Black Knights of the Hudson
Book V: War Clouds in the East
by Beverly C. Gray
Published by Beverly C. Gray at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Beverly C. Gray
This eBook is a work of historical fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Author’s Note: This work of historical fiction is intended for mature audiences and contains adult language, graphic scenes of battle, and adult situations.
For all who serve
Chapter 1
New York, June 1915
Adria MacKendrick fingered the envelope that her butler, Larkin, had just placed into her hand. She glanced at the address and her breath went out in a long sigh. Margaret MacKendrick, Capital Herald, London office.
Finally, a letter from Maggie. Now I’ll find out the details about Fitzjames. All we’ve had was the one little wire from Jack that told us my Son survived. I’ve never in my life seen Timothy as upset as he was when we first heard that the Lusitania was attacked by a German U-boat and sunk. Not even when Fitz had typhoid and we came so close to losing him. Of course, it may just be age so that he doesn’t handle things as well as he used to. Nonsense. There is nothing wrong with Timothy. He wasn’t just frightened about Fitz. He was furious. He kept muttering names of officers I’ve never heard of before and cursed the British War Office as well as our own War Department. He was terrifying. It was almost as if he believed that both of them personally put his Son in danger. But I don’t understand how that can be? There is some mystery about the entire business. You could have knocked me flat when Fitz was here before he sailed. A two jump promotion in a peace time Army and a switch to the Engineers from his beloved Cavalry? I’ve been married to the Army long enough to know both actions are unusual if not unprecedented. Anyway, there was no reason for Fitzjames to have been on that ship at all. I don’t understand why Timothy doesn’t want the children to know either. They’ve all been told Fitz is off on a tour of the Western Army posts.
It’s one thing to have Philip and Maggie at risk right now. They’ve turned the ‘Capital Herald’ into one of the foremost newspapers abroad as well as here so it’s logical for Philip to serve as a war correspondent in France as he did in Cuba. It’s natural for Maggie to run the London office. It even makes sense for our nephew, Jackson Lee, to be in danger since he’s the Military Attaché at our Embassy in London. But I don’t understand why Fitz was even going to England. I’ve asked Timothy ever since the Lusitania went down but all he does is GROWL at me. That’s unheard of as well. Well, not the growling part. Every now and then he does lose patience with me but it’s brief. He has never sustained the growl.
I don’t understand why Timothy has received so many visitors and letters in the past six months? It’s almost as if he’s in the Army again in some capacity or other. But that’s unprecedented too, isn’t it? He’s been retired for years now. This war in Europe, it’s not even our war. Wasn’t that one of our main reasons for separating from England to begin with? So the European wars wouldn’t spill over onto our soil the way they did during the French and Indian Wars? I have to agree with President Wilson on this at least. Europe is not our concern. We have no business getting involved. Whatever mischief the European countries engage in, keep it over there and keep our young men home to defend our soil. We’re not colonialists like the British or French. We don’t need to carve out an empire. We should mind our own business.
Well, let’s see what Maggie has to say. Hmmm, Jack went to Ireland and fetched Fitzjames back. But he wasn’t hurt. All he suffered was a cold. After hours in the Irish Sea, he escaped with just a heavy cold. I’ll let Elsa have this. It’s mostly about Fitz. That was interesting too. Not one whimper from her while we waited those long, terrible hours before we knew for sure that he was alive. She was so composed, so quiet. Then, when we received Jack’s wire, she seemed to melt. Just went limp and started to cry in Timothy’s arms. I was the same way when my soldier was in danger. I can remember waiting for Uncle Lafe to bring the battle reports from Tennessee and Virginia. I never cried when I believed that Timothy was dead or wounded. I only cried after, when I knew that he was safe.
Adria squinted at the clock on the mantel. She banged her cane imperiously on the floor.
A head, covered in golden curls, poked into the room inquiringly. “Did you bang, Grandmother?” Chloe grinned cheekily as she walked over to the wing chair in which her grandmother sat like a queen on a throne.
It was a standing joke in the family that Adria would not deign to use the crystal bell placed within reach of her hand but relied instead on the more peremptory summons. “I did. Where is everyone?”
Chloe placed her finger against the corner of her mouth and her big blue eyes widened as she concentrated. “Well, Grandfather and Aurora went for a ride in the Park. Elsa went shopping with Mrs. Van Meyer. She said they were going to meet Mr. Van Meyer for tea somewhere. John didn’t say where he was going. Rand is in the library and Timmie got back from her tennis game about twenty minutes ago. I ordered tea since I assume everyone will turn up soon. We MacKendricks never miss our feeds.”
“Excellent. I’m ravenous today for some reason.”
“Me too. Can I get you anything before I run up to wash my hands?”
“No, Dear. I’m fine,” Adria shifted fretfully on the sofa as Chloe disappeared. This is what comes of being an old woman stuck in a chair; left behind while everyone else has fun. I don’t see why Timothy didn’t take me for a drive. Well, yes I do. He tries to spend a little time with each of the Grandchildren every day. Aurora is the only one that likes to ride so it makes sense for him to take her to the park. I wish he wouldn’t. He’s almost seventy five now and still rides almost every day as if he was young. The only concession he makes is that the horses are far quieter than the ones he used to ride. This mare he has now is almost as old as he is; in horse age. We have almost all of the young ones with us too: Fitzjames’ Aurora; Philip’s John, Chloe, and Randolph; Dorothea’s Timmie. We’re only missing Oliver and Robert. Rob’s with Dorothea and Barnabas at the Presidio. Since Oliver is a Firstie, he’ll spend the summer under canvas on West Point’s Plain. It seems like only a little while ago that it was Fitz in the cadet gray. Not that long back to Oliver’s father, Randolph, either.
