Summerset Abbey: Spring Awakening (Summerset Abbey Trilogy) (14 page)

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“See you when you get back!” Albert yelled over the engine of the latest French SPAD aeroplane Rowena sat in. The French had let the English “borrow” the fighter in an attempt to build parts for it. Mr. Dirkes had his engineers pore over it for several days before sending it back to Hastings and then home. Though she’d made several runs for Mr. Dirkes, she had never flown a fighter, and the new SPAD, with its long, tapered fuselage and streamlined nacelle mounted in front of the engine and the propeller, was one of the best. As excited as Rowena was to fly a new aeroplane, the thought of the machine gun inside the nacelle churned her stomach.

Once she got the go-ahead from Albert, she eased the throttle forward and made a smooth takeoff. She checked her instruments, which were far more advanced than in the Flying Alices, an aeroplane only used for training now because they were almost obsolete. Practically every time she climbed into the cockpit of a new aeroplane since the war broke out, something had been added, changed, or improved. The added center struts in this aircraft gave it a concrete feel, and she played with the pedals to see if it would flex in the wind. Nothing. Solid as a rock. After checking her flight log and compass, she turned toward Hastings and enjoyed the smooth ride.

Flying for Mr. Dirkes made it a joy to get up each morning. Rowena felt she was finally doing something that had meaning and purpose. Her uncle had surprisingly been on her side . . . though the conversation with her aunt hadn’t gone so well.

“So now I not only have to worry about my son dying in a ditch somewhere, but also about my niece flying into a mountain. How simply wonderful for me,” Aunt Charlotte had said.

“I’m not going to crash into a mountain, Aunt Charlotte. I am far too skilled a pilot for that,” Rowena had answered.

Aunt Charlotte had snorted. “And we can add that to the list of sentences I never thought to come out of your mouth, my dear.”

Sometimes Rowena wondered if Aunt Charlotte meant to be funny or if it was simply her bitterness.

Rowena’s case was bigger than usual because she would be staying overnight in Hastings. Sebastian was to meet her this evening, and they were going to spend the next day in Brighton. It would be different off-season, of course, but she would get to see him. At least that was the plan. As with anything, plans were subject to military discretion. Rowena had been incredibly lucky with the aeroplanes and had never had a moment’s trouble with them, though seasoned pilots warned her that it was only a matter of time.

But not today, she exulted, climbing above the cloud cover. Not today. And this evening she would see Sebastian, a thought that buoyed her spirits almost as much as the flight itself.

She recalled the last letter she had received from him, a letter filled with words that had touched her and opened her heart to the possibility that her friendship with Sebastian was blossoming into something more meaningful. He had written:

My dear Rowena,

Of course, my brilliant, brave girl would be flying aero-planes all over England for the military. I would expect nothing less. Please be careful, always remembering how many people love you, myself included. Our future children also wish you to take care. . . .

Myself included . . .

The thought of Sebastian’s loving her warmed her chest, and for the first time, she felt that she could love him back. It might not be the same wild, passionate love that she’d felt for Jon, but it would be based on far more than a love of flight and physical attraction.

As always, the time passed swiftly and before long she was winding downward to make a landing. She had never been to Hastings before and hoped it was a good field.

It wasn’t. She made a smooth landing, but immediately after her wheels touched down, the aeroplane veered to the left and her shoulder was slammed into the edge of the cockpit. The machine jerked to an inelegant stop, and her neck snapped forward painfully.

The aeroplane shuddered. “Blast!” she cried once the engine stilled. Not waiting for the men she saw running toward her, she undid her harness and carefully stepped out onto the wing before leaping to the ground.
Please don’t let anything be broken
, she prayed, taking careful inventory.

One of the two men reached her. “Don’t you know the hangar is over there?” He spotted her face and his mouth flew open.

“What the hell were you thinking?” the other yelled from behind her.

The voice broke over her like the swell of a tsunami and she turned as her pulse pounded in her ears.

Jon.

