Beneath the Dover Sky (46 page)

“Insult for insult, blow for blow, eh?” Buchanan’s voice was low. Edward half expected to get cracked over the head by the walking stick. “I’m far from finished with your lot, Danforth. Everything continues to fall into place. Hold fast to what you have. Soon enough you’ll not even have that left.”

Edward grunted. “You won’t live to see the day, Buchanan.” He turned his head slowly and their eyes locked. “Believe me, you won’t.”

18

December, 1930–May, 1931

Christmas Eve, Tubingen, Germany

Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht!

Alles schläft, einsam wacht

Nur das traute, hochheilige Paar.

Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar,

Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh,

Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh.

Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht!

Gottes Sohn, o wie lacht

Lieb aus deinem göttlichen Mund,

Da uns schlägt die rettende Stund,

Christ, in deiner Geburt,

Christ, in deiner Geburt.

The baron bent and poked the logs in the fireplace. “Sean, will you get me some more wood from the basket?”

“
Ja, Opa
.”

“Now we must have a song from Britain, Elizabeth…and then America, Jane. But Elizabeth first; she must begin it.”

“Me?” Lady Preston laughed, her fingers fluttering to her mouth and face. “Don’t be ridiculous, Gerard. Catherine and Libby can do that far better than I can.”

“They will have their turns.”

“Oh heavens.”

“Mum,” Catherine said as she rocked Angelika in her lap, “you have a lovely voice.” Angelika was mesmerized by the firelight.

“Victoria has the voice, my dear.”

“Where do you think she got it from?”

Libby jumped in. “Oh come, Mother. You’d think he’d asked you to sing
The Messiah
.” Libby got up from her chair and plopped down next to Lady Preston on the couch. “I’ll help you. I have the perfect song. I’ll start but you have to come in.”

“Of course, my dear.”

“You all have to come in, all right?” She raised her eyebrows at Jane and Eva. “All right?”

Jane smiled. “Yes, Mum. We’ll raise the roof.”

“
Ach
, don’t do that.” Albrecht was mixing hot apple cider in a pot by the fire. “It’s snowing.”

Libby started singing an old French carol, and soon the other women joined in:

The holly and the ivy,

Now both are full well grown.

Of all the trees that are in the wood,

The holly bears the crown

Oh, the rising of the sun,

The running of the deer.

The playing of the merry organ,

Sweet singing in the choir.

The holly bears a blossom

As white as lily flower;

And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ

To be our sweet Savior.

Oh, the rising of the sun,

The running of the deer.

The playing of the merry organ,

Sweet singing in the choir.

The holly bears a berry

As red as any blood;

And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ

To do poor sinners good.

Oh, the rising of the sun,

The running of the deer.

The playing of the merry organ,

Sweet singing in the choir.

The holly bears a prickle

As sharp as any thorn;

And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ

On Christmas Day in the morn.

Oh, the rising of the sun,

The running of the deer.

The playing of the merry organ,

Sweet singing in the choir.

The holly bears a bark

As bitter as any gall;

And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ

For to redeem us all.

Oh, the rising of the sun,

The running of the deer.

The playing of the merry organ,

Sweet singing in the choir.

The holly and the ivy,

When they are both full grown,

Of all the trees that are in the wood,

The holly bears the crown.

The rising of the sun

And the running of the deer,

The playing of the merry organ,

Sweet singing in the choir.

Montgomery and Skitt stood just outside the alcove in the great hall where the family had settled in with cider to sing carols and open presents.

“Well, they won’t be needing us for a while,” Montgomery said in a low voice. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

“What if they ask for something?”

“They have German staff who are always at their beck and call and come at a quick march as if trying to show us up.” She seized his hand in her strong grip. “Come on!” She led him down a stone hall that still held centuries-old iron brackets for torches. Dropping his hand, she used both of hers to tug on the handle of a huge oak door. “They made ’em this thick to hold up against arrows and axe blows and fire.”

“Do you need a hand?” Skitt put his hands next to hers and pulled. “Oh! It’s stuck.”

“It’ll open. It always does.”

“How many times have you been here?”

“Enough.” She glanced at his face. “And all alone, don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

The door finally gave with a long moan. A gust of cold air spinning with snowflakes blew over them.

“What does this open to?” asked Skitt.

“A turret.” Montgomery went outside, hugging herself with her arms. “Brrr. It’s nippy but the view is worth it.”

“What you can see of it. It’s dark as pitch.”

“The lights of the village are far below. Look.”

Skitt had his hands in his pockets and his shoulders drawn up around his ears. “Lovely,” he said.

“Don’t tease.”

“I’m not. I like the sheer drop of thousands of feet. You think I’d land near the sweets shop?”

She punched him in the arm. “Running off on me?”

“Never.”

She opened her fist and ran her hand up and down the sleeve of his butler jacket. “I shall miss you, Skitt. I feel I got to know you better here than I did in England. Especially after we nursed Lady Preston and young Jane together.”

