The Coffee Room of the Reform Club is, as usual in the middle of the week, full for luncheon. The Club Trolley of traditional roast rib of beef is the choice of most members, but Lamb Cutlets Reform, the invention of the club’s legendary chef, Alexis Soyer, is also very popular, as is his equally renowned Club Trifle for pudding. Not that either dish is all that remarkable in concept or execution. Lamb Cutlets Reform is simply lamb cutlets in breadcrumbs with an onion sauce. Club Trifle is typical English trifle, but with an inordinate amount of cream and lashings of sherry-soaked sponge. The members of the Reform may have sophisticated, radical principles, but their culinary tastes are distinctly gauche.
As Winston is taking luncheon in the bastion of liberalism with the son of a duke, who is also a Tory MP, he does not receive quite the same welcome as when he is with Lloyd George. Also, his star has waned a little, even among fellow liberals, since recent attacks in the press about his handling of the Admiralty and his involvement in the defence of Antwerp.
Winston is not looking forward to his meeting with Bardie Stewart-Murray, so he girds his loins with a stiff drink beforehand and paves the way by ordering a claret that is far too expensive for a midweek lunch. Bardie notices both and braces himself for bad news.
‘So, Winston, how is Clemmie and your third child – Sarah, I think?’
‘Yes, Sarah; both are well, thank you, Bardie. They are with me at the flat at the Admiralty, which is very satisfactory. I am sorry to hear about your brothers. I was with the King on Wednesday and he told me that your father is not taking the news too well.’
‘No, he’s pretty glum about it all, but I’ve kept the worst bit from him. I have had a letter from a Captain Marinden, an officer in the Black Watch, Geordie’s regiment, which is not the best of news. He said that he had met a man in Dalmeny Hospital, in Lothian, the other day, who told him that Geordie was severely wounded at the Battle of the Aisne. His men dressed his wounds but were driven back by an enemy attack and had to leave him under cover in a quarry. The men said they had little hope that he could survive his injuries.’
‘I’m so sorry, Bardie, I’m afraid it doesn’t sound too promising. Don’t you think you should tell your father? It will be for the best in the long run.’
‘I know, and I intend to tell him when I next go to Blair. Hamish will be there, which will help. My sisters have had a bit of a scare too. Evelyn, who lives in Belgium, just managed to get out of Malines before the Germans ransacked her apartment. And Dertha’s husband, Ruggles-Brise, got a bit too close to a German whizz-bang and is in hospital in Boulogne.’
‘How’s he doing?’
‘All right, I think; Dertha’s with him. His shoulders have been peppered with shrapnel, but he’s in one piece, and they think he’ll be up and about in a month or so.’
‘And Helen?’
‘She’s well, but she’s another source of concern to Father. She runs the house and estate, as you know, and Father relies on her so much. But she’s taken up with an Edinburgh chap who is not to Father’s liking.’
‘Let me guess: not aristocratic, perhaps even middle class, and a bit of a liberal?’
‘Yes, all of those things! A businessman and a sculptor of some renown, apparently, who plays opera all the time on one of those new Tournaphones.’
‘Oh dear, Bardie, he sounds like an absolute cad!’
At first Bardie is not sure if Winston is serious. But when his luncheon companion smiles at him mischievously, he realizes the remark was said tongue-in-cheek. Winston steers the conversation towards its intended destination.
‘I hear you’ve seen Lord K. What are his plans for your Scottish Horse?’
‘Well, they’re infuriating, to be truthful. Kitchener seems very agitated about an invasion on the east coast and has said that he is drawing up plans to use the Scottish Horse for coastal defence duties for the time being. The bugger is, I’m now at brigade strength, with three regiments raring to go. So I asked him to send at least one to France. He said no, categorically, but to be patient, my time will come.’
‘I’m sure it will, Bardie. K is a little preoccupied with this invasion threat he’s got into his head, no matter what I say to convince him otherwise. Is Kitty with you at Kettering?’
