Ashton Park (6 page)

“What is the officer’s rank?”

“He’s a colonel, Mrs. Seabrooke.”

“A colonel!”

“I believe this is a matter that has to do with Ireland.”

She stood up, banging her knee against the desk. “It’s about Robbie.”

“I expect so.”

“Oh, Lord, what has happened?”

Tavy cleared his throat quickly. “The colonel, of course, will not speak of it. I have him in the library with a tea. One of the staff—Wallace—was mentioning there was a bit of a to-do going on in Dublin. It hasn’t received a great deal of reportage. Some Irishmen have taken over a post office, of all things. The article Wallace read did not offer a great deal of information.”

“Surely Sir William has read the same article?”

“I think not. He would have said something. In fact, he has sworn off all newspapers during Parliament’s Easter recess.”

Mrs. Seabrooke blew out a lungful of air. “Who have you sent to find him?”

“Young Heatherington. And Todd Turpin. Todd is on horseback.”

“Sir William!”

The blond shepherds ran barking up to the horse Todd Turpin was riding. Sir William waved a walking stick.

“Hullo, Todd. Felt I needed a breath of fresh air before tea. What are you up to then?”

Todd climbed down from the black gelding. “I’ve been sent to fetch ye, sir. There’s an army officer up at the house who says he must speak with ye on a matter of some urgency.”

Sir William frowned, reaching down to pet his dogs. “Army officer?”

“Aye, sir. Please take my horse. Ye know old Star. I’ll bring the dogs along.”

Sir William placed his walking stick in Todd’s hands. “I am obliged to you.”

He climbed into the saddle and turned the gelding’s head with the reins. He urged Star into a gallop and moved rapidly across the field and onto a path through the ash trees.

Sir William, upon returning to the manor, gathered Lady Elizabeth and the two made their way to the library. A few moments later, Tavy opened the door and before he could usher the colonel in, Lady Elizabeth rushed up to the visitor and said, “Colonel, what is it? Is it my son? What’s happened?”

The officer was a large man with square shoulders and jaw and a full mustache as dark as boot polish. He kept his arms at his side.

“Lady Elizabeth. Sir William. I am Colonel Harraway. I’m very sorry to tell you that your son, Leftenant Robert Danforth, has been captured by Irish rebels. As far as we know, he is perfectly fine.”

“As far as you know?”

“Lady Elizabeth. Your son and a Corporal Collingwood were seen being marched into the Dublin post office at gunpoint. The post office is currently a rebel stronghold. Leftenant Danforth is a prisoner of war. That’s the extent of our knowledge at this point.”

Sir William put his hands behind his back. “I’ve received several notes from Westminster about the affair, Colonel. No doubt the papers will soon be full of whatever news they’re allowed to print about the uprising. But I would like to hear your point of view as a military man.”

“Very well. The rebels took over a number of buildings and intersections in Dublin on Easter Sunday. No one thought much of it. The next day they murdered a troop of British Lancers—shot them to death in the street. Tuesday the number of engagements between our forces and the rebels increased. Your son was on reconnaissance and attempting to assess the strength of the rebel position at the post office when he was captured. I can tell you the fighting has continued to intensify since then. We have already taken back some of the buildings the rebels have occupied. The fighting will continue until we have completely wrested Dublin out of their hands.”

“And how long will that take?” demanded Sir William.

The colonel remained at attention. “Well, sir, the rebels do not enjoy popular support. Our troops are moving in on all fronts. It’s Wednesday. We mean to have the city under the Union Jack by the weekend. If necessary we’ll employ artillery.”

“Artillery!”

“Yes, Sir William. We can’t have this fire going on in our backyard when Europe is an inferno. It must be dealt with sharply. Artillery. Incendiaries. By whatever means necessary.”

“Artillery can be—notoriously imprecise. You’ll lay waste to whole streets.”

The colonel nodded. “Can’t be helped, sir. It’s war.”

Lady Elizabeth sat down and began to weep.

“Thank you for coming to tell us,” Sir William said. “We do appreciate the effort.

With that, the colonel expressed his sympathies and turned to leave. Sir William sat beside his wife and took her hands in his.

“Bear up, my dear. Our Robbie will be safe. He must be safe.”

Victoria lay beside Ben on a fresh bed of straw and ran her fingers through the dark curls on his head. A lantern hung from a beam one stall over.

“We don’t have much more time,” she said.

“Ah, love, just give me a minute.”

“You know Em called off the wedding?” she asked.

“I did know that. Mrs. Seabrooke called the staff together this afternoon and explained the situation. I’m sorry for you and your family, Vic. Robbie was always decent to me, especially when we were boys and I had the job of mucking out the stables. He never put on airs. Not like your brother Edward.”

“Oh, well, Edward. He’s the firstborn son. That’s the problem. Fancies himself lord of the manor already.”

“How are your parents holding up?”

She leaned her head on one elbow so that she could look him in the face. “They take care of each other. He brings her to the chapel to pray. That helps.”

