Blitzed

The Chambers family country estate, Stedham Hall, near Salisbury, had been a gothic-style pile-of-rocks abbey until Cromwell had seized it from the church and rendered its attached chapel in ruins. The chapel was still in ruins, which added a bit of charm to the otherwise austere façade of the many-roomed rambling building with enough guest bedrooms to accommodate a crowd.

When Phillip, Chloe, and Neal had arrived at the massive wooden entrance door they were greeted by a solemn-faced, nonspeaking butler, backed up shortly by the host, Sir Neville Chambers himself, who smiled at Phillip and Chloe and leered at Neal.

“This is Otto, our city butler, brought down this weekend to lend a hand. He doesn’t speak, but we’d be lost without him. Quite efficient really.”

And that was Neal’s introduction to the butler, large and glowering—and not speaking. Otto made a quick withdrawal as the hostess, Neville’s wife, Irma, a tall, statuesque, rather severe-looking woman, came to the entrance hall.

Chambers did the breezy introductions. “Irma, I think you know Phillip Talbot of the Foreign Office, and this is his young wife—Chloe, is it?—who we are just now hearing about. Our weekend is for her as well as you, as she too is leaving us, but only as far as Amesbury.” Turning to Phillip and Chloe then, he said. “Irma’s going across the sea, to Canada. She’s off to Southampton Monday to wait for formation of a convoy. Going on the Estonia. The German subs being what they’ve become as a danger to ocean shipping, a convoy will have to form to cross the Atlantic.”