Ashton Park (12 page)

Emma put the letter down and rubbed her hand over her eyes. Her husband looked up from the bowl of oatmeal he was eating.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s nothing.” She stared at the oatmeal. “Why aren’t you using brown sugar on that?”

“I said I’d give up sugar for Lent.”

“Right. And I’ve given up tea with cream. I could use a cup.”

“So what’s in the letter from your sister?”

“Oh, Libby’s going on about making amends with Victoria. As if it’s so easy to do. She’s across the Channel in France and we’re up here at Ribchester.”

“The train to Liverpool and Ashton Park is fast enough.”

“Well, I don’t have anything to say!” flared Emma. “Victoria attacked me. Almost broke my back in my fall off the horse. And those cuts and scratches took weeks to heal. And here is Libby—” she waved the letter in Jeremiah’s face “preaching about forgiveness.”

“It’s Easter, isn’t it?”

“Oh, don’t you start. One sermon from France is about all I can handle this morning. Victoria might try a measure of forgiveness too. But I’m the older sister so of course I’m expected to take the first step. I was only trying to spare her. Mother and Father would never have agreed to the marriage. Never in a million years. So my headstrong sister would have run off with him and ruined her life. No.”

Emma got up from the table and went to the window that overlooked the river that ran nearby. Raindrops tap-tapped on the pane and she put her palm on the glass and spread her fingers.

“He’s not been killed or wounded, you know.”

Jeremiah bit into a piece of toast. “What’s that?”

“I never look, but Harrison reads the casualty lists every day. Has done since the war started. Ben Whitecross has never shown up. At least not since the last time I spoke with Harrison. Thank God.”

Jeremiah wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned back in his seat. “What would you do if he returned to Ashton Park?”

“Let Mother and Father know about it. Let them deal with the problem. I tried to spare them, and look how that turned out. Vic and I were never the ones to quarrel with each other.”

“I need to go down to Liverpool in a few days to see the bishop. I’ll take the train. Would you like to join me? We could pop up to the manor after I’ve finished my business.”

Emma turned away from the window. “An invitation from the Reverend Jeremiah Sweet. I can’t let that one go by, can I?”

“Entirely up to you. I have no idea if you’re ready to talk with your sister. You shouldn’t do it if you’re not ready.”

“Oh, I suppose I’ll be ready. Libby’s right—as usual. It’s past time. That doesn’t mean she’ll be open to patching things up, Jeremiah.”

“I realize that.”

“She can hold onto things for a long time. And she’s done wild things when her temper’s gotten the better of her. Set fire to one of the sheds in the forest once. She was twelve. Good thing the whole forest didn’t go up. Another time she pitched a lot of Cath’s clothes over the cliff into the sea. I can’t remember what that was all about. She’s mad, you know, when she wants to be. Completely mad.” She tucked Libby’s letter in a drawer in the kitchen. “So that’s why I’ll go down with you, whether I think I’m ready or not. I’d hate to have her set fire to the manor or throw Mrs. Seabrooke headfirst off the cliff.”

Easter 1917

At first Victoria had slept well. Then at four in the morning she shot up in bed, gasping, her mind full of dead and dismembered bodies. At breakfast she had calmed down, though she could not smile. She barely noticed her brother Edward’s new energy and enthusiasm, saying simply she was glad he was finally feeling better after what he’d been through on the
Queen Mary
and
Tipperary.
Her mother groaned when she said Todd was driving her into Liverpool.

“Not another march, Victoria. You just went on one. They’ll certainly arrest you if you keep this up.”

“I’m not marching, mother. Easter shopping. That’s all.”

Lady Elizabeth’s face relaxed. “How delightful it is to hear a normal phrase come out of your mouth.
Easter shopping.
I do wish I was free to come with you. Or that you’d made plans to meet Emma there.”

“I’ll be fine. I hope to be home early.”

“And Todd is accompanying you?”

“Just Old Todd. No one else.”

But there was someone else. Harrison had things to pick up in the city and joined them for the trip, sitting next to Todd, who handled the horses from the driver’s seat.

Harrison leaned down from his perch toward Victoria’s open window. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Victoria sat back in her seat. “Why should I mind? Three’s company.”

“I expect there will be great crowds with Easter almost upon us.”

Victoria looked out the window. She had no interest in chatting. The carriage moved onto the main road and the rush of air and rumble of wheels made conversation difficult. Harrison sat back up and spoke to Todd. Both of the men laughed.

She pushed everything from her mind. She only rehearsed taking the suitcase from the man and inserting the key in each lock and twisting it. Over and over again. When they reached the city, Harrison asked to be let off early and promised to meet them later. Todd and Victoria carried on to Lime Street Station, where Victoria alighted.

“I won’t be more than an hour,” she promised.

“That’s short shopping for a lady.”

“I don’t need much. Make sure you’re ready. I want to get home early.”

He touched the brim of his tweed cap. “I’ll be here.”

Victoria walked into the station. She was dressed in a plain gray dress with an even plainer broad-brimmed black hat. Deciding it was best not to stand still or walk about in circles, she headed toward the first train platform. She had hardly gone a dozen steps before a voice behind her said, “Here’s your case, Miss.”

She turned. The man had a cheerful face with neatly trimmed mustache and beard. He tipped his bowler hat and put the case in her hand. As the tall woman in the room had promised, it was large but fairly light. He handed her a small brass key.

“There you are, my dear,” the man said with a smile. “Set it by the cab stand in about fifteen minutes, please. Remain with it there for at least five. Then walk away. Make sure there a lot of people around you so that you are not noticed when you leave the case behind. I wish you a pleasant day.”

