Andrew Wareham Read online

  “But, George was educated at Harrow! The best education that can be obtained, except for the swots at Winchester.”

  “Exactly so, sir!”

  “You have been reading books, again, my dear. These pernicious, modern ideas are not safe for women, you know!”

  “That, sir, is as may be, but I am very glad that you agreed with me that Grace - and poor, dear Lavinia – should not be subjected to the tyranny of the girls’ boarding school. Both are at least able to be their own selves, not having been forced into the compliant mode demanded of other poor victims of the schools.”

  “I do not know why you must always be so deprecating of Lavinia, my dear. She is a pretty girl and has more than one suitor already!”

  “She is fit only to be the lady of a country house, with servants to do all of her work. She is, as you say, pretty – and that is all she is! Grace is far the more intelligent, and is more sensible, too!”

  Squire was not at all certain that women had any business being intelligent, and they had no need to be sensible; their husbands could provide all of the sense their family needed.

  “Even so, ma’am, Grace is not yet sixteen years of age!”

  “Yes, indeed, sir. I would not wish to see her married before seventeen – as I was.”

  Seventeen was a normal age for marriage among the girls of the County, and they were on the shelf at twenty, forced to consider the pretensions of mere farmers and other outsiders.

  “Quite right… although, if she insists, and if Tommy is willing, then one could allow her to go to a husband a few months earlier.”

  “Tommy will be willing enough, sir, although he may not be aware of the fact yet. She is his ‘Monkey’, and I believe she always will be.”

  “Well, he is not especially rich, but he will be comfortable enough. Respectable, as well, for he must achieve some promotions in the Army – in his ‘Corps’ as it seems to be known. Fifteen or twenty years will see him as a major, and then he can send in his papers and take a respectable place in the County. He could become Chief Constable, perhaps, or accept a position on the Hospital Boards; he might choose to take a seat in the House of Commons and become a Minister of the Crown before he was fifty. A desirable husband for the family, I am sure.”

  His lady agreed; the young gentleman was as good as they could hope for in the husband of a second daughter, and far better than most. Poor Lavinia, for example, had her suitors, but they were both young squirelings who would inherit and become no more than holders of their lands – a thoroughly undistinguished pair, but as much as one could expect. She had ambitions for Grace, however; it might perhaps be wise to take a little more care to make the dear girl aware of just how high her husband might rise in the world, with a modicum of guidance from his wife.

  The coroner held his brief inquest a week later, sitting in the largest hangar at Brooklands, in accordance with the tradition that the hearing must take place as close as possible to the scene of death. A few newspaper reporters attended and recorded his grave words relating to the dangers of flying and the sacrifices made by brave men in the cause of progress; they enquired whether there had been photographs taken of the crash, were disappointed to discover none – their readers much appreciated second-hand gore.

  The finding of accidental death completed the legal formalities and it became possible to apply for probate, in this case no more than a matter of paying a fee and recording the transfer of stewardship of the entailed lands and paying estate duty on the real property known to have been transferred to Tommy.

  “A matter of some two percent of the value to be paid, Mr Stark. The entailed property was taxed when it came to your father’s hands and will not be taxed again, under current legislation. Not especially significant, as yet, sir. But Inheritance Tax will be enormous one day – the Welsh demon, Lloyd George, will find some excuse for attacking the landed interest, sir!”

  For the while the tax seemed trivial to Tommy, and he could not imagine that the privileged life of the Edwardian gentleman could ever change. To him, the world seemed quite perfectly arranged as it was. He smiled at Mr Knatchbull and nodded his assent to all that needed be done.

  Tommy left the inquest and sought out Mr Sopwith.

  “Probate is to be sought immediately, sir. The workshop and hangar are mine and I am now, my lawyer assures me, in a position to invite offers to purchase. I would, if at all possible, sir, like to sell the workshop as a going concern, keeping Mr Bolton and Mr Edwards in their jobs.”

  Mr Sopwith agreed that would be fair to the two men.

