Twenty-two

 

The Bulgarian Embassy was in a large house in a side street in Kensington. Like the Embassy in Rome, it was full of pictures of Bulgarian peasants in fezzes and what Edward had learned were called ‘crap-catcher’ trousers.

The ambassador kept him waiting but was informative enough when he was finally shown in. ‘The problem is Macedonia,’ he said. ‘Its borders touch Albania, Greece, Bulgaria and Montenegro, which creates a volatile mix of people. Yet it belongs to Turkey.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Greece, Serbia and Montenegro have allied themselves with our country and are already driving the Turks out of Thrace. The war will be over soon and there is no reason whatsoever why the King should not buy your boats. I would recommend that you proceed as planned.’

It seemed risky but, after a conference with Egg and Maurice, it was decided to go ahead as the ambassador advised.

‘If Ferdinand turns them down,’ Maurice added, ‘you can always sell them to some millionaire in Monte Carlo.’

‘Are we selling them as war equipment?’ Edward asked. ‘Because, if we are, the Turks are going to have something to say about that. To get them to Bulgaria we have to go through the Dardanelles and the Bosporus, all Turkish territory. They could seize them.’

‘Why not go by rail through Austria.’

‘Austria’s opposed to Serbia establishing herself on the Adriatic,’ Edward pointed out. ‘She’ll think the boats are for use against her.’

‘Russia?’

‘Russia’s opposed to Bulgaria controlling the Sea of Marmara.’

‘My, aren’t we the little expert,’ Maurice sneered.

Edward ignored him. ‘We’ll go via Batum as planned,’ he said. ‘It’ll be all right.’

 

There were still over three weeks to go and Edward saw Leroux’s boat off to Cape Town on the deck of a freighter. He still seethed about Georgina. The thought that she had been in the same hotel, probably in the same room, even the same bed, with Owen-Smith infuriated him. But he was besotted, and wanted desperately to see her again.

Nobody answered his knock, and the door was unlocked. Edward walked into the hall.

‘Let me go!’ It was Augusta’s voice.

He saw her jammed in the corner at the foot of the stairs and struggling with a man. Edward yanked him away, and hurled him against the wall. It was Owen-Smith.

Edward didn’t hesitate. He grabbed hold of the curate, dragged him down the hallway and flung him out into the drive.

‘If I find you round here again,’ he yelled, ‘I’ll break your neck.’

Pale and wild-eyed, Owen-Smith picked himself up. ‘My hat–’

Augusta handed it to Edward who walked over to the curate, slapped him twice round the face with the hat, then dropped it to the ground. As Owen-Smith bent to pick it up, Edward gave him the benefit of a boot up the backside.

‘I’m not sure if you can forbid him the house,’ said Augusta, having got her breath back in the living-room. ‘After all, he is father’s curate!’

They both laughed.

‘I expect you’ve come to see Georgina.’

Suddenly, Edward wasn’t so sure he had. He wasn’t even sure he could face that knowing half-smile she put on that made him feel like a schoolboy again.

‘It’s just as well. She’s gone to London. She’ll be home later.’

‘As a matter of fact,’ Edward blurted out, ‘I came to see you. We haven’t talked for ages. I wondered how you were.’

‘I’m fine. I have a job if I want it. In London. But I have a feeling it’ll be harder than I expected. The rules about nurses seem very inhibiting. One half-day a week. In at night by ten o’clock. No followers. I like that word “followers”. It sounds so innocent, but they clearly think followers aren’t innocent at all. How do they expect girls to go in for nursing when they place so many restrictions on them? Would you like some tea, Teddy? I offered Mr Owen-Smith a sherry. I think it must have gone to his head a little.’

‘You’re pretty, Gussie.’

‘Thank you, Teddy. And thank you for saving me.’

‘From a fate worse than death?’

‘Well, he was getting a bit hot under the collar.’

