Andrew Wareham - End to Illusion

“Oh, my word! How are the mighty fallen! Got to admit, Sturton, I never liked him! Far too much the gilded lily for my taste!”

“Born to the purple? He did know that to be true. Mind you, so am I these days. My two cousins fell last year – you met one of them, I believe – and I am now heir to Perceval, of all turn-ups!”

Miss Patterson joined the conversation.

“Oh, I heard about that! The son of the disgraced younger brother who has suddenly become the richest prospect in the field this season! My mother has warned me to keep an eye out for you, Mr Sturton, on the grounds, I quote, ‘he has money and a title’. I gather, Major Baker, that you have more money in your background but less birth, although the Cross makes up for much of that.”

“Are we supposed to be told such things, Primrose?”

“No, I expect not. I forget what I am supposed to say and what not, you know, Major. I do know that you should not call me by name at a ball!”

Simon grinned, able to see that the two did not really need his company.

“I suppose I must show myself on the floor. My Uncle informed me that I am here to be seen and to meet ‘eligible young females’. Thing is, strictly on the QT, old chap, that I have met the sister of my first lieutenant already and don’t really want to discover anybody else. Not High Society – her father is a baronet with lots of Indian money a generation or two down the line – but I much suspect she will do me.”

Miss Patterson put an admonitory finger to her lips.

“Ssh! Don’t admit to that Lieutenant! There is at least one earl’s daughter present and looking for a heroic and rich and titled match. You will spoil the hunt for her if you admit to being taken already!”

“Is that another thing you should not say, Miss Patterson?”

“Probably. I must try to remember the rules, one day.”

Simon moved away from the table laughing quietly. If Baker managed to land that young lady, which seemed not unlikely, he would find himself with a handful. She seemed a very attractive young woman and he wished him joy of his conquest. Thinking on it, Baker appeared to be a far more pleasant fellow than he had been on St Vincent. The Navy had handled him badly, it would seem.

He stood and smiled as he looked about him, surveying the field, unaware that he made a noticeable figure, taller than average and strongly built and fair haired in the fashionable Saxon image.

A young lady smiled hopefully, reminding him of his obligations.

“Would you care to dance, ma’am? My name is Sturton.”

She was Miss Faulds, or so he thought she said, forgetting name and face both over the evening. He danced half a dozen waltzes in a row and then accompanied his latest partner to the supper room, spotting Baker there in company with his Primrose and joining their table.

“You know Miss…”

“Atkinson, Lieutenant!”

“Sorry, so it is. So many new names and faces, you know…”

“Of course. Miss Patterson and I have been acquainted for many years. We all know Major Baker, of course.”

Baker smiled his kindest and said that Sturton was an old friend from Dartmouth days.

“Sailed with him for two years as well before it became obvious that the Navy was not for me.”

“It’s not everyone’s cup of tea, old chap! I like it, especially in wartime, but I think I will follow your example and send my papers in when the war is over. Too much excitement, rushing about in the boats, to want to go back to peacetime routine.”

Miss Atkinson agreed that it must be so. Better far to take up a proper occupation on land.

“The estates must need a firm hand after the war, there will be so much to do on them.”

“I believe our estates are being much curtailed, Miss Atkinson. My Uncle and I agree that the Land is no longer the force it was and we shall be better off without all except for a single place in the country.”

“But… the Land makes the Lord, you know! Where will we be without the great estates?”

“Better off, quite possibly, ma’am. I know that we shall be much reduced in acreage and far better off financially. No money in the Land, I am told.”

“But, one has money in order to possess land! It is the other way around, you know.”

Miss Atkinson appeared disillusioned with her partner – it seemed he did not have feet of clay. Miss Patterson giggled.

The Ball trickled to an end, the final enthusiasts leaving the floor in the middle of the night. Simon was not among them. He and his uncle left at one o’clock, both tired from unaccustomed dancing.

“Was that Miss Atkinson I saw you with at supper, Simon? Wealthy family, father is a general as well. Their estates are mostly in the West of the Midlands, close to the Welsh Marches. Massive acreage, which must cost him a pretty penny to keep up.”

“She was not pleased when I said that we were selling out of our lands. Apparently, the aristocracy has a duty to the Land. Sort of thing my grandfather believed, I must imagine, sir. Not in contact with this century.”

“Exactly. Cross her off the list, eh?”

“She never reached it, sir. Have you heard of a family called Parrett? Got a place outside Ipswich.”

“Baronet? Big in the City, or his father was, at least. I believe he leaves almost everything in the hands of managers. Got some good men as well. Why?”

Simon explained his first lieutenant and the sister.

“Good match, if that’s so, Simon. No complaints from me, that’s for sure. The girl would probably come with the income of fifty thousand made over to her. Possibly be in line to inherit more, the way this war is going! The deaths are horrendous, you know!”

“They are, sir. I suspect as well they are only just starting.”

“Bloody hell, Adams! You were not exaggerating! I have never seen a shitheap to match this! Called at Monrovia twenty odd years ago on a cruise – I thought that was rough but it’s nothing compared to Mudros. It stinks! Make our compliments to the SNO and get the hell out of the place. Yeoman!”

Captain Hamworthy dictated a brief signal to the admiral, informing him he was on anti-submarine patrol and intending to comb the passage to Rhodes next, unless the admiral had information of enemy activity elsewhere.

“Explains why we are here and shows willing, Adams. Course for Alex, if you please. I fancy an ice-cold beer and a little of relaxation. Mr Ephraim! What’s on the list for the yard? Something to keep us for a week but not as long as two, ideally.”

The first lieutenant shook his head.

“Ship’s in good condition, sir. No action and only four thousand miles since coming out of the yard, sir.”

“Not good enough, Number One! We need to give the men forty-eight hours for each watch, so that demands four days, and I need at least a week! If nothing needs fixing, break something quick!”

“We need a wireless, sir, to inform the admiral of the whereabouts of submarines when we come across them. That would take some days to install if it was even possible.”

“Doubt they would have spare sets in Alexandria, Number One. Worth a try. Mr Barclay? What do you need?”

“High-angle Vickers or a pompom or three inch, sir. To deal with the seaplanes in the Adriatic. Saw them twice, if you remember, sir. Suspect they are informing submarines of our whereabouts.”

They had seen nothing in the air but Christopher had mentioned their encounter on Connaught.

“Well said, Mr Barclay. Exactly what was needed. What is it, Yeoman?”

“Acknowledgement from the Admiral, sir. ‘No information of submarines. Carry out orders.’”

“Very good. Acknowledge receipt. Make sail, Mr Ephraim. Course, Mr Adams?”