  “Useful to us all, as well, Tommy. They are skilled men and have a knowledge of aeroplanes that few other mechanics will possess, outside of the RFC perhaps. There has been talk of forming a syndicate to make the purchase, perhaps to take out a loan which they will pay off over a year or two. I doubt that any large sum could be put together, however.”

  “Put the name of Joseph Stark on the hangar, sir, and we shall not be too concerned about payment. I believe that a sum of money must change hands in order to avoid difficulties relating to gifts and the actual ownership of the real estate, but a single sovereign will suffice for that purpose. My concern is that the wages of the two mechanics shall be paid.”

  “That is good of you! I will guarantee them personally, for a twelvemonth, Tommy.”

  “Well and good, sir. May I leave the details in your hands, sir?”

  “You may indeed, Tommy. May I ask whether your brother has arrived yet?”

  Tommy tried to smile.

  “Mr Joseph Stark sent a reply to my lawyers, sir. Actually, the missive was written by his lawyer. He will arrive at his house on December Twentieth, and expects, I quote, ‘vacant possession’. Existing servants may remain, and should indeed be encouraged to stay in their places, such being far more convenient for him. He is a single man and will not keep the whole house open, but he will make all necessary decisions when he has inspected his property. I have transferred my personal effects to the Squire’s house and will be gone by the Nineteenth. I had expected to remain and offer Mr Stark a welcome. It is now clear that would not be an acceptable act. I definitely intend to seek a commission, sir, with the aim of becoming a pilot in the RFC, and the possibilities are being investigated for me now.”

  “A wise move, Tommy, one I much applaud. You have never learned the discipline that a school would have offered – the Army will do you good, I do not doubt. I shall have a word with de Havilland and he will lend his weight to whoever is organising things for you. It never hurts to have a friend in the service.”

  “Thank you, sir. I must see to selling the Lanchester – I do not need two cars.”

  Sopwith cocked his head, assumed the mien of the older, wiser man, rather than the colleague in flying.

  “Piece of advice, Tommy?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Sell the Sunbeam instead. Drive the Lanchester. I know it is a far bigger, more staid sort of vehicle, but it conveys a feeling of worth and solidity. The Sunbeam is the car of a wild, hot-blooded young care-for-nobody; the Lanchester says that here is a man of mature years, of gravitas. The driver of a Lanchester is a sober gentleman whose judgement may be trusted. Believe me, Tommy, the impression it conveys will be of use to you. As well, and practically, you can fit half of your mess into the Lanchester, while the Sunbeam will take one in front and at most a second curled up behind. Very few of your fellows will have a car and they will appreciate a man who can carry them around the countryside!”

  “I had not considered any of those points, sir. I like the car, but will not keep it if it goes against my own interests. How do I go about selling the Sunbeam?”

  “I know three of the motor-racing men here who will take it off your hands, Tommy, and pay a good price as well. Leave it with me.”

  The Squire had attended the inquest, as was only to be expected in his position, and was waiting for Tommy.

  “Dinner with us tonight, Tommy? Good. M
y brother James is visiting and will wish to speak with you.”

  Tommy had never met the colonel before, but he was sure that he would have recognised him in the street – he was very similar in appearance to his brother, merely slightly less bald and straighter in the back.

  “My commiserations, Mr Stark. A sad thing to see your father die in front of your eyes, sir!” The colonel thought that was quite enough said about personal, emotional matters – not the sort of thing an officer dabbled with – sentiment was for the womenfolk. “Now, you wish to become a pilot in the Flying Corps. A very sensible ambition for a man in your shoes, but requiring a little bending of the regulations in its achievement!”

  Tommy did not see why it should but said nothing.

  “Thing is, you see, the Central Flying School is for officers who intend to join the RFC, from their existing units. Mostly they will already have obtained a private pilot’s licence. But there is no provision for the entry of men who have a licence but are not already commissioned. There will be, one day, it is under active consideration. Just as soon as we go to war, then see how fast the rules will change!”

