Ashton Park by Murray Pura

rebellion? Rubbish.” He dug into the pocket of his bridge coat, a pea coat that fell to his thighs. Danforth wore the same type of coat against rough weather. McGrail brought out a cigarette and lighter. “Would you care for a smoke, sir?”
    “Not tonight.”
    “Do you mind if I—?”
    “Go ahead. Maybe it will warm us both up.” Even though he wore gloves he rubbed his hands together. “It’s almost June and the North Sea is still an icebox. Join the army, Edward, and you can serve with your brother Robbie. Join the Royal Flying Corps and you can pilot a plane with your brother Kipp. I should have listened to mother.”
    McGrail blew out a stream of white smoke. “I dunno. There’s no way out of a burning plane. And no way out of a shell hole if the Hun have dropped one right on your head. We’ve got a better chance.”
    “If you can swim. If you get picked up before you freeze to death. If you’re not below decks and go down with the ship.”
    McGrail smoked a moment. “Do you think the German’s High Seas Fleet is out of port now too, Commander?”
    “I should think so.”
    “You reckon they know about us being out of our Scottish dock?”
    “We’ve been at sea, what now, an hour and a half? I’m sure their U-boats have reported in.”
    “I expect they can recognize us.”
    “Their crews have memorized our ships’ silhouettes just like we have theirs. So many smokestacks. So many guns. Thus and thus high is the superstructure.”
    “Zere goes ze Queen Mary, Hans.” McGrail imitated a German accent. “Yah, for sure zat’s her, Fritzie. Quick, run und tell ze Kaiser.” He flicked the butt of his cigarette into the sea. It glowed orange a moment and was gone. “Do you think the Kaiser has a battle cruiser named after his wife?”
    Edward Danforth smiled in the cold dark. “I have no idea if any woman would have the Kaiser. Wife or otherwise.”
    “I heard he was Queen Victoria’s grandson.”
    “True. But all resemblance to England ends there, McGrail. Those are his ships we’re heading out to fight.”
    McGrail looked over his shoulder at the long barrels of one of the gun turrets looming in the blackness. “The thirteen-point-five inchers will take care of that business.”
    “I hope so, McGrail. I surely hope so.”

    “What on earth is she running around for?” grumbled Sir Arthur.
    Aunt Holly glanced at him. “What on earth is who running around for?”
    “My daughter.”
    “It’s a wedding, Arthur. Her child’s wedding. Your granddaughter. Heaven knows Elizabeth has had enough to fret about over the past few months. Let her enjoy herself.”
    “Enjoy herself?” Sir Arthur stamped the butt of his cane on the stone floor of the chapel where he was seated. “She has a thousand maids to do her running for her.”
    “Oh, don’t be so medieval. The maids and footmen are doing their part. Elizabeth is simply bursting with good-natured energy. Don’t you remember what that’s like?”
    “I have no idea why.”
    Aunt Holly slapped him on the leg. “I feel like pinching you. So you’ll wake up. She has two of her sons home on leave for the wedding. The second attempt at the wedding, I might add. Sir William is due here from Lime Street Station in an hour. Do you understand now why she’s bursting?”
    “Which sons?”
    “Well, if Edward is still at port in Scotland that only leaves two, doesn’t it? Kipp and Robbie. You’ve dined with them the last three nights, for heaven’s sakes.”
    Sir Arthur scowled as a footman dropped an armful of tall candles. “How is it that one of those boys has black hair and the other is blond?”
    “The black hair comes from my side of the family. Any red or auburn from Elizabeth and your relatives. Any blond is from you yourself, you old fool. They say you had hair like sunlight when you were young.”
    “I did not.”
    “You did. There are photographs. Dozens of them. Shall I fetch them from the library?”
    Sir Arthur frowned at a