A Refuge at Highland Hall (13 page)

Triumph surged through Alex. “That's it!”

Meddis turned and gave him the thumbs-up again.

Alex passed by, then circled around, rising higher. Penny's image flashed into his mind, then the frightened faces of the children as they hid in the servants' hall while bombs fell on London. He set his jaw, determined to do everything in his power to protect them and make sure the Zeppelin below never threatened his friends and family again.

When he reached five thousand feet, he shouted to Meddis, “Hold on!” Then he turned and plunged the plane toward the air shed. The nerves of his arms tingled, and his heartbeat thrummed with the roar of the engine. The timing had to be perfect. He held his breath, gripped the toggle wire, and released the first bomb. As soon as he felt it drop, he released the second.

Gripping the controls, he pulled up and shot past the air shed, releasing the third bomb for good measure.

A huge explosion rocked the plane, quickly followed by a second blast. Alex held on tight and looked over his shoulder. A giant sheet of flames rose from the roof of the shed, and smoke billowed out around it.

Meddis shouted and waved his arms in the air, a victorious smile wreathing his red face. “We
did
it!”

Relief pulsed through Alex. They'd made a direct hit. The fire would most likely destroy the air shed and the Zeppelin inside. He could return to Antwerp and refuel, then head back to St. Pol, the mission complete.

Alex strode across the airfield toward the dining hall. It had been a long day. His shoulders ached, and his breakfast had worn off hours ago. He pushed open the wooden door and walked inside. The conversations of his fellow pilots and mechanics filled the room with a low hum. The scent of roasting meat and baking bread drifted past and made his empty stomach rumble.

He looked toward the kitchen. “Hastings, is there any dinner left?”

The portly man looked up from behind the serving counter. “Yes, sir. I'll have a plate ready in just a minute.” Hastings turned away and bustled across the small kitchen at the end of the hall.

“Goodwin, a letter came for you.” Fletcher pointed toward the corner where the mailbag lay on a table, with a few envelopes scattered around.

“Thanks.” He crossed the room and sorted through the letters until he found one with his name inscribed across the front in fine, feminine handwriting. He turned it over, read Penny's name, and smiled, then he tore it open and settled onto the closest chair.

July 8, 1915

Dear Alex,

Thank you for your letter. It was wonderful to hear you are safe and your missions are going well. I wish you could tell me more, but I understand you aren't allowed to share the details of your flights. I have been reading the newspaper each day to stay up on the latest information about the war. There have been a few articles that mention our wonderfully brave aviators and their exploits. I didn't realize we had two branches of our military taking on missions in the air. Do the Royal Flying Corps and Royal Naval Air Service share airfields? Do you ever see the RFC planes and pilots when you are on a mission? I'm not sure if you can answer those questions, but I'm eager to learn more about your work and the RNAS.

He grinned. Penny was not only thinking of him, she wanted to understand how his work fit into the scheme of things. That pleased him more than he would've expected.

We are doing well here at Highland, though Kate is still not feeling well, so I try to take as much responsibility for the children as she will allow. She just received word that Jon is coming home for two days, and that lifted her spirits. It will be such a relief to have him here, and I know it will be a great comfort to Kate.

Alex lowered the letter. He was glad for Jon. It sounded like his wife needed time with him. His thoughts shifted to his own hope to travel back to England and visit Penny at Highland. But with the limited number of pilots and the needs here at St. Pol, he doubted it would be any time soon. The way things stood now, he might not see Penny until the war was over.

That sent his spirits into a nosedive. He closed his eyes and tried to shake it off. Though he'd only known Penny a short time, he couldn't deny his growing feelings for her. Did she feel the same, or did she write to him only as a friend, hoping to boost his morale? He pushed away that question and looked at the letter again.

It was very kind of you to send your greetings to the children. I passed them along, and they were quite happy to receive them. They ask about you often, and they wanted you to know they continue to pray for you and wish you well.

They are adjusting to life here at Highland, and I must say country life seems to agree with them. They all have rosy cheeks and seem healthy and strong from their time outdoors and the fine meals prepared for them here. We grow much of our own food on the estate, and the shortages are not as evident here in the country.

The boys continue to be a bit of a challenge. It takes a great deal of creative planning to keep them busy. The girls are much easier to oversee. We usually do quiet, indoor activities in the morning. The girls have been knitting scarves and socks for the troops. But there don't seem to be as many practical things the boys can do to contribute to the war effort. If you have any ideas of ways I might keep them busy, please send them along.