“I’m praying.”

“Are you?”

“I am. I believe in it. Though I can’t say things always turn out the way I wish.”

She ran her fingers over his lips. “Do you pray about us?”

“Always.”

“What do you pray about then?”

“That you’ll love me.”

“I do love you.”

He smiled and played with a strand of her hair. “I pray that you’ll love me forever.”

“Forever! That sounds serious.”

He stopped smiling and sat up. He took her face in his hands. “So I am serious. I think about marrying you.”

Her eyes widened in the lamplight. “Marriage.”

“But it’s mad. Your parents would never agree to it.”

“We could persuade them if you really mean what you’re saying.”

He kissed her on the cheek. “How could we persuade them? I’m a poor stable groom who smells like horses. They’ll want you wed to a duke.”

“I don’t fancy dukes. I fancy you.”

“Sometimes I feel like going down to Liverpool and signing up. Ship over to France and do something brave and noble. Come back an officer. Decorated. A war hero. Then Sir William would sit up and take notice.”

Victoria took her hand from his curls. “Don’t talk that way, Ben. I don’t want a dead man or an armless man. You don’t need to kill yourself in that mess over there. They haven’t come after you with an enlistment form, have they? So thank God and stay close to me and we’ll work it out together. My father and mother aren’t that set in their ways.”

Ben groaned. “Of course they are. I’ll have to do something, I tell you. They’ll never consider a marriage otherwise.”

She narrowed her eyes and brought one of her hands to his lips. “No more talk of your war ideas. Put them out of your head.”

She drew him to herself and kissed him.

Sir William rubbed his forehead as he looked at the figures on the sheet of paper. “I’m sorry, Albert. What was that again? What am I looking for?”

Albert leaned back in his chair. “I think we should take a break, sir. You have a lot on your mind.”

“No. It’s best to do things. Not sit and fret. It’s best to occupy the mind at such times.”

Albert smoothed his mustache. Then he pointed to his left eye. “I wish I didn’t have this bad eye, Sir William. I wish my vision was sharp as a hawk’s. I’d have enlisted long ago. I’d have asked for Dublin too. I’d have taken proper care of those Republican sods by now. You and Lady Elizabeth wouldn’t be grieving as you are.”

“No one blames you for your eye, Albert. I’m glad I have you managing the family’s affairs in Northern Ireland.”

Albert made to say something, stopped, then leaned forward. “I know you think you’re doing your best for them by trying to persuade them to adopt Home Rule. But it won’t work. Remaining united to England is Ireland’s future. It always has been. Do you think Ulster would ever vote for Home Rule? Or independence? We’d sooner die than be ruled by a Catholic majority.”

Sir William removed his glasses and stared at him. “You have hard and fast opinions, Albert. It might be best if you did not voice them overmuch.”

The splotches of red became more prominent on Albert’s face. “You needn’t fear I would speak in the wrong place at the wrong time and adversely affect the family business.”

“I’m not afraid for the family business. I’m afraid for you. And for my daughter. I feel I misjudged not only the passion for independence a number of the Irish hold to—I misjudged their capacity to fight. I do not wish you to become a target as my son Robbie has become a target.”

Albert shook his head. “No fear of that, Sir William. Belfast couldn’t be a safer place for a fellow with my point of view. It’s not Dublin, you know. It’s a Protestant town. Loyal to the king.”

Sir William returned his glasses to his face. “Nevertheless. I would prefer more prudence, Albert Moore. I think I make myself understood.”

Albert stiffened in his chair and nodded. “Yes, sir. You do, sir.”

Aunt Holly walked quietly down the hallway and peered in at the chapel. Afternoon light made the stained glass burn with colors. It also made it painfully obvious that the wedding decorations she had helped the maids lay out so carefully had all been removed. Not even a candle was left.

She stepped inside. Lady Elizabeth was kneeling at the altar in a simple gray dress. Aunt Holly came up softly and knelt beside her. Lady Elizabeth lifted her head.

“Holly. I thought it was one of my daughters.”

“No. It’s just me. Sorry.”

Lady Elizabeth did not want to smile but it formed on her lips anyway. “I’m not sorry. Just surprised. You never struck me as a praying person.”

“I suppose I’m not.”

“Then why join me here?”

“You never know. God might look down and take pity on you because you’re saddled with me.”

Lady Elizabeth was astonished to hear herself laugh. “Do you think that’s the way it works?”

Aunt Holly put a hand on Lady Elizabeth’s back. “I don’t know how it works because prayer has never seemed to work for me. But who knows? Kneeling together might make a difference. The believer and the prodigal. God has a soft spot for prodigals, doesn’t He?”

“What would you like to pray with me?”

“How about the Lord’s Prayer? I still remember that. Or is it too common?”

“It’s not too common at all. But you start, my dear.”

Aunt Holly bowed her head, closed her eyes, and clasped her hands. “I feel like a fool. But I’ll do it. God won’t see me backing down.
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name…
”