Page 12 of A Zephyr Rising
“Are you becoming political?”Her father’s stern expression burned with disapproval.
“I hardly call it political to be concerned about the injustice I see.”Ginger shifted in her evening gown, feeling the heat of her father’s stare.
Henry chuckled.“Perhaps you should look through Father’s dictionary to learn the meaning of the word.”He sat straighter against the back of his dining room chair.“I’m astonished to hear you won’t readily admit it.”
Ginger set her lips into a firm line.Her brother’s insistence on playing the neutral party to disagreements was beyond irritating.Especially when she could use an ally.A quick glance at the servants in the room checked her desire to call him on it.She’d tell him of her disappointment later when they were in private.
As though she sensed Ginger’s feeling of isolation, her mother tilted her chin.Her diamond earrings sparkled as she turned toward her husband.“Darling, you should have seen poor Mrs.Martin.The woman is as distraught as Ginger suggested.And with good reason.Look what happened to the Martin boy today.”
Her father didn’t appear swayed.“A terrible situation.But the Martins are hardly the only ones dealing with this, Elizabeth.We can’t very well go fighting for the release of every incarcerated German national in England—it would defeat the entire purpose of the law.And if we make too much noise about this, someone could paint us as being too interested in the plight of the Germans.And where would that put us?”
Was this why everyone seemed so reluctant to help?“I understand, but surely officials will see the special circumstances of the Martins.You know Mr.Martin?—”
“But do I?”Her father set his spoon on his plate.“How can I reasonably vouch he’s not a spy?I don’t know him well.Not well enough to know what sort of activities he’s involved in.”
Much as Ginger hated to admit it, her father had a point.She bit her tongue.Her gut instincts told her Mr.Martin was harmless, but it wasn’t as if her father could use Ginger’s feelings as the basis to arrange the Mr.Martin’s release.
Her mother tugged at the top of her long white gloves.“Your worries do you credit, my dear.We are at war, after all.”Her green eyes met Ginger’s.“But Ginger makes a valid point, as well.Your patronage should count for something with the Home Secretary.And even if the elder Mr.Martin has less of a case, I don’t think it would be unreasonable to see what we can do for young John.Particularly if he agrees to volunteer for service.What better way to prove he’s a true Englishman at heart?”
“Hear, hear.Obviously, Ginny’s gained her political prowess from you, dearest Mother.”Henry lifted his glass in a laughing toast toward his mother.He winked at Ginger.“Now I have rather a favor to ask of you.Will you please finish your dessert so we can all move into the drawing room?I’ve got to catch a train in the morning to join some fellows on a hunt in a few days.I’d like to turn in early.”
“Far be it from me to keep you from your brandy.I like to eat with proper manners.”Ginger allowed her features to relax into a wry grin.She couldn’t begrudge Henry’s attempts to lighten the mood.She’d been carrying on about the Martins as boorishly as Lucy had about the move to Cairo all day.
Lucy laughed and swished her long dark hair, which her maid had curled for dinner.“And you think you could be a social reformer?You’re a member of the oppressive class who likes their hours-long, drawn-out dinners.Or in your case, half a day.There’s never been anyone who eats more slowly.”
Across the round table, her mother beamed at the three of them.“I’m glad to have a little sense of normalcy before we leave Penmore.I’ll miss these times soon.”
Lucy appeared stricken at the reminder.
“Leave it to you, dear Mama, to end the dinner on a somber note.”Henry folded his serviette.
As they retired from the dining room, the truth of her mother’s words filled Ginger with a sense of regret.Even if nothing changed in the coming war—which seemed an impossibility—her family expected her to marry soon.She reached out and ran her fingertips over the trim in the hallway, the spaces she’d occupied without always appreciating their beauty.Would Penmore ever be her home again?
She’d almost reached the next room when a warm draft of air raised the hair on the back of her neck.Mr.Pierce stood at the front door.The butler wore a grim expression.Beyond him waited Charlie Martin.
Henry, who followed behind her, turned to see what she stared at.“What is it?”His gaze shot back to Ginger’s.
“I don’t know.”Her eyes darted toward the drawing room where the rest of her family had entered.Charlie couldn’t be here to bring good news.She set a gloved hand on Henry’s forearm.“I’m going to go check.”
Henry nodded.“I’ll come with you.”
Henry reached the door first.“I’ll take the lad from here, Pierce.”
Ginger set her hands on Charlie’s shoulders.The boy heaved for breath.“What is it?Did you run here?”
Charlie nodded, a bead of sweat trickling down his red face.“Mum sent me here because I’m the fastest.It’s that—someone threw a brick through the window.And there was a note.”The boy’s hands trembled as he handed it to Ginger.
Ginger uncrumpled the dirty sheet of paper, which was damp with sweat.The scrawled handwriting appeared hastily written, large looping letters warning of a coming attack.A tight feeling encircled her heart.Oh, no.She slipped the paper quietly to Henry, trying to remain calm.“Do you know who threw the brick?”
Charlie shook his head.“No, but Mum thinks Mr.Winser is behind it.”
“The pig farmer?”Henry asked.
“Mum thinks he’s angry with what Lady Virginia said.”
Had she done something wrong?Ginger swallowed her astonishment as Henry shot her a quizzical look.“Pierce—” Henry called out.
Mr.Pierce came from around the corner.
