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Authors: Murray Pura

Beneath the Dover Sky (48 page)

BOOK: Beneath the Dover Sky
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“Hmm, it will take some time to plan, won’t it? You’re right, of course. Absolutely right. There should be a room with its feet firmly planted on the ground.”

“How long’s Robbie’s furlough?”

“Six months.”

“Then he has plenty of time to help you with it. Waterloo, Agincourt, Crecy, the Somme—a proper mud-and-blood room.”

Lord Preston hummed as he glanced about at the airplane paintings. “Do you know, I was thinking, we don’t quite have it right any longer. With our song ‘Rule Britannia,’ I mean. ‘Rule Britannia, Britannia rule the waves, Britons never shall be slaves.’ There is something
else we must rule if we’re to keep our heads above water, so to speak. The air—am I right?”

Ben slowly lowered himself into an armchair like Kipp was sitting in. “I think you have it, sir. Enemies don’t require boats to cross the Channel now.”

“Exactly, so I thought of this.” He hummed again. “Tell me what you think.”

Rule Britannia, we rule the skies and waves.

Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.

Lord Preston laughed. “My voice is not what it used to be.”

Kipp and Ben clapped.

“That’s excellent, Dad,” said Kipp. “It really works.”

Ben was grinning. “Well done.”

“Do you think so?” Lord Preston smiled and admired an oil painting of a Nieuport 17 dropping into a dive. “Now if we can only convince the BBC to give it some airtime, hmm?”

“Cath?”

Catherine glanced up from the cradle Angelika was sleeping in. “Cheers, Lib. I’m just settling her down for a nap, otherwise she’ll be a German–English bear this evening. How are you holding up with all this madness? Where’s the groom?”

“Terry’s off with Jane and Eva and the boys. They’re on a march around the whole estate.”

“That will take forever and a day. No worries though. It’ll all be over tonight, and Terry can whisk you away to the Med.”

“He can’t actually. He’s due to sail tomorrow with Dad and a crew of eight or ten.”

“Eight or ten? My goodness! Does he fancy he’s back on the
Hood
?”

Libby smiled down at nine-month-old Angelika as she slept, hands curled in a pink blanket. “He finds he can’t say no to Jane or the older boys, including Sean. Your son was a bit put out not having been included in the ceremony—”

“Oh Sean’s fine. He wouldn’t have liked ushering old ladies to their seats anyway.”

“Well, be that as it may, he’s skipper of the
Pluck
at the crack of dawn tomorrow. He gets the wheel for two hours.”

“He doesn’t!”

Libby sat on the new swing that had been placed on the front porch. “They’ll make a sailor out of your boy yet.”

“His father was around the Belfast docks all his life, so I suppose Sean comes by it honestly.” Catherine sat next to her sister and made the swing glide back and forth. “Are you never going to have a honeymoon? Marches and sailing and fireworks tonight and that’s it?”

“Terry promises me the moon by the weekend.”

“The moon by the weekend? Any woman should find the patience in her to wait for that, Lib. Imagine! The moon, you lucky girl.” She moved the swing faster. “I want you to know I’m happy for you. No cheek, I really am. I’m madly in love with Albrecht, and that’s where my heart wants to stay. There’s no point in denying a certain fondness for our dashing naval officer, so I’m glad you’ve brought him into the family. It’s so nice to have him on board. He’ll do us all good. Terry always brings out the best in everyone, especially the children.” Catherine’s eyes glimmered. She smiled and gave Libby a quick kiss on the cheek. “You and I have both lost husbands. But I looked at the crew today with the children racing over the fields, and I feel I’ve recovered at long last. We’re one happy family. I truly feel that. God bless you, sis. God bless your marriage.”

Libby leaned her head against Catherine and put her arms around her.

Skitt closed the door and made a show of dusting his hands off. “That’s that then. Lord Preston said I am free to turn in. He intends to be up with the baron quite a bit longer. I’ve given the old German a bottle of brandy and a decent supply of cigars. For all I know, they’ll be at it all night.”

Montgomery took his hand. “Good heavens. What on earth are they going on about?”

“German politics.”

“Ah.”

“We both know what a nasty topic that can be.”

Montgomery nodded. “We do. But it brought us together, didn’t it? I remember how I loved you as you tended Jane and Lady Preston with me day after day. Not many men can do that, you know—be strong and be sweet.”

“Is that what I am?”

