Bennett smiled; this was more how he’d expected Hope to react, questions and more questions. ‘No, he didn’t tell me anything else, but he spoke with such warmth about Nell that I’m certain he’ll be very happy to talk to you about her. I too would like to hear more about all my in-laws!’
At that, Hope realized that Bennett not only fully appreciated what this news of Nell meant to her, but was also delighted to embrace her family as his own, and that touched her to the core.
But with that knowledge came guilt too. Why hadn’t she felt able to tell Bennett yesterday that she’d met Captain Pettigrew previously, and that he was the author of the letter to Lady Harvey?
‘There is another reason why I am so stunned by all this,’ she blurted out. ‘You see, I’d met Captain Pettigrew back at Briargate.’
‘Really?’ Bennett raised one eyebrow questioningly. ‘And why didn’t you tell me this yesterday?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe it’s because Nell always drummed into me that I should never divulge anything that I might hear or see there. You see, Captain Pettigrew was Lady Harvey’s lover. That was what made me come over all faint when I recognized him.’
‘Good God!’ Bennett exclaimed. ‘And to think I believed it was the shock of those men attacking you and Queenie that made you so anxious to leave the cavalry camp!’
‘He made me recall things I wanted to forget,’ Hope said in her defence.
Bennett looked at her thoughtfully. ‘So how do you feel about the man now that your sister is his housekeeper and Briargate is gone?’
‘I really don’t know, Bennett,’ Hope sighed.
‘But Captain Pettigrew spoke of Nell with such affection – she must have a better life with him than with Albert.’
‘That’s very true. But if it hadn’t been for the letter he sent, I wouldn’t have gone to the gatehouse that day and seen Sir William with Albert. The Captain began that chain of events which ended in such misery for me.’
Bennett lapsed into silence for a little while.
‘If only we’d heard about the fire before we left England,’ he said eventually.
‘I can write to Matt,’ Hope said eagerly. ‘I can enclose a letter for Nell too.’
As she jumped up to get some writing paper, Bennett put out a restraining hand to stop her. ‘You need to think this through first, my darling,’ he said gently. ‘There’s still the business of what you saw at the gatehouse. Sir William may be dead and Albert a wanted man, but Rufus and his mother are still very much alive. Before you begin a letter you must be clear on what it is right to divulge.’
Chastened, Hope slumped back down on to the camp bed.
‘Damn it!’ she exploded. ‘If I can’t tell Matt about the Captain’s letter, or about Albert and Sir William, what reason can I give for leaving?’
Bennett pulled her to him and hugged her tightly. ‘I think you must wait until you’ve spoken to Captain Pettigrew,’ he said. ‘You will need to feel your way carefully and try to find out how the land lies back home.
‘Pettigrew struck me as a good man – he wouldn’t have come to see me unless he cared about Nell, and therefore you too. But we have to remember that it wasn’t very honourable to be making love to another man’s wife.’
‘Maybe he always knew what Sir William was?’ Hope suggested. ‘He is a man of the world after all. He might even be intending to marry Lady Harvey now she is free.’
Bennett nodded. ‘True. But you can’t assume anything, and you must remember that the knowledge you have about Sir William is, in the wrong hands, as potentially dangerous as a keg of gunpowder. Therefore you must be careful you don’t accidentally light the fuse.’
Hope went to bed that night with so much on her mind that sleep was impossible. However shocking and sad it was that Sir William was dead and Briargate gone, she was delighted that Nell was no longer with Albert. She would have been happier still if she’d known exactly where her sister was, how Rufus had taken his father’s death, and what he was doing now. But at least she could ask the Captain these questions without having to divulge anything else.
Unfortunately, as Nell had always believed Albert had killed her, Pettigrew was bound to question her about what happened the day she disappeared from Briargate. Should she admit she knew he was Lady Harvey’s lover? Would he believe the intercepted letter was the sole reason Albert had been able to force her to leave?
The following day Hope felt calmer and had new resolve. She wasn’t going to worry herself about questions Captain Pettigrew might ask her. The most important thing was to find out where Nell was, and then write to her. A complete explanation wasn’t necessary immediately; Nell would be happy just to know she was alive and well.
Later that same day the order came that all the troops would be departing from Varna to the Crimea by the end of the week, and this temporarily put Captain Pettigrew and Nell out of Hope’s mind.
The news was received with universal delight, giving a much-needed lift to everyone. The soldiers took the view that they’d come out here to fight a war, and they wanted finally to get to it, beat the Russians and be home for Christmas. Bennett and the other doctors felt the troops’ health would improve with a sea voyage.
The cholera death rate had risen even more sharply during August. Proper funerals had been abandoned long ago, for there were too many, and it was too depressing for the living. Now corpses were just carted away to a communal pit without any ceremony.
But there were thousands more suffering from fevers, bowel complaints and other problems which were attributed to the unhealthy marshy parts of Varna and a poor diet. In truth, in both the French and the English camps there were not many men who could be described as fighting fit.
What with packing and organizing the closure of the hospital, there was no opportunity for Hope to make the journey to the cavalry camp. She had to assume that Captain Pettigrew was in similar straits for he did not come down to the hospital again.
