Hope - Lesley Pearse [183]
For months now the newspapers had been getting themselves into a stewabout the trouble between the Turks and the Russians. As far as Hope could understand, it had all started in Bethlehem, over a church which had been built on the site where Jesus was born. The Catholics and the Russian Orthodox clerics had both laid claim to it, and then the Turks, who had been rowing with Russia for years, joined in.
Even before Bennett came home in January there was talk of England and France supporting Turkey if there was a war. England didn’t want Russia gaining control over the Black Sea as it was an important trade route. But overall there was a general opinion that Russia was overdue for a good thrashing, and no one seemed to knowor care what it would be for.
During their honeymoon, Bennett had said the Rifle Brigade might very well be sent out East, and him with it. But he certainly hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly. They had barely got back to Winchester when he got his orders that his regiment would be sailing from Portsmouth within a few days.
‘Do you think there really will be a war?’ Hope asked. She was too excited to be worried. Before her honeymoon all she’d known was Bristol, and the only sea she’d ever seen was the Bristol Channel. It seemed incredible that she was now on the steamship Vulcan, along with some 800 men under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Lawrence, going down the coast of France and Spain, and then round into the Mediterranean.
‘I sincerely hope it can be averted.’ Bennett frowned with anxiety. ‘It’s forty years since Waterloo, and with the Duke of Wellington dead, I don’t think the unblooded officers who’ll be running this show will have any idea of strategy, or even what it takes to fight a war. The men of the Rifle Brigade are more than competent, crack shots every one, and they’ve had the Kaffir war to sharpen them up. But with aristocratic buffoons like Lord Cardigan and Lord Lucan—’ He broke off abruptly, perhaps feeling it was bad form to denounce cavalry officers.
Hope knew exactly what he was referring to. Lord Cardigan was never out of the newspapers. He was generally thought to be the most arrogant officer in England, and the most stupid. He’d been taken to task for fighting a duel, flogging his men and victimizing other officers, but because of who he was, he’d managed to escape punishment. Lord Lucan was his brother-in-law, a man with so little feeling for humanity that he’d closed down the workhouse in Castlebar in Ireland during the famine to save feeding the poor wretches who had now here else to turn. As the two men hated each other too, it didn’t bode well for the men who would be serving under them.
‘But the men in Winchester were all so wild for a fight,’ Hope said, remembering the excitement in the air at the barracks. She was a complete novice to military life, but she’d been thrilled watching a parade of the Rifles. Their dark green uniforms with black ornamentation had been so smart, their well-polished boots and rifle barrels gleaming in the weak sunshine. All in perfect step, marching proudly to the band, they looked formidable.
‘Maybe,’ Bennett retorted.
‘What is it?’ she asked, aware that when he pursed his lips the way he was doing now, he had something more on his mind.
‘Their wives and children,’ he said tersely. ‘Did you know, Hope, that no provision is made for them while their husbands are away on campaign? That raggle-tailed bunch that ran after the battalion in Portsmouth, trying to keep up to have one last word or kiss from their men before they embarked, will be destitute in a day or two.’
‘But that’s terrible!’ Hope exclaimed.
Bennett nodded. ‘They will have to turn to the parish for sustenance, but as many of those wives are Canadian, they’ll even be denied the small comfort they’d get there, for as you know, you can only receive relief from the parish in which you were born.’
‘You mean they’ll starve?’ Hope exclaimed in horror.
‘Yes, unless they have relatives to turn to,