‘I can’t, Father. I don’t want to upset you, or worry you, but I must go. Please, do try to understand my point of view.’
‘Edwin, you don’t have to volunteer. Only single men have been asked to go to the front.’
‘Yes, I know that, Father. Nevertheless, I have made the decision.’ Edwin stood up, reached for the Yorkshire Morning Gazette on the library table, and said, ‘I don’t have to read this government bulletin to you, Father. You must be familiar with it. The paper has been running it for several days now. But I am going to read it to you.’
‘Look here, Edwin—’ Adam began.
Edwin held up his hand and looked at the newspaper, reading from it carefully and slowly.
‘Your King and Country Need You! Will you answer your country’s call? Each day is fraught with the gravest possibilities and at this very moment the Empire is on the brink of the greatest war in the history of the world. In this crisis your country calls on all of her young men to rally round the Flag and enlist in the ranks of the army. If every patriotic young man answers her call, England and Empire will emerge stronger and more united than ever. If you are unmarried and between eighteen and thirty years old, will you answer your country’s call and go to the nearest recruiting office, whose address you can get at any post office. AND JOIN THE ARMY TODAY!’
Edwin dropped the newspaper on the chesterfield and sat down, his eyes resting on his father.
Adam shook his head wearily. ‘Oh, Edwin, Edwin, don’t try to appeal to my own sense of patriotism. I know the country is in grave danger, but I am concerned about you. That governmental bulletin asks for single men. I beg of you, Edwin—’
‘It’s too late, Father. I joined up this afternoon when I was in Leeds. I have to report on Monday.’
‘Oh, my God! Edwin!’
‘I’m sorry, Father. Please don’t be angry, and please give me your blessing. I don’t want to leave here with your disapproval—’
‘Good heavens, Edwin, I wouldn’t let that happen for the world.’ Adam sprang up and joined his son on the sofa. He put his arm around Edwin’s shoulder and for a horrible moment he thought he was going to cry. ‘Now, my boy, enough of that nonsense. I do wish you had waited, of course. But naturally you have my blessing.’
‘Thank you, Father.’
Adam rose and fixed himself another drink. He propped himself against the mantelshelf and gazed down at Edwin, filled with anguish. I’ve known for days he would do this; nonetheless, it doesn’t make it any easier to bear. ‘I imagine I would do the same, if I were your age, and I’m quite certain my father would have felt the way I feel.’ Adam shook his head. ‘But you’re so young, Edwin. So young.’
‘So is every other Englishman who’s going, Father.’
Adam glanced at Edwin. ‘Have you told Jane about this, my boy?’
Edwin nodded. ‘I told her when we were dressing for dinner. She was upset, but she understands. There has been a long line of soldiers in her family, you know. Her brother told us that he intends to volunteer this coming week.’
‘I see.’ Adam said, looking thoughtful. ‘Will Jane come and live with us in South Audley Street? We’d like that, you know, and I don’t think she should be on her own in Eaton Square. She will be awfully lonely in that big house by herself, with only the servants.’
‘Thank you, Father. I appreciate your kindness. However, Jane told me she wants to go to London next week, close up the house, and return to Yorkshire. She would like to be with her father, since her brother will be going. She likes the country and I think that would be the wisest thing, under the circumstances. Don’t you?’
‘Yes, of course, Edwin. Well, it seems it’s all settled,’ Adam finished, staring gloomily into the fire.
After a small silence, Edwin said, ‘Father, there’s something I want to give you. I’ve had it for years.’ He reached into the pocket of his dinner jacket and removed a silk handkerchief. He handed it to Adam, who took it absently.
As his father unwrapped the object in it, Edwin went on, ‘I found it years ago. Now I’d like you to have it. I know you painted it, and also that it bears a striking likeness to Aunt Olivia.’
Adam was staring at the round pebble in the silk handkerchief, his eyes resting on that sweet face. The oils were remarkably well preserved. He smoothed one finger over it. ‘Did you varnish this again, Edwin?’
‘Indeed I did, Father. To protect the paint.’
Adam continued to gaze at the pebble, faded memories returning. He had painted this stone when he had been seventeen or thereabouts. The decades dropped away. He saw her standing under the crags at the Top of the World, her dark hair blowing in the breeze, her eyes as blue as speedwells and radiant with light, and he heard her voice echoing faintly across the years. ‘Adam, I’m going to have a baby.’
Edwin was looking up at his father, puzzled by the expression on his face. ‘It is Aunt Olivia, isn’t it?’ he said insistently, shattering Adam’s memories.
Adam did not respond. He smiled, remembering. But then he had never really forgotten. He wrapped the stone in the handkerchief, almost with tenderness. He returned it to Edwin. ‘You keep it, my boy. You found it. I want you to have it. One day I will tell you the story behind that stone, but not now. This is not the time.’ He flashed Edwin a curious look. ‘I presume you came across it in that old cave up on the moors by Ramsden Crags.’
Edwin was watching his father intently. ‘Yes, I did.’ He swallowed and said, ‘There’s something else, Father. Something I have wanted to tell you for years. Unfortunately my courage has always failed me. It’s been on my conscience for so long. I must unburden myself to you before I go off to war.’
Adam sat down in the wing chair, nursing his drink. ‘Then unburden yourself, Edwin,’ he said gently. ‘Perhaps you will feel easier after you have spoken to me. Certainly I shall give you all of my understanding.’
‘Well, you see, it was like this,’ Edwin began nervously. ‘Oh God, I need another drink,’ he cried, and leapt up, hurrying across the room.
He not only resembles me in appearance but in every other way as well, Adam said to himself, staring after Edwin. He lit a cigarette and leaned back in the chair, waiting. He’s going to tell me about Emma Harte and the child, Adam thought, and his heart went out to his son.
Lord Kitchener had been appointed Secretary of State for War and had raised an army of one hundred thousand volunteers with his first appeal. Winston Churchill already had the Fleet on standby and between August 6 and August 20 the first four divisions of the British Expeditionary Force had crossed the Channel and the fifth and sixth divisions followed early in September. Not a ship was sunk, not a life was lost, and it was a triumph for Churchill, militant trustee of the British Royal Navy. The rest of Great Britain mobilized for war with ferocious speed and not one of its citizens was unaffected as the grim days rolled by.
The guns of August roared on through September, October, November, and December of 1914, and into 1915. They wrought slaughter, ruin, and misery. Hundreds of thousands of young men, the hope of a new generation, were felled on the bloody battlefields of France and Belgium.
The stakes were terrifying to the British and their allies: annihilation or survival. They understood this was not a war for the possession of a fortress or a country, but for the inalienable right of any nation to live and develop as it wished.
Like