Worth Their Colours (105th Foot. The Prince of Wales Own Wessex Regiment.)

by Martin McDowell

  “Captain Carr, we are singing “Come Thou Long Expected Jesus.” It’s Weslyan. Does that give you any cause for concern?”

  “No indeed, Ma’am. None at all.”

  “Do you know it?”

  “I’m afraid I do not, Ma’am, but if you find it acceptable, then I will just listen. At least for a while. I’ll join in when I feel able.”

  “Very well, here is the music. I’m sure I have no need to point out the bass line.”

  She reached behind her to an elegant beech wood table and picked up a sheet, and held it in Carr’s direction. He, remembering his manners, left his place to accept it. She called the choir to order and nodded her head in the direction of a girl of about middle teenage years who was at the piano. The bars of the introduction sounded out and off they went. Carr, indeed did not know the tune, but he did have an ear for music and a good sense of rhythm and so, by listening to his fellow bassists and reading the music, he was able to join in after not too long a period and his mistakes became less frequent and, more importantly, less profound. They sang two other carols and, quickly as it seemed to Carr, the session ended. Lady Fynings thanked them all for their attendance and remarked favourably on the quality of their singing that evening. Carr formed the opinion to himself that the praise was not mere flummery, the choir genuinely made a fine sound. Finally, she announced what he and Drake were most keen to hear, that food and refreshments were in the next room.

  The members filed out, some singly, some in pairs, but Carr noted that Drake and his attractive acquaintance had gone to each other as though magnetized and were the last in the line, her arm as far through his as convention would allow, both clearly very special to each other.

  “Captain Carr. May I introduce Miss Cecily Fynings? Niece of Lady Constance.”

  Cecily Fynings met Carr’s gaze confidently, before respectfully lowering her eyes of striking blue as she made a light, girlish curtsey. Carr placed his right hand over his midriff and bowed.

  “It is an honour to make you acquaintance, Miss Fynings. I trust I find you well?”

  “Quite well, Sir, thank you. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

  Smiles all round; the atmosphere was genuinely warm and pleasant. Drake looked from one to the other.

  “Food!”

  Cecily Fynings playfully pushed his shoulder.

  “I swear that’s the only reason why he comes. He can’t sing, he can’t read a note!” but her hands were on his forearm, gazing up.

  “I am much maligned! That is a malicious rumour, put about by those who wish to discredit me. I eat because of the effort I put into dragging this choir up to an acceptable quality.”

  They led off to the next room, their playful banter flowing back to Carr as he followed them to the table, which was, indeed, full and resplendent with a well cooked and well presented variety of dishes. Drake and Cecily soon took themselves off to a corner and were lost in each other and the items on the plate, which they both intimately shared.

  Carr helped himself; he was hungry, but finding himself alone he looked around the room and saw that it was a library of sorts and began looking at the titles on the shelves. He felt at peace, the food was indeed excellent, the company and setting civilian, thereby calm and comfortable, and he had enjoyed the singing. He was wondering if it would be ill mannered to extract a book and read some of its contents; he decided yes and his choice was half out when a voice that he now recognised as that of Lady Constance, spoke from behind him.

  “Captain Carr.”

  He turned immediately, the book he had half extracted tumbling to the floor. Lady Constance ignored it.

  “I have someone here who would like to meet you, Captain. May I introduce Miss Jane Perry?”

  Carr’s greeting of “Your Servant, Miss Perry, and a perfunctory bow were harshly terminated as he bent to retrieve the book. As he regained his height, she was just finishing her curtsey.

  “Do you count yourself as much of a reader, Captain Carr? Do you have a preference, prose or poetry? Or do you just throw the books around? ”

  He was struck with how carefully each syllable and each letter was spoken, all by a young woman almost as tall as himself, slim build, pleasant face and complexion, fair hair, but deep brown eyes that literally shone as they calmly regarded him, waiting for an answer. Carr was thrown, and stepped back, to collide with a chair. His questioner gave a slight smile.

