by Jack Murray
Even Lady Emily seemed genuinely touched by her present, a hat that had been imported specially from a leading Parisian milliner. She looked at the two girls and said, ‘Well I don’t have to guess who chose this. Thank you, girls. It’s beautiful and I shall not only treasure it, I shall wear it often.’ Esther and Mary both gave their aunt a hug.
The most delighted of the party was Reverend Simmons. He received, from the Cavendish family, the gift of a boxing glove reputed to have been worn by Bob Fitzsimmons, the last British man to hold the World Heavyweight Championship.
‘How on earth did you ever get hold of this?’ he said to Cavendish.
‘I have my sources,’ replied Cavendish smiling but added nothing more. Strangerson, inevitably, believed the sharing of gifts called for further toasts and he nobly offered to pour drinks for the assembled party. Both Cavendish and Lady Emily declined but even Henry had a small brandy after receiving a nod from his mother.
With the exchange of presents completed, the party sat down and chatted for the next hour in groups varying in composition. Kit managed to spend a little more time with Esther, content to listen to her. She spoke of life at Cavendish Hall. Although she clearly enjoyed living at the Hall, Kit detected a longing for something more. The life she had in London jobs during the War had, perhaps, created an appetite to join the vast movement of women in the country who were finding a voice and a purpose beyond the home.
The shortage of men meant there had been a need for women to fill posts formerly occupied by men. Much to Kit’s amusement, she related her time as a bus conductor in the centre of London. It seemed so at odds with the exquisite woman sat beside him. Esther appeared to enjoy doing something in support of the War effort but laughed easily at how strange it appeared in retrospect.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kit saw Mary looking at him. How different she was: lively, playful and rejoicing in impertinence. Underlying this was a seriousness that was well concealed behind a teasing facade. She was sitting with Lady Emily and Cavendish. Perhaps he was imagining it, but she seemed more interested in the conversation he was having with Esther.
Strangerson, meanwhile, seemed to be making progress in bringing Henry out of himself. They were both standing by the French windows. At one point, Strangerson looked out the window said, ‘My word, the snow is fairly pouring out of the sky.’
They all went to the window to look. It was true. ‘I hope no one is out in this weather tonight,’ observed Simmons. There was a murmur of assent to this remark.
There was a loud rap at the front door. This caused Esther to gasp. Mary turned to her sister with a grin, ‘Just like one of my ghost stories Essie. I wonder who it could be?’
A few minutes later, the door to the drawing room opened and Curtis introduced an unknown visitor. It should be added that Curtis, at this point in the early evening, had enjoyed his break from servant duties so much that it was difficult to understand what he was saying.
‘Mishter Wright,’ he stammered. There were suppressed smiles in the room at the appearance of a rather intoxicated Curtis. Recognizing his faithful servant had indulged heavily, Cavendish decided to protect him from any further exposure.
‘Thank you, Curtis, I don’t think we will be needing anything else. Please enjoy the rest of your Christmas. We can manage from here.’
Curtis bowed unsteadily and swayed with immense dignity, from the room. The stranger looked at everyone and said, ‘Actually my name is Doctor Richard Bright. I’m most terribly sorry to interrupt your Christmas celebrations.’
‘Nonsense, please sit down and have a Brandy,’ said Cavendish, who glanced at Strangerson. ‘I’m sure you must be frozen from being out in this weather.’
Bright walked into the room. He was a shade over six feet and dressed in an old but well-cut tweed suit, that could easily have been worn in the Tattersall’s.
‘Well, I am to be honest,’ laughed the Doctor.
‘What on earth were you doing out on Christmas night, particularly when it is as bad as this?’ asked Kit.
The Doctor turned to Kit and they regarded one another. Bright seemed to be a similar age to Kit. His brown hair was pushed off his forehead and his eyes were a very clear grey. Invited to sit down by Cavendish, he continued, ‘I was asked to locum for another doctor in the area, Doctor Stevens.’
‘Yes, I know Stevens. He’s getting on a bit. Like myself I suppose.’ This brought, as expected, denials from the group.
