Chapter 12: WarrickThomas still hadn’t come to grips with the loss of his eye and the patch he wore to conceal the damage done. He’d stand by the window in his bedroom looking out or go for long rides on Ivanhoe, who was Galahad’s son, but he never once turned to me for solace, and I was hurt. Cutter was gone, after all, and I—his best friend—was right there.
“Thomas—the weather is fair. Come for a walk with me.”
“So everyone can look on the poor blind soldier with pity?”
“Don’t be an arse. You’re not blind—you’ve only lost sight in the one eye. Everyone looks on you with a high degree of respect. You’re a decorated officer.”
“Who no longer has a command or a—” He bit back the words, but I knew what he’d been about to say: a lover.
“I think you need to take a lover.”
“Who’d want me like this?” he demanded and gestured toward his scarred face with its missing eye.
Before I could tell him “Me. I would,” Wolcott knocked on the door.
“Pardon me, Captain Thomas. A gentleman is here to see you. He asked me to give you this.” Wolcott handed him a calling card.
“Colonel Wolfram? Yes, of course, I’ll see him.”
“Who’s he?” I resented the fact he’d interrupted my chance at loving Thomas once again.
“He’s…he was my commanding officer.” He turned to Wolcott. “Where is he?”
“In Sir Bertie’s study. I’ll bring a tray of refreshments, if you’d like?”
“Yes…yes, that would be a good idea. Thank you.” And he hurried out of the room, not even giving me a smile or a pat on the arm.
Wolcott left right behind him, and I found myself alone in that room.
I paced restlessly for half an hour, then went in search of Thomas. Surely his former commanding officer had simply stopped by to see how he was getting along and was gone by now.
A soldier stood at rest beside the door to the study. He snapped to attention and saluted. “Beg pardon, sir,” he said when he saw I was about to enter. “The colonel don’t wish to be disturbed.”
I’d been in the army long enough to know not to question that tone of voice. I turned on my heel and walked out of the house. As I’d told Thomas, the weather was fair. I’d take out Monte, who Bertie had been so kind as to have stabled at Greenbriers. Many of the younger stock had been taken for the War, and it wasn’t likely they’d be returned. Because Monte was getting long in the tooth, he’d been left behind, and I was grateful for that. And in spite of his advancing age, he was still up for a gentle ride.
I rode to Thorny Walk and visited the tenants. I was saddened to learn we’d lost a few due to the Spanish Influenza.
However, I was relieved to discover the Buttericks were hale and hearty. Annabel, Meggie’s baby was now a plump, happy little lass. I couldn’t help noticing she wore the silver chain and cross I’d given her mother years ago. Alfie was proud of her and played with her as best he could with broken ribs and a broken arm that were slowly healing. After having got through the worst of the fighting without a scratch, he’d been injured in the last days of the war. A Yank, celebrating the anticipated Armistice a bit too enthusiastically, had run him down. Now Alfie was at home convalescing, his wife and little girl making a fuss over him. And Meggie was expecting again.
I rested a hand on Alfie’s shoulder. “Your place at Thorny Walk will be there for you when you’ve mended enough to return to work.”
“Thankee, sir, but…Will Sir John have me back?”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
He shrugged.
“Alfie.”
“That man Sir John’s got running things seems set on doing them his own way.”
It made sense that with both Father and John in Town, someone would be needed to oversee Thorny Walk.
“What man?”
“Mr Morgan.”
“I don’t know the name.”
He shrugged again. “Mr John suggested him for the job.”
“I’ll talk to Morgan.” I said goodbye to the little family, caught up Monte’s reins, and went in search of this Morgan.
I found him at the home farm.
“I’m Warrick Synclaire.”
“You don’t look much like your father or brother.”
“Indeed.” I gave him the cold look I’d perfected in the years away from home, and he quickly apologised.
“I was just saying. What can I do for you, sir?”
“When Alfie Butterick is well enough to return to work, you’ll give him his position back.”
“As what?”
“Groom.”
“We’ve got a groom.”
“We’ll have one more.”
“Come now, sir. We don’t have as many horses, thanks to the army, and the ones we do have are almost ready to be put down. We don’t need another groom.”