She pressed his hand to her lips. “Yes.”

“Fancy a walk to the pond?”

“I’d love that.”

They headed out the door and down over the lawn under the May stars, holding hands. Skitt was in his black-and-white butler uniform, and Montgomery was in her black-and-white maid outfit and cap. She laughed but quickly covered her mouth with her hand.

Skitt smiled at her. “What’s that?”

“I’m just thinking about you and your ponding.”

“My ponding? What?”

“Sitting all night in the rushes with your cricket bat and flask.”

“Oh that. Well, it’s over and done with. Haven’t made my blind in the reeds for years.”

“You were still at it when I arrived here from America.”

“There was still poaching going on then. It stopped, so Harrison and I finally gave up on the summer vigils.”

She giggled with her hand over her mouth again. “Did you ever whack anyone with your bat?”

“Mosquitoes and gnats and midges, that’s about all.”

“And the swans have been all right since you stopped lurking?”

“Yes, Monty. They’ve been all right. God save the king’s swans.”

The moon was at half as the swans, white and starlike, floated silently, heads tucked back under their wings.

“Dreaming,” whispered Montgomery as she watched them drift. “Just dreaming. Them and me.”

“Am I to ask about your dreams?”

“My dreams are you, love. My dreams are all you.”

“It’s absolutely brilliant.” Terry swung the door back and forth. “I mean, who would have thought?”

Libby sat up in bed, smiling, her arms wrapped about her knees. “None of us children, I can tell you that. And we were up and down all these hallways on rainy days. To us it was just a locked door. We picked it once and got in, and it was like a horrid old closet heaped with ratty coats and mothballs. The smell was wretched. We couldn’t stand it, so we never went back. If only we’d thought to pick the lock hidden behind the coats and swung the second door open. And then got through the third door into this room here. My goodness, what a triumph that would have been! All these oils of great ladies and grand dukes to stare at. Sabers hanging on the wall to take down and swing through the air. Daggers to play with. That suit of armor in the corner there—what a mess we would have made. And we’d probably have taken off a few fingers or heads with the swords. It doesn’t bear thinking about on my wedding night.” She stretched out a hand. “Come to bed, love. There are better things for you to do tonight than open and close a secret door over and over again.”

“It’s a marvel of engineering. We’re quite safe here from the whole brood. Even the evil twins Peter and James.”

“We are, so let’s make the best of it. Remember that you’re shipping out early in the morning on the good ship
Pluck
. They’ll storm this room with pikestaffs and maces if you’re not at the front door at five.”

“And in full uniform too.”

“What?” Libby laughed. “Who on earth asked you to do that?”

“Who do you think? She’ll have the commander’s uniform on I had tailored for her, so she insisted we be look-alikes tomorrow.”

“The things you get yourself into over
our
girl.” She patted the quilt. “Come along now. Or is the brave naval officer afraid?”

“I am a bit, you know.” Terry came over and sat on the edge of the bed. “Mum always told me to watch out for ginger-haired women.”

“Well, it’s too late now. You’re stuck with one.”

“Sounds ominous.”

“Oh, it is—very much so.” She took his chin in her hand. “I love you, Commander.”

The baron opened the window wider to let more of the smoke out of the room. Then he promptly lit another cigar and took another sip of brandy.

“You believe he has the support of the upper classes?” asked Lord Preston, putting down his tea.

The baron nodded and blew out a stream of white-and-gray smoke. “And the middle class too, which is more worrisome. He promises one thing to one group and promises something else to another. Hitler keeps hammering away at the failure of democracy and pointing to the successes of strong monarchs and emperors in Germany’s past. He holds up the need for another Bismarck. He makes remarks about the success of Benito Mussolini in Rome. People are listening as the economy and employment continue to decline into a pit no one seems able to pull us out of. It’s the same in America, in Britain, and in the whole of Europe.”

“Yes, I’m afraid some draconian measures will be coming down from the Labor government. I can’t fault them, but it will not go over well. Even in Parliament’s corridors and foyers I hear mutterings about the need for a strong man to lead us and implement strong measures. I suppose there are fascist groups everywhere these days, not just in Spain, Italy, and Germany.” Lord Preston poured himself another cup. Steam curled up like smoke from the match the baron had just blown out. “But now, Gerard, what about the military? Isn’t Herr Hitler afraid of them just a bit?”

BOOK: Beneath the Dover Sky
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