Scarlet Shadows

by Elizabeth Darrell

  “Just like that?”

  “Yes. You can find your own way out.”

  Hugo banged his glass down angrily. “Do you intend making no attempt at reconciliation?”

  “I see no reason why I should.”

  “Dammit, man, we shall be riding together into battle. It is an impossible situation, not only from a personal viewpoint but a regimental one. You are my senior officer.”

  “As to that, I shall perform my duties meticulously — as I shall with every officer beneath my command. I do not need a personal relationship with them in order to do it. In the future, you will receive nothing from me that any other man cannot expect.”

  Hugo’s temper flared. “I want nothing from you. I shall fight this war on my own merit, and you can go to hell.”

  Charles gave a grim smile. “I shall find you already there. You will never last out a campaign for all your mock heroics. Look at you now — wild, irrational speech, a complete lack of self-control. I pity the men under your leadership. Their self-proclaimed hero will turn out to be nothing more than a fancy jockey when put to the test.”

  “You will live to take that back,” said Hugo through his teeth. “You like your pound of flesh, Charles.”

  “When it is my lawful due.”

  Hugo had no answer to that and lost some of his anger in a return of remorse. He pushed his fingers through the unruly hair in a gesture of helplessness. “Is there nothing to be saved between us? We had a bond that I believed immortal — a bond that has lasted twenty-eight years. Father is right. Who knows what lies ahead? Do we not owe it to them to make some attempt at understanding? Are you prepared to face the enemy swords with this between us?”

  “You ask me that after robbing me of everything I held dear for my future?” challenged Charles coldly. “A bond, you say. Where was that bond when you set your covetous eyes upon my wife? Where was it when you took her and my unborn son careering across the countryside in a gig, performing a downhill race only an insane man or a puffed-up fool would contemplate? There never was such a bond on your part or you would have regarded it as sacred.”

  Hugo rubbed his eyes wearily. “Do you think I am not aware of the consequences of my actions that day? Everything I did was for the best, I swear. Do you think I have not also suffered these past six months? There were days when the utter isolation nearly defeated me — you were responsible for sending me there — and my conscience plagued me the whole time. Do you think I have not said if only so many times that it has made my head spin? Charles, do you think I have not wished over and over again it had been anyone but my own brother? In twenty-eight years you must know me well enough for that.”

  “I was your brother when you began to covet my wife.”

  “And I left immediately. Dear God, you know only too well I did.”

  “It was the coward’s way out — I told you so at the time. I believed you were man enough to master it, but events proved you had no intention of mastering it. You happened to meet Victoria in the street and took her to your friend’s house to recover from a fainting attack, instead of escorting her home and informing me immediately. Then you came across from Ireland when I left her at Wychbourne for rest and quiet and proceeded to amuse yourself at my expense.”

  “Damn you! That is unforgivable.”

  “What you did is unforgivable. Do not speak to me of reconciliation. You cannot be true to anything.” He looked supremely arrogant as he accused his brother. “Despite my directive, I saw you just tonight taking my wife into a quiet corner again.”

  Hugo was losing any hold over his temper. “I had no choice. Since you had not told Victoria of your words to me, she was in great distress over my behavior. It was a choice between a few minutes of quiet explanation or a public snub before officers of the regiment. I cannot believe you would have wished me to submit her to that.”

  “I did not wish you to submit her to many things, but you did.”

  “But it was all done with honorable intentions,” cried Hugo hotly. “I have nothing on my conscience on that score.”

  “God, but you have a strange conception of honor. Can you deny you still have a passion for her? Ha, I see you cannot answer.”

  “I have enough regard for her to beg you to reconsider taking her with you. War is bloody and terrible. There will be things that will make a man sick to his stomach. You cannot put her through that. Charles, you cannot put Victoria through such an ordeal.”

