Beneath the Dover Sky

by Murray Pura

  “I’m not interested.”

  “Maybe one of them will change your mind.” She glanced at him and noted his clenched jaw and tight lips. “Don’t be a martyr, Terry. I count on your cheerfulness. Come back to me, but don’t come back to me sour.”

  Port of Dover

  “We cannot have a trade agreement with the communists in Moscow! Only Ramsay MacDonald could think that was a good idea. Ramsay MacDonald and his Labor Bolsheviks.” Edward paused as people in the packed hall cheered. “If I am elected, I will help form a Conservative government with Stanley Baldwin once more at the helm. Then we will tear up that agreement. We will have no trade with those revolutionaries—those assassins whose hands were dipped in blood with the murder of Tsar Nicholas and his family, even his children! I say it again: No trade with the murderers and Bolsheviks!”

  The audience erupted into applause again. Edward waited for the roar to subside. “But I don’t want you to send me to Westminster just to deal with the Red Menace, important as that is for the future of Great Britain. I also want to do something for Dover. I want to do something for you—the workingman—and for your children and your grandchildren. More shipping, more across-the-Channel traffic. A bigger harbor—a deeper harbor and a more protected harbor.”

  Men jumped to their feet, clapping and waving their hats in the air. “I want a port second to none in Great Britain! I want a port that will bring prosperity to Dover! I call upon you to send me to Westminster so I may ensure a Conservative government puts money into you and into our harbor. I call upon you to send me to Westminster so I may ensure a Conservative government that will pour money into our harbor!”

  Edward tried to continue but the applause drowned out his words. He smiled and lifted his hands. Finally he shouted, “A vote for me on October twenty-ninth is a vote for Britain and the British people! God save the king!”

  Fordyce made his way through the crush of bodies and managed to shake Edward’s hand and slap him on the back. “Well done, Lord Edward. A great speech.”

  Edward grinned. “Thanks, Fordyce. I have to give another seven or eight tomorrow, so keep me in your prayers.”

  “We’ll pop by the flat after you’re free of all this to say hullo, and then Lady Catherine and I are heading out.”

  Enthusiastic men and women jostled Edward and called out his name. He kept smiling and shaking hands as he spoke with Fordyce. “Actually, I’m not going back to the house. I’m taking the car to Deal. I have a meeting there in an hour and another at seven in the morning. I was going to ask if you wouldn’t mind taking Charlotte and Owen to Dover Sky with you. I’ll be gone a week, and I’d like them to be with family.”

  “Why of course! I’ll collect them right away. Where are they?”

  “Just at the back. I’ll be over to say goodbye once I’m finished here. I won’t be but five minutes.”

  Fordyce struggled through the well-wishers. He’d just broken clear when Catherine slipped up beside him and kissed him on the cheek.

  “There, that’s done. I’m ready for my coffee right after we say hullo to Char.”

  Fordyce gave her a cold look. His voice was clipped. “We’re to ferry Char and Owen to Dover Sky straightaway. Your brother is driving over to Deal when he’s done here, and he’ll be gone a week. He wants his wife and child safe and sound at the estate.”

  “I see.” She hesitated. “Well, that only makes sense, doesn’t it?” She held his arm. “Cheer up. I’ll have Norah fix us up a pot of coffee when we get home, and we’ll squirrel away in the den. It’ll be better than a coffee shop or restaurant. And you’ll have me all to yourself.”

  “Will I? We can’t leave Charlotte on her own, can we? How hospitable would that be?”

  “I thought you liked her.”

  “I do. She’s wonderful. Edward married a gem. But I’ll not be able to get away for another month—not until Guy Fawkes—and I’d hoped you and I could have a good talk.”

  “Terry, we can. I—”

  “Oh, there you two are! Cheers!” Charlotte stood in front of them wearing a red dress with a matching red hat and feather. “I hear you’re my cab. I really don’t want to put you two out. We’d be perfectly happy at our flat while Edward’s gone. He gets terribly old-fashioned about things like this.”

  Fordyce found his best smile quickly. “Nonsense, Char. If it were me, I’d want the same thing for my wife and son. Where’s your boy? Where’s the luggage?”

