Andrew Wareham: End to Illusion

Richard did not know whether to congratulate him on the estate or offer sympathy for the loss.

“Difficult to know what is best in time of war, sir.”

“Very. Not for you, of course. You will not wish to marry for another three or four years, despite the rank. You are what, twenty years old now?”

“Rising twenty-one, sir. My birthday is in three months. Still, as you say, I am hardly of an age to wish to take a wife, unless…”

“Exactly, Baker. No man knows what may be waiting around the corner. There may be a young lady who will be yours for your life. A quick drink first, we don’t wish to arrive before nine o’clock at earliest. Neither early nor too fashionably late – we are not to imply that we had an earlier engagement to fulfil before we attended the Duchess’ ball. We are too junior in the world to play that game!”

They took a quiet Scotch before leaving the hotel.

“Something I never thought to ask, Baker, but you do know most dances, do you not?”

“If they have invented anything in the last four years, I shall be at a loss, sir. Otherwise, no difficulties. Dartmouth included dancing classes for all cadets – the naval officer is to be at home in Society, by order.”

“Quite right, too! Sensible action by the Admiralty – a pleasant rarity!”

They entered the great house, part of a stream of couples and parties, having chosen the favoured time of arrival. The Dowager Duchess was stood in the entrance hall, next to her son, the current Duke. Richard made his bow as Colonel Braithwaite made the introduction.

“My major, Your Grace. Richard Baker.”

“You are most welcome, Major Baker. I am honoured by your presence, sir.”

The Duke added a few words, murmuring his pleasure in entertaining so distinguished a soldier.

Richard bowed again and the Colonel led him away.

The ballroom was vast, able to stand one hundred couples and with tables for at least as many again around the sides. There was an orchestra playing a waltz, the floor as yet no more than half-full.

“Perhaps a quarter of the men in uniform, Baker. Most of those will be staff or training or other Home Establishment. The civilians will all be in the most important of jobs or will have previously unsuspected health issues that render it impossible for them to be accepted as volunteers. It makes us stand out to an extent, which is not too bad a thing.”

Braithwaite looked about him.

“Let me introduce you to my cousin Archibald, Baker. He ain’t very bright but he is a viscount – the two cancel each other out and he is a politician. Minister for something insignificant, I believe.”

Lord Cleethorpe was pleased to greet his military cousin and delighted to be seen in the company of the famous Major Baker.

“Jolly good to meet you, old chap! I must make you known to my wife, and my daughter… Where are they?”

The pair were sat with two other females, rose with alacrity when they saw that cousin Braithwaite was in the company of a not unhandsome young man. The daughter was twenty years of age and unwed, indeed almost unpursued, was more than happy to talk to a soldier.

“Major Richard Baker, VC, my dear.”

Lady Cleethorpe made her curtsy, as did her overawed daughter.

The band struck up a new dance and Richard was forced to request the young lady to join him on the floor. First partner of one of the more eminent guests – Miss Cleethorpe accepted with real pleasure.

They conversed a little, as was mandatory, and she showed herself not especially bright and trod on his foot twice, flushing bright scarlet and apologising. Richard felt sorry for her and was glad when the dance ended and he could return her to her mother’s care. He made his bow and retired to Colonel Braithwaite’s side and to an unending series of introductions and a flow of dance partners, none of whom made the least impression on him. He noticed that Colonel Braithwaite was more than once in the company of a slightly older but unaccompanied young woman, possibly long known to him from the ease with which they conversed.

“Mrs Sanderson. Major Baker. You come from almost the same neck of the woods, I believe. Mrs Sanderson lives at Market Harborough.”

“My late husband was a Leicestershire man, Major Baker. I come from closer to Bedford.”

“I am from Kettering, ma’am. My father is an ironfounder there.”

She was pleased that he made no attempt to hide his background, though rapidly making it clear that she was in no way interested in him. It seemed possible to Richard that she had ambitions towards the Colonel; she was aware of his inheritance.

“Your brother Reginald’s name was in the lists, I see, Colonel Braithwaite.”

“Yes, poor chap! Unexpected – I had thought him safe behind the lines.”

“His widow will be most upset.”

“Quite possibly so, ma’am, though I do not know that they had lived in the same house these twenty years.”

“Longer than that, I believe, Colonel! She will not have been happy to return from the South of France with the outbreak of war and now will find her income sadly circumscribed.”

“She certainly will, Mrs Sanderson! I can ensure that!”

They exchanged grins and moved towards the floor, leaving Richard quietly entertained. He turned towards the buffet, his glass being empty, and stepped to one side to avoid a young lady walking behind him. He smiled an apology.

“Is that the Victoria Cross, sir?”

“Well, yes, it is, ma’am. I am Major Baker.”

He glanced about to locate a chaperone having seen her fingers were bare – no husband to escort her.

“My Mama will be exchanging scandal with her bosom bows, Major Baker. Far too busy to make an introduction, though she will no doubt be delighted to meet you. I am Primrose Patterson. Lord Elkthorn’s daughter. He is too busy at the War Office to come here tonight. I believe him to be some sort of junior Secretary of State – probably with a large title and a small job. Not the most distinguished of men, poor Papa, but possessed of vast sums of money left by his father, who was.”

Richard took a longer look at the young lady, decided that he liked her. She was a mousy brunette, not the most handsome girl in the ballroom, by some degree, but her bright blue eyes sparkled with wit and intelligence. Besides that, she was ordinarily attractive and dressed with what seemed to him to be some style. It sounded, he realised as if the family had enough money to buy style for her, but she was interesting.

“Should we dance, Miss Patterson?”

“Do you wish to? I had rather talk than gallop about the floor.”

“A drink then?”

“With pleasure, Major. Lemonade, I fear! No choice in that – a young lady must not be fast , you know!”

He suspected he did know and laughed with her. A few minutes and he found himself explaining that he had won his Cross through force of circumstance.

“I was left with the men of my company, such as survived, to bring home and far too many Germans trying to prevent me from doing so. There was no choice other than to fight!”

“I suspect you may be understating the case, Major. Better that than the boasting one hears from too many young gentlemen who have joined and are to defeat the Kaiser single-handed.”

“A good trick that! I shall not stand in their way.”

She laughed and agreed he should not.

“Most of them are cavalry, of course, Major Baker. As such, standing in their way might be unwise. The bulk of them will have bought the tallest chargers and be no more than partly able to control them at the gallop.”

It was Richard’s turn to laugh.

“They will not need to, Miss Patterson. There is no place for the cavalry in trench warfare. They will not so much as see a German, far less charge one.”