“Nevertheless, Alfie has worked for us since he was a lad. His family has been on this land for generations. Now he’s been wounded in service to his country, and you’ll personally see he has his position back.”
“I’ll need to talk to Mr Synclaire about that, seeing as he’s the one who hired me.”
I gritted my teeth. I was just the third son, with no right to order about any of the employees on my father’s land. I’d have to talk to John myself.
“Very well.” I stepped into the stirrup of Monte’s saddle and swung my leg over his back.
I needed a drink. I headed Monte toward Upper Flossmere and the Whistling Gypsy pub.
* * * *
It was late by the time I handed Monte’s reins over to the groom at Greenbriers.
I staggered a bit—all that alcohol and no food—but made my way fairly steadily into Fortescue Manor. There was no one to take note of my sotted condition, and I climbed the stairs to my bedroom. Once there, I tumbled onto the bed without bothering to undress.
* * * *
That night, for the second time, I dreamt of wolves and fog and debasement, and I woke enough to vomit into the chamber pot I pulled out from under the bed in the nick of time.
* * * *
The next morning, I woke feeling horrendous. I wouldn’t have been surprised if my head exploded. My stomach roiled, and my mouth tasted vile. I stripped off the clothes I’d worn the day before, had a quick wash, and used tooth powder to freshen my breath.
Tidy to the best degree I could hope for, I went down to the breakfast parlour, startled to see Thomas there. Since he’d returned home, he’d preferred to break his fast in his room.
“Good morning, Thorn.”
“Good morning,” I mumbled and poured myself a cup of tea. I’d have preferred a hair of the dog, but I didn’t want Thomas to see me like that. “So…er…what did your colonel have to say?”
“Nothing of much import.”
“You were in there with him for quite some time.”
He shrugged.
“Thomas. Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” He rose and walked out of the room.
The tea I’d just swallowed settled like a stone in my stomach. I felt more shunted aside than ever.
I learned later that Thomas had refused to speak to anyone in the household of the outcome of that meeting.
However, he did say he planned to travel, using the excuse of coming to terms with the loss of his eye, and later that week, he kissed his mother goodbye, shook my hand—not a hug nor a peck on the cheek—and left the country.
* * * *
I seemed to be struck by one loss after another. First Father deciding he’d need to find rooms in London in order to continue working for the government.
Then his decision to w***e out Thorny Walk House by turning it into a retreat for political bigwigs. As a result, Thorny Walk was no longer home, not for now.
Father was the head of the family, however, and I had no say in the matter, so I had best stop acting like a sulky boy. I determined to help where I could. I needed to speak to him at any rate about Alfie Butterick’s position at Thorny Walk.
Lady Eugenia was so kind as to permit me the use of Townsend, her chauffeur, and the Rolls Royce Silver Ghost, and he drove me to Town.
Father wasn’t in his rooms, so I had Townsend drive me to my half-brother’s digs.
“You’re the last person I expected to see in London,” he said. “I thought you were still playing nursemaid to the Smythe whelp.”
“Why did you never like Thomas?”
“You were too bloody close.”
“I imagine you heard that from Harry?”
He seemed surprised I didn’t deny it.
“Well, it hardly matters now. I’d like to speak with Father. Can you tell me where I can find him?”
“He’s at his club.”
“He’s got a club?”
“White’s.” John shook his head and muttered i***t.
I pretended not to hear.
“Was there anything else you wanted? Because if not, I’ve an important engagement.”
“Just one thing. What do you know of this Morgan fellow who’s overseeing Thorny Walk?”
“He worked for a friend of mine.”
“Was he given a reference?”
“Do you honestly think I’d have brought someone to Father’s notice if he wasn’t?” He gave me an impatient look. “I talked this over with Father, and he had no objections. Now I really must go.”
“Of course. Good day, John.” I walked out, my gait stiff with outrage, and got into the Silver Ghost.
“Where to, sir?”
“White’s. It’s on—”
“St James’s Street. Yes, I know.”
It didn’t take long to arrive at White’s. I climbed the steps, opened the door, and entered the foyer.
