The Winter Soldiers

by Garry Douglas Kilworth

  ‘Good, then you can join us for a game of whist – Mrs Durham is due shortly, and she will make the fourth.’

  ‘I think I’d rather . . .’

  ‘Oh, do stay,’ said Jane, quickly.

  Jane was wearing a white dress and seemed gay enough. But her looks belied the merriment in her tone. She looked very tired, with dark shadows around her eyes and her complexion pale, almost wan. If there had not been a lilt to her voice he would have believed she was close to exhaustion. How she contrived to keep herself so clean and bright was remarkable in a place where the mud crept up one’s boots and reached one’s collar.

  Indeed Lavinia Durham arrived next in riding habit and covered in spots of mud. She put her riding crop on the cottage table and said, ‘Yes, do stay, Alexander, that is to say, Jack.’ She shook her blouse in a most unladylike way. ‘That is, if you can forgive me for looking like a hoyden. My horse insisted on going through every puddle from here to the Heights.’

  ‘Oh – very well then. I could do with some relaxation.’

  Lavinia Durham went for a wash and came back changed, her hair freshly combed and her face pink.

  ‘I swear Mrs Durham if you were not married to Captain Durham I should ask for your hand right now,’ said Jarrard. ‘I’ve never known a woman like you. You take less time than my manservant to get yourself ready. Most ladies I know would have been in that room for a prehistoric age.’

  ‘Oh, you don’t believe all that rubbish, do you?’

  The men were both mystified. ‘What rubbish?’ asked Jarrard, thinking she must mean his observations on her sex.

  ‘Prehistoric ages. There’s no such thing. Don’t you believe in your bible, Mr Jarrard?’

  Light showed through Jarrard’s cloudy thoughts. ‘Some of it, yes. But I don’t believe the world began 4,000 years ago at ten o’clock in the morning, as the good bishops will have us believe. Do you?’

  To the astonishment of the two men, Lavinia Durham said primly, yes she did. ‘I am firmly of that opinion. It is there in black and white, Mr Jarrard, for all to read. These things they call “fossils” have been manufactured in secret on some island in the Pacific and scattered by heretics in places like Lyme Regis. No one will persuade me otherwise. Good Heavens, why, do you think they find the things all in one place? If these fossils of other creatures were indeed from our distant past, why, they would be in your garden, and mine, and in every garden in the kingdom.’

  Jane nodded, adding that Lavinia’s arguments seemed very sound.

  ‘Well,’ said Crossman, ‘I had no idea you were so against the new thinking, Lavinia. I can’t tell you why we don’t find fossils in our back yards, because I don’t know why. I’m not a natural historian. And I have a belief in God as strong as the next man. But I see no reason why He couldn’t have made creatures thousands of years ago . . .’

  ‘Millions,’ corrected Jarrard.

  ‘Millions of years ago, then, though my mind finds such figures hard to contemplate.’

  ‘You don’t believe in Adam and Eve then?’ asked Jane. ‘Fie, sir, you are unromantic’

  Crossman looked helplessly at Jarrard. ‘What has romance to do with anything? I swear, Jarrard, I know why I never win an argument with a woman. It’s because they shift the battleground from under one’s feet without a by-your-leave. One moment the subject is this, then just when one is about to administer the coup de grace, one finds the subject has changed completely. We are not talking about romance, cousin, we are speaking of the validity of the fossilized remains of animals, fish and birds.’

  ‘And you don’t find that unromantic?’

  ‘It has nothing to do with it. Romance does not come into the picture at all. Good Lord, let’s play cards before my mind spins out of my skull. You exasperate me, all you women. I simply can’t be doing with it.’

  A hand was dealt during which time Crossman’s temper was not improved by Jarrard whispering in his ear, ‘I swear you would have called me out, if Lavinia Durham had not arrived at the party.’

  Crossman made no comment other than to place a card down on the table with a little more force than was actually necessary.

  ‘By the way,’ he said, looking up, ‘why are we here?’

  ‘Is that a philosophical question?’ asked Jarrard. ‘Are we back to God and his works?’

  ‘No, I mean, this was General Enticknap’s cottage – who owns it now that he’s dead?’

  The cards fell from Jane’s hand and Lavinia went almost as white as the wall behind her. ‘Dead?’ whispered Lavinia.

