The Longest Winter

by Mary Jane Staples

  ‘James?’ she said apprehensively.

  ‘Is that you, Sophie?’ He smiled. He was darkly tanned and quite immaculate in his tails. ‘Shame on you to look as beautiful as this. I’m stunned speechless.’

  ‘But, James,’ she said, ‘I am only engaged once, so I did not want to look as if it was an ordinary occasion. I think it very auspicious and had to do my best to look auspicious myself. I will do?’

  ‘You’ll do for an emperor,’ said James. He took her hand, bent his head and kissed her fingertips. Her eyes laughed at him. He gave her a wink and she sensed the fun they could get out of life together. ‘Yes, my most auspicious Sophie.’

  ‘Oh, my hero,’ she countered demurely. She greeted Major Moeller, who had had the tact to stand well aside.

  ‘My dear Sophie,’ he said and kissed her hand with precise gallantry. ‘I think you have James reeling a little. I’m past the worst weaknesses of youth myself, but all the same I am dazzled, by heaven I am. I’ve congratulated James. May I now give you my felicitations?’

  ‘I shall be very happy,’ said Sophie, and the major kissed her on each cheek. ‘Thank you, dear Major Moeller. Will you take me to some champagne? I wish to become a little giddy.’

  They all drank champagne. Anne, in sheerest sky blue, was happy for James, blissful for Sophie and contented with herself. Her mother, in white, competed with her daughters for charm. Helene, pink-clad, was in a flutter, talking excitedly to Carl about a war. Carl took her aside and explained cordially but clearly that the evening belonged to Sophie and James, not to any war. He understood her flutters but would she kindly make happier contributions to the conversation? Breathlessly Helene said she would talk only about the very nicest things.

  But there were underlying tensions which neither the champagne nor the most cheerful conversation could quite dispel. The Austrian ultimatum to Serbia had been received. It virtually asked Serbia to skin herself alive. The speculative newspaper leaders had become messages of warning. However, dinner brightened the atmosphere. The two hanging chandeliers glittered with reflected light and the wine glasses sparkled with reflected colour. No one mentioned the ultimatum and no one suggested the baron’s absence had anything to do with imminent war. The baroness did not want the occasion marred for Sophie and James, and in any case she had the compassionate woman’s wishful belief that it was the responsibility of statesmen to avoid war, not to provoke it. However, the champagne aperitifs and now the dinner wine flushed Ludwig into indiscretion. He was as intrigued as his sister about the probable war and was bursting with a thousand unspoken words. Visibly more in love with Anne each day, he so far forgot himself in wanting to claim her attention that he suddenly put the cat among the pigeons by mentioning the ultimatum.

  ‘And I hear,’ he went on with cheerful excitement, ‘that it’s not a question of the emperor deciding if we’re to go to war, but when.’

  The ensuing silence was like a dull thud. It had been for Sophie’s sake, the drawn veil, and she perceptibly paled as Ludwig pulled it aside. Anne saw the look on James’s face, the tightening of his mouth, and her heart sank. She had adventured dangerously with James, he had won her lifelong affection during those hazardous hours, and nothing had delighted her more than his engagement to her sister. She saw now what he felt a war might do to him and Sophie. He was a man racked.

  Major Moeller lifted his wine glass and regarded its amber contents fondly.

  ‘My boy,’ he said to Ludwig, ‘it’s hardly as clear-cut as that, is it? I trust statesmen will see the wisdom of honourable compromise and continue to ensure life remains pleasantly undisturbed for some of us and improves for the rest. Anything else would interfere abominably with wandering comfortably about to call on friends or to find some decent fishing. Baroness, I can’t say how happy I am to be counted among your friends here tonight. Really, I am honoured. And I am warmed by the special significance the occasion has for Sophie and James.’

  ‘To have you with us is a privilege, Major Moeller,’ said the baroness gratefully, and Ludwig reddened as Anne gave him a reproachful look. And James wondered sadly if the burying of heads in sand was because they too suspected, as Maude did, that the war would go far beyond a conflict between Austria and Serbia.

  ‘This trout is heavenly,’ said the major.

