Ashton Park (59 page)

“The IRA killed him—”

“A man named Brynn O’Shea and his squad.”

“And they let you walk away?”

“He admired Father’s politics. And he knew Shannon.” He put a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “He wanted O’Casey more than he wanted a British soldier.”

She put her hand on his. “God save Ireland. I feel my baby’s safe now. Thank you, Robbie Danforth.”

He squatted and took her in his arms. She began to weep, her shoulders and back shaking with her sobs. He kissed her and held her closer.

“It’s all right. Go on as much as you like. Go on as much as you like, Catherine Moore. But it’s peace to you and your child now, Cath. Peace.”

The women finally had their trip to Belfast. There they gathered Catherine’s and Albert’s things and put the house up for sale. Robbie and Shannon said goodbye and took ship from Liverpool to Palestine. Catherine refused to be kept back from the dockside parting despite a heavy rain shower, and her and her brother’s eyes remained on one another until the boat was gone.

The baby was born on Good Friday, and Sir William declared an early celebration of Christ’s resurrection by having the black crepe taken down and replaced with daffodils and the windows opened to the light. Mrs. Longstaff quickly put aside the simple fare Sir William demanded and cooked up a goose and ham, to everyone’s delight including his.

On Sunday morning when everyone thought she was in bed Catherine slipped out of the house and headed down to the family cemetery, her baby bundled in thick blankets. Sun was beginning to burn off the haze from the damp grasses. Todd Turpin and Harrison were standing by the front steps to the manor and tipped their hats to her.

“Now, do you see, love?” She held the child toward Albert’s headstone. “Not the girl for the Danforths and Moores. Not yet. But a man. A good strong man for you. See how perfect he is? He’s got you and me in him. You can see that, can’t you?” She brought the child back to her chest. “Sean Moore. Sean Albert Moore. What do you think of that? Isn’t that fine? Irish and English. A beautiful name. He’ll have your fight. You’ll see. Your courage. You’ll never have cause to be ashamed.”

The sun made its way through the treetops and robins took flight from branch to branch.

“I do love you,” she said.

May 1923

Charlotte Danforth had never been to London in her life. The cab dropped her off in front of the Houses of Parliament and she stared up at the Gothic towers and Big Ben as if she were a tourist from another country. Placing Owen in the stroller she had brought with her, she walked around the buildings until she found the public entrance at the west end that Edward had told her about. She entered the central lobby and was overwhelmed by the ornate ceiling and chandeliers and statues.

“Look at all this, Owen,” she said, gazing about her. “Isn’t it something, darling?”

At first the lobby was empty but then she saw her husband approaching along a corridor. Owen reached out his arms to him and began to laugh. Edward kissed his wife and scooped up the boy.

“So you both made it here safely.” Edward hugged his son and kissed him on the cheek. “How was the flight?”

“Marvelous. Owen didn’t fuss. The sky was as blue as—”

“Your eyes?” Edward glanced quickly about him. Seeing the lobby was still empty he drew Charlotte to him with one arm and kissed her with so much strength he pulled her up on the toes of her shoes. Her cheeks were flushed when he let her go.

“I…I’m surprised you dared in this place.”

“I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“I know but—”

“I shall do it again.”

She stepped back and thrust out her hands. “No, Edward, don’t do anything mad. We’re not at the hotel in Canada anymore.”

“It’s almost as fancy.”

“Oh, far more fancy. But some person will come in off the streets or from one of the Houses any moment.”

Edward’s eyes glittered. “They won’t, my beauty. There’s a great fuss in both Houses today. I just came from the Strangers’ Gallery in the Commons. The prime minister resigned on Sunday. It appears Stanley Baldwin will take his place today.”

“What? Mr. Law resigned? Whatever for?”

“Why, to keep everyone in their seats and out of the lobby here.” One arm still held Owen while with the other he swept her off her feet and kissed her deeply again. She tried to push away but finally wrapped her arms around him and responded to his kiss with just as much energy and strength.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, catching his breath before kissing her again.

She laughed and pretended to beat him with her fists. “Stop it. You’re confusing Owen.”

Owen tangled his fingers in his mother’s glossy black hair while his father kissed it.

“Law was feeling poorly all through April and May,” said Edward. “So he’s stepped aside. Once Baldwin takes over, Buchanan is gone. He was Law’s personal assistant.”

“Is that why you’re so perky?”

“Not at all. The papers Father put forward in committee and the speeches he made in the House showed he was far better informed about Scottish agricultural affairs than the prime minister was. Buchanan was already losing favor. I’ve been perky for some time. The sight of you made my kettle boil over, that’s all.”

She patted him on the back. “Right. There’s a crowd coming along the corridor.”

Edward broke away and gave Owen to Charlotte after a quick kiss on his head. “I see. I expect they’re breaking for lunch.” He put his hands behind his back. “That’s Buchanan in front.”

“Oh. He is tall, isn’t he? But not ugly.”

“Not ugly on the outside, you mean.”

“I did mean that.”

“Hmm. There’s his lady friend to greet him. I see her in the lobby every day.”

Charlotte squinted. “Who is it, do you know?”

“Buchanan is not in the habit of introducing any of his friends to me, my dear.”

