Beneath the Dover Sky

by Murray Pura

  One thing we Danforths are united about is praying daily for protection against Lord Buchanan’s villainy. He told Edward he still hopes to destroy us. We can only place Christ between ourselves and his darkness. Thank goodness Mother and Father don’t know the half of it.

  But on to pleasanter things. Terry and Albrecht. What to do? I see Terry two or three times a month, and I enjoy his company very much. Albrecht writes every week, and his letters are beautiful to read. He’s so articulate. Cornelia, I wonder if he isn’t in love with me? Not infatuated but actually in love? I haven’t given him an answer on going on the sabbatical trip with him. I can’t decide what to do. I think I’d adore being in his company every day, just as I was in Switzerland. Terry will be on the Hood somewhere in the Med during that time. I’d still need to have a chaperone of some sort or Papa and Edward would become positively unstable. It seems ridiculous at my age, but there you are. Who on earth would the chaperone be?

  Well, I can’t equivocate forever, much as it seems I should like to. Albrecht and the baron are paying a visit on the tenth of September, a Friday, and staying the weekend, which is grand. What answer I can give Albrecht about the sabbatical is a different matter. I must continue to pray, read my Bible, and go to church. Perhaps God’s light will shine in with the answer. Albrecht and I have been very close in the past. Perhaps I gave my kisses too freely, but I did think of him as the only man in my life a year ago. Now I must be more careful and discreet. Explaining why to my theologian won’t be easy.

  One bright spot! Albrecht’s book has been translated into English, and he’s bringing me a copy! We can use it to set the mood by talking about it and praying together before we do anything else. That, I hope, will help the rest fall into place. Don’t you think?

  “Here it is! Voila! as the French say.”

  Albrecht handed Catherine a square package. They were standing by a dry fence of fieldstones Skitt and Harrison had erected to the west of the manor of Dover Sky.

  “This is exciting!” She ripped at the brown paper and string with her fingers. “Em and Vic always open things so carefully. They try to save the fancy paper Christmas presents are wrapped in. I’ve never been able to do that.” The book finally was in her hands, and she dropped the torn paper and broken string on the grass. “The book jacket is wonderful, Albrecht! Mountains, a sunrise, a cross on a peak…is this Pura?”

  “Yes.”

  “My Spirit. What a wonderful title. What is that in German?”

  “Mein Geitz.”

  “And Hitler’s is Mein Kampf, which translates as My Struggle. How are your book sales compared to his?”

  “I suppose I sell one to every three of his.”

  “Isn’t that still good?”

  “Ja, ja. It’s just a question of how much we’re reaching the German people. And while Hitler’s message is covering a lot of ground, so is mine.” He opened the book to the third page as she held it. “Look here.”

  This book is dedicated to the German people. And to C.F.D., without whom its grace and breadth and depth would not have been possible.

  Catherine immediately felt heat creeping up from her neck and spreading over her face. “My goodness, Albrecht. I haven’t blushed like this since I was sixteen and thought I was in love with one of the Coldstream Guards at Windsor Castle. Why did you do me such an honor? All I did was proofreading duties.”

  “No, Catherine, you did much more than that. I value you as a friend, and as a thinker, and as a woman with a rich heart.”

  “You’re making my blush worse, Albrecht. Who told you what my middle initial is?”

  “Your father. He mentioned you once by calling you Catherine Faith. It’s an extraordinary name and utterly who you are, so I’ve remembered it ever since.”

  “Thank you. I don’t know what else to say. I shall read the book, of course.”

  “And keep a pen and pad of paper by your hand so you can make note of misspellings and poor grammatical structure, yes? Those can be fixed when the book gets reprinted.”

  She laughed. “I suppose I shall.” She opened the book in the middle and read a paragraph. She looked up at Albrecht. “And what is Herr Hitler doing these days?”