All at once the harbour was full of ships, and the demarcation began. But just as she had got all her and Bennett’s personal belongings ready to be taken aboard, she heard that Lord Raglan had given the order that none of the officers’ wives would be allowed to go with their men.
Hope was horrified, for it seemed no alternative provision had been made for them either.
In fact very few officers’ wives had come on to Varna, and most of those who had were so dispirited they would be glad to get a ship back to Constantinople or Malta. Lady Errol and Mrs Duberly, the paymaster’s wife, did want to go on with their husbands, but they had friends in high places and would almost certainly find a way around the order. But Hope had no such influence.
Bennett turned to his commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Lawrence, for advice and his suggestion was that Hope should be smuggled immediately into Bennett’s cabin on the Pride of the Ocean, the ship their company was due to take, and stay there until the ship sailed. Lawrence thought that as long as Lord Raglan didn’t see her, they would be in the clear.
So Hope had to endure several days shut up alone in a stuffy cabin, without even Queenie for company, for she and the other ranks’ wives wouldn’t join the ship until the date set for departure. Hope passed the time writing down all that had happened to her since leaving Briargate, in the hope that before long she could relate it all to Nell.
At dawn on 7 September, the Pride of the Ocean finally left Varna, and Hope was at last able to go up on deck and breathe some fresh air. It was good to see Queenie again and to hear her funny stories about the chaos during the last days in Varna, yet even better to see that men who had looked sickly as she watched them waiting on the quayside, already appeared to be regaining their vitality in the sea breezes.
Bennett, however, was more concerned with the ambulance carts. It seemed they had been left behind at Varna.
After a day’s sailing they found themselves part of a vast armada. There were hundreds of steamers and sailing ships which made an
awe-inspiring and beautiful sight. Anchors were dropped, the officers went to and fro visiting other ships in rowing boats, and although no one seemed to know what they were all waiting there for, it was generally supposed that the commanding officers were still planning their tactics.
Finally, on the 14th, the anchors were hauled up and they set sail again. The first sight of the Crimea was not cheering. It looked a very inhospitable, bleak and barren place, with no sign of any people or even animals.
At Eupatoria two officers went ashore to receive the surrender of the port, but apparently it proved unsuitable as a base. It was decided that the following day all troops were to be landed further along the coast at Calamita Bay. From there they would march to Sebastopol to take it.
Bennett was closeted with Lieutenant Colonel Lawrence for some time that evening, and when he returned to Hope he looked troubled.
‘You’ve got to stay on the ship while I go with the regiment,’ he sighed. ‘It seems we’ve got a long march and the Colonel believes we may run into Cossacks.’
Hope realized that although he was worried about her, he was even more concerned about the health and welfare of the men in his regiment.
Bennett liked order, and it was plain to him that his superiors had given very little thought to what would happen to any casualties if the army was attacked on the march. He and the other surgeons would of course be there to dress the wounds, but with no ambulance carts and no hospital set up to take the wounded, they were likely to die.
‘Don’t worry about me,’ Hope said quickly. ‘I expect I’ll be taken to wherever the base camp will be, and I’m sure they’ll have a hospital set up by the time you get there.’
The following morning Bennett stood by the ship’s rail watching as the French disembarked from their ships with customary efficiency. A group of them were already raising their flag in the sand. When their ships had moved on, the English would go ashore too.
Calamita Bay was a long sweep of coast with a narrow sandy beach, and a large lake beyond. Fine rain was falling, so visibility was poor, but Bennett believed Sebastopol to be some twenty-five to thirty miles further down the coast. It looked a Godforsaken place, just windswept scrubby grass for miles. He wondered idly how long he’d have to wait to see his first Russian. He supposed that in their grey uniforms they’d be quite hard to spot.
His thoughts turned to Hope. She had stayed in the cabin to mend a shirt with a ripped seam. He hadn’t the heart to tell her that he couldn’t take a change of clothing, it would only worry her.
He had been blessed in finding her. He couldn’t think of even one other man who had a wife to equal her. She was brave, adaptable and uncomplaining, all the virtues an army wife needed. But there was so much more to her than that; she was funny, passionate, kind, fiery when pushed too far, and so beautiful too. Those dark smouldering eyes, full lips and smooth flawless skin had captivated him right from the start; he didn’t think he’d ever tire of looking at her.
It was a new experience to be envied by other men. He could almost hear them thinking, ‘Howdid he manage to get a woman like her?’ At school and at university he’d mostly been ridiculed by his peers. He wasn’t handsome, not good at games or riding, he studied too hard, and he had never managed to acquire sophistication or a way with the ladies. Somewhat fortunately, an army surgeon wasn’t expected to have these singular talents, but it felt rather good to see other men supposing he had them because of Hope.
She was exceptional: her natural poise, charm and nursing skills had won her respect from even the biggest snobs among the officer class. Yet her real beauty lay in that she was unaware of her own worth. She didn’t have any idea that half the regiment called into the hospital at Varna with trivial complaints, wanting only to bask in her attention for a minute or two.