I must be getting old. Time slips so now. Sometimes, when he’s out of my sight, Timothy at twenty five is more real to me than Timothy at seventy five. He’s still so young. Only a few little lines, only a slight stoop, his hair is still thick and a lovely shade of silver, glasses for when he reads. The nicest thing about having a houseful of Grandchildren is that they fill our days. Timothy and I were getting a bit stale. But now the children do keep things lively. John brings his college chums home for the weekends. With Chloe and Timmie here, the smart New York debutantes and their younger sisters congregate as well. Young matrons stop by constantly to see Elsa. And with Randolph and Aurora, we even get the small fry.
There was a rattle of china in the hall as Chloe and Timothea headed into the library; Larkin and the tea cart right behind. Adria watched with smug pride as her lovely granddaughters took their places. Timmie’s dark hair gleamed seal-brown along its smooth waves while Chloe’s riotous curls sparkled like sun beams. Timmie was a thoughtful, intelligent girl whose high spirits were masked carefully by her demure exterior. Only her gray-green eyes hinted at the mischief that lurked beneath her gracious demeanor. Her choice of clothes tended to the very simple. She wore a pale ivory crepe de chine with only a strand of pearls for ornament. Chloe was in a fussy blue dress which dripped ribbons, lace and ruffles. A matching blue bow sat rakishly on the side of her head and she had put on almost every piece of jewelry she owned.
God help the poor males who fall into Chloe’s clutches. She’s almost eighteen and she already has the instincts of a professional belle. I couldn’t believe the number of boys who were in tears during the high school commencement when they came to say good bye. As for Timothea, I suspect that cool exterior masks the same kind of selfishness I always had. I hope Timmie is wise enough to find a man like I did. One who won’t brook her nonsense but will put her back on her heels now and then like Timothy did for me. Otherwise, God help the poor males who fall in love with her. She’ll make them miserable. At least with Chloe, the poor souls will have fun on the way to their own demise.
Timothea sat down on the sofa; sedate in her nineteen-year old poise.
Chloe, with no dignity to speak of, flopped comfortably on a footstool beside Adria. “It’s so nice being here with you, Granny,” Chloe looked sideways at Adria as if to see how she was taking the term “granny”. Then she helped herself greedily to a cream bun.
Oh no you don’t, Infant. I may have to rely on a wheel chair and cane to get around now, but I’m still way ahead of you and I’m not going to take any notice of your teasing. “Grandfather and I like having all of you here as well,” Adria’s hand had only a slight tremor as she dispensed tea from the glistening silver pot.
“Ha, caught in the act,” Timothy declared as he and Aurora entered the drawing room. “How do you like that? We’re right on time and the others have already started without us.”
“Your tea, General,” Adria smiled and handed him a cup. “I have never known you to be late and assumed that you would enter the door at the exact moment I prepared your cup.”
“Uh huh,” Timothy snorted. “Isn’t it convenient that we like it the same way?”
“Here, Aurora,” Adria placed a cup that was half hot tea and half sweetened milk beside Chloe’s.
Chloe pulled up a second footstool for her six-year old cousin. “What would you like to eat, Baby? The cream buns are scrumptious or would you prefer a macaroon?”
Aurora considered the sweets. “A makroon, please.”
Chloe fixed her plate and, for a moment, the two golden heads bent side by side.
Strange how the children are so at ease. Eighteen months ago when Fitz brought Aurora to us, I expected that Chloe and Randolph would have all sorts of questions. But they didn’t. They just seemed to accept Aurora’s presence as if she belonged with us. Well, of course she does and Rand is so quiet one never knows what he’s thinking anyway. But Chloe is old enough to understand the...unusualness of the situation and yet, from the start, she was a perfect big sister to the little girl. I don’t even think about it myself any longer. Timothy, though, he was so reserved over the child at first. Almost as if he was trying to withhold his affection. He didn’t warm to her immediately the way the rest of us did. I suppose, with his particular code of honor, a bastard child by his son was a little difficult to accept. That surprised me too. I would have expected that I would be the one to be shocked and horrified. But I wasn’t at all. After the first stunned realization that Aurora was Fitzjames’ natural daughter, all I could feel was gratitude that his hope of a child didn’t die with the baby Elsa lost. Of course, a lot of that had to do with Elsa herself. It was obvious that she loved Aurora dearly and I couldn’t raise an objection in the face of that.
Whatever was bothering Timothy though, seems to be over. He’s positively smitten with Aurora now. Even in just a few weeks, that bright little soul has wriggled right into his heart. He watches her the way he used to watch Fitz when he was little with the same proud, amused gleam in his eyes when she’s being particularly cute or clever. I always wondered what a female version of Timothy would be like. My Dorothea wasn’t. She has her Father’s charm but not the rest of it. Her son Rob seems more Randolph like his father, Barnabas. Chloe and Timmie haven’t got that MacKendrick spark in total either. Just bits, not the full combination of light-hearted heedlessness and intelligence. It will be fun to watch Aurora grow up. It will be interesting to see how the traits that mark her father and grandfather develop in a girl. Timothy says she’s like me too. That she has my nose and chin. Well, maybe. But I don’t sense the same selfishness in her. No, she may have some of my features but that determination and strength that he commented on don’t come from me. They come straight from Timothy himself. There is a generosity of spirit in the child that I never had. That comes from Timothy through Fitz as well. Even if she does have a tinge of my less desirable qualities, Elsa will make sure they don’t amount to anything. What a perfect mother for a female version of Timothy and Fitzjames. Elsa has the ideal mix of gentleness and good sense to keep those high spirits and staggering intelligence within reasonable limits.
Timothy reached over to snag a cream bun for himself. “What do you children have planned for this evening?
“We left it up to John,” replied Timothea as she accepted a second cup from the attentive Larkin.
“Yes. I told John that we were willing to do anything; provided we go see Cousin Hallie in her new moving picture,” Chloe beamed around her cream bun.
“I thought you saw that a couple of nights ago?”
“She did,” laughed Timothea.
“I just adore her.”
“I thought you preferred the other one?” Timothy tilted his head.
“Other one?”
