Ashton Park (34 page)

“Oh, Father.” She smiled and glanced over at Kipp. “And how is Christelle doing in Amiens?”

“She writes that she’s fine. Of course she’s looking forward to the June wedding. Her parents have said they’ll certainly attend.”

“Wonderful.”

Kipp stopped walking. “Is that Harrison with Mrs. Seabrooke? And Aunt Holly?”

The others paused with him.

“Yes,” replied Sir William. The good humor left his face. “Holly is gradually recovering her mental faculties. Ever since she left her sickbed last fall she has spent a great deal of time with Mrs. Seabrooke. The poor woman used to take all her meals alone in her room. Now Holly insists on being served with Mrs. Seabrooke in the front parlor. Mrs. Seabrooke seems to be responding to the extra attention. She has even begun helping the maids with dusting and flower arranging.”

“And Harrison spends time with them both?”

“He scarcely left Holly’s side during her illness. Oh, he did all his work, of course. But then he was right back at her side. Norah Cole was similarly devoted. So you’ll see Harrison walking with the two ladies several times a day.”

“Good for him. Bless him.”

They began walking again.

“I hope you men are hungry,” said Libby. “Mrs. Longstaff has cooked up quite a feast in your honor.”

“No worries there. I could eat the bark off a tree,” laughed Michael.

“I want the marriage to work, Catherine.”

Catherine stood with her arms folded over her chest as Albert prepared to leave for work. He paused with his hand on the doorknob.

“You don’t believe me,” he said. “After all these months, you still don’t believe me.”

“I’m a prisoner in my own house. I believe that. I’m a prisoner in my own marriage. I believe that too.”

“I’ve apologized for my affair a thousand times.”

“And I’ll believe that when I’ve heard it five thousand times.”

Albert’s eyes glimmered with anger. “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll prove that I want a home with you. I’ll cook you some fine meals. Sit down with you and a cup of tea and have some fine talks. I’ll be here. In this house. With you. And we’ll make something of it all again.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Look. If you don’t want to give me a second chance you’re free to walk out the door as soon as I’m gone. Go on. Head back to your nuns.”

“Wouldn’t I just love to do that? Everything would be coming up roses until your private detective showed up. Or Father O’Flynn asked me about the divorce proceedings you’d set in motion. No, for now I feel safer here. You’ll find me chained to the stove in the kitchen making meat loaf when you’re back from work. Unless you’d like to do the cooking tonight.”

“Supper will be late if we do it that way.”

“I don’t mind eating late. I don’t have much of an appetite these days. A late supper might help with that.”

Albert turned his back on her and opened the door. People hurried past on the sidewalk while cars and trucks and horses moved up and down the street.

“I’ll be home at six-thirty,” he said without turning around. “I’ll fix the meal. We’ll eat at eight.”

“Suits me,” Catherine responded. “Now I can just lie around all day until you’re back and I can get fed.”

“It was Max got it, you know.”

“What?” Robbie stared at the sergeant major. “He never patrols that district of Dublin.”

“He was helping someone else out.”

Robbie made a fist and smacked it into his hand. “He had two sons. Just babies.”

Surprised at Robbie’s burst of anger, the sergeant major waited a moment before finally speaking. “Aye. So the lads have started taking up a collection for his widow. Can we count you in, Captain?”

“Yes. Of course. Put me down for a hundred pounds.”

The sergeant major raised his eyebrows. “Very good, sir.” He studied Robbie’s dark face. “There was a fight out in the country, you know. Close to Cork. We gave it to them there, sir. I doubt any of the IRA walked away. If that helps.”

“Raising Max from the dead would help, Sergeant Major.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Who is…who is patrolling that district tomorrow?”

“Leftenant Hendricks, sir.”

“You can let him know he has another assignment. I’ll be taking a squad out there tonight.”

The sergeant major nodded. “All right. You’ll discuss it with the colonel?”

“Yes, yes.” Robbie put a fist to his mouth. “I’ll take the same crew back there at dawn.”

“Captain—”

“I don’t like this war, Sergeant Major.” Robbie’s eyes were like black stones. “But they want a fight so we’ll fight. We’ll find out who rules the streets, won’t we? We’ll find out who rules the dead.”

