Andrew Wareham - End to Illusion

He had, of course, approving of Richard’s family’s financial status and detailing the money that would come with Primrose – a large amount, in his eyes.

“What I have in mind, Primrose, is to put all of your income in your name. Sort of a trust fund. That way, if I am killed – which can happen to a soldier – you will be independent and well off without having to rely further on your father or mine.”

She had not really considered the possibility of his death – that happened to other men, not to him, surely.

“Less chance of being killed as I rise in the ranks, of course. As a colonel I cannot be going out on raids, or only sometimes, and will not be spending all of my days in the trenches. I will still be exposed to some extent. I cannot sit tucked away in a safe dugout a mile distant from the line. There will always be a chance that I may be unlucky.”

The reality of being a soldier’s wife came home then. Always to worry, to wonder why no letter had arrived in the past days, to scan the newspapers for reports of action on his section of the trenches…

“It is silly to tell you to be careful, is it not?”

“Very! I am what I am for not being a cautious sort, Primrose. Was I careful, then I would still be a second lieutenant and would never have met you. My life would be far less than it is now. Less happy, less worthwhile. I carry this ribbon on my chest because I chose not to be careful of my life. A wise decision it transpires, for giving me access to Mayfair and to your existence.”

She was still surprised that he had selected her from the many to be his bride – she had long known she was no matrimonial catch, except to a poor man, which he was not.

“Why me, Richard? You have never said why, you know.”

He laughed and shook his head.

“I cannot say, Primrose. I do not know, not in so many words. I met you and liked you. I met you again and found I was looking forward to seeing you. I met you a third time and discovered that if I had not, the evening would have been wasted. Now, much to my delight, you are part of my life. I think that means I love you. I know it means that I cannot wish to live without you. But why, what particular element, one might say, of your character and being is so important to me? I do not know! You are clever and open and witty and sometimes wise. You are attractive to look at – more than that, you are exactly what a girl should be, to my mind. You are you. I am thankful and pleased that you have chosen to accept me. I much trust you will feel the same when you have met my family. Father cannot come to Town this week – there is something going on at the Works relating to a contract for the Army and that he must be present for, rightly. We have it in mind to arrange for me to come down from Devizes and for the families to meet of a weekend before we go out to France. Two weeks from Saturday, if that works for you.”

She was sure it could be made to work.

“What are we to do tonight, Richard? There is some sort of engagement, I know. I don’t remember what.”

“A Musical Evening for the troops, my dear. We are to attend and listen to Elgar for sure and probably Vaughan Williams and will tell all the dowagers how fine it is.”

She agreed, less than enthusiastically.

“We shall have to stand and sing, all of us together, I do not doubt. ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ will be inevitable!”

He feared she was right.

“Jolly patriotic, as is only right in these times of peril. Still, if it gets the idlers of Mayfair to dig into their pockets to purchase comforts for the troops, then it cannot be too great a hardship for us. I presume there will be much in the way of congratulations on the engagement?”

“They will have seen the announcement and will observe the ring – which I still consider to be little short of vulgar, Richard!”

They stared at her left hand and the rock on her ring finger.

“However much it may have been my grandmama’s and left by her directly to me in the hope that I would be able to wear it one day, it is still monstrous!”

“It is a wonderful stone, my love. It is perhaps of a size more fitted for the Crown Jewels than for a less royal lady. It cannot be missed, that is a certainty!”

She grinned.

“Poor little Primrose making herself known to the world?”

“Even so! Do you think you should change your name – Primrose becoming Primula to fit your new dignity?”

She laughed but decided the flower of the fields would do for her.

“I am no cultivated beauty, Richard!”

“You are in my eyes, my love.”

They dined with the Elkthorns and then proceeded, all four together, to Lady Aberdare’s charity function, to be attended by all of the rank and beauty of Society, and by the newspapers who would record their remarkable generosity and devotion to the troops.

The band of the Grenadier Guards provided the music, all British, which reduced the number of compositions available, and all notably patriotic, as was to be expected. The music lasted no more than two hours, including the interval, which was quite long enough to establish the cultural credentials of the audience. The guests mingled at a buffet for some hours afterwards.

Primrose enjoyed the evening far more than she had expected, her fiancé at her side and receiving the congratulations of her contemporaries, none of whom could quite comprehend her good fortune. How ‘little Primrose’ had scooped the prize of the Season was beyond the understanding of all – there were several competitors equally rich and much more handsome – but they were far too polite to say so.

“Primrose, my dear! I must congratulate you and wish you so very happy! And you, Colonel Baker, to have carried away your prize before us all!”

Richard wondered what that might mean, but it sounded very sincere. He allowed Primrose to reply for them.

“Why, thank you, Amanda! I am sure we shall both enjoy our lives together.”

They smiled so sweetly at each other that Richard wondered if they would actually descend to hair pulling, relaxed as Miss Atkinson retired into obscurity.

“I say, Primrose, do you dislike her that much?”

“Tall, blonde, athletic and beautiful! And always so jolly kind to little Primmers! The cow!”

He started to laugh, did his best to control himself – his beloved was in no joking mood. They turned to the next of the many coming within their orbit, smiling their best.

Richard left London for Devizes, a small country town made important by its location on the western edge of Salisbury Plain, the home of the Army. There were a dozen barracks and training grounds close to or actually in the town which was otherwise distinguished by a large brewery and the headquarters of the County police force and little else.

The 8 thBeds were in a camp a mile distant from the town centre, out on the edge of the downland, ideally placed for route marching and with a rifle range just yards from the barracks huts, all very convenient for a new battalion. Richard knew the buildings to be new; they would be cheap, barely waterproof and little else to be said for them.

Richard left the railway station, Paisley at his side, and looked about him. He had sent a telegram informing the adjutant which train he would be on and expected transport to be waiting.

“Colonel Baker, sir?”

A second lieutenant stood by a staff car, a wagon and two horses behind them for Paisley and the mass of baggage essential to a colonel.

Richard accepted the boy’s salute.

“Tolstoy, sir. Please to enter the staff car, sir.”

“Thank you. Is that an English name, Tolstoy?”

“The name is not but I am, sir. My father left Russia before I was born, sir. We are some sort of cousin to the Count, the author, sir. My father fell out with the Tsar, why I do not know, and we came to Britain, sir. We will be staying, as well – not welcome back in Russia.”