Beneath the Dover Sky (28 page)

“At night—”

“Even at night there is no peace and quiet. By the time there is, I’m too exhausted to meet you for a
tête-à-tête
under the stars. By day we talk books, history, art, religion, and politics. By night we do the same until I am drooping.”

He lifted a hand and ran his thumb over her cheek. “That is why I have brought you here now.”

“This peaceful moment won’t last. Sean and Mama will come looking for me any minute now, and that will be that for our little interlude by Heidelberg Castle.”

“They won’t.”

“Why won’t they?”

“I told Hans I must have at least a half an hour with you. I told Martin too. So there are…how shall I say it? Ah, guards posted to block all paths to the stern. We have twenty-five more minutes.”

She continued to toy with the button. “You sound very sure of yourself.”

“Sure of myself? No, I feel very hesitant right now. But I am confident of my guards. The children and grandmothers and grandfather shall not get past them.”

“Mama can have a temper.”

“My men will charm her.”

“Charm her? With what?”

“Roses. Coffee. Mints. Whatever pleases her.”

“All to what end?”

“Time alone with you, naturally.” He put his lips to hers. When she didn’t push him away, he kissed her hair and throat and then went back to her lips. This time with more passion.

She responded with a surge of her own and tugged on his hair with her fingers as she kissed him, tugging harder and harder. His arms were around her back with a sudden force that made it difficult for her to catch her breath. But she had no intention of ending the kiss, luxuriating in it as the boat floated over the water.

Finally Albrecht drew back.

“Oh…” she said softly, “I wish you hadn’t.”

“We have more time. But there is something I want to ask you.”

“Ask me? Ask me now? I would rather you brought your lips down to mine again.”

“It’s the most important thing I have ever asked you.”

“Is it?” Her eyes were large and dark and flecked with light. “What are you up to, Albrecht Hartmann?”

Dover Sky

Kipp finally spotted her shoeprints in the mud by the small stream under the willows. She hadn’t been at the pond or any of the fieldstone fences and he’d been about to head back to the manor when he thought of the willows.

She loves trees but especially the willows at her family’s estate
.

There he saw her sitting by the stream.

“Caroline.”

She didn’t move.

“Caroline. I’m back from Africa. It’s been years.”

Still she didn’t move.

“I’m sorry. It’s been more like forever. No letters. No cables. But I need to talk to you alone.”

She remained like stone.

“What’s happened?”

He ran towards her. She suddenly turned her head and brandished the dagger at him.

“Get back, Kipp. I have to do this. At least four cuts to the face. I just haven’t had the nerve.”

“Caroline, have you gone mad? Give me that knife!”

He lunged, but she put the dagger to her throat. “I’ll do it. I don’t care anymore. Life is nothing but a great darkness.”

“No, it’s not. I want to talk to you. I want to start again.”

Her laugh was harsh. “Oh, I knew you’d say that. You don’t look like Kipp – you’ve lost too much weight and your skin is as dark as mud – but you sound just like him. More promises. I’m not interested. And when I’m done with my face you won’t be interested either.”

“Caroline, please don’t. You’re so beautiful –”

She laughed again. “My famous beauty. What good has it ever done me? Broken heart after broken heart. You called me a whore.”

“I was a fool. I was worse than a fool. God forgive me. Christelle was right.”

“Christelle, ah, Christelle, what was she right about?” Caroline put the point of the dagger against her cheek. “You won’t love me without a face you can kiss, Kipp Danforth.”

“Don’t!”

He tried to seize the dagger a second time but she thrust it at her throat again.

“I’ll finish myself off, Kipp, I swear it. Stay back.”

“All right. Do it. Go ahead, do it. I’ll join you.” Kipp brought a pocketknife from his pants pocket and flipped it open. He put it to his cheek. “If you can cut your face to ribbons, so can I. I’m to blame for your misery. So if you’re going to do four cuts, I’ll do eight.”

“You won’t!”

“I will!”

“Stop it, Kipp!”

“Who do you think I thought about when I flew from the Orkneys to Cape Town? You and Chris. Who did I think about after I crash landed in the Sahara and was half crazy with thirst? You and Chris. All the fighting I’ve done with the French Foreign Legion in Morocco, all the heat and flies and bullets and killing; who was on my mind hour after hour, day after day? You and Chris.”

Caroline saw him press down on the knife. She shrieked and threw herself at Kipp, twisting the pocketknife out of his hand with a fierce burst of strength and flinging it into the trees. He seized her dagger hand and they fell to the ground, rolling over and over in the mud and water, her fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt, his hand bending back her wrist and trying to break her grip. She cried out and slapped him and clawed his eyes but he wrenched at her wrist until she dropped the dagger in the stream.

“That hurt!” she yelled, blue eyes blazing.

“I don’t care!” he shouted back.

