June, 1925
Dover Sky
A rap on the door was followed by a woman’s voice calling, “Christelle? Are you all right?”
“I’ll only be a minute, Maman.”
“Please, dear, let us not stand on ceremony in a bedroom. I’m Mum to all my daughters-in-law and sons-in-law, especially when your own mother and father could not be here.” She opened the door a crack. “May I help you? Everyone is wondering where the birthday girl has gotten to.”
Christelle braced one hand against the bed and held the other over her stomach as she fought a wave of pain. “Oui, oui, je suis désolée, you needn’t come in. I’ll be right down.”
Lady Preston stepped inside. “It’s no trouble. Do you—” She saw Christelle bent over and rushed to her side. “What is it, dear? What’s happening to you?”
“Just a stomachache, nothing more. I’ve been having severe cramps when my time of month comes since Easter—” She suddenly drew in her breath sharply. “Oh, mon Dieu, aie miséricorde. J’ai besoin de ton aide et puissance…” she prayed through a moan.
Lady Preston gripped Christelle’s hands. “Squeeze mine. Go ahead. I’m years younger than my husband, and my bones are still strong.”
“Go ahead! I am not fine china. I won’t break.” She winced slightly as Christelle tightened her grip. “That’s fine. Go on. I’m fine,” she encouraged.
“Non, Maman.”
“I’m fine. Let me help.” Lady Preston shook her head as Christelle doubled up again. “It’s not cramps, is it? And it’s not this bug you say you’ve been fighting all winter and spring.”
“Yes, of course it is—it’s both. I only need another minute.”
“No one in the family believes you. We don’t know what it is, but it’s certainly not the flu or an ordinary illness.” Her eyes were sharp. “Back at Ashton Park I talked to the doctor about you.”
“What?”
“He was tight-lipped. No amount of threatening or pleas could get him to speak. He cited physician–patient confidentiality and a lot of rubbish. I told him, “Listen, every month she is thinner—and she was thin enough to begin with. Something is making her waste away, something serious. What is it?”
“He didn’t—he didn’t tell you though?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“By his very evasiveness, the doctor has convinced William and me that whatever it is it must be very bad indeed—worse than we had feared. And seeing you like this makes me quite afraid. Is it your heart? Is it your stomach or intestines? Come, my dear, we love you. You are family. Please don’t continue to leave us in the dark. Do you think you’re sparing us some pain? Seeing you this way doubles and triples my anxiety. Please tell me what’s happening to you.”
“Non, Maman. I will, but not yet.”
Lady Preston put her arms around the young woman until the spasms ceased. “Please, Christelle, listen to me. Kipp is saying nothing even though he looks like death with his worry over you. Ben has told us you must be using opiates. He saw a bottle at your house once. I chose to ignore him.”
“Non, non.”
“I’ve been worried. I’ve seen the way you…well, the way you drift in your speech now and then, and even more over the past few months. Once or twice your eyes were different—your pupils were so small—when you spoke with me.”
Christelle sank her head against Lady Preston’s shoulder. “Maman, do not be mad at the doctor or Kipp. I did not want anyone to know. I didn’t want to be placed in the hospital to die. I wished to be among all of you and for everything to be as normal as possible for as long as possible.”
“To die? What is wrong with you? What has the doctor said? With the proper treatment and medicine, you will get better, will you not?”
“No, Maman. It is cancer.”
Lady Preston’s body stiffened. “How long have you known this?”
“Since the fall.”
“Why…why on earth did you keep this a secret? It should have been operated on long ago. It should have been cut out.”
“They could not, Maman. Even back then it was growing all through me. It would be—how do you say it? Etriper un poisson, like gutting a fish.”
Lady Preston’s eyebrows darted inward. “The doctor said that?”
“Non, he was very polite, but that is what he meant. He said the surgery would kill me. So I said, ‘Tell no one. Keep this in strictest confidence. Let me live as ordinary a life as possible for as long as possible.’ He reluctantly agreed and prescribed opiates for the pain. He has been most kind.”