‘He asked me to stay with him over Christmas and do some work. His wife is unwell,’ Bright looked up at Cavendish as he said this. Cavendish nodded in understanding, which Kit took to mean the prognosis was not good. Bright continued, ‘He felt it would be too much, I suppose, to take care of Mrs Stevens and manage this area. Anyway, I received a call two or three hours ago to go to Leddings Farm, a few miles from here. Mrs Leddings was in labour. Happily, I helped her give birth to a baby boy. They say they’re going to name him Richard.’
Everyone congratulated him on his good work with the men shaking his hand and a hearty clap on the back from Strangerson. When all of the compliments had ceased, at the request of the two girls, Bright added more details on the baby before returning to complete his story.
‘After I left the house, I could see the weather had turned for the worse. Mr Leddings insisted I stay over but I told him I had to get back. I suppose I was hoping I’d get back to the Doctor’s before it got too bad. Alas, as you can see...’ He held his hands out and left the sentence unfinished.
‘Where is the car now?’ asked Cavendish.
‘About a quarter of a mile from the cottage in the middle of your grounds.’
‘It sounds like Bill Edmunds place probably,’ added Cavendish. ‘Well if you’re in a snow drift there, your car isn’t going anywhere. It’s at least three miles from Doctor Stevens’s house. I think you’ll be our guest tonight, Doctor Bright.’
‘I really can’t impose,’ insisted Bright.
‘Nonsense dear fellow, I won’t hear of it,’ asserted Cavendish.
Esther stood up and said to her grandfather, ‘I’ll tell Curtis to prepare the other guest bedroom.’ Mary joined her and they both left the drawing room
Bright, who had not really had the opportunity to see the Cavendish sisters unexpectedly reddened and stammered a thank you. This amused Kit immensely and he sympathized with the poor fellow. Both sisters knew how to make an impact on a poor chap’s senses. Another part of Kit felt a pang of jealousy. This seemed unaccountable to him and he quickly dismissed it. However, he ruefully admitted to himself, Bright was a good-looking fellow, with an easy smile and a steady gaze: a head could easily be turned.
Sam went over to inspect the visitor. Unusually for Sam, he did not treat the stranger as his mortal enemy. Almost immediately the doctor began to tickle Sam under his chin. This was something Sam loved and within a moment he was lying on his back demanding to be tickled further. This brought much laughter from the assembled party, even Henry could not resist a smile. “Et tu Sam”, thought Kit dolefully.
The girls soon returned and sat either side of Bright. Far from making Kit’s mood grow darker, it actually amused him. At this point he realized that both Cavendish girls were deliberately setting out to make him jealous. He speculated they had even planned the move while they had been out to brief Curtis. He caught Cavendish looking at him and he smiled back to reassure him that he knew the game. This caused Cavendish to roll his eyes a little by way of apology.
‘How long are you to stay in the area?’ asked Mary.
‘I’m not sure. As long as Dr. Stevens needs me, I suppose,’ replied Bright.
‘You don’t have anyone waiting for you back home?’ continued Mary shamelessly. This made Kit smile. He was beginning to recognize the mischievous nature of the younger sister.
Bright laughed sheepishly, ‘I suppose not. I have rooms in London but, to be honest, I’m usually away on one thing or another, I’ve barely stayed in them sinc
e before the War.’
Cavendish asked him if he had served in the Royal Army Medical Corps. Bright replied in the affirmative. He refrained from adding he had been an officer and served in the frontline but shrewd questioning from Kit forced Bright to come clean on what appeared to be an exemplary war record.
It seemed very clear to Kit that Mary, herself a nurse during the war, was absorbed in listening to the new arrival. Esther also. He had made quite an impression on the party in a short time. Even the glacial Lady Emily seemed to be interested in the young man’s story. Kit was not entirely sure how much he welcomed this.
Cavendish mentioned about Mary’s involvement with the Voluntary Aid Detachment, tactfully avoiding elaboration on the unusual circumstances that had led to her joining. Bright asked Mary, ‘What made you want to become a nurse?’
