”

  Captain Wesley threw his cigarette into the sea. “Shit! Message them back, tell them to hold off. There’s only one vessel? It has to be a decoy, a trap! If we pursue, we’ll be playing right into their hands!”

  A few minutes later the sailor returned. “Captain, they sent ‘disregard admonition, more experience and age. Ordered to pursue.”

  “Damn them!”Wesley roared, “I will not lead this vessel into a trap! That ship is a decoy that will lead us straight into the torpedoes of one of the German Navy’s infernal hell hounds! Message them back, ‘No damn it, it’s a bloody trap!’ quickly man!”

  Robert and Captain Wesley watched as Captains Jones and Tackett’s ships began breaking away. Wesley continued to swear. Everything happened so fast. The explosions, the flames, the smoke!

  “There! Straight ahead! Quick! Get the guns loaded! Ready men, aim, fire!”Wesley yelled.

  Smoke and flames erupted all around him. Robert heard the screams of men beside him, and saw some go flying overboard as bullets ricocheted, tearing through their bodies. The stench of smoldering flesh and hair mixed with petrol made his nose burn, but he grabbed his gun, and cocking it, fired at the enemy vessel knowing his attempts were in vain. Wesley! He shouted through the barrage. Before he could shout another word, he felt a sharp pain searing his arm. Sputtering, he lifted his hand and found it was smeared with steaming blood, his blood! Everything was going black, he heard the yell to abandon ship. He was going to die!

  Robert awoke, cold sweat drenching his chest. He gasped for breath. Tracing the scar on his shoulder he took a deep breath, his nightmare had been so real, so vivid. Getting out of bed, his hands shaking, he ran his fingers through his hair as he paced the bedroom. Yes, he had been shot in the arm and Captain Wesley’s leg had been wounded by shrapnel, but their ship had not sunk. They had survived. Captain Wesley had spotted the U-boat that had attacked the other ships and they had sunk it, his mind repeated. The other ships they had been sailing with, he recalled somberly, had not been so lucky. The anguished cries, burning flesh, floating bodies and sinking vessels were visions that continued to torment him.

  He needed a distraction. Walking to the large mahogany desk that stood against one of the walls, he pulled out a pen and sheet of paper. He had finally decided to start writing political essays again for The Times. Morning was not far off, so if he could pen some of his thoughts now, then he might be able to clear his mind and escape the images which had awoken him. As he wrote, his mind did clear, and it was as he put down his pen and went to stand at his window that Robert felt relieved. It was finally morning, the torture of night was over.

  Gazing out from the glass, he watched the sun just beginning to rise above the emerald peaks, its rays spreading like golden harp strings over the fields. As he turned away from the window to return to his desk, something caught his eye. He looked back out through the glass and saw long red curls whipping wildly as their owner twirled in a circle with a basket in hand. Katie had been avoiding him now for the past few weeks, ever since her burning words had spurned him, but why should he care about that? Yes, it made keeping tabs on her movements more difficult, but spying on her in case she made contact with I.R.A. members was not the real reason he felt annoyed and betrayed was it? If Katie’s pride and arrogance made her feel she was too good to speak to him, then she was just like all the other shallow snobs he had met back home and not different like he had come to believe! Yet as Robert walked back to his desk, the image of her dancing in her white muslin dress made him remember the story of the Lord Lieutenant’s daughter and the fisherman’s son. Damn! He thought, why must she continue to invade his mind and infiltrate his thoughts!

  At breakfast, Robert learned what had been in Katie’s basket, fresh blueberries she had picked early that morning. Now, sprinkling them on his oatmeal, he turned his gaze to the newspaper.

  Chapter 18

  At twenty-nine, Charles Wesley was one of the youngest captains in the Royal Navy. He had patrolled the English Channel destroying German U-Boats towards the end of the war, lost two of his brothers in Flanders Field, and seen too many good men lose their lives. Having received Robert’s letters about sympathizers of the Irish rebellion, his suspicions that his cook was possibly involved with the I.R.A., and now having read his letter about the incident regarding the English merchant ships, Charles was convinced Robert might be getting in over his head. If anything happened to Lord Clifton, he would never forgive himself!

