Heart of War Read Free

thinking of Margaret, his wife, and wishing she was at his side … but Margaret had hidden herself in the back streets of Dublin, or in some cottage in the bogs, a gun always by her; and Sinn Fein, not her husband or children, was her only care now. Perhaps she did not even know that Stella was being married, though the announcement had been made in the Dublin papers as well as the
Times, Telegraph
and
Morning Post
. Turning his head, he caught sight of Willum Gorse, beaming in simple pleasure … but then Willum
was
simple. He was glad to see that Willum’s half-brother Bert Gorse hadn’t got a half-day off to attend. That swine had been agitating the men in the J.M.C. again – but now he’d got him. The conscription bill had been passed, making all unmarried men under forty liable to military service. Bert was thirty-five or thirty-six; and he was unmarried; and he, Richard Rowland, would make it his business to see that the responsible authorities were made aware of those two facts. He glanced at his wife, Susan, beside him. Tomorrow the chauffeur was going to drive her up to the orphanage in Camberwell to pick up the two children she was going to adopt … that
they
were going to adopt, he should say; but he found it hard to associate himself with the business. In seventeen years of marriage they had not produced any children of their own, and then, late last year, she had suddenly announced that as he had his factories for ‘children,’ she intended to adopt not one but two real ones. He should have gone with her on her two previous trips, to visit orphanages, and talk to governors – and children – but he had had no time. The affairs of the J.M.C. and the H.A.C. – both of which he managed, and both of which were ultimately owned by Johnny Merritt’sfather’s bank in New York – kept him more than busy. He should have made time. The children were going to be his, too, whether he liked it or not.
    He could hardly hear what old Kirby was saying, for now the distinctive sound of guns on the move was filling the church – the jingle and clink of the harness, the rumble of the gun and limber wheels on the gravelled road. A horse neighed, then someone shouted a series of unintelligible orders, and the hoofbeats quickened to a gallop, the rumbling and clanking grew louder, faster.
    I John take thee Stella to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish …
    Florinda Gorse listened idly. She had heard the words many times, for all her life she had been in demand as a bridesmaid at the village people’s weddings. Not of the gentry, of course … especially not now that everyone knew she was living with the old Marquess of Jarrow, as his mistress. But if Jarrow wasn’t having her on, and if the booze didn’t kill him first, she’d soon hear those words spoken about her … probably not in a church, though. The Marquess wasn’t much of a churchgoer, and she imagined that their marriage would be in a registry office, if it came off at all. She wouldn’t mind. There was a nice man inside that shrivelled and soden little shell, somewhere … or had been; but the brandy and whisky had long ago all but drowned him … Miss Stella had won a fine man, she could tell. Keeping the man and the marriage would be up to her; and Florinda doubted her strength of will. Oh, she had the good intentions, and the training, all right … but they weren’t much use when your husband had become boring, or neglectful, and another nice man was looking deep into your eyes, or when the bottle in the cupboard seemed to be offering help … excitement. That was what Miss Stella wanted most, that was the danger. She looked nice in her light brown wool dress. She would have looked better still in her V.A.D. uniform, but she’d left them a