  Sophie, recovering, said with a smile, ‘Oh, but you have never sampled James’s sizzling picnic sausage. That is ambrosial.’

  ‘Fit for the gods,’ said Carl.

  James managed a smile. But he was quiet. Sophie noticed it and said desperate little prayers to herself. He had contributed hardly anything to the conversation, which was unlike him. She glanced at him. He was so sober.

  ‘James, you aren’t worried, are you?’ she whispered. ‘Please don’t be.’

  ‘I’m looking for bones,’ he said lightly, dissecting his trout. But he was badly worried. Maude’s latest observation had contained an indirect warning. Much as it would break her heart, for she loved Vienna, she said, she must seriously consider looking out her passport. Her return to England might be unavoidable.

  The baron arrived at last. Entering the dining room he expressed sincere apologies to his family and guests for being so late and for his unsuitable dress. He looked tired and drawn.

  ‘You’re here, Papa,’ said Anne, ‘that’s enough.’

  ‘Ernst, we’re halfway through,’ said the baroness, ‘but if you wish—’

  ‘I need nothing except what is to follow,’ said the baron, taking his place at the table. A servant filled his glass. ‘I only hope James and our other friends don’t think me entirely negligent. Perhaps half a host, as it were, is not as discourteous as none at all.’

  ‘Honoured,’ said the major.

  ‘Papa, we are so pleased to see you,’ said Sophie.

  The baron smiled at her, then at James. James thought there was sadness in his eyes. At the end of the meal the baron rose to his feet. He waited until all glasses had been refilled.

  ‘My dear family and friends,’ he said then, ‘there are times when a few words have to be said. I hope those I am going to say will not stretch into too many. I’ve heard many fifteen-minute speeches last an hour. We are here, aren’t we, in honour of Sophie and James. The evening, I think, is an occasion to be happy for them. Between them, among other things, is compatibility.’ He paused, then went on quietly but firmly. ‘That is a hard-won state in the relationship between any man and woman. Some fail, but many do achieve it. Their example should guide nations, for between nations there must be a like compatibility. That is what nations owe people. That is what Austria and Britain owe Sophie and James. Sophie I regard as a treasure.’ His smile for her was tender. Sophie’s eyes moistened. ‘James I regard as a valiant protector of that treasure. Their engagement I announce with warm pleasure. You will all join me, I’m sure, in wishing peace for them, in wishing a long and full life to them.’ He raised his glass and his smile hid his sadness. ‘My dearest Sophie, my very good friend James.’

  ‘Sophie! James!’ The table rose to them and drank to them. A speech was demanded from James. He stood up. Sophie, in emotion, took his hand and pressed it to her cheek. It brought tears to Anne’s eyes.

  ‘Baron, Baroness, and my friends, thank you,’ said James. He knew he must say nothing about nations or peace, for the baron had said enough in his own quiet way, and to mention peace again would be an indirect reference to war. His words must be for Sophie, of Sophie. ‘I agree,’ he said, ‘Sophie is a treasure. Quite priceless, quite unique. I don’t admit to being biased, I do admit to being convinced. Sophie is able to enrich my life merely by being there, by her words and her poetry. If my voice ever fails me I’ll borrow hers and inherit the earth. And I promise you that wherever we may be, Sophie will never fail Austria. Where she is there goes Austria. I’m afraid incoherency comes next, so if I may I’d like to take Sophie into the garden. I’ve not seen the garden at night. I should like to now, with Sophie. Thank you.’r />
  Sophie clung to his arm as they went down the paved steps into the garden, illuminated by lights from the house.

  ‘James, if you are afraid of incoherency,’ she said, ‘I’m afraid of being almost ready to cry.’

  ‘Your father was very impressive,’ said James. He realized the baron knew what might happen.

  The night was balmy. The Modena Palace was ablaze with chandeliered fire and Vienna itself seemed roofed by a million lamps. Sophie, a silk wrap around her shoulders, turned to James, wanting to be held. But James was looking at the lights that were like fire. He was so serious. Familiar little apprehensions darted at her. But she said in her lightest way, ‘Well, that was our engagement party, you know. I suppose we can say it’s almost out of the way now. James, next month is suitable, isn’t it? For our wedding, I mean. I must tell you, I’m quite nervous about it, I haven’t had one before. But if we get married together, which is the usual thing, we should be a great help to each other, shouldn’t we?’

