Beneath the Dover Sky (50 page)

“Available?” Shannon raised a golden eyebrow. “Is that what I’ll be?”

“You will. And Caroline has her hands full with little Cecilia.”

Caroline laughed. “Indeed I do. No stretch there.”

Robbie bowed. “So you see, Lady Libby, there is only myself, but I shall be sufficient to keep you awake and alert until the good news comes to the door. We shall play checkers.”

“I detest checkers.”

“Chess then. Chess and we’ll snack on coffee and biscuits.”

Libby made a face at him.

“Chocolate biscuits.” He mussed her hair and she slapped his hand. “Lib Danforth, lady or no lady, could never resist milk chocolate digestives.”

“I’m no lady.”

“We can discuss that until three or four in the morning.”

She wrinkled up her mouth. “How happy that makes me.”

The cable arrived at two thirty-seven. Robbie had put Libby in check for the third move in a row. Libby was at the door first, followed by Robbie, who tipped the courier and then read the cable out loud over her shoulder.

DEAREST LIB

YOU WILL HAVE HEARD THE NEWS. THIS WAS MY FIRST CHANCE TO DASH OFF A NOTE. WE WEIGH ANCHOR IN TWO HOURS. THE LADS HAVE RETURNED TO THEIR DUTIES. THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES BUT AT LEAST NO ONE WAS HURT AND THE NAVY AND ARMY DID NOT SEND IN TROOPS. I WILL SEE YOU AND JANE VERY SOON INDEED. ALL MY LOVE.

TERRY

“Such good news!” Libby turned and slung her arms about Robbie’s neck. She kissed him on the cheek.

“It is. And it means I can go to bed now. I’m tuckered.”

“I’m not. I ate too much. One more game of chess?”

He laughed and groaned. “You lost all the others.”

“I won’t lose this one. I’m sharp now. I always do well at chess when I’ve had welcome news. Isn’t it the same for you, Robbie?”

“It’s not. I simply sleep better.”

“Capital! Then I shall beat you up one side and down the other.” She put her arm through his. “Come on. I feel like a stick of dynamite.”

“Well, blow up quickly then and be done with it so I can go to my pillow as soon as possible.”

Election Night, 1931

“Dad? Is that you?” Edward held the phone to one ear and put his finger in the other as people cheered and shouted behind him.

“It is. Congratulations, my boy. Another October election, another Guy Fawkes on the horizon, and once again you’ve come out on top.”

Edward laughed. “I have indeed. So have you. So have we all. Imagine, Baldwin has four hundred and seventy seats and Labor only forty-six. It’s a miracle! Really it is! And that villain Buchanan is out. We have James Orr MacAndrew in Ayrshire South now—our own man.”

“It’s a great blessing. But now, my boy, you must keep your opinions to yourself. Ramsay MacDonald will continue on as prime minister—”

“Surely not, Father!” blurted Edward. “We have all the seats! Baldwin should lead the government!”

“Nevertheless, MacDonald will carry on. Mr. Baldwin and the party think it best in these troubled times. And you must think so too, Edward, and voice your support so that everyone can hear. Recall what happened when MacDonald agreed to head up a National Government of all parties—Labor threw him out permanently. If you are perceived as being an opponent of the National Government the Conservative Party helped bring into being, Mr. Baldwin will have you ousted in like fashion. Stick with your party, Edward. You can do much good there and eventually be rewarded for your loyalty.”

“How rewarded? I’ve been in office seven years and haven’t been offered a cabinet position.”

“Your time will come, dear boy. Persist and your time will come. My best to lovely Charlotte and my two wonderful grandsons. Tell Owen
to keep
Sea-Fever
fresh in his mind. We will get another sail in before Guy Fawkes. I shall drop down to Dover Sky on the weekend. Tell Colm I’ll see him soon.”

“Yes, I’ll tell them, Dad.”

“Good night, my boy. Once more, congratulations. Keep what I’ve said before you at all times.”

“I will, sir. Thank you. Love to Mum.”

London

Danforth,

Let us put our differences aside and talk. You see what is happening in the government and the country. Believe it or not, you and I share a number of the same concerns. Come to Tollers tomorrow afternoon at three. Ask for Edmund Henson’s private room and give out your name as Jack Thistle. Do not fail to arrive at the appointed time. It will be to our mutual benefit and certainly offer you an opportunity for political advancement.

Buchanan

Edward entered the crowded Tollers, but he didn’t recognize any of the men at the tables amidst the haze of pipe smoke. He shook his umbrella so that water drops spattered the carpet just inside the door. He folded it shut and removed his silk top hat.

“May I assist you, sir?” A uniformed waiter asked and then smiled. “I’m afraid all the tables are occupied.”

“I’m here to see Edmund Henson.”

“Your name?”

“Tell him Jack Thistle has arrived.”

“One moment.”

The waiter vanished into the back. Edward stood by the door staring straight ahead. The waiter returned quickly.

“This way, sir.”

Edward followed him down a short hallway that had doors on either side. They came to the last one. The waiter knocked, opened the door, and stepped aside. Edward went into the room and immediately saw Buchanan seated at a wooden table smoking a white, long-stemmed pipe.

“Danforth.” Buchanan removed the pipe stem from his mouth. “Good of you to come.”

The waiter closed the door.

“What the devil are you playing at?” snapped Edward. “Why all the cloak and dagger?”