  “No, Ma’am. Not a great reader. I was, but lately? No.”

  He paused, thinking of more to say.

  “I play a little backgammon, and have been known to sing from time to time, but these days my talents stop there.”

  “What talent does it take to read a book?”

  Carr realised he had chosen the wrong word.

  “No talent at all, I agree, but we are soldiering hard in these worrying times, and access to books is none too easy, nor the time to read them.”

  Lady Constance, who had been standing as a silent observer of the frosty exchange, interrupted.

  “I’ll leave you two to your conversation, if that’s the right word,” and she turned away. Carr bowed, Jane Perry curtsied.

  “You may have heard of my Father, General Perry. He’s the General for this area.”

  “I’m afraid I have not, Miss Perry. I’m only recently into this area. Prior to here I was more to the East of the country. Almost all here is new to me.”

  “Almost all?”

  “The army. That, of course, is familiar.”

  She paused and studied his face. She saw eyes that were not cold, but contained little emotion, and a mouth that tried to smile, but couldn’t quite make the last effort. She noticed the scar of the half healed wound dividing his left eyebrow. She spoke again, her diction as precise as before.

  “When you do read, what is your choice?”

  “Was, Miss Perry. History mostly, rarely novels. I enjoy, or rather did, reading about the Elizabeth I, and the Civil War.”

  “Violent topics, Captain Carr.”

  “True, up to a point, but both are not short on drama; nor on plot. I enjoy them as much as any novel.”

  He smiled slightly. She did not and she reached out to twist the book in his hand to enable her to read the title on the spine.

  “The Plantagenets. History, as you say, but your topic is widening.”

  He remained silent and she changed the subject.

  “And where did you take up singing?”

  Carr was grateful for the change and strangely, he felt happy to be so thoroughly questioned.

  “My Father insisted that I learn an instrument. The piano was his choice. My Tutor failed to teach me to play the piano, at least to any standard, but I did end up able to read music. In my last Regiment there were many Welsh, of all ranks, and I was sort of roped in.”

  He hoped that that would cause a smile, at least a mild thaw; but none came. Instead, the conversation took a considerable turn for the worse.

  “Your name has been mentioned within my family circle. At dinner, quite recently and not with pleasure. It seems Father has just received notification of your posting.”

  Carr sighed, the old subject. Her precise diction, clinical questions, and, tediously, the old subject. Just another kind of stone faced Carravoy. Gentility suddenly deserted him and irritation surfaced. It showed in both his voice and choice of words.

  “I think I can guess what it was in connection with; and at dinner! So lofty a setting. After which course? The soup? Or perhaps the roast would be more appropriate. Carving knives and things!”

  She ignored his sarcasm and his obvious annoyance.

  “I thought I would come and see the infamous Captain Carr for myself.”

  “Infamous! Yes, of course, and your conclusion?”

  “I’m keeping that to myself.”

  She swung her hips, girlishly, from side to side, as though winding herself up.

  “I don’t approve of duelling. I think it ridiculous. Such thing
s can be settled by argument. And evidence! It’s like some kind of feudal trial by combat. The winner has the right! How is that proven just because one is a better shot, or better with a sword? It’s absurd.”

  This calmed him, but he still felt impatient at having to justify himself.

  “Well my experience leads me to agree with you, but amongst society gentlemen it’s different. It’s part of the time in which we live. Good name and honour do matter, greatly, if you want to keep your standing and position. The pressure is huge.”

  It was now her turn for irritation.

  “Nonsense. You stand up and argue. Where’s your evidence, you say? If none, you’ve won the argument, and to the Devil with whoever and their swords and pistols! Those with the argument, they’re in the right.”

  The vehemence of her reply took Carr aback.

  “Well, it’s forbidden in the Army,” he replied weakly.