  James, knowing he was coming up to the worst and most unbearable moment of his life, wondered exactly what to say.

  ‘Sophie, I’m not sure—’

  ‘No, James, no,’ she said, her forced lightness departing, ‘you have proposed to me, I have accepted, we are firmly engaged and shall be firmly married. Please don’t say we can’t or shouldn’t. We must get married, even if there is a war, and if there is then I should need you more than ever. James, I was speaking to Carl. He has mentioned to you what we might do, live here for a while, hasn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, he mentioned it, Sophie.’

  ‘Darling, that would be very practical, wouldn’t it, and you are sometimes in favour of being practical, aren’t you?’ There was a little desperation about her, the light from the house a pale glow on her face, the jewels like fireflies in her hair. ‘We could be married very quietly, I should not mind a bit, and we could live here with the family until it was all over and go to England then. James, do you think that a good idea? It isn’t what we planned, but we should be married and that would be rather nice, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Sophie, my sweet,’ he said. She put herself against him, he held her and felt her shivers. ‘I must say things. Listen very carefully. You know, don’t you, that Austria is determined to go to war with Serbia.’

  ‘No. Oh, yes. But that has nothing to do with you and me.’ She lifted her face and the apprehension was in her eyes. ‘James, you are not saying, are you, that you will join our army and go to war yourself?’

  ‘Please listen,’ he said gently. ‘When Austria goes to war with Serbia, Russia will go to war with Austria. Germany will fight in support of Austria. France will fight in support of Russia. Then the whole of Europe will go up in flames. Don’t you read your newspapers, Sophie?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘yes, but not politics, not wars. Politics and wars are the enemies of civilization, the enemies of people. James, what are you trying to tell me?’

  ‘Sophie.’ He drew her close. She was a brilliance in the warm night but her body was cold. ‘Sophie, my sweet, I’m trying to tell you I may have to go home.’

  ‘Home? To Edinburgh? To Warwickshire?’

  ‘We live in Warwickshire because my father’s main works are there. I may be forced to return there. Do you understand, Sophie?’

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘no.’ She wondered if he knew what he was doing to her.

  ‘I think if you spoke to your father he’d explain all the implications to you, I think he knows precisely what they might amount to. If I go—’

  ‘You mean to run away? From me? You would let our war make you do that to me?’ Sophie thought she would go out of her mind at such cruelty.

  ‘I shouldn’t go to get away from you, Sophie. But Austria might not want me here.’

  She stared up into his dark, sombre eyes and the summer night suddenly became icy cold. Like a shaft of freezing light the truth pierced her.

  ‘Never,’ she gasped, ‘never! You couldn’t! You would never dare to jilt me like that. If the emperor chooses to quarrel with Serbia, what is that to do with others, with Russia or Germany? Or with your country? Oh, but yes, if there’s a war England would hate to be left out, she’ll interfere as she always does and drag Scotland in with her. She’ll do the least fighting and get the most spoils. Well, the emperor can manage without you or your England or your Scotland—’

  ‘Dear heaven, Sophie,’ he said desperately, ‘don’t you see? If France goes to war against Germany and Austria, Britain won’t fight France, if she fights at all.’

  That was the truth that had pierced her, the truth she had tried to reject with her anguished rejoinder. The appalling implication of what it meant engulfed her in pain.

  ‘You’d go to war against us?’ Shivering from head to foot, Sophie could hardly get the words out. ‘You’d shoot at me?’

  ‘For God’s sake—’

  ‘Only men could and would think in such terms! And you are worse than all of them, yes, worse, worse!’ She was crying in her pain. ‘You wished me to listen and I am listening, and you are talking about killing people who have been your friends, you are talking about going to war against me! Carl is as good as dead already, because what chance would he have against you? Oh, yes, you’ll be heroic again, won’t you? They’ll decorate you for bombarding Vienna, killing my family and destroying me, because that is what you will do if you leave me and go to war against me.’