He grinned. Keeping boys occupied didn't sound too difficult. They would probably enjoy fishing, hunting, and hikes in the countryside. If he were there, he'd teach them how to take care of themselves in the wilderness, just as his father had taught him. That kind of training helped a boy become a man. But he couldn't very well expect Penny to do that.

Wasn't there a man who could spend some time with the boys and give them the practical guidance they needed?

He supposed most able-bodied men had enlisted, and those still at home were overburdened, trying to do the work of two or three others. He turned to the second sheet of stationery.

You mentioned you might like a photograph, so I'm sending two along. One is from Jon and Kate's wedding, so you can see the whole family, and the other is from my presentation. That's the most recent photograph I have. Try to ignore the two ostrich feathers in my hair. I know they look a bit silly, but they're required court dress. It's hard to believe that photo was taken only a year and a half ago. Being a debutante and taking part in the season seem so far in the past now.

Alex reached for the envelope and looked inside. He pulled out the two photographs and inspected the first. Jon and Kate stood on a beautifully carved wooden stairway dressed in their wedding attire, surrounded by the bridal party and several family members. The photograph must have been taken at Highland Hall on their wedding day. Jon looked proud and handsome, and Kate was a beautiful bride. Penny stood beside Kate, looking as lovely as her sister. It was obviously a happy day for them all.

He glanced at the second photo, and his breath hitched in his chest.

Penny looked out at him, wearing a stunning white gown with a long train draped around her feet. She held a bouquet of flowers and wore long white gloves that reached past her elbows. Her sheer veil, pearl necklace, and earrings made her look like a bride. The fluffy white ostrich feathers tucked in her hair added a regal touch. He studied her expression, unable to tell what she was thinking. There was an air of mystery about her that was very attractive. He carefully laid aside the photos and took up the letter again.

Patriotism is running very high. Everyone is eager to do their part to help the war effort. Several men on our staff and from the village of Fulton have enlisted. William has agreed to allow German prisoners to work on the estate in the fields. It's a bit unsettling, seeing them so close to the house, but there are guards who watch over them.

I only wish there were more I could do, but I am needed here to care for the children and help my sister and Julia. I am trying to be content with that. Please know I pray for you each day and will continue to write. Remember your friends here are very proud of you, thankful for your brave service, and looking forward to having you home again.

With warm thoughts,

Penny

Alex picked up the photograph and studied Penny once more. The sweetness in her expression and the bright hopeful light in her eyes tugged at his heart. Could he win the love of a woman like Penny? Their background and upbringing couldn't be more different. Her family was wealthy and aristocratic, his was middle class and broken by divorce and distance.

But the harsh reality of war made those differences seem less important. He'd overcome every challenge in his training and become a respected pilot in his squadron. Each time he'd faced the enemy, he'd come out on top and made it back to base.

Perhaps it was time he sought a higher prize…

The love of a fine woman with a sweet smile and caring heart.

W
illiam leaned his cue stick against the side of the billiard table and reached underneath for the balls. His brother-in-law, Clark Dalton, lifted a cue stick from the rack on the wall and joined William at the table.

“This will have to be a quick game.” Jon stepped up next to William. “I don't want to leave Kate on her own too long.”

William placed the balls on the table. “I'm glad you've come. I've been worried about her.”

“I had to pull a few strings to get two days off, but I could tell from her letters she's not been herself.”

Clark looked Jon's way. “I know she's not been feeling well…Is everything all right?”

“As far as we can tell, though the baby seems larger than normal for this stage.”

A ripple of unease traveled through William. “Why would that be?”

“We might have estimated the due date incorrectly, or…perhaps there's another reason.” His somber expression hinted at a more serious issue.

William frowned. He didn't like the thought of his cousin Kate facing a problem with her pregnancy, and he was even more aware of the possibility since he and Julia had lost two babies early on. But Jon was a doctor, and Jon's father, who was also a physician, lived only a short distance from Highland. Kate had the best care possible. He pushed away his concerns and placed the balls on the table. He was probably worrying for nothing. “Jon, why don't you start?”

Jon bent and took aim, then cracked the ball and sent it rolling across the green felt tabletop. It bounced off the end and rolled back, but not far enough to reach the baulk.