  “That didn’t stop you. Did it? You resigned your Commission, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, Miss Perry, I did, but you see an Officer who’s called out and doesn’t respond, loses the respect of his fellows and he’ll find himself cut out, even within his own Regiment. What’s more it could effect how he carries out his duties. You’ll get no support, no co-operation.”

  “Then you’re just a bunch of silly boys! That’s no argument at all. It’s time to grow up.”

  Carr sighed, and rubbed his cheek with his left hand, before raising his eyes to look at her again, measured belligerence in his tone.

  “Miss Perry. Did you come for an argument, or did you come to meet me?”

  “Both.”

  “Well, in reply, us “silly boys” will soon be off to war, to fight the French. I do think we should be given some credit for that. That said, you may be right, in fact I’m sure you are, but facing danger is our trade, Officers, I mean. If you back away, there is a question over your courage, you’ll be shunned and, what’s worse, not trusted.

  “I still say its absurd.”

  “I’ve agreed with you, but it happens. I’ll be truthful; I wanted to fight Templemere, after what he did. Calling me a cheat and a liar and emptying brandy all over me. I’d have been happy to fight him there and then. There is such a thing as self regard, at least in my book. Nations declare war over insults and minor incidents; a duel isn’t so very different. In many ways it does come down to self-respect, and there is much talk nowadays of national honour. One extreme gives rise to another. Reading history taught me that. In my defence, by the rules I could have killed him, but I didn’t.”

  “But from what I hear, you broke the rules.”

  As she spoke, at last she smiled, and Carr’s irritation, at a low ebb anyway, disappeared as smoke before a gale.

  “Yes I did, but, as I say, one extreme provokes another.”

  There was a pause and each regarded the other. Carr managed a half smile, he had detected a slight thaw between them, but then she continued the argument, with undiminished intensity.

  “I’m still not convinced. Settling disputes in such a manner proves neither right nor wrong and I’ve heard of some who are happy to start arguments, knowing that their duelling skill is very likely to get them through as the winner and, on top of that, a reputation as a duellist increases their standing in society. Does that apply to you?”

  “No Miss Perry, it was my first and I’ve decided my last and you’ve raised another issue. I’d go so far as to say that causing a duel knowing that you are highly skilled at it, certainly applies to our Lord Fred Templemere. However, as I say, it is forbidden in the Army and I for one think that to be a step in the right direction. I hope that the lead given by the Army will transfer itself across into what calls itself society and changes attitudes. Duelling has gained me nothing, I can say that without fear of contradiction.”

  “Except notoriety.”

  “Except notoriety.”

  He looked at her and it came as no surprise that he didn’t want to take his eyes away from what he saw, but he sighed again. He could see she was not content, even offended. Her last words were delivered as a judgment. He wondered if he could engage her on another subject, but his time had expired. A chubby, bespectacled Gentleman was calling out.

  “Jane, the carriage has come round. We’re leaving.”

  She looked around Carr to her informer.

  “Thank you, Edmund, I’ll just get my coat.”

  Carr stepped aside to allow her passage, it had been a disastrous introduction, but she remained and held out her hand for Carr to take, which he did, but when he relaxed his grip, she did not hers. Her words and tone were both in stark contrast to what had gone before, which both surprised and confused him,.

  “Good bye, Captain Carr. I would like it very much if we could talk again.”

  “I too. Goodbye, Miss Perry.”

  She looked into his face once more, and then was gone. Drake and Cecily came to his side.

  “Do you know who that is? She’s Jane Perry, daughter of our General, General Perry.

  “Yes, I know who she is, and she doesn’t like duelling and she doesn’t like me. Which the most, I can’t tell.”

  They did meet again, but not to talk once more at length. With Christmas so close, their choir went carol singing around the town and at various churches and concerts. There were no more post practice socials and always there was the General’s carriage to whisk her away, her Father not trusting the more remote parts of town, nor the villages. Most concerts were held in the homes of local notaries, including that of General Perry himself, but he exchanged not a word with Drake nor Carr, acknowledging their salutes with no more than a punctilious nod. Their final concert was in a local church and, their performance complete, the choir returned to their pews. Carr managed to manoeuvre himself into the pew behind her. When the time came to leave, he spoke to her as she passed.