  Crossman realized he had dropped a stone into a calm pond. ‘You hadn’t heard,’ he said. ‘General Enticknap committed suicide. He shot himself . . .’

  Jarrard made a noise in his throat which told Crossman that this was news to his American friend too.

  Jarrard said, ‘What I heard was that the good general was being investigated for corruption. Was it to do with that, Jack?’

  ‘I have no idea. Lovelace told me the moment I returned. Enticknap shot himself twice in the chest, in a locked room.’

  Jarrard’s reaction to this news was much the same as Crossman’s – incredulity. While they were talking the ladies left the room and Crossman could hear Lavinia quietly sobbing in another room, and Jane saying, ‘. . . that sweet, elderly man.’ Jarrard said the circumstances sounded highly suspicious and he was going to get to the bottom of it. Finally, the women came back in, Lavinia bearing a tray with drinks.

  ‘I think we need something to fortify us,’ said Lavinia, now completely calm and mistress of her emotions once more. ‘I must say that was a great shock, Alexander. That was too bad of you. I realize, however, that you were not aware that it was news to us.’

  ‘I’m sorry for it, Lavinia. I did think the facts were general knowledge. Please forgive me.’

  She kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘Of course I forgive you. But if you don’t mind, I would rather not continue with the subject. I have to have time to absorb the news. I think you’ve told us all you know, have you not?’

  ‘I have indeed.’

  ‘Then I think we had better not pick at it like vultures. I’m sure many of the gossips will be doing so tonight and I believe his memory deserves better. He was a good friend to me. It is very sad.’ Having stated she did not wish to dwell on the subject, Lavinia then went on to speak about it at length, during which time Crossman went through all kinds of agonies of guilt. ‘I hope he was not driven to this extreme by persons jealous of his position. I refer to his close friendship with Lord Raglan. There were those, you know, who envied General Enticknap a great deal. Some will stoop to the most unseemly behaviour to get what they want. There were rumours that there was some kind of plot against him. While I dismissed it as idle chatter at the time, I am now beginning to wonder . . .’ She continued in this vein for quite a time. There was little response from either of the men or Jane and eventually her clock of fury ran down. Jarrard patted her hand and she rallied with a sigh, to say, ‘Let us speak no more of the matter tonight. This is a happy gathering. Alex – that is to say, Jack – has returned to us in good health – look.’ Exasperation now followed the other series of emotions. ‘This is all most confusing Alexander, this nom-de-plume of yours. I don’t know why you have to parade around with an assumed name, now that your father is aware of who and what you are. It would save the rest of us tying our tongues in knots, you know.’

  ‘It’s not a nom-de-plume, Lavinia,’ he replied, gently. ‘I didn’t invent it for the purpose of writing. And it would be difficult to change it back to my real name, even though its original purpose has gone. You may call me Alexander, Rupert will call me Jack, and Jane shall call me Cousin. I promise you I shall respond to all three with equal alacrity. Look on me as all three in one – an Unholy Trinity.’

  Lavinia drew in a shocked breath. ‘Alex, that is a most improper remark.’

  Crossman could not fathom this side of Lavinia Durham, her high moral tone
when it came to Christian matters. In all other things she was totally irreverent. In fact, even regarding certain Christian matters. He knew of at least one of the Ten Commandments she had broken with ease, being the other participant in that breaking. He could not understand it but he did not believe her to be a hypocrite, exactly. It was more a confused set of beliefs, as if her Truths had been collected in a box and the box shaken violently, so that they all became as entangled as fish hooks.

  ‘The answer to an earlier question you asked, Jack,’ Jarrard said, now lighting up a cigar, ‘is that I now rent this little dwelling. You are a guest in my house, Jack. So you had better be on your best behaviour.’ He stuck the cigar in the corner of his mouth, his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, and grinned.

  ‘Unlike you, Mr Jarrard,’ said Jane with a mock haughty expression on her face, ‘who did not ask permission of the ladies to light up one of those pieces of tarred rope you seem to enjoy smoking.’

  Jarrard whipped the cigar from his mouth. ‘I do most sincerely apologize. May I smoke?’

  ‘Yes, you may.’

  ‘So,’ Crossman continued the conversation, ‘we are on American soil?’