  “Owen’s with the Conservative Party’s secretary for this district and probably getting horseback rides on Mr. Tippin’s back, I’m sure. Poor man.” She smiled. “I’m afraid we’ll have to drop by the flat for the luggage, Terry. It’s all terribly inconvenient. Edward just came up with this plan before he got up to speak so there’s nothing packed.”

  “That’s all right. We’ll wait while you get ready.”

  “I’m dreadfully sorry.”

  “Not at all.” He glanced about. “I’ll fetch Owen and give Edward a wave. That’ll be his cue to make his way through the multitudes to the parking lot. Come along, you two.”

  Charlotte walked beside Catherine. “He’s a lot more chipper than I’d be if someone had ruined my plans for the evening.”

  “Yes,” Catherine replied. “Terry can reach deep down into his sea chest and usually find the right hat to wear.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean he rises to the occasion.”

  “Well, the very least I can do is leave you two to yourselves once we’re at Dover Sky. I’ll tuck Owen in and read to him. Then I’ll—”

  Catherine put her arm through Charlotte’s. “I shouldn’t bother hiding away on our account. I doubt Terry will stay very long after he’s seen us safely home.”

  “Why not? It’s only eight now.”

  Catherine shook her head. “He’ll be on his way back to the fleet.”

  “Something up? I thought he’d move heaven and earth to be with you for a few hours.”

  “We had…um…we had a bit of a disagreement on the way here. The Hood’s going south to the Med after Christmas and won’t be back till spring.”

  “What? Then all the more reason for the pair of you to spend all the time you can together.”

  “Yes, well, once Owen is settled in and Terry leaves, you and I can have tea together and I’ll explain the winter and rough weather of taking a fancy to Lord Preston’s daughter Catherine. At the most unfortunate times, I get my Danforth up.”

  When they arrived at Dover Sky, Terry pulled up to the front door. He escorted the women and boy to the front door, went back and brought Charlotte’s bags in and left them with the poker-faced Skitt. Then he tipped his officer’s hat to Charlotte and Catherine, and headed back into the sheets of rain. He got behind the steering wheel and drove away.

  “You were right about that, weren’t you?” Charlotte sat in a corner of the library ten minutes later, a model of the clipper ship Cutty Sark on the shelf above her head. “Terry didn’t let any grass grow under his heels.”

  Catherine poured from a Royal Doulton teapot. “He’s hurt.”

  “Will you explain?”

  Skitt had started a small blaze in the fireplace, and a log snapped twice and hissed.

  Catherine wrapped her hands around her teacup but didn’t drink. “It’s not hard, really. He wanted me to wait for him faithfully with a stiff upper lip while he’s down at Gibraltar and Malta and who knows where. I told him I couldn’t. And I can’t, Char. We’re not married. We’re not even engaged. We’ve scarcely kissed.”

  “I—”

  “One moment. I’ve been two years in the tomb waiting for Albert to resurrect. I walked out of that tomb with Sean in my arms this past summer when I realized I was the one who needed the resurrection. I can’t go back into the tomb, Char. Not for Terry, not for anyone. It would kill me.”

  Charlotte didn’t drink either. “I think I understand.”

  “Terry doesn’t. But then he s
carcely knows me. He thinks he does, but he doesn’t. I’m more stubborn than he realizes. I’m not in a hurry to find a man, not even for Sean’s sake. And I’ve got a fighter’s streak running through me as thick as the cable that holds HMS Hood in place. I can’t sit at Dover Sky all winter waiting for him to return from sea with Drake and Raleigh and Nelson. I want to go to the theater, eat at restaurants where crystal chimes and forks and knives make a great clatter because people are happy all around me. I want to go to concerts in London, get a glimpse of the king and queen in their royal box, and walk under the cliffs at Dover with someone other than Aunt Holly.”

  Charlotte slipped her a smile. “And other than your sister-in-law?”

  “I adore you, Char. For that matter, I adore Holly too. But yes, I want to hear a man’s footsteps beside me. I want to smell his cologne, have his hand take my arm if I stumble, take in that lovely man scent I’ve missed so much—the tweed, the pipe tobacco, the leather gloves and shoes. I miss manliness, Char. I’m starved for it, and I shan’t be without just because the navy likes a Mediterranean sun more than four months of English rain.”