It was as though Edward was seeing her for the first time. He admired her spirit, and couldn’t understand why he hadn’t noticed before how beautiful she was.

‘Will you marry me, Gussie?’ he found himself saying.

She stared at him with her huge eyes. ‘Me, Teddy?’

‘Why not? We’ve known each other all our lives.’

‘I always thought it was Georgina you were after.’

‘It was.’ He paused. ‘Once. But I don’t think she’s interested in me.’

‘So you thought you’d try someone else…’

‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ he said, feeling hot with embarrassment. ‘I thought I was in love with your sister. But I was wrong. I’ve been a fool.’

There was an awkward pause. ‘So what do you think, Gussie. Will you marry me?’

‘Oh Teddy! I’ve adored you all my life. You must have known.’

‘Yes, I suppose I did.’

She took his hands. ‘Oh, Teddy! Dearest Teddy. Don’t you think we ought to kiss each other?’

‘Do you mean you will?’

‘Yes, Teddy. Yes, I will.’

He kissed her on the lips and found it curiously satisfying.

‘We’ll need at least three weeks for the banns to be called.’

‘We could do it by special licence.’

‘Don’t be so cruel. This will be Mother’s day and she’ll want to make something of it.’

‘It’ll be your day, too.’

‘But you have made my dreams come true today.’

‘I don’t deserve you,’ Edward said. ‘But we can’t hang about. I have to go to Bulgaria in three weeks.’

‘I’ll come with you.’

He kissed her again. ‘Not this time, Gussie,’ he said gently. ‘There’s already been fighting out there. It’s no place for a woman. But I have to go. I seem to have sold a couple of boats to the King of Bulgaria.’

The Vicar and his wife were startled, but not disappointed. Augusta, they had considered, was going to be more difficult to marry off than the luscious Georgina who already had hordes of admirers.

‘Isn’t Gussie a bit young, though?’ the Vicar asked.

‘Father, I’m nineteen.’

‘I always thought–’ the Vicar’s wife began, then she stopped and managed a nervous smile. The slender boy she had known was now a man, determined, self-possessed – even, she thought, just a touch piratical.

‘Very well,’ she said. ‘We can arrange it for next spring.’

‘Not next spring,’ Edward said quietly. ‘I don’t know where I’ll be by then.’

‘Autumn then.’

‘Too late.’

The Vicar’s wife looked both startled and annoyed.

‘We have to do it in three weeks’ time.’

‘Augusta, you aren’t–?’

Augusta smiled. ‘No, Mother, I’m not.’

‘But three weeks. People will talk.’

‘Let them,’ Edward said.

‘They’ll think.’

‘Let them.’

‘It just can’t be done,’ the Vicar said. ‘I would hope to have the Bishop perform the ceremony. He’s an old friend and I’m sure he would wish to. I would assist, of course. And Alexander will have to be there to help–’

‘If that bloody man comes within a mile of the church,’ Edward said savagely, ‘I’ll…’

The Vicar went purple and his wife sagged faintly back on the settee.

‘And what, pray, has Alexander done to make you take this outrageous view?’ the Vicar asked.

‘Never mind what he’s done,’ Edward said. ‘But if we can’t get married here without that toad being present, then we’ll get married somewhere else.’

‘Augusta,’ the Vicar said, trying to keep his temper under control, ‘what have you got to say?’

‘I agree with Edward,’ she said, in a small uncertain voice.

‘He’ll be most disappointed.’

‘Good,’ Edward said. ‘But I don’t think he’ll raise any objections when you let him know.’

Suddenly Georgina was in the doorway. She was dressed in blue as usual and looked beautiful enough to melt ice. She had obviously heard everything as she took off her hat and gloves in the hall.

‘Good old Gussie,’ she said cheerfully. ‘What a clever girl you are.’

‘They’re going to get married,’ her mother wailed. ‘In three weeks. Can’t you do anything to dissuade them?’