“The one with all the curls?”
“Oh, Mary Pickford. Yes, I like her all right, but Cousin Hallie is so exotic and tempting. I wish I could slink the way she does,” sighed Chloe.
Who would ever have suspected that the shy, bespectacled young English girl we met at Newport with the Marquess and her sisters would become one of the most famous actresses in these new moving pictures. I even enjoyed seeing her film and I didn’t think I’d like moving pictures at all. I wish they had sound though. I still prefer the theater but that’s because I like music so much.
“One of us will never be able to slink if she keeps making a pig of herself over the cream buns,” Timothea observed.
Chloe shrugged carelessly and reached for her second pastry. “Nobody makes them like Chef. Besides, boys like a full figure.”
“Pleasingly plump girls can turn into fat old ladies,” Timothea said. “Look at Mrs. Van Meyer. I imagine she was a plump little thing and now look at her. She has at least four chins and the dimensions of a zeppelin.”
“So she does. However, when I’m as old and as rich as she is, I shan’t care either,” Chloe bit into her second bun with relish.
“Girls,” Adria murmured reprovingly. “Martha is my dearest friend and I expect you to show some respect.”
Timothy put another macaroon on Aurora’s plate. “By the way, where’s Rand?”
“The library,” Adria and Chloe said in unison.
Timothy grinned. “Inevitably, is he still on the ancient Romans?”
Aurora looked up. “He said he was tired of reading about acciducks.”
“Hmm, so he’s moved on from aqueducts. Now what?”
“Golgy,” Aurora supplied.
“Golgy?” Adria’s eyes widened. “What in heaven’s name is that?”
“Geology, rocks,” said thirteen-year old Randolph as he wandered into the drawing room through the double doors that separated it from Timothy’s library. A very large, fat book was tucked under his arm and his dark hair flopped untidily over his forehead. “Tea, please?”
Adria fixed him a cup. Rand never said more than was necessary and sometimes it was difficult to decipher his rare comments.
“Thanks,” his horizon blue eyes met Adria’s briefly before he retreated behind his spectacles. Rand set his tea cup carefully on the floor by the fireplace, stretched out his lanky frame, and opened the book.
Aurora got up from her stool, collected her own tea cup and sat cross legged beside him while he showed her different pictures in the book.
Oh Lord, now we have two of them. “Aurora, Dear, come back here to finish your tea.”
Aurora looked back over her shoulder at Adria. “Why?”
“Manners, Dear. A lady always drinks her tea with the rest of the company.”
“But I want to see Rand’s book,” Aurora said.
“He can show it to you later when he looks at it AFTER TEA,” Adria stated firmly.
Rand lifted his head and gazed at Adria with the calm, unruffled expression he presented to the world. Then he sat up and whispered something to the little girl. He got to his feet, picked the book up, and set it on the table beside the sofa. He collected his tea cup and Aurora’s. He placed Aurora’s beside Chloe’s and sat down beside Timmie on the sofa.
Aurora frowned slightly but returned to the stool by Chloe.
“Thank you, Randolph,” Adria said.
He smiled and shocked her by winking. Gracious, there’s a MacKendrick in there after all!
The front door slammed and John breezed into the drawing room. His fair hair was a bit tousled from a drive. “Look what followed me home. Can we keep him?”
“Oliver!” squealed Chloe as she scrambled to her feet to pounce on her cousin.
Timothea rose gracefully and went straight to the tall young man to give him a kiss. “Hello, Darling.”
Adria exchanged startled glances with her husband. This can’t be good. How can Oliver be here? What has he done?
“Ah, tea,” said John as he took possession of Chloe’s stool. “Hmmm, cream buns too.”
Oliver stood with one arm around Chloe and the other around Timothea. His uniform was mussed rather than its usual pristine gray. His gray-green eyes remained on the floor.
“Oliver, would you like some tea as well?” Adria shot an anxious look at Timothy whose expression had slipped into his lieutenant general’s face.
“No, yes. I guess so,” Oliver remained standing until Timothea pulled him over to the sofa so that he could sit next to her. Chloe got the tea cup from Adria and carried it over.
Oliver didn’t say a word during the rest of tea. Although he sat with the tall grace expected of a Cadet, he gave the impression of a small boy huddled on the bench outside of a principal’s office.
“Oliver, the library,” Timothy said as he finally set his cup aside.
Oliver took a deep breath and straightened. He preceded Timothy into the room. Adria bit her lip and then looked at the other youngsters. “Well, don’t just sit there. Go find something to do.”
~~~
Timothy sat behind his desk and Oliver stood at attention in front of him.
“I’m not the Commandant of Cadets, Son,” Timothy smiled. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable sitting in a chair?”
Oliver suddenly grinned. “Can’t help it, Sir, I can never quite forget who you are.”
“I’m your Grandfather,” Timothy observed mildly. And have acted as your father ever since your own parents died when you were a baby. My poor lost Randolph who should never have attended West Point. If I had only realized when he was young that he lacked some of the strength of character that the rest of us have. Maybe I could have steered him into something that wouldn’t have damaged him so that he was unable to cope with Olivia’s death when Oliver was born.
“You’re also one of the living legends of the Army.”
“Hmm, but I’m retired and have no authority over a Cadet,” didn’t do me much good when I wanted to stop this foolishness involving my youngest boy, either. Oh yes, let’s just pluck Fitzjames from the Cavalry and the United States Army and send him off to the British War Office where he can study their methods for military intelligence while they fight their war against Germany. In a year, we’ll bring him back and he can help reorganize our own Military Intelligence Division. Oh yes, sent him off just in time to sail on the Lusitania, damn them all.
“It’s like this, Grandfather,” Oliver continued to stand at attention.
“Oh sit down, Boy. I’ve never given you reason to be afraid of me. At least I hope I haven’t.”