  Charlotte put her teacup to her lips. “Why didn’t you stay at Ashton Park if you wanted people and men around you?”

  “No, no, no!” Catherine put her teacup down. “Not brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and lords and ladies. Different people…different men.”

  “What men?”

  “I don’t know. There’s a couple of nice chaps who attend the church in Dover. Also an army officer or two. A sexton from Canterbury Cathedral I met seemed nice. I don’t want anything serious or dramatic, Char. But I want to be treated like a lady by a man. Once a week would be just perfect…or twice.”

  “So you don’t love Terry?”

  Catherine was silent for a moment. “I love his easy ways and his big smile and his uniform, but I don’t want a ring or a proposal from him anytime soon. I won’t wait by the pier for his return. I’m no nineteenth-century painting with the title ‘A Woman Longs for Her Sailor.’ ” She lifted her cup and drank. “Not much of a widow, am I?”

  “You were a very good widow in ’22 and ’23 and most of ’24.”

  “Was I? What am I now?”

  “A very good lady.”

  “Hmm.” Catherine glanced at the ship model as another log cracked and spat. “I suppose I’ve changed, but I can’t help it. It was either change or turn to dust.” She smiled at Charlotte. “What about you? You’re an election widow. How does that feel?”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “I’ll be so glad when I don’t have to be introduced to noisy crowds anymore.” She glanced at Catherine. “Election night will be a fright, but I can’t wait for it to arrive. What a relief to have the campaigning over and done.”

  “Will Edward win in Dover, do you think?”

  “Don’t I pray for that? I hope God doesn’t mind, but an unelected Edward will drive me ’round the bend. He needs to be in the House making his speeches and arguing with whomever dares to cross swords with him. Please, Lord, not a mansion on the hill like Dover Sky or a yacht at the dock like Lord Preston. Just a plain, ordinary seat in the British Parliament is all I’m asking for Edward.”

  “Amen! Well, here’s to election night and that God’s will be done. Only two weeks left to go. More tea?”

  “Please. Is it still hot?”

  “Very. I parked it by Skitt’s fire.”

  Election Night, 1924

  “Hullo, Mum. It’s Charlotte. I’ve been trying to reach you all night.”

  “The lines are jammed all over Britain with the election,” Lady Preston replied. “Are you calling from Edward’s office?”

  “It’s a complete madhouse in that headquarters of his. I finally fled an hour ago. The nanny’s with us overnight, so at least Owen didn’t have to endure all those cigars and cigarettes and pipes. My eyes are still red and puffy.”

  “I understand. For years I attended election night frenzies with William until I’d had enough and decided to stay home with the children. I’d advise you to remain at home until Edward finally wanders in at four in the morning. How are things looking for him?”

  “I don’t know. Edward’s crew is happy one moment and worried the next. They keep changing numbers on the chalkboard. Newspapermen dash in and out as if they’re delivering military communiqués that will determine the fate of the Great War. The battery of phones is always ringing off the hook. Clouds and clouds of smoke. Everything made me quite dizzy. I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m sure we’re holding our own against Labor. How about Dad? What’s happening with him?”

  “He thought he could manage things from Ashton Park with the one phone. Well, he kept losing the connection or else he couldn’t get through to his people in the city. I finally shooed him out the door. Todd drove him into Liverpool to his campaign office. I’ve heard from him once since then. He said he thought things were a bit dicey. Then he got cut off.”

  “Oh, Mum, I don’t know what we’ll do if we lose. Edward has his heart set on joining his father at Westminster.”

  “Don’t fret, my dear. Believe me, I’ve been through plenty of close elections in my time. The Lord has a way of working things out one way or the other. Even if Edward doesn’t win, he’d still be his father’s parliamentary assistant.”

  “That won’t satisfy Edward anymore. He wants to debate, make speeches, cast a vote in the House, make policy.”

  “Yes, yes, just like William—down to the nose on his face. We can only wait and pray, Charlotte. The votes are being counted all over the kingdom. It will be the wee hours of the morning before anyone gets a good grasp of things. Call me the minute you know anything for certain.”

