Cavendon Hall (40 page)

“I’ve come here with my family to speak to you about the war. Unfortunately, the countess is in London and was unable to join us today, but she sends her best wishes, as does our daughter Lady Diedre, who is also away.

“I believe all of us here today know what we must do, and that is to support our country in its hour of greatest need. That is what we of the three Ingham villages are going to do most wholeheartedly, as we have done in other times of strife and trouble in our land.

“I know Lord Kitchener has raised an army of one hundred thousand men, who will be shipping out soon to fight in the fields of Flanders. The army is still requesting men from the ages of eighteen to thirty to volunteer. Single men at the moment. And those who feel they must go to the front must do so.

“I am not going to tell anyone what they can or cannot do, because this is a free country. We make our own choices as Englishmen. What I do ask is that married men consider their options. It might be wise to wait until married men are called to duty, because of their family responsibilities.

“I must explain something to you. I am converting two wings of Cavendon Hall into hospital wards. We have been alerted that the government might need beds for our wounded troops coming back from the front. I would like to ask any of you who have nursing or medical skills to volunteer now, to help with the wounded later. Miss Charlotte is starting a list today to hold in reserve.

“There might be rationing of food, since we won’t be able to import. That is why I am relying on our tenant farmers to keep tilling the land.

“I will end by saying that we are in this great fight together. We will stand together shoulder to shoulder, to bring victory to our country. And we shall prevail. Now Miss Mayhew will play the national anthem, and then refreshments will be served.”

There was clapping and cheering and then Miss Viola Mayhew, the church organist, began to thump the piano in one corner of the hall, and the voices of the villagers rang to the rafters as they began to sing:

“God save our gracious king, long live our noble king, God save the king. Send him victorious, happy and glorious, long may he reign over us, God save the king.”

When the national anthem finally finished, many of the men came to speak with their earl, asking crucial questions about the war, earnestly seeking his advice.

As usual, Charles Ingham, the Sixth Earl of Mowbray, listened attentively, and answered them all with graciousness, respect, and kindness, which was his way.

And the women of the three villages flocked around the women of Cavendon Hall, and especially the children, and as Miles had predicted, baby Alicia, in her Silver Cross pram, was indeed the star of the show.

*   *   *

By August 20 the first four divisions of the British Expeditionary Force had crossed the English Channel, and by early September the fifth and sixth divisions had followed.

Not a ship was sunk, not a life was lost. It was called a triumph for Winston Churchill, brilliant leader and militant trustee of the British Royal Navy.

Great Britain mobilized for war with ferocity and enormous speed. Every citizen was affected in some way or other as the grim days sped on, and on, and on. Endless days which seemed without hope.

The guns which had started to roar in August went on roaring through the following months and into the new year. Suddenly it was 1915 and success was nowhere in sight.

Hundreds of thousands of young men had died on the blood-soaked fields of Belgium and France. And as the dead piled up, the wounded were being shipped home to Britain, the country they loved and had fought for so bravely.

Part Four

RIVER OF BLOOD

May 1916–November 1918

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

For he today who sheds his blood with me

Shall be my brother.

—
William Shakespeare

If I should die, think only this of me:

That there’s some corner of a foreign field

That is for ever England. There shall be

In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;

A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,

Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,

A body of England’s, breathing English air,

Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,

A pulse in the eternal mind, no less

Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;

Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;

And laugher, learnt of friends; and gentleness,

In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

—
Rupert Brooke

Fifty-one

D
aphne sat at her desk in the conservatory, making the work sheet for the coming week. She glanced at her daily engagement book: Today was Sunday, May 28, 1916.

Nineteen sixteen
, she said under her breath, wondering what had happened to time. It had passed so quickly, she was momentarily startled.

Her eye caught the photograph of Guy and Miles in the silver frame, the two of them looking so grown-up and handsome. Hugo had taken it last summer on the terrace. Miles was still at Eton, but Guy was at the front, fighting in France with the Seaforth Highlanders, a regiment favored by many Yorkshire men.

