Scarlet Shadows

by Elizabeth Darrell

  Victoria forced herself to speak plainly. “Hugo is recovering from something that is killing most of its victims. He is a very determined and intelligent man, and he has friends like you and Jack who care about him — besides Stokes, who, I truly believe, would die for him if necessary.” She took a deep breath. “All through the morning I have been thinking about those who have none of those advantages. Letty, out there are men lying among their comrades with no one to give them any attention, hope or reason to believe they are not already dead men. All they see are their fellows being covered with blankets and taken out one by one. They hear the trumpet being sounded over the graves, knowing that the next one will be over their own. Would you not give up under such circumstances?”

  Letty shivered. “Whatever has brought such melancholy and morbid thoughts to your head? No wonder you look so white and exhausted. It does not do to dwell on such things, Victoria.”

  She grew angry in an instant, surprising even herself. “I had not thought to hear such words from you, Letty. Do you tell me you can glibly speak of six hundred dying in one night and our poor Guards leaving the earth in such great numbers and not give a thought to the fact that those numbers are human souls? Each one is a man with a family, loved ones, friends. He is a father, husband, son. In England, there are women destined to hear that he is no more. A piece of paper will arrive, and that is all they will ever know of him again.”

  The girl on the bed pulled her wrapper closer around her and swung her legs to the ground. “If one thought of all the tragedies in life it would be impossible to find any composure, Victoria,” she said quietly. “The ways of the Lord are mysterious — you should know that, dear friend — and we must accept His decisions.”

  “Pray do not speak to me of accepting His decisions,” Victoria flared. “Forgive me, Letty, but life has been very good to you, and I do not believe you have any idea of what it is like to be forced to do so. I will agree that the Lord has His reasons, but I happen to think He expects us to help ourselves from time to time.”

  Letty was looking angry now, but Victoria was not going to be stopped, even if it meant a quarrel. Since she’d left Hugo’s tent that morning, a great deal had been going through her head and heart. The Almighty had come in for a great deal of criticism until Zarina Stokes had come in with the laundry, acting as His messenger, Victoria thought. She had swung in in her usual graceful manner, with the basket on her hip and her red hair piled high.

  “Missus, isn’t it grand? The captain is on the mend. Stokes said I was to tell you if you hadn’t sent him to get another man and walk the invalid up and down until he could stand no more, there’s no doubt Captain Esterly would be in a bad plight by now.” The girl had neither guile nor sauciness on her face. “You can rely on us not to say anything, missus, but Stokes and me reckon you saved him…and that must be about as much comfort as anyone would wish for. Don’t go upsetting yourself any more about him.”

  The girl’s words had returned again and again, until Victoria suddenly saw what she must do. Her natural instinct had been to come straight to Letty, but she would do it alone if necessary.

  “Victoria,” Letty was saying, “if you are not suffering from a fever brought on by melancholia, will you quickly come to the reason for your visit? I have a headache, the heat is trying me very severely…and so, at the moment, are you.”

  Victoria rose and went to sit beside the girl on the bed. “It has occurred to me that we are here for a purpose,” she said urgently. “I will admit it was a purely selfish motive that led us to travel with the regiment, but we need not remain selfish.” She took her friend’s hands. “It is the duty of our husbands to look after the men under their command, is it not? I see it as our duty to perform those services that can only be considered as nonregimental. A woman’s soft voice inquiring after them, reading letters from their loved ones at home, hearing the last thoughts that could not be told to their fellows lest they be thought unmanly, knowing someone cares about them as a person, not as a fighting machine — all that could make this terrible time bearable for them. It might even raise the spirits of some enough to make them fight it, as…” She broke off quickly. “It might even save one or two. Letty, will you come with me to the hospital now?”

  The frown on the pretty face deepened. “I cannot believe the major approves this plan, Victoria.”

  “He does not know of it.”

  “As I thought. He will soon put an end to it.”