“He lied to us.”
“Non, Doctor Pittmeadow did what I wished and what a physician must do, Maman. It was between him and me, correct? He had no choice. Please do not be angry.”
“Still we can do something, check out more options and new treatments.”
Christelle kissed her on the cheek right where she’d spotted a tear slowly making its way to her mother-in-law’s chin. “You can pray, Maman. And you can go back out to the party with me. It is time for the children to have cake and ice cream. I want to hold Victoria and Jeremy’s baby boy, sweet Timothy. Please help me enjoy those I love. If we talk about the cancer now, it will ruin the day. Tomorrow or the day after I will tell the family. But not now. Not today. I want this day to be special and joyful.”
“How long—how long do you have then?”
“The doctor said six to eight months last fall—if I am lucky…if I am blessed. So I am happy to still be here.”
“When did you tell Kipp?”
“Last month.”
“He is not doing well with what you told him.”
Christelle bit her lip. “Non. He is angry with God and angry with life.” She shrugged one shoulder. “And angry with Lady Caroline.”
“With Caroline? Why?”
“Because of me again. I am doing all these things and making all these decisions for when I am no longer here, and he is not happy with them.”
“What have you said to him?”
“That I adore Caroline. That our children get along so well. That there was a time he loved her, and I believe he still has love for her. I want him to marry her, Maman. I want them to become husband and wife and raise our children after I am gone.”
“Marriage!”
She took Lady Preston’s hands. “I trust her. I do not want Kipp to be with someone I’ve never met. I do not want Matthew to be raised by a stranger. Kipp is fighting me on this, but this is so much what I want for him. Can you help me?”
“Oh Christelle!”
“Will you help me, Maman?”
“Child, child, I don’t think Kipp will listen to anyone if he is as angry and upset as he seems. He is long past the age when he will happily listen to his mother’s counsel, especially when it goes against his will. I don’t like to even think about him being wed to a woman other than you. This is much to take in so quickly…far too quickly. I see it matters to you though. If it will put you at some measure of ease, I will speak with him. Caroline is a wonderful girl and, yes, there was a time William and I were sure Caroline and Kipp would be husband and wife. I’m astonished you are the one who wants to bring the two of them together again.”
“Maman, if I am not here I believe she will be the right woman for him and the right mother for our son.”
Tears came more swiftly to the older woman’s eyes. Lady Preston hugged Christelle. “You’ve always been one with such a large heart that few can understand. I confess I still don’t understand. But if it pleases you, I will sit down and talk to him. Who knows? Perhaps he will change his mind. I will do this, but I don’t even like to think of such things with you in front of me with your beautiful smile.”
“Merci, Maman. I am sure Kipp will listen to what you have to say.”
“I’m not as sure as you are, but I promise I will do what I can.”
“Kipp?”
Kipp didn’t turn around.
“Kipp? Are you going to go on avoiding me all day?”
“It’s been working so far.”
“Chris has asked to see us both.”
“I’m busy.” He sliced a lemon. “How did you find me?”
“Mrs. Longstaff said you’d be down in the kitchen making punch. She said you insisted on doing it.” Caroline moved to within his line of vision. “It’s Chris who is asking, not me.”
Kipp glanced up at her, his gaze flat. “A request you put her up to, no doubt.”
“Kipp, since when has anyone been able to put Chris up to anything? You know your wife better than anyone. She’s a free spirit. She goes where she wants and does what she thinks is right.”
“For the most part, yes. But the illness has affected her judgment.”
“Meaning in regard to me?”
“Who else would I mean?”
“Kipp, stop treating me like a witch. I never wanted to do what your wife asked me to do. I never wanted to reach out to you like that and force the issue between us. But how could I say no to a dying woman when she pleaded with me over and over again?”
“You probably didn’t need much convincing, right?”
Caroline folded her arms over the front of her summer dress. “The attraction seemed pretty mutual when we were last together.”
