Ashton Park (49 page)

“You smell like heaven,” he murmured, burying his face in her hair.

“Yes? And you smell like gasoline.”

“I washed my hands.”

“But not your hair or your body. You haven’t had your bath yet, have you?” She rolled over to face him, smiling and pinching his cheek. “
Je m’en
fiche.
I don’t care,
mon cher,
you know I don’t. You could smell like a farm and it wouldn’t matter. I love you.”

Kipp began to kiss her shoulder. “Our son needs a sister.”

“Oh-ho, is that true? I have not even recovered from giving you Matthew and now what? We need Marianne?”

“It’s an idea.”

Christelle kissed his lips. “Wait. Give me a year of peace. Then we’ll see. Let us get into our house first. Oh.” She pulled away and picked up a telegram from the table on her side of the bed. “I almost forgot this. It came while you were doing your flight to Birmingham and back.”

“Who is it from?”

“I did not open it. I am a better wife than that.” She watched as he hesitated with it in his hand. “Go ahead. Read it. Please. I need a rest.”

Kipp opened it. She saw his face tighten.

“What is the matter?” she asked, immediately reaching out to touch his arm.

Kipp handed the telegram to her. “It would be better if you read it for yourself.”

Christelle sat up, throwing her long hair back over one shoulder. She squinted in the half-light of the room, glancing over once at Matthew, who was sleeping by their bed in a small wooden crib. When she finished she looked at Kipp.

“What can I say to you? Lady Caroline is being stalked by this Buchanan. She is afraid to tell her family because she is certain Lord Scarborough will kill him. She asks for your help as a friend.” She shrugged. “You must go to her.”

“How can I go to her? She is in Paris.”

“And you have planes that fly over the Channel to Paris every week.”

“There’s nothing I can do. I’m not the police. And you have just had the baby.”

She took both his hands. “I had Matthew over a month ago. I am fine. There is a house full of people here to take care of me. Darling, you cannot ignore this. You cannot. If something happens to her and we did nothing? And she has her little boy with her?” She shook her head. “
Non.
You and I are not that sort. Go and talk with Michael and Ben. You will need to be in Paris at the address she gave you as soon as possible. If not today then tomorrow.”

“Christelle—”

“Shhh.” She laid her head on his chest. “Your feelings are for me, aren’t they? Not for her?”

“Of course my feelings are for you. How can you ask that?”

“I don’t ask it for me. I ask it for you. I see that it is you who are worried. If you love me, it will be all right.” She reached her hand up to his face. “But we cannot have her father and mother dining with us here and smile and do nothing for their only child.
C’est impossible.
Get Caroline away from this Buchanan and bring her back here. Bring her and her boy to Ashton Park.” She kissed him softly. “My Kipp. I’m sorry. But you must. It is
la guerre—
another kind of war for you.”

Michael put the phone down. “All right. You’re flying to our London airfield at dawn. They’ll refuel you there and you can take some packages to Paris for us. Use the civilian field at the west end of the city.”

Kipp sat beside Ben in the parlor while Michael stood facing them. “I think the SPAD can handle her and the boy when I bring them back.”

“I’m sure it can too.” Michael coughed. “Look. I don’t know this Buchanan—”

“He’s a big tall Scot,” Kipp replied. “Haven’t seen him in years.”

“Don’t kill the guy. Or let him kill you. Just get her out of that hotel and back to England. It would be better if he never knew you were there until after you were gone.”

“I still don’t understand why she didn’t stay at the villa in Lisbon.” Ben looked at both of them. “Wouldn’t that have made more sense? The servants are there to protect her.”

Kipp glanced down at the floor. “She said they couldn’t stop Buchanan if he wanted to break into the house and abduct her or the boy. So she left at night and took trains all the way up to Paris.”

He paused a moment and put a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “When’s Vic due? May twelfth?”

“Any time now.”

“So you have enough to worry about. I’ll handle this. You handle the birth.”

Ben laughed. “I won’t do the delivery, if that’s what you mean. But I’ll be pacing outside the door until Pittmeadow puts him in my arms.”

“It could be the first girl of the bunch.”

“Whatever we get, I’ll be happy.”

Michael remained standing, hands in his pockets, his eyes dark. “I’ll be happy when the baby’s born, Ben. And when you touch down with Caroline and her kid, Kipp. Not before.”

Sir William stood in his dressing gown in the doorway winding his pocket watch as Lady Elizabeth sat up in bed reading. “I wanted to say goodnight, my dear. I believe the dinner and conversation went well, considering all that’s happened between our two families.”

