Ashton Park (39 page)

“No letters to the editor. Not for the rest of this year.”

“Catherine—”

“Not for the rest of the year. It’s those that get the IRA worked up. You’ve made your point a hundred times.”

“I’m not afraid of those murderers—”

“You promised.”

She thought his anger would burst forth and his face turn into its familiar pattern of white and red patches. But he fought it down and gave her hand a squeeze.

“All right. I won’t write another until January. Don’t imagine that’ll make them forget about me. The nationalists and I have too long a history.”

She brought her hand back and used it to sprinkle sugar over the butter on her soda bread. “I like to think the fighting will be over in a few more months.”

Albert shook his head and shrugged. “How’s the bread? My father’s recipe.”

“The bread’s good.” She smiled across at him. “Surprisingly for this house and this marriage, the company is even better.”

“Where is Harrison today?”

Mrs. Seabrooke looked at Holly as they sat on the veranda at the south side of the manor. Holly bit into a scone and lifted one hand, palm upward.

“You know how punctual he is, Mrs. Seabrooke. If he’s not with us for our afternoon tea and stroll then there must be a good reason. I know he was helping young Skitt with the sheep just after lunch.”

“I do enjoy his company. I can’t say that about very many in this house.”

“No? Well, be sure to tell him. It will put some sparkle in his step.”

“Isn’t it wonderful having Robbie home again? And what a surprise to see him wed! Without a word to his parents or anyone else!”

Holly smiled. “It’s delightful. She is such a sweetheart. We really must have tea with her later today.”

“I don’t know what to make of all her bruises. They say she was roughly handled by the IRA and that’s why Robbie married her. To get her out of Ireland.”

“She was roughly handled, there’s no doubt of that. But Robbie’s not the kind to up and marry a woman as a gesture of good will. I’m surprised he’s married at all, he’s so shy. You may tell the downstairs gossips Miss Holly believes Robbie is deeply in love with Miss Dungarvan and that he has every reason to be deeply in love with her. One day she’ll be the toast of England.”

Mrs. Seabrooke smiled in a sly way, her eyes smoothing out her face. “I will be sure to tell them exactly that.” Suddenly she half-rose from her seat. “Oh, there’s Harrison. Running Sir William’s dogs.”

Holly glanced across the lawn at Gladstone and Wellington, the two blond shepherds. They were chasing sticks Harrison was throwing. Even in the summer heat he still wore his corduroy jacket and fedora.

“I expect he’s forgotten about us,” said Mrs. Seabrooke, wrinkling her nose.

“I’m sure he’ll be along once he’s worn out the dogs.” Holly sipped at her tea. “I wish I could remember more about him.”

“He helped nurse you. It was Libby and Norah and Harrison.”

“I know. I’ve been told that quite a few times.”

“There were rumors about you and Mr. Harrison.”

“Yes. You’ve told me.”

“I didn’t pay any attention to them.”

“Wise of you.” Holly watched Harrison and the dogs move off into the oak trees by the Castle. “A man and his castle.”

“The maids who’ve cleaned his rooms there say he’s neat as a pin. He’s quite comfortable in there.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“One room for books and magazines. Then the bed and chair and desk. A hall that leads into the heart of the Castle itself—it’s supposed to be haunted.”

“Hm.” Holly wiped her hands together briskly to get the crumbs off her fingers. “Perhaps the next time Harrison joins us for coffee and tea we should insist on having it at the Castle keep.”

“Heavens, Miss Holly, a gentleman is not going to entertain us in his rooms.”

“We could sit just outside if it was a day as pleasant as this one.”

Mrs. Seabrooke pointed with her finger. “Oh, now, he’s gone and forgotten his stick.”

“His stick?”

“You know. The staff he has with him when he goes into the woods. He’s left it leaning against that tree.”

Holly glanced over at it. “Are you sure that’s his?”

“Of course. Who else carries a staff? Todd Turpin doesn’t.”

Holly squinted. “Doesn’t the color seem off to you? And it’s rather short.”

“Well. There’s always been only one staff and only the one person who carries it. Miss Holly. Are you all right?”

Holly was leaning forward in her chair and pressing her fingers to her forehead. “I’m fine…don’t call anyone…just a sudden headache…they usually come and go quickly…it’s all related to the Spanish Flu…

“I can put some water on a cloth—”

“Yes, thank you, just on the back of my neck.”

Mrs. Seabrooke poured water from a pitcher onto the cloth in her hand, squeezed it once, and pressed it down gently onto the nape of Holly’s neck. Holly continued to lean forward.

“That’s very good, Mrs. Seabrooke. That helps.”

“I’m glad I could do something.”

“These attacks always come…when my memory is stirred by something…I just don’t understand quite yet what it is I’m supposed to be grasping…except the front of my head…”

“That’s a good thing then, isn’t it? Perhaps it will come to you, dear, once the headache’s gone.”

“I…I…” Holly suddenly sat back up. Mrs. Seabrooke got to her feet to try and keep the wet cloth in place. Holly looked across the grass to where the staff was still leaning against a tree trunk.

“Mrs. Seabrooke,” she said. “I have the strongest of impressions that the staff Harrison has left against that tree is mine.”

Norah Cole came into the front parlor where Robbie and Shannon were enjoying cups of tea before bed. “There, I’ve found you two. How are you feeling, Mrs. Danforth?”