She went at him again with her nails and tried to pull his hair but his head was so close shaven there was nothing to grasp. Kicking at his legs and biting at his hands, she pushed him against a willow trunk and started beating him with her fists. He caught her hands and threw her into the shallow stream, immediately launching himself at her and pinning her there so that her hair was under water and the current running over her cheeks and eyes. Unable to squirm loose she lifted her head and tried to bite his ear, finally swinging her head so that her heavy wet hair struck him in the face.

“I hate you!” she cried.

“I love you!”

“Shut up, Kipp Danforth!”

“No!”

He began to kiss her cheek, cold water mixing with the taste of her skin.

“Don’t touch me!” she screeched.

But he continued to kiss her, his lips finding her eyes that she
screwed shut, and her throat that she twisted back and forth to get away from him, and her lips that she sucked in and held tight against her teeth. He let go of her hands and put his arms under her back and lifted her out of the stream, cradling her and kissing her with more and more intensity. She dug her nails into his back and slapped at his neck and shoulders but nothing stopped him. When she opened her mouth to shout something at him his lips were there quickly, pressing against the softness and fullness that had always been part of the great beauty of Caroline Scarborough. Suddenly she laced her arms around his neck as tightly as she could and began to cry as he held her, kissing back with a fire and abandon as desperate as the blows she had rained on him moments before.

“Oh, Kipp, what are we going to do?” she cried.

“Marry me.”

“Don’t be mad. What sort of proposal is that?”

“It’s the best I can do right now.”

“Look at us. Thank the good Lord that Harrison went to London today.”

“Marry me, Lady Caroline Virginia Scarborough.”

“I can’t, Kipp. I hate you, you know I hate you, a lovers’ quarrel in a creek doesn’t change that.” They kissed again, their arms around each other. “When do you want to have the wedding?”

“Tonight.”

“Oh, Kipp, why wait for tonight?”

Heidelberg, the Neckar River, Germany

Catherine’s eyes remained wide. “Now you’ve got me frightened, Albrecht.”

“It’s not a matter involving fear.” He pushed strands of hair out of her eyes. “Or perhaps it is.”

“What are you talking about? Have you decided to join the Nazi Party? Is Herr Hitler waiting to receive us at his castle on the Rhine?”

“Nothing like that! It is much more pleasant a prospect. I want to say I love you. No more than that.
Ich liebe dich
.”

“No more than that? That’s a lot, Albrecht.”

His hand moved slowly down the side of her face. “There is also the fact that I find you the most beautiful woman alive.”

Her hand reached up to grasp his. She brought it to her lips and kissed it. “Thank you.
Danke schön
.”

“And something else.”

She smiled. “Well, the arrival at Heidelberg is turning out to be quite a moment in the lives of Albrecht Hartmann and Catherine Danforth Moore.”

“It is, isn’t it? Let us have many such moments. A lifetime of such moments.” He cupped her face in both his hands. “
Catherine, heirate mich bitte
.”

She let out her breath. “I don’t think I need a translation. Albrecht, you can’t mean it.”

“Of course I mean it.”

“I’m not ready to—”

“When will you be ready?” he cut in. “You’re still young. You can have more children. Build another home—build a castle! How many more years, Catherine? Five? Ten? I love you. Marry me on this boat. Marry me on the Rhine. Marry me when we reach my family’s home on the river. But please, can we stop this yes, no, yes, no, back and forth?”

“Albrecht—”

“Marry me. Marry someone who cherishes you. Or marry Leftenant Commander Fordyce. He loves you too, I’m sure. There is no reason for you to keep living alone. I want you to wed Albrecht Hartmann, but if not me, another man who will treasure you and give Sean a family. No more waiting, Catherine. Please, no more putting it off. You are a woman—strong, intelligent, full of compassion, and beautiful. It is time to choose, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know what to think.”

“Of course you do.” He kissed her on the lips. “Give yourself a moment, and then tell me yes or no. One or the other. I will celebrate
the one and survive the other. But here on the river at Heidelberg, I must know. You have turned all this over in your heart for years. Tell me what you’ve found. Today. Here. Now. Tell me what you see in your heart and soul, Catherine. Tell me what you feel for me and how strong that feeling is.”

11

June, 1927

London airstrip

The silver monoplane circled the airfield, did a victory roll, and came in for a landing. Michael walked out to it while the plane’s three propellers were still spinning. Ben jumped down, a large smile spreading across his face.

“Look at her, Mike! Isn’t she a beaut? We’ve got two of them up in Lancashire, and this is the first of your pair I’m delivering.”

Michael reached up and ran his hand over the single wing. “The Fokker F.VII B/3M. Three engines—all of them 220 horsepower. Eight passengers. How’s she fly?”

“Like a dream. Let’s get some petrol into her and you can take her up.”

“I’d love that.”

“We’ve given her a name.” He patted the letters painted on the engine cowling—
Dover Sky
. “One of ours up north is the
Ashton Park
. Did you get down to Dover Sky last weekend?”