Ashton Park (19 page)

“Um.” Libby thought a moment. “Sopwiths. Yes. Sopwith Camels.”

“Yeah? We just got our SPADs. Good kites. Had mine a week before it got shot to pieces.”

“Why don’t you tell me about that?”

“Aw, you don’t care. They just sent you in here to get me eating and drinking and making merry. Am I right?”

“They want you to get better.”

“Sure they do. Can’t have the heir to the crown jewels go bottoms up in France at twenty-four, can we?”

“I’m sorry about your brother.”

“What? You didn’t even know my brother. How can you be sorry?”

“Because I hate suffering and death, Captain. I hate war. And I’m sorry it took him.”

“Yes. You’re sorry it took the rich man’s son.”

“I’m sorry it took a mother’s and a father’s son.” Libby put her hands on her hips. “Tell me, Captain Woodhaven. What do you see when you look at my eyes?”

“I see the pretty little Brit they stuck in my room to shake me up and make me feel like living and loving again.”

“Then you’re not looking hard enough, Yank. I don’t care who you are. I don’t care if you think I’m pretty or as ugly as a coal scuttle. I just care that you’re wounded, you’ve lost family, and it’s my job to help you get back on your feet again. I’d do it for anyone, rich or poor, tall or short, fat or skinny. Can you read my eyes now?”

“It’s just your style, Pretty Patty. I’ve seen it all. Some come at me playing the shy barmaid. Others are down on their luck and need a shoulder to cry on. Then there are those who act like the Queen of England. Go practice your moves on some other poor sap.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I read about it. They get the prostitutes and jailbirds and the dirt poor from East London and ship them over here as nurses. The upper-class gals would never soil their precious little hands.”

Libby’s eyes widened and her mouth opened but she did not speak. Woodhaven lifted his head as far as he could off the pillow, glaring at her.

“What do you think, Patty? That I’m going to fall in love with you because you’ve got blue eyes? Because you’re a strawberry blond with a flashy smile? An easy way to become an heiress overnight, huh? Go from the brothel to the rich man’s mansion in the wink of one of your bright eyes. Well, not this flyboy. Go practice your charms on some simpleminded doughboy or Tommy. Or take a fast boat back to the alleys of London.”

Lady Elizabeth had always warned Libby about her temper. Libby had fought to control it all her life and had reached a point where she felt she had it well in hand. But Woodhaven’s stream of insults put a quick and sudden end to her self-control. While one part of her mind screamed it would be an end to her nursing in France and everywhere else, another part screamed equally as loudly that Michael Woodhaven was a scoundrel and a blackguard, and the death of his brother did not excuse his language or his behavior. Libby seized a glass on the table by his bed and dashed the water in Woodhaven’s eyes. While he spluttered, she took his plate of beans and corned beef and mushy peas and smacked it into his face as if it were a pie. He stared at her in disbelief, his face a mess of brown beans and green peas and red beef dripping with water.

“You’re finished!” he exploded.

Libby could feel the blood in her face that made her skin feel as if she were standing in a bonfire. “I’m not. You’re a disgrace to your nation and your uniform. And your family name. If I ever set eyes on you again it will be the second-worst day in my life. This was the first. You’re a cad. A brute. I have no doubt in my mind but that your brother was a far better man than you.”

She stormed from the room, flinging open the door. To her surprise, Mrs. Turnbull and two doctors fell back from the doorway, where they had been crouched listening.

Libby’s eyes were fierce blue flames. “I am done, Mrs. Turnbull. If you wish my resignation, you have it. I shall return to England at once.”

Mrs. Turnbull was smiling. “Why, child, you’re the only person who has ever stood up to him. It’s precisely what was wanted. Doctors Bradshaw and Kincaid and I think you’re off to a splendid start.”

“That, Mrs. Turnbull, was a grand finale. He will never want me as his nurse again. For which I thank God. All the oceans in the world could lie between us and it still wouldn’t put enough distance between Captain Woodhaven and me. I utterly despise the man.”

“Ma’am?”

“Yes, Norah. What is it?”

Norah Cole stepped into Lady Elizabeth’s bedroom at Dover Sky. She held a dozen envelopes in her hand. “I don’t wish to disturb you. But I found these letters addressed to Mister Harrison. As he’s never at Dover Sky I’m at a loss as to how they came to be here or what I’m to do with them.”

Lady Elizabeth had been sitting at her vanity. Placing down her hairbrush she extended her hand. “That is odd. Let me see them.” She sorted through the envelopes. “Postmarked last year. And this year. How very strange that they are lying around in this house. Where did you say you found them?”

