“I suppose you have to go home?”
“I must. My father will have so much to tell me about the estate.”
“You love the land, don’t you, Robert?”
“I’ve been brought up to know that it will be mine one day…in the far distant future, I hope. I feel the same about it as my father does. As you know, he and I have always been the best of friends.”
“My mother often says you are just like him.”
“That’s the general opinion. My mother and sister are quite different.”
“It’s odd to have such contrasts in one family. People say I am like my mother, but my mother says I have a lot of my father in me. I don’t know who Charles takes after. I suppose he’ll go into politics. At the moment, he is the only person I know who is praying for the war to go on until he is old enough to join the army.”
“A good patriotic spirit!”
“I think he is more concerned with the glory of Charles Greenham! He sees himself dashing into battle and winning the war in a week.”
“He’ll grow up.”
“I’m glad you are going on this course, Robert…because it will delay your going…out there.”
“I’ll be all right, Lucinda. The old predictable. You’ll see me just obeying orders from my superior commanders. I’m the sort who muddles through.”
“Don’t change, will you?”
“I couldn’t if I tried. May I make the same request of you?”
“Oh, look!” I said. “There’s the old Priory.”
“What a difference! What have they done to it?”
“There are new people there.”
“Have they bought it?”
“I think they must have. The old owners were so careless about it. Now there is a caretaker with a fierce dog to keep people out. Mind you, people did wander in and out. There were some broken windows and people used to get into the house. I suppose there’s a good reason for a caretaker.”
“They’ve cleaned it up, haven’t they?”
“Yes. I expect the new people will be moving in soon.”
“Let’s hope they’ll be agreeable and add something to the social life of Marchlands.”
“My parents are hoping they are good Liberals.”
“Well, the Liberals haven’t got the monopoly now, have they? With this coalition, a Conservative has as good a chance of getting into the Cabinet.”
“When my father comes home we hear something of what is going on. They are still harrying poor old Asquith.”
“He won’t last much longer.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“The only good thing would be to finish off this war and get back to peace.”
That evening Robert left us to join his family.
“I shall see you in two days’ time,” he said. “Make sure that you keep the day free.”
“I might even get Miss Carruthers to let me off lessons.”
“I always forget you are a schoolgirl, Lucinda. But it is not for much longer, is it?”
When he had gone I fell to thinking of Marcus Merrivale. He, with Robert, was looking forward to the time when I grew up.
I felt honored, and at the same time uneasy. When I was with Robert I knew exactly that it was where I wanted to be; but then, the exhilarating company of Marcus Merrivale was quite intoxicating.
It was Christmas again and then the New Year, 1916. Nothing was going well. It was acknowledged that the plan to capture the Dardanelles had been a failure.
There were some who agreed with Churchill that it was a brilliant idea but that it had been badly carried out.
The Secretary of State for War, Lord Kitchener, had gone out to the Dardanelles to advise withdrawal. There was no hope of victory there and it was a waste of men and ammunition to carry on. And now, in January of that year, the troops from Gallipoli began to arrive back in England.
It was at the end of that month when Uncle Gerald came to see us. He looked older than he had when he left. He told us that the campaign should never have been undertaken.
He played it out at lunch at the table.
“Doomed to fail from the start,” he said. “A lack of surprise, for one thing. They sent us part-time soldiers. We lacked experienced men, and believe me, that’s what was needed for an enterprise like this. There weren’t enough supplies. There was an acute shortage of shells. Asquith must go!”
“Churchill has already gone,” my father reminded him.
“Churchill’s idea was all right. That could have worked. It was the way it was tackled which destroyed us. You see, here we are….” My mother looked apprehensively at his wine glass. “And here…” He swung the cruet into line. “…the Turk.”
For a moment we watched him moving plates and dishes around the table. It did not look in the least like a battlefield to me and I was longing to ask for news of Marcus Merrivale.
“It hasn’t done much for our prestige. This is the beginning of the end for Asquith. Consider our losses, Joel…nearly a quarter of a million men…and many from the Empire. It’s a disaster, Joel. A disaster. I daresay you’ve been hearing about it all in the House.”
“They’ve talked of little else since Kitchener’s verdict.”
“Heads will fall, Joel. Heads will fall.”
“I daresay you are glad to be back, Gerald,” said my mother. “What about Major Merrivale? Is he back with you?”
“They are all coming back. Merrivale was wounded.”
“Wounded!” said my mother. “Badly?”
“Hm. He went straight to the hospital.”
“He could have come here,” said my mother.
“My dear Lucie, I think he was really rather badly hurt.”
My mother bristled and Uncle Gerald relented a little.
“In cases like this,” he said, “they’re taken off to one of the London hospitals.”
“How badly hurt is he?” I asked.
“Oh, he’ll come through. Trust Merrivale for that. But it was a bit more than a sniper’s bullet.”
“Which hospital is he in?” asked my mother.
“I’m not sure.”
“What happened to him?”
“I don’t know the details…just that he was a stretcher case.”
I felt sick. I could imagine…a stretcher case. How was he? I wanted to see him.
My mother said, “We have a special interest in him, you know, Gerald, after, he brought Lucinda, Edward and the others out of Belgium.”
“Oh, I know. A great fellow. He’s not at death’s door. Just needs a bit of patching up.”
“You must find out more details and let us know. I think that if he is in a London hospital, the least Lucinda and I can do is visit him, Joel. I don’t forget what he did for Lucinda. Heaven knows what might have happened if he hadn’t looked after her, and we shall always be grateful to you, Gerald, for sending him to look after her.”
“Seemed the best thing to do. He’s a very resourceful fellow. Well, you’d expect that. There’s only one Merrivale.”
“Well, do let us know, Gerald. We’d love to go and see him, wouldn’t we, Lucinda?”
“Yes,” I answered. “We would.”
In his precise way, Uncle Gerald sent the information to us in a few days.
My mother said it was not easy to leave the hospital but under the circumstances she thought it necessary.
Andrée said she would like to come with us. Not that she would accompany us to the hospital, for she was sure three people would be too many, but she wanted to go to London to get some things for Edward.
“Do you remember that musical box he had? It played the Brahms lullaby when it opened. I know he misses it. He was opening a box yesterday and clearly listening. He looked so disappointed because there was no tune.”
“Fancy his remembering all that time,” said my mother. “But it’s a haunting melody and I suppose even a child would be aware of that.”
“It is that and a few other things I should like to get,” said Andrée.
“It seems a good idea,” replied my mother.
So we went.
Marcus was in a ward with several other officers. He was lying on his back and not quite his usual exuberant self; but he grinned at us.