‘The option of being a Doctor, is still barred to women,’ came Mary’s sardonic reply.
‘I agree, with you Lady Mary,’ said Bright, ‘We’re long overdue a change in this and so many other areas related to women. I worked with countless nurses during the War who would’ve made very fine Doctors. I’m sure within our lifetime we’ll see this happen.’ He seemed in earnest and Mary nodded in agreement but added nothing more about her role, preferring to listen to Bright’s account of his time in France.
Not long after Lady Emily retired to her room but not before taking Cavendish aside and saying, ‘I believe Mr Curtis was inebriated.’
Cavendish merely shrugged and replied, ‘I believe you’re right Emily and I sincerely hope he was. A very Merry Christmas, indeed. I suspect he’s probably earned it – don’t you?’
As he said this, Cavendish felt a stab of remorse. Was he reopening old wounds? In fact, while his answer did not please Lady Emily nor did she seem angered by it, which, thought Cavendish was a welcome surprise. Perhaps she recognized also the sins of the past and how they had affected Curtis. Or perhaps the Snow Queen was beginning to thaw. He certainly hoped so.
Simmons and Kit were enjoying each other’s company immensely. They spent a good half hour in the period before Bright’s arrival, chatting about the noble art of boxing. Simmons was interested to hear about Kit’s own efforts in the ring when he was at school. This included the opportunity to share a ring with a ring legend also, Jem Driscoll.
‘How on earth did you ever end up in the ring with Driscoll?’ Simmons exclaimed askance. The Cardiff man was one of the most accomplished fighters of the era to emerge from Britain. Notwithstanding the difference in size between the tall lord, who Simmons judged to be a light-heavyweight, and the diminutive Welshman, who fought at featherweight, Simmons would have considered it a great mismatch; and not in Kit’s favour either.
With beguiling modesty Kit agreed with this assessment. ‘A long story but it reflects no credit on myself as I believe I played truant from school in order to spar with him. He went very easy on me, which is more than I can say for my form master when he heard about my expedition. I think it was a day or two before I could sit with any degree of comfort,’ smiled Kit remorsefully. Simmons left soon afterwards mentioning the weather was, if anything, worsening. Kit was sad to see him leave.
-
Incredibly, Miller’s Christmas was going from bad to worse. He was stuck with an increasingly incoherent Curtis. Elsie had fallen asleep and had been helped to bed by Miss Buchan, who herself had also retired. Godfrey and Agnes were proving to be exceptionally dull company. They spent most of their time talking to one another. Miller wondered if there was something going on between them. Good luck to you both, he thought sardonically – you’re well matched.
Worst of all, unless his senses were failing him, and he knew they were not, it was very clear Devlin and Polly were sweethearts. A little light amour with Polly would have been an ideal way to pass a cold Christmas evening. Instead it looked like the highlight of his Christmas would be a bottle of Scotch and the company of a pompous bore, who was recounting his life almost year by year. Did he hear right, had Curtis been married? Hard to tell, he had stopped listening almost as soon as Curtis had begun to talk. How he wished for something to liven things up. He would not be waiting long.
-
Around ten o’clock, Cavendish announced he also would retire and bid them goodnight. About ten minutes later, Strangerson also decided to call it a night, possibly suspecting there was one male too many circling the females.
Kit felt a stab of guilt at being glad Strangerson was out of the way leaving him, Bright and the two sisters plus Sam, snoring lightly on Esther’s lap. For all his waggishness, Kit guessed Strangerson was no fool and could read the situation between he, Bright and the girls.
The remaining party looked down at the little Jack Russell. ‘He’s definitely a man for the ladies,’ observed Kit.’
‘So, I see,’ grinned Bright.
‘He’s probably not used to being treated with kindness and gentleness,’ kidded Esther.
‘Indeed, his life is one of walks on cold moors, hunting and goodness knows what else,’ chimed Mary looking to make mischief.
‘I can assure you, Mary, quite apart from being one of the most well looked after pets in this country, he is, as you can see, profoundly untroubled by any kind of work ethic,’ joked Kit. ‘Don’t be taken in by this display. It starts like this, then he wants you to feed him, then it’s short walks and before you know it, you’re doing all the walking and he’s curled up in your arms enjoying the view.’ The group laughed affectionately.
