Ashton Park (9 page)

“Four o’clock!” her father called as they went in the door. “Time for tea, eh, Tavy?”

Tavy smiled and held the door. “It’s all prepared. Welcome home, Sir William.”

“The prime minister has two days respite from my strident voice, Tavy. No doubt he’s as happy about the wedding as all the rest of us are.”

Edward Danforth had snatched four hours sleep after his night watch and was back on deck at his battle station near one of the turrets. At 1520 hours the British light cruisers had signaled “enemy in sight” and opened fire. The Germans’ big ships had begun to zero in on them less than ten minutes later and the British fleet had immediately started returning salvo for salvo. Edward had plugs in his ears to reduce the noise of the guns less than a hundred feet away, though the shock waves made his whole body shudder regardless. He lifted his binoculars and watched the high white geysers of the
Queen Mary
’s shellfire. They were still falling short. He turned to a sailor at his elbow after scribbling a note on a pad.

“They’re not getting it. They need to increase the range.”

“Yes, sir.”

The sailor left with the slip of paper.

A whoosh cut the air over his head and a tower of water burst upward beside the ship, drenching his coat and officer’s cap. Dark smoke to port indicated where the
Indefatigable
had exploded and sunk. To starboard there was another black plume from the wounded
Lion.
Edward checked his watch: 1620 hours, just twenty minutes after four in the afternoon, and already the fight seemed like a shambles, certainly no rout of the enemy like Lord Nelson’s victory at Trafalgar in 1805.

More spray showered him. He had identified the
Seydlitz
as one of the German battle cruisers firing at them. Now he was sure they were being targeted by the
Defflinger
as well. How long would it take before the combined fire of two ships finally scored a hit? Unless the
Queen Mary
sank them first. The turret nearby thundered again and the deck under his feet shook. He counted off the seconds, watching the guns of the German ships winking through his binoculars as more salvos came their way.

Suddenly the whole ship seemed to lift out of the water. Flames and smoke spewed into the air. Edward was hurled upward and then thrown to his hands and knees. He staggered to his feet, binoculars gone, cheek cut and bleeding, cold water on his face. Lurching up the deck alongside other sailors he tried to see where the ship had been damaged. One part of his mind was numb while the other part observed and made calculations. Twice they had been struck by German shells. Perhaps three times. All at once. If the German gunners adjusted nothing the next salvo would hit them too.

He spotted McGrail coming toward him. The chief petty officer was shouting. Edward struggled to move but the ship was listing and he stumbled. The air flashed red and black. He was picked up, twisted, and tossed into flames and oil and saltwater that bit his face and body with a fierce cold and a burning heat.

The five siblings had mounted their horses and were headed out toward the groves.

“I’m surprised you joined us, Cath,” Victoria said.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Sis.”

“Don’t be silly.” Victoria smiled at Catherine. “I love having all of us out here riding together.”

“I had hoped it would lift my spirits to go through the green and gold of the ash grove. But I don’t know that it will make a difference, Vic. I can’t go back to my childhood. Sorry to be such a raincloud this visit.”

Emma was riding on ahead through the trees with Robbie and Kipp. Victoria drew her mare, Robin, closer to Catherine’s side and put a hand on her sister’s arm briefly.

“What is it, Cath? Can I help?”

Catherine looked at her, glanced ahead at the others, then back at Victoria. She stopped, squared her shoulders, let them drop, and stared down at the horse’s mane. “Albert would be furious. That I was talking about family matters. But here it is. It’s this Irish thing, you see. It was bad enough before the rebellion. But now he’s writing more and more letters to the editors of the Belfast and Dublin papers. No independence. No Home Rule. Union with Britain forever. He’s gotten so many angry responses. Especially when he wrote that they didn’t shoot enough of the rebels. Or that shooting was too good for them. One of the fellows who works at a local paper—well, we know him from church—he came by to see me when Albert was out and warned me—
warned
me Albert was being lumped in with the Protestant extremists—it would make him a target of the Irish Republican Brotherhood. If any kind of fighting broke out again…they would…assassinate him…”

Catherine drooped over her saddle. For a few minutes, she put her hand on Victoria’s where it rested on her arm. Tears and a smile came at the same time. She slipped her eyes up to look at her younger sister.

“Remember when we both fought over Ben Whitecross two years ago?” Catherine asked.

The mention of Ben made Victoria cringe and conjured up swift images of severed heads in shell holes and dead bodies tangled in coils of barbed wire. But the other images of hair-pulling with Catherine and kicking each other’s shins by the sea cliff made her smile.

“Ben would have been quite the catch with his black hair and flashing blue eyes,” said Catherine. “And, by rights, I should have had him, since I’m older than you. But ladies do not marry the grooms that work the estate’s horses.”

