I LOVED HER FIRST
Chapter 13 Lion Heart
"I am bored to sobs, Mr. Carson!" Miss Mary made this announcement with considerable gravity, employing a turn of phrase she had picked up from her father.
It was early afternoon, that fragment of the day when there was something of a lull in the tempo of activity downstairs and he could, if he wanted to, allow for a distraction. She knew it well and had taken to putting in an appearance whenever her governess's back was turned.
Fraulein Kelder. Mr. Carson did not understand the propensity of the landed class for German governesses. Were there no impoverished genteel English women who might serve in this position? He suspected this was the lingering influence of His Lordship's father, who had been a bit of a Germanophile. Perhaps the current Lord Grantham and his American wife dared not abandon the practice out of reverence for him, God rest his soul.
Even as she uttered the words, Miss Mary flung herself into the visitor's chair opposite him in the manner of someone faint of heart collapsing in the face of a fright. Then, almost immediately, and before he could even open his mouth, she sat up abruptly and assumed that formal posture more becoming of a young lady of her class and which her governess, and nanny before her, had drilled into her. Mr. Carson breathed a sigh of relief. He did not want to be responsible for her social graces, though he was proud of her self-awareness. Miss Mary already had a strong sense of her rank in life though she was just ten years old.
"Fraulein Kelder told me I must learn all the kings and queens of England. Can you think of anything more dull? Who cares!"
She really ought to have known by this point that he would, and perhaps she did and this was why she was here.
"You should," he said with conviction.
"Why?"
He had discovered that Miss Mary was not so adverse to learning her lessons as her governess, and sometimes her parents, believed, but only wanted a meaningful rationale to do so. To be told to do something went against the grain with her. But take her seriously, explain the reasons behind a request, and the battle was as good as won.
"They're part of who you are," he responded forcefully.
She frowned. "Like my family?"
He liked that she asked questions and made connections. But then, she was a bright little girl. "Not quite. The Crawleys are of noble blood, to be sure, but not royal blood. Still, they have been closely associated. The Crawley family has served England's kings - and queens - since before the Reformation." Mr. Carson announced this fact with all the pride of one of those directly concerned, for he believed himself as intimately bound to the Crawley family as the Crawleys were to the monarch.
She was captivated by what he said. "Served? Do you mean as footmen and maids?" She was half-shocked, half-delighted by the picture this made in her head. "Granny? - a maid!"
He smiled at her. "Not exactly. Lords- and ladies-in-waiting, sometimes," he said. "Kings and queens must have attendants and their attendants must be from the upper classes. Your grandfather was a member of the house of Prince Alfred, the Duke of Edinburgh. And, of course, the Crawley men have served with distinction in the King's army for centuries."
"Like Papa. In South Africa." She nodded sagely. Miss Mary was still learning the intricate rules of etiquette, including how to refer to her immediate family with the staff, and was still inclined to speak of Mama and Papa where she should have said Her Ladyship and His Lordship. It was an oversight Mr. Carson felt it still possible to overlook.
They had talked about South Africa many times and occasionally traced the progress of Captain Robert Crawley's regiment across the pink-shaded territory of the Cape and Natal colonies and into the Boer republics of the Orange Free State and the Transvaal.
Her eyes had strayed to the newspaper lying folded to one side on his desk. "Is there any news of Papa?"
He received her query as a matter of course. They talked about the war every time she visited him. "Lord Roberts's forces - including His Lordship's regiment - have had another victory at..." he consulted the paper, "... Belfast."
Confusion descended upon her. "Belfast? Isn't that in Ireland?"
"Apparently there's one in the Transvaal, too. There's only one way to find out." He set the paper down again and gave her a knowing look.
With a smile, Miss Mary slid from her chair and went to the shelf where he kept the atlas. By the time she returned to the desk, he had cleared a space for the large book. It opened readily to the page that depicted the southern half of the African continent. Miss Mary knew the geography of the area well, a fact that gave Mr. Carson hope in the matter of British monarchs. She had only to be interested in something, and then would readily absorb anything there was to know about it. She had once asked him why King Leopold had his own personal colony in the form of the Belgian Congo and Queen Victoria, who was a much more powerful monarch, could not say the same. He had not been able to answer the question.
She ran an index finger over the critical place names of the recent conflict. "Ladysmith. Mafeking." Saying that name gave her particular pleasure. "Kimberley and the diamond mines." Her eyes darted up to his. "I still don't see how something as pretty as Mama's diamonds came from a dark hole in the ground, Mr. Carson."
