The Rose of Sebastopol (31 page)

My chief worry was the coming meeting with Max Stukeley. Whatever would he say when he heard that Mariella Lingwood and Nora McCormack had come calling at Balaklava? Would he bounce onto the ship like he had into the drawing room at Fosse House and give my hand an impudent kiss? Would he be full of blame or praise, and what news would he bring of Rosa?

Then I began to wonder how much time Rosa had spent in Balaklava. Perhaps she too had listened to the sea birds and grown used to the incessant clipping of one vessel against another. A few words from her would set everything right.
My lovely Mariella, my amazing girl, I can’t believe you have come all this way to find me
...I was sure that she would explain Henry’s behavior in a few dismissive words...
fantasy...delirium...war fever
.

Where was she? Perhaps very close. The Crimea was surely not big enough to contain us both without her fatal magnetism pulling us together.

T
he next day, in anticipation of Max’s visit
, I dressed with extreme care. Yesterday’s gown had obviously not convinced Barnabus that my expedition to the Crimea was anything other than frivolous, so in the end I chose a spotted muslin blouse, from which I cut all the turquoise ribbons except for one bow at the neck, and a relatively narrow green skirt. I then settled myself on deck and embarked on the painful task of writing a letter to Henry.

The note was short and my tone restrained. Was I writing to the sick, obsessed Henry, or to my fiancé, the rational Dr. Thewell? In the end I stated simply that I had arrived at Balaklava and was taking all possible steps to find Rosa.

My work was disturbed by the extraordinary bustle of the harbor. It was like being confined to an open hutch right in the middle of Kings Cross Station or another of Father’s building sites. Somewhere in the distance was the racket of heavy crates being loaded, yet another steamer came in amidst shouted orders and greetings, carts rumbled along the quay, and pallets were flung about. At one point I saw a series of wagons laden not with baggage but wounded men. I glimpsed a bloodied blanket, an unconscious shape rolling from side to side at the bottom of a cart, and after that gave up trying to write and took up my sewing instead. I decided to remove the lace trims and ruffles from two more of my gowns and thereby make myself less ostentatious in these foreign parts. Even my unsteady fingers could manage the snipping of stitches.

At about midday there was a clop of hooves and a very tall officer wearing a red jacket and tight trousers dismounted nimbly, threw the reins over a nearby post, looked about him while fumbling to do up his collar buttons, shouted questions to passing sailors, and eventually ran up the gangway of the
Royal Albert
and yelled so loudly that curious heads appeared over the railings of the next ship: “Miss Mariella Lingwood. Is she here?”

Nervous excitement was rapidly replaced by a mixture of chagrin and relief that my visitor was not Max Stukeley.

“Lieutenant George Newman, ma’am.”

I folded my sewing, got up, and dropped a curtsey, noting the high polish on Newman’s boots and buttons. “I am Miss Lingwood. This is my maid, Nora McCormack.”

“I’ve been sent to tell you that Captain Stukeley is not in the camp. He’s away on a mission.”

“When will he be back?” asked Nora.

“I’m not able to answer that, ma’am. He’s been gone nearly two weeks, is all I’m at liberty to say. We expect him to be several more days at least.”

“Perhaps he’s at Kerch,” said Nora mysteriously.

The officer gave his hat a half-turn. I said: “Have you no idea when he’ll be back? We can’t wait here indefinitely. In fact we’ll be leaving very soon.”

He looked at me unhappily and I guessed him to be no more than eighteen or nineteen. Nora said: “Perhaps you’ll be wanting a nice cup of tea after your ride, Lieutenant Newman.”

“Thank you.” When Newman and I were alone, he sat with one leg extended in a touching attempt at grown-up military style and tried several resting places for his hat: knee, floor, and nearby chair.

“And how do you find it, here in the Crimea?” Even to my own ears I sounded unnervingly like Mrs. Hardcastle in conversation with one of the governesses.

“It’s not what I’d hoped for, certainly. It was not what I’d envisaged.”

“What had you envisaged?”

“India. That’s the place to be. Had high hopes of that. Mama and Papa were expecting India when they bought me a commission last year. But I mustn’t complain.”

He leant forward and posted his hat between his legs as if preparing to say more but the admiring glint in his eyes made me too uneasy to press him further.

Nora came back with the tea and I poured, faintly amused to be holding a tea party in Balaklava Harbor. Young Lieutenant Newman showed his genteel upbringing by the manner with which he lifted his cup. A rasp of sunlight fell on his exposed brow where the weight of his cap had left a line of angry pimples.

I said: “Did the note from Barnabus mention that I was looking for my cousin who came here as a nurse? Rosa Barr.”

Newman’s tea splashed into his saucer and a flush rose up his neck and cheeks. He looked away from me and his lips twitched involuntarily sideways, distorting the end of his nose. “Rosa—Miss Barr. Was she your cousin?”

“My first cousin, yes. Our mothers are sisters.”

“I see. Ah. Rosa Barr.”

“You’ve heard of her then?”

“Why, yes. I’ve heard of her. I should say I have.”

I drew a deep breath. “Where did you hear of Rosa?”

“Why, at the camp. Of course I did.” Another pause. “She was living there.”

Nora came a little closer to my shoulder. “Ah. Now, is she still among you?”

“No no. Wish she was. But no. Damn... ’Fraid she’s not there anymore... Never actually met her. She was gone a couple of weeks before I arrived.”

“I see. And yet you are familiar with her name, Lieutenant Newman.”

“Because they all talk about her. She lived in a little hut attached to our hospital tents. It was irregular but allowed because she was Stukeley’s sister, sort of.” He looked unhappily down at his cap, now crushed between his hands.