Oliver pulled an armchair over and set it across from Timothy. He sat and folded his hands on the desk but seemed to have trouble meeting Timothy’s level gaze. He was one of the dark MacKendricks and his near sable hair waved slightly even with the short cut. Thoughtful and serious, he was an exemplary cadet who stood near the top of his class. He had been dubbed “Young Lee” by his classmates for his adherence to the standard set by their distant cousin, Robert E. Lee, eighty years before.
“Let’s start with the obvious,” Timothy said when his grandson seemed unable to do more than clear his throat. “Why aren’t you under canvas with the rest of the Firsties?”
“It’s all right, Sir. I haven’t been found or anything terrible. The Superintendant gave ten of us a week furlough.”
“Why?”
“He wants us to reconsider our decision.”
“Hmmm. What decision?”
“To resign, Sir, and go to Canada.”
“I see. What brought this on?” oh hell, not another one. How can I have so many of my boys at risk when it isn’t even our own damned war?
“He believes that we’ll come to our senses. But we won’t, Grandfather. We made a vow. We promised Will that we’d...”
“Slow down, Oliver. Back up. Why do ten First Classmen want to resign much less charge off to Canada?”
“Will Dorman’s parents were on the Lusitania.”
Timothy closed his eyes briefly. “I’m very sorry to hear that, Oliver. Were they...”
“Drowned, Grandfather. They never found their bodies. It was pretty awful. Dorman knew they were aboard. Some of the fellahs and I stayed with him while he waited to hear. The damned Huns didn’t even give that ship a warning! They sank her with women and children aboard!”
“Yes, I know,” Timothy said. “So, because Will Dorman’s parents were killed, you and your cohorts have decided to resign from West Point, gallop across the border, enlist with the Canadian territorial forces so that you can go to France, and shoot yourselves some Germans?”
“Yes, Sir. We swore a solemn vow that we would avenge the innocents killed by the dirty swine.”
“Don’t you think it might make better sense to stay for your last year and go over with your own Army?” we will be in it eventually. It’s going to be a bloody, nasty business. Well, more of a bloody, nasty business than it already is. Wilson and his peace robes won’t be able to keep us out forever. Not if Germany continues to throw her muscle around and sink civilian ships.
“Not likely with that pacifist fool in the White House. Dorman’s pretty bitter about it. So are the rest of us. It is incomprehensible to me that Germany has been permitted to get away with sinking a civilian vessel. Wilson certainly should have done more than just make a feeble protest. We should have declared war immediately. The others and I have decided to go over and personally attend to these middle European barbarians since our schoolmarm of a President won’t aid England and France. We went to the Superintendent’s office together but he refused to accept our resignations. Instead, he told us to take a week and cool off.”
“Seems a reasonable suggestion. I wouldn’t want ten of my First Classmen throwing away their careers and barging off to France, either.”
“Grandfather, you don’t understand any more than Colonel Townsley! You don’t know what it was like to sit with Will all those hours, wondering if his parents were alive. You can’t begin to understand the anguish as you watch your friend imagine his Mother and Father sliding beneath the sea.”
“Fitzjames was on the Lusitania,” Timothy said quietly.
“What? But Fitz is out West. On an inspection tour.”
“Fitz sailed on the Lusitania for an assignment in London.”
Oliver moistened dry lips. “Is he...do we know if...”
“Yes, he survived. Jack sent a wire as soon as he found out.”
“My God, I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t know because we chose not to tell any of you. Only your Grandmother and Elsa knew and the family in London. So you see, Oliver, I do know what it is like to sit helplessly for hours although, in my case, I was imagining my Son drowning in that cold sea.”
“But what is Fitz doing in London?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, there’s not much call for our Cavalry in London right now, is there?”
Timothy fiddled with the pen from the handsome desk set Joseph Van Meyer had given him when he started writing his first book. “No, but he’s not Cavalry anymore.”
“Not Cavalry? Fitz? But he’s like you. He loves the Cavalry.”
“Times change,” Timothy sighed. “The face of war changes as well. Cavalry, as I knew it, isn’t going to be very effective in the future and something will have to take its place. Your Uncle has extraordinary qualities. He’s...investigating other possibilities.”
“But Grandfather!”
“Oliver, I understand your desire to support your classmate in his grief. I also understand your wish to take care of the Germans personally. I feel the same way. When I first heard that the Lusitania was sunk without warning, it was all I could do not to go straight to Washington and demand that our leaders take swift and decisive action. But, I can’t take the military strength of this country into my own hands any more than you can. We’re not built that way, Son. The military of the United States is designed to be subordinate to our civilian leaders from the President on down. There’s a reason for it. There’s a reason our forefathers set things up this way. It’s not always easy to sit and take the punch either when those leaders choose not to act.”
“But what can we do, Sir?”
“We wait and see. As usual, your Great-Aunt Gwyneth has the pulse of the Congress. She wrote that they’re as much appalled by this act of barbarism as the rest of us. It will get more and more difficult for Wilson to maintain his desire for neutrality. We’re already sending supplies and materials to support England. Quietly, but still, we’ve shown our hand that much. If the Germans continue this policy of sinking Allied vessels, and I see no reason why they’ll stop since they’ve learned they can do so with impunity, war is inevitable. Oh, not this year, perhaps not even next. But someone is bound to escalate matters to the point that Wilson won’t be able to keep that pristine robe of peace unsullied without looking like a complete fool.”
“But Grandfather.”
“Oliver, I know you’re upset. I know how angry you are. I am too. But I want you to follow Colonel Townsley’s recommendation to take a week to think about this. You only have a year left, Son. You’ll be throwing your career away on a quixotic quest. You do realize that, even with three years at the Academy, you may not get a commission. You may wind up a common enlisted man in a foreign army.”
“Canada’s not foreign.”
“For this purpose, yes she is,” Timothy’s steady gaze caught and held his grandson’s eyes. “Oliver, I want your word of honor that you will think very carefully about this from ALL angles. After you’ve thought about it for a few days, we’ll continue this discussion.”
