by Murray Pura
The blessings of Christ on your lovely head.
Your servant,
Albrecht
Catherine read it through twice. The color returned to her face—more color than had been in it all day. She gazed at the swans as they floated slowly back and forth on the green and silver water. “What is going on, God?” she whispered. “What are You doing in my life now? I have no idea how I feel about Albrecht Hartmann or what he’s involved in. How am I supposed to respond to this?”
3
July, 1924
Dover Sky
“You needn’t be so ceremonial, William. This isn’t the Magna Carta. Open the letter. It’s already sat for a week after Skitt put it in your hand and you misplaced it.”
“I merely set it aside, Elizabeth. I was quite conscious of its whereabouts the entire time.”
“Yes, yes, dear. Save your speeches for Parliament, please. Just read me Robbie and Shannon’s letter.”
“Will do.” Lord Preston carefully slit the thin envelope with a letter opener that bore the Danforth coat of arms. Setting the opener down, he brought out a sheet of paper thinner than the envelope. “There are no photographs, Elizabeth.”
“Well, I didn’t think there would be. Oh, read it to me! Is Shannon with child?”
He unfolded the letter and cleared his throat as if he were about to say, “Mr. Speaker…”
Dear Mum & Dad,
Cheers! I’m sending this as quickly as I can. Shannon and I were planning to surprise the two of you by showing up for Dad’s sixtieth birthday celebration. We were promised a month’s leave from my post here so we were busy packing. On the last day of June I was waiting to speak with an important member of the Jewish community. My adjutant burst into my office with the news the man had just been assassinated. I went to the scene immediately. It was a grim sight. At first we thought Arabs were the assassins, but further investigation made it clear it was one of the Jewish militant groups—the Haganah. Why did they kill one of their own? Simply put, Jacob Israel de Haan wanted a state that included secular and religious Jews in the government, as well as Arab Muslims and Arab Christians, but the Haganah want a Jewish state, period.
I’m used to the Arabs and Jews being at each other’s throats. Yet I knew this region had shades of Ireland to it, where Jew might turn on Jew or Arab on Arab just as Irishman had turned on Irishman. However I confess I did not expect the cold-blooded murder of a Jew by other Jews. It has given me a bit of a jolt. Not least because I knew de Haan personally and he was one of my brightest hopes for Palestine’s future. Really, the only way we can keep Jerusalem from spiraling down into a cycle of constant violence is to establish a nation that is inclusive of Muslims and Jews and Christians. That is the spirit de Haan epitomized, and he was having successful talks with Arab leaders. Obviously too successful in the eyes of the Haganah and the Zionists.
Well, it could just as easily have been the Arabs who had done it. They too have their hotheads who don’t want a Palestinian state that includes Jews in its government. How will the moderates prevail when there are so many with their fingers on the trigger on both sides? And here we British are in the middle. How can I possibly sort all this out when the leaders I have most counted on to bring peace to this region are cut down in their prime?
I’ll get this in the mailbag for England straightaway. I am so very sorry we can’t make it up for your birthday, Dad, but you see how things are. Perhaps we’ll be able to get away next year.
Meanwhile, despite all this, Shannon and I enjoy good health and relish this wonderful climate. God bless you and please pray for us here.
Love to all,
Robbie
Lady Preston was fingering her necklace and staring out the parlor window at the apple trees. “I should like to live to see peace in Jerusalem.”
“It has been this way from time immemorial, Elizabeth. One group fighting another. Several Danforths went on Crusades, you know.”
“I just don’t want them turning on our British troops for lack of something else to do. There’s a viciousness in Palestine I had not counted on. I fear Robbie is in harm’s way again.”
“Nonsense.” Lord Preston folded the letter and tucked it back in its envelope. “They have no reason to go after our army. We’re there to help.”
“Now you settle in here behind this bush,” ordered Fairburn.
“I’m not behind the bush,” complained Skitt, “I’m in it.”