“I’m surprised she was with your regiment. We had understood she might be working in one of the hospitals here. That’s why she left Skutari, we thought, to work for a hospital in Balaklava.”

“I couldn’t say, I don’t know the full story. Only that she shared a hut with a couple of the wives who’ve stayed on... even though their husbands haven’t quite made it, they don’t want to go home. She had no time for the officers, said they had plenty of attention one way or another and didn’t need any more. But my men say that if they were sick or injured, she was the one. They won’t go near the hospital if they can help it. Can’t blame them. Rumors abound of men who go in with an injured toe, carried out dead next day. She used to bait Stukeley, they say. Most of us don’t like crossing him but she had no fear. If he came back with a brace of duck she’d have them cooked up for the men.”

“But by the time you arrived, she’d gone. Where?”

“Ah, no idea. None at all. Not the foggiest.” But I noticed that Newman would not meet my eye. “She’s said to have disappeared into thin air. Left all her possessions behind in a box. Stukeley won’t have her name mentioned now.”

“What do you think has happened to her?” asked Nora.

“I don’t know.” But Nora held him with her stern gaze until he stumbled into speech again. “You do hear...The truth is people do disappear. The cholera can strike a man down in a matter of hours. There’s been talk of raiding parties, Tatars or Greeks. And then some men can’t stand the incessant firing. The guns. In the end they go strange and wander off.” By now he was in a trance of misery.

I took up my sewing. Nora said briskly: “Well, that’s enough of Miss Barr. Tell us about yourself. What kind of a time have you been having here?”

“Not so good. Tedious mostly. Night after night in the batteries.”

“And what’s that like?”

“Oh, you know. Not much to it. Trying to stay alert; sending the men up to mend the barricades when they get smashed up; dodging the shots that come over; returning as good as we get. Our regiment has had some heavy losses one way or another during the winter, so a lot of us are brand-new to the work. You lie about in the grass half the day, in the evening you dine with your friends as if it were the old days, at school, say, then at night off you go to the trenches, and the next morning three or four of you are gone. Can’t quite get the hang of it, you know.” My sewing hung still in my hands as I noted that his eyes had filled with tears.

Nora poured more tea. “I doubt you get much time for taking tea with the ladies, so just you make the most of it. I wish we had a slice of cake to offer you. And in the meantime tell us about Max Stukeley. He seems to have survived all right for a year or more. But then that boy has a devilish luck on him.”

“He does.” Newman ran the back of his hand under his nose. “He leads, we follow. We can’t resist. He sweeps us up like it was a game of tag or some such. Whoosh, we’re in. But some of the newest recruits are so raw even Max struggles with them. They’re all over the place. Ask too many questions before they’ll obey an order. I’m not used to it myself, like I say, but I’ve been trying to bring them up to speed while he’s away. Uphill struggle.”

“Of course the young mistress,” said Nora, wagging her head at me, “is engaged to be married to one of the doctors who was out here, a Dr. Thewell. You must have heard of him, surely?”

Newman sat upright, stared, then concentrated again on his cup.

“Or maybe you missed him too,” said Nora. “He was taken ill and had to be sent away. We saw him in Italy just now. He’d had a bad time of it, seemingly. We did wonder if Rosa and he might have met up.”

It was intolerable that Nora should share my intimate life with a complete stranger. When I stood up Newman shot to his feet. “You’ve been very kind taking the trouble to come here, Lieutenant.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Miss Lingwood?”

“Thank you. No.”

“How would it be if I took you on a little excursion next time I’ve got a free hour or so? Showed you the lay of the land. I could borrow a pony for you perhaps and we could go up to the ruin, and Mrs. McCormack too, if she likes. There is a wonderful view of the harbor from there, and very safe.”

“The ruin?”

“The old Genoese fortress, you see up there on the cliffs? It has a twin, over in Therapia, you might have seen it while you were in Constantinople. No? Well, I’d be glad to show you, I was always very fond of ancient buildings at home. I believe some of the other ladies have been there for a picnic and enjoyed the view.”

“I’m afraid I have no head for heights,” I said firmly, wondering what Barnabus would say if he caught me on a jaunt along the cliff with a young officer.

“I should like to go,” said Nora, “if you’ll take me.”

“I cannot spare you, Nora. What are you thinking of?” I said sharply. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, there is no question of either of us coming with you.”

Newman’s eyes were heavy with disappointment and he stood about for a little longer glancing hopefully into our faces but neither of us spoke. “Well, then,” he said, “never mind. Not to worry. And of course when Stukeley gets back I’ll tell him I saw you.”

Nora followed him to the quay side. “How is Captain Stukeley in himself? ” I heard her ask.

I didn’t catch the reply, which was lengthy. Instead I marched down to the cabin, furious with her for making me look a fool over the expedition to the fortress. Mrs. Hardcastle, I thought, would advise me to dismiss Nora but that was hardly possible when I had no other companion within a thousand miles. In the end I decided simply to tell her that if she persisted in contradicting me I would have to write home suggesting that her situation should be reviewed on our return to England.

After a while Nora came down and watched me. When I paid her no attention she shut the door and put her hands on her hips. At last she exclaimed: “Oh, for feck’s sake.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“What the feck are you doin’ here?”

“I will
not
be spoken to in that...”

“Oh no, you won’t, will you, but who’s going to stop me?”

“Enough, Nora.” I ripped the gathering thread out of a ruffle and began winding the strip of material round and round my fingers. Meanwhile she had come to rest with her back to the door. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that her bosom was heaving under her brown serge blouse and she was watching me closely.

“I won’t stop it,” she said, her accent much stronger than usual. “I’ll speak my mind now I’ve gone thus far. Do you want to find Rosa or not?”

“Of course I want to find her.”

“Then why did you send that boy packing? There’s all sorts we might have learnt from him.”