Ashton Park (47 page)

“There’s no denying I fired the shot that forced them to remove his arm. Bishop’s last call did not put Lord Scarborough out of harm’s way yet.”

Sir William stood up and went to the closet. Finding one of his top hats he reached inside for a pair of black silk gloves. He pulled one onto his left hand and did not put on the other.

“I shot him with the left hand, Harrison. I shall wear this black glove to remind me of that. Eating. Sleeping. In the House. At Ashton Park. I shall remove it the day I deem Lord Scarborough has fully recovered.”

“Sir—”

Sir William looked at Harrison but stared right through him. “If he does not recover I shall wear it for the rest of my days. To remind myself how I took another’s life and, by so doing, took my grandson’s life at the same time.”

Emma tucked Billy into bed after the other two boys. Then she switched off the lamp and told them a story in the dark. The deep quiet told her the three of them had fallen asleep. She stayed in her chair a few more minutes. Finally she got up and drew aside a curtain to look out over the lawn and the ash trees. There was no moon. She leaned her head against the windowpane.

Lord. I prayed my heart out for Victoria and her son. Look, here are the three young men You blessed me with—why couldn’t You have blessed her as well? What has she done wrong? What have I done wrong that You would not hear my prayers? Now I must go back to being a minister’s wife and help my husband put faith in the lives of others. How can I do that when my heart is so barren? It feels like it has been burned over and that now it is nothing more than a scorched and blackened field where nothing can grow.

Yes, You spared her life—just. Why could You not spare her son’s? Why could You not spare me? For now I have no desire to return to Ribchester and the church there. No desire to play the role of the clergyman’s wife. No will to put up a brave front. You have visited Ashton Park with sudden death. And now once begun, I fear You will not leave off until the grass by the chapel is filled with graves that I and others could not prevent from being filled. I wish You would stay Your hand. But You are God and I am not, and You no longer listen to me.

December 1921

Dear Sir William:

I write to tell you that the doctors feel I have almost reached the stage of full recovery. It has been difficult learning to write with my left hand but you see I have mastered it pretty well. I thank you for your prayers and your many kindnesses, which have been much appreciated by Lady Scarborough and myself. We hope to visit Ashton Park in the new year and will let you know our plans once the doctors agree it is safe for me to travel.

I trust you and your wife and children are in good health. We are doing splendidly here and Caroline and the boy are getting along very well at our villa south of Lisbon. Now that I am much improved Lady Scarborough will be embarking later this week for Portugal. She intends to stay with Caroline and young Charles until Easter
.

Most sincerely, I remain,
Lord Francis Scarborough

Lady Elizabeth sat in her chair in the library and read the note a second time. “It’s wonderful news. You’d never know you two had quarreled, let alone shot at each other.” She looked up at her husband, who stood with his hands clasped behind his back, staring out of the tall library windows at the brown leaves that rushed past with the November wind. “Will you not feel free to remove the black glove now? There is much gossip about it among the servants, Tavy and Norah tell me.”

Sir William did not reply to her question about the glove. “You know I must return to Westminster this afternoon. Kipp has deliveries to make in Manchester and will come west to collect me after lunch.”

“I am aware of that.”

“The bloodshed in Ireland maddens me. We have had meeting after meeting with the delegates from the
Dail Eireann
, the Irish Parliament. This evening I need to attend one of the special committees.”

“You were hopeful last week a treaty might be signed before Christmas.”

“I still am. But it can’t come soon enough. Thirty people were killed in Belfast this week. I fear for Albert and Catherine. And that is only Belfast. Three years of violence have solved nothing.” He brought his left hand out from behind his back and stared at the glove covering it. “Violence begets violence.”

“William. Stop torturing yourself over that. Lord Scarborough was in such a temper that nothing less than a duel would do. You know what his plans were had you not responded to his challenge. He is hale and hearty and acts as if the incident never occurred. Why can you not do the same?”

“I have—”

“Why can you not remove that glove? I only see your left hand when you wash up. It is pale as a gull feather compared to the right one now.”

“I am committed to seeing the treaty signed. I can tell you what you must not tell anyone else—I believe they will consent to dominion status such as Canada enjoys.”

“They don’t insist on full independence?”

“They see it as something to be achieved later on. This is the approach I have always argued for. A small step now, a larger step later. They become a self-governing state within the British Empire and the king is their head.”

“Why, that’s marvelous.”

Sir William turned from the window. “It would be marvelous if all the Irish would agree to it. I don’t know if that will be the case. Still we must try. Perhaps Michael Collins has enough authority to sway all Ireland to his side. He is for the dominion status. The six northeastern counties will not be party to this, however. Albert will have what he has always wanted—a Northern Ireland that remains fully connected to Britain with Belfast as its capital.”