Bennett smiled to himself remembering how she had clambered up into the top bunk with him before daybreak today without a stitch of clothing on. At least that memory would keep him going for a few days!
It was late afternoon before Bennett disembarked from the ship, one of the last to leave. He stood on the beach, waving and blowing kisses to Hope as the ship sailed away.
All day he’d forced himself to pretend enthusiasm for the march, making jokes about how bored he’d been on the ship and that he needed some exercise. But in reality his heart was in his boots. And now she was gone it was going to be so hard to pretend to be confident and optimistic.
It was still raining, many of the men were suffering from diarrhoea, and Bennett didn’t think any of them were fit enough for a long march.
An hour later, when all the ships were just specks on the horizon, it was discovered the tents hadn’t been unloaded. The lake had turned out to be salt water too, and there was no fresh water anywhere.
Then the fine rain became a fearful storm, and because the men had been made to leave their packs on board, they had nothing but their greatcoats and a blanket to cover themselves with.
There was no shelter anywhere. The men huddled together miserably in torrential rain, unable to sleep because they were so wet and cold.
Bennett was relieved when dawn came, for it had been the most miserable night of his life. It defied belief that something as basic as shelter had been forgotten. He thought the officers responsible should be court-martialled.
The sun came up as they began the march, quickly drying out the men’s clothes, but there was still no water and they were forced to drink from rainwater puddles.
Worse still, Bennett could see that cholera had come with them. He sawmen doubled up in pain, but still trying to keep on marching. He could do nothing for them, for there was no transport to get them back to a ship, nor even a field hospital where they could be left. He and his medical assistants were providing the only medical help for the entire regiment. Their equipment consisted of a couple of straw baskets of dressings, bandages and a variety of operating tools slung into one of the panniers on the packhorse.
Bennett hoped the Russians weren’t lying in wait ready to attack. He didn’t doubt the courage of the men, nor their ability to put up a strong fight, even if they were sick and tired. But he did doubt his own ability to treat serious wounds with such limited supplies.
Hope was awakened on the morning of 22 September by Queenie banging on the door of her cabin, demanding to be let in.
After the men disembarked at Calamita Bay the ship had sailed back to Eupatoria with the rest of the fleet and weighed anchor just outside the harbour. If Hope hadn’t been so worried about Bennett, and frustrated that she couldn’t talk to Captain Pettigrew about Nell, it would have been idyllic, for the weather was perfect – warm, with a very calm sea. It was peaceful too, for there was only a handful of people left on board, mostly staff on the administration side of the army and a few civilians involved with provisions. Hope had spent most of the time dozing on deck, or playing cards with Queenie.
Queenie ought to have gone on the march with the other soldiers’ wives, for they were needed to do the cooking and washing for all the men, but Robbie had asked Bennett if she could stay on the ship with Hope because he was afraid she wouldn’t be able to keep up. Bennett had been only too glad to agree as he hadn’t liked the idea of his wife being left alone without a female companion.
‘Whatever’s wrong, Queenie?’ Hope grumbled as she got out of her bunk to open the door.
Queenie burst in, her face damp with tears and her eyes brimming with more. ‘There’s been a terrible battle and thousands killed,’ she burst out. ‘Do you think my Robbie’s safe?’
For a moment or two Hope was more shocked by Queenie’s tears than by the news she’d brought, for the girl was always so bright and bouncy, regardless of what was going on all around her.
‘I’m quite sure he’s safe,’ Hope said, enfolding Queenie in her arms. ‘Now, where did you get this information?’
They had heard guns a couple of days earlier, but Captain Kyle had claimed it was the Russians along at Seb
astopol, and they were probably firing at a Turkish ship that had come too close.
Queenie was crying too hard to make any sense, so after Hope had dressed she went to see the Captain.
‘There has been a battle,’ he agreed. ‘I don’t know about the casualties yet. But I don’t think they can be as high as you’ve been told.’
There were several more days of terrible tension before the Pride of the Ocean sailed into the harbour at Balaclava, which had been designated as the British base camp. In Eupatoria, rumours had been rife. At one point it was said that the whole cavalry had been wiped out, and Lord Errol of the Rifles killed. Queenie remained tearful, pacing up and down the deck wringing her hands, and all Hope could think was how on earth would the surgeons cope if there were so many casualties.
It transpired that the cavalry had not been wiped out, and Lord Errol had only been wounded in the hand, needing a finger amputated. But there had been a battle. It was at the river Alma, some twenty-five miles from Calamita Bay, and the 1st, 2nd and Light Divisions had all been engaged. Though it was a victory in as much as the British had attacked and seized the Russians’ redoubts and defences, there were serious losses, with over two thousand British killed and wounded. And the French casualties were reported to be higher still.
The port of Balaclava was little more than a single street nestling in the cleft of two formidable steep hills. But it was a good, safe, albeit small harbour, the inlet leading to it almost concealed from passing shipping by high cliffs. Apparently, a few pot shots had been fired at the advance party of soldiers who’d arrived to take it, but there was no further resistance, and the town’s baker had come out with a roast turkey and some bread for the soldiers.
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