Chapter 2
New York, June 1915
Oliver had been home for three days before he was able to have some time alone with Timothea. They had always been close; in spite of the times she had been off with her parents as the Army sent her father, Barnabas Randolph, from one post to another. By mutual consent, they had declined an invitation to accompany John, Chloe and several of their friends to see Mary Pickford’s new moving picture. Instead, they decided to go for a drive. Timmie maintained a cheerful prattle about trivialities as Oliver drove his yellow Cadillac roadster north along the Hudson. It was a clear evening so he had the top down. He paid little attention to her chatter although the sound of her voice comforted him.
They didn’t even take the full week. Most of them have already scurried back to the Academy. Dorman is still in Baltimore trying to get his brother and sisters settled. He phoned to tell me he’s going back too and that he’s released us all from that vow we made in haste and anger. The Superintendent told him to take the summer to see to his parents’ affairs and make provisions for the children and just report back at the end of August. Jefferson Stuart Morgan is the only one who went through with the vow. He didn’t even wait for the rest of us and is already enlisted with the Canadians. Typical of Morgan, he just sat there while Cathcart and Hamilton made all the noise. He didn’t say much at all, just nodded when we made the vow. Dorman said he marched right back into Colonel Townley’s office and resigned one day after we dispersed for our week to “think about it”. How did Morgan convince the Superintendant so fast? Well, Stuart can be pretty forceful and logical; even in that slow Georgia drawl. So now, I’m the only one that’s left. I have thought about this. Grandfather is right though. I really don’t want to be an enlisted man. What I really want to do is go to England and join the Royal Flying Corps. I’ve been flying a year now. I’ll bet they’d welcome me with open arms since I have experience.
“Oliver, did you hear one word I just said?” Timothea broke into his thoughts.
“Sorry, Timmie. I’m trying to figure something out.”
“It isn’t very flattering of you to ignore me like that.”
“No, no it isn’t. I apologize. I promise to give you my full attention this evening.”
The city lights had fallen far behind them and he had found a spot overlooking the river which seemed right to him. He pulled into it, switched off the engine and lighted a cigarette.
“How long have you been doing that?” Timothea inquired as he took a slow drag on the cigarette.
“What, smoking? A couple of years. John got me started.”
“John! I thought he only smoked a pipe.”
“That’s just for effect when he’s being the polished Princeton man. When he’s just around the fellows, he smokes cigarettes.”
“May I try one?”
“Why not?” Oliver handed her one and watched in amusement as she held it somewhat gingerly in her tapering white fingers.
“Now what happens?” she waited expectantly.
“Now you put it in your mouth and draw on it, er suck on it like a straw, while I light it for you,” the match flared briefly and illuminated her face.
Timothea puffed obediently as the match caught the end of the paper. “Not bad,” she decided as she leaned back in the seat.
“I really shouldn’t permit this, you know. Nice young ladies aren’t supposed to smoke.”
“Rats,” replied Timothea inelegantly. “Nice young ladies can do anything they like as long as they are discreet and I assure you, Darling, I am always discreet.”
“I’ll bet you are. Timmie, I need to talk,” he half-turned and leaned against the door.
“Yes. I rather thought you did,” she did not move but somehow he felt that she had drawn nearer.
“I’m thinking about going to Europe.”
“Oh?”
“I mean this summer. I want to resign and go now.”
She frowned a little. “Don’t be silly, Oliver. You have to finish your last year and by that time you could be on your way to the Philippines.”
“Exactly. I could be sent there, Arizona, God knows where. There is a major war being fought right now. Am I the only person in New York who knows or cares?”
“Stop being melodramatic, Oliver. Of course you aren’t. But it isn’t OUR war and I don’t see why you’re so worked up about it.”
“But it is our war, Timmie. Didn’t the sinking of the Lusitania mean anything to you? There were women and children on board. Fitz.”
“What about him?”
“Don’t tell the others but he was on board her, too.”
“Fitz was on the Lusitania?” Timothea gasped.
“Yes, he’s alive though. So you see, Timmie, this does concern us. Our favorite uncle was on that ship. He could have died! Doesn’t that make it personal for you? Doesn’t it horrify you and make you angry?”
“Oliver, it was a dreadful thing. I’m sorry your classmate’s parents died. I’m sorry Uncle Fitz was in danger but he’s safe so I just don’t see why you want to give up everything.”
“Timothea, the Germans have acted barbarously. If the United States does aid England and France against such actions, we’ll never be able to hold our heads up again. If the President won’t see to it, I will. Even if I have to sit in a trench full of mud or dig latrines. I can’t sit on my complacent backside while others fight for the things we profess to believe.”
“Oliver, you might be killed! I might never see you again! I couldn’t bear that! I couldn’t!” she hid her face suddenly.
“Now who’s being melodramatic? Timmie. Timmie, are you...you are! You’re crying. Timothea, you never cry. Oh my Dear!” he pulled her around to face him; trying to stop the shining beads which rolled freely down her lovely face.
“Oliver, please!”
“You mustn’t cry, Timmie. I’m only thinking about it. I haven’t decided for certain,” Oliver pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
Timothea sat like a docile child except for something that glinted in her wide eyes that were the same color as his own. Sometimes with her, he felt as if he was looking in an odd sort of mirror which reflected an enchanting aspect of his own soul. His hand faltered as he looked deeper into her eyes and realization dawned on him even as triumph lit her up like a roman candle. Relentless, the truth of it struck him to his very core and his mouth came down hard on her soft, closed lips. He felt the joyful tremor run all through her slender body as her urgency met his. He had always thought that the phrase of “raining kisses upon her upturned face” silly in the extreme. Now he felt no shame in doing just that. His lips moved possessively over her lips, eyes, cheeks. He couldn’t get enough of her.
Panting with laughter, Timothea pushed him away and pulled the destructible dress over her head. “Chiffon rumples dreadfully,” she informed him as she dropped it lightly into the back seat of the car.