Mary got up from her place beside Bright and looked out the window. ‘My goodness, look at the snow now. It really is getting worse. I think we shall be snowed in. How beautiful it looks though, and deadly. It wouldn’t do to be out tonight.’
‘I really am most grateful for your hospitality. It was getting rather cold out there.’
‘Really Doctor Bright, it’s nothing. No more please,’ smiled Esther.
‘I promise,’ smiled Bright.
Kit felt his stomach tighten a little as he watched the two of them smile at one another. Stop it, he almost shouted, but more for himself than to Esther or Mary. The thing was, he quite liked this fellow himself. He had clearly done his duty, as so many had, which made him a stout fellow. On top of this he had an easy charm, perhaps too much if the girls’ reactions to him were anything to go by. As much as he had enjoyed the day and as much as he was enjoying the evening the correct thing to do now, with Cavendish gone, was to retire. However, there was no question of Kit leaving the field free for Bright: he resolved to wait until either the girls or the Doctor decided to turn in.
As it happened, they did not stay a great deal longer in the drawing room. The sisters, perhaps intuitively understanding that by staying they were prolonging a primal contest in which they had complete power of choice, brought to an end Christmas Day. It was a day when romance and jealousy danced their strange tango and death was just around the corner.
Chapter 14
Easter, 1916: A British Prison
The prisoner woke with a start. The cell was beginning to let in light, but the gloom would not give up its hold over the cell yet. He guessed sleep was over, for the moment anyway. Rising from the bunk, he listened to the noises outside the door. There were muffled shouts and the rattling of keys being put in doors. His corridor remained empty so there was nothing else to do but return to the bed.
And wait.
How much time passed he could not tell, maybe half an hour. The crash of keys in the door told him they had come. No welcoming smile or cup of tea. No please or thank you. Why should he expect to receive anything? He was the lowest of the low, a dirty prisoner. A man without rights, a man without hopes, a man who had fought for his country.
Of course, there had not been much choice about joining. You had to, didn’t you? Everyone around you was getting involved. They would all see if you didn’t join. It was a just cause with a clear enemy who had to be defeated. It was for your family, for your country: for freedom.
Yet they were losing. There was no glimmering prospect of victory to lighten the heart of those who fought on.
‘Up! Move!’ shouted the guard.
‘A “please” wouldn’t hurt,’ responded the prisoner.
This was greeted with a shove out of the cell. ‘You won’t be laughing soon.’
‘I’m not laughing now, trust me.’
The guard recognized that trying to bully with words was probably not going to work with this prisoner. Instead he resorted, inevitably, to his one and only weapon. He struck the handcuffed prisoner across the back of his head.
‘Temper, temper,’ responded the prisoner but his head was spinning.
Another guard saw what was happening and shouted down the corridor, ‘Leave it. They won’t be happy if they see he’s been beaten.’
The guard stopped the assault and contented himself with kicking him in the backside as the prisoner made his way down the corridor. The other guard glared at him, so he stopped.
The two guards and the prisoner made their way into the open air. The prisoner drank in the sweetness of the air. How had he never realized before, its honeyed, rain-washed fragrance? The cold moistness bathed his skin, cleansing him of weeks locked and chained in the dank, depressing dungeon.
It was dawn. The sky was a tender pink mixed with another colour. He stared up at the sky as he was marched along trying to decide what the colour was. Yellow, he thought. Yes, it’s a soft yellow.
All around him he could see army men, like him. They were not looking at him. He tried to make eye contact with one of them. Nobody took him up on the offer. Shame, he guessed. Utter shame for what they had to do. Every one of them was tending to their weapon or chatting to a friend. He noticed the guard was no longer shoving him. Perhaps it would be unacceptable, in front of these men. They would know what he’d been through. He was like them. At this moment, he, the prisoner, felt some power returning. Stopping he turned to the guard who had been his tormentor for the last two weeks.