‘She is; we’re staying at Boughton House, near Kettering, courtesy of Billy Douglas-Scott. Now, you’ll be amused by this; she’s organizing the knitting of thousands of hose tops for the Scottish regiments.’
‘Very thoughtful of her; we can’t have the Scots boys feeling the bite of winter’s wind around the Trossachs! And how is Kitty?’
‘Thriving. As you know, she’s into everything. She wants to go into Parliament, and I think she will one day.’
‘But I thought you told me she was opposed to the suffragettes?’
‘She is!’
‘How strange is the female mind, Bardie. I think they’re cleverer than us, but just have strange ways of showing it.’
As the banter continues, Bardie is led to reflect on the recent improvement in his relationship with Kitty. However, it has only got better after initially getting much worse. Following the violent row and sexual frisson at the end of July, at Eaton Place, which sparked a new passion between them, Kitty heard rumours from a girlfriend that Bardie is the father of another illicit child, this time a boy, slightly older than Eileen Macallum, his child by his mistress in Mayfair. The boy’s mother is from the Scottish lesser-gentry and lives in Ayrshire.
Following the news, Kitty immediately went to London to speak to her mother’s lawyer – not to ask for a divorce, but to seek a way to formalize a new arrangement for their marriage. Her terms were very simple: Bardie has to make an annual payment to each child of £150. Although the children will always be welcome at Blair Atholl, the two mothers will not be and their names are never to be mentioned in his wife’s company. Bardie may carry on seeing both women, but only in circumstances beyond Kitty’s awareness and only infrequently.
As for the two of them, they will continue to live together as man and wife, but in separate bedrooms and without conjugal rights. Should there be any other mistresses or children, the same rules will apply. It is also stipulated that Kitty will be free to pursue her own ‘friendships’, should she wish to.
An appropriate document was drawn up, which Bardie has signed, and has now been deposited in their lawyers’ safes. Although it has taken time to adjust to the new arrangement, their marriage is now maturing into a long-term friendship and both are happy with the outcome. It is a state of affairs perhaps helped by the fact that, while they have been staying at Boughton House, it has been difficult for Bardie to visit either Ayrshire or Mayfair. However, now that he is in London, and close to the Curzon Street home of his London mistress, he will be paying her a visit, a temptation he cannot resist.
Winston, having got all the way to cheese and an accompanying glass of port, cannot avoid the main reason for the lunch any longer.
‘Bardie, old boy, I need to give you a little more bad news. I’m sorry that it coincides with a difficult time for your family.’
‘Winston, I think I can spare you the details. The Dunne prototypes don’t pass muster, do they?’
‘I’m afraid not, Bardie. They are very clever, ideal for civilian use, and may well make excellent training aircraft. But in a war zone, they are not sturdy enough.’
‘I understand, and I think Dunne has already come to the same conclusion. But he just can’t bring himself to say so.’
‘I know I made you some promises when I came to see you at Blair Atholl. But my engineers are adamant; it’s a very manoeuvrable light aircraft, but it’s not a warplane. I can’t go against their advice.’
‘I understand. These decisions have to be taken on their merits. We’re at war, there is no room for sentiment or favouritism.’
‘Look, if it makes any difference, I’d be happy to have Dunne and his engineers at Farnborough. They would make a genuine contribution.’
‘Thank you, Winston, that may well help; Dunne’s a funny chap, but very clever. His latest theory is that time isn’t chronological, but that the past, present and future all exist at the same time. He claims that sometimes he has dreams that happen in the future.’
‘Really! Well, that could be bloody useful, especially if he can tell Kitchener what the Kaiser’s going to do this winter.’
Both men laugh loudly.
The lunch has gone far better than Winston thought it would, and he is grateful for Bardie’s generosity of spirit. He walks the short distance back to the Admiralty, feeling far better than when he left.
As for Bardie, he can look forward to the comforts to be had in Curzon Street this evening.