But after Buchanan had kissed the lady’s hand and tucked her arm under his the pair of them approached Edward and Charlotte. Tanner Buchanan had his long dark hair pulled back in 1700s style and fastened with a silver clasp that was a Celtic knot—Charlotte noticed this when he turned his head to speak to his lady companion. As he stood in front of them his shoulders were broad and his eyes gray under thick eyebrows. He nodded to Edward.

“Mister Danforth.”

Edward inclined his head slightly. “Mister Buchanan. May I introduce my wife, Mrs. Charlotte Danforth? This is my son, Owen.”

Buchanan bowed his head and smiled. “An honor, Mrs. Danforth. A handsome boy.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

“My companion,” said Buchanan, “is Lady Hall.”

The woman, who seemed to be about half Buchanan’s height, smiled brightly and extended her hand. “My name’s Kate. I’m very pleased to meet you both. Tanner calls you his worthy opponent, Mr. Danforth.”

“Among other things I’m sure, Lady Hall.” He took her hand.

“Hello,” said Charlotte. “You’re American, Lady Hall?”

“Kate. Yes, I’m from Natchez in Mississippi originally. But Mum married an Englishman, Lord Hall, and now here I am.”

“Well, I’m Char from Lancashire. How do you do?”

“Baldwin’s in, Danforth.”

Edward raised his eyebrows. “Is he?”

“And I’m out.”

“Sorry to hear it.”

“Will you two ladies excuse us a moment?” Buchanan walked several feet away as men filled the lobby, some from the visitors’ galleries, some from the House of Commons, some from the House of Lords. “You’re not rid of me so easily, Danforth.”

“I didn’t think we were.”

“I’ll run for office. There’s bound to be an election in a year or less. Baldwin will want a majority. Not a coalition or a minority government. I mean to get my seat.”

“So do I.”

“I’ll tear you apart in debate.”

“I take it you won’t be running for the Tory Party then?”

A thin smile came to Buchanan’s lips. “Not any party the Danforths are members of, you can be sure. I’ll run for Labor.”

“All the best then.”

Buchanan gripped Edward’s arm. “I mean to have my son. I mean to have him by my side just as you have yours.”

“Surely that is a matter between you and the Scarboroughs. Though I do not think you will have much luck there.”

Buchanan’s eyes flamed. “I know that Caroline and Charles spend a great deal of time at Ashton Park.”

“They are family friends.”

“I’ll have him back. And if your brother Kipp stands in my way again I shall lay him low, be sure of it.”

“Will you? Last time you two met I understand he was the one left standing.”

“That won’t happen again.”

“We’ll see. Good day, Buchanan. I expect we won’t have you here at Westminster again for quite some time then?”

“Oh, I’ll be here, Danforth. Cementing my alliances. Rallying my support. One day you may see me the first man in the kingdom. Then what will you do?”

Edward walked back to his wife and Lady Hall. He gave the American lady a short bow. “May I wish you well until our paths cross again, Lady Hall?”

She extended her hand once more. “Oh, I’m positive they will. Tanner assures me we shall see a lot more of you two in the future.”

Charlotte smiled. “I will look forward to that then, Kate.”

Buchanan took Lady Hall’s arm under his. “Good day to you both.”

Edward had his hands behind his back. “Until we cross swords, Buchanan.”

Charlotte slapped him lightly on the arm after the couple had left. “They couldn’t have been friendlier. Why did you have to say that?”

“No damage done. She sees it merely as a quip.”

“And is it?”

“For my part? No.”

“Edward—”

“And not for Buchanan’s part either.”

Sir William came striding across the lobby through the throng of bodies. “Ah, Charlotte, my dear, how splendid! How was your flight down?” He took Owen from her arms. “How are you, young man?” The boy looked carefully at Sir William and then smiled and put a handful of fingers on his nose.

“It’s so good to see you, sir,” said Charlotte with a smile as he kissed her cheek.

“I hear Baldwin’s in, father,” spoke up Edward.

“Indeed he is.” He lifted Owen high in his arms. “But I bear greater tidings.”

“What’s that?” asked Edward.

“You will recall the anti-treaty forces called for a ceasefire in the civil war at the end of April?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I have a reliable report, confidential naturally, that the anti-treaty forces are laying down their arms tomorrow. Tomorrow, praise God, the twenty-fourth of May, Queen Victoria’s birthday. The slaughter’s done. See here.” He held Owen with one hand and dug into his coat pocket with the other, eventually producing a sheet of paper that he unfolded. “Frank Aiken, the IRA Chief of Staff, is going to call upon his men to dump arms—not surrender them, mind, but at least to stop the fight after dumping them. And that’s tomorrow. Éamon de Valera is going to support Aiken’s order. I have his statement. Not a word of this to anyone. I will speak on behalf of this in the Commons once it is public knowledge.”

Edward took the paper his father offered him.

Soldiers of the Republic. Legion of the Rearguard: The Republic can no longer be defended successfully by your arms. Further sacrifice of life would now be in vain and the continuance of the struggle in arms unwise in the national interest and prejudicial to the future of our cause. Military victory must be allowed to rest for the moment with those who have destroyed the Republic.

Éamon de Valera