Ashton Park (8 page)

“If you can swim. If you get picked up before you freeze to death. If you’re not below decks and go down with the ship.”

McGrail smoked a moment. “Do you think the German’s High Seas Fleet is out of port now too, Commander?”

“I should think so.”

“You reckon they know about us being out of our Scottish dock?”

“We’ve been at sea, what now, an hour and a half? I’m sure their U-boats have reported in.”

“I expect they can recognize us.”

“Their crews have memorized our ships’ silhouettes just like we have theirs. So many smokestacks. So many guns. Thus and thus high is the superstructure.”

“Zere goes ze
Queen Mary,
Hans.” McGrail imitated a German accent. “Yah, for sure zat’s her, Fritzie. Quick, run und tell ze Kaiser.” He flicked the butt of his cigarette into the sea. It glowed orange a moment and was gone. “Do you think the Kaiser has a battle cruiser named after
his
wife?”

Edward Danforth smiled in the cold dark. “I have no idea if any woman would have the Kaiser. Wife or otherwise.”

“I heard he was Queen Victoria’s grandson.”

“True. But all resemblance to England ends there, McGrail. Those are his ships we’re heading out to fight.”

McGrail looked over his shoulder at the long barrels of one of the gun turrets looming in the blackness. “The thirteen-point-five inchers will take care of that business.”

“I hope so, McGrail. I surely hope so.”

“What on earth is she running around for?” grumbled Sir Arthur.

Aunt Holly glanced at him. “What on earth is
who
running around for?”

“My daughter.”

“It’s a wedding, Arthur. Her child’s wedding. Your granddaughter. Heaven knows Elizabeth has had enough to fret about over the past few months. Let her enjoy herself.”

“Enjoy herself?” Sir Arthur stamped the butt of his cane on the stone floor of the chapel where he was seated. “She has a thousand maids to do her running for her.”

“Oh, don’t be so medieval. The maids and footmen are doing their part. Elizabeth is simply bursting with good-natured energy. Don’t you remember what that’s like?”

“I have no idea why.”

Aunt Holly slapped him on the leg. “I feel like pinching you. So you’ll wake up. She has two of her sons home on leave for the wedding. The second attempt at the wedding, I might add. Sir William is due here from Lime Street Station in an hour. Do you understand now why she’s bursting?”

“Which sons?”

“Well, if Edward is still at port in Scotland that only leaves two, doesn’t it? Kipp and Robbie. You’ve dined with them the last three nights, for heaven’s sakes.”

Sir Arthur scowled as a footman dropped an armful of tall candles. “How is it that one of those boys has black hair and the other is blond?”

“The black hair comes from my side of the family. Any red or auburn from Elizabeth and your relatives. Any blond is from you yourself, you old fool. They say you had hair like sunlight when you were young.”

“I did not.”

“You did. There are photographs. Dozens of them. Shall I fetch them from the library?”

Sir Arthur frowned at a maid adjusting green and gold ribbons by a window. “I don’t much care for photographs. Don’t trust ’em. I think the Hottentots in Africa were right about that. Steal your soul.”

“You mean the Khoikhoi.”

Sir Arthur struck the floor with his cane again. “I mean the Hottentots.”

The two younger Danforth sons had arrived home and Kipp was out on the lawns walking with Victoria. He took a white silk scarf out of the pocket of his heavy leather jacket and wrapped it around his sister’s throat.

“There now,” he said. “You’re all ready.”

Victoria laughed. “Ready to do what?”

“Ready to fly.”

“Is that all it takes?”

One side of Kipp’s mouth curled up in a half-smile. “Pretty much.”

“Well, at the very least it will help keep me warm while we wait for Papa and his coach to come through the trees. He’ll be so happy to see you and Robbie. He’s missed you both very much. We all have.”

Kipp grinned. “Papa and his coach. When will he break down and get a motorcar or two? And while he’s at it, he could get the whole estate wired for electricity.”

“Ah, you know our father. The incurable romantic. He says mother looks lovely in candlelight. And so she does.”

“You can have electricity and still use candles and lamps when you want.”

“How long are you with us?”

He shrugged. “I got here on Friday, right? Now it’s, what, Tuesday afternoon? May thirty-first? So I told them the wedding would be on the first of June and they want me back three days after that.”

“Oh, can’t you stay longer?”

“Probably not.”

Victoria pouted, squeezing his arm with her hands. “It isn’t fair, is it? I’ve got my two favorite brothers at home with me and it’s only for a few short days.”

“Well, there’s a war on, love.”

Her emerald eyes flared in the sunlight. “How I wish there wasn’t a war on. I wish the whole beastly thing would disappear into a great dark hole and leave all the men and women behind. Alive. Unwounded.”

“Always dreaming, Vic.”

She folded her arms over her chest and dark green cloak. Her eyes turned jade. “There is not much else to do stuck at Ashton Park.”

“Stuck? Would you like to visit France?”

“And spend my days in a muddy trench wrapped up tight in barbed wire? No, thank you. Now if I could be up in the air with my golden-haired brother and flying through the fleecy clouds, that I might consider.” She looked behind her. “And speaking of brothers, I thought Robbie was going to join us.”