  “Are we to go to war, sir?”

  “Many of my colleagues, and even more of the politicians, will tell you no; others, myself included, see it as inevitable. Very simply, Mr Stark, Britain is allied to France and to Russia; Germany is linked with Austria-Hungary and Italy, although the Italians are at daggers-drawn with the Austro-Hungarian Empire and may not choose to honour their alliance. Be that as it may, the problem lies with France and Germany. France was crushed by Germany in 1870 and lost territory and now seeks revenge – revanche, they call it. The Germans point out, not unreasonably, that France has invaded across the Rhine countless times in the last five centuries and that they can hardly fairly claim revenge for being beaten in a war that they started.”

  “Then why do we get involved, sir?”

  “Because of Belgium, Mr Stark. When the country was created, seventy-five years ago, more or less, Britain passed an Act of Parliament guaranteeing Belgium’s neutrality, and there was another treaty at a later date as well. Should Belgium be attacked, then British law demands that we must declare war on the aggressor. Common sense as well says that we do not want a major military power sat on the Belgian coast and able to blockade the Thames Estuary. The experience of 1870 underlines that it will be simpler for Germany to attack France through the Flanders plains than by way of the hills of the Ardennes, or across the Rhine, and vice versa, so we are almost certain to be pulled into any future conflict.”

  “Then the RFC must expand, sir, both in machines and men. It would seem that I wish to join at the right time, for I cannot be left behind if my country is to go to war!”

  “You have the right spirit, young man! There will be a need for every aeroplane we can put into the air, to act as scouts for the army. There is talk as well of bombardment machines, to drop explosive bombs upon the enemy, though about that, I have my doubts. I believe that the air will be important, however, and some naval types agree with me. There is, of course, the matter of airships as well – but they will be wholly the concern of the navy, or so it is planned.”

  Tommy shook his head; he did not fancy naval flying, whatever form it might take.

  “I have to say that I do not much like the idea of flying over the sea as a habit, sir. With the best mechanics in the world, engines do fail occasionally, and I had far rather have the chance of gliding into a field than splashing into the water!”

  “I had far rather stay on the ground, young man, and that is exactly what I intend to do! But I agree with your opinion on that matter. Now, how to get you into the RFC – a matter of pulling the right strings. It has been done before and the blind eye will be turned while the correct pieces of paper have been filled in. You must have a commission, and you will not wish to wait for the next course to enter Sandhurst and go through that tedious process. So, you must join the Territorials as a Second Lieutenant – which is easily done. The Wessex Division will take you immediately.”

  “Tomorrow, sir?”

  “Next week. You will purchase your uniforms this week and then will be put into the care of one of their sergeants. The Territorials drill in the evenings and at weekends, in the nature of things – their men work all day and are soldiers occasionally in their free time. You, Mr Stark, will spend the weekdays in the Drill Hall, learning in the space of a fortnight how to look like a soldier. The intervening weekend will be devoted to the range where you will learn the rifle; you will not become an expert, but you will discover how to load and handle the three-oh-three. You can spend a while learning the pistol as well – how to load and hold it and at least point it in the right direction.”

  It sounded daunting, but he could survive a hard fortnight, or so he expected.

  “Yes, sir. What then?”

  “Then, Mr Stark, you will transfer to the Regulars – which is commonly possible for a Territorial officer where there is a vacancy in a battalion – as a full lieutenant; the normal is for new officers to enter from Sandhurst, but the college does not always produce enough officers to fill all of the vacancies in the battalions of the Line, and so a few transfers from the Territorials occur almost every year. You will be an officer of the Hampshires, but you will not actually see them, because you will immediately be posted to the next course at Upavon. That is why it must all be done in a fortnight, to meet the starting date of that course. You will be an officer, which is all that the paper-pushers will care for, and will make a sufficiency of an impression with the commanding officer, Captain Paine, RN, when your logbook is inspected and when you demonstrate that you can fly. If I may give the advice – do not swagger, sir! Modest self-effacement is to be encouraged.”