“Gently, Danforth. We need to be discreet.” He indicated a man Edward hadn’t noticed seated at the far end of the table. “I presume you’ve met Sir Oswald Mosley, the Sixth Baronet?”

Edward briefly inclined his head. “Sir Mosley. I didn’t expect to see you here with Lord Buchanan.”

The slender man with a dark moustache and flashing black eyes smiled. “Why not? He and I both admire Mussolini and Hitler and their ideological inclinations. As do you.”

“As do I, sir?”

“Death to the communists. No trade with Moscow. A strong man at the top rather than the weak and slow action…or rather inaction…of the democratic process. High tariffs to protect British manufacturing from international trade. Nationalization of our major industries. A solid and innovative network of public works to reduce unemployment. A strong army, navy, and air force.” Mosley patted a sheaf of papers in front of him. “All of your thoughts are on paper. In addition, a person may track the development of your thoughts by means of your speeches that are recorded in
Hansard
. Like many other good people in Europe, you are a fascist, Lord Danforth.”

Edward took a chair opposite Buchanan. “I’ve never called myself that.”

“The left would make it a dirty word, but the fascist movement has worked wonders in Italy and Rome. In time it will work wonders in Madrid and Spain, as well as Berlin and Germany. Soon enough it will change London and Britain if true Englishmen like yourself join our cause.”

“Your party was wiped out in the election, Sir Mosley. You lost your seat in Smethwick.”

“A temporary setback. I plan to spend time with the fascist leaders in Rome and Berlin to sharpen my strategies and tactics. They began in the streets and won the people to their side. So shall we.”

Edward placed his top hat on the table. “Herr Hitler may have the second largest party in Germany, Sir Mosley, but he is far from winning the German people to his side.”

“Do you doubt he will go further, Lord Danforth?”

Edward drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “I shall be kicked out of the Conservative Party if I consider this, let alone have to deal with what my father will say.”

“Let us not rush things. We meet in private for now. In a year or two, once the time is ripe, we come forward. My plan is to unite all the fascist groups in Britain to make one formidable force. Until then, we do what we do out of the public eye.” Mosley nodded at Edward. “I see a cabinet position for you, Lord Danforth. And for you too, Lord Buchanan.” His dark eyes remained on Edward. “Can we bury the hatchet?”

Edward glanced at Buchanan. “How is it you have summoned me to this meeting when you know the bad blood that exists between us?”

Buchanan shrugged. “I’m willing to abide by a truce until the nation is back on its feet again.”

“But you were with Labor, the lovers of communism and socialism.”

“I had no other choice, Danforth. I couldn’t join the Conservative Party because you and your father were in it. The one party that most actively opposes your own is Labor, so it wasn’t a difficult decision to make.”

“Labor’s policies are utterly at odds with the agenda Sir Mosley proposes.”

“I’m out of Labor now, Danforth, so all of these issues you raise are moot. I can now show my true colors and not kowtow to the Labor line in order to strike out at the Danforth clan.”

“And what will keep you from striking out at us if I join forces with Sir Mosley and you?”

“I will,” Mosley stated, his voice having the ring of iron on iron. “There can be absolutely no infighting. We must provide a united front against our foes if we are to pull Great Britain out of this economic depression. Is that clear, Lord Buchanan?”

Buchanan inclined his head. “Very much so.”

“Lord Danforth?”

Edward nodded. “I will abide by the truce, Sir Mosley. I will abide by the truce for king and country so long as Lord Buchanan stays true to his word.”

Buchanan grunted. “No fear of that, Danforth.”

20

April, 1932–January, 1933

Lime Street Chapel, Liverpool

Ben Whitecross looked over the congregation in the small room. The place was packed. Officials and bishops from the Methodist Church in England sat in the front row. His wife and two sons were right behind them, seated next to Lord and Lady Preston. At the back, with all their children, sat Jeremy and Emma and Kipp and Caroline. People Ben had been caring for the entire two years he’d been at Lime Street Chapel were watching him closely, eyes fixed on his face and the small movements of his hands. He turned a page of the large Bible that lay open on the pulpit in front of him.

“I suppose I have an adventurous spirit,” Ben said. “God uses that. He certainly used it in the life of the apostle Paul. Paul wanted to go everywhere with the gospel, including Europe, Spain, and Asia. My text today is from his words in his second letter to the Corinthians: ‘
To preach the gospel in the regions beyond you, and not to boast in another man’s line of things made ready to our hand
.’ I’ve loved being among you here. The Lord has fulfilled a dream I kept hidden for years—to minister to people in His name. Up until now, I’ve worked with horses and flown airplanes and been blessed with marriage and children. I could successfully argue that my entire life has been a blessing. Coming to the pulpit was one way of thanking God. Going to East Africa, to Kenya
specifically, is another. Christians have been serving there for a century, but many places remain untouched. Many live and die and pass into eternity without hearing about the God of love and His Son, Jesus Christ. So that’s where I need to go. Regions beyond that need someone to preach, to pray, and to fly in medical supplies and Bibles. With the gracious support of the Methodist Missionary Society, your tithes and offerings, and the help of my family and our own resources, I’m on my way to Kenya in a fortnight. My wife and children will join me at the end of the year once I have everything prepared. I praise God for the opportunity to take His light and His love to the African people. It will be the grandest adventure of what has already been a very grand life.”