Lady Elizabeth stood up and took his right hand, the hand without the glove. “You look so troubled. Why not thank God, William? He has put you in a position where you have done as much as any to bring about this peace. The guns in France fell silent in nineteen-eighteen. Now the guns of Ireland will fall silent soon. You are helping to save hundreds of lives.”

“I wish to. I pray to. But there are bound to be those who will oppose the treaty, the nationalists who will not go along with Collins. You remember what Robbie and Shannon wrote in their last letter from Palestine. They’re convinced there will be fresh fighting among the Irish themselves if I cannot help draft the best treaty possible.”

“You put too much on your shoulders. People like Jack O’Casey will never be satisfied unless they become the rulers of Ireland. You can never appease such men.” She looked into his eyes. “What becomes of prisoners like him?”

“He will be released if he agrees to the terms of the treaty.”

“Just like that?”

“I’m afraid so.”

She grasped his gloved hand. “And does this come off if a treaty is signed?”

“No. The glove has nothing to do with the Irish treaty.”

“Then when will you remove it if Lord Scarborough’s health is not a good enough reason?”

“That is up to God.”

“God? It’s up to God now? What has to happen that is up to God?”

Victoria folded her arms over her chest and hunched up her shoulders under one of her husband’s old fleece-lined flying jackets. The leather handled the scattered snowflakes and the fleece handled the cold. A leather cap that was lined in the same way covered her head and flaps covered her ears. She thought she looked ridiculous but didn’t care. Staying warm was the thing.

Ben’s plane was coming down on the brown grass field that was home to the South England Air Service. He was finishing up a courier run between London and Coventry only a few days before Christmas. The SPAD touched, bounced twice, then rolled to a stop. He jumped out and came toward her, taking her in his arms.

“Look at you!” He kissed her. “Rosy cheeks. Bright red lips. Flashing eyes. And not a dab of makeup. Does the cold weather bring out the best in you?”

“No. You bring out the best in me. The cold weather just makes me play dress-up with your old clothes.”

“Are you warm enough then?”

“Not really.”

“So why aren’t you back at the house waiting? I’d only be another half hour.”

“I couldn’t wait that long.”

“A half hour? You’re acting like we’re on a second honeymoon.”

She placed gloved hands on both sides of his face. “It is a second honeymoon. I saw Dr. Honeycutt today. Ben…we have another child, another boy, alive inside me.”

“What?” Ben’s face opened with surprise and delight, a sudden smile tugging at his lips and eyes. “Is he sure?”

“Yes, he’s sure. Merry Christmas, love.”

Ben hugged her with a burst of strength, laughed, kissed her, and laughed again. “Is that why all the color in your face?”

“That’s part of it. Are you happy?”

“Of course I’m happy. I never thought…I didn’t know…after we lost—”

“It’s all right. We were both scared of trying again. Now I’m even more scared. But I’m happier than I am scared.”

The snowflakes thickened and Ben wrapped his arms more closely around her. “I’ll get the lads to put the plane in the hangar. The mother here I’m getting home. Did you bring the motorcar?”

“I walked.”

“You did not.”

“I did, actually.”

“You can’t walk. You need to sit in the hut and wait for me to bring it round.”

“I won’t. The baby has a better chance if I’m healthy. I’m not made of bone china, love. Hold me tight so the wind doesn’t carry me off to France and I’ll be fine.”

They dropped by the hut with its fire and Ben asked two of his helpers to put the plane away for the day. Kipp and Christelle had flown to Liverpool earlier and were settled at Ashton Park now for Christmas. With one arm strong around her he began to walk her along the road into the village.

He laughed. “Won’t your mum and dad be caught off guard!”

“They really will. They’ve been so busy thinking about Christelle’s baby coming next March and Char’s coming next June in Canada they haven’t thought about me at all. And father’s been so excited about the treaty signing and its passing in Parliament—”

“The news of you bearing another child will throw them for a loop. When is the baby due?”

“May.”

“How do you know it’s a boy?”

“It is. Believe me, it is.”

“I won’t argue with the mother. Look, we’ll head for Ashton Park right after my flight tomorrow. I have some special deliveries we’ve been paid handsomely to take care of before Christmas Day, and once that’s done we’re off.”

“If it socks in?”

“It won’t.”

She pinched his arm. “If it does.”

“I suppose we’ll make a cozy home until it clears. If it won’t clear then we’re off to Liverpool by train.”

“Even if you lose the fees?”

“We’ll make up the fees. It’s more important we get you to the estate. And I have news too. Not as big as your news but—”

Snowflakes flew into her face like feathers as she lifted her face away from his chest to look at him. “What news?”

“We’ve decided to expand. We’re bringing some other fliers in to handle the south while Kipp and Michael and I start up another airstrip in the north. Right by Ashton Park.”