Ashton Park (15 page)

Victoria sipped her tea. “Well, Em is with child.”

Sir William put down his spoon. “What?”

Lady Elizabeth took his hand. “The baby is due in December, William. It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

Sir William’s face opened up in pleasure. “It is. Certainly it is.” He looked from his wife to his daughter. “This is turning into one of the most splendid breakfasts I have ever eaten in this house. It’s a pity Sir Arthur and Aunt Holly and Lady Grace ate early. I think I will spend the rest of the morning here and see what happens next.”

Victoria stood up. “You may do that, Father, but I wish to go riding. I trust I may go about the estate without Old Todd Turpin as my shadow now that I’m nineteen?”

Sir William waved his free hand, the other still holding his wife’s. “Of course.”

Victoria looked at Charlotte as the maid set out a pot of cream and a plate of scones fresh from Mrs. Longstaff’s oven. “Char, would you mind leaving the breakfast things for the other girls? I’d like you to help me with my riding outfit.”

“Why—” Charlotte glanced at Victoria in surprise, stopping what she was doing with the sugar bowl. “I’ll be right up, Miss Danforth.”

Victoria stood in front of her freestanding oval mirror while Charlotte adjusted her jacket and scarf.

“That suits, Char, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Danforth.”

“Tell me, Char. Do you miss my brother very much?”

“I…I don’t quite know how to answer that, Miss Danforth.” Charlotte straightened the shoulders of Victoria’s green jacket several times. “I should find it wonderful if all your brothers were home from the war and safe.”

Victoria looked at her in the mirror as Charlotte fussed over the trim of the jacket. “I saw you two that day. When I walked to the cliff and back. You were hiding behind a tree.”

Charlotte’s face filled with blood.

“So,” continued Victoria, “are you good friends with my brother? Were you just out for a stroll together that day? Or are you in love?” Victoria turned around to face Charlotte. “I think it’s love.”

Charlotte smoothed her white apron and kept her eyes on the floor. “I’m sorry, Miss Danforth. I’m not sure what I can say to you.”

“What are you sorry for? Do you care for Edward?”

Charlotte lifted her eyes. Victoria saw that they were clear and strong.

“I do, Miss Danforth. Very much. But I realize it’s out of place.”

“Why do you think that?”

“He’s—Edward’s of noble birth, Miss Danforth. Just as you are. We have no future together. I know that.” Her eyes became a rich indigo color. “But he’s so kind to me. His words are so wonderful. I have so little to offer him but he still treats me with such tenderness and respect.”

“You have so little to offer? I’ve never seen my brother more cheerful and good-willed than he was his last few days with us. It wasn’t the weather, Char. Or walks with Harrison in the woods. It was you.”

Charlotte flushed a deeper scarlet. “You’re kind to say so. But he’s of noble birth and I am just a girl from a poor family. I know it can’t last but I beg you not to tell your parents. I couldn’t bear for them to punish Edward in any way.”

“Oh, Char.” Victoria laughed and linked an arm through Charlotte’s. “Do you think I or God in His heaven care how poor you are? If I can see the brilliance of your spirit, how much more clearly can He? No wonder Edward is dazzled. ‘Poor Edward,’ we should be saying. How can he ever escape your loveliness?”

“Are…are you not angry with me then?”

“For making a decent human being out of my brother? You are a complete delight. I’m glad Edward found you first because he needs you the most. Not Robbie or Kipp.” She put a hand gently to Charlotte’s face. “Is there not gossip about me among the servants?”

“Why, there’s always gossip of some sort or the other about your family, Miss Danforth.”

“About the man I love?”

“I’ve heard all sorts of things. I pay them no mind.”

“It’s Ben, you know. Ben Whitecross. A poor groom. Yet I love him, Char. I pray for him every minute I’m awake and I pray for him in my dreams, I’m sure. I want to marry him, Char. I beg God to bring him back alive from the war and I vow to marry him the day he sets foot at Ashton Park. Now, do you see, both of us have the same sort of secret to share.”

“Why—I’m happy for you, Miss Danforth. I never thought the rumors were true. I hope God returns Ben to you safely. And I pray your parents will accept the marriage. But they’ll not accept you and Ben and me and Edward too. They’ll feel the need to draw the line somewhere.”

“Don’t be so sure. They’re set in their ways about some things but open-minded about others, especially if it involves the happiness of their children. The war is changing things. Not always in bad ways.” She took Charlotte’s hands in her own. “Do you think prayer accomplishes anything, Char?”

Charlotte met Victoria’s gaze. “I do, I confess I do, Miss Danforth. I prayed over Edward’s photograph in your mother’s room every day for a year—and I had no idea that he would come to care for me in the way he has. It’s a miracle.”

“Then we shall pray together for our men, Char. Will you do that with me?”

Char smiled softly. “I will, Miss Danforth. It’s very gracious of you.”

“Let’s begin now.”

“It feels so strange, Miss Danforth. You being of the manor and I—”

“No more of that. God cares about the prayer prayed and not a family’s name. Come here.”

Victoria led Charlotte to a small couch with white and green fabric and intricately carved wooden legs. They sat down facing each other, Victoria’s small hands closing around Charlotte’s strong white fingers.

“I’ve never had anyone to pray about Ben with before,” said Victoria. “This means a great deal to me. We should begin with the Lord’s Prayer, Char. Is that all right? It seems to be a prayer we always pray in our family.”

Charlotte closed her eyes. “Yes, Miss Danforth. There’s no more perfect way to start.”