Kipp chopped limes loudly and rapidly with a large knife. “Sometimes I lose my way. Big blue eyes do that to me. Unfortunately, I can be pretty weak.”
“Is that what it was? You said you loved us both.”
“I don’t, Caroline. I only love Chris.”
“So the wrong words just popped out of your mouth?”
“Like I said, it was a weak moment.”
She brushed at her tears with a finger. “So I mean nothing to you?”
“That’s right. Nothing.”
“And Chris was mistaken to think I might be a good companion for you after her death and a good mother to Matthew?”
Kipp laughed bitterly. “A hooker from East London would be a better mother to my son than you.”
Caroline’s face whitened and tears shot down her cheeks. “I don’t deserve that, Kipp! I can understand your pain and anger over your wife’s cancer, but I won’t forgive what you’ve just said to me. I love you, Kipp. Everything I’ve done has been out of love for you and for Christelle. You can’t blame me for the fact she’s dying, but you’re going to anyway, I see. Just throw all the blame on Caroline, is that it?”
Kipp poured water into a large crystal bowl. “I don’t blame you for Christelle’s cancer.”
“Are you sure? You seem to want to blame someone very badly. God isn’t readily at hand, but I am.”
Kipp said nothing as Caroline brought a white cotton handkerchief out of a pocket in her dress and dabbed at her eyes.
“Then it’s come to this, Kipp. You’ve broken my heart enough times, but you won’t get any other opportunities after this. I’ll tell my parents I don’t wish to overnight at Dover Sky. I don’t care if we have to book a hotel room in Liverpool. I will leave you to your anger, Kipp. You’ll never see me again. Do try to have a good life. If not for yourself, at least for Chris’s sake…and for your son’s.” Caroline turned and walked swiftly towards the kitchen door.
Kipp laid down the knife and leaned on the tabletop with both hands. “Where are you going?”
She paused in the doorway. “I’m going to say goodbye to your wife. I’m going to spend a good while doing it because I won’t be at Dover Sky or Ashton Park again. When I came into this kitchen there was still the possibility of a love between us. Now there is not. You are a cruel and hard man, Kipp Danforth. I feel very sorry for you, but not sorry enough to watch you destroy the remaining years of your life—and that of your son.”
“So tell me, professor,” Edward settled next to Albrecht on a couch in the library, “how are things in Germany these days?” He dug his fork into a piece of cake on a plate in his hand. “What about Herr Hitler? What’s he up to?”
Albrecht sipped his coffee before replying. “The economy is much better, so fellows like him have a harder time stirring up the populace. He is out of prison now, and his autobiography is due to be published next month. Even though he has been out of the political picture for a while, his book is bound to make a few people sit up and take notice.”
“How many seats does his Nazi Party have in the government?”
“Only fourteen.”
“I see. What will be in his book?”
“He attacks the Jews and the Slavic people. He rails against the trade unions, the Communists, and the Socialists.”
“Does he?” Edward reached for his own cup of coffee. “Then he can’t be all that bad, can he? Perhaps we should bring him over to straighten out the Labor Party.”
“His ways are very violent, Lord Edward.”
“Yes? Well, we don’t have the Bolsheviks as close to us as the Germans do. We have our wonderful moat—the English Channel. I can understand why Herr Hitler might resort to force.”
Albrecht set down his coffee. “He will not unleash his street gangs against only the communists and socialists, Lord Edward. Anyone Hitler considers his opponent is fair game.”
“Hmm.” Edward set down his coffee, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and put aside his plate. “My sister tells me you are working on your own book.”
“Yes. It is meant to coincide with the release of Herr Hitler’s. I challenge him on many of his political positions.”
“Not on his stance against Bolshevism surely?”
“On the way he means to recreate Germany and the power he wishes to exert to achieve his vision. It is very much like Mussolini’s fascism.”
“Mussolini’s not all bad, is he? He’s brought a certain strength and honor back to Rome.”
