'Good evening Sarah, my dear,' he replied with as amiable a smile as one could hope for from a Frenchman. I smiled back of course, and wished that I could tell everybody what I knew without getting myself into trouble.
That's the worst thing about being slightly inquisitive, you know, one gets oneself into all temperatures of water from hot to utterly unbearable. The other not-good thing is that when one ferrets out secrets, one cannot tell anybody about them without disclosing how they were obtained. When I was younger and foolish I used to broadcast my findings to Mother or to Kitty. I do not advise that anybody follows that course of action, I really don't. Mother took instant action that I do not wish to recount while Kitty proved utterly incapable of keeping even the most delicious of secrets. I lost many good friends when Kitty related to them what I had told her about their actions, although I had always told Kitty in the strictest of confidence.
So I kept my knowledge to myself and set about being the most amiable of hosts for the despicable Mr Howard.
'You are alone, I see,' I opened the conversation with something innocent.
'You have good eyesight,' replied my secretive companion.
I smiled at his compliment. 'Thank you, sir,' I gave a little curtsey as the female I had seen him with must have often done to him. I had resolved to be more refined, you must remember, and to equal if not surpass the elegance of that pestilent Frenchwoman.
Mr Howard asked what was on the menu and Mother bustled up to take over, ordering me away to serve another table where a group of local men, brown-faced yokels with dirt under their fingernails and absolutely no refinement, were scooping mutton and gravy into their mouths as if they were pigs at the trough. Honestly! After mingling with gentleman such as my lieutenant and Mr Howard I knew I was destined for far better things than serving such people. But needs must when the devil drives the coach so I took their orders and banged down tankards of ale for them to quaff, accepted their dirty coppers and watched Mr Howard over my shoulder the whole time.
'He's still here, then,' I had not noticed Mrs Downer arrive.
'Who?' I asked in pretended innocence.
'That man you followed this morning.' Mrs Downer did not lower her tone. I waved my hand frantically to her, fearful in case Mother or, indeed, Mr Howard, should hear.
'I did not follow any man,' I denied stoutly.
'I see,' Mrs Downer's wink transformed her face from that of an old woman to that of a hideous hag that would haunt the nightmares of even the most wicked of children. Her cackle was worse as I silently begged her to be more circumspect and dreaded that Mr Howard should hear her imputations.
Molly came in, her eyes as wise as any night owl, and I nearly ran to her table, desperate for a friend in whom I could confide.
'It's all right,' Molly lifted her hands before I had the chance to speak. 'He is in good hands.'
'Who?' Of course my first thought was of Mr Howard, and then, a trifle guiltily, of David. Eventually I worked out that Molly was referring to my French sailor, whose presence I had all but forgotten in all the excitement. 'Oh good,' I said with a forced smile. 'I was worried about him.'
'So I see,' Molly said.
'How is his poor head?' I asked, 'and his poor ankle?'
'His poor head is still bruised; probably more so after your good friend Kitty threw him on the floor, while we will not know about his poor ankle until he is conscious and tries to use it.'
I had to answer the demands of a crew of fishermen then, fresh in from the sea and smelling of fish and sweat and the honest briny. Once that was done I saw Molly laughing with Mr Howard and decided not to interfere. I had much too much in my mind and nobody in which to confide. Keeping secrets is not for the faint-hearted you see. It is far better to tell somebody everything. I mean, I am always ready to listen if you wish to tell me … but that night I was not able to confide. If I had I may have saved myself some trouble.
Chapter Twelve
The chapel was crowded for my first wedding, which went off splendidly up to a point. All was exactly as I had imagined. The pews were packed with people, with one side filled with the scarlet and gold of the Volunteers, mainly officers of course but a few of the more respectable sergeants and what-nots, with a brace of stalwart privates standing sentinel at the door. There was even a scattering of officer's wives, in gowns that would have cost as much to buy as the Horse Head, and faces that refused to smile or even acknowledge the existence of those on the other side of the central aisle. I paid particular attention to these wives of course, for in a very few moments I would be of their ilk, and I smiled to them from my position at the altar. A few nearly thought about returning the compliment while others could not have noticed, or were too preoccupied with their own business to respond to me. Captain Chadwick, the aloof commander of the Volunteers, proved my earlier perceptions incorrect as he greeted me with a friendly nod and had his men stand the moment I entered the chapel.
On the other side of the dividing aisle were my own people, the Caulkheads of the Back of Wight. Mother sat at the front, flanked by Kitty and her mother, Katie Chillerton, all in their Sunday best and with Mother dashing away a tear from her eye as she looked at me. I thought then that she must have borrowed it from a passing crocodile. With my father still a-voyaging or perhaps a prisoner of the French, Mother asked John Nash to give me away, which he did with gruff aplomb and a kind of natural grace that made me wonder if my own father had been like him. Hugo Bertram had taken a prime position in the Caulkhead side of the congregation, standing proud yet alone as he surveyed all these visitors to his chapel.
More importantly, he gave me a broad grin and a nod of approval as I stepped up to the altar.