  He had read Robert’s first political essay since the war in The Times, and was now even more determined not to let his friend, who had so much to live for, waste his life and talents or continue to be in peril with the increasing hostilities in Ireland. He had been wrong to send him there. No! He was going to bring his friend back into existence and make him see that life was worth living again. It was with this notion in mind, that Captain Wesley entered one of the more prominent dining establishments along Bond Street. The fashionable road was home to numerous shops selling luxurious wares and was a locale, that before the war, he was quite sure he would not have frequented.

  As he entered the door, he spotted a young woman settled at one of the tables by the window sipping a glass of wine as she perused the menu. Captain Wesley walked towards her, and upon reaching the table the young woman looked up.

  “Ah, Charles,” she smiled extending her hand. “I was wondering when you were going to arrive. I took the liberty of ordering you a scotch.” She remarked as Captain Wesley ever so lightly brushed the top of her hand with his lips.

  “Why Lady Shelby,” Captain Wesley grinned removing his sports jacket and taking a seat. “You know me too well.”

  “Charles, how many times must I tell you to call me Jocelyn.” Lady Shelby cooed taking a sip from her glass.

  “At least one more time,” Captain Wesley teased sipping his scotch. “Jocelyn, I must say you look rather lovely this afternoon.”

  “Oh, really, Charles, in this old outfit,” Jocelyn spoke in feigned modesty as she straightened her blue velvet hat and ran a hand across the lap of her afternoon tea dress, fetching in its French wool serge and blue silk vestee.

  “I do believe the last time I saw you, you were wearing your Red Cross uniform, which you looked beautiful in as well.” Charles grinned.

  “Enough flattery.” Jocelyn smiled coyly. “Let us get down to business shall we. When we spoke on the telephone, you said it was a matter of earnestness.”

  Captain Wesley placed his glass on the coaster in front of him leaving his arm resting on the table. “It is truly a matter of earnest. You see,” he spoke in all seriousness, “It pertains to what I’m sure will be a most dismal fate for my good friend if I do not intervene.”

  “I see,” Jocelyn spoke full of curiosity as she placed her elbows on the table and leaned in to the conversation. “Pray, do continue who is this mysterious friend?”

  Captain Wesley chuckled knowing he had Jocelyn’s full attention. Jocelyn was a beautiful woman, but he knew that even though she had been changed by the war, Lady Shelby was still only attracted to those with titles and wealth, none of which he possessed. He cou
ldn't fault her for it, it was after all the society she had been brought up in. Even so, it was sad to think that she would never give him or anyone like him a second glance. He was rather attractive and quite the catch he laughed to himself, but he knew he was forever in her friend category, a category he did not altogether mind being in though, for she was a charming acquaintance.

  “My friend,” Charles continued, “Robert, you might know him better as Lord Robert Clifton,” he added catching the bewilderment in Jocelyn’s blue eyes, “has decided that he is going to sell his estate of Evanshire to become an expat and live in America.”

  “No!” Jocelyn exhaled in horror. “But he is one of England’s most eligible bachelors. We must not let this happen!”

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” Captain Wesley spoke.

  “What do you propose?” Jocelyn inquired, her eyes twinkling brightly.

  “We must get him to see that life is worth living even after the atrocities he saw during the war. We must help him be happy again. So what I propose, is that we visit him in his Irish manor where he is hiding out.” Captain Wesley concluded. He couldn’t tell Jocelyn that he was also starting to worry about Robert’s safety and that he was responsible for sending him there.

  “Oh,” Jocelyn smiled mischievously, “I can make him see life is worth living again. Cheers, Charles,” she spoke raising her glass, “to rescuing the dashing Lord Clifton and saving him from a lifetime of ruin and bachelorhood.”