“I’m here!” A tall young man in army uniform called to them from the stables. “Be with you two in just a tick.”

Victoria stared. “I thought you were in the house with Mum. What are you doing down there?”

“Checking on my mare. Checking on Majestic.”

“All’s well?”

“Very well. Had her out yesterday. Either of you fancy a ride over the property this evening after Dad’s arrived?”

“You’re on!” called Kipp.

Victoria smiled at them. “I can’t very well let you two go gallivanting off alone, can I? After tea then?”

Robbie walked across the lawn from the stables and joined them. “You don’t suppose Cath or Em would have a go?”

“The night before her wedding?” Victoria lifted her eyebrows. “She might or might not. Cath won’t.”

“Are you sure?” asked Robbie.

“You see how glum she is. Worse than usual.”

Kipp grunted. “Why is that?”

“Oh, who knows? She and Albert maybe?”

Robbie put his arm around his sister. “So maybe a ride is just the thing.”

“Well, you can ask her at tea, if you’d like.” Victoria looked her youngest brother up and down. “You’re none the worse for wear after Dublin, are you?”

Robbie looked ahead at the avenue lined with sweeping oaks. “They were gentlemen, Vic. Never had any intention of doing me harm. Did everything in their power to keep me safe from British machine guns and artillery. Then let me go when all was lost. Had no idea of using me as a hostage.”

Victoria looked up at him. “You sound well-disposed toward the Irish. I expected it would be the other way round.”

“I’m afraid we weren’t so merciful to them, Vic. I dreaded getting the news about the executions.”

“We had a couple of Irish in our squadron,” Kipp spoke up. “Great chaps. Both brilliant fliers. I gather they didn’t care much for the Easter uprising. Thought all the fuss it stirred up would quietly slip away like a tailwind. But they weren’t happy about the secret trials and the executions by firing squad—what was it in the end, twelve or fifteen who were shot? That soured them. Last I saw they were talking independence like the most hotheaded Republicans.”

“That’s just it,” replied Robbie. “The executions have made the whole Irish situation worse.” He kicked at a loose stone. “And where are they, those two? Transferred?”

“Went down on the same afternoon a few hours apart.”

Victoria was grateful she could break up the conversation. “Here he comes.”

Todd Turpin brought the coach smoothly around the drive to the door.

“Ah, there they are!” exclaimed Sir William, climbing out. “My two boys! Sound and healthy, I thank God!”

He took Robbie into his arms and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m so glad you’re home and safe. So grateful. How we prayed.”

Robbie returned the vigorous hug, closing his eyes. “Thank you, Father.”

“How happy your mother must have been to see you.” A glimmer of moisture came to Sir William’s eyes as he stepped back to look at Robbie. “You seem well, Son.”

“They didn’t mistreat me. It’s just as I wrote in my letter.” He hesitated. “Father, thank you for your speech against the executions. I know you were jeered by the prime minister’s people.”

Sir William’s face hardened for a few moments. “You’d think we were Kaiser Wilhelm’s Germany the way we tried and shot those men. A disgrace. And a blow to all my good intentions for Ireland. There is another fight coming. The shootings opened the door wide to that.” He smiled. “But you’re alive and fit, so let’s not despair.” He gripped the shoulder of his other son. “And we have Kipp with us too. Welcome home, my boy.”

They shook hands warmly and embraced.

Kipp grinned. “Hello, Father. You’d have reached Ashton Park faster in a car, you know.”

His father laughed. “Or a plane. Well, we had a motor in 1914, you’ll recall, before you joined up, and it wasn’t much good, was it?”

“You can purchase far better ones now.”

“Well, we’ll see, we’ll see. You look wonderful, Kipp. Still glad you’re in the air and not on the ground?”

“Very much so. I love the flying.”

“I can see that. They feed you pilots well?”

“Very well.”

“The thing at hand now is the wedding. Victoria.” He kissed his daughter. “How is Emma holding up?”

“She’s very excited, Father. As you might expect.”

“And why shouldn’t she be? Perfect weather. The whole family here except for Libby and Edward. A second crack at getting married to Jeremiah. The poor girl has had to wait an entire month since the postponement at Easter.” His voice dropped and his face took on its characteristic lines around the eyes and mouth. “I got word before I left London that the Grand Fleet, including Edward’s ship, left Rosyth last night. They’re expected to come to grips with the German High Seas Fleet, though where and when is anyone’s guess. There was no action this morning. I’ll tell your mother, of course, but I don’t wish to postpone dear Emma’s wedding a second time. We must get on with it. They’ll courier cables up to the house here if anything happens.”

He put his arms around his two sons and they walked toward the door. Victoria smiled at the sight: the older man walking with his very tall and very slender son, with the black hair of Aunt Holly and Catherine and the quiet smile of Libby, alongside another son with broad shoulders, hair like morning light, and eyes greener and more piercing than her own. She thought of Ben Whitecross’s hair and eyes and her smile was gone instantly.