A Distant Hero Read online

  ‘As Mrs Blanchworth’s guests are probably as ignorant as she on the virtue of a picture, does it really matter?’

  ‘Of course it matters! I’ll sell nothing I left here at Knightshill. It was created by an eye that saw little else but prettiness.’

  ‘That’s absurd! You thought very highly of them at the time, and your friends certainly appreciated their worth. Mrs Bourneville was delighted with the exquisite pair of orchid watercolours you presented to her.’

  This reminder of a period in his life he preferred to forget sharpened his tone. ‘My friends appreciated their gifts. I didn’t sell them, Lottie. There is a vast difference between trifles given to friends and paintings created by the compulsion to show life chequered by beauty and savagery. Knightshill is a sheltered corner. Outside these acres lies an exciting, complex world of which I knew little until I was driven to leave. That is my stimulus now. I was no artist when I did watercolours of mice, butterflies or poppies, merely a copier of prettiness. Now I see things beyond my immediate vision.’

  His sister’s eyebrows rose. ‘How intense you sound! There is nothing here in Wiltshire remotely similar to those desert battle scenes which brought you acclaim. So what will you do? You cannot mean to abandon your God-given talent and sit idle rather than paint the beauty of this “sheltered corner”.’

  Vere was spared a reply by the entry of Sir Gilliard. Tall, white-haired and erect, his features etched by years of discipline and experience, he looked none the worse for the late hour of the previous evening. The old man always drank his sherry standing, so Vere rose to pour him some before refilling his own glass.

  ‘Saw you prowling back and forth out there,’ Sir Gilliard declared in the manner of an accusation. ‘Only just out of your sick-bed, man. Is it your intention to return to it and remain there, hey?’

  Vere offered him the glass of sherry. ‘I saw Colonel Dunwoody and his officers on their way soon after ten. They seemed confident enough of getting through to Dunstan, but if the line is blocked by snow it’s there they’ll be forced to stay until trains are running again.’

  ‘Trains!’ snorted Sir Gilliard disparagingly. ‘Stage coaches simply made diversions when roads were blocked. These confounded steam engines are confined to tracks which are forever awash, blocked by a landslide or covered in snow. Where would an army be if it had to depend on a train?’

  Vere told him. ‘It would be where it was required to be far quicker than it was in your time, sir. Without the railway Kitchener determinedly laid across the sands we would, at present, be only half-way to Khartoum. Trains brought our reinforcements, ammunition and food supplies from Cairo. They were a godsend.’

  Sir Gilliard grunted. ‘Think you know it all after just one campaign. Common fault in young officers.’

  Vere took the empty glass his grandfather held out and walked to the decanter. ‘Young officers are only old enough to have served in one campaign.’

  This met with a louder grunt. ‘Your tongue has grown very smooth. Saw you using it to great effect on Dunwoody last night.’

  It was the ideal opening for what Vere must say, yet he delayed the moment. ‘He was interested in my account of the war … and in the sketches I did before the advance from Abu Hamed.’

  ‘Sketches! Dunwoody’s a military commander, not one of those namby-pamby fellahs in smocks. He don’t know the first thing about pictures.’

  This disparagement of something Vere loved fuelled his resolution. ‘But he knows that I do. It influenced his decision to invite me to fill a vacancy in his regiment.’ Sir Gilliard’s upright stance straightened further; his blue eyes grew brighter with moisture. ‘Dunwoody told me the splendid news as he retired last night.’ He sighed with satisfaction. ‘You will be following in the footsteps of every male Ashleigh since 1542 when Sir Thomas founded the yeomanry which has become the West Wiltshire Regiment. You are finally fulfilling your destiny, my boy.’ He raised his glass to Vere. ‘I do not expect you to match the deeds of your heroic brother, but I am confident that you will do nothing to tarnish them when the regiment reaches China.’

  ‘China!’ It was no more than a horrified whisper from the white-faced girl who rose from her chair to confront Vere. ‘The regiment is going to China? You cannot have agreed to cross the world to a savage land when you have barely recovered from the dangers of the Sudan. Are you mad? Soldiering has never been in your blood, Vere. You are an artist. You cannot sacrifice your talent by joining a regiment which has already taken such toll of this family.’