He walked off into the interior of the station. After a moment, Victoria followed him, carrying the case in her right hand and the key in her left. She stopped at the large board that announced arrivals and departures and studied it along with other women and men. Then went to platform two and watched the hissing locomotive that squatted there, preparing to head to Birmingham. After a few minutes she wandered to platform one, set her case down, watched the train unload passengers for several minutes, then picked the case up and headed toward the arrival and departure board once again.

Her eyes saw nothing. She was in her head. She would set the case down where the horse-drawn cabs waited for fares. She would stand by the case a few minutes, looking about in her handbag. If a cabbie called to her she would say she had already made arrangements with another driver and was waiting on him. When it was busy she would insert the key in each lock and turn it. Hang about another five minutes and head to where Todd Turpin waited for her. If someone called and said she had forgotten her case she would thank them and tell them she would be back in a few minutes. If they persisted she would ask them to watch it for her until she returned.

She made her way to the cabstand but stood back, not wanting to be hailed. She rooted around in her handbag, seeing none of the items inside. A train had arrived from up north and a crowd of passengers suddenly appeared, each of them calling out for a cab. She knelt by the case and put the key in one of the locks. She noticed that her hand was not shaking and that her palm was dry. She turned the key. Now her ears filled with the sound of her heart and the pumping of her blood. Now she hesitated as she prepared to insert the key in the second lock.

“How long will it take with the bishop?”

“An hour. We’ll discuss the ministry at Ribchester and a few other matters. There is a beautiful garden you can sit in while you wait.”

“It’s a fine day. I like the sound of that.”

“When I’m done we can shop a bit before we rent a coach and head up to Ashton Park.”

“I like the sound of that too.”

The blood seemed to run through Victoria’s head and chest even more loudly. It was the voices of Emma and Jeremiah. She bent her head as low as she could and tugged on her wide hat brim. They hailed a cab, and she heard Emma laugh as Jeremiah helped her up. After counting to ten, she lifted her head and watched them pull away from the station, Emma still laughing, her ordinary face, as always, made radiant by her smile.

I could have killed her if I had primed the bomb sooner.

With this thought came a rush of fear. She could have blown her sister apart. Murdered her. She put a hand to her mouth and gagged. With all the anger and hatred she had nursed for a year she did not want her sister’s death. Suddenly she saw the children and their mothers for the first time. The bomb would tear them to pieces. Little girls. Little boys. She put a hand to her head and drew in large breaths of air. People were all around her, shouting, whistling to cabbies, arguing.

As she stood up, the blood rushed to her feet and she almost fell. Regaining her balance, she threw the brass key as far as she could toward the street. Todd was only around the corner. She would get him to drive to the docks, where she could drop the case into the sea. He would ask her why they were throwing a perfectly good suitcase into the water to sink and disappear in the harbor muck. She would have an answer to that by the time she reached the coach. She began to walk rapidly away from the cabstand, holding the case tightly.

A hand gripped her arm and made her cry out. It was the man with the bowler hat who had given her the suitcase. His face was not cheerful now. It was scarlet with rage.

“Lost our nerve, did we? Did you think no one was watching? Give me the case!”

He grabbed at the handle but she pulled it away from him. “No!”

The man kept his voice down. “Surrender it, Miss Danforth. We should have known better than to trust a rich man’s daughter. Surrender it or I’ll cut your throat.”

He hauled her into a corner of the station that was dark and stacked high with wooden pallets. They fought for the suitcase. Finally he got it from her.

“We’re just a couple having a bit of a quarrel. No one is taking notice. If you scream, I’ll tell the police I was stopping you from setting off a bomb. Where is the key?”

“I threw it away.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why is it that killing people is always so important? Why is it that murdering children is always supposed to make the world a better place to live in?”

“Shut up. You don’t have the brains to argue philosophy or make policy. All you were was a foot soldier. And a not a very good one at that. Give me the key.”

“I don’t have it.”

He grinned and put a hand into his pocket. “You’re a fool. Don’t you think we have a backup plan? Don’t you think we have another key?” He brought out a small pocketknife. “I’m going to hug you. That’s all anyone glancing our way is going to see. Hug and kiss and make up. But I’ll put the blade into your heart and keep my mouth over yours until you’re dead.”

He flicked open the blade and pinned her to him, crushing his mouth down over hers. She struggled but could not break free. Where Ben had smelled of clean soap and fresh straw and smooth saddle leather, he reeked of tobacco and whiskey and dirt.

There’s nothing I can do. God, don’t let him set off the bomb. Never mind me. Don’t let him hurt the others.

She could the feel the point of the blade pierce her dress and press into her skin. It would be fast. Perhaps she would faint. Or fall asleep after she had bled for a few minutes. She fought him and his arm only grew tighter. Then suddenly it was gone.

She staggered backward into the wall and collapsed, almost passing out. Dark shapes moved back and forth in front of her eyes. She pressed her hands against the wall and got up. The man was at her feet. Unconscious. The case sat on the concrete. She and the man were completely hidden behind the pallets. There was no one else near her.

The man began to groan and move his arms. Her mind whirling, Victoria picked up the case and ran from behind the pallets into the bright sunlight. Todd was where he was supposed to be and Harrison had rejoined him. They both doffed their caps.

“Miss Danforth,” said Todd. “Are you all right?”

She sprang into the coach, her breath rushing in and out rapidly. “Get me home, please. And let’s not take our time. I need to be back at Ashton Park.”

“Miss Danforth—”

“Now, Mr. Turpin. Now, Mr. Harrison.”

She clutched the case against her chest where her dress had a small tear and there was a pinprick of blood. She scarcely noticed the land they drove through. At the manor she thanked them and walked off into the ash trees carrying the suitcase. When she reached the cliff she glanced down at the sea boiling against its foot. It was high tide. She flung the case as far as she could out into the ocean. It bobbed on the surface a few moments, carried forward by the whitecaps. Then it sank.