  “He will not. I am determined upon it. Do I go alone? Are we to fall out over something that should unite us?”

  Letty was unhappy and showed it. “Have you thought what this really means, Victoria? It sounds very high-minded and commendable, but the hospital is a terrible place just now. It is surrounded by the most unimaginable smells, and there are groans and moans coming from beneath the canvas day and night. I dare say one could not move among the sick, for I believe they are scrambling all over each other. The language to be heard would dismay anyone. They are common soldiers, Victoria…and you are the wife of a major.”

  Victoria could hardly believe her dearest friend could think in such terms. She rose at once, disillusioned and upset.

  “Well, Letty, you have taught me a lesson in mistaking the character of a person. Yes, I am the wife of a major and could choose whether or not I traveled with my husband on this campaign. The wives of these soldiers could not.” She went over to the tent flap. “If Jack were halfway across the world without you and he were dying, would you not be grateful to the woman who put a last glass of water to his lips or wrote to tell you his last words?”

  Letty rose. “This is different. These men are…”

  “Are what?” challenged Victoria. “Would Jack leave them on a field of battle because he is a gentleman and they are not?”

  Letty stared at her friend, then looked down. “You have brought reality too near, Victoria. I am sorry you have found me wanting.”

  Immediately, Victoria was across to her and taking her hands again. “Come with me, dear Letty, for I doubt I shall have the courage to do it alone.”

  *

  Victoria returned to her tent at 5:00 P.M. Her dress was wet and sticking to her back, and the dark curls hung limply against her neck. The ache that had begun in her throat as she ran from Hugo’s tent that morning was still there, making her voice hoarse, and unshed tears widened her eyes.

  Pushing up the flap, she walked in to find Charles, already washed and out of uniform, sitting in the chair reading a copy of The Times that had arrived that day. His eyes looked at her over the top of the newspaper, then he slowly stood up.

  “I would doubt the advisability of walking during the afternoons while this weather is upon us,” he said. “Since you are not wearing a habit, that is what you must have been doing.”

  “I have spent the afternoon in the hospital, Charles,” she told him as she unfastened her bonnet strings.

  “In the…hospital?”

  Swinging around to face him, she tilted up her chin as he often did when prepared to argue. “I shall go there every day until the cholera has ended.”

  “Might I inquire for what purpose?”

  “For the purpose of humanity.” She put a hand up to lift the hair away from her neck. “Charles, have you seen them? There are so many they cannot be fitted beneath the canvas, and some are lying outside in the shadow cast by the tent. Surgeon-Captain Morrison tells me he will have to leave men in their own tents if the epidemic increases. I was horrified. Imagine the feelings of those having to lie beside the sufferers, wondering if they might not be next. Something will have to be done.”

  “My dear Victoria, are you telling me you have been in company with Captain Morrison within that vile hospital throughout an afternoon that, I am told, reached a temperature of one hundred and twelve degrees?”

  She could not decide if he was angry or amused. “I was lucky — I came away at the end of it. Those men have to remain there. I saw poor Troo
per Miles — his wife is with us — whom Captain Morrison told me quietly would not last out the day. What is to become of Mrs. Miles, stranded out here in the Balkans?”

  Charles folded his newspaper and threw it onto the table. “She will be married again by tomorrow night. Soldiers’ wives can do nothing else but go from the graveside to the marriage service. With luck, she will have four or five offers from which to choose.”

  Victoria looked at her husband and marveled at his calm attitude toward something she found so tragic. “You make it sound so…so…inevitable.”

  “On a campaign there is no help for it. What will you do, Victoria, if you are left a widow?” That intensity was in his eyes once more.

  Recognizing the baiting mood he had often adopted since the loss of her child, she refused to be drawn. She said instead, “Is there not another large tent that could be used as an extension to the hospital? We cannot allow sick men to lower the spirits of the others.”

  “We?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

  “The regiment…its officers,” she explained, “and also Mrs. Markham and me.”

