The Storms of War by Kate Williams Read Free Book Online Page A

corridor to the side, into the two large rooms to the left, and up the stairs. She wanted to see and touch all the rooms before anybody else did. She hurried into every bedroom, sped back down the stairs, and pushed past her mother to run into the kitchen.
    ‘Have you found the library yet, Celia?’ said her father as she ran breathless to the top of the stairs. ‘Turn right, then left and it’s at the end of the corridor.’ She dashed off again, following his directions, and reached a heavy dark door. She turned the stiff key and pushed it open. Inside were more books than she had ever seen in her life. Red, brown, blue spines were everywhere, across the walls, in piles up to the ceiling, stacked on the desks. She could not credit that Lady Lenley might not have wanted some of them. She walked up to the shelves and touched the leather. She moved her hand over the desk in the corner, too in awe to seat herself in the chair. Her father had been right. Stoneythorpe was perfect. She threw out her arms and twirled in front of the leaded window, catching the last light of the sun.
    The party had been Rudolf’s idea. They had been living at Stoneythorpe for about two months, not successfully. The villagers shuffled past them without bowing or smiling, they were ignored at church, addressed peremptorily even by the vicar, unable to find servants without paying nearly one and a half times the given wage, distrusted. ‘They hate us because we’re German,’ sniffed Emmeline, often. ‘Why can’t we go back to London?’ Michael stayed in his room, reading, and Arthur shot birds in the garden,even when Rudolf told him not to. Verena began to cry in the mornings once more.
    ‘I have a solution,’ Rudolf had said. ‘Your mother and I will host a party for the village. Everyone will come.’ He meant Eversley as well as Bramshill and all the little clusters of houses in between. It would be a great celebration.
    For the next four weeks, the house was a flurry of activity and planning. The servants brought in furniture and the new cook, Mrs Rolls, was put to work on cakes and pastries. Verena fussed over the arrangements and table settings. The day began with cloud but then the sun broke out, everyone in the village arrived and the grounds filled with children. Even Arthur played ring o’ roses with the little ones.
    ‘We shall do this every year,’ said Rudolf, surveying the detritus of cakes and food on the tables, hands on hips, pleased with his plan. In the village, people bowed to them, and they were greeted by the vicar, who ushered them to the front pew in the church.
Lords and ladies.
    The jellies glistened green and pink in their glasses. Celia took a small bite, unconvinced by Verena’s plan of combining gooseberry and raspberry in the same glass. Rudolf ate noisily, clanking his cutlery on his glass. Verena was talking about the roof of the village church. Emmeline was stroking the top of her dessert with her spoon, not eating it. Celia looked up idly and gazed straight into Sir Hugh’s face. She started, for something seemed to change in his mouth; it twisted, opened.
    ‘You, sir.’ He turned his attention to Rudolf. ‘You support the Kaiser?’
    Rudolf looked up from scraping the last spots of jelly from the glass. He pondered. ‘Well, Sir Hugh, I do not give much thought to politics.’
    ‘In other words, you do. You support the most evil man in Europe. It’s something in the German character, if you ask me. I’ve never met a German who was not motivated by greed.’
    Michael was struggling to his feet again. Jonathan was pulling him down.
    ‘There are many good Germans,’ said Rudolf.
    ‘And a lot of power-hungry ones who will stop at nothing. We’ll be at war in a month. And we’ll watch the Germans die in shame.’
    Michael shook free of Jonathan’s grip and darted around the table. In a second, he was standing over Sir Hugh, grasping his clothes, Jonathan shouting at him to stop. Emmeline