  “Not much. Germany is coming along well—the best we’ve been since the war. He’s toned down his rhetoric and likes to portray himself as a moderate. Regardless, his Nazi Party continues to hold very few seats in the government, in the Reichstag, and no one appears much interested in him anymore.”

  “That’s good.”

  Albrecht shrugged and gazed at a horse cropping grass on the other side of the stone fence. “Yet his book is selling, and membership in the Nazi Party is growing by tens of thousands each year. So what is really going on in Germany, hmm? Suppose we encounter economic struggles again. Would he gain in popularity?”

  “If he does, you’ll just have to write another book to counter his influence, won’t you?”

  “Oh, ja. Just like that you think?”

  “Why not? You have the mind for it…and the spirit.”

  “Ah, Catherine, you have such confidence in me.” He placed his hand over one of hers. “Come to the mountains with me. Please. You mean so much to me. I adore you.”

  “Albrecht, I—I can’t just drop everything…”

  “I know you have your brother and his wife to welcome back from several years in America. Naturally you must be at Dover Sky for that. And there is that naval officer to see. He will be going south to the Mediterranean in January, yes?”

  Her face burned again. “Yes, Terry will be on the Hood. I didn’t know you knew him.”

  “I’ve never met him, but it’s no great secret that he’s in your life. Catherine, it’s not a surprise. How could a rose of such beauty like you go unnoticed year after year? I can’t blame him for falling in love with you. I can’t blame any man.”

  “He has never spoken of love or marriage, Albrecht.”

  “But his love is revealed in his eyes, isn’t it?”

  She flipped through pages in the book without responding.

  “Catherine, I am not a jealous man. Any attention another pays you is just a confirmation in my heart and mind that what I see in you is not based on some wild Teutonic notion of romance. It pleases me to know others understand what I understand and admire about you. I am acknowledging that you will want to bid him a proper farewell when he leaves for his sea duties.” He kissed her hand. “Then please do me the honor of coming away with me to Pura and, in the spring, the Rhine.”

  “What are you proposing?”

  “That the baron and I come and get you after your friend has sailed. We will go to Switzerland together and reside in the chalet until Easter. At that time, we will embark by boat for a spring journey down the Rhine. A delightfully slow journey to appreciate the beauty of the country and our time together. When we reach my family home, we can stay there for some time. My parents would like to meet you. And I promise there will be a few surprises along the way—pleasant ones, I assure you. Please say yes.”

  “It sounds like you plan for us to be gone a long time.”

  “Until June or July. And Sean must join us, of course. The horses will be watching for him in Pura.”

  Catherine smiled into his intense eyes and serious face. “It sounds splendid, Albrecht. And Sean would love to join us, not only for the white horses but to go on a long boat ride. He’d love to see ancient castles. Yet you are speaking of being gone six months. I can’t conceive of it without a member of my family along as an escort to save us from public scrutiny and scandal. But everyone has lives of their own, and six months is a long time to ask someone to accompany us. That’s half of 1927!”

  He nodded. “I understand completely. Are you averse to spending the winter at Pura in the company of the baron and me like you did last year? Our servants would be there as well, of course.”

  “No, I feel quite all right about that. But to extend our time together another three months on some s
ort of river cruise? No, I feel that is much too much.”

  “What if your mother were to join us for the journey down the Rhine?”

  Catherine stared. “My mother? You’re joking. I don’t think she’d leave Father. And she loves having Vic and Ben there. And now they have the baby Timothy Mum dotes on, and young Ramsay, of course. She would never agree.”

  Albrecht brought a letter out of the pocket of his suit jacket and gave it to her. “Read this,” he said with a smile.

  My dear Professor Hartmann,

  Thank you so much for broaching the subject of the Rhine tour directly to me and not through my daughter Catherine. I have talked things over with Lord Preston and also with my youngest daughter, Victoria. We have all prayed about the matter and are in agreement. I shall join you most gladly. Victoria and her children also accept your kind invitation. We will plan to meet you at Dover Sky the first Monday after Easter.

