Authors: Barbara Taylor Bradford
* * *
The following morning, Charles went to the library to read the newspapers. As usual he became even more alarmed when he saw the dire stories, and blaring headlines predicting that war was imminent.
He had been in the library for only fifteen minutes when there was a knock on the door, and Daphne looked in. “Am I disturbing you, Papa?” she asked.
He shook his head, smiling at her. “No, and you look lovely. I missed you at breakfast.”
She walked across to the Chesterfield sofa where he was sitting, surrounded by the newspapers. “Well, now that I’m a married woman, I’m allowed to have breakfast in bed, you know. And it was a rather late night.”
“It was. But what a treat to have Adam Fairley for dinner. We’re such old friends, and we don’t get to see enough of each other. His wife is nice, isn’t she?”
“Olivia is charming, and beautiful. I liked her tremendously,” Daphne said, and sat down opposite her father. “I want to speak to you about something,” she went on. “Something that’s been troubling me.”
“You sound serious. What is it, darling?”
“It’s about you and Mother, Papa. Is there something wrong? What’s going on? I don’t understand.”
“Please close the door,” he said.
She did as he asked, and then returned to the chair, sat looking at him, waiting for his response to her question.
She couldn’t help thinking how handsome he looked today. July weather had been nice so far, and he had been outside a lot, checking on the walls going up. And he had acquired a light tan, which made his eyes look bluer, and his hair was blonder, also from the sun. He was forty-five, but he appeared younger, his face relatively unlined. He was also a good man, kind and caring not only of his family and the Swanns, but everyone who lived in the three villages. They were his people, and he felt responsible for them and their well-being. Unlike many titled aristocrats, he treated everyone the same, with graciousness and dignity, and he was not at all snobbish. He was her moral compass and she respected him. She had always striven to be like him.
Daphne focused her deep blue eyes on her father intently, and said, “Why are you so silent? Aren’t you going to tell me why the two of you are living apart, well, more or less?”
Charles sighed, and stretched out his long legs, and after a moment he said in a low voice, “I was wondering where to begin, actually.”
“Just blurt it out, Papa, that’s what I do when I’ve something difficult to say,” Daphne said solemnly.
Charles laughed for the first time in weeks. “That’s what I’ll do, too. Your mother left me the morning after Dulcie was almost abducted in the bluebell woods. If you recall, she went to London. In fact, the night before, she told me she didn’t want to … live with me anymore. She even told me I could have a divorce, if I wished.”
“I can’t believe this!” Daphne cried, her eyes wide with shock. “Why on earth did she pick that night, when we’d all been so upset and strained at dinner, because of Dulcie’s narrow escape? I don’t understand. Did
you
? Do you?”
“To be honest, no. Not really. Look, I’ve given you this in a nutshell, and it’s between us. Nobody else has mentioned your mother, none of your sisters or brothers. At least, they haven’t asked why she’s away. What I’m telling you is confidential, Daphne. I know you realize that.”
“I do, and I would never discuss it with anyone, not even Hugo, if you don’t want me to, Papa.”
“I think, at the moment, I would prefer to keep this between us, Daphne. Not that Hugo would talk, but, well, it’s nicer to keep quiet for your mother’s sake, don’t you think?”
Daphne nodded, then exclaimed, “Why would she leave
you
? You’re the most wonderful man in the world, and you’ve always looked after her, been so caring and loving. You’ve been a good husband, and you’re a good father—” Daphne stopped abruptly. Tears came into her eyes. “I can’t understand it.” She began to cry.
Charles got up and went over to his daughter, pulled her to her feet and put his arms around her, held her close. “I’m all right, you know. It was a bit of a shock, but I’ve accepted it. Come along, darling, stop weeping and sit down here with me on the sofa.”
She did as he asked. He took hold of her hand, and said in a steady voice, “We’ve had some good years together, your mother and I, but sometimes people change. And I think
she
has. At least in the way she feels about me. Putting it simply, she just doesn’t want to be with me, not in any way. I didn’t put up a fight, or try to dissuade her from leaving me, because she did change after Dulcie was born, and I’ve known that for a long time.”
“In what way?”
“Her feelings for me changed, she … cooled, I think is the best way of putting it,” Charles said very quietly.