"Even precious stones and metals need some refinement, Miss Mary, just as daughters of noble families such as your own require a little tutoring to become ladies." He smiled at his own cleverness with that, but Miss Mary was not impressed, rolling her eyes instead. Shaking her head at him, she returned to an examination of the map.
"Why is it taking so long to win the war, Mr. Carson? Don't we have the finest army in the world?"
There was another one of those challenging questions and one for which he had no easy answer. And he was not alone. As letters and editorials in the papers indicated, many in Britain wondered the same thing.
"It is a puzzlement," he said slowly. "We captured the capital of the Orange Free State in March..."
"Bloemfontein," Miss Mary said, with some satisfaction, stabbing at the appropriate spot on the map. "What a pretty name."
Mr. Carson did not think so, but he chose not to challenge her. "And Pretoria, in the Transvaal fell early in June."
"That's where Papa's been," she said excitedly. "Mama's had letters from there!"
"Yes. By all rights, they ought to have capitulated with those losses." Mr. Carson was aggrieved on this point. Fair was fair. The Boers had been beaten decisively in the field and ought to have taken their lumps. Instead they had retreated through the mountains onto the highveldt and resorted to what was called guerrilla warfare, causing endless headaches for the British war effort and keeping Robert Crawley and others from coming home to their families.
"Why?"
He was startled by Miss Mary's query and looked up to find her staring at him with a thoughtful expression on her face.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Why should they give up just because their capitals have fallen?"
For a moment he could only gape at her. It seemed to him that that answer, at least, was self-evident. "The capital is where the government is situated," he said finally. "You cannot run your country out of your hat. When you've lost your capital, the game is up. You surrender."
She stared at him so long that he felt discomfited. Did she not understand what that meant?
"If France invaded England and captured London, I shouldn't give up, Mr. Carson. I would rally all of Yorkshire and fight on!" She spoke boldly, her eyes flashing and her delicate jaw set with determination. "Wouldn't you?"
In the face of her call to arms he was momentarily speechless. And then a wave of patriotism swept over him and he declared, "I would!" It occurred to him that he would follow her anywhere.
"When will Papa come home, Mr. Carson?" There was a wistful note in her voice.
"I don't know," he said, unable to be anything but honest. "When he has settled the Queen's business to her satisfaction."
She mouthed after him the words 'the Queen's business' and then sighed.
He felt her discouragement. "It is all part of the larger world of our country, Miss Mary, in which one day you shall be called upon to play your part."
She deflated a bit at the thought of her absent father and further still at the conclusion Carson had drawn for her. And though the prospect of resistance against the French had momentarily heartened her, the more remote call to duty to which he alluded did not have quite the same allure.
"So I must learn the kings and queens of England," she said flatly, with an air of resignation.
"You ought to do so," he said agreeably. He rarely told her she must do anything. "Consider it an aspect of your duty."
She thought about this further and then her eyes brightened again and she met his attentive, adoring gaze. "Do you know any stories about them, Mr. Carson?"
"Our kings and queens?" He considered for a moment. "I might know one or two," he said finally, enjoying the game.
She leaned forward, placing her hands, one on top of the other, on his desk, her dark eyes alive with curiosity and just a hint of mischief. "I think I might remember them better if I knew their stories," she said, her eyes fixed on him.
He felt his heart give way. "I think perhaps you're right," he conceded, never having hoped to win this battle. "Where did you want to begin, then?:
She sat up properly, assuming the lady-like pose that would have made Fraulein Kelder proud, and favoured him with a sweet smile that further melted his heart. "With Richard Coeur-de-lyon," she said immediately. "That's French, you know. It means heart of the lion."
"Does it indeed!" He seemed very impressed, though his French had long stretched at least that far.
"Doesn't he sound exciting?" she demanded. And then she frowned. "Why was he called Richard, Heart-of -the-Lion, Mr. Carson?"
"Because he was very brave, like a lion. Very much like His Lordship."
She considered that for a moment and he watched, mesmerized, as the thoughts swirled in her mind. "I should like to have a lion's heart then," she declared.
A vision of her astride her pony (she would be riding side-saddle, which was only appropriate for a lady of the realm) and leading an army of Yorkshire yeomanry against the French hordes filled his mind.
"You already do," he said, and his voice caught a little. And then, clearing his throat, he began the story.