“You will make us into two fat ladies,” complained Henrietta. She looked wryly at her hands and I glanced at mine no longer beautiful.
Wielding a scrubbing brush and constant immersion in water had made them chapped, and the nails, which had been a problem often, were only just beginning to grow normally.
Henrietta said that our first task would be to bring them back to their pre-Kaiserwald state, for such hands as ours had become would never be accepted in London society.
“Are we going into London society?” I asked.
“We have to be ready to pursue our Devil Doctor whenever the opportunity occurs, and I have a notion that he moves in the highest circles.”
We smothered our hands in goose grease every night and went to bed in cotton gloves.
Often I thought of Gerda, and I felt a great anger against the man who had seduced her. I was sure it was he the man who had ruined Aubrey’s life and had failed to save my son’s. And I hated him as much as I ever had.
On the very day of our arrival, Lily came to see us. She was radiant and already looked a little matronly.
We told her how delighted we were and she talked a great deal about the coming baby; it was clear that she was a very contented young woman.
“And I owe it all to you. Miss,” she said.
“Just think, if I hadn’t been run down by your carriage …”
“Perhaps you owe it to the man who almost ripped off the buttons. You see, Lily, causes and effects are everywhere. They go back and back in time.”
“I suppose you’re right. Miss. But I reckon I owe it all to you.”
“I’m happy to see you happy, Lily.”
“There’s only one thing to worry us.”
“What’s that?”
“That William might have to go away.”
“You mean into foreign service?”
“Well, that wouldn’t be so bad, because I’d go with him, taking the baby. But it’s all this talk of war.”
“War?”
“Oh, you’ve been away. The papers have been full of it. Something about Russia and Turkey and all the people saying we ought to show ‘em, and calling for Lord Palmerston and all that.”
“I see.” Some of the joy had gone out of her face.
“You see. Miss, William is a soldier.”
“Yes, of course. It’s a pity. He might have been working in his father’s shop.”
“That’s what I’d like him to do. Of course, he looks very fine in his uniform.”
“And that’s how you fell in love with him. Don’t worry. Perhaps nothing will come of it. After all, the trouble is between Russia and Turkey.”
“That’s what William’s father says. But there’s been a lot in the papers and there are people as thinks we ought to be out there fighting.”
“Well, let’s hope nothing comes of it.”
But when I saw the papers and read some of the comments, I could understand why Lily was worried. I realized that in Kaiserwald we had been cut off from world affairs and that we were nearer to war than I had imagined. The great powers of Europe had attempted to intervene and bring about a peace between Russia and Turkey but Russia was determined to overcome what she called the “Sick Man of Europe’, meaning Turkey, and would accept nothing but surrender. Negotiations were broken off and war seemed imminent.
There was tension in the streets. Everywhere one went there was talk of war. The headlines in the newspapers demanded intervention; anyone who stood against it was a traitor. We should go in, it was said, and we could settle the Russians in a week.
Battles are so easily fought and won at the dinner table or in the clubs or any place where people congregate; and the war was the main topic. Lord Palmerston should come back. He would show the Russians the might of Britain. Something had to be done. Russia was not only threatening Turkey, but us. Aberdeen’s policy of peace at any price was the reason for Russia’s intransigence, said some. Had Britain stood up and showed her intention to save Turkey, it would never have gone so far.
“Call back Palmerston,” screamed the press.
They blamed the Queen who was known to be against war, but most of all they blamed her husband.
It could not go on.
A few weeks passed. It was March of that memorable year. The paper boys were running through the streets shouting the news and people were dashing out of their houses to buy papers.
“France declares war on Russia.”
Now how could Britain stand aside?
The very next day it came. We were drawn into the conflict.
The disastrous Crimean War had begun.
Poor Lily! Her joy was tempered with anxiety. William had his marching orders. Lily said twenty times a day: “They say it won’t last more than a week or two once our boys get out there.”
And we pretended to agree with her.
On the day William left we were all in the streets. The Queen watched the parade from the balcony at Buckingham Palace, proudly smiling down on all her fine soldiers. It was a splendid and deeply moving sight. The shouts were deafening and the people cheered the magnificent guards with the little drummer boys marching ahead on their way to embarkation at the docks. The triumphant sound of the bands rang out:
Some talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules Of Hector and Lysander, and such great names as these.
But of all the world’s great heroes, there’s none that can compare With a tow row row row row row for the British Grenadier.
I watched with the music ringing in my ears and looked at Lily who was soon to be a mother, and I prayed that William would come safely home to her.
Polly and Jane thought the soldiers were lovely and they were determined, as they said, ‘to jolly Lily out of herself, so we all went back to the house and talked about the baby and we showed Lily the clothes we had collected for the layette; and Lily’s spirits were lifted to some degree.
The next day we had a visitor. It was Charles Fenwick.
“I am in London for two days,” he said, ‘so I had to come and see you.
I am going to the Crimea. “
“When?” I asked.
“Immediately. The war has made up my mind. They are going to need doctors badly at the front. I applied to go and was accepted at once and I am on my way.”
“I wish you all the luck.”
He smiled at me and then at Henrietta.
“When I come back,” he said, ‘we must all meet again. May I call? “
“We shall be most put out if you do not,” said Henrietta.
Our leave taking was a little brusque. I think we were all trying to hide our emotions.
People could talk of hardly anything but war. I think they had expected miracles of the army and they were impatient because there was no news of victory.
Promptly on time Lily’s baby appeared and there was great rejoicing in both the Clift household and our own. Little Willie made even the war recede a little. He was a healthy, lusty boy and the pride of Lily’s heart. We discussed him endlessly; as for Jane and Polly, they were overcome with delight in the child.
The diversion was welcome, for the euphoria of the people was beginning to evaporate.
What was happening out there? The summer was almost over when we heard of the victory of the British and French at the Alma. The war would soon be over now, everyone was saying. Our soldiers were out there and that spoke for itself. But disturbing accounts were appearing in The Times, whose war correspondent, William Howard Russell, was sending home some very alarming despatches.
There was a cholera epidemic which had smitten the army and men were dying, not of battle wounds but of disease. The hospital equipment was pitiful. The organization was non-existent and it was the lack of medical supplies and attention which was defeating our men. The enemy was disease and mismanagement not the Russians.