He saw her then and skidded to a stop, shock registering on his features before his face shuttered, becoming impassive.

Rowena froze. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t function. She knew she should be explaining herself, but her lips felt curiously numb.

“What is a damn woman doing piloting a plane?”

“Shut up, Parker,” Jon finally said. “What happened?” he asked, avoiding her eyes.

Trembling inside, she nodded toward a sinkhole in the field about the size of one of her wheels. “I hit that when I landed.” She gestured toward the hole. “The aeroplane leapt out of control.”

Jon and Parker walked over to the hole. “Looks like a giant gopher dug this one, Wells.”

Jon nodded. “Let’s get someone out here to fill it up, eh?” He turned to Rowena. His eyes flickered ever so slightly as they grazed over her. No one except Rowena would be able to tell that her presence had shaken him to his core.

Good.

The last time she had seen him, he’d been walking away from her. Let him see and remember what he’d walked away from.

“Did Dirkes send you?”

She nodded. “I’m ferrying aeroplanes for him because there aren’t enough pilots available.”

He nodded. “I figured it was something like that. Do you have a bag?”

Rowena nodded, and he leapt easily onto the wing and fished out her leatherbound flight log and satchel. He jumped back
down, handed her the book, and started across the field toward the hangar and outbuildings of the base.

She followed with a worried glance back toward the plane.

Jon must have caught her concern. “Don’t worry about it. If there’s anything wrong with it, we’ll fix it. The French are too busy to quibble much anyway.”

“There won’t be any.” She peeped sideways at him as they walked. His profile was the same. Strong jaw and nose, same thin, perfectly formed mouth. She shivered, remembering how many times that mouth had been on hers. His shaggy, strawberry-blond hair had been trimmed short, and he wore his well-made uniform with ease. She swallowed; the sight of him still took her breath away. It also ushered in a rush of feelings more confusing than the images in a kaleidoscope. Carrying her bag, he marched furiously across the field as if he couldn’t wait to deposit her at headquarters.

He probably couldn’t.

She firmed her chin. That was just fine with her, but she was under no obligation to make it easy for him. “I saw Cristobel the other day. She misses you.”

His long legs faltered for a moment at the mention at something so personal, and Rowena felt a twinge of triumph that she had rattled him. She also felt a ripple of pain. After all these months, it still hurt to know he couldn’t possibly have loved her as much as she loved him. She’d never have walked away the way he did. It made her angry that he still had power over her, that seeing him still hurt her terribly. It meant a part of her still loved him. Yet how could she, when she was committed to Sebastian? And when her love was stained with so much hurt and anger? Her eyes swept down to the ring on her finger, Jon looking at her from the corner of her eye.

He said nothing at the mention of his little sister, and Rowena fought an urge to slap him. Instead, she took refuge in being aloof and coldly professional.

“I believe Mr. Dirkes is going to start building SPAD-like aeroplanes,” she said, just to say something.

“I’m sure he will, as that’s the reason he borrowed it. He could build aeroplanes day and night from now until Easter and still not fulfill the contracts the government has given him.”

The tautness of his tone shivered down her spine. Why was he behaving so coldly? What had she done to merit such hostility?
He
had walked away from
her
.

He escorted her around the hangar to a square where temporary buildings had been erected in a hasty attempt to build a base. The tension between them was so uncomfortable that Rowena was relieved when they reached headquarters. Jon saluted the commander. “Miss Buxton has brought in the SPAD from the Dirkes factory, Colonel Atkins. There was a problem with the landing, but the aeroplane is in one piece and we are fixing the problem.”

The colonel nodded. “And I trust you are in one piece as well, Miss Buxton?”

She nodded. “I am very well, thank you.”

“When Douglas Dirkes called and told me a young woman would be delivering the aeroplane, I have to admit I was quite surprised. Seeing how lovely you are only increases my amazement at your accomplishments. Mr. Dirkes must have a great deal of confidence in your abilities, Miss Buxton.”

She smiled, not daring to look at Jon. “He knew I had a good instructor.”

