“So how is Dietrichstein going to react?”
“I don’t know. But if Cardinal Mazzare gives them permission, there isn’t a lot he can do.” Vicky said it smugly. She was proud of her parish priest being a cardinal.
* * *
Sarah Wendell looked at the plane on the airfield outside Magdeburg. It was a Dauntless, one of the line of aircraft made by Kelly Aviation. The original Dauntless had gained famed or notoriety-take your pick-very recently, when it crashed after accidentally bombing Noelle Stull and Eddie Junkers. This was a replica, the first one Kelly had made. Bob Kelly’s wife Kay was here in Magdeburg lobbying the government to buy some for the Air Force.
At the moment, though, she was still lobbying-and the aircraft was still available. Kay was renting it out on a daily basis for anyone who could afford the steep price.
“Are you sure about this?” Karl asked dubiously. “I’ve never seen one up close before. It’s much smaller than they seem up in the sky.”
Sarah shook her head. “I’m not worried about the plane. Bob Kelly may be the world’s worst businessman, but he knows how to build airplanes. The real issue is the pilot.”
Karl now studied the fellow in question, who was standing next to the plane and chatting with someone Karl took to be the mechanic.
“What’s wrong with him? He doesn’t know how to operate the plane?”
“No, Lannie Yost is actually a good pilot. The problem is that he’s also a drunk.” She headed toward the plane. “Luckily, I have a good nose.”
As it turned out, there was alcohol on Yost’s breath. But the smell was faint-Sarah gauged it as one beer. Certainly not more than two. Given Lannie’s capacity, he should be fine.
Not to her surprise, Karl didn’t say anything about the smell. Sarah had already learned that people born and raised in the seventeenth century were more lackadaisical about drinking than up-timers were. Given that water was unreliable when it came to carrying diseases, that was probably understandable even if she didn’t really approve.
She looked over at Karl. “What do you think?”
“I still prefer comfort.” He smiled at her. “But if you’ll hold my hand, I’ll go up in it.”
* * *
Holding hands proved to be easier said than done, because of the cockpit’s design. There were seats up front for the pilot and someone else-a copilot, theoretically-but only room for one person in the small seat in the back.
At Sarah’s insistence, Karl took the front seat. She’d flown before; he hadn’t. Her hope was that he’d enjoy the flight, once he got over his apprehension. That was the reason she’d made the suggestion in the first place. Since it seemed clear they would be seeing each other for quite some time and he had lands scattered all over central Europe, Sarah figured that aviation would be a handy thing to encourage.
When they got up in the air, Karl turned around to look back at her. “You promised to hold my hand!” he said, shouting to be heard over the noise of the engine.
Sarah rolled her eyes, but gave him her left hand. It was a sunny day and unseasonably warm, so she didn’t object when he took her glove off. Then she felt the cold metal of the ring as he slipped it onto her finger. She turned to look, and he shouted: “Will you marry me?”
Lannie looked at them and grinned. Sarah didn’t let go of Karl’s hand but she didn’t answer right away. She wanted to think about it-and the noise of the engine gave her an excuse to wait until they landed. Besides, she figured after pulling a stunt like this, he should just damn well wait anyway.
The decision took less time than she would have thought. Once the plane was on the ground, she didn’t wait for the engine to be turned off.
“Yes!” she shouted.
* * *
“What about the religious issues?” Fletcher Wendell asked.
“Karl is talking with Cardinal Mazzare,” Sarah said. “There’s not going to be that much of an issue, anyway. He’s Prince Karl von Liechtenstein and I’m plain old Sarah Wendell, so it’s going to be a morganatic marriage. Which is okay. I have enough money so that it’s not going to be a problem for our kids. And, as far as I’m concerned his cousin Hartmann can have it. Or Hartmann’s kids can. I figure we’ll likely outlive Hartmann, unless medical care in Austria-Hungary gets a lot better.” While much of the USE had taken to up-time medical practice with a will, that response was hardly universal throughout Europe. “Anyway, we’ve agreed that we will let the kids choose their religion for themselves once they grow up. Karl has his own confessor, of course, but Father George has a pretty reasonable atitude. He’s been on the wrong end of religious persecution in England, so after a few talks with Cardenal Mazzare, he has developed a great deal of respect for freedom of conscience.”
“Is Karl all right with a morganatic marriage?” asked Judy the Elder.
“He says he is,” Sarah said. “And I think it’s mostly true.”
“Mostly true?”
“Well, he grew up Prince Karl, heir to the Liechtenstein family holdings, so he’s a bit ambivalent about not passing that on to his children. On the other hand, he knows that between us we can set up trusts that will make sure that the kids have a good start. And in the new world we’re building here in the USE, that should be enough.”
* * *
The Liechtenstein Improvement Corporation got the news over the telegraph in the private code that Karl had had generated by a computer program in Grantville back in 1633. It was two copies of a notebook, one of which Karl kept, and the other for the board. The reasons for the encoding were two fold. One was the tabloids. The National Inquisitor was already printing speculation about when Karl was going to ask Sarah to marry him and what she was going to say. He wanted to inform his family and Emperor Ferdinand III before they read about it in the papers.
But there was a more important reason for codes. Karl was, for the most part, if not sanguine about his marriage to Sarah being morganatic, and least resigned to it. However, he didn’t want that to mean that his children’s entire inheritance would be from Sarah. Nor did he want Sarah to have to live on her income. Sarah wasn’t poor by any reasonable standard. But Karl Eusebius von Liechtenstein was not raised to a reasonable standard of wealth. Instead, he was raised to a royal standard of wealth and by that standard, Sarah Wendell was barely getting by. By Karl’s standards, a person of reasonable wealth could raise and fund their own army at need. And it was his intent that once they were married, his wife and children should be able to do that if the need arose.
Karl was going to use the LIC to move some funds from the family accounts to private businesses and partnerships that could go first to his wife as her dower, and through her to their children when they came along. And he didn’t want his uncles to know about it. For that matter, he wasn’t totally convinced that he wanted Sarah to know about it. Judy the Younger Wendell, on the other hand, would do fine administering the fund till it was needed. The LIC had as members Dave Marcantonio and Father George, but also Judy the Younger, Susan Logsden and Millicent Anne Barnes, members of the Barbie Consortium.
“Did you know he was going to ask this trip?” Millicent asked Judy accusingly.
“Naw. I figured he’d chicken out again. He’s been carrying that ring around since he got back from Prague. It’s Morris Roth’s work and the rock’s big enough that Sarah’s going to have trouble holding up her hand. And her left arm’s going to end up a couple of inches longer than her right.”
Susan snorted. “How much did the Roths charge him?”
“I don’t know. Silesia, maybe,” Judy said. Which was, Dave thought, utterly ridiculous.
“Ladies, if we could get to the financial part of the message,” Dave said. “I’m a bit concerned about Prince Karl using the LIC for this.”