“Maybe her exhaustion and dealing with Aunt Anne affected her in some way,” Daphne ventured. What a fool her mother was to leave in the way she had.
“I considered that, Daphne, but the change in Felicity happened long before your aunt became ill with cancer.”
Daphne looked at him intently. “What you’re saying is that this … separation might have been a long time coming.”
“Yes. A year after Dulcie was born there was a difference, but I ignored it, turned a blind eye. Which I now believe was foolish on my part.”
“Do you think, I mean, could there be … another man?”
Charles laughed again. “I don’t think so, but I don’t know, to be honest.”
Daphne took a deep breath, and plunged in. “Well, I know one thing, you don’t have another woman, Papa. Do you?”
He shook his head, and said in a serious tone, “You’re correct there, Daphne. I’ve never been unfaithful to your mother, never strayed. And you mustn’t worry about this situation, or be concerned about me. I’m feeling fine now. I must admit, I was rather shaken up at first. But I’m calm, and it’s best for us to live apart than be at loggerheads.”
“I’m here to help you any way I can, Papa.” Daphne hesitated for a moment before asking, “What are you going to do?”
“Nothing. I’m going to let sleeping dogs lie, as they say. I’ve no reason to get a divorce. Unless your mother wants one, that is. I’ve a lot to do on the estate, and if there is a war I will have my hands full. War changes everything.”
Fifty
T
wo weeks later Charles remembered those words he had uttered to his daughter, and he repeated them to Charlotte Swann on August 5, 1914.
“War changes everything,” he said. “And it changes everyone as well. The world becomes a different place.”
“We’ve expected it for such a long time, and now it’s finally here,” she remarked in disbelief, shaking her head. “I never really thought it would happen, though. I was positive it would go away.”
The two of them were in the library at Cavendon. A variety of newspapers were piled up on the floor near the Chesterfield; the night before, on Tuesday, August 4, Britain had declared war on Germany, because that country had invaded neutral Belgium.
“The German attack was unprovoked,” Charles explained to her. “And it tipped the balance in our government. We are part of the Triple Entente with France and Russia, and this agreement was made in order to provide mutual defense of each other, if a war with Germany came. Also, Britain and the other great powers pledged to guarantee Belgian neutrality. So that’s the reason we’re now in it.”
“Do you think it will be a long war?” Charlotte asked.
“I’m afraid so. Adam Fairley confirmed that to me last night, when he telephoned to tell me about the declaration of war. It was late when we spoke, past midnight, and the paper had just gone to press. He always keeps me posted these days.”
“So you knew before you read it in
The Gazette
this morning?”
“I did, yes. In a funny way, it came as a relief to finally know. At least we are now able to look at our options, and do our job, do our best. Much better than being in limbo, in the dark, worrying. Incidentally, our government really did have to take us in, I see that very clearly now. We cannot afford to let the Germans capture Belgium’s Channel ports. We will be at a strategic disadvantage if that happens.” Charles sat back. “I trust Churchill and Asquith,” he added, not wanting to appear too gloomy.
“Are we in for a long siege, Charles?” Charlotte sat twisting her hands in her lap, aware that hordes of young men would be leaving to fight. It was always the young who rushed to the front because of their youth, their strength, their fortitude, and their enthusiasm. Unfortunately, war excited them.
Charles had been thoughtful for a few moments, and finally he answered her question. “This is going to be a big war, Charlotte. Other countries are already in it, and yes, I see it lasting a year at least.”
“So long?” She sounded surprised.
He nodded. “Germany has amassed an enormous amount of armaments. They will be able to fight on for months and months.” He shook his head, and rose. “Let’s go and tour the West and North Wings, shall we? That’s why you came up this morning. Those wings are the ones we will have to transform. We must be ready to start operating when the government asks us to take in wounded troops. And they will, there’s no doubt in my mind of that.”
* * *
By Thursday, the sixth of August, Austria-Hungary had declared war on Russia. On the twelfth of the month France and Britain went to war with Austria-Hungary, since they were allied to Russia in the Triple Entente. As Charles had predicted, it was going to be a big war, a great war, and some people would say that it was the war to end all wars. But was it? Charles had his doubts about that.