“He seized power, Lord Edward. He didn’t form the government by means of a democratic election. I very much fear Hitler may one day look for an opportunity to do the same. Such people think alike.”
“I cannot wholly blame them. Democracy can be a very tedious and toadying process where people ingratiate themselves to all manner of rank and file in the hopes of gaining votes. Imagine if Labor had gotten the majority, Herr Hartmann. Just on a whim of the dockworkers or hog farmers who turned out to vote. What then? We’d have Bolshevism in the House of Commons and trade between London and Moscow. That would be unacceptable! What could a person do if that happened? Wait another four or five years in the hopes of ousting the Reds by means of the democratic system? And what if my father and I and the Tories didn’t grovel enough to suit the dockworkers and pig farmers and coal miners? Another five years of Bolshevism and Labor after that?”
Edward shook his head and reached for his coffee. “We would have to march on Westminster in the same way Mussolini marched on Rome. We’d have to seize power in the name of all that is holy and good. There would be no other choice if we wanted to save England.” He chuckled. “Forgive me, Albrecht. I get too intense. Father is always warning me about that.” He leaned back. “So my sister assisted you and the baron with your book?”
“Yes, she was quite valuable.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Would you make use of her skills again?”
“Certainly.”
“And it goes no further than that?”
Albrecht wrinkled his forehead. “Pardon me?”
“Come, Albrecht! We’re grown men. Let’s not play parlor games. We’re perfectly alone and can say what we mean without fear of others repeating our words in the wrong places. I’m glad you offered Catherine an opportunity to get out of the house and do something that required her intelligence. She’s mourned too long…far too long. Truly she had become rather sallow in appearance. The Swiss air and food obviously did her good. Her countenance is greatly improved. I am grateful to the baron and you for that.”
“Thank you.”
“You understand it must end there though. If she marries again, she must marry an Englishman.”
Albrecht sat up straight. “Excuse me, Lord Edward?”
Edward smiled. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you. I thought she was going to take your hand when we were singing happy birthday to Christelle an hour ago. I’m glad Germany is getting back on her feet. I sense Germany can be our ally against Russia and the spread of communism. But a German—even a good German theologian—as part of the Danforth dynasty? Impossible. I think you understand that, don’t you?”
“Yes, I think I do understand you.”
Edward patted the arm of the couch. “Excellent. I didn’t think there would be any trouble. Mind you, I don’t intend to stand in the way of any working relationship between Catherine and you. That’s just what Catherine needs. Let her help you with a thousand of your books. But no more than that. She has her castle, and you have yours. All right?”
Albrecht inclined his head. “This might be something you should raise with your sister, Lord Edward.”
“I may do that.” Edward got up. “Thank you for a stimulating insight on European politics, professor.”
“It was interesting.”
“How is Matthew?”
“He’s all wound up from the big day, and he’s disappointed Charles left so early with his mother.”
Kipp buttoned his pajama top. “Couldn’t be helped.”
Christelle sat on the edge of the bed, the dark lines under her eyes and her tightly clasped hands revealing her tension. “He says he won’t sleep until you kiss him good night.”
“Are you all right then, Chris?”
“No, I am not all right. We’ll talk when you come back.” After Kipp left, Chris dragged herself under the covers and turned off the lamp by the bed. She looked out the window and in the moonlight she saw Skitt walking toward the pond carrying a paper bag, a cricket bat, and the thermos Catherine had brought him from Switzerland. She wondered what he was doing, but she soon drifted off. When a spasm jerked her awake, she clenched her fists against the pain and prayed.
Seigneur, I took so much medication today to get through the celebration. Must I take more now just to sleep? Dieu, I love Kipp and my son. I love my English family. But I think it would be better if You take me now rather than after I become an opium eater. I have no wish to end my life as an addict. Aie pitié, Seigneur.
“Are you asleep?” Kipp asked in the semidarkness.