“So they say. Yes, quite the catch, I agree.”

“Where is he now? Mum said he’d gone off to war with father’s blessing.”

Victoria’s face tightened. “Oh, yes, bravely marching off to war, just because he felt guilty that Robbie was in danger. There’s been not a word about his regiment or where he’s been stationed. No letters to anyone in the household or to any of the servants.”

“Maybe it’s best that way, Victoria,” Emma said. She had trotted back and pulled alongside her sisters as Robbie and Kipp raced each other through a sunny glade. Victoria glanced over at her in surprise.

“Why is it better to lose touch with a trusted servant who has taken care of our horses and driven us safely everywhere we needed to go?”

Emma looked at Catherine and Victoria and shrugged. “Do we need secrets at our age? You were infatuated with him, Vic. You are a sensible girl but headstrong and passionate and you’d convinced yourself that you loved him.”

“What?” Victoria reined in her horse.

“Were you going to have his child? Become his wife regardless of your social standing? Ruin our good name? Ruin yourself?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Midnight visit after midnight visit. We’re not schoolgirls anymore, Victoria. We’re women. We can’t play those kinds of games. We can’t indulge in those sorts of fantasies.”

Victoria stared at her. “You told someone.”

“I told Mrs. Seabrooke. No one else.”

“And—she—”

“Dismissed him. Or rather, gave him a choice. Dismissal and a loss of references. Or enlisting and serving his country—and going far away from you and Ashton Park.”

“You made him go to war. He could get killed, Em.”

Emma’s face colored. “Jeremiah went to war. No one forced him. He could have been killed. Thank God he came back. Ben Whitecross can come back too, Victoria. But not to you.”

Victoria hurled herself out of her saddle into Emma and they both slammed into the ground. Pinning her down, Victoria attacked her with her fists and nails. Emma warded off many of the blows, but not all—in moments her nose and lips were bleeding and there were scratches on her cheeks. Their horses snorted and shied and ran off. Catherine watched her sisters fighting in a kind of shock before finally jumping off her mount and hauling Victoria off Emma.

“How could you?” shrieked Victoria, her face dark with blood as Catherine held her back. “You spy! Ratting to Mrs. Seabrooke! You could get him killed! He made sure you never got killed all the years he drove you about in your coaches and carriages! Curse you, Emma Danforth! Murderer!”

She tried to struggle free and kick at Emma’s head but Robbie and Kipp came galloping up, Kipp leaping down and seizing Victoria just as she broke free of Catherine’s grip.

“Hullo, hullo, what’s all this?” he demanded. “Fifteen minutes ago you two were best of friends. We leave you alone a few moments and you’re scratching each other’s eyes out?”

“She wants to kill Ben Whitecross!” spat Victoria, green eyes flaming.

Emma sat up, bleeding but not crying. Her face was defiant. “Vic was having a romantic relationship with Ben. I put a stop to it. It was my duty.”

“Your
duty
?” Victoria almost broke free of Kipp. “You crucified him!”

“Don’t talk nonsense!” snapped Emma, putting her hands to her cheeks. “He’s not the Lord Jesus Christ, is he?” She looked at the blood on her palms. “I’m to be wed tomorrow afternoon.”

“Soap and water. You’ll be radiant, Em.” Kipp shook Victoria. “Will you leave off?”

“I will not leave off. She doesn’t deserve to be married. Not ever.”

“Someone’s coming,” said Robbie. “One of the servants. He’s approaching quite rapidly. It would be best if this incident did not become downstairs gossip.”

Catherine helped Emma up as Todd Turpin galloped up to them.

“What happened here then?” he asked before saying anything else.

“I was thrown,” replied Emma. “I’m a bit shook up. A few cuts and knocks.”

“We must get ye back to the manor.”

“Of course. We were just about to do that.”

“I hope ye’ll be all right, Miss Danforth.”

“I’ll be fine, Todd Turpin. Thank you.” She forced a smile. “Why have you come looking for us in such a hurry? It’s still an hour to dinner.”

Todd quickly took the flat tweed cap off his head. “I’m sorry. A cable’s just come to Sir William. He asked me to fetch you. There’s been battle out at sea and it hasn’t gone that well for us. Your brother’s ship has been sunk. God help us, the
Queen Mary
has gone down and there are no survivors.”

Mrs. Longstaff had cooked a special meal of roast pork and fresh applesauce but Lady Elizabeth wouldn’t come down from her room for dinner. What was meant to be a family celebration on the eve of the wedding deteriorated into a listless and practically silent affair. Emma had argued the ceremony must be postponed again, struggling with her tears and disappointment, but her father would not hear of it.