Beneath the Dover Sky (45 page)

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s this about, eh?” Sir Arthur looked back and forth between Ben, William, and Jeremy, who was sitting at the table next to Emma. “Not another air race?”

“The Wesleyans, Sir Arthur,” Jeremy said, still working on his soup. “Ben is thinking of being ordained with them after a period of training.”

Sir Arthur narrowed his eyes at Jeremy from behind his glasses. “And what will you do, sir?”

“I?”

“Are you thinking of becoming a Wesleyan as well? Is this going to be a family thing?”

“Not at all. I’m content in the Church of England.”

“‘Amazing Grace’ is a fine hymn, very fine.”

“Yes, well, that’s by John Newton, Sir Arthur, an Anglican.”

“O for a Thousand Tongues to Sing; Love Divine, All Loves Excelling; Christ the Lord Is Risen Today.”

“Quite right, Sir Arthur.” Jeremy smiled and laid down his soup spoon.

Tavy whisked spoon and empty bowl away.

Jeremy continued. “We use those hymns by Charles Wesley all the time at our church in London.”

Emma folded her hands under her chin. “I adore ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.’ Charles Wesley wrote those words too.”

Lord Preston nodded at Emma and then looked at Ben. “What about the airline, young man?”

“Kipp is buying me out for my share of the partnership. With Michael and I both gone from the picture, he’ll become the head of the business. I expect he will hire more managers.”

“But you’ve always loved flying.”

“Part of the plan is that I will keep one of our old SPAD S.XXs. It’s quite lovely to fly, Father.”

Lord Preston smiled at the use of the term. “Thank you. And you feel a call to preach the gospel?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You wish for a Methodist church or are you content to be a lay preacher?”

“I should like a church to pastor. Victoria shares with me a certain enthusiasm for missionary work in Africa, so perhaps we’ll wind up there in due course.”

“Africa? The Dark Continent?”

“There have been Methodist missionaries going there for generations.”

Victoria put a hand on Ben’s. “I was shocked when he first raised the subject with me, Father. But when I thought back, I did remember he used to talk about the Methodist Church before he left for the war. So it’s been in his head and heart even before flying.”

“Has it?” Lord Preston caught Ramsay’s eye. “What does the eight-year-old think, hmm?”

Ramsay’s somber face suddenly brightened with his smile. “I should like to see lions and gazelle and wildebeest, Grandfather William.”

“Ha! And what about Timothy?”

The five-year-old with his mother’s auburn hair and green eyes didn’t smile at all. He looked at his grandfather with a serious face. “I should like to see giraffes and elephants and God in Africa.”

Lord Preston chuckled. “And so you shall. Undoubtedly, so you shall.” He turned back to Ben. “Sounds like the Lord’s hand is on your entire family, Ben.” He went back to his mutton. “Capital.”

“Shall I reheat that in the oven, m’lord?” Tavy asked, now standing at William’s shoulder. “Or bring you a fresh portion piping hot?”

“Hmm? Not at all. I don’t mind cold mutton.” He glanced up from his plate a moment. “Well, well, Jeremy, did Ben bring you up here to play the role of
HMS Rodney
to Ben’s
HMS Hood
? Are you the big guns meant to ensure the First Sea Lord’s opinion is properly swayed to support his endeavor?”

Jeremy sipped his water. “Ben and I have talked about this, naturally.
He sought out my advice as a clergyman. Ben is a fine man, but I wondered if he truly was, um,
cut out
to be a man of the cloth. Just like most in the family, I saw him as a dashing pilot and, after the accident, as a man who simply wouldn’t quit. I ought to have expected God had his hand on Ben’s life for him to come so far and surmount so many obstacles.”

“So the two of you have discussed this?” asked Lord Preston.

“Yes.”

“And prayed together?”

“Indeed we have.”

“So you are in support of his desire to train as a Methodist minister? You see the Divine spark in him?”

“I do. I most certainly do. I am sure God is in this, Father.”

Lord Preston pushed himself back from the table and walked around the table to Ben.

Ben slowly got to his feet.

Lord Preston wrapped his arms around the younger man. “My boy, I praise God. I am overjoyed! Elizabeth will be as filled with rejoicing as I am. Have you said anything to the servants here at Ashton Park? Anything at all to our good Baptist, Mrs. Longstaff?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, that is something we must announce when they bring us our cobbler and ice cream, eh? But first let me offer up a prayer for you. This is a great thing—an extraordinary moment. We must go to God with it and thank Him. Don’t you agree, Reverend Whitecross?”

“Why, of course, sir. But I’m no reverend yet. Far from it.”

Lord Preston kept his arm around Ben’s shoulders. “Man looks on the outward appearance, but God looks on the heart.”

Hartmann Castle, the Rhine River, Germany
 

The mist rose up like a grey ship from the Rhine and moored itself over Hartmann Castle. Lord Preston walked around an inner
courtyard with his new granddaughter in his arms, his daughter Catherine at his side in a cloak and hood. They spoke quietly with each other and laughed just as quietly. After half an hour, the sun had still not won out over the haze. While he conversed with his daughter, Lord Preston found his mind drifting away to Danforth Castle and the age of chivalry that had touched both England and Germany with a strong but gracious hand. He looked at the babe in his arms, then he kissed the sleeping child’s forehead and murmured, “Angelika.”