“May I be dismissed, sir?” Jon asked abruptly.

“Of course, Lieutenant. And good luck.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Rowena felt her body deflate when Jon slammed the door behind him. Just like that, he was gone.

Again.

The colonel said something, and with effort Rowena dragged her attention back to him. “Pardon?”

“I said I will have someone drive you to the inn in Hastings. He said you had a ride back to the factory tomorrow, correct?”

Rowena nodded. “I’m actually not going back to the factory right away. My fiancé is meeting me this evening and we’re going to spend the day in Brighton before he takes me back.”

“Very well, then.” The colonel led her out into the square where his own motorcar had been pulled up. His hand lingered on her elbow for a little longer than necessary, but Rowena was used to that. Most of the men she dealt with had been away from their sweethearts for far too long.

She kept her composure, chatting to the private who drove her into town and to the innkeeper, who asked if she would be down to dinner. She assured him she would and was expecting company. Then she went upstairs on legs that shook more than mere exhaustion would have warranted. But not until she shut the door behind her and sat on the slender, white, organdy-covered bed did she let the tears that had been building up during the scant fifteen minutes she had spent in Jon’s presence surface.

All of the old insecurities, anger, and heartbreak came rushing back, but even as she wiped her face with a handkerchief, she knew the difference between the tears of last spring and the tears of today. Whereas once her tears had been born of fury and grief, now they were born of regret and the thought of what might have been.

Rowena took a deep, shuddering breath before going into the small water closet and splashing her cold face with water. She changed out of her flying clothes. The uniform she and Mr. Dirkes had discussed had never materialized, and Rowena was thankful. She far preferred her warm woolen split skirt, much like the kind one wore for bicycling, a heavy woolen sweater, and the new leather jacket Victoria had sent her from London with a note that contained a stanza from Percy Bysshe Shelley’s poem “To a Skylark”:

Higher still and higher

From the earth thou springest,

Like a cloud of fire;

The blue deep thou wingest,

And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.

Rowena kept the note in the pocket of her jacket and wore it every time she flew.

She slipped into a simple gabardine suit with pleats in the front and back of the skirt and a row of tiny tortoiseshell buttons going up the front of the jacket. She’d chosen the gabardine because the material traveled well and took little fuss. She’d also brought an automobile coat, as she and Sebastian would be driving to Brighton in the morning and then on to Summerset tomorrow night.

Unsure of what time Sebastian would be getting in, she decided to go for a short walk to stretch her legs. Sitting in an aeroplane was wonderful, but not exactly comfortable. She buttoned up her automobile coat and checked her face in the mirror. Her eyes were still puffy, and though she preferred going
bareheaded now, she picked up the small taffeta hat she wore in a roofless motorcar. She arranged the netting designed to protect her face to hide the redness of her eyes.

Like Brighton, Hastings was a fishing and resort town, and the shops and buildings catered to the upper classes. Unlike other resort towns, the place did not have a sad and lonely feeling as if abandoned by tourists, but rather a sense of relief as if the locals, mostly fishermen and their families, were glad to be rid of the lot of them. She walked along the promenade and noted that though many of the shops were already shuttered for the winter, others were doing a brisk trade among the locals.

She spotted an open bookshop and decided to go find something to read.
Losing herself in a book would be a welcome distraction. Perhaps she could find a place to have tea and read until Sebastian came.

The shop was old and cluttered and smelt of both the sea and old books, which wasn’t unpleasant, and Rowena spirits lifted as she browsed. An old man with an even older top hat sat behind the desk reading. He had barely glanced up when she entered except to bid her good afternoon. He and the striped tabby cat sitting on the counter next to him both turned away as if she were no longer of any interest.

The Jane Austens tempted her, but then she spotted E. M. Forster’s
Howards End
. She’d read
A Room with a View
and adored it, but hadn’t yet read this one, though it had been out for several years.

Rowena was paying for the book and was just about to leave when the bell above the door tinkled. Recognition jolted through her body. Jon.