Black Knights of the Hudson Book V: War Clouds in the East

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.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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!