“All the better. The poachers won’t be able to tell you from a thatch of brambles.”
The sun had gone down, but there was still enough twilight to see clearly when Skitt crouched down in the brush. Fairburn handed him a cricket bat.
“Now if you spot ’em, holler like the dickens and I shall come running from my hut. Whack them about a bit with the bat and soften ’em up for the constables. Remember, the poachers are on our land so they’re trespassing. And if they’ve come for the swans, they’re poaching as well. And they’re not just taking anyone’s swans.”
“I know, I know. They’re poaching the swans of the Marquess of Preston.”
Fairburn made a sour face. “They’re not just the Marquess of Preston’s swans, lad. They’re the king’s birds.”
“What do you mean?”
“Have I not told you? The swans of this estate have been under royal protection by edict since 1789. Twenty years back, they were Queen Victoria’s swans. Today they’re King George the Fifth’s. All the more reason to knock the poachers about a bit and give them what for.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“We’ll spell each other. You have tonight and tomorrow night. Then it’s my go. Have you got your flask of tea?”
“Aye. Mrs. Longstaff fixed me two great ham sandwiches as well.”
“Good enough. We’ll see you at dawn then, unless you catch ’em. Don’t forget to make a great racket that will bring me on the run. Cheers.”
“Cheers.”
Skitt hunkered down further into the bush, opened his leather flask, sipped some tea, screwed the cap back on, and began to hum “Abide with Me” while he watched the swans glide around the pond. They look like vessels with all sails set, so they do, he thought. The great birds settled down as it became fully dark, tucking their bills back under their wings, some remaining in the water, others coming up on land. The July night was warm so Skitt felt no discomfort. He gripped his cricket bat firmly and flicked his eyes from one side of the pond to the other. He thought about the summer ball that was only three nights away. The great hall at Dover Sky was already decorated with white lights and streamers. He almost closed his eyes as he imagined that night…
Lady Catherine.
Ah, Master Skitt. To what do I owe this pleasure?
I brought you a glass of lemonade. You look a bit pink.
Why, that’s so kind of you. Indeed, I was feeling the heat. How may I thank you?
Well, I was wondering if I might have this dance?
My goodness, you’re asking me? A girl should be so lucky. I’d be honored. Please take my hand and let’s go onto the floor. Do you know how to waltz?
Indeed I do, Lady Catherine.
Really? You are a man of many talents, Master Skitt. I do hope one dance will not be enough for you.
With a lady as fair as you, I doubt it.
How charming you are. Let us stay partners as long as we possibly can.
“It’s not working! I knew it.” Sally stood in front of the mirror, lifted up a handful of her hair, and then let it drop. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips tight. “I’m a fright. I can’t go upstairs to the ball. I shall spend my night in bed reading a romance.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Norah swished up behind Sally wearing a red gown that flared out from her hips. She began poking pins into her friend’s straw-blonde hair. “A few hairpins and you will be absolutely devastating.”
“I will not. The night’s a disaster.”
“The night will be a triump
h. Blue eyes, blonde hair, the tiniest freckles I’ve ever seen—the men will trip over themselves to dance with you. And there are quite a few of them.”
“What? Have you gone and peeked?”
“I have. And they all look smashing. There are some soldiers and naval officers too, and their uniforms are lovely.”
Sally bounced up and down on her toes. “Oh, I can’t wait. Hurry!”
Norah put several pins in her mouth so she could move her fingers about more freely. “Mmm.”
“Has anyone danced yet? I can hear the violins.”
Norah plucked the pins from her mouth and plunged them carefully into Sally’s upswept hair. “Lord Preston led off with Mrs. Longstaff, if you can believe it.”
“Mrs. Longstaff! She said she wouldn’t be caught within a hundred miles of here the night of the ball.”
“I don’t know who or what changed her mind, but she’s done up in rose-and-pink ribbons and doesn’t even look like our cook anymore. Honestly, she’s a woman at least fifteen years younger.”