  “Ah, I thought Mrs. Markham might be involved in this.”

  “You have it wrong, Charles. It was I who persuaded her. She believed it was below our dignity to visit and comfort mere troopers, until I pointed out that she would be grateful to anyone who would do as much for her husband.” He stood looking at her, still with that intensity in his eyes, every inch the handsome aristocrat, and she knew he was waiting for his opportunity. Suddenly, she could hold back no longer. “Did you know that Hugo was taken with cholera last night?”

  He gave no sign of his feelings, apart from allowing a shadow to fall across his natural expression. “I heard a report that one of my captains had succumbed. I was not surprised.”

  “What if he should die?” she whispered painfully, watching his face.

  “It would be unfortunate. I do not see where we are to get replacements for all these casualties.”

  Her hands clutched the sides of her skirt, and the heat suddenly oppressed her more than it had all afternoon. What had happened to love, friendship and loyalty? Her husband’s love was no more than selfish desire; Hugo’s love had died. Letty had disappointed her today — her one true friend. Hugo was simply “one of my captains” to his brother; loyalty had fled.

  Then she remembered the events of the afternoon. Love she had written in letters to England; friendship had been rife among fellow sufferers; loyalty had abounded in the promises made by comrades to carry out the last wishes of those who would be buried by sunset. It was crystal clear what her own salvation was to be. She had sailed with Charles for purely selfish reasons — to be with her one love. This morning Hugo had rejected her, thrown her love in her face, shattered her soul. He did not want her! First Charles, then Hugo had shown her she was of no use to them. But in that stinking overcrowded hospital tent she had been wanted. Her smiles had brought an answering spark of warmth to dulled eyes, her words of comfort had fallen on grateful ears, her offers of help had been accepted with unbelieving thankfulness.

  Her foolish dream of becoming the patroness of the regiment had been that of a child. She no longer wished to be the revered and respected great lady — when Charity Verewood married its most brilliant officer she would step into that role quite fittingly. Now, her heart and soul cried out to belong, to be needed, to be of some use…to be loved. There among the sick troopers she had found what she sought…and not one of them had told her to go back where she belonged!

  Aware that Charles was watching her closely, she dragged her mind back to their conversation. “If these men are left lying in their tents you will have cause to find many replacements, Charles. Surely some arrangement can be made to extend the hospital.”

  “At some later date, Victoria. We received orders today to move camp to Yeni-Bazaar, some miles upcountry, to try to halt the epidemic. We march at five A.M. on the day after tomorrow.”

  “March? But what about the sick?” she cried.

  “They will be left here with most of the medical staff and a party of gravediggers. It is pointless moving if we intend taking them with us.”

  “I…see.” She turned away, sick with disappointment. Her salvation was crushed before it was born. “I must send for Mrs. Stokes,” she said to cover her feelings. “We are dining with the Lancers tonight, I believe.”

  She heard him come toward her, and his hands fell on her shoulders.

  “There is no need to send for Mrs. Stokes,” said a silken voice in her ear. “I am well able to unhook your dress for you.”

  Growing still, she said, “But I should very much like to take a bath.”

  “So you shall, my dear. The presence of your husband will not prevent it.” Her dress slipped to the ground, and Charles turned her to face him as his hands began to caress her shoulders. “I had no way of knowing how very well you would adapt to campaigning when I decided to bring you, my dear. I am constantly being told of your excellent qualities as I move about the camp. During the months we have been here your capacity for friendship and your insatiable interest in the affairs of the regiment have made you universally admired.” He smiled. “Even Lord Cardigan was heard to express a fondness for you.” His finger began to follow the strap of her chemise down to her bodice. “In short, you are the perfect officer’s lady — a fact that could not suit the situation better.”

  Victoria was dropping with fatigue and longed for rest and solitude, but she read something new in Charles today. “I am glad you feel justified in your decision,” she said woodenly.

  “More than justified, my dear. Rayne has approved my appointment to lieutenant colonel. You are now only one step from becoming colonel’s lady — something for which you have ambitions, I believe.”

