Ashton Park (56 page)

“With me? Your rival for Kipp’s affections?” Caroline smiled and shook her head. “You are so different. This is all so strange. And Kipp just over there by the fireplace.”

“So you will come? We need you. Most of all, I need you, my dear.”

“You’re not like any woman I’ve ever known. Yes, I’ll come. Of course, I’ll come. Who can say no to a person who puts things the way you put them?”

Robbie was standing by himself, still near the fire, when Harrison and Todd Turpin and Tavy brought in a six-foot deadfall trimmed of its branches and rolled it into the flames. Sparks flew and all the men danced back except Robbie.

“You’ll not want to get a burn, sir,” warned Tavy.

“I don’t run much anymore, Tavy,” responded Robbie. “Been through too much. Seen too many things.”

He watched the ash log erupt into yellow heat. A hand touched his back. He turned to see a young officer wearing the same uniform he was. The officer grinned and saluted.

“How are you, sir? Major Mickey Gilfillan reporting for duty.”

“Major Mickey—” Solemn as he felt and solemn as the day was, Robbie smiled and pumped the man’s hand vigorously. “How in heaven’s name did you get to be a major, Mickey Gilfillan?”

“Why, I just bowed and scraped to the same generals you always did, Robbie, and here I am.”

“God bless you, what brings you here, Mickey?”

The smile dropped from Mickey’s face. “I’m here to pay my respects, sir. I’m very sorry. Some of the old boys wanted to be remembered to you as well. I have a card for your sister signed by all of them. Albert was a brave man, sir. A grand Irishman and a fine Ulsterman.”

“Thank you, Mickey. It will be a hard go for Catherine in the days to come. A card from those who thought well of Albert will help out, I’m certain of it. Shall I give her the card?”

“Oh, no, I’ll do that myself, sir, in a moment. I did want to say hello. It’s been years.”

“Yes. Ever since Jack O’Casey and my on-the-spot marriage to Shannon and our midnight passage from Dublin to Liverpool.”

“Aye. I’m glad to see you’ve kept yourself fit, sir. I hear you’ve been assigned to Jerusalem.”

“I have. It has the makings of another Ireland, I’m afraid, unless the people can learn to work together. Well, it may be that things will sort themselves out just as I pray they will in Ireland.”

“We just shipped out of Ireland on the sixth, sir. Left all our guns and artillery with the Free State forces.”

“Hmm.”

“God save Ireland, sir. I pray she has a brave future.”

“I do as well, Mickey. There’s no more I can do for her now but pray.”

Mickey did not respond. Robbie noticed he was practically standing at attention. He put the mug of coffee he’d been holding on the mantle of the fireplace and faced Mickey squarely.

“Right. What is it, Gilfillan? What’s on your mind today?”

Mickey glanced about to be sure they were alone. “We know who murdered Albert Moore, sir.”

Robbie felt the coldness in his head and chest. “Go on.”

“It wasn’t the IRA. It was an assassination squad called the Crew. Led by Jack O’Casey. We know O’Casey was in on the ambush. We know he pulled the trigger.”

“I see. Let the Ulstermen deal with him then. Let the Royal Ulster Constabulary track him down and hang him.”

“Oh, they’re hunting him, sir. Perhaps they’ll get him. But there’s something else you should know.”

“What’s that?”

“When the Crew claimed responsibility there was a personal message.”

“From who?”

“From O’Casey to you. He wrote,
How does it feel to be one brother less? And I’m just starting, Englishman.
”

The coldness reached down into Robbie’s stomach and out into the tips of his fingers. “Did you read this for yourself?”

“I did, sir. I have the note here.”

He handed it to Robbie. Robbie glanced over it and put it in his pocket. “What do you want from me, Mickey?”

“O’Casey’s a loose cannon as far as the IRA are concerned, sir. No one would be surprised if he started his own military unit and opposed both the republicans and the Free State men. He has a bone to pick with those who support the treaty and those who are against it.”

“So?”

“Even by the cruel standards of the civil war he’s brutal, sir. Worse than he was during the War of Independence. They say he’s tortured and murdered two IRA lads and a couple of men from the pro-treaty army. Both sides are hunting him. Whatever course the new Ireland takes, it’s better off without the likes of him.”

Robbie turned away. “Let the Irish deal with the Irish.”

Mickey was silent a moment. “The RUC, the Royal Ulster Constabulary, well, they apprehended a member of the Crew yesterday, sir. He says O’Casey’s out to get your kin, for sure. No mistake.”

“He said what they wanted to hear. The RUC were probably beating him.”

“This was in his shoe.”

Robbie turned back and reluctantly took the slip of paper. On it were written the names of his brothers and brothers-in-law as well as their wives and his sisters. And their children. Underneath the names was written Ashton Park Estate, Lancashire. The writing was the same as the writing used in the note that claimed responsibility for the killing of Albert Moore.

A sudden moan, quiet as it was, went through the room like a black wind. Robbie and Mickey looked to the far end of the Great Hall to see that Catherine had collapsed into the arms of Sir William. He struggled to keep her off the floor. Kipp and Ben and Edward came running.

“We must get her up to her room,” they heard Sir William say. “The day has broken her heart. I fear for her and the baby.”

Robbie looked back at Mickey, his eyes turning to stone. “Who will help me?”

“It’s unauthorized, of course. You and I, sir. No one else. Completely off the books. Just like the last time we went after O’Casey. Others are aware of what’s going on but you’ll get no help from the IRA or Free State. They’ll not come after you if you get him. But they’ll not lift a finger to point you in the right direction either.”