‘Knowing Ned, I doubt it. And I’m not going to try. I think they’re very wise not to delay.’ Georgina crossed to her sister and, putting her arms round her, hugged her. ‘You clever girl,’ Edward heard her whisper. ‘Don’t let him go. And don’t take a bit of notice of Mother and Father.’

Augusta kissed her warmly for her honesty and Georgina crossed to Edward.

‘Well done, Ned,’ she said softly as she kissed him. ‘You’ve got a much better bargain in Gussie, you know.’

 

The marriage service was performed by the Vicar three weeks later. There was no Bishop.

The reception was small and held at the Vicarage. Because of the hurry, there were few relatives and, apart from Egg, Aunt Edith and Maurice, not many people from the village. Alexander Owen-Smith was conspicuous by his absence.

They went to London for the honeymoon, arriving in the late afternoon and spending the evening at a show. Afterwards Edward couldn’t recall what it was because he spent the entire three acts deep in thought, tinglingly aware that he’d had a very narrow escape. Marriage to Georgina would have been a hell of continual worry and uncertainty.

Back at the hotel, the desk clerk handed Edward a telegram. It consisted of just four words. ‘Congratulations, dearest Edward. Rafaela.’

He wondered how she had got to know but then Orlandos had their agents everywhere. Someone must have seen the announcement in The Times and passed it on to her.

‘Who’s it from, Edward?’

‘A friend in Italy,’ he said. ‘Her family took me in when the George V. Cotterill was wrecked. She and her mother were the only two in her family to survive the earthquake.’

‘Were you in love with her, Teddy? Tell me, I shan’t mind.’

‘No,’ he replied, though he wasn’t sure he was telling the truth. ‘The family were very kind to me and I did what I could to help. She’s worth a great deal of money. Far too important to be interested in me.’

In their room, she studied him. ‘Teddy,’ she whispered. ‘Do you regret what we’ve done?’

‘Not for a minute, Gussie.’

He didn’t need a drink but he was aware that formalities had to be observed and it was usual to allow the bride time to prepare. He felt curiously nervous, all thumbs and elbows. ‘I’ll just pop downstairs,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

Augusta gave him a little smile. ‘I shall be waiting for you,’ she said.

Heart beating, Edward sat in the reading room trying to absorb the newspaper. The trouble in the Balkans seemed to be increasing. The Greeks, Serbians, Montenegrins and Bulgarians seemed to be organising themselves very effectively. In Edward’s mind it could only be for all-out war. It was time he headed back to the Mediterranean.

When he reached their room, Augusta was in bed and he crossed to the bathroom without really looking at her while she avoided his eyes by ostentatiously seeking a handkerchief from the bedside table. He noticed she was wearing a nightdress with a frill at the neck and that her hair was neatly brushed.

Cleaning his teeth at the washbasin, he stared at himself in the mirror, and found himself thinking of Rafaela again. It was as though time stood still and he was listening to her voice, seeing the line of her figure, and her face with its proud nose, the fierce dark eyes.

‘Damn it,’ he said out loud.

He was surprised to find the light was still on in the bedroom because he’d always understood that new wives liked to meet their husbands in bed for the first time in darkness.

Gussie looked as innocent as a child about to say her catechism.

She lifted her arms to him. ‘Come along, Edward,’ she whispered. ‘I expect you know what to do.’

 

Gussie went with him to London to see him off on the boat-train at Victoria. She had changed. Even in four days she had gained assurance and confidence, and she looked stunning in green with a feathered toque on her head.

They talked by the open door of the compartment as if they’d been married for years.

‘I shall be back within a month,’ Edward said.

‘Will you take me to Bulgaria later when things have quietened down?’

‘Of course I will.’

The guard came along the platform, making sure the carriage doors were all closed. Taking Gussie in his arms, Edward held her for a long time, then kissed her and turned away abruptly.

‘I love you, Edward,’ he heard her say.