  ’You are, Jack, you are. I was going to tell you earlier, but it slipped my mind. Now that you know, I must insist that we play an American card game instead of this insipid whist thing. Poker. Poker’s the game.’

  ‘But I do not know how to play poker,’ Jane replied.

  ‘Nor I,’ said Lavinia.

  ‘In that case,’ replied Jarrard, ‘go and fetch your jewellery ladies, and any spare money you might have to hand.’

  The pair of women stared at him, mystified.

  ‘He’s joking,’ said Crossman. ‘Poker is a game of chance. You wager on each hand and try to outwit your opponents by pretending to have a winning set of cards. Rupert here practises his poker expression in front of the mirror for hours on end. The idea is to give away nothing. If you have a tic, which I’m glad to say neither of you ladies has . . .’

  ‘I should think not,’ interrupted Jane.

  ‘. . . then you will lose your fortunes.’

  ‘Oh,’ cried Lavinia, ‘I love such games. I have been an actress, you know, in amateur productions. I shall be able to put on a face of stone. I may even curl my lip in contempt, to emulate the expression on the face of the Ozymandias statue. Mr Shelley’s poem? There will be no need for me to practise for hours in front of mirrors like Mr Jarrard here.’

  In the end, the game of poker was between Lavinia Durham and Rupert Jarrard, with Sergeant Crossman advising Lavinia, and Jane Mulinder simply watching and dropping in a comment now and again. During the game there was a sharp knock on the front door. Crossman whispered, ‘Raise him two kingdoms and a republic, while I answer that.’

  On opening the door, Crossman was confronted by the vision of Lieutenant Pirce-Smith in full uniform, headdress under his arm. Both men, unnerved, stared at each other in the lamplight with varying degrees of shock and confusion. It was Lavinia who broke the deadlock.

  ‘Oh, Lieutenant Pirce-Smith, do come in.’

  The officer automatically stepped inside, but then seemed anxious to leave immediately.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I had not realized – a gathering – it would not be right for me to stay – Sergeant Crossman is here.’

  ‘You sound as if Sergeant Crossman is the enemy, lieutenant,’ Lavinia said, rising to offer him her hand. ‘Surely we are all on the same side?’

  ‘Your servant, ma’am. Ah, thing is – you must be aware – officers and ranks – not allowed to socialize.’

  ‘Yes, I know that, officially. But we’re all friends here. No one is going to report you to – who is it, Major Lovelace? Why, Alexander even shares a room with Major Lovelace, so even if someone did say something it would all be simply air in the wind, so to speak.’

  ‘Alexander?’

  ‘That is to say, Jack, or to be more proper, Sergeant Crossman.’

  Pirce-Smith looked utterly confused. ‘I am completely at a loss, ma’am.’

  ‘May I ask what you’re doing here, sir?’ asked Crossman. ‘This is no longer General Enticknap’s cottage.’

  ‘Oh,’ interrupted Jane, coming forward, ‘it’s my fault. I invited him. I knew he was in your group, Alexander, and we ran into one another in the Vanity Fair. Lieutenant Pirce-Smith was kind enough to assist me in haggling over the price of a leather purse. I felt sure it would be all right, so I asked the lieutenant if he would like to join us. Of course, I didn’t say who the us was going to be, but here we all are.’ She smiled bewitchingly, at each of the men in turn.

  ‘You will stay, lieutenant?’ asked Lavinia.

  He seemed to grip his headgear more tightly. ‘Well . . .’

  ‘Of course he will,’ cried Jarrard, placing an arm around the lieutenant’s shoulders. ‘This is my house, sir. You are welcome. Dismiss from your mind the fact that Sergeant Crossman is here.’ Jarrard waved the hand with the cigar in it, expansively. ‘Imagine, if you will, that he is somewhere out on the Crimean peninsula, hunting Russians.’

  Crossman was thinking that would be very difficult for a man of Pirce-Smith’s limited imagination. However, he was surprised when his lieutenant agreed to this compromise. When Crossman tried to speak to him later, though, Pirce-Smith ignored him and Jarrard, fumbling with some cards, said, ‘You don’t understand the situation, Jack. You are out somewhere on the steppes, while Lieutenant Pirce-Smith is here in this room. He cannot converse with you, nor you with him. The distance in miles is too great.’