Lady Elizabeth hung up the receiver of the candlestick telephone and smiled at her husband. “Isn’t it wonderful young William is doing so well? Three boys now! Emma will never have a moment’s peace.”

Sir William had been listening to her conversation on the phone with Emma while he read his newspaper. “Born a month early and obviously solid as a rock. Will they be calling him Billy, do you think?”

“Perhaps not a rock, William, but still, it’s something to thank God for. Yes, Jeremiah is already calling him Billy. I don’t think Emma quite likes it.”

He put down his paper after closely reading a few more lines. “I don’t think Mum liked it either when I was a lad, but there you have it. When are they coming down?”

“Not till just before the wedding in June. What is it you’re reading?”

“Why, there was an incident in Dublin—”

Lady Elizabeth got up from her seat by the phone, waving a hand. “I don’t want to hear about any of your war news. Not unless it’s about Robbie’s regiment being sent back to England to rest and refit.”

She walked out of the front parlor just as Kipp was coming in.

“Cheers, Dad,” he said, taking a chair by his father. “Michael and Libby went out for a walk so I thought I’d come by and see you. What news?”

“I was just trying to tell your mother. There was an ambush the other day in Dublin. The IRA set upon one of our patrols and killed quite a few soldiers. Well, an unnamed English officer took a squad back to the ambush site that night, lured the IRA into another attack, and trapped them. Killed the lot. Then went back the next morning and drew another group out that was bent on revenge. Wiped them out as well. Took no prisoners.”

Kipp’s face tightened. “It’s getting grim, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s gone past being an uprising. It’s a proper war now. As much as it was in France and Belgium. Keep your brother in mind. Your mother’s concerned about him, of course. We’re praying for his safety constantly.”

“Of course you are. We all are. But it’s not like Robbie to go in swinging, Dad. You know that. He’ll do his bit but he’s not a fighter. He’ll stay back at HQ and win the war from there.”

Sir William nodded. “I expect you’re right.”

Shannon Dungarvan wrapped the cloak about herself more snugly and adjusted the brim of the hood so it covered more of her face. “It’s gotten ugly, hasn’t it?”

Robbie squeezed her cold hands. “I’m sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry about? They don’t mind killing your men. You fight back and they call you all sorts of names.”

“It’s not in me to strike out like this.”

“Obviously it is. It just needed something to bring it to the surface.”

“They killed a friend—a father with two young children. Something went cold in me—cold and hard—and this anger came—”

“Of course. But my parents don’t care about him. It’s just the Irish dead that matter to them. They would love nothing better than to see you hanging by your neck from a lamppost. I have to listen to their talk day in and day out. No, they don’t pay any mind to the bloodletting the IRA are doing.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that. All you’re doing is what the IRA do all the time. You’re soldiers. It’s all the same thing.”

There was no moon. The blackness was on their faces and shoulders and the gravestones that rose up like a forest around them. She suddenly pulled him behind a cluster of tall oaks and began to kiss him with a ferocity that caught him off guard. Then she gripped his face with so much strength he almost winced.

“I don’t care. You’ve become a fighter but that’s not all you are. They don’t know what I know about you. They don’t see it. They don’t feel it. I love you. I want us to get out of Ireland and leave all this behind. I don’t care about my parents. I don’t care about St. Patrick’s. Let’s just go somewhere that doesn’t know about England or Ireland or the war. You can get us a boat.”

“Shannon.” He looked at how large and fierce and shining her eyes were despite a night of thick clouds and no stars or moon. “I’d be shot for a deserter. We have to see this through. Ireland can get its independence or get Home Rule. Either way the British soldiers will leave and you must leave with us when we do. I had plans about staying—until those gun battles.”

“I know you did. But listen to me. They’ve targeted you for assassination. Father told me. He knows nothing about you and me, and he’s telling me these things, and I have to act pleased. I don’t want you shot or wounded. We can’t wait. They’ll come after you until they put a bullet in your head. There must be some way off this island for us, Robbie.”

Robbie leaned forward and kissed her eyes. “If they did come after me—”