Across the country, in cities, towns, and little villages, government posters went up, were pasted to lampposts, trees, walls, and doors. Anywhere there was enough space for one, in fact.
YOUR COUNTRY NEEDS YOU
they read, and men responded, just as they had responded to Lord Kitchener’s request for volunteers. One hundred thousand men joined the army after his first appeal.
Kitchener had been made Secretary of State for War, and there was much relief everywhere that he had taken on this arduous job. He was not only a great war hero, but a legend.
The posters appeared in the three Ingham villages in the Dales, and recruitment offices opened all over Yorkshire and the rest of the country.
Wherever Charles went, his people asked him questions and wanted to know about the war, what it would mean to them, and what they should do to help.
“I think I had better call a meeting at the church hall in Little Skell,” he said to Hugo and Daphne one afternoon in the middle of August.
“For this coming Friday. I must also include the villagers from Mowbray and High Clough. And all of the outside workers on the estate. I do think it’s important that I speak to them, answer their questions. The women must come, if they wish. They have as much right as their husbands to hear everything I have to say.”
Daphne and Hugo agreed with him, and Daphne said, “Don’t you think you should speak with the indoor staff at Cavendon also, Papa? Perhaps just before dinner tonight.”
“Good thought, Daphne,” her father answered. After a moment’s reflection, he went on, “I believe it is vital we go to meet our villagers as the Ingham family. So we must take the children, including Alicia, in the care of Nurse Willis, and Dulcie with Nanny Clarice. By the way, she’s turned out well, hasn’t she, Daphne?”
Daphne nodded, and then broke into laughter. “She never takes her eyes off Dulcie. Fortunately, Dulcie fell in love with her at once. They get on like a house on fire because Nanny Clarice treats her as an adult. She asks her opinion about her clothes, and what she would like to wear, and many other things as well. In that quarter, we’re doing well, Papa.”
Hugo asked, “Are you going to ask Felicity to come to Yorkshire to join us for this event?”
“No. I don’t think she would be interested, Hugo,” Charles answered. “I understand from Diedre the countess has been feeling exhausted lately. As for Diedre, I think she prefers her life in Mayfair. She certainly wouldn’t want to be
here,
I can assure you of that.”
When Lady Gwendolyn heard about the impending meeting at Little Skell church hall, she immediately told Charles she would love to come with them, would be offended if she was left out, in fact.
“After all, I am the
oldest
Ingham,” she reminded her nephew. Charles agreed it was most important that she was there, being the great Ingham matriarch that she was.
“Well, Papa, we’re quite a group as a family,” Daphne said to him as they stood together on the terrace on Friday afternoon, as everyone assembled.
Alongside them were Hugo, and Guy, who had not yet returned to Oxford. Lady Gwendolyn was seated in a chair and Nanny Clarice was holding Dulcie’s hand. DeLacy, and Miles, still at home from Eton, were standing on the garden path below the terrace with Nurse Willis and Alicia. The baby was sitting up in her Silver Cross perambulator and looked beautiful.
“
She
is going to be the hit of the show,” Miles said, grinning at Nurse Willis.
* * *
The Ingham family walked through the park, heading for the village of Little Skell. Nurse Willis, pushing Alicia in the pram, was the leader, along with Nanny Clarice and Dulcie, walking hand in hand. This amused Charles. As usual, Dulcie had to be the first, no matter what.
He followed behind them with Hugo, Lady Gwendolyn, Daphne, DeLacy, Guy, and Miles. As he glanced at his family, he felt a little surge of pride. They were, each one of them, individuals in their own right, confident and secure and well behaved. Not to mention good-looking.
When they reached the church hall, a bevy of Swanns was there to greet them: Charlotte, Alice, Cecily, and Harry, with their father, Walter, who had been given permission to be present by Charles.
Percy was there with his wife, Edna, and their thirteen-year-old son, Joe, who was a junior woodsman, and Percy’s nephew, Bill, head landscape gardener at Cavendon at twenty-eight.
There was a lot of cheering and clapping as the Inghams trooped into the church hall. Once things had calmed down, Charles went and stood in front of his villagers and spoke to them in his usual well-modulated voice, his charisma holding them spellbound.