Her action was like a dash of ice water. He pulled away from her in dismay at what he had been intending to do. “Timmie!”
“Oh don’t be so Victorian. I love you. I love you,” clad only in her fine silk undergarments, she pressed against him.
Oliver was caught in a maelstrom of emotions and sensations and was no proof against her eagerness. Forgetting his good intentions entirely, he allowed her to draw him back into the ecstasy of her arms. He pulled the pins from her long dark hair and twined his hands in the lustrous mass. Timothea gasped as the steering wheel bit into her side. Impatiently, he shifted them to the other side of the car and she squealed when his long eyelashes tickled her neck. His mouth moved down the delicious column of her throat and across the soft curve of her shoulder. It was no trouble to slip the silk down her arms and he at last buried his lips between the twin mounds of her warm flesh. His mouth sought the soft tips of her breasts. She shivered slightly but laced her fingers in his hair as if determined to hold him to his purpose. Sighing, Timothea squirmed to find a more comfortable position on the Cadillac’s upholstered seat. As soon as she moved, Oliver came to with a wrench and pushed her so forcefully from him that she whacked her head on the door.
“Oliver!”
“I don’t know what possessed me. God, Timmie, I almost...” he sat up and resumed his place behind the steering wheel while he kept his eyes averted from the sight of moonlight shimmering on alabaster flesh.
“Oliver, I wanted to as much as you did.”
“Put your dress on, Timothea,” he tried to sound big brotherly and failed utterly.
“Honestly, Oliver. You can be so gentlemanly at times,” Timothea sat up.
“If you like, I’ll leave the car for a minute while you dress.”
“That won’t be necessary. I would have to be in love with a thick-headed soldier. If I had any sense, I’d develop a passion for a Yale man.”
Oliver felt the Cadillac bounce slightly and heard the faint whisper of chiffon. When he was fairly sure that she was no longer dangerously tempting, he looked at her. He tried to be stern but the moon beams slanting across her mink-brown hair nearly undid him. “Uhm, I’d better get us home.”
“As you wish, Galahad,” she sneered
They rode in silence for several miles. Then Timothea whacked his arm. “Why did you stop when it must have been obvious that I wanted you to make love to me?”
“God have mercy,” he begged under his breath. “My darling Girl, a gentleman doesn’t seduce young women. There are rules about such things.”
“You didn’t seduce me. I thought I seduced you. What do your precious rules have to say about that?”
“Timmie!”
“Oliver, I love you. I’ve always loved you. I want you so badly I ache. I want to feel your lips on my breast again. I want to take you inside me.”
“My God, Timothea!” he nearly smacked the car into a tree.
“Don’t be a prude. I’ve never slept with a man but that doesn’t mean I was raised with blinkers on. I know what happens. The girls at Vassar are explicit enough when they discuss their conquests. I want that to happen between us. Now. Tonight,” her words tempted him as did the long fingers which brushed across his cheek.
Clenching his teeth, Oliver jerked the steering wheel so that the car skipped onto a grassy space at the side of the road. He turned toward Timothea, put both hands firmly on her shoulders and kissed her very deliberately and very thoroughly. As she settled happily into his arms, he ran his tongue over her lips; prodding and coaxing until they parted. Then his tongue plunged deep into her mouth and Timothea gave a startled moan. Then, as his assault continued, she brought her own tongue into play; shyly at first but with growing confidence. When she slipped her tongue into his mouth, Oliver drew back entirely and brushed his hand over her hair.
“Never,” he directed a bit shakily. “Never waste that on a Yalie. In future, Miss Randolph, you will save all of these lovely charms for the Army.”
“The Army, Cadet MacKendrick?”
“This Army,” he said firmly and kissed her again.
When they could breathe, Oliver eased the big car back on the road and Timothea snuggled under his arm.
“Does this mean we’re engaged?” she inquired.
“Yes,” he took his right hand off the gear and pulled her even closer so that she was practically in his lap.
“Why, Oliver. This is so sudden,” she giggled.
“Soldiers are always in a hurry. You know that.”
“Now that we’re engaged, I want you to stop talking about this war nonsense. Let’s see, we’ll have a big wedding at the Academy Chapel next June.”
I’m still thinking of the RFC. She’s assuming a lot here. “Timmie.”
“I think that Mary Henderson will make a beautiful Maid of Honor and Chloe can be one of the bridesmaids. Do you suppose Elsa would let Aurora be our flower girl? She’s such a pretty child.”
“Timmie.”
“I want you to choose one of your classmates to be your best man. I know you and John are close but it will look better if your best man is in uniform, too.”
“Timothea.”
“I wonder where our first assignment will be.”
“Timothea, hush. We may not be getting married in the Chapel.”
“But new lieutenants always get married there. It’s as much a part of June Week as graduation.”
“I’m still thinking about going to Europe, Honey.”
She froze under his arm. Then she moved back to the passenger side of the car. “You cad!”
“Why, because I saw through your little game? Because I know what you were trying to do? Bribe me with yourself as the prize? Sorry, Timmie, I’d still have a bad conscience even with such sweet consolation as you would provide.”
“I’ve loved you all my life, Oliver. But sometimes I just don’t understand you at all. Honor, duty...those are such empty words. Intangibles. How can you even compare them with the warmth of my flesh and my willingness to spend my life with you? What are these worthless sentiments when measured against the security of graduation and a commission in our own Army? This ridiculous quest you’ve dreamed up for yourself is becoming quite tiresome and makes absolutely no sense. Very well, people are dying. People die every day in New York but I don’t see you running for Mayor to improve matters there. It’s a shame that Europe is going up in flames but what does it have to do with us? Frankly, I’ve never understood why the Army holds such allure for our family in the first place. All those frequent moves, watching my Mother try to create a home under constant hardships. The Philippines were the worst. It is a miserable way to live. I’ve always hated it. I was willing to put up with it since you’re so determined to follow in the family boot steps. As a MacKendrick with your class placement, I also figure that you’ll always get the plum assignments so that things won’t be as difficult for me as they were for Mother. Besides, you do look divine in your uniform.”