Ian Hannam whistled as he walked past French civilians and British and Canadian pilots on a crooked street in the Saint-Leu district of Amiens. It was dark but the moon was almost full, the air was warm, and afternoon rain had opened blossoms and leaves, making the night’s scent sweet and rich. He took in a lungful and almost laughed. He felt like a schoolboy again, helping his mates pass love notes back and forth to their girlfriends. He’d always been a good go-between back then. He never dreamed he’d pick it up again in the middle of a war.

Kipp was nursing a coffee at the Café Jules Verne. There were seven other airmen talking quietly in the candlelit room of rough wooden tables and checkered tablecloths that were worn and frayed. Ian came in the door, hands in his pockets, looking as if he’d just been shot down. Seeing his face, Kipp’s stomach tightened.

Ian sat down at Kipp’s table. “Sorry, old boy.”

“What happened? What did she say?”

“Well, she asked why you hadn’t approached her yourself. I was going to say you’d been wounded in the leg tangling with Richthofen but thought that might be stretching it considering you’ve never been wounded, not even a scratch on the—”

“For heaven’s sake, Hannam!”

“Calmly, Danforth. Play the man. I said your French was
très miserable
and you required someone of my ability and charm to ask if you two could meet privately—
tête a tête.
She appreciated that and said she would be charmed,
enchantée,
but feared her English was no better than your French. I assured her that your French was much, much worse than her English and the two of you would get on splendidly. Where there’s a will there’s a way.”

“So what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong, old chap, is that her boyfriend chose that moment to show up. Big as a gorilla. Mean as a Hun. Ferocious way about him. Eyes like machine guns. Well, perhaps I exaggerate.”

“A boyfriend. I thought…Kent said she didn’t—”

“Kent. Ah well, Kent, he went to Oxford you know, Christchurch, they made a frightful mess of his powers of reason. No, I’m afraid Teddy has won the day and taken home your Guinevere.”

“Teddy!”

“Teddy Irving, ace of aces. I’m sorry. Did my best. Perhaps you’d like to head back to base rather than be here when the pair of them show up—oh, bad luck! Here they are. Steady, Danforth. Remember the king.”

“The king? What does the king have to do with this disaster?” Kipp stared as Teddy held the door to the café open. He was in his uniform as were Ian and Kipp. In stepped Christelle, gleaming like the night stars, linking her arm with Teddy’s. Smiling, the pair approached Kipp and Ian at their table. She was at least a head taller than him. Ian scrambled to his feet and did a quick bow.

“
Mademoiselle.
”

She inclined her head. “Leftenant Ian.”

Ian pumped Teddy’s hand. “Congratulations, Teddy.”

“Thank you, Hannam. I’m still a bit dizzy about it all, y’know.”

“Don’t blame you a bit.” Ian turned to Kipp. “Faint heart never won fair lady. I’m sure you’re up to offering the two of them your best wishes, Danforth.”

Dazed, Kipp got to his feet. “Well done, Teddy.”

Teddy ran his fingers over a thick brown mustache flecked with gray. “Thank you, Kipp. No hard feelings?’

“Best man wins.”

Ian and Teddy looked at one another and seemed to be muffling a laugh. Then Ian counted out loud in French, “
Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq…
” At five they both ran from the café and bolted down the street.

Rooted to the spot, Kipp watched them race out of sight. He glanced at Christelle, who had one hand over her mouth. The corners of her eyes crinkled and her shoulders shook.

“What’s going on?” he demanded. “They made out you were Teddy’s girl!”

Christelle finally laughed out loud, taking away her hand. “
J’en suis desolée.
I’m sorry—they wanted to play a game. Your friend Ian asked if I would—go along. He said he would prove to me what a good sport you were.”

“Is that what he said?” Kipp found his face growing warm with a mixture of anger and confusion. “What do you think?”

Christelle watched the battle in his face and stopped laughing. She took his hand. “I think…I am glad to be here with you, Leftenant. Sit with me.”

Her touch sent a shock through his arm. She tugged him gently into a chair beside her. After a moment, he felt he ought to release her hand but when he tried she only tightened her fingers around his.

“May I…have a coffee also?” she asked. “
S’il vous plait?
”

Kipp was beginning to recover himself. “Why, yes, of course. Do you drink it very much?”

“I have not had it that often. With you, I would like to,
oui
.”

The sensation of her hand in his made it difficult for Kipp to remember what little French he knew, but he managed to ask the waiter for a second coffee properly.

She squeezed his hand. “
Chapeau!
”

Kipp smiled. “
Merci.
”

He sat looking at her, saying nothing more, taking in her beauty, relief still running through him after the prank Ian and Teddy had pulled. He gazed on and on, enjoying her face, the way her hair fell about her shoulders, the changing color of her eyes. Christelle waited for him to speak, one eyebrow arching to emphasize the question in her features:
Eh bien? Well?
Finally she raised his hand to her mouth and kissed it.

“Don’t you have anything to say to me?” she teased, her eyes catching the light of the candles in the café.

“
Oui
,” Kipp said, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips.

Hours later, Ian and Teddy and Kent were jabbering away like madmen about their night on the town when they picked Kipp up. He had walked Christelle to her parents’ home, where she lived, and returned to the café to wait for them. They peppered him with questions, none of which he answered, sitting in a dreamy silence in the back seat of the motorcar, until they looked at his eyes and gave up, preferring to talk about themselves again.

Once they made it to the aerodrome and chateau, Kipp stretched out on the bed in his room, arms under his head, and looked up at the dark ceiling, thinking over every moment of the evening, each facial expression Christelle had made, the different ways she laughed, how she mixed English with French when she spoke, the kiss at the door to her house that had lasted much longer than the one at Sans Souci the week before.