I know that the day of a girl's marriage is supposed to be the best day of her life, the end of her girlhood and the beginning of womanhood. I am not sure if my first wedding day was like that. I was in such a dream that I barely remember the ceremony at all.
The Reverend Barwis was there, with his robes and Holy Book, and I expect that he made us repeat certain words and phrases but for the life of me I could not tell you what I said. I do remember that David looked very handsome in his scarlet uniform and smiled down on me as we stood side by side in front of the assembled congregation.
I also remember the Reverend Barwis saying: 'you may kiss the bride' and David doing so, not in any great burst of passion as he had done last time we were in this same place, but with dignity and decorum, as befitted an officer, a gentleman and a married man.
Strangely, it was Captain Chadwick who was first to congratulate me as he bowed and offered me his hand, and then a whole host of people were there, from Hugo Bertram to John Nash and two of the officers' wives who were distant but polite. I revelled in the attention, being very condescending to those of my friends who were not fortunate enough to be married to a Volunteer officer, and very attentive to those new friends who were.
Kitty came last, pressing up close to me with the light of mischief in her eyes and a deep chuckle in her throat.
'You can tell me all about tonight later,' she said.
'Don't be so crude,' I admonished her. 'What happens between a husband and wife is private.'
Kitty's laugh was anything but private. 'Even to your closest and most amiable friend?'
I could not help but smile. Kitty and I have shared all our secrets since childhood. 'Only if you solemnly swear not to tell another living soul.' I said.
She nodded, straight faced and sincere as only the very best of prevaricators could be. 'You know I would never do that,' she said.
'I'll call on you as soon as I can,' I said, for in truth I was rather looking forward to giving her every last detail so the little minx squirmed in jealousy as I, the wife of a Volunteer officer, treated her to tales that she, a known wanton, could never hope to emulate. I was now a woman of position while she could merely hang on my coat tails and hope for crumbs from my table, if I chose to give her any.
We filed ou
tside into a glorious day of warm sunshine, with the Channel as blue as you could wish and spangled with the sails of a score of ships. I stood there with David on my arm and the future bright before us. For one glorious, happy moment married life was good, but that was the only flicker of time that fate afforded us.
I could not see the future then, or the darkness that the corporal carried as he ran through the gate of the churchyard to deliver his message to Captain Chadwick. There is an old saying, 'don't shoot the messenger' but if I had possessed a pistol that day, and the means to look into our immediate future, I would have aimed it at that gasping corporal and shot him, bang, right between the eyes. But I had not and he still lives, no doubt as happily as a corporal can live with a corporal's wife and a host of little corporal children, each with two corporal stripes on his or her arm … but I digress and who can blame me?
'Sir,' that corporal said as he saluted. I can see him now, with his clean-shaven face and narrow blue eyes. 'Sir, begging your pardon for interrupting the wedding sir, but Lieutenant Compton sends his compliments sir, and a whole section has deserted, sir and could you help search this end of the island, sir.'
Somehow I knew there would be trouble after that message with its plethora of sirs.
'The devil, you say?' Captain Chadwick's commented, somewhat incoherently. 'An entire section deserted? We can't have that!' He looked around the churchyard, into which his officers were slowly filing, talking to each other and to their wives, quite happy and relaxed. 'Volunteers!' He said in an impressively commanding voice, 'form up!'
After a short hesitation, due to surprise I presume, they obeyed at once, officers and men rushing to form three short lines in front of him in front of the chapel.
'I am sorry to break up such a happy gathering,' Captain Chadwick said, 'but Corporal Nickerson has brought me the gravest tidings.'
I saw some of the wives look alarmed and one asked openly if Boney had landed. The Volunteers stiffened further at that suggestion.
'It is worse than that,' Captain Chadwick said. 'I have had news that an entire section of Volunteers, our men, have proved disloyal to their sworn oath and have deserted the regiment.'
There were gasps of disbelief from the wives and stern looks from the officers. My own husband looked at me with the most severe expression on his countenance. I was all a-flutter myself, wondering what on earth would happen next.
'All officers and men, without exception, will report to Horseshoe Bay in Ventnor and we will scour the island for these unfaithful devils.'
As the officers began to bark orders, Captain Chadwick approached me. 'I am very sorry to take your husband away from you on this most special of days,' he said, 'but the duties of the service must always come first. I am sure you understand.'
'Of course, sir,' I said, thinking that the Captain was not at all an ogre and looked quite splendid in his uniform. He was a most dignified man, you see, and unmarried, poor soul. All good men need a wife to keep them safe from temptation, as I am sure I have already said.
Captain Chadwick bowed. 'I will send him back to you as soon as I am able. You will both continue to stay at the Horse Head until the regiment moves to Dublin?'
'Yes, sir,' I said.
He nodded. 'There is no need to call me sir when we are alone, my dear. You are part of the Regiment now. My given name is William.'
With that final kindness he was gone, leaving me temporarily bereft of a husband, and my arrangements for a wedding breakfast in the Horse Head all in tatters. Of course Mother was never at a loss and packed up all the spare food to be used at a later date while the women and those men who remained made a good job of demolishing the ale and wines.
