Beneath the Dover Sky Read Free

it? A mystery man?”
    “Well, as I was telling your wife, I accompanied a friend here by the name of Albrecht Hartmann. He is a professor at Tubingen…a theologian.”
    “Is he? Wonderful, wonderful! Has he written anything I may have read?”
    “He has written several books that have been well received. Alas, only one of them has been translated into English—and American English at that.”
    “I can tolerate American English. We now have a Yank in the family, you know. Married my daughter Libby. Do you remember little ginger-haired Libby? The pair are in the United States right now, though we hope to see them back here this fall or winter.”
    “Splendid. If you wish I can give you a copy of the book and you might be able to read some of the chapters before Albrecht arrives.”
    Lord Preston stood up. “He is coming to Dover Sky?”
    Lady Preston put her arm through his. “I assured Gerard we had plenty of room.”
    “Plenty of room? I should say we have since our children and their spouses have abandoned us…but for Catherine.” Lord Preston glanced about. “Have you seen her yet, Gerard? She was so young in 1911.”
    “He’s only just arrived, William,” said Lady Preston. “Catherine’s off on a walk with Sean. She can meet Gerard at the evening meal.”
    “Why, I saw her from the plane. She was close by.”
    “I expect she was, but she’s probably drifted since then. You know her moods.”
    “Yes, of course.”
    The baron’s face behind his moustache grew somber, his eyes darkening. “My condolences once again. Her husband’s death was a shock. Civil wars are always the worst for shedding blood.”
    Lady Elizabeth put a hand on his arm. “The flowers you sent were beautiful, Gerard. Quite the largest arrangement we received. Even the king noticed them.”
    “A small thing. One always wishes one could do more.”
    “Catherine will be glad to see you. I have no doubt of it. But she is a bit lost these days. She left Belfast to live at Ashton Park, but she doesn’t seem content with us there either. Perhaps it’s too lively for her with so many of her siblings having houses nearby. We are hoping a peaceful summer at Dover Sky will help.”
    “I pray so.” The baron stared at the apple trees at the side of the manor. “You never stop worrying about your children. No, never. So much can happen in a lifetime.”
    “I know, Gerard.” She gently squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry for what you’ve been through.”

    “Now, mind you attend, young Master Skitt. Next summer you’ll be handling matters on your own.”
    Skitt looked at the map Fairburn was sketching. “I thought the estate here was just the land on the hill.”
    “A common misconception.” The stocky man with a ginger-colored beard, moustache, and sideburns continued to draw, the pencil clutched in his red, stubby fingers. “Of course it’s nothing like Ashton Park, but we have a hundred acres running east, west, north, and south. The swans are here—you must pay attention, Master Skitt. There have been poachers, and the police’ll not mind if you nab ’em.”
    Skitt was glancing all about him as the two men sat on a boulder near a narrow stream. “I’ve not been here before, Mister Fairburn.”
    “We’ll have a long walk today and get you acquainted with the lie of the land. But you must memorize this map. See—” Fairburn made several sharp strokes with a piece of charcoal he yanked from the pocket of his tweed coat. “I’ve been working on a dry stone fence for years to mark off our boundaries. The Gillans are to the south—good people, salt of the earth. To the east is the main road into Dover. Those fences are done. Of course I’m connecting ’em all together so Dover Sky’s in an enclosure, like. So those two have met up. And the east fence is linked with the north fence and the McPhails—rogues, that lot, every last one of them. I’ve toyed with pointing cannon in their direction, I tell ye. I