  “I am merely acceding to her own earnest desire. Since she cannot be a mother to my son, she wishes to concern herself with the ruffians of the regiment…but I have my own reasons for agreeing.” He was gripping the edge of the bookcase in his anger but, unlike Hugo, he was quite controlled. “She will see you day after day, month after month as you ride about the camp; she will watch you ride off on patrol and never know if you will return; she will see you crack and fall apart before her; she will see her brave hero disintegrate as his boasts crumble before the reality. And you — you will know she is within arm’s reach and will be tormented by the knowledge. I wonder how long it will be before you can both stand no more?”

  “You will never know the answer to that brutish question,” flamed Hugo. “When she told me the news tonight I resolved to transfer to another regiment.”

  “Then I charge you with cowardice,” snapped Charles.

  “Charge me with what you wish. I will not aid you in something designed to hurt her.” Hugo felt the blood pounding in his temples.

  “Then I challenge you to prove you have some vestige of manhood. I challenge you to see this campaign through to its end as an officer of our regiment, constantly in her company. I challenge you to show her you can live up to the brave picture you paint of yourself.”

  “No!”

  “Are you an adolescent boy that you cannot master yourself sufficiently to overcome the desires of the flesh?” Charles was white around the lips, and all the overweening arrogance of his forebears was in his face. “Transfer then, for I will not have my troopers led into needless slaughter by a conceited sentimental weakling.”

  Hugo took two steps forward and struck his brother across the face.

  There was a petrified silence. Hugo stood, chest heaving and eyes blazing with horrified anger, hardly able to believe he had been so violent. Charles was swaying slightly, a red mark flaming against the whiteness of his face. At last he tilted up his chin and said in painful, labored tones, “Your lack of self-control might yet solve your problem. There will come a time in the heat of battle when my back is turned to you. In the mêlée who is to know who delivered the fatal sword thrust?”

  Hugo closed his eyes for a moment against the shock, then began to move away backward across the room. “May God forgive you for that, Charles,” he breathed. Then he turned and went out.

  *

  The night before the regiment was due to leave, Rosie was on her way to her mistress’s room with a strange message. It was one of the last duties she was to perform for Mrs. Stanford, for she had asked to go back to Wychbourne. Being a lady’s maid in an elegant house was one thing; the prospect of tents, hardship and soldiers cutting each other’s throats was another. On the morrow she would go up to Wychbourne in the big carriage with Glencoe and some small items of furniture that were to be kept at the big house. Her tread was light tonight. This household was too fraught with undercurrents to be a happy one, and she was going home to her own village.

  After curtsying to her mistress, who was writing farewell letters, she said, “Alice says there’s someone waiting to see you, ma’am.”

  “Alice?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He’s in the kitchen. Seems desperate to see you, she said. He’s been waiting since four o’clock.”

  “Why haven’t I been told?” asked Victoria, dragging her attention away from her letters. “I have been in all day.”

  “Seems she didn’t think you would wish to be disturbed and hoped he’d go away. Only he didn’t. She can’t lea
ve him in the kitchen, and she’s waiting to go off for the night.”

  Victoria was getting quite cross. Had her servants abandoned their duties a day in advance? “Go and find out who this man is and what he wants, Rosie.”

  “Oh, ma’am, I know who he is.”

  “You know? Then why have you not told me? Really, girl, one might almost believe you had never been trained in domestic service. Who has been waiting several hours to see me?”

  “It’s Trooper Stokes…and he won’t say what he’s come for,” Rosie blurted out with a touch of defiance.

  “ #Stokes! Oh, why was I not told instantly?” cried Victoria, full of apprehension as to why Hugo’s servant should be so persistent. Surely it was not bad news? Hurrying down the stairs, she directed Rosie to show him into the music room at once.

  “But, ma’am, he’s a trooper,” wailed Rosie, hurrying behind her.

  “He is an acquaintance of mine, nevertheless. I take it he is not in company with his horse,” she said tartly.

  Stokes looked quite ill as he walked across the rose-patterned carpet toward her, and Victoria felt her stomach muscles tighten.