  “Miss Perry.”

  She stopped and walked out of the aisle to join him in his space. The brown eyes shone just as before even in the weak candlelight, but this time he felt sure she was glad to see him.

  “I just wanted to wish you a merry Christmas, and a happy New Year. And I hope that things are well with you, and you are keeping …er… healthy.”

  The last word jarred clumsily in his throat, but she really was smiling, what at, he wasn’t sure.

  “Yes, Captain Carr, I am keeping healthy, and I wish a merry Christmas and a happy New Year to you also. How are things at your barracks?”

  “Oh, good enough, you know. Everyone’s making preparations for Christmas, it’s really quite pleasant. Just about everyone’s good company at this time of year.”

  She made no reply, only to look at him and continue smiling, but it ended. The same Edmund was calling for her.

  “I must go. If you see me again, do approach. You will, won’t you?”

  “Why yes, yes. You may count on it.”

  Then she was gone, but she did turn and wave at the transfixed Henry Carr. Drake and Cecily halted their own exit at where he stood.

  “Carr. You know what they say about the likes of us courting the General’s daughter. A one way ticket to the front rank.”

  “I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Drake. Miss Perry and I were merely exchanging Seasons Greetings,” but both Drake and Cecily, especially Drake, saw a cheerfulness in his face that had not been seen before, over the cold months of their acquaintance so far.”

  oOo

  Christmas Eve eve. There were few Officers in the barracks, most were using their leave, but in the barrack rooms the over population remained the same. All was good cheer, the decorations were complete, holly and ivy, each cutting carefully selected for its berries, hung from every beam and windowsill and coloured bunting stretched across as diagonals. Someone had managed to produce some Naval Signal flags; what they said no one knew but their bright colours certainly added to the overall effect. Each family had a collection of presents stored in whatever could be found, b
ox or sack or netting, each wrapped in cloth which did much to hide the contents, although the children took much time in studying each present, trying to identify the object through the encircling folds. Those adults who could write had written names in ink or charcoal on the wrapping, and most children could recognise their own name, which gave added urgency to the identification of those marked as theirs.

  The Christian importance of the time was not absent from any of the barrack rooms. Most had a Nativity and if not that, then some picture or symbol of the Sacred Birth, and it was upon these that the most careful attention had descended, mostly evergreens around it, but within the Nativity the detail was as good as could be produced, even the straw of the manger carefully sliced down and cut to scale. In their barrack Nativity, Joe Pike’s wise man was well to the fore, whilst Tom’s excellent donkey and shepherd were makeweights at the back, but even Tom Miles could see no cause for umbrage. This time of laughter and good neighbourliness had permeated even into him.

  For some weeks Davey and Sedgwicke’s barrack room, along with all others, had been preparing for the communal Christmas meal. The pork, peas and potatoes came as rations, but not, because they were in barracks, the highly popular figgy duff. All had been saving money for the vital ingredients; flour, sugar, suet and raisins, and these necessaries had to be obtained from outside in the town. They were to be boiled with great care and attention, tied as puddings in white sheets, on the barrack room cooking fire in its wide grate with its heavy metal range, under the supervision of the senior “wives”.

  On the morning of that day, ration duty fell to Davey and Sedgwicke. After their obtaining the pork, peas, potatoes and flour from the kitchen stores, the savings were handed over to them and safely stowed. Wearing both knapsacks and haversacks to carry back their purchases, they obtained permission from the Officer of the Day to leave the barracks and shop for what was needed for the much anticipated pudding treat. Davey, at least, knew the weighty responsibility he carried, such luxuries were rare and precious.

  Sedgwicke, however, had never shopped for food in his life and told Davey such. Davey gave him the simpler task of obtaining suet.