  ‘Sophie, Sophie.’ James understood her anguish. He shared it.

  ‘Will you do that, will you?’ She had torn herself from him, she stood icy and trembling, her head up, her eyes wetly glittering.

  ‘How can I answer such a question as that? If I go back home it will be because events make it impossible for me to stay. Sophie, do you really imagine—’

  ‘You have said enough.’ She spoke through shivering teeth. She felt herself already destroyed. ‘I will say goodbye now, then. I have been very stupid, I have behaved like an infatuated girl. But I thought you loved me. You are like most men, aren’t you? They love war better than any woman. I would have gone with you anywhere, I would have loved you, I would not have given you up for a thousand wars. I would not do that now. You are an iron hero, an iron Mars, a destroyer. I know now why you waited that day for Ferenac. You preferred war with him to riding back to Ilidze with me. Yes, I have been very stupid. I wish only one kindness from you now, and that is that you spare me the pain of seeing you again, whatever happens, whether there is a war or not.’

  ‘Sophie,’ he said, bitterly sad, ‘you are wrong. I understand what makes you say these things. But you are wrong. Listen to me a little more.’

  ‘No. No. No!’ She turned, she ran. She entered the house in a rush and looked as if she could not see, as if the night had blinded her. She was white and she was so cold.

  ‘Sophie, darling.’ Her mother came smiling. The smile slipped as she saw Sophie’s face and tragic eyes.

  ‘I’m going up to bed,’ said Sophie in a strange, wild voice, ‘I’ve said goodbye to James. Please ask the others to forgive me.’

  James took his departure a little later in an atmosphere strained and uncomfortable. He said nothing of his quarrel with Sophie. He was simply unable to. He and Major Moeller left together. They did not call a cab. They walked. It was not so late and Vienna was still dancing, still strung with gold and yellow lamps.

  ‘Bear up, James,’ said the major, concerned at his friend’s silence, ‘I know what’s on your mind. It’s on mine too. But it can’t come to that. Damn it, there must be a few, wise men able to argue the hotheads out of it. It’s unacceptable, the thought of friends going to war in this day and age. We’ve progressed since it was considered an honour to cut each other’s heads off. My dear boy, don’t think of idiots, think of men of wisdom. And think of Sophie. Never knew a more attractive girl, or a more entertaining one. Fine family. Splendid people. Some schnapps at my place, eh? Do, my dear James, Sophie’s worth drinking to, what?
Damn all fools, my boy, I’d like to see you and Sophie left in peace to enjoy life, and it is enjoyable if idiots can be taught not to interfere.’

  ‘Let’s try your schnapps,’ said James, ‘nobody’s likely to interfere with that.’

  They had their schnapps. The major had it because he liked drinking with James. James had it because of Sophie, because it was only the schnapps which helped blur the memory of her anguished eyes and bitter voice.

  They parted at the major’s door in the early hours, when Vienna was brooding on its way to grey dawn. James was a little foggy but still upright.

  ‘Something’s not quite steady around here,’ murmured the major with confidential bonhomie, ‘damn place moving about, I think. But we’ll both get home on our feet, eh?’

  ‘You are home,’ said James, painful reality taking second place for the moment to alcoholic melancholy.

  ‘Eh? So I am, so I am. Fortunate, that. Always lucky with the spin of the coin, you know. Always lucky in the friends I’ve had. Never got on with politicians. Think more of you than any of them. Don’t forget that. God in heaven, James, they’re trying to pull the carpet from under our feet. You know what I mean?’

  ‘Yes,’ said James, ‘I do know.’

  They shook hands very solemnly.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Serbian reply to the ultimatum conveyed total surrender. But such unconditional compliance was quite unwelcome to Count Berchtold, who wished Austria to launch the war from a platform of high and unmitigated dudgeon. Serbia’s failure to reject the ultimatum changed that to a platform of plain opportunity. The assassination had provided the opportunity and Count Berchtold was not going to be circumvented. It was not unreasonable to assert that Serbia would default on her promise of full reparations, and Austria, therefore, must act in anticipation of this.