Sally bounced on her toes again. “That’s enough. We must get upstairs.”
“One minute.” Norah jabbed and stabbed. “Skitt’s on the floor with Lady Catherine.”
Sally whipped her head around and several pins fell out. “No!”
“Now look, we’ve got to do the right side again,” grumbled Norah, bending down for the pins.
“I never thought he’d have the nerve.”
“He was fortifying himself at the punch bowl before he asked her.”
“But the punch doesn’t have any alcohol in it.”
“Of course not. Lord Preston’s a good religious man. But Skitt didn’t think of that. So he finally marched off thinking he was well fueled for his Waterloo with Lady Catherine.”
“Well, if it was his Waterloo, he must have been Wellington if she let him take her out onto the floor.”
“Twice that I saw. And you’ll also be surprised to know he did us proud.”
“What d’ya mean?”
“He glided about like one of those swans of his. Can you imagine?”
Sally almost whipped her head around a second time, but Norah’s hands held it firmly this time.
“He did not!”
“You see,” Norah said, “all those lessons you gave him made a difference.”
“Me? You danced with him more than I did.”
“I didn’t.”
“Three lessons for every one of mine.”
Norah snorted. “I can’t float like a swan over the dance floor. How could I have taught him how to do it, Sal?”
“Oh, I want to see!” Sally reached up and pulled Norah’s hands away from her hair. “Enough. I don’t care. Let’s go upstairs.”
“Sal,” Norah said as she peered at herself in the mirror and brushed an eyelash from her cheek, “the ball isn’t going anywhere.”
“ ’Course it is. It’s going out the door at midnight. Hurry.”
The great hall at Dover Sky was half the size of the one at Ashton Park, but it still held two hundred people comfortably. The walls had sea paintings—some of naval battles in the Channel and others of fishing boats, the background always including images of Dover’s white cliffs. A string quartet sat at one end of the hall on a platform erected for the occasion. Tables groaning with meats and cheeses stood at the other end. White lights glowed, strung from one corner of the ceiling to the other, and colored streamers of crepe paper dangled down, stopping eight feet from the floor.
Norah and Sally had helped decorate the hall. Taking it all in at once—the lights in the semidarkness of the room, the string players bent to their task, the red coats of the army officers and the blue coats of the naval officers, the women in their gowns and the men in their morning suits, crystal glasses glittering in people’s hands—gave the two young women a sense of being in a different mansion. It didn’t seem like their well-known Dover Sky at all.
Sally seized Norah’s hand. “There are two men of Nelson’s Navy approaching us.”
“Nelson’s Navy? What in heaven’s name are you talking about? It’s 1924 not 1805.”
“I like to think of the navy that way. I always have since I was a little girl.” Sally stood as straight as she could. “I’ll take the tall, dark, handsome one. You can have the other.”
“The other one’s shorter than me!”
“Shh! Do make the best of it.” Sally curtsied as the officers bowed. She made eye contact with the tall one. “Good evening, sirs. May we have the pleasure of your acquaintance?”
“Seven dances! My goodness!” Lady Catherine laughed and fanned her face with her hand. “Who would have thought you had wings on your feet, Master Skitt?”
“I hope you enjoyed yourself, m’lady.”
“Enjoyed myself? I don’t think I’ve ever flown about a dance floor like that.”
Skitt bowed, his morning suit tight on his slender frame. “My pleasure. And now I’m afraid I must go.”
“What? The night’s still young. I’d love to have another go ’round with you.”
Skitt beamed, his eyes bright amid the shine of the lights hanging overhead. “It would be an honor, Lady Catherine, but it’s my turn to be down at the pond. We’re trying to nab the poachers, you see.”
“Fairburn?”
“He’s lending Tavy a hand there by the tables. This would be just the sort of night the rascals would choose to go after our swans, Lady Catherine, what with everyone in here at the party. I do hope I may have the pleasure of dancing with you again one day.”