She sat back in her chair and closed her eyes, thinking of her brother, and saying a silent prayer for his safety. She did this every morning and every night, as she knew her father did. He had not wanted Guy to join up, but her eldest brother had explained to their father why he must go.

Like all of the Inghams, he was patriotic, loved his country, and was proud of his heritage. Their father had finally given in.

But Daphne realized her father had not had any alternative. Guy was of age and could do as he wished. They all worried about Guy. The news from the front line was horrific, seemed to grow worse every day. Thousands upon thousands of young men had been slaughtered. And as the dead piled up on foreign fields, the wounded were brought home to be treated and healed.

The two wings at Cavendon were now filled. Once the war had started in 1914, her father had immediately converted the North and West Wings.

All of the antiques, paintings, and precious objects had been taken up to the attics to be stored, and extra beds were moved in. Her father had, in the end, had to buy additional beds so that the largest possible number of wounded soldiers could be accommodated.

The entire staff at Cavendon had pitched in, in order to turn those beautiful eighteenth-century rooms into hospital wards.

Once the wounded had started to arrive, the women from the villages had come to help, as had all of the Swann women, and she herself. DeLacy and Cecily also did their bit in different ways.

It was a joint effort, and it was working well. Dr. Shawcross supervised everything, and came to Cavendon every day. Her father had hired several matrons to run the wards, as well as professional nursing staff, and doctors. He had also purchased all of the equipment needed to make the wings as efficient as possible.

Her father was a wonder. He was managing the estate as best he could; this was a difficult task, since so many men had left the three villages to go and fight the enemy. But their wives had taken over, many with great skill, and the tenant farms continued to run.

Teenage boys, too young to go to war, helped out, and so did teenage girls and young women. Daphne was constantly amazed how everyone pulled together to properly ensure that things continued as normally as possible.

Eventually Daphne finished her list, and read through it one more time. Today she was off, and would be able to have lunch with her father and Hugo. It would be just the three of them because DeLacy was on duty in the other wings. As was Cecily.

She smiled to herself as she thought of the two of them. They were fifteen now, and both lovely, and very determined to lend a hand in the war effort. They rolled bandages, took hot and cold drinks to the patients, handed out magazines and newspapers to those who wanted them, straightened bedsheets and plumped up pillows. And ran errands.

Alice would be running the North Wing kitchen this afternoon. It had been enlarged, was used for the West Wing as well. Mrs. Thwaites would be helping Alice, and so would Peggy Swift, who had been kept on after her marriage because she was needed. She still used her maiden name, so there was no confusion with two Lanes in service. Peggy had managed to keep Gordon by her side.

Malcolm Smith, the other footman, had gone long ago, glad to be out of domestic service and in the armed service. Hanson was not eligible to fight, nor was Percy Swann, who discovered he had a weak chest when he tried to enlist.

Walter Swann had also remained at Cavendon, because married men had not yet been called up, and he had promised Alice he wouldn’t volunteer.

Daphne thanked God that Hugo had stayed with her, even though she knew he was itching to go and fight. She was happy he was here. Turning pages in her engagement book, Daphne saw her notations about her aunts, Lavinia and Vanessa.

Her father’s sisters had turned out to be true Inghams, ready to help however they could. Vanessa would be returning from London on Tuesday of the coming week. She would stay for the whole of June, as would her older sister, Lavinia, both working in the wards.

Lavinia had proved herself to be a gifted nurse, caring, compassionate, efficient, and skilled, much to Daphne’s surprise. Her aunt was tireless, and her disposition was so warm and loving the soldiers adored her. Lavinia always managed to bring a smile to their faces. Likewise Vanessa also helped to cheer them up, and made them laugh when she was on the wards. There wasn’t anything the two women wouldn’t do for their patients.