“Non.” She patted the bed beside her. “Come and lie beside me, my love. Are you afraid I am going to throw the clock at you?”
“I might be,” he said as he climbed into bed.
“Well, I don’t have the energy for that.” She turned on her side to face him. “You will have to decide for yourself what you will do about Caroline Scarborough. I have said enough. In any case, I don’t think what I wished for—and asked for—will ever happen. She did not tell me what you said to her, but whatever it was hurt her deeply. There was no need of you to do that, Kipp. That is not what you do to people. You have never been like that.”
“I’m sorry. It was not a good day for me.”
“I am not the one you need to apologize to. And perhaps she will not hear your apology anyway. I believe she and Charles are gone from your life for good. I hope this is not something you will regret a year from now.”
“I don’t know. When I think of a year from now, all I see is there will be no birthday party for you next year. There will be no balloons, no candles…and none of your smiles.”
“Shh. Look! I am smiling for you in the dark.”
He reached out and touched her face. “Yes, I can feel that.”
She suddenly drew in her breath. “The pain is a little worse. I will have a restless night. You might wish to sleep in another room.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
She took his hand. “Always the gallant one, my knight in shining armor.”
“You looked very good today. You did very well. People remarked on your thinness, but you had so much enthusiasm and charm everyone was delighted. How beautiful you are, Chris! Even while you’re fighting this monster, how much life you give to everyone. You’re radiant.”
“Ah, merci.”
“You don’t really know, you know. You might overcome this cancer.”
“Non, Kipp. Do not allow yourself to think that way. It is not going to happen. I don’t feel that happening inside me.”
“You can’t be completely sure.”
“I don’t want you to believe I will recover. It will make it worse when I—when I—” She stopped. “Just pray. Will you pray? That will help. Hold me close and pray.”
“I’m not good at that anymore.”
“Try. I am asking you.”
He kissed her on the lips. “Yes. For you, of course.”
“Hush.” Catherine put a finger to her lips. “Remember, Skitt is standing guard at the pond.”
Albrecht looked. “Your butler? What is that all about?”
“Poachers go after the swans, so Harrison and Skitt take turns standing guard. They’ve never caught any though, and this is their second summer at it.”
“It would be best if we moved away from the pond then, I think.”
“I agree.” She took his hand in the cozy darkness under the trees. “I thought you might have changed your mind, you took so long to join me.”
“Me? No. Your brother would wish me to, however.”
“My brother? Kipp?”
“Edward. He made it clear he didn’t want German blood in the family. A working relationship with you is fine, he said.”
“Don’t take Edward personally, Albrecht.”
“How should I take him?”
She caught the tone in his voice, stopped, and faced him, still holding his hand. “He fancies himself as the leader of the Conservative Party in ten years and then prime minister. After that, emperor of the world, I suppose. This has nothing to do with you. He’s not comfortable with Chris either because she’s French.”
“So no wedding bells in our future?”
“Do you want wedding bells?”
“I don’t know. The chat with him did give my train a bit of a lurch.”
“The oddest thing is he had a huge row with Mum and Dad when it came to his marriage. Char was a commoner, you see, and they weren’t happy about their eldest son marrying her. But he fought them until he got what he wanted. Now he turns up his nose at my interest in a German theologian? This is one of Edward’s little hypocrisies. Perhaps he’ll grow out of it.”
Albrecht glanced up at the stars. “His political views seem a bit harsh. I hope he grows out of those first.”
“What views?” asked Catherine.
“He’s a little too approving of Adolph Hitler’s ideas.”
“Against the Jews?”
“I didn’t get any sense of that. It was mostly being against the trade unions and communists where he found common ground with the Nazi Party.”
“You have to bear in mind he’s taken on the role of scourge of Bolshevism. That’s all it is. He’s no fascist, believe me. Too much of an Englishman for that.” She led Albrecht under an old apple tree. “But we didn’t come out here to discuss my brother Edward’s idiosyncrasies, did we?”