  “Good evening, Stokes. It is a pleasure to see you again after all this time,” she began with a semblance of calm. “I apologize for the long wait you have had. My maid has only this minute informed me of your visit.”

  “Thank you for seeing me, Miss Cast… I mean, ma’am.” He was plainly in great distress. His proud military bearing had gone and there was no trace of the ruddy joviality she was used to seeing on his face. “Believe me, I would not have come to you, only I’m real desperate, ma’am,” he continued miserably. “The captain’ll likely skin me alive when he finds out, but there’s things that have to be done at times.”

  Victoria was too relieved at hearing Hugo was apparently not the subject of the visit to take in all he said, but his whole demeanor aroused her quick sympathy.

  “Stokes, just tell me why you have come. We shall worry about Captain Esterly later.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He looked at his boots. “It’s Mrs. Stokes, you see. She drew ‘not to go.’”

  Victoria began to understand. When a regiment was sent overseas the number of soldiers’ wives allowed to accompany their husbands was six per troop. To decide who the lucky ones should be, a ballot was held. The women drew papers on which were written “to go” or “not to go.” Those who lost were given a ticket to their family home — if they had one and had not been turned out for marrying a despised soldier — and left to fend for themselves until their men returned, sometimes as much as twenty years later — if they returned at all.

  Stokes went on. “I don’t know which way to turn, ma’am. Captain Esterly has done what he can, but we only got back three days ago and there’s been no time. As it is, he’s going around in circles trying to get himself equipped and the horses reshod, so I can’t expect him to do more than he has — which not every officer would do, I can tell you.”

  “I am sure he has been as helpful as time permits,” she agreed. “Has your wife no family?”

  “No, ma’am. She was brought up in a traveling circus.”

  “Ah, yes. I remember Captain Esterly telling me. Could she not return to her friends there while you are away?”

  “They’ve gone to Germany touring the towns on the Rhine. There’s no one else. The captain generously offered to send her to Wychbourne at his own expense, but she’d never make a kitchen maid, ma’am, and I know what them servants is like there. Dawkins would never rest until she was dismissed. If there was time the captain could’ve found her employment in the village nearby, but we’re off tomorrow. Besides which, she’s not too good at anything but elephants. That’s all she’s ever done, you see.”

  Victoria could imagine the extent of Hugo’s success if he tried to find employment for an elephant girl in his home village.

  “I can see your dilemma, Stokes, but what are you going to do?”

  He turned his busby around and around in his large hands as he watched the twirling plume. “I’m not going to accept charity, ma’am. Me and the captain had words this morning after he said there was nothing else but to take his offer to supplement the cost of simple lodgings until we get back. He went off in a right black temper, and I’ve been walking up and down, up and down, trying to pluck up the courage to come here.”

  “I am sorry you felt you had to build up your courage to see me. I thought we were on better terms than that,” she said gently.

  He looked up with a flush on his doleful face. “It’s very kind of you to say that, Miss…Mrs. Stanford, but I wouldn’t have come on this errand unless I had to. When a man takes a wife he must look out for her, mustn’t he?”

  “If he is an honorable man, certainly,” agreed Victoria, beginning to feel some of his desperation.

  “Yesterday, I bumped into Miss Caddywould — your maid — in the street, and she told me she wouldn’t go to the war if all the horses in the regiment pulled her there. It occurs to me that if you are going without a maid, my wife might be of some help to you.” He grew slightly redder. “She’s had no training, but she is a good laundress…and I’m teaching her to cook. If you could say she is your personal servant, she gets to go on the ship with us. I don’t want charity — I can afford to keep us both — but if she goes as your maid she can travel with the regiment all the time.”

  Victoria looked at him in dismay. “I have engaged a maid. I am so sorry.” At his reaction she added quickly, “Would you like me to ask on your behalf of the other ladies who are going? There is time even now.”