Shannon managed a tiny smile. “I’m better. Every now and then since—well, every now and then I get headaches and everything inside acts up. The tea and pleasant company helps.” She placed a hand on Robbie’s. “Why were you looking for us?”

“I and a few of the others have put the Rose Room to rights as Lady Elizabeth requested. It will be your room for as long as you are at Ashton Park and kept ready for any occasion when you return for a visit.”

“Why, thank you, Norah—it is Norah? That’s delightful. May we see it now? I should like to lie down and have an early night.”

“Tavy has already seen that your luggage was placed there. Please come with me.”

They followed her up to the third floor and down a long hall to a room with a massive oak door and cast-iron handle. As Norah prepared to swing open the door she turned to them. “I suppose new is not quite the word to use, is it, Mr. Danforth?”

“It’s new to Shannon, at any rate,” he replied. “And I haven’t played in it since I was eight. We boys broke in and were made to drink castor oil with every meal for three days when they caught us. So we never did it again.”

“How old is this room?” asked Shannon as the door swung wide.

“Two hundred years,” replied Norah. “Young for England and Ireland. But bits of furniture and whatnot were placed in it from the Castle, including the great bed. Dukes and duchesses have slept in that bed.”

“And kings and queens.” Robbie smiled. “So we were always told.”

The door swung open.

“Oh, my.” Shannon’s voice was quiet but full. “This is quite a bit more than I expected.”

The lamps and candles had been used rather than electric light, and the warm gold color played over high walls painted with red roses twining and intertwining with one another. Oil paintings of red rosebushes were everywhere. As Shannon walked through room after room she saw that someone had placed fresh red roses throughout the suite as well.

“Lady Elizabeth,” said Norah, following Shannon’s eyes. “She cut and placed them herself. She said to us there had been no time for the two of you to enjoy a honeymoon and we must all pitch in and do our best to make this a bridal suite.”

Shannon shook her head. “It’s astonishing. I’m overcome. I’ve never seen anything like this, let alone lived in it. Are we suddenly royalty, Robbie?”

“The gallant answer to that is that you are my queen,” he responded. “Which is not so far off the mark.”

“Oh, you and your romanticisms.”

They came into the bedroom. Candles glowed over the four-poster canopy bed that took up most of the floor space. Each post was carved with roses and leaves, and the canopy and bedding and pillowcases were a rich red. More oils of red roses were on the walls as well as paintings of kings and queens. Shannon put her hands to her mouth.

“We are going to sleep in that?”

Robbie put his arm around her and kissed the scarf that still covered her head. “Sleep, yes.”

“Why all these paintings? Isn’t that the young Henry VIII? When he was so handsome? And the young Queen Elizabeth?”

“A quick history lesson,” said Robbie. “The Danforths were involved in the Wars of the Roses, which went on from about 1455 to 1485. The royal line of Lancaster fought the royal line of York. The Lancaster side had the red rose for their symbol and York had the white. Things seesawed back and forth until finally Henry VII put down the York supporters once and for all. Henry VIII and his daughter Elizabeth I are of the Lancaster line. Legend has it that Henry VII and Henry VIII both tarried at Danforth Castle. And Elizabeth I as well. And other nobles of the Lancaster line. So you sleep among kings and queens tonight when you lie on this bed.”

“I can’t believe it. I cannot.” Shannon turned to Norah. “Has this room never been used then?”

“There are so many rooms at Ashton Park that are never used, Mrs. Danforth. We keep them sealed up for the most part except for special occasions. You and Mr. Danforth are one of those special occasions. This room hasn’t been lived in for over a hundred years.”

“It smells as sweet as the rose gardens painted over the walls.”

“So we’ve been airing it out and all the windows open. And the fresh roses have been in here all day.”

“There are so many hallways off this bedroom.”

“To washrooms and wardrobes and sitting rooms, Mrs. Danforth. All sorts of rooms. There’s even one where Sir William has arranged some of the most precious relics from the Castle—pikes and swords and suits of armor and carved tables and chairs and tapestries. The tapestries are a wonder. I dusted that room with Harriet and the new girl. We went over every inch. By the time we were done I felt the year was 1485 and if I went out the door I should see the lord of the manor, Henry Danforth, striding down the hallway. And if I stepped onto the lawn there would be knights galloping past on horseback headed for Leicestershire and the Battle of Bosworth Field.”

“If it has the same effect on me I doubt I’ll ever leave this suite. I could live in these rooms and play the princess for a thousand years.”

Robbie pushed back a corner of her scarf and kissed the bright hair growing back underneath. “Why don’t we try that?”

August 1920

Harrison sat on the edge of his bed in the Castle and tied his boots snugly onto his feet, yanking hard on the laces. He stood and threw on his corduroy jacket and fedora and picked up his staff and headed out the door. The sun was just coloring the sky to the east over the oak trees. Several rooks swooped off the battlements at the top of the keep and rushed past him in the direction of Ashton Park and the ash grove. He followed their flight and thought of the old tree he needed to fell that morning, hoping Skitt had returned the large double-bitted axe to its proper shack in the forest. He wondered what he might carve out of the best of the wood once it was safely down. As he emerged from the oak trees a woman stood in his path, hands on her hips.