“No.”
“Or marriage. We don’t want to make a hash of things when we’re just getting started, do we?”
“I agree with you. Talk of marriage is verboten.”
“Good. Let’s keep our relationship uncluttered, shall we?” She kissed him gently on the lips. “Did you get a chance to speak with Chris?”
“Very briefly. The children were playing out on the lawn while she told me my book on suffering meant a great deal to her. She said it made her able to accept her ongoing illness in a better spirit—even to contemplate death in a less fearful manner.”
“Death? I hope that’s not on her mind.”
“Now and then it’s on everybody’s mind, Catherine. Even if it’s only for a few moments. She hoped we could talk more tomorrow after breakfast.”
“I’m sure you can. Didn’t you say you were staying over another night? At least?”
“At least? Where did that idea come from?”
“I thought I might persuade you with my English charms.” She kissed him on the lips a second time, much more slowly, hands on his chest. “We were allies at Waterloo, remember?”
“Oh? Were you there for the entire battle?”
“Yes. Right next to you.”
“Did we kiss?”
“Before and after, yes, quite a bit.”
“Remind me.”
She put her arms around his neck and kissed him a long time before stopping to brush her lips over his cheek and whisper in his ear. “Remember now?”
“It’s coming back to me. I can see Blucher and Wellington. Maybe even a glimpse of Napoleon.”
“Then I’m not doing this right. Let’s try this.” She kissed him with more force and then released him.
He looked at her in kind of a daze.
“Well?” She cocked her head and smiled. “What do you see now?”
“Why, I must admit, not much. Just you.”
“Ah, now we have the chemistry just right, Professor Hartmann. What shall we do with it?”
He ran his hands through her long, dark hair. “Carry on I hope, Lady Catherine. Die Nacht ist jung.”
“It is young. But still not a star or the moon or a kiss should be lost. We must use them up.”
“Once again I agree with you wholeheartedly.”
Kipp woke in the dark. At first he lay still as he listened. Matthew wasn’t crying. There was no noise from inside the house or outside on the grounds. He reached over to touch Christelle’s arm. It was cold and rigid.
“Chris! Christelle!” he cried.
He threw back the covers. Moonlight revealed her open eyes were lifeless. Her lips were parted in a small smile. Her hair was spread over the pillow like silver feathers.
“Christelle!” he shouted.
He moved to her side of the bed. Sitting down, he pulled her into his arms and looked for any sign of life. He clamped his hand over her heart and then grabbed her wrist. He kissed her and cried out again. Her arms remained stiff as stone. Her entire body seemed as smooth and hard as marble.
“Oh no! Oh no! God, my God…no please. Not this…no…no…no!”
He heard the sound of running feet. Switches must have been clicked on because light blazed all around him. Hands gripped his shoulders. He turned his head and recognized Ben. Victoria was slightly behind him, her hand over her mouth as she took in the scene.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Kipp.” Ben’s face was wet with tears. “God, please help us.”
Then Kip noticed his father and mother looking pale and old. There was Catherine, tears cutting across her face. Emma was clutching Victoria. Edward rushed in with Charlotte, whose hair looked like Christelle’s—wild and shining, except it was moving as she moved and Christelle’s hair only moved because he was rocking her and weeping into the thousands of soft strands.
“Our Father,” Jeremy touched his shoulder and knelt beside the bed, “who art in heaven.” Jeremy’s round glasses had smeared. He took them off. Grasping his prosthetic right hand with his left hand, he dropped his head onto his hands. “Que ton règne vienne, que ta volonté soit faite sur la terre comme au ciel. Donne-nous aujourd’hui notre pain de ce jour.” He stopped. His voice became a whisper. “Forgive us our sins. As we forgive those who have sinned against us. Lead us not into temptation. But deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom. And the power. And the glory. Forever. Amen.”
Matthew stood looking at his mother. Kipp saw that he was very slender and very young and that his eyes were as dark as his mother’s eyes had been.