  “All right.”

  Election Night

  Port of Dover

  Charlotte Danforth lay on her back on the bed. The clock in the hall downstairs struck three. She punched her pillow, put it under her head, put it over her head, and then finally tossed it onto the floor. She cradled her head on her arms. She was able to drift off for a few minutes in this position, but the dream was unpleasant. Edward had lost and had taken to drink. She found him wandering by the Dover docks with a bottle of gin in his hand and tears rolling down his face.

  “Ah, don’t cry, my love,” she pleaded, throwing her arms around him. “We’ll be all right. We’ll get back on our feet.”

  “We won’t,” he rasped.

  “We will! I swear we will. How many elections have we had in the past few years? Three? Four? Another’s bound to come along soon, and when it does you’ll run again and win. You’ll win, Edward!”

  His watery eyes struggled to focus on her. “Are you…are you a…a lady of the evening?”

  Charlotte sat up and put a hand to her face. “That was nasty,” she mumbled. She got up and got dressed. I’m not going to risk another dream like that, Lord. I’m going down there. And whatever’s happened, we’ll deal with it, that’s all.

  The door to Owen’s room was ajar, and she peeked in. The nanny was asleep in the bed by Owen’s crib. The two-year-old was curled up under his quilt, eyes shut, breathing softly. She made her way quietly downstairs, took her woolen peacoat from the rack, tugged it on, added a black scarf, and headed outside.

  “Brrrr.” She brought black leather gloves out of the pocket of her coat and pulled them on. “What a time of year to have an election.”

  Her boots made a snip-snap, snip-snap sound on the cement as she walked. The streets were dark and deserted. She put up the high collar of her jacket against the cold. Finally she reached an avenue lit by lamps and slowed down, enjoying the amber glow in the cold blackness. She dreaded turning into the narrow side street that made its way to the waterfront and Edward’s tiny office. She’d been there earlier in the evening, and but for the light from the office windows it felt like being in the coal mine she’d visited as a little girl. She could almost taste the coal dust. The empty shops looked like the shored up
walls of the mine. It made her feel hemmed in.

  “Ma’am? Mrs. Danforth? Lady Charlotte?”

  She’d barely emerged into the open by Edward’s office when a man barreled into her. His hat was crooked, his tie askew, his eyes wide and a huge, a wild smile creased his face.

  “Mr. Gibbons!” She was startled by his appearance. “Are you all right? Is anything wrong?”

  “Wrong? Wrong?” He gripped her shoulders and laughed, his breath almost knocking her over. “A landslide! Right across the country! More than four hundred seats. That’s how it’s shaping up, m’lady! Labor’s out and the Liberals…why, the Liberals have lost three hundred seats and are down to forty! It’s not settled yet, but that’s what’s shaping up. That’s what the phones and the newspapermen are telling us!” He let out a whoop and hurled his hat into the night. “We have a Tory government!” Running past the silent shops he disappeared into an alley still hollering with joy.

  “What about my husband?” she called after him, but he didn’t turn around or offer an answer.

  Edward’s office was only a block away now. Light was spilling out of the open door into the street, and people were milling about, arms waving, voices loud, laughter and squeals and singing echoing off the buildings. She heard her husband speaking, his words ringing out. She pushed through the crowd to get inside.

  “An amazing evening, an historic evening! Yes, a miraculous evening! Don’t you think so? A miracle happened in Britain tonight!” Edward’s voice was strong with certainty. The people’s roar was so overwhelming Charlotte instantly thought of a rugby game or football match. The room was packed with bodies, and she could get no further than the doorway. She stood as tall as she could while the cheering went on, even going up on her toes hoping Edward would notice her. He didn’t. He was reaching down to shake hands while women hugged him and newspapermen were shouting in his ear.

  You look so handsome, so young, so alive, so ready to take on the world! Charlotte thought. She unwrapped the scarf from her neck and pulled the high collar of her peacoat down from her face. She drew her hair out from under her coat, shook her head, and let the blackness fall over her shoulders. I’m here, my darling. I’m with you! Looking up, she saw him staring over the crowd in her direction.