“I’m Warrick Synclaire,” I told the man who stood there. “I understand my father, Sir John Synclaire, is here?”
“Yes, sir. One moment, please.” He went off to notify my father, and true to his word, he returned shortly. “If you’ll sign the book, sir?”
I signed, just as Father came striding up.
“Thank you, Hughes,” he tossed over his shoulder.
Hughes nodded and took up his position at the door again.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” Father said to me.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I needed to talk with you.”
“Very well. Come this way.”
I followed him into the room used by members for non-members.
“Would you care for a Sherry?”
I’d have preferred a whisky, but I would take what I could get. “Yes, please. That would be fine.”
He signalled a waiter, gave the man his order, and then gestured toward a pair of armchairs.
“Now then. What was it you wanted?”
“First, permit me to express my gratitude to you for obtaining this leave for me.”
He looked startled. Didn’t he expect a word of thanks?
“You’re welcome. I trust young Smythe is doing well?”
I shrugged. “As well as can be expected. He still hasn’t come to terms with the loss, so he’s decided to do some travelling.”
“Hmm”
I decided to turn the conversation back to my reason for coming to see him. “I spoke with Morgan the other day.”
“Why?” His tone was chill.
“I promised Alfie Butterick his job once he was done convalescing. Morgan seemed reluctant to hold it for him.”
Father sighed. “I don’t know that Thorny Walk has the need for two grooms.”
“What are you saying, sir?”
“Some of our young stock was taken for the War—”
I recalled Morgan saying as much. “But surely you’ll replace them?”
“For what purpose? I’m about ready to give up fox-hunting. As for your brother, it’s been more convenient for him to stable his horse here in Town.”
“Alfie’s family have worked for Synclaires for generations. He’s got a family. Do you plan to turn him out?”
“Keep your voice down, young man. Thorny Walk belongs to me, and I’ll make the final decision.”
The waiter brought our Sherries, and I took an incautious swallow.
“Really, Warrick. This vintage is to be savoured.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“Was there anything else you wished to talk to me about?”
“Yes. As you know, I’m staying at Fortescue Manor just now, and I’m rather at a loose end, since I have a few days before my leave is over and I must return to Paris. I propose to ride over to Thorny Walk. I can deal with everything you feel needs to be done before you have the first tenants in.” The house would have to be aired, the covers removed, and the family treasures locked away in the priest’s hole.
“That’s quite all right, but it’s not necessary.”
“But—”
“There’s no need to put yourself out. John will take care of it.”
“I see. Yes, of course.” I set down the Sherry. “In that case, I’d best return to Greenbriers.”
“Lady Eugenia always had a fondness for you.” He muttered something that sounded like interfering woman.
Was my expression as tired as it felt? “She’s been very kind.”
“Humph. How long do you plan to stay with her?”
“Not much longer, now.”
“What will you do once you’re demobilised? As I said, John will deal with Thorny Walk.”
“I’ll do some travelling.” With Thomas away and Father having no use for my services, there would be nothing for me in the land of my birth. “Goodbye, sir. Give John my…er…best.” I rose and offered him my hand.
Did he look regretful? No, I was certain I had that wrong.
I turned and walked out.
* * * *
Lady Eugenia was kind, as always. “You know you’re welcome to stay for as long as you choose,” she was at pains to tell me. She’d also been kind enough to assure me she’d find a place for Alfie, having him trained up as a mechanic when I’d mentioned he’d always been fixing things at Thorny Walk.
“I know, and thank you, but it’s time for me to report back.”
“Take care, Warrick.” She embraced me, her light floral scent enveloping me. “And if you ever need a refuge, please be assured you have one here.”
What an odd way to phrase it. I kissed her cheek, waited while Wolcott put my kitbag in the car, and then got in myself. The Silver Ghost was very well sprung, and I had no problem with travel sickness.
Townsend drove me to the local train station, the same station that had started my journey to Canada eleven years before. Once the train arrived in Dover, it was simply a matter of crossing the Channel and then taking another train to Paris.
* * * *
When I was finally demobilised in early spring of 1919, I decided to take a page from Thomas’s book. I caught the first ship sailing anywhere and set out to see the world.