  We look forward to the Rhine journey very much. We will, of course, bring two of our servants to see to our needs and be a nanny to the children. I shall ring up Catherine about the matter.

  I do look forward to seeing the baron again and to meeting your mother and father.

  You are most kind.

  Lady Preston

  “I don’t know what to say.” Catherine read the letter a second time. “Should I be angry that you went behind my back and orchestrated this? Or should I be grateful you cleared up all the messiness that created an obstacle to my joining you?”

  “If it’s any consolation, it was the baron’s idea. He felt it would spare you a great deal of stress and confusion.”

  “Hmm. Does he tell you what to do, Albrecht?”

  “Not at all. But he knows how much I’d hoped to spend time with you. So he suggested I approach the matron of the family herself. I was well aware if she said no that nothing would come of my hopes and plans. Even now with her approval, you are free to say yes or no. I’m well aware of that and accept the risk.”

  “I see.” She handed the letter back to him. “Well, I don’t feel any anger whatsoever. If anything I feel relieved. I can sit in the chalet at Pura and look at the mountains if I like. I can go along the Rhine in a boat if I wish. I can say hullo to my sister Libby and goodbye to my friend the naval officer. As my mother wrote, you are too kind.”

  A smile moved over Albrecht’s lips. “So you are saying yes?”

  She swatted him on the shoulder with the book. “It’s only so I can have the time to read this through from cover to cover and make notes on it.”

  “And what about the author?”

  She tapped My Spirit against his cheek. “You may use the months in Switzerland and on the river to introduce me to him again.”

  Train Station, Port of Dover

  Lord Preston slapped his gloves against his pant leg. “The train should be here by now.”

  Catherine had her arm through his. “My goodness, Dad, it’s not due for another five minutes.”

  “Are you sure we have the date right?”

  “Of course. Tuesday, the twelfth of October. Stop fretting.”

  “I wanted to be in the House today. Lord Buchanan and Labor are up to more mischief.”

  Lady Preston had his other arm. “The prime minister can handle the situation. So can Edward.”

  He peered down the track. “Why all this nonsense? ‘Meet us at Dover.’ Why couldn’t they have taken a ship that docked at Liverpool and be done with it? What does Dover have to do with it?”

  “They want to be at Dover Sky, Father.”

  “Whatever for? Why is the whole world moving to Dover Sky? First you, and then Lady Caroline, and then Kipp’s son Matthew, and now this. Absurd.” He took out his pocket watch and snapped back the silver lid. “Ha!”

  “What, Papa?” Catherine giggled. “Two minutes to go, and you can’t see the smoke?”

  “It’s no laughing matter, my dear. We don’t even know where they docked. Why all the secrecy? I feel as if we’re in the middle of something cooked up by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.”

  “I’m Watson then, Dad. You can be Sherlock. And Mum is the landlady—what’s her name?”

  Lady Preston patted her husband’s arm. “There, William. Is that what you were anxious to see, my dear?”

  Black smoke smudged the horizon.

  “Ah!” Lord Preston snapped open his watch a second time. “Late.”

  Catherine grinned and hugged his arm. “By what? Thirty seconds?”

  “Thirty-five.”

  “Think of it, Father. We haven’t seen them in three years. How exciting to have the train pulling into the station now.”

  “Yes—if indeed they are on it. I could do with a little less cloak and dagger and a spot more frank and open declaration of the reasons for the odd nature of their return from America.”

  “Soon all will be made known. I thank God they’ve come back to us.”

  A smile played on Lord Preston’s lips. “I do thank Him for that too. I do praise Him.”

  The locomotive slid past and the brakes screeched. White steam tumbled over the platform. Doors of coaches opened and people climbed out. Lord Preston glanced quickly up and down the length of the train.

  “Can you see them?” he asked. “Can you see them?”

  “No, they’re not…There they are!” Catherine pulled free of her father and pointed. “Down near the end.”

