Daniel came over and clasped Hugh’s hand. “Thank you, Cousin,” he said. “Your permanent frown always brings me to my senses.”
“I do not have a permanent frown,” said Hugh. He took a brief look into the pier glass over the mantel and consciously adjusted his features to a half smile, smoothing out the deep lines between his eyes. He adjusted his cap a little higher under his arm. “Or at least I would not have such a frown were you to cause me less concern.”
“I can manage my own affairs, you know,” said Daniel, a note of schoolboy petulance in his tone.
“You came to the railway station this morning with no money,” said Hugh.
“Very good of you to advance me the ticket,” said Daniel. “I don’t think we would have gained seats at all if you were not on orders.”
“Let’s hope you are allowed to travel home,” said Hugh. “Troop priority seems to have overwhelmed the railways.”
“I remember now I was using some notes as bookmarks. Think I rushed out and left all my money tucked into my Longfellow.” Daniel’s humor seemed to improve in consideration of his own foolishness. “All poets should be assigned a Hugh to watch over them.”
“Thank you,” said Hugh, turning his head to the sound of footsteps in the hall. “I’ve always wanted to be a valet.”
The door to the room swung open, pushed by a footman, and Craigmore advanced with an air of stiff dignity, an ambassador asked to receive a party of minor colonial dignitaries. With chin high and lips pursed, his stiff demeanor was accented by the thick wool of a dull blue uniform so new even the elbows had not creased. He wore polished boots, walking slowly as if they pinched in several places, and carried a blue cap with shiny black brim under his arm. In only two days, his upper lip had acquired the solid underpinnings of a blunt moustache, and only his golden hair, trimmed short but still insistent on its curl, disturbed his military air.
“Oh my God, are you playing in H.M.S. Pinafore?” Daniel asked with a laugh. His face was wreathed in smiles, and his anxiety seemed to have evaporated now his friend was in the room. “What have they done to you?”
“Hugh, Daniel, good of you both to come,” said Craigmore. “I’m afraid I don’t have much time. My mother is giving a luncheon.” He shook hands with Hugh and then with Daniel, who grasped his hand with two hands.
“I am beyond measure glad to see you,” said Daniel.
Craigmore withdrew his hand gently and placed it behind his back. His cheeks reddened and he rocked slightly on his heels, as if considering his next words with care. As he spoke, he waved to the settees, and Hugh followed his lead and sat down. Daniel remained standing.
“I wanted to apologize for the hurried nature of our departure from Sussex,” said Craigmore. “It was unpardonably rude, and yet we had not a moment to write. We had an early-morning telegram, and my mother and I simply dashed for the train.”
“We were glad to hear from Lady Emily that no tragedy had occurred,” said Hugh, offering it somewhere between a statement and a question.
“No, rather an opportunity to be seized,” said Craigmore slowly. “An old friend of my father’s offered to provide me an advantage, but he was only in London briefly so we were forced to hurry to town.”
“Not a word to your friends?” asked Daniel. He stood behind Hugh, and Hugh could sense that he was gripping the wooden frame of the settee.
“I confess,” said Craigmore, “that even had I a moment I would not have known what to write.” He took a slow breath and looked Daniel directly in the face. “My good fortune was to overturn all our deepest held ambitions, my friend, and I could not, in all honor, convey such news in a letter.”
“It appears you have secured a military commission?” said Hugh, moving cautiously to the obvious and hoping his tone would prevent any violent outburst from Daniel, who let go the settee and came to slump beside him. He did not want to look at his cousin’s face. He and Craigmore talked as if Daniel were not in the room.
“I knew you had joined the Medical Corps, of course,” said Craigmore to Hugh. “Are you already on orders?”
“Six weeks or so of training,” said Hugh. “Mostly the military aspects. They’ve rushed us through our final exams already.”
“Royal Flying Corps,” said Craigmore. “Uniform is still a bit up in the air—if you’ll excuse the pun. Of course we’ll have more suitable flying gear for daily use. Leathers and so forth. I’m off to Burberry’s later today to get a greatcoat, and they do a very good aviator helmet with goggles, the best hand-ground lenses.”
“I didn’t know you flew,” said Hugh.
“Yes, been doing a bit this last year. Took Daniel up a couple of times over Florence this summer,” said Craigmore. “Damned good fun. Dozens of chaps looking for commissions, of course, so when my father arranged for me to meet the Commodore—well, I can tell you I had no interest in enlisting in an ordinary war, but the Flying Corps—this is the newest thing.” He reddened some more and added, “Damned good fun!”
“What about art?” asked Daniel, his voice low and miserable.
“I was never as good a painter as Daniel thought,” said Craigmore, still talking to Hugh. “I knew it even if he didn’t.” He fidgeted up from the settee and went to put his boot on the fireplace fender, one arm on the mantel. “I was always going to be the one tolerated for his money and connections.”
“I never thought of you that way,” said Daniel quietly.
“I know that, I know,” said Craigmore hurriedly, risking a quick glance in his direction. “I accuse you only of being perhaps blinded by—by friendship.”
“And what of such a friendship?” asked Daniel. “Is it to be tossed aside as a casual convenience?”
“My father says the time calls for men, not for sensitive boys,” said Craigmore. “Many friendships will be changed by the events of the coming days.”
“Since when have we listened to our fathers?” asked Daniel. “Do we not share the deepest aversion to their calculated hypocrisies?”
“Café chatter and schoolboy manifestos,” said Craigmore. “It is time we grew up, Daniel.”
“I grew up this summer,” said Daniel. “I found my life’s true compass. Unfortunately, it seems it is broken. I must spin in place.”
“Always with a simile or a metaphor in the face of hard truths,” said Craigmore. “We have no claim upon each other, Daniel. I made no contract. I breach no promise that would stand in the light of public gaze.”
“We needed no promises,” said Daniel.
“I have committed to serve my country in its time of need,” said Craigmore. “One cannot argue with patriotism.”
“What rot,” said Daniel, his voice bitter. “Your father has purchased you the opportunity to fly expensive aeroplanes and drink good wine in the mess with other men of breeding, and be admired in parades with your silver braid and your polished boots. It is theater of the most amateur kind. No doubt you will be in all the cheapest illustrated papers.”
“I think there is no more to be said.” Craigmore drew himself up into as stiff a column as he could, and Hugh saw him clamp his teeth down on a small quiver of the jaw. “I hope to remain friends. If you can recover from today’s emotion and be civil, I would be glad to receive your correspondence.”
“Where shall we find you?” asked Hugh, rising. He felt a protective need to remove Daniel before his cousin destroyed his friendship entirely.
“As soon as I have a military address I will forward it to you.” There was the sound of voices in the hall and a woman’s laugh. “If you will excuse me, our luncheon guests are arriving.”