  Tommy was not quite sure what the colonel meant by swaggering, but he had not attended a public school, had not seen the rugger bullies cutting their swathe through the less fortunate mortals.

  “I am to be a full lieutenant, you say, sir?”

  “It is less common for an inexperienced officer to be transferred from the Territorials, so the record will be fudged just a little and your period as a Second Lieutenant will be remarkably short. While you make no comment upon the fact, it will not be noticed.”

  Junior subalterns did not argue with full colonels; Tommy smiled and made his thanks.

  “You have gone to some lengths to help me, sir. I must express my gratitude.”

  “Not at all, young man! I think we shall be at war within the year, and the more we have of experienced men in the air, the better for Old England. The old-fashioned believe that the horse will be more than sufficient for all of our scouting needs; they point to the Boer War as justification. They are, in my opinion, wholly wrong! They should be looking at the American Civil War, and the American war against Spain; in both the horse stood not a chance in set-piece battles, destroyed utterly by the Gatling Gun and its successors. The air is where reconnaissance will take place in the next war, of that I am quite convinced – but our cavalry generals will not hear a word of it!”

  “I had thought of the RFC as being the cavalry of the air, sir.”

  The colonel shook his head; he was cursed by the possession of an active brain, was as bright as his niece, Grace, and knew he would never reach the highest ranks as a result – he had thought carefully about the future, however.

  “No. The RFC will be the work-horses of the air, I fear. The cavalry officers seek glory first – they see their function as the charge. The RFC will exist to make observations and bring them home again – a very different set of priorities.”

  It did not matter to Tommy; while he could fly little else was of importance. It was not as if one could equip a machine with a sabre and go into battle against the foe! He had a sudden vision of Boadiceas of the air, aeroplanes charging forward, armed like Celtic chariots; then he realised that the cavalry had not in fact changed its habits since those days. His first laugh was quickly stilled.


  “Three weeks and I shall discover the reality, sir – thanks to you. If it does come to war, sir, then the Army will have to expand greatly, will it not? Do you expect the introduction of conscription, sir? I read recently that every man in Germany, and in France, I think, must serve his time with the Colours and may be called back to the ranks in time of emergency. Will that happen here?”

  Colonel and Squire together denied such a possibility.

  “We shall rely upon the volunteer, Tommy – I cannot imagine that the Army would have any value for men so dead to patriotism and duty that they must be forced to serve. What do you say, James?”

  “I wholly agree, brother! What use have we for men who must be brought by force to their duty?”

  Tommy was heartened to hear their opinion; he could not conceive that Englishmen could not flock to the call when the country was in peril and had no wish to fight at the side of the few shirkers there might be. He thanked the pair again and then excused himself to join the ladies, believing that the brothers would wish to be private together.

  “That is a good lad, Thomas! Is he your godson, by the way, sharing your name?”

  “Not as such, but I know his father named him for me. We were close friends at his age and became so again when he returned from Africa and later the States. Is war so very much a certainty, James?”

  The colonel refilled his port glass and prepared to hold forth.

  “Unavoidable! France and Russia together will make it so. Both are frightened of Germany and neither is prepared to talk, to negotiate with the Kaiser and press Britain to make concessions overseas. Were we, for example, to give Germany a free hand in the East, in China, Persia and perhaps Afghanistan, then the Kaiser might be content with overseas empire. But Britain really does not want Germany as a neighbour in India, and so we will give nothing except we are encouraged to by our allies. If Russia, for example, was to allow Britain to make investments in her iron and coal fields, and to build industries there, free from the constraints of Russian law and custom, then it might well be possible to give way to German wishes for Empire – the loss to us would be more than compensated. But the Tsar wants no perniciously democratic influences, or full bellies, to corrupt his peasantry – he would far rather the country remained poor and backward and obedient. America might be able to prevent war, but will not involve itself sufficiently with the old monarchies of Europe; they will not engage in the hard bargaining of European politics.”