He smiled. His eyes were used to the darkness now so he could make out her petite features clearly. He brushed a cluster of snowflakes off her maid’s cap.

“It strikes me that you haven’t seen much snow, have you?” she asked, still moving her fingers up and down his arm.

“Not much, no. I did see a snowfall once when I was a boy. It was in the Welsh mountains.”

“It snows all winter in New York State.”

“Is that still home?” He brushed at her cap again. His fingers strayed and touched the dark hair pinned up underneath.

“Home’s wherever Jane winds up. Dover Sky. The Rhine. Perhaps Ashton Park one day.”

Now his fingers touched her cheek. “It’s snowing all over you.”

“Have you ever caught snowflakes on the tip of your tongue, Skitt?” she asked.

“I confess I haven’t.”

“You should try.”

“I’d rather try this.” He kept his hand on her face as he bent slightly and kissed her softly on the lips.

“Oh how I shall miss you when Lady Elizabeth returns to England, my lovely Skitt. I pray Libby, Jane, and I will visit England this summer. I’ll do everything in my power to convince her she ought to marry Commander Terry and move us back across the Channel lock, stock, and barrel.”

“That’s a good plan. You could stir up the Nazis as well. That might help your plans along.”

“Those gangsters! I prefer a wedding between Commander Fordyce and Lady Libby be the reason for our move.”

He put his lips against her neck and shoulder. “I would prefer a wedding too.”

“Now, my dear Jane, I have a special gift for you.”

“But it’s not Christmas morning yet, Grandmother Elizabeth.”

“We won’t tell the others, will we? Jesus was born on Christmas Eve, wasn’t He? So that is a wonderful time to give someone a gift.”

“Unless He was born at two or three. Then that really would be Christmas morning.”

Lady Preston laughed. “You and your wit. Please shut the door, Jane.”

Jane got up from the bed where she’d been sitting next to her grandmother. The air current caused the candle that lit the room to flutter. The girl closed the door, and when she turned to come back Lady Preston was holding up a necklace of rubies that flamed brilliantly in the candlelight. Jane stopped and put a hand to her mouth.

“Merry Christmas, my dear!”

“Grandmother! Not for me?”

“Yes, for you. And this as well.” She patted a hand on a red dress folded up by her side. “Both came from the Far East long ago. You know what the Far East is known as today?”

“China and Japan and—”

“The necklace and dress are from China and fairly traded, I must say, by my great-great-grandfather Welcome Cornwall. He was a great seaman, Jane. Twice he circumnavigated the globe. He was an extraordinary man. We have one of his ship logs and three of his diaries.”

“I should like to read those.”

“I thought you might, and so you shall when you come to Ashton Park, which I pray will be soon.” She set down the necklace and lifted up the dress. It gleamed in the candlelight. “Pure silk. Come. You must try it on. I want you to wear it with the necklace Christmas morning in the great hall.”

“I can’t, Grandmother Elizabeth.”

“Nonsense! Of course you can. You will be fourteen this coming year, but you already look like a lady. You are so tall and perfectly proportioned. You will turn all the men’s heads when you come of age. Why, you already do. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Jane could feel a blush rising from her neck. “Grandmother, that’s not true.”

“Of course it’s true. You will soon grow into the kind of exceptional beauty men paid a king’s ransom to woo and wed in the days of the great dynasties. Emperors would have courted you with pearls and gold. Now, alas, you shall have to settle for Germans and Englishmen. Hopefully a dashing one!”

Jane giggled. “You’re such a storyteller. I should like very much to wed a naval officer like Terry Fordyce.”

“I don’t blame you one bit. He cuts a fine figure. Hopefully your mother will grasp the fact and make him her husband—the sooner the better.”

“I think he’s very close to asking for her hand.”

Lady Preston’s mouth formed a perfect circle. “Oh? And what will your mother say?”

“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am.”

“Well, praise God if we have a wedding to look forward to. But now here we are prattling on, and it’s past midnight. Come, off with the old and on with the new.” She shook the dress so that it seemingly burst into fire in the flickering light.

Jane quickly removed her outer clothing and slipped on the sleeveless dress. It held to her figure perfectly.

“Ah, my beautiful child.” Lady Preston gazed at Jane and sighed. “With your long, dark hair and lovely legs and face—well, there are no words adequate for your beauty. You’re stunning, my dear. What a grand way to celebrate the birth of our Savior. You look royal! I wish your grandfather were here to see you.” She stood up and placed the necklace of rubies around Jane’s neck. “I saved this for my first granddaughter, and that’s you, I’m happy to say. It will ride on your throat
just above the neckline of the dress. Oh, you look like a queen! These are from Burma, or so the good Captain Cornwall recorded in his diary. The rubies are of the finest hues of scarlet and vermilion.” She kissed Jane on the cheek. “Walk about the room and let me look at you.”