  Sir Gilliard was lost in pursuit of his recollections. ‘I was out there with the regiment during the Opium Wars, y’know. Fought the devils to the gates of Peking. Savage people; wild, exotic terrain. You will find it fascinating, Vere. I envy you. Yes, I envy you the years of campaigning ahead; the cornucopia of military experience. If I had my time again … ’ He sighed. ‘Ah, well, I shall follow your career with avid interest. These damned Boxers are creating a growing threat to our trade agreements, to say nothing of our political aspirations in the Far East. Fatal to let it continue. A well-planned intensive campaign will make short work of them, I promise. What I would give to be at them again and wreak revenge! Lost some of my best men when we rushed their forts, skewered on barricades of sharpened bamboos cunningly placed around the walls.’

  Charlotte’s hand gripped Vere’s arm in growing distress, as she cried, ‘Is that what you want — to die in such hideous fashion? The Bourneville girl cannot still mean so much to you that you will risk your life a second time to please her.’

  Dismayed by the way the conversation was running away from him, Vere said, ‘Lottie, please … ’

  She paid no heed. ‘Knightshill is your home. You have always loved it deeply. Stay here and run the estate as you did before. This is where you belong.’

  ‘He belongs with a regiment which has been served with honour by his family since it was formed,’ Sir Gilliard contradicted, his voice ringing with the authority gained by sixty-five years of military command. ‘Now, my boy, it may be cutting things rather fine but there is time before you leave at the end of March to fix your interest with a suitable young woman. Once the Ashleigh rubies are on her finger, there will be no impropriety in her sailing to join you by the end of the year. Two of my officers married in China under similar circumstances. The brides travelled together to Peking. The regiment gave both couples a splendid party after the double ceremony.’ This speech filled Vere with the confidence in his decision which had been elusive while he had paced the snow but, on the point of speaking, he was forestalled by his grandfather, still fired by enthusiastic plans.

  ‘Yes, yes, it is all working out splendidly! We will hold receptions, send invitations to suitable young women from whom you may make your choice. A wife will enable you to do your duty as my heir, and the West Wilts will make a real man of you.’

  Never one to lose his temper, Vere came close to doing so. ‘I am already a real man, sir. It is possible to achieve the state outside the family regiment, and I have made it perfectly plain on several occasions since my return from the Sudan that I have the right to control my own life. Despite being greatly tempted by the prospect of seeing the Orient, I declined Gerard Dunwoody’s invitation.’

  ‘Thank God,’ breathed Charlotte, gripping his arm again. ‘Why did you allow me to believe the reverse?’ Vere stepped away from her, still angry. ‘Because you have both been so busy trying to run my life during the past few minutes I have had no chance to conclude the subject I started. Perhaps I may now be allowed to do so.’ When Vere turned to his grandfather he met the piercing gaze that had withered many young men, and was momentarily silenced by it.

  ‘As you are not prone to practical jokes I must conclude that what you say is true,’ said Sir Gilliard.

  ‘Yes, sir. I’m sorry if I disappoint you.’

  ‘You have always done that,’ came the icily quelling comment, ‘but I had dared to hope the Sudan had made something of you.’ />
  ‘It made me realize that a man cannot be changed simply by wearing different clothes,’ Vere said resolutely. ‘I donned a military uniform and did the duty it demanded of me to the best of my ability, but I failed to become an instinctive, wholehearted warrior. Instead, I became a better artist. I now intend to pursue a career for which I am truly fitted.’

  ‘You refused Dunwoody’s offer to serve your queen and country merely to become an effeminate wielder of brushes?’ The question was flung at Vere in tones of deepest disgust. ‘You recently participated in a fierce military campaign to right a wrong and avenge the murder of your brother. You saw how men can sacrifice their own lives to save a fellow from death; how they can put aside all personal desires for the good of the regiment and the cause. You must have witnessed many instances of supreme courage in the face of the enemy, or in the bearing with fortitude of the agony of wounds. Now you can stand there and tell me you mean to resign your commission to spend your days splashing paint on canvas?’ The voice rose to a roar. ‘Have you no honour?’