“Now look here, Timothea,” Oliver snarled.
“Oliver, I refuse to be a widow at nineteen. I will not marry you before you go on this silly crusade so don’t even ask. I won’t promise to wait for you either. You can marry me next June after graduation or you can forget the whole thing.”
Oliver’s fingers tightened on the wheel as a surge of impatient anger lashed through him. How dare she make me choose? What sort of weak-kneed ass does she take me for? “That’s not fair, Timmie.”
“Yes it is. You can have your stupid war or you can have me.”
“Now look here.”
“Which is it going to be? A wife who will love you next June or cold mud this summer?”
Oliver bit his lip; his blood still raced with the desire engendered by those deep kisses. It was her mockery that jarred him for it revealed a spiteful side to her nature he had never suspected. Timmie was as nice as cream until thwarted. Then, she dispensed with honey to trap her flies and merely slapped them down. It did not lessen his feeling for her to find his love a bit flawed by this evidence of selfishness. As his grandfather had decided before him, Oliver figured that this extra dash might be worth the misery. Unfortunately, he lacked his grandfather’s ability to charm and cajole a headstrong young woman into a workable compromise and even Timothy had lost more than one battle with his own willful Adria.
Oliver’s temper got out of hand and their discussion deteriorated into a severe screeching match in which neither would yield.
As they neared the house, Timothea threw out her final challenge. “Very well, Oliver. All I have left to say is this. If you resign from West Point to chase after this willow-o-the-wisp, I never want to see you again.”
Oliver looked at her long and hard. His sense of fair-play was insulted deeply by such childish tactics. If his cousin had threatened to hold her breath until she turned blue, he would not have been more disgusted. “Oh grow up, Timothea,” he barked.
“I mean it, Oliver. No matter how hard you plea, the minute you leave the Academy, you cease to exist.”
“Rats. You’ll get over it,” he declared with lofty masculine hauteur.
~~~
When they reached the house, Timothea ran up the stairs to her room. The slam of her door reverberated all the way down the stairs into the hall.
“Oliver?” Timothy called from the drawing room. “What’s going on?”
He paused with one foot on the stairs and then headed for the drawing room where Timothy was reading aloud to Adria and Elsa. “Timothea is an awful brat and I’m mad as hell at her,” he declared.
Timothy grinned. “All of our women folk tend to be a bit bratty at times. Except for Elsa, of course.”
Elsa wrinkled her nose at him while Adria sniffed.
“What happened, Son? Did you forbid her to see one of your classmates whom you deem unworthy of her?”
“What? No, it was nothing like that,” Oliver sat down on the sofa and glowered at the tips of his shoes. “I told her I was thinking of resigning and going to Europe. Then she got all dramatic and said if I did, she never wanted to see me again.”
“Resign? Oliver, you can’t even consider...” Adria started.
Timothy shook his head at her.
“But I am considering it, Grandmother. Didn’t Grandfather tell you why I was here this week?”
“Yes, he told me but I assumed you’d decided against it.”
“I haven’t decided one way or the other yet,” Oliver lifted a troubled face. “I’m still thinking about it. You told me to consider all the angles, Sir. I’m trying to do just that.”
“Yes, it’s all right, Son. You still have a few days. Are you ready to discuss this?”
“Not really. Right now, I’m too mad at Timmie to even think straight. She gave me an ultimatum, the little goose. ‘You can marry me after graduation during June week or you can forget the whole thing’. She’s forcing me to choose between her and my conscience.”
“Oliver!” gasped Adria and her shocked eyes flew to her husband.
Stunned, Timothy lost his grip on his book and it slid to the floor.
“Oh, she has it all planned. She even said I couldn’t have John as my best man because he won’t be in uniform. I may go to Europe just to spite her. Timmie is a bit too sure of her charms and it won’t hurt her to stew a bit. She can join me in London in a couple of months and we can be married there. That is, if I decide to go.”
Adria sat paralyzed in her chair.
Timothy leaned over to pick up his book. “Oliver, that is quite impossible.”
Oliver looked at Timothy in surprise. “Are you worried about her safety? There should be no danger as long as she sails on a neutral ship. She won’t have to be in London, either. She can stay at Philip’s country house or maybe with the Sinclairs or Cousin Eden’s father. Timmie would probably love staying with the Marquess and Lord Shenstone must miss his own daughters.”
“Oliver, I’m not concerned about the risk to Timothea. You can’t marry each other. Ever. The war has nothing to do with it.”
“She won’t hold the grudge, Grandfather. She’s mine. We belong together. Even when she’s spitting at me like a blasted cat, I love her so much.”
“Oliver, Darling,” Adria finally found her voice. “Please listen. It isn’t a question of love. Dearest boy, think. You and Timothea are cousins.”
He looked blank. “So were my parents. So are Aunt Dolly and Uncle Barney.”
Timothy shook his head. “They were only second cousins, Son. You and Timothea are double first cousins. Your Father was Dolly’s brother. Your Mother was Barnabas’ sister. Brother and sister married brother and sister. It’s happened before in our family. To make matters even more serious, your parents were second cousins themselves. Your great-grandmother Phoebe, my Mother, was a Randolph. Don’t you see? You and Timmie are just too close in blood. It would be as bad as marrying your sister.”
Oliver blanched chalk white. “I forgot. Would our children be...peculiar?”
“They might not all be idiots but it wouldn’t be fair to them,” Adria replied a bit tartly
“Oh, God, I have to tell Timmie!”
“Let me deal with that, Oliver,” Adria said gently.
“If you think that’s best,” Oliver whispered. He stood slowly. “I’m going upstairs. I need to be alone.”
Timothy went to him and pulled him close. “When you’re ready to talk, Son, just let me know.”