'You may have to spend the night alone after all,' Kitty consoled me with a hug. 'Unless you wish me to find a suitable bed mate? There are many men who could take poor David's place if need be.'
I knew she was trying to make light of my situation to make me feel better, yet I still responded with a burst of ill-temper that included many of the colourful words that I had learned from the fishermen and smugglers. Kitty withdrew with her face as scarlet as any Volunteer uniform and I slunk to a corner of the tap-room to console myself with a brandy or two. It may not be a drink thought suitable for ladies but at times only the strongest of spirits can help revive a flagging spirit.
I heard the popping of musketry without interest. It could have been any regiment training or even men after a rabbit or a bird of prey, yet my mother raised her head in concern and looked over to me.
'You had better be about some work,' she said, which was her answer to anything, good or bad, 'rather than sitting there brooding.'
'I am not brooding,' I said, lifting my third glass of brandy to my lips. 'I am waiting for my husband to come home.'
I did not have long to wait. Within the hour there was a knock at the door which Mother answered, and then half a dozen Volunteers trooped in. They looked at me with pale, unhappy faces and spoke to each other in low voices.
'What's happened? What's the matter?' I asked, and then, knowing that something was wrong, I added, 'where's my husband?'
Mother came to me with her mouth set. 'It will be all right,' she said, 'it will all be all right,' and she pulled me close in a very unaccustomed hug. I knew then that it was very much not all right. I knew then that David was dead.
Four more of the Volunteers arrived, bearing the body of David on a makeshift litter. They laid him down on one of the tables and looked to me.
'I am very sorry for your loss,' Captain Chadwick said. 'He was a fine man and a promising young officer.'
I looked down upon my husband. There were two bullet holes in him; one in the centre of his forehead and the other in the centre of his chest. 'They have spoiled his dress coat,' was all that I could say, while my heart was breaking within me and my mind was numb.
At such times, people do not know how to react. The full horror had not come to me yet. I only knew that I was a widow without ever having known the joys of being a wife.
'We will give him a full military funeral,' Captain Chadwick promised, as if that was of any consolation at all.
'What happened?' I know I asked that, although my voice did not seem to belong to me. It was as if I floated above my body, watching some stranger go through the motions of life while being utterly detached from the awful reality.
'We were hunting for the deserters,' Captain Chadwick said. 'They did not want to be arrested and shot at us. Poor Lieutenant Baldivere was leading his men.'
'They murdered him.' I said, standing up. I felt such anger then that I could not control what I said next. 'I want them hanged. I want to see them swinging at the end of a rope.'
But I did not really. I was angry beyond words, yet I had no notion to inflict this pain of bereavement on any other person. I remembered that the privates had been forced into uniform. In a way, I think I began to grow up then, with the body of my husband before me and his blood drying on the uniform. I was not mature yet, that I know, but I had taken the first step.
'They are already dead,' Captain Chadwick said. 'Justice has been done.'
I nodded. I did not cry; there were not enough tears in the world to wash away what I was feeling. Without a word, I stood up and blundered out of the Horse Head Inn and over the downland to the Long Stone. It was there, where David and I had been so happy, that I released my grief and it was there, hours later, that Molly and my mother found me, still weeping, and brought me home.
Chapter Thirteen
I will not spend much time over the next few weeks of that eventful year. There is sufficient grief and mourning in everybody's life without forcing you to read of it in a book that is supposed to be about romance. Suffice it to say that it was not the best period in my young life and I was supported by true friends both old and new.
My mother was always there, keeping me busy, and so was Kitty, strangely enough. Molly gave advice and support while Captain Chadwick and Mr Howard hover
ed in the background, the latter as a father figure for all his French connection and the former as something else, although I did not yet know quite what, then.
We buried David in the graveyard that wrapped somberly around the parish church with all the officers standing in silent mourning and most of the people of the parish bare-headed and quiet as they tried to avoid my eyes while still expressing genuine sympathy. Whoever knows what to say at a funeral? That was a silent day of grey mist and I will not dwell on it. I am not one to reminisce over bad times; they were there, they were horrible and then they passed. Let us just say that I survived them and learned a lesson or two. Not enough to come out as a mature, thinking woman, yet enough to wave farewell to a lot of the flighty foolishness of that young girl about whom I have been writing so far in this story of mine.
You may think that I spent the entire next few weeks in mourning for my departed love. Well that was not what happened. My mother and Molly both allowed me a couple of days to myself and then they urged me into toilsome activity.
'I hope you don't expect me to run the inn on my own and look after you,' Mother put on her most severe tone, 'and working is the best way you can get back to being yourself again.'
'You rescued that poor man from the sea,' Molly added her two-penny worth. 'Now you are responsible for looking after him.'
Between the two of them I was sent from the inn to Molly's house, from skivvy to nurse, from barmaid to helper so that when I eventually got to bed I slept the sleep of the totally exhausted and although the pain was still there, the absolute bewilderment of loss was diminishing. My Frenchman had minutes of lucidity and times when he was completely comatose. Sometimes he spoke in French and at other times in English, yet he was never forthcoming with his name or anything else we could use to identify him.
Sarah's Story Page 8