  Vere moved closer to impress his words upon a man nearing a stage beyond calm reason. ‘I believe I have a duty to use the talent I was given. My sketches from the Sudan brought home to many the truth of that desert war. It was my manner of honouring those I watched performing all the valiant deeds you have just mentioned. Each of us has to serve in the way best suited to his ability, sir, and I shall do my utmost to bring distinction to the Ashleigh name, but with the brush rather than with the sword. There’s surely no lack of honour in that.’

  After several moments of contemptuous scrutiny Sir Gilliard slowly and deliberately turned his back on the young man who had shattered his glittering dreams of the morning.

  Vere finally lost control of his temper as he had once before with this inflexible man. ‘You would have allowed no one to turn you from your youthful ambitions. You have no right to turn me from mine. It was because you tried to do so with Val that he behaved as he did. He was a desperate, inexperienced schoolboy, but I am twenty-seven and a great deal wiser than I was two years ago. You have ruined his future; you will not do so with mine. Membership of the West Wiltshire Regiment does not automatically make a man superior to the rest of the human race. Wearing their scarlet and blue would never have made me into the heir you require. Nothing will. You must accept me as the person I am.’

  Still with his back towards Vere, Sir Gilliard said in a voice shaking with emotion, ‘Be good enough to go. I do not care to eat luncheon with a dilettante.’

  Although shaken, Vere stood his ground. When Annabel Bourneville had broken their engagement it had precipitated a quarrel so bitter between him and this man who could not relinquish an ideal that the rift had not closed for two years. A crack had nevertheless remained. It now widened with devastating swiftness, but Vere was stronger than he had been on that earlier occasion and determined on a course of action from which no one would turn him.

  Charlotte had been forgotten until she came alongside Vere and took his arm. ‘You are both tired after an evening which always heightens sad memories, and we are all still suffering the after-effects of influenza. Come to my room. We’ll eat there.’ Initially he resisted her attempt to draw him away but, after studying the stiff back of his grandparent who maintained standards almost impossible to meet, Vere realized the only answer was to do as his sister suggested. Anger still burned within him, however, and he unlinked their arms as they crossed the hall.

  Recognizing his mood, Charlotte glanced up in appeal. ‘Do try to understand, Vere. He believed his greatest dream had come true, until you disillusioned him.’

  ‘He had to know,’ he replied stiffly.

  ‘Of course. He’ll recover, in time.’

  ‘No. He’s never been prepared to accept what I am.’ His sister ignored that. ‘You’ve made the right decision. You can run your beloved estate and paint to your heart’s content here at Knightshill, a worthier heir than any other if Grandfather would only see it.’ Reaching the foot of the stairs, she paused to say gently, ‘One thing I must protest about. It was unjust to accuse him of being responsible for Val’s disgrace.’

  ‘He is,’ Vere insisted, still in the depths of the quarrel left unresolved.

  ‘Nonsense! Val was always wayward, and he has a history of misbehaviour with females.’

  ‘He was once caught kissing a baker’s daughter. That does not constitute a history, Lottie.’

  ‘The affair at Chartfield involved the wife of his housemaster, a woman ten years Val’s senior,’ she retaliated. ‘How can you justify your claim that Grandfather is responsible for that?’

  Vere gave a heavy sigh. ‘If he had allowed Val to join the cavalry instead of the West Wilts, the lad would presently be fulfilling his true destiny and providing the old man with all the things I consistently fail to give. If you were a man, Lottie, he’d be driving you to despair in the same way. Be thankful he takes such little interest in you.’

  She slipped her arm through his again and used tones more appropriate to soothing children. ‘You’re clearly in a difficult mood so there’s little point in arguing with you. Walking out there in the snowy garden for so long has made you irritable.’

  Anger again ignited. ‘I needed to be alone and the gardens provide my only hope of solitude lately.’ He disengaged himself firmly. ‘My deliberations in the snow left me still uncertain of the wisdom of my decision concerning the West Wilts. When you and Grandfather began telling me what I should do with my life — two opposite opinions, please note — I knew why I have chosen to leave Knightshill as soon as possible.’