Clark stepped forward and took the next shot. His ball bounced and rolled back, landing in the perfect spot, close to the end. He looked up and nodded to William. “Your turn.”

William scanned the table, moved to the end, and lined up his shot. He hit the cue ball and sent it down the table, but when it rolled back, it barely made it into the baulk. He was definitely out of practice.

Clark stepped forward and took aim. His cue struck the red ball and sent it into the side pocket. “Three points.” He surveyed the table and chose his next shot.

William turned to Jon. “How are things at the hospital?”

“Very busy. The number of injured men coming in from France has almost doubled in the last few months.”

“Fighting always seems to increase in warm weather.”

“There was another bombing Tuesday on the east coast,” Jon added. “Two Zeppelins made it through this time. They dropped more than forty bombs.”

William gave a grim nod, memories of the newspaper article he'd read flashing through his mind. “Ghastly business.”

“Sixteen killed, fourteen injured. They hit a nursing home for the elderly.”

Clark glared at the table as he took the next shot.

William looked toward Jon. “How is the mood in London?”

“You'd think people would be frightened and worried about the next possible air raid, but anger seems a more common response. They want to strike back.”

Clark looked up. “It's no wonder, when the Germans sneak in at night and drop bombs on the elderly and women and children asleep in their beds.”

William shook his head. “It's hard to believe the King and the Kaiser are first cousins.”

“The King is receiving a lot of criticism because of that connection.” Jon took his shot.

“His father, Prince Albert, was German, the House of Saxe-Coburg.” Clark's tone revealed his feelings about the matter.

“I don't think we can blame the King for that.” William took a shot, but his ball missed the pocket.

“No, but anti-German feelings are very strong now.”

Jon set up for the next shot. “I never imagined the war would go on this long. Remember how everyone said our troops would be home by Christmas? Now it's been almost a year.”

“And the end is not in sight.” William watched Jon, but his thoughts were on the discouraging news from the front. “I'm afraid things are only going to get worse.”

Clark looked at William, his gaze growing more intense. “The bombings are bad enough, but when the Germans justify sinking a passenger ship, like the
Lusitania,
and killing more than a thousand men, women, and children…It's unthinkable.”

“We've seen some new types of injuries in the last few months from the chlorine gas the Germans are using.” Jon shook his head. “Blindness and burns.”

Would this terrible war never end? William released a heavy sigh. “I'm afraid battle tactics have sunk to a dreadful new low.”

Clark straightened and his gaze shifted from Jon to William. “So what are we going to do about it?”

William stilled. What was he saying? “We're doing our duty, watching over our families, providing shelter for Kate and the children, growing extra food, and releasing many of our staff so they can volunteer.”

“Is that enough?” Clark's face grew ruddy. “I think I might be called to do more.”

William straightened. “What do you mean?”

“I'm thinking about enlisting.”

William gripped his cue stick. “That would be very hard on Sarah.”

“Yes, it would, but if we want to win this war and preserve our freedom, then more men must step forward and take the place of those who have been injured or killed.”

William looked away from Clark's intense, sorrowful expression. Clark's younger brother, Martin Dalton, had been killed in France at the Battle of Ypres last year. He'd served for only two and a half months before his death. It had been a terrible blow to Clark and his mother, Mrs. Dalton, their housekeeper.

Clark focused on William, his expression intense. “Why should I stay behind when so many others have volunteered?”

“You're doing important work here, and now that we're cultivating extra crops in the parkland, you're overseeing that as well.”

Clark shook his head. “That's not enough.”

“Well, it's enough in my mind.”

“I appreciate that, but McTavish and the older tenant farmers could oversee the work on the grounds and care for the crops. And you have German prisoners to replace the farm laborers.”

Clark was right, but William hated to admit it, for his sister's sake. “Have you spoken to Sarah about it?”

“Not yet. I thought I'd take the train up to Windermere and talk to her in person.”

William looked toward the windows. Clark's decision would be difficult for the family and heartbreaking for Sarah, but how could he discourage his brother-in-law from following his conscience? “So are you asking my permission to enlist?”

Clark straightened. “No, I'm asking for your understanding when I do.”

Clark was a fine man—a dependable, hard-working member of his staff—but he was more than that. He was a caring husband to Sarah, and he'd become a close friend. William would hate to see him go, but determination filled Clark's eyes.