“Oh, of course, Skitt. I’ll sneak you into my father’s birthday ball in a fortnight.”
“But I’m not gentry.”
She patted him on the cheek with a gloved hand. “Never mind. We’ll have our dance, I promise. Please be careful tonight.”
“I will. Thank you.” Skitt turned and marched through the great hall doorway.
Catherine snatched a drink of punch from a tray Tavy was carrying as he wandered through the crowd. “I need a drink or I’m going to faint,” she announced.
“Are you well, ma’arm?” asked Tavy in his gravelly voice.
“Certainly I’m well, but Master Skitt is so much younger than I am. He would have danced on for another five hours if he didn’t have his pond assignment.”
“I’m sure you’ve made his night, ma’arm. Probably his year. Perhaps his life.”
“Oh heavens, Tavy. Don’t exaggerate. Hardly his life. The year will be done in December, so that might be closer to the mark if he feels anything for me like you’re describing.”
“Lady Catherine, he dotes on you, he does. Were it a thousand years ago he’d happily mount a horse and joust to win your hand.”
“Now I don’t know if I’m blushing from the heat or your description of Skitt’s adoration. Thank you, Tavy. I’ll have another.” She returned the empty glass to the tray and picked up a full one. Tavy disappeared among the gowns, suits, and uniforms. Catherine stood and sipped as she gazed over the room.
“A beautiful woman left without an escort? What is England coming to?”
A tall, broad-shouldered officer in a dark-blue uniform was smiling at her, his eyes a brilliant blue and his face tanned like a golden sunrise. He bowed slightly. “Terrence Fordyce. I hope I’m addressing Lady Catherine Moore.”
“You are, Leftenant Commander.”
“Ah, you recognize the insignia.”
“My brother Edward was Royal Navy during the war.” She offered him a smile. “Did you come by your tan on Channel duty?”
He laughed. “That’s not likely, is it? I was on the world tour with the HMS Hood. Australian sun blessed us, not to mention the Californian sun and the Jamaican sun. I had to leave the Hood in Canada and come across to Devonport on another ship. Naval business to attend to.”
“When will the Hood be back in England?”
“I’d say September.” He reached out for her empty glass. “May I take that for you?”<
br />
“Thank you.”
“Would you like another?”
“I’m quite all right, thank you.”
Fordyce went to the tables and returned. “Now your hands are free.”
“So they are.”
“May I have the honor of this dance?”
“Certainly, Leftenant Commander.” Catherine was immediately conscious of the cologne Fordyce was using—a spicy scent she enjoyed. She caught whiffs of it as they moved about the dance floor. His hand on her back was firm but gentle, his footsteps sure and smooth, his grip on her hand warm. He didn’t move as spiritedly as Skitt had because he didn’t have the younger man’s energy, but there was grace and dignity in his large circles over the dance floor that she liked. When the dance was done and he asked her for another, she said yes. This went on for several dances until her father showed up at Fordyce’s shoulder.
“May I cut in?” he asked.
“Of course, Lord Preston.” Fordyce stepped back. “Enjoy your waltz, sir.”
“I shall indeed. Fordyce, isn’t it? Family in Dover?”
“Yes, m’lord.”
“Your father and mother have been good friends to the Danforths over the years. I’m very glad to see you here tonight.”
“Thank you, m’lord.”
“I shan’t hold on to her long.”
Lord Preston swept his daughter wildly into the middle of the room, several couples having to dodge as they swung near.
“What’s this about, Father?” she asked. “I was enjoying myself.”
“Believe me, the last thing I want to do is spoil your evening. It’s a breath of fresh air to your mother and me to see you out on the dance floor.”
“Then why did you steal me away?”
“So I could tell you who he is.”
Catherine groaned. “I suppose he’s a rake.”
“Quite the opposite. I know what’s going on with his career from my naval connections. He’s bound for big things, so my advice is that if you like him even a bit, hang on to him.”
“Hang on to him? I’ve just met him. I don’t even know him.”