  Captain Wesley raised his glass and as they ordered lunch, he proceeded to tell Jocelyn more about his proposed arrangements. When he finally left the restaurant, Captain Wesley felt that Jocelyn and he had devised a plan that would undoubtedly help Robert see reason again. He would write Robert securing their visit, and then they would depart as soon as they were able. Jocelyn had requested they invite her friend, Miss Emma Williamson, whom she had worked at the Red Cross with during the war. Charles was not opposed to this suggestion, for he found Miss Williamson to be a quite charming young woman, and after Jocelyn had introduced them to one another at the field hospital, he found that he rather enjoyed her company.

  Now, he thought as he reached the steps to his flat, it was all up to him to arrange their visit. Once inside, he settled down at his desk and pulled a sheet of paper and pen out from the drawer. He had decided that he would not mention Lady Shelby or Miss Williamson by name, but rather request that he and two friends come and pay Robert a visit. If he included the young women by name, he knew without a doubt that Robert would guess that he was up to something and not consent to their visit. Charles had never really considered himself one for match-making, for it had always seemed to be something left to the likes of females, but Robert’s apathy for self and for country called for drastic measures. As he finished penning his thoughts for his telegram, he lay the paper flat on the desk. First thing tomorrow, he would head to the office and have it posted. Then all that was left to do was wait for Robert’s reply, and if no reply came he decided, shaking his head in a military manner, Captain Wesley was prepared to invade Robert’s solitude.

  ◆◆◆

  Sitting on the patio, Robert opened the telegram Dearing had delivered. As he quickly read its contents, a small smile spread across his face. “It seems,” he chuckled, “that Captain Wesley never had the intention of letting me escape life for long.” He knew Charles’s excuse to help him observe the atmosphere was merely that, an excuse. An excuse to provide Charles with the opportunity to try and talk reason into him. Folding the telegram up and slipping it into his breast pocket, he drained his glass of orange juice then set off to find Mrs. Sparrow to begin making the arrangements.

  Captain Wesley’s telegram had requested that he and two friends pay him a visit. Robert had no idea who would he accompanying Charles, but wagered a guess it would most likely be other military officials keeping tabs on Ireland. He was determined, however, to keep the visit both business and social, because he was not in the mood to continue the argument that had landed him here. If Charles was bringing backup in the hopes of persuading him to permanently continue his espionage, Captain Wesley was not going to be successful.

  “Ah, Mrs. Sparrow, just the woman I have been looking for.” Robert spoke catching sight of his housekeeper.

  “Lord Clifton, what is it I can do for you sir?” Mrs. Sparrow asked setting down her duster.

  “It seems we shall be entertaining company.” Robert remarked, with a hint of enthusiasm Mrs. Sparrow was happy to hear in his voice.

  “Captain Wesley, and two companions, shall will be arriving in a couple of days.” Robert continued.

  “Why that is excellent news sir!” Mrs. Sparrow replied, her voice cheery. “I will inform Katie so she can begin planning meals.”

  It was while she was busy cleaning up from breakfast, that Mrs. Sparrow had entered the kitchen and Katie had learned that Lord Clifton would be expecting house guests at the end of the week. It had not seemed her place to ask the housekeeper who would be arriving, so it was now as she carefully started planning the courses for his company, that Katie allowed her mind to wander upon who might be arriving. Lords and Ladies often visited each other she mused, would a king or queen pay a visit to members of nobility as well? Humming, she imagined what it would be like to entertain a member of the royal family. She had never seen a king or queen before, though in light of the growing hostilities between Ireland and England, she doubted Lord Clifton would be entertaining royalty.

  It did not matter though, she concluded forcing her mind back to the present task of creating menus, Lord Clifton could entertain whomever he wished. He was renting Kerney Hall after all and had every right to invite visitors. If anything, she breathed, having additional company might alleviate the tension that had settled upon the house after her confrontation with him. Yes, Katie thought, company would be a welcome breath of fresh air.