Lady Elizabeth set her book down on the bedspread. “I think so too. Madeleine and I had a good talk when we were in the parlor. Did you find Francis quite open?”

“Yes. He was all right. Well, goodnight. We’ll see you at breakfast.”

“William. Did he mention his daughter?”

“Oh, yes. He’s quite happy about his grandson, Charles.”

“Did he ever bring up the boy’s father? Buchanan?”

“Hmm? Yes. He wondered where the man had got to.”

“What did you tell him?”

Sir William raised one shoulder in a shrug and made a face. “There was nothing to say. I haven’t any idea where he is.”

“Why do you suppose he wants to find him?”

“No idea.”

“Madeleine is worried he means to duel again.”

“What?” Sir William put the watch in the pocket of his gown with his gloved hand. “Is that what you think?”

“I don’t know what to think. It’s what she thinks. She says he’s acting exactly the way he did before he challenged you. She’s convinced he’s transferred his animosity toward our family and our boys to Buchanan. I wonder if you might have a word with him about this.”

“We’re not that close, Elizabeth. I expect he’d just raise his drawbridge and lock everything up tight if I asked. Surely there’s nothing to this.”

Lady Elizabeth played with the cover of the book. “It might be a wife’s anxieties, nothing more. But he has been shooting again, William.”

His eyes narrowed. “She’s certain about this?”

“He told her he needs to be as accurate with his left hand as he was with his right. As accurate as you, he said. That was just before they drove up here from Oxfordshire.” She watched her husband take this all in. “I wish you would find some way to talk some sense into him.”

Sir William glanced at the blind pulled tightly over her window. “I don’t know that I can.”

“Right, I’ve got Wynken, Blynken, and Nod trussed up safely in the motorcar. Are you ready?” Jeremiah put a hand on each side of the doorframe and leaned into the vicarage, turning his head to the right. “Hullo. Where are you?”

A voice came from far inside the house. “I said I’d be there.”

“Do you need help with anything?”

“I don’t.”

Jeremiah stepped back outside and squinted up at the May sun. Fast steps behind him were followed by a rush of air as Emma swept past clutching several pieces of luggage. She glanced back over her shoulder. “I thought you were in an all-fired hurry.”

Hands in his pockets, Jeremiah walked to the car, opened the driver’s door, and slid behind the wheel. Emma stared rigidly ahead from the passenger’s seat. He looked at her as the boys began to squabble.

“So how long does this go on?” he asked.

“Does what go on?”

“You punishing me for being an Anglican minister.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” Emma whipped her head around. “That’s quite enough you three. No more of it. I am out of patience today.” She faced front again. “Hadn’t we better get going?”

“Not until you talk a bit more civilly.”

“For heaven’s sake.” She exaggerated a smile and turned it on him. “Reverend Jeremiah Sweet, will you please put the motorcar in gear and take us to Ashton Park before God kills another one of my sister Victoria’s children? Thank you and may the good Lord bless you.”

“Emma!” he hissed. “Must you act this way in front of the boys?”

“I’m not acting. Please put the car in gear.”

“Emma—”

“I’ve heard all your sermons, Jeremiah. Over and over I’ve sat in that hard pew and let them fall on my ears. Let me work this through in my own way.”

“Work it through? You’ve been going on like this for the past two months.”

“Not quite.”

Jeremiah turned the key and the car engine rumbled. “If Vic has a healthy baby, will that be the end of your performance of Job?”

“Do you think I’m performing?”

“I’m just wondering what it would take to see you friends with God once more.”

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “A lot more than you have to offer. I’d sooner be married to a bricklayer who spent his Sundays smoking cigarettes and drinking beer.”

“Emma—”

“Stop this
Emma
rubbish, will you? And be grateful I haven’t packed up the children and moved to the Lodge in Scotland, far away from your pulpit and parish. Don’t talk to me anymore. You boys settle down. I am going to have a nap while we drive. You may wake me up when there’s a proper adult to speak with.”

April 1922

It was late in the afternoon when Kipp finally made his way from the airfield to the address Caroline had sent him. The street was busy with cars and trucks and horse-drawn wagons, and people swarmed over the sidewalks. He stood across from the hotel and ate a croissant sprinkled with almond slices while watching the faces going past for ten minutes, but he saw no sign of Tanner Buchanan in the crowd.

Eventually Kipp wiped his hands on his pants and made his way through the traffic. The hotel lobby was empty and a clerk promised to ring Michele St. Laurent, the name Caroline was traveling under. He stood by a window and glanced out while he waited.