  Lady Preston squinted. “Why, Libby is dressed so…so American—her hat, her jacket, her pearls.”

  “Oh, Mum, she looks pretty. And Michael is such a handsome sight in the suit and hat he’s wearing.”

  “He looks American as well.”

  “He is American. Come on! I can’t wait here for them.” Catherine rushed down the platform ahead of her parents and caught Libby in her arms. They hugged and laughed and kissed each other’s cheeks. Then Catherine put her arms around Michael. “How marvelous you both look!” she exclaimed. “I can’t believe it. You’re here in England. It’s been ages.”

  Libby smiled. “If we’re marvelous, you must be spectacular. Look at her, Michael!”

  He kissed Catherine on the forehead. “She’s a real doll, all right. Did you miss us?”

  “Did we ever! Ben will be doing handsprings.”

  “I’m more than ready to help run the airline again.” He patted Catherine on the back. “Here’s your mum and dad, Libby.”

  “Ah, Michael! Splendid!” Lord Preston stretched out his hand, and Michael shook it. “How was the voyage? How was the train ride?”

  “Fine, William. You’re looking very well.”

  “Thank you! I try to walk every evening when I’m in London.”

  Lady Preston was hugging Libby. “Your hair is so short, but I must admit it looks just right. My, you’ve lost weight.”

  “Hullo, Mum. I guess I’ve been away from English cooking far too long.” She hugged her mother back. “You look younger than when I left.”

  “Now I know America did something to you, my darling. It’s a good thing you’re back here to stay.”

  “Who do we have here?” Lord Preston smiled at a dark-eyed young woman wearing a dark dress who was standing behind Michael and Libby. “Are you with Libby and Michael?”

  She curtsied in her dark dress. “I am, sir. My name is Lucy, but everyone calls me Montgomery.”

  “Ah. And which do you prefer?”

  “Montgomery, if you please, my lord.”

  “Then Montgomery it shall be. And who is this?”

  A young Chinese girl in a green dress was holding Montgomery’s hand and staring at Lord Preston.

  “Father.” Libby came and stood behind the young girl, resting her hands gently on her thin shoulders. “This is Jane. She has so looked forward to meeting you and Mum. She’s nine.”

  “All right!” Lord Preston crouched. “Hello, my dear. Welcome to England.”

  The girl smiled so suddenly and so brightly that Lady Preston exclaimed, “Oh my, how sweet she is! W
ho is she? Why is she in your company? Where is her family?”

  “We are her family, Mum.”

  “I beg your pardon, dear?”

  Michael walked over to take Libby’s hand. He stroked Jane’s shiny black hair.

  “She is Jane Danforth Woodhaven,” said Libby. “She is our daughter.”

  10

  January–May, 1927

  Plymouth and Devonport, Southern England

  “I feel like I’m going to lose you.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic, Terry.” Catherine wiped a raindrop off his cheek with her gloved fingers. “We’ve seen quite a lot of each other, haven’t we? And once you’re back from the Med, I’m sure we’ll see a lot of each other again.”

  “Are you positive?”

  “As sure as I can be right now.”

  “A boat trip down the Rhine sounds pretty…well…”

  “With my mother and sister in tow, along with Victoria’s two children. Hardly a recipe for a Hollywood romance.”

  Fordyce held the large black umbrella closer to her head as the wind gusted and the downpour increased. “A man will find a way to your heart. I know I would in that situation.”

  “Terry, he’s very old world, very German, and a theologian from a prestigious university. I’m not going to be stuck on a boat with Don Juan.”

  “He cares about you as much as I do, doesn’t he?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Then how can you say nothing will happen?”

  “Excuse me, sir.” A sailor in a peacoat came to attention behind them and saluted. “Your presence aboard is requested. We will be weighing anchor in under an hour.”

  Fordyce turned, straightened, and returned the salute. “Very well.”

  The sailor saluted again, paused as Terry returned the salute, and then left.