“On a chair in the servant’s quarters, ma’am. By Miss Squire’s room.”

“I see. Well, thank you very much, I’m sure, Norah. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Do you need anything, ma’am?”

“Not at all. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, ma’am.”

Norah left, shutting the door. At first, Lady Elizabeth put the stack of letters on the vanity, having no intention of opening them. But she realized they had been written by her son, so she couldn’t resist picking up one of the envelopes for a peek. After all, he never wrote her as often as he wrote Harrison. What on earth was it the two men had to talk about? She drew Edward’s letter out of the envelope in her hand. It was postmarked May thirty-first, 1918.

Summer 1918

Catherine tipped the man who had brought up her new furniture two shillings and closed the door firmly behind him. She looked around the flat. It was small and simply furnished and suited her perfectly. Perhaps there was a touch of the monastic in her—not a very desirable trait for a Protestant. But now that she was far away from Albert and her family perhaps she didn’t have to be Church of England anymore.

She crossed to a window that looked out over a convent. She was in the Catholic section of Belfast by her own choice. Albert would be looking for her and he would not think—or dare—to come to this neighborhood. As she watched, several nuns stepped out of the large brick building and walked around a grass quadrangle enclosed by three high walls and the convent itself. One of them held a large umbrella over herself and the others to protect them from the summer rain. The four nuns were laughing as they walked.

Gray pigeons flew up from the convent roof and fluttered down to land at Catherine’s windowsill. It happened so quickly it startled her. She peered at them through the glass. Whether they saw her or not, they weren’t concerned, settling in, cooing and folding their wings. She had not smiled in many weeks but now she felt one cross her lips.

So have you come to invite me to Mass? Well, that’s not a bad idea. That’s another place Albert would never look for me. Though God might.

Victoria flung out her arms and danced about her room at Dover Sky. What a summer it had turned out to be—
Ben had written her!

It had been five weeks since Kipp had promised to encourage him to drop her a note. Five long weeks. But now Victoria understood what the expression lighter than air meant.

I feel like I could fly as high as one of your aeroplanes, Ben Whitecross. I am most definitely up there among the starlings and the swallows.

Perhaps he had said too much too quickly. Perhaps he had promised more than he should have and made too many vows. But it made her feel like taking the path down the cliff to the shingle beach and flinging herself into the sea in her dress and shoes.

Today I feel like I could swim from here to America and back.

She desperately wanted to share the letter with someone. But who? Emma was with her boys and Jeremiah in Ribchester. Catherine was with Albert in Belfast. And Libby, well, who had seen her since 1915? There was no one in her family she could show the letter to.

Of course she would read it to Char. She would be ecstatic for Victoria. But somehow the news was bigger than the two of them and she needed to draw someone else into the secret. Who? She went through the list of maids at Dover Sky in her head and rejected all of them. Then Norah came to mind, her personal maid for years before Char. If anyone was trustworthy it was her. Tall, angular, plain, and trustworthy Norah. She could read the letter to her knowing it would never go any farther than that. Running down the stairs from her room she found Norah dusting shelves and straightening books in the library.

Her face was pink from her short run. “Norah. Could I see you a moment, please?”

Norah looked at her face. “Why, whatever is it, Miss Victoria? What has happened to agitate you so?”

“Nothing at all, my dear Norah. Everything is absolutely brilliant. Can you come with me?”

“Of course I can. But what’s all this about?”

Victoria brought the letter out from behind her back. “I have something to share that makes me want to dance. Let’s use Father’s private study. He’s out and about with Fairburn for the afternoon.” She took Norah’s hand. “Come. This will make your day just as it’s made mine.”

Libby placed her hand on the doorknob, closed her eyes, and cried out to God in her mind. Michael Woodhaven IV turned his head as she entered the room. Libby stopped as their eyes met.

“Please,” said Woodhaven. “Come in, Miss Danforth.”

Libby walked slowly to his side. “Captain Woodhaven.”

He half-smiled. Her face was stone.

“I did not think you would return,” he said quietly. “Even at my request. A request accompanied by an apology.”

“I had no intention of returning, Captain. Mrs. Turnbull begged me. A Yank named Eddie Rickenbacker came all the way from his aerodrome near Nancy to plead your case. Then I made the mistake of praying about it. That’s why I’m here.”

“I thought it might have been my good looks and charm.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“No. I suppose I’m not much on looks with lunch covering my face.”

“That was an improvement in my estimation.”

Woodhaven lifted his head. “I know who you are. I’m dreadfully sorry for the way I treated you last week.”