Daphne was proud of her family, the Swanns, and the villagers, the way they had responded to war, and the adversity in the country. Although she had to exclude Diedre and Felicity.

Her mother had not come back to Cavendon very often since she had left in May of 1914. And Diedre was not around anymore. She had a job at the War Office. Felicity had remained in London, was hardly ever in contact, much to Daphne’s surprise. But her mother hated the idea of Cavendon as a hospital, was squeamish about working on the wards.

To her astonishment, Daphne had discovered that her brothers and sisters didn’t seem to care that their mother was absent. Before he had left for France, Guy had gone to say good-bye to her at the new London house she had bought, but that was only out of politeness. He had, after all, been brought up to be a gentleman.

Miles confessed to Daphne that he found their mother irritating, and thought she was flighty. This was a word Daphne had never thought would be used to describe their mother. DeLacy, deep down, was angry about Felicity’s departure, and called it “the worst defection I’ve ever heard of.”

But Daphne knew that DeLacy was enveloped in the warm embrace of the Swann women, as she was herself. Dulcie, now eight, was as independent as always, but she loved Nanny Clarice, who had taught her manners, amongst other things. Since Felicity had been absent so much when Anne was ill, Dulcie didn’t miss her mother at all.

Nor does Papa, Daphne thought, shifting her focus to Charles. She knew how busy he was. He had so much to do with Jim Waters, the estate manager, and the outside workers, plus he visited the hospital wings as much as he could. Work, and more work, she thought, pursing her lips. All work and no play make Jack a dull boy, she muttered under her breath. She also knew her father was lonely, and she worried about him.

After writing all of the names down, their days of work, and their duties next week, Daphne closed her book, and got up. She would now join her father and Hugo for lunch. And this afternoon, when she and Hugo were alone, she would tell him a secret.

*   *   *

Fifteen minutes later, when Daphne walked into the dining room, she knew at once that something was wrong. Hugo and her father were standing and talking as they waited for her. Their faces were grim.

“What’s happened? What is it?” she cried, looking from one to the other, fearing the worst, that there was bad news about Guy.

“The government’s just passed a new law. Every man, whether single or married, and who is well and able, will be called up,” Charles said. “It went through the House of Commons last night. It’s the new Military Service Act and it has received royal assent.”

Daphne looked from her father to Hugo, her eyes filling with tears, understanding exactly what it meant.

Hugo went over to her, and put his arm around her. He said quietly, “Serving in the armed forces has now become compulsory. I will have to go, Daphne. I really will.”

Tears spilled, ran down her cheeks, and she clung to him, but after a moment she pulled herself together. He gave her a handkerchief and she wiped her eyes. She said, “I understand. I know every man must do his duty.” Swallowing, she added, “And Ingham women don’t weep. They stand up to be counted. And get on with it, keep going.”

“That’s the spirit!” her father said admiringly. “Let’s sit down, and try to eat lunch … since Cook has made such an effort.”

“Yes, we must eat. At least I must,” she said, looking at her father, then turning to Hugo. “I have a secret,” she said to her husband. “I was going to tell you later, and you too, Papa. After lunch. But I might as well tell you both now.” Taking a deep breath, pushing a big smile onto her face, she said, “I’m pregnant, Hugo. I’m going to give you another baby.”

It was obvious that Hugo was overjoyed. He jumped up, pulled her to her feet, hugged her, kissed her cheek, and hugged her again. “How wonderful, my darling. How very wonderful indeed. And this time I think it will be a boy.”

Her father was also smiling, and once Hugo released her from his grip, Charles went to her, held her close. “Congratulations, Daphne. I’m so happy for you and Hugo, and glad to know I will soon have another grandchild.”

Fifty-two

“
L
ord Mowbray!” Alice exclaimed, taken by surprise and quickly closing the oven door as Charles Ingham walked into the kitchen in the North Wing. “Do you need me? How can I help you, m’lord?”