  She recognized his buoyancy of manner for what it was, and his pride served to increase her dispiritedness. The news gave her no pleasure.

  “I have every confidence in your filling the part to perfection, Victoria,” continued Charles, slipping the straps of her chemise from her shoulders and bending his head to brush her skin with his lips. “So you see, I really cannot have you wandering about the camp like some trooper’s woman, can I?”

  Rising up in her with extreme violence was the knowledge that she could not bear to submit to him at that moment. The touch of his hands was making her skin crawl; the silken tone as he spoke the overtures to his cold passion brought a return of her bridal fear of him; the intense light in his eyes burned like a sword thrust through her body as past-remembered anguished nights told her it would be the same again if she could not escape.

  Taking several steps backward, she said, “I think you cannot compare me with a trooper’s wife, Charles. There has been ample evidence from all quarters that I have made many friends among the officers, who are all pleased to seek my company.” She took another step back. “You said yourself that General Estcourt and even Lord Raglan spoke highly of my evident knowledge of military matters.”

  He began following, forcing her back toward the bed. “Quite so, my dear, but much as it pleases me to know the officers seek your company and are graciously received, I cannot have you neglecting your husband in the process…can I?” he breathed against her mouth as his arms compelled her to arch over, close to his body.

  In anger and panic she began to struggle, fighting with something near delirium in her desire to escape, to salvage something from a day of events that had brought her to her knees. Her naked fear sent Charles’s desire rocketing. Her next words brought a violent response from him.

  “No, Charles, no! I am exhausted. I have been trying to give comfort to the men all afternoon,” she pleaded desperately.

  “Now you must comfort your husband,” he said with savage finality. “If you have forgotten how to do that, I will soon remind you.”

  Victoria had not forgotten — could never do so — and her tears flowed for Hugo, for the pitiful creatures in the hospital and for her
own lost hopes and dignity that day. For the first time since leaving England she felt utterly defeated.

  *

  The Light Cavalry Brigade had been in its new camp at Yeni-Bazaar for two weeks when those who had been thrown into a dilemma by the relief of Silestria decided what to do with the enormous force that was dying off in hundreds around Varna. Cardigan had discovered the position of the enemy.

  The Russians had retreated across the Danube, but the situation could hardly be left as it was. Though Britain and France had made their show of strength, it was unthinkable to send their forces back without having fired a shot. Vivid reports on the cholera epidemic had caused raised voices at home — not about the deaths but the manner of them. If men were dying, let it be in some glorious battle that established superiority over the upstart Russians. At length, in mid-August, orders were issued to invade the Crimea and capture the strategic port of Sebastopol. The war was on again!

  Every day conflicting instructions were received, but there was no doubt that a vast fleet of transports was being assembled in Varna harbor, and the soldiers began to believe they would be going into action at last. Spirits rose, and men were heard singing about their work once more. Cholera was still raging, but any man would sooner face the Russian bayonets than remain in that accursed place to join his comrades beneath the sod.

  The infantry began embarking almost immediately, and the cavalry received orders to prepare to follow. In overpowering heat and reduced to three-quarters strength, the Hussars struck camp and set off on their tiring journey to Varna, where they had landed so eagerly almost three months earlier.

  Two members of the long column covering the dusty ground that threw up a cloud to stick in the throats of travelers had no eager anticipation in their breasts. Victoria and Letty were bound for a hotel in Varna where they must remain while their husbands sailed for the Crimea. The commander-in-chief of the British force had forbidden any officers’ ladies to travel on the official transports — and that was that! Victoria had pleaded with Charles, who had appealed to Colonel Rayne, but when that gentleman prevailed upon higher authority the answer was still no. The reason for the ban was soon obvious. Due to lack of space on the crowded transports, each officer was allowed only one horse, what he could reasonably carry by way of baggage and would be obliged to share a cabin with two or three fellow officers.