  ‘Leave Knightshill? But you just now told Grandfather … ’

  ‘I told him I chose not to go to China with his precious regiment, that’s all. I had made plans to travel to Italy before Dunwoody gave his tempting offer. It was a case of deciding which course to pursue.’

  ‘Italy? Whyever would you go there?’ Charlotte demanded emotionally.

  Conscious that their voices were echoing throughout the house, Vere drew her into a small room known as the gold salon. Winters, the butler, had probably overheard too much already this morning.

  Once inside the room whose decor gave it its name, Charlotte confronted him, her expression wild. ‘You have made plans to leave Knightshill and said nothing of them to me?’

  ‘Should I have?’

  She turned away to sit in a chair before the fire. ‘So you intend to be cruel to me now.’

  He was exasperated. ‘Don’t be melodramatic. I’m in no mood for it.’ Perching on the edge of the chair beside hers, he added, ‘I would have told you once everything was settled. It wasn’t my intention to leave without saying goodbye, as I did when I went to the Sudan.’

  ‘I suppose I must be glad of that, at least.’

  Vere found her wounded attitude irritating, but struggled to see her point of view as he embarked on an explanation to a sister for whom their childhood bond was still very strong. ‘When I read in the news of Philip’s death and wrote the fact to Margaret via Nicolardi’s family in Verona, I decided to deliver my letter in person in the hope of discovering her whereabouts from them. Enthusiasm for the idea led me to think of travelling on to Florence, Rome and Venice to see some of the world’s greatest works of art. When influenza delayed my departure, I sent the letter by mail so that Margaret would learn the news at the earliest opportunity. By the same post I wrote booking passage on a steamer leaving for Naples next month.’

  Charlotte gave a wide, relieved smile. ‘I’m sorry, Vere, I misunderstood. This morning has been rather upsetting. Of course you must take a holiday in Italy. The warm climate will return you to full health.’ Warming to her theme, she added, ‘Why don’t I accompany you? I confess to feeling a lingering weakness myself. The sunshine will do us both so much good.’ She clasped her hands together eagerly. ‘Yes, what a splendid plan! Can you believe we shall finally see the wonders we thought were denied us as the invalids of the family? Next month,
you said? It leaves me very little time to assemble all we shall need for an extended tour abroad. I must start to make lists.’

  Deeply dismayed by a development he had not foreseen, Vere knew there was no way he could avoid hurting someone who had grown too dependent on him through loneliness. It seemed to him that he was still fighting for his freedom by saying what he must.

  ‘This is not to be a holiday, Lottie. While Grandfather remains master of Knightshill, I mean to broaden my experience in every way open to me. I plan to spend at least a year wandering the Mediterranean coast studying the works of the great masters, doing some experimental work of my own and seeking the acquaintance of those who might influence my future career. It’s possible I may travel even further afield — Turkey, Russia. The rich culture of the land of white nights is said to defy description.’ In the face of her dawning distress, he forced himself to continue. ‘I need to be a free agent, to be able to travel anywhere, to places unsuitable for females.’

  Leaning forward to impress his words upon her, he confessed to being restless. ‘The desert still haunts me. Riding across it for ten days with only a Sudanese guide was an experience words cannot describe. It forces a man to put his life into perspective: it makes him supremely conscious of being unimportant to the passage of time.’ As he spoke, memory took him back to that awesome, desolate, antique land, and words tumbled from him. ‘The vastness is incredible. There is nothing but sand, yet it has greater power over men than the most strongly fortified city. To traverse the desert and survive is comparable to defeating a formidable enemy. Lottie, imagine waking to find a cream and lemon sky overhanging an ochre landscape, then watching that sky change to orange before it becomes a blinding, brassy heaven burning everything that lies beneath. There is no shade, no water, and one must move on for mile after mile with thoughts becoming fantasies until it’s impossible to distinguish the truth.’ He bent closer in his enthusiasm. ‘Try to picture a moon so large it silvers everything for as far as one can see. The Nile, in daylight muddy brown and scattered with rubbish, becomes a beautiful, glittering ribbon across an enchanted landscape. The desert grows cold — a coldness one finds unbelievable after the debilitating heat — and one feels close to immortality in that argent stillness.’