“Ah. There you two are.”

Catherine put a finger to her lips as her husband approached. “Shh. She’s sleeping.”

He smiled and looked at the baby in Lord Preston’s arms. “That’s because she was up all night singing.”

“Oh…” Catherine stifled a laugh. “Is that what you call her screeches?”

“I have heard far worse from choirs, believe me.” He turned to Lord Preston. “Lord Preston, after much discussion, Jane and Eva have decided to weather the storm for now by returning to Tubingen. Next week Jane will meet with her tutor and Eva will return to school. It’s true the Nazi presence is not great there, and they feel the incident at Easter was one that will not be repeated.”

Lord Preston’s features grew rigid. “I pray not.”

“Libby will remain in Germany with her daughter. In addition, Lady Preston wishes to linger till the New Year, another month or so, if you have no objections. She is welcome to remain with us as long as she likes.”

“Elizabeth must have found something wonderful in the German air, to want to stay that long. Well, I have Ben and Victoria and their children at Ashton Park, so I shall not get too lonely. I suppose you will have a grand celebration at Christmas, Albrecht?”

“With our new baby girl? Of course! You can count on us having an especially large tree in the great hall.”

“You mean to enjoy the holiday here?”

“Yes. The area is magical, especially if we are blessed with a fall of snow.”

“I should like to see that some year.” Lord Preston gently handed the infant to Catherine. “What news of the election?”

Albrecht’s face lost its new-father glow. “I just received the paper. With the stock market crash last year and the economic downturn, the Nazi Party and its goblins, including Goebbels and Himmler, have picked up momentum. I feared this. They have one hundred and seven seats now. A day ago they only had fourteen. This makes them the second largest party in Germany.”

“I’m very sorry to hear it. You still think Jane will be safe?”

“I would not take her to Munich or Berlin. It’s my hope that if financial conditions improve over the next twenty-four months we will see Herr Hitler and his cronies fade into oblivion once again.”

“Hmm.” Lord Preston gazed up at rooks that had flown into the courtyard and found several window ledges to perch on. “I hope you’re right. The Labor government of Ramsay MacDonald will be forced to make unpopular cost-cutting measures this Parliament. And it seems clear from what I’ve read in the papers from New York and Toronto that the United States and Canada are heading into a serious depression.”

Albrecht put his hands behind his back. “My sense of it is that the German people mistrust Hitler and his brownshirts. He may have won more seats this election, and he may be straining at the leash to gain the presidency or chancellorship of the nation, but he will not get either. People see what happens in the streets and at political rallies when his Nazis are present. They represent absolutely the worst side of the German character.”

Lord Preston nodded and put a hand on his son-in-law’s shoulder. “Nor can Britain ever let down its guard. Bullies and fascists lurk in the corners of every democracy. Only good men like yourself keep them at bay.” He suddenly smiled. “You should write another book.”

“That very thing was raised by the Brotherhood last week. Frankly I didn’t think they would go forward on the idea, but Bruno Dressler rang this morning and said they very much want me to begin working on a first draft for publication in the spring or summer.”

Catherine laughed as she cradled Angelika. “That’s marvelous, Albrecht!”

“Indeed.” Lord Preston shook Albrecht’s hand. “What will be the theme? How shall it differ from your other book released to offset Hitler’s propaganda?”

“They wish me to challenge Hitler directly, as if he and I were engaged in a public debate at the university. Toe to toe and blow for blow, so to speak.”

“That sounds fairly aggressive and combative, but perhaps that’s the very approach needed. Have they suggested a title for this work?”

Albrecht nodded. “They wish to play off the success of Hitler’s title and raise sales as well as eyebrows. His, as you know, is called
Mein Kampf
, which means ‘My Struggle.’ Mine is to be entitled
Mein Krieg
, which means ‘My War.’ ”

Parliament, Westminster, London

“Danforth. Fancy meeting you here. You’re so far away on the benches in the House I thought you’d fallen into the Thames.” Buchanan strode across the empty foyer in the Parliament buildings, silver-headed walking stick in hand. “Waiting for Daddy, are you?”

Edward kept his hands clasped behind his back. “Stanley Baldwin, actually.”

“Baldwin? Old Has-Been Baldwin? You’ve hitched your cart to the wrong star, Danforth.”

“Do you think so? Your minority government will fall soon enough, Buchanan. And when it does, Baldwin will be first man in the kingdom once again.”

Buchanan lifted his thick eyebrows and curled his lip. “The Conservative Party is finished as a political force. So are you and your father. What will you do when Dover finally tosses you out on your ear? Sell pencils to the reporters on Fleet Street?”

Edward turned his back on Buchanan and gazed through a window at the November rain coming down in long, gray streaks. “Run for Ayrshire South, of course. That would be the easiest plum for me to pick from the Labor tree. They have a slacker as MP, no mistake about that.”