  As Robert tread past the kitchen, he stopped abruptly, his nose entranced by the wonderful aroma wafting from within. He was just about to walk through the door when he regained his senses. No matter how heavenly her cooking, Katie was no angel. She was more like an imp or some Irish leprechaun he thought, and he was done letting her play her games or cast her spells upon him. No, if he never spoke to her again it would not bother him. Katie was nothing more than a snobbish woman who had made it perfectly clear what she thought of him and his fellow countrymen. She was part of the I.R.A., he was convinced, and from the conversation he had overheard at the pub, he knew a local branch of Collins’s supporters was forming. Katie might very well be in cahoots with them already he thought bitterly. It was his duty to remain objective and report her every action to Captain Wesley. As Robert continued to traipse away, however, he could not ignore the empty feeling aching within his heart.

  Chapter 19

  The day the guests were due finally arrived. Mrs. Sparrow had been up since dawn making last minute preparations to the guest rooms upstairs, and now after ordering Katie to get the dining room table set and have individual copies of menus prepared for each meal, she whirled around the manor; a maniac armed with a duster daring anyone to get in her way. Katie, trying to stay clear of the housekeeper’s wake, set the china on top of the freshly laundered tablecloth, and hastily glanced at the clock. The hour of the mystery guests had arrived. No sooner had this thought flashed across her mind, then she heard the sound of an automobile roaring up the drive. Going over to the window, she saw Robert, no she corrected herself, Lord Clifton shaking hands and patting the back of a tall sandy haired gentleman in a gray pinstripe suit and matching hat.

  As she peered out the window, Katie ignored the twinge in her heart. She had not seen Lord Clifton for weeks. She had done everything in her power to avoid him, forcing herself to stay in the kitchen and escape out the back door when she needed to get out of the house. Lord Clifton’s own lack of presence had made it apparent that he desired to avoid her as well. But seeing him now, his short brown curls being snagged by the bre
eze as he chatted with the man who had just arrived, made Katie feel like a horrible person. Why had she been so cruel with her words the last time they had spoken? She quickly schooled herself, for she knew that the tone in which they had been delivered and the words she uttered had to be spoken. Lord Clifton must be made to see that by staying in Ireland his safety was in peril.

  Katie was pulled from her thoughts as the stranger opened the passenger door and extended his hand. A woman’s hand flew gracefully into the outstretched hand of the gentleman, and then Katie saw a beautiful woman emerge from the vehicle. Dressed in a matching olive green traveling jacket and skirt, everything from the woman’s soft white button up boots to her dark brown bobbed hair peeking out from beneath her matching hat, declared elegance. Katie looked down at her own appearance suddenly feeling self conscious. She was a fool to even think Lord Clifton might have had any interest in her.

  Before Katie had time to further contemplate her employer’s intentions or who the woman might be, out stepped another woman even more startling in beauty. Wearing a sunhat, the woman’s long blonde tresses cascaded down her shoulders and shimmered like a golden waterfall in the sunlight. She was dressed in a soft pink skirt with matching jacket, and as she extended her gloved hand, Katie had the strange inclination she needed to courtesy. She watched as Robert, taking her delicate hand into his own, raised it to his lips and kissed it.

  Pulling the curtains over the window, Katie roughly laid the silverware on the place settings. She knew she had no right to be jealous, Robert-Lord Clifton- was not in any kind of understanding with her. Even if she had developed feelings for him, which she most certainly had not, she and Lord Clifton were in entirely different leagues. Besides, she had done a pretty good job of ruining her chances with him anyway since she had purposely called him arrogant and then avoided him to force him to leave. What was wrong with her! An English nobleman would not think twice about an Irish commoner, and she should not be thinking twice about him! Yet, he had been coming out of his shell... she had seen a kindness within his eyes...he had been sharing bits and pieces of the person he was...he had seemed interested in spending time with her...but none of this mattered! For, she knew that in his eyes, she had betrayed him and acted a snob. She had spurned him and his pride and would never be forgiven. Even if she had not acted in order to and keep him safe, she knew far too well she was not good enough for him a small voice softly reminded. She would never be on the same level as the ladies who had just arrived, and to think otherwise was fatuous.