James Benn - The Rest Is Silence

“Sorry to keep you all waiting,” Sir Rupert said. “I only got back from London an hour ago. More Foreign Office business.”

“You are with the Foreign Office, Sir Rupert?” Kaz asked.

“They bring me in now and then,” he said, accepting his whiskey and soda from Edgar with the kind of nod you might give a decent bartender. “After two decades in India, I do have some knowledge of the area, Burma and China included. I have retired from the Indian Civil Service, but it is rewarding to continue to be useful.”

“Edgar was telling me he’s back from India as well,” I said.

“Yes, he is,” Sir Rupert said, turning away and addressing the ladies. It was time for dinner-not to mention a new topic of conversation.

Distracted somewhat by the mussels in white-wine sauce, I watched my fellow diners. I had been expecting decent enough food by wartime standards, but it was clear rationing hadn’t put a dent in the Ashcroft kitchens.

“Not bad, eh?” Sir Rupert said as he tucked into his own bowl. “We have a fellow on the staff who used to fish for a living. Gave it up to manage the grounds here when the war began. He still keeps a small boat. Brings in a good catch when it’s safe to go out into the Channel.”

“Safe from Germans?” I asked.

“No, safe from the weather and the American navy, Captain!” Sir Rupert said with a grin. “Crawford’s boat’s only little, no match for gale-force winds or those big wallowing landing craft. But if it’s a calm day and he can avoid the larger vessels, he’ll go out just beyond the mouth of the River Dart. Dartmouth, if you understand. We all benefit, so I don’t begrudge him the time.”

“We spoke to some fishermen in Kingsbridge today,” I said. “It seems as if the war has taken its toll on them.”

“Along the Channel coast, certainly,” Sir Rupert said. “Crawford says the fish are plentiful, so perhaps it will be better than ever once the war is over.”

As the first course was cleared, I leaned back and surveyed the table. Sir Rupert at the head, of course. I was on his left and Kaz across from me. Meredith and Edgar sat next to Kaz, while to my left were Helen and then David. Great Aunt Sylvia faced Sir Rupert at the other end of the table. The arrangement allowed David’s ruined face to be hidden from his wife, who spent most of her time talking across the table to her sister.

Edgar offered to pour more wine for Great Aunt Sylvia, but his was the only empty glass. David looked uncomfortable, and I wondered whether Helen had made the seating arrangements. The conversation was animated, but I noticed that Meredith and her father had not exchanged a single word, or even looked at each other. I caught Kaz’s eye, and he gave the tiniest of shrugs, telling me he sensed the strangeness as well.

Lamb cutlets were served, and my surveillance was interrupted.

“Baron Kazimierz,” Great Aunt Sylvia said, raising her voice to be heard. “I hope you are not disappointed in the state of the household. We live a simple life in Devon, much simpler than that in many smaller country homes. No footmen, no useless frills. I hope you do not disapprove.”

“On the contrary, Lady Pemberton. I would not trade these fresh peas for a dozen footmen,” Kaz said. I hadn’t thought about it, since at the Boyle kitchen table it was strictly pass the potatoes and every man for himself, but there was only one young girl bringing out the plates. Williams, the butler, was nowhere to be seen.

“The early peas were picked from the greenhouse just today,” Helen said. “Crawford again. Where would we be without him?”

“Are footmen hard to come by these days?” I asked.

“I would think so,” Sir Rupert said. “But it’s never been our style. Even though the family has had its share of earls and lords, we’ve always worked for a living. The upper classes tend to forget that they got where they are today by dint of some distant ancestor who fought and clawed his way to the top of the heap.”

“My grandfather helped to build the mill on Bow Creek,” Great Aunt Sylvia said. “Not simply with funds; he helped to construct it. The Pembertons were never afraid of hard work, believe me.”

“The Sutcliffes agree,” Sir Rupert said, nodding to Great Aunt Sylvia. “Ashcroft will continue in that tradition.” The table quieted as a long-standing family dispute seemed to shimmer in the air between them, seeking to take form. I could imagine the ghosts of Pembertons past at Great Aunt Sylvia’s shoulders.

“You were knighted yourself, Sir Rupert?” Kaz inquired, moving the conversation to safer ground.

“Father is a Knight Commander of the Most Exalted Order of the Star of India,” Helen said, with evident pride.

“It’s what one gets for twenty years’ service to the Crown,” Sir Rupert said with a self-satisfied smile. At the other end of the table, Edgar set down his glass so loudly that Great Aunt Sylvia nearly jumped out of her chair.

Edgar’s father-in-law had spent twenty years in India, had been knighted for his services, and was called to consult with the Foreign Office. Edgar had come home after only two years, and couldn’t find a position anywhere. Was that the cause of the chill between Meredith and her father? Had he declined to help Edgar for some reason?

“Piotr, I hope you and Billy can remain with us for a few days,” David said, the first words he’d spoken at the table.

“Yes, by all means,” Sir Rupert said. “Have you concluded your business in Devon?”

“No, we haven’t,” I said, weighing the prospect of dinner the next few nights at Ashcroft against taking our chances at a pub or inn. “We’re going to the South Hams tomorrow, the restricted area, quite early in fact. After that we’ll wrap up our investigation in a day or so, I hope.”

“Good hunting,” Sir Rupert said, quite the jovial host. “You should both feel free to come and go as you please. Glad to have you.”

“If you are sure it is no trouble?” Kaz said.

“You will find Sir Rupert is not given to idle platitudes when it comes to invitations to remain under his roof,” Great Aunt Sylvia said. It was hard to tell whether that was a compliment or something else entirely. “Of course you must stay, so you and David can catch up properly. It’s not every day we entertain the nephew of General Eisenhower, after all.”

“Really?” Sir Rupert said, an eyebrow raised in my direction. I guess I didn’t look like I could be related to the Supreme Commander.

“Yes,” I said. I filled him in but kept it short. What I didn’t tell any of them was that my folks had cooked up the idea of me working for Uncle Ike well before he became a big deal. You see, to my dad and Uncle Frank-he’s a real uncle-the British Empire is pretty much the enemy, since we’re all loyal Irishmen, and the Brits had kept their heel hard on Ireland for far too long. Both had served in the last war, and they lost their older brother in the trenches of France, so they didn’t take kindly to the idea of another Boyle lost in a war to keep the English in control of half the world. I had no problem with that.

It was my mother who came up with the idea of getting in touch with Uncle Ike. He was from her side of the family, and at that time was working at the War Plans Department in DC. A perfect place to sit out the shooting war. Favors were called in, and soon I found myself a second lieutenant ready to join the staff of General Dwight David Eisenhower, duties unspecified. What we didn’t count on was Uncle Ike rocketing to the top and taking me along for the ride.

What a ride it had been. From England in the early days to North Africa, Sicily, Northern Ireland, and Italy, then back to England. I was a captain now, and I saw things entirely differently than when I first arrived. I kind of missed the old me. He was much more certain-on the basis of knowing a whole lot less. I envied him.