He'd already made his decision.

And no doubt his selfless sister would give her consent and even praise him for it. That thought pushed away his hesitation.

William extended his hand. “You have my support and my promise to watch over Sarah always.”

Clark's expression eased and his dark eyes brightened. He clasped William's hand. “Thank you.”

William nodded and gave Clark's hand a firm shake, but questions stirred in his mind. How would Sarah handle a long separation from her husband? Could McTavish and the other men find the time and energy to care for the grounds and manage the crops in Clark's absence? How many more of his staff, family, and friends would be drawn into the war?

Even more important, how many would return?

Penny glared at her knitting. “Oh, drat, I've dropped another stitch!” She held out the misshapen brown sock toward Lydia.

Lydia leaned forward and inspected the stitches.

Lucy, Edna, Rose, and Susan all looked up from their knitting. The two oldest girls exchanged a smile, then ducked their heads.

Penny's cheeks warmed. How embarrassing! She couldn't even knit as well as Lucy and Edna, who were fifteen and eleven, and they had only learned the skill a few weeks ago.

Penny glanced at ten-year-old Rose. She had almost finished her sock, and it looked perfect. Penny sighed and glared at her sorry work.

Lydia sent her a patient smile. “Just unravel the yarn back to that point, then pick up the stitch, and go on from there.”

Penny clicked her tongue and sighed. She slipped out the knitting needle and unraveled the yarn. Knitting was not as easy as it looked. It took concentration and patience, two qualities she obviously needed in greater supply. But the troops needed warm socks, so she was determined to master the skill no matter how long it took. She slowed her unraveling, carefully picked up the dropped stitch, and slid the needle back into place.

A slight breeze ruffled the leaves of the oak tree overhead and cooled her warm face. At least if she and the girls had to knit socks, they could do it outside in the shade of this lovely tree. That made the task a bit more bearable.

A few yards away, Donald and Jack played a vigorous game of badminton. Tom stood by the net, keeping score on a small chalkboard and waiting to challenge the winner to the next game.

Helen stood nearby in the sunshine, keeping an eye on Emily as she ran across the grass. Little Irene chased after Emily, making her giggle.

A wagon drove up the lane pulling an open horse trailer carrying a bay pony. Andrew rode up front in the wagon with Mr. McTavish. Donald and Jack stopped their game and watched them pass.

Donald lifted his chin and smirked. “There goes the little prince and his new pony.”

Penny pulled in a sharp breath and rose to her feet. “Donald!”

The boy looked her way. His face turned ruddy, but he set his jaw and did not reply.

“Come here, please.” Penny stepped out into the sunshine and waited for him.

Donald slowly crossed the grass toward her, his expression sullen.

When he was within a foot of her, he stopped and looked up.

“I don't want to hear you speak about Andrew in that manner again. Do you understand?”

Donald crossed his arms and shifted his gaze away.

“I'd like an answer, please.”

The boy turned back, his face set in a scowl. “What's his father thinking—giving him a horse when he got kicked out of school? It doesn't make sense.”

Penny didn't quite understand it either, but that was not the point. “It's not your place to question Sir William's decisions about his son.”

Donald narrowed his eyes. “Well, if I had a son who cheated on an exam and got sent home from school, I wouldn't be giving him a horse. I'd put him to work.”

“Is that right?” How had Donald learned those details? Penny had only heard them this morning from Julia in a private conversation.

Donald gave a firm nod. “He'd be chopping wood or mucking out stalls until he paid back every shilling spent to send him to that fancy school.”

Penny stared at Donald for a moment, trying to think of a reply. “Well, you don't have a son yet, so there's no need for you to worry about it.”

Donald huffed and glared toward the stables.

Lucy rose and walked toward them. “Miss Penny, can we go see the new pony?”

Before Penny could answer, Rose popped up. “Oh, yes, please? I love horses!”

Edna and Susan laid aside their knitting and rose as well, hopeful looks on their faces.

Penny glanced toward the stables. Perhaps spending some time with the new pony might help bridge the gap that seemed to exist between Andrew and the other children. And she could definitely use a break from her knitting. “I suppose we could walk up to the stables.”

Lydia set down her needles and stood. “Shall we leave our knitting here?”

Penny nodded. “We can pick it up on the way back.”