Jonnie looked splendid in uniform. We were all very proud of him, but, of course, with each passing day, his departure grew nearer.
Then a strange thing happened.
Lord John Milward, of whom I had never heard before, died. There was a column in the paper about him. He had suffered an attack of the dreaded typhoid fever which had in a very short time proved fatal.
I had not thought that this could affect us at all. That was because at that time I was ignorant of the family history. Lord John Milward had left quite a large sum of money to Jonnie.
Jonnie was astonished and then suddenly he seemed to accept it.
It was some time later when I learned the truth.
Lord John Milward was, in fact, Jonnie’s father and not Matthew Hume, as I had always been led to suppose—and so had Jonnie himself.
Apparently when she was very young, Helena had been engaged to John Milward; there had been a scandal involving Uncle Peter and his nightclubs and the Milward family had insisted that the engagement be broken off.
My grandmother and grandfather Jake Cadorson, who had been visiting Australia to look after some property which Jake had acquired after his sentence had expired, took Helena with them. My mother was there too. Helena was at this time pregnant and my grandparents helped her over a difficult time. Jonnie was born in Australia. Matthew Hume had been on the ship taking them out; he was going to get material for his book on prisons—transportation being an important part of it—and there he met Helena and married her; and Jonnie had always thought that he was Matthew’s son.
John Milward however did not forget his son and thus it was that Jonnie was on the point of becoming a rich man.
He said his new affluence would be of great use in his work and everyone was very pleased for him. I did love Jonnie; he had been a hero of my childhood. I was sorry that I had for a time allowed Ben Lansdon to usurp his place in my heart. Jonnie was gentle and reliable; Ben was powerful and exciting. Ben had gone away and left me with our secret. I wondered how Jonnie would have behaved. Jonnie would never have been in such a situation. He would never have thought of hiding the body in the pool.
But Shakespeare said that comparisons were odious; and how right he was.
Then came another bombshell.
Grace came to me one day and said she must talk to me.
She said: “I wish your mother were here. I am sure she would understand. But I want you to explain to her.”
I was mystified.
“I’ve made a decision,” she said. “If they will have me I am going to Scutari.”
“To Scutari!” I cried. “But how?”
“With Miss Nightingale’s nurses. I have been along to see about it today. They will let me know if I am accepted. I feel sure I shall be. They told me it was almost a certainty. They do not get many educated young women and these are the sort that are wanted.”
“But you are not a nurse.”
“Nor are most of the others. In fact there are no real nurses anywhere. The hospitals are full of incompetent people who take to nursing because they cannot get work elsewhere. I’ve been talking to people. I want to go, Angelet. Please explain to your mother. It seems so ungrateful to leave like this, but I always felt she took me in out of charity and created work for me so that I should not feel I was imposing.”
“Oh nonsense, Grace. My mother is fond of you.”
“I feel that and it makes me unhappy. I am very fond of her … and you and everyone at Cador.”
“I wish I could come.”
“Your mother will be glad you are too young. I imagine it will not be the most comfortable way of living … but I want to do it. Seeing Jonnie in his uniform … Angelet, please do not say anything to anyone until I am sure of being accepted.”
I promised I would not; but in a few days she heard that her application was successful.
Everyone was astounded, but they applauded her enterprise and bravery. Jonnie was overcome with admiration for her and again I felt that twinge of jealousy.
“I would have gone if I had been old enough,” I said.
Jonnie gave me that loving smile of his and said: “I know you would.”
Grace received her uniform—not the most glamorous of costumes. There was a gray tweed dress and jacket of worsted of the same color, with a white cap and a woolen cape.
“You just have to take the nearest that fits,” explained Grace. “They are certainly unbecoming.”
“They are to impress on you that you are meant to be useful rather than ornamental. But they would look better if they fitted.”
Grace was easily able to alter hers to make it a better fit; but it still remained a most unattractive outfit.
Jonnie had gone. That was a sad day. Aunt Amaryllis insisted that Helena and Matthew come to the house in the square for dinner.
We drank to the success of the war, the conclusion of hostilities and Jonnie’s speedy return.
In October Grace set out for London Bridge where she was to join the band of nurses.
I felt deflated after she had gone. I wondered when I should see her and Jonnie again.
My parents came to London when they heard that Grace had gone.
“She’s a good brave girl,” said my mother. “She always wanted to make herself useful. I was so glad that we were able to help her. Poor girl, she was quite desperate when she walked into the garden that day. She was always so grateful, and we had to be grateful to her, too. We shall miss her. I hope this wretched war will soon be over and she will be back with us.”
Soon after that we returned to Cornwall.
And the war dragged on.
Life seemed more than usually uneventful in Cornwall after that visit to London.
We were deeply concerned about the war. There was no good news. The winter was setting in and that could be a greater foe than the Russian armies. We had news of the disastrous charge of the six hundred Light Cavalry at Balaclava; few men returned from that. There was the battle of Inkerman in which we lost more than two thousand men, and even though they told us that the Russians lost twelve thousand, that was little consolation to sorrowing relatives.
Aunt Amaryllis wrote constantly. She said that Helena was taking Jonnie’s departure sadly. She was like a wraith; she thought of little but the danger Jonnie was in.
“I wish,” wrote Aunt Amaryllis, “that that man Russell would stop writing such terrible things and sending them home. It makes us fret so. Poor Helena is beside herself with grief, and I think all the time of our dear Jonnie out there in that terrible place … and that nice Grace, too. Although, of course, she is not in the battle. I do wish it would all be over. It is so far away. What has it to do with us? But that’s wrong of me. Peter says the war is right and we have to preserve our influence all over the world. It is so necessary for everyone …”
“Poor Aunt Amaryllis,” said my mother. “Usually she can let ill fortune sail over her … but this is a little too close … with Jonnie at the front.”
The siege of Sebastopol continued. Once that fell into allied hands, it was said that the war would be all but over, but the Russians were a stubborn people; they would not give in; and our men on the outskirts of Sebastopol suffered more through the terrible winter than those who were within the city … many dying of the cold, so said Russell. Miss Nightingale and her nurses were doing a wonderful job but what could the most efficient nursing do without supplies? And conditions were still terrible.
It seemed to go on and on. The winter was over; spring came. Each day we waited for news, but all through that year there was nothing that was good.