  He shook his head numbly. “They’re all fixed up. We got back from Ireland too late. I beg your pardon for troubling you. Miss Caddywould didn’t say anything about a replacement or I’d not have taken up your time when you have so much to do.”

  “Nonsense,” she said, knowing she could not let him go like this. “It has just occurred to me, Stokes, that I have a duty to the regiment. If you sail without your wife you will be bad-tempered and inefficient. That will put Captain Esterly in one of his black moods, and he will be bad-tempered and inefficient.” She smiled. “In no time the entire regiment will be the same…and the war will be lost, all for the want of Mrs. Stokes.”

  The poor worried trooper was looking at her as if she had gone mad. “What does all that mean, ma’am?”

  “That you may return to barracks before your absence is noted, and prepare your wife to travel with me tomorrow. I did not really take to the girl I engaged last Monday.” She pulled the bell rope for a footman to show her visitor out. “I have a feeling I shall get on far better with Mrs. Stokes.” A little gurgle of laughter broke through. “I have always wanted to know about elephants.”

  Stokes could hardly take it in. “I don’t know what to say, ma’am, except the regiment got a real lady the day you joined it. I shall be able to rest easy tonight, and Zarina will perk up right away.”

  “Who?” choked Victoria.

  “Zarina, ma’am. My wife was known as the Great Zarina — Ranee of the elephants.”

  Victoria fought to keep a straight face. “I see. Please bring…your wife at nine tomorrow morning. I suppose you travel to Portsmouth by train with Captain Esterly?”

  “No, ma’am. The captain has been detailed to bring a squadron in. It seems a bit hard when he had less time to prepare than the other officers, but he’s unmarried and considered to have less to attend to. We’re riding to the docks through the city.” He hesitated, grateful beyond his ability to express it. “Good night, Mrs. Stanford. If I can ever be of real service to you, you will not find me wanting.” He gave a grin that toned up the ends of his mustache. “I’ve got to think of a way to break the news to the captain now.”

  And I have got to think of a way to break the news to Charles, she thought as he went out.

  *

  There were hitches.

  The transports did not arrive in Portsmouth dockyard on the expected date. The infantry
and cavalry officers who had traveled there by train were obliged to put up in hotels in the city, where a great burst of social activity began as sight-seers and relatives or friends of the departing men poured into Portsmouth and Southsea, complete with retinues of servants. Balls and dinner parties were speedily organized, theaters were packed with elite audiences, trips around the harbor attracted wide-eyed giggling young ladies more lost in admiration of the young naval officer than the wonders of shipbuilding he showed them, and everyone forgot about the war for two or three days. Even those women who had desperately marched behind their husbands, holding onto life as long as they were in sight, had a short reprieve before abandonment.

  Among those who did not forget what lay ahead was Hugo. He was stranded in a hotel in Havant, a small village outside the naval port, and fumed over the delay. These few days could have been used to great advantage at Brighton, where he had been forced to accept inferior equipment because he did not have the time for selection. He had set off with the squadron he had commanded in Ireland, plus the effeminate Cornet McKay, feeling half prepared for a campaign. Now he was stranded with his men on the outskirts of the city, waiting for orders to march through to the transports.

  Despite his urge for action, he felt a new happiness these days. For the first time in eighteen months he walked like a proud man. The guilt and doubts had flown; he was free, confident and decisive. Hearing Charles accuse him of all the things he had called himself had somehow laid all the ghosts, sorted out the truth from imagination. His brother’s contempt had banished self-condemnation, enabling him to see clearly — more clearly than he had since taking that black band from his eyes so long ago at Wychbourne.

  His single crime had been taking Victoria out in a gig when she was plainly too ill to stand such a trip. The journey had been suggested with the best of intentions, and his subsequent actions had been right. That had been no insane careering downhill; every foot had been taken with skill and calculation. He had atoned twofold for the tragedy that followed. Charles had verbally flogged him twice. The slate was wiped clean.