  ‘What?’

  Pirce-Smith smiled. It seemed that it was he, Crossman, who had a restricted imagination after all. He gritted his teeth and, to the amusement of the two women, he fell in with the game.

  ‘Here is a message on the telegraph, to you, Rupert. Will you please discover from Lieutenant Pirce-Smith where he has been these last few weeks?’

  ‘To Sergeant Crossman,’ Jarrard said, looking over the top of his cards. ‘Your message received and understood. Stand to while I speak with the third party. Lieutenant, where have you been these last few weeks? I have an enquiry here from Sergeant Crossman, of the 88th Connaught Rangers. Fancy Jack, they call him, on account of the way he wears his socks.’

  ‘You may inform Sergeant Crossman that I have been doing field work with Major Lovelace.’

  Crossman was piqued to hear that Pirce-Smith had been out on a fox hunt with Lovelace. Lovelace had never taken Crossman out on a mission with just the two of them. It seemed that officers, after all, trusted only each other. Lovelace was grooming Pirce-Smith for higher things, while Crossman was being left behind. How irksome! Right at that moment Crossman wished he were out on the steppes, so that the others could not see his face, for he was sure it was registering his jealousy. He turned away in embarrassment and kept his face averted until the conversation amongst the others resumed normalcy. Finally, he stood up and said quietly, ‘I can see my presence here is a problem. I do not much like being treated as if I were not in the room. Thank you, Lavinia and Cousin Jane, for your company this evening. Jarrard. I shall see you later? Lieutenant?’ He came to attention and saluted Pirce-Smith, then walked to the door, opened it, and went out into the night. The air was cool on his face. Strangely he felt a sense of betrayal from his friends. It was Pirce-Smith who was the outsider, not he, and he did not quite like being the butt of the joke for the evening. He stood for a moment and listened for any laughter in his wake. Hearing none, he began to stride out towards Kadikoi, until he heard a soft call behind him.

  ‘Alexander?’

  It was Jane, tripping lightly through the mud. She caught up with him.

  ‘You shouldn’t have walked out like that. Everyone is feeling awful about you.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Now, that is not like you, to be so petty. The cousin I knew in England would not have been so silly.’

  He was beginning to feel silly now.

 
‘I’m sorry, Jane. I can’t bear that fellow. He stands on the points of his collars all the time.’

  ‘Oh, he’s a bore, but there’s no harm in him, Alexander. I’m sure he’s feeling ghastly about you now.’ She giggled. ‘You can be a bit stuffy too, sometimes, you know. Remember the clocks? And he’s such a young man, under that uniform, trying to do the right thing and not really knowing what that is in a given circumstance. I think he’s just a little bit jealous of you.’

  ‘Of me?’ Crossman was genuinely surprised.

  ‘Of course. You are so self-assured. You glow with confidence. You are a man and he knows he is still a boy. The difference in your ranks makes it that much worse for him. Why, as an officer he feels he should know more than you, should be better at things than you, should have more experience of making decisions and judgements. Yet he finds that in all these things, he is your inferior. That must be irksome.’

  ‘If it’s true, it must.’

  ‘Of course it’s true. You are the master and he the apprentice, the novice, yet he feels it should be the other way around. Sometimes he must all but choke under his stock when he sees how you do the right thing with consummate ease, while he has to agonize over such decisions.’

  ‘He doesn’t strike me in that way. He seems unwilling to learn and refuses to take advice.’

  ‘Oh, he’s taking it, but he must not let you see that he’s taking it.’

  Crossman sighed. ‘I suppose that makes sense, somehow. Jane, may I ask you a very personal question?’ He turned to face her and noticed that her skin was shining in the moonlight. Behind them were the ships, bobbing in the harbour, a forest of masts above them. Lamps were swinging in the breeze, shooting beams across the surface of the black water.

  ‘If you must.’

  ‘Why did you come to the Crimea?’

  ‘Because you told me of the flowers, sun and sky, and the deep blue of the waters.’

  ‘You are bamming me! You surely didn’t believe all that? It was meant to be light-hearted banter.’

  She laughed. ‘Yes, I am making fun of you. Alex, after your letter I felt the most irresistible urge to come and see for myself. There was little to keep me in England, and I . . .’