“Yes, of course,” Oliver moved like a sleepwalker to the stairs.
He reached his room and closed the door to seal out the rest of the world. Ass, how could I be such an ass as to forget the close blood tie that’s my family’s pride? Poor Timmie, this will break her heart. Well, no. Judging by tonight, it will just make her mad. I’m not sure that she has the kind of heart that will break over anything. I don’t love her any the less for it but it is a shock to realize that the girl I want is a bit of a tartar. But mine is broken. If I go back to West Point, it will be impossible. She’ll probably still come to the hops. Knowing Timmie, she’ll say to hell with them all and still expect to get married. She’s so set on getting her own way. She won’t consider the future. And I’m not strong enough. I’m not wise enough to be able to stand against her. I want to hold her, make love to her. She felt so good in my arms tonight, so right. Her mouth was so delicious and she responded to me as if I’d held her all my life. If I’m at West Point and she shows up for a hop, she’ll expect to go to Flirty and I won’t be able to withstand her desire or mine. I’m on fire for her. I’m not sure I can even wait for June to possess her; if we still had June. But, if I’m not here, maybe she’ll stay mad at me for not giving into her. Maybe she’ll forget about me and fall in love with someone else. That’s the important thing. I have to think of Timmie’s welfare now above everything else. It’s my fault. I should have seen it coming. I should never have exposed her to this situation. I’m older, I’m the man. It was my responsibility to protect her, shield her. I have to make it right for her. The only way is to remove myself from her life. There’s only one thing I can do now to square everything that’s wrong; only one thing that will fix my conscience and this thing with Timothea.
~~~
Troubled, Timothy woke a bit past dawn. He slipped from the bed, dressed and shaved and padded down to his library. He was not entirely surprised to see the white envelope that leaned against his desk set. Reluctantly, he read Oliver’s explanation. A soft swish of fabric drew his eye to the door. Elsa stood there in a blue silk dressing gown; tall, graceful, her lovely red-brown hair confined only by a ribbon so that it cascaded almost to her waist in soft waves.
She crossed to him and put her arms around him. “Oliver’s gone?”
“Yes, he left last night. He’s going to resign this morning. He says there’s a ship sailing to England later this afternoon. He’s going to try to catch her.”
“I thought he was going to Canada?”
“Most of his classmates went back to West Point, he says. Only one went to Canada and he’s already in training camp. It would be next to impossible for Oliver to catch up to him. Besides, he says he wants to fly anyway.”
“Well, he has been taking lessons,” Elsa sighed.
“Yes. Damn, I wish the young idiot had discussed this with me.”
“If he’s going to England, it should be simple enough to catch him. Fitz, Philip, or Jack can intercept him at the pier.”
“Then what? He’s already resigned, Elsa. It’s not like Fitz and Jack during the war with Spain. When I caught them in Baltimore, they were under age and hadn’t even entered West Point yet so it was easy to steer them away from a recruiter. Oliver is 21, he’s of age. He’s a very young man, to be sure, but still not a boy any longer. I remember when I was 20. I had to choose to follow my brother and kin into the gray or stay in the blue. That was not a boy’s decision either. Besides, Oliver has heard the bugle. It’s damned difficult to stop us when that happens.”
“Yes, I know. It was a shock to me when Fitzjames heard it out of a clear sky. One minute, I was planning a dinner party at Fort Riley. The next, he was sporting different rank and insignia and Aurora and I were dumped off with you and Mommy.”
Timothy reached up and caught the slender hand draped on his shoulder. “It’s difficult being a soldier’s woman.”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not when the soldier is Fitzjames. If Oliver is sailing today, do you think that Aurora and I could just sort of tag along?”
Timothy sighed. “I know you miss him, Honey, but right now you’d best stay put here.”
“Eden is in London with Jack,” Elsa said a bit rebelliously. “So is Maggie.”
“Well, Maggie runs the paper there so Philip can be at the Front. Besides, their men are there.”
“So is mine,” Elsa reminded him.
“Well, sort of.”
“What do you mean, ‘sort of’? Isn’t Fitzjames in London doing some kind of inspection tour?”
“Ummm...”
“I see. More secrets,” Elsa’s beautiful lower lip crept out. “Well, if YOUR son deigns to communicate with you in the near future, you can tell him that I’m miffed and NOT being a good little Army wife. I think it’s mean of him to go off on an adventure and make me stay behind. Especially since he hasn’t bothered to write me a single word! Mommy got a letter from Maggie today but did I get anything from that husband of mine? Noooo, I did not. It’s unpardonable of him not to write to me himself but just send me his love via Maggie. Did you read that in her letter? ‘Fitz says to tell Elsa that he misses her and Aurora very much and loves them both to distraction’. He must be distracted if he can’t scrawl a couple of lines for himself!”
Oh you cute little firebrand. I’m glad he did leave you here. I need you for my morale right now. Not to mention what it means to me to have Aurora under foot. Philip was right about that. She HAS become my favorite grandchild. She’s so much like Fitz; the same intelligence, the warmth, the spunk all wrapped up in that little girl-child. She’s even more adorable than her father was and I didn’t think that was possible. It’s amusing as all get out to watch her explore this crazy world. “Elsa, what am I going to do about Oliver?”
“I suppose the best thing is to help him achieve what he wants. Wire Philip. If anyone can figure out how to get Oliver in the RFC, he probably can. He knows so many people and can probably pull some strings.”
“I reckon,” Timothy rubbed his eyes. Probably makes more sense to contact Fitz so he can work some magic with his new pals at the British War Office. Guess the best route for that is Jack. He probably has a better idea of how to reach him than Philip. I suspect from the lack of direct contact, Fitz may already be in France mucking about with British Intelligence. Jack must have some contacts of his own though. After all, someone got him to Ireland to find Fitz. No, I guess I’d better go through Philip and Shenstone. I can’t run the risk of endangering Fitz by drawing attention to him. That may be why he didn’t write to Elsa himself.