“It’s not my war, Mickey.”

“Right enough it’s not, sir. Ireland will sort it out. But you’re not fighting Ireland, sir. You’re fighting a murderer.”

Robbie watched them carry his sister up the staircase. It struck him that four of the men bearing Catherine to her room had been pallbearers that day for her husband—Edward, Ben, Kipp, and Michael. A coal leaped onto the floor, glowing a bright red. He nudged it back toward the fire with the toe of his boot.

“When?” he asked.

“Just say the word,” replied Mickey, “and it’s a go.”

“We’ll take a ship from Liverpool to the Isle of Man first.” He was still prodding the hot coal. “Then get a boat for Belfast.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You don’t have to do this with me, Mickey.”

“Oh, I do, sir. Yes, I do. Albert and I are both Ulstermen.” He saluted. “God bless you, sir, on this hard day.”

Robbie straightened and returned the salute. “Thank you, Mickey.”

“How is she?”

Emma was just closing the door to Catherine’s bedroom when Jeremiah came down the hall. “She’s resting. Mum’s with her and I decided to let the two of them be. Where are the boys?”

“Your father slipped out the back with them. The four are taking Gladstone and Wellington for a walk.”

“That’s good.”

“And how are you, Em?”

“Considering the sort of day it is, I’m well enough.” She gazed up at his dark eyes. His robe was gone and he only wore his black suit with its white clerical collar. “I’m not about to jump off a cliff and curse God, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve made my choice. Just like you said I should.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m going to open the windows and let in more air. I’m going to draw the curtains and let in more light. That’s what God has put in me to do. That’s what I want to believe anyways.”

He smiled. “That’s beautiful to hear on a day that has so little beauty to it.”

She grasped his hand and her grip was hard. “Only…I wish…in one part of me—that there would be justice—for what has been done to Albert…even vengeance…”

“That is not for us, Em.
Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord.
It’s in God’s hands.”

“Murder is a crime. A sin.”

“So it is.”

“You said there would be judges. That God would appoint judges.”

“It’s up to God to appoint them. Not you or me.”

“And how does he do that, Jeremiah? He put it in me to open the windows of my soul as far as possible. What does he put in the heart of those who must pass judgment?”

Jeremiah looked down at the floor and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

January 1923

Shannon lifted her head from the pillow. There was a tapping of sleet and ice on the window of the Rose Room. It had not been that—something else had woken her. She reached over to touch Robbie in the dark. He was not there.

“It’s all right.” Robbie’s voice. “I was just about to wake you.”

“What’s going on? What time is it?”

“It’s three. You need to go back to sleep after I’m gone. I hope you can.” She felt the weight of his body as he sat beside her on the bed. “I’m going to switch on the lamp. All right?”

“I’ve got my eyes closed.”

She sensed the brightness through her eyelids, waited a moment, and opened her eyes, blinking. Robbie put an arm around her. He was dressed in the rough and simple gear of a groundskeeper. The clothes reminded her of Harrison but the flat tweed cap made her think of Todd Turpin.

“What’s happening?” she asked again.

“I’m going over to Ireland. There’s something I have to do.”

“Ireland? But the British army have left.”

“I’m not going as British army.”

She shot up to a sitting position. “What are you doing, Robert Danforth? They’ll shoot you in Ireland.”

“Here’s a list. It’s a kill list. A gunman was carrying it. Look it over.”

Shannon read the names of her sisters-in-law and brothers-in-law and their children. “Oh Robbie! Who wrote this?”

“Jack O’Casey.”

Her face whitened and the skin tightened over her cheekbones. “No.”

“He was the one that killed Albert. His group claimed responsibility.”

“What group?”

“The Crew. He’s gone wild, Shannon. He’s even killed IRA men. They’re hunting him.”

“Then let the IRA deal with it.”

“So far he’s eluded them.”

“Give them time.”

“We don’t have time.” He handed the other note to her. “I’ve told Harrison to go about with that American pistol of his in his pocket. Todd’s old but he’s sharp as a tack and you’ll see him toting a shotgun about—he’ll say it’s to deal with foxes that are after the sheep.”

“O’Casey wants revenge.” She looked up from the note. “Have you only told Harrison and Todd?”

“All the men know. My brothers. My sisters’ husbands. Dad. Tavy. Let’s leave it at that.”

“I…I don’t know what to say. I realize someone has to do something. I just don’t want it to be you.”

“O’Casey killed Albert because Albert wanted Ulster to stay out of an Irish republic. But he also killed him because he was my brother-in-law and he was the easiest one to reach.”

“But—you’d have to kill his entire gang. They probably all have the list. How many are there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Robbie—”

“I can’t sit here, Shannon. And we can’t return to Jerusalem until this is settled.” He took her hand and interlaced his fingers through hers. “I had mercy on him once. I can’t this time. You know that.”

“He won’t have mercy on you if he catches you over there.”

“And he won’t have mercy on my family if he catches any of you here.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I love you. I have to defend my family.”

“Many an Irishwoman’s heard those words before, believe me.”

“Shall I stay then?”

She shook her head slowly. “You can’t.” Suddenly she seized him in her arms. “Oh, God go with you, love. You must come back to me, Robbie Danforth. I shall never forgive you if you choose an Irish grave over my kisses and my bed. I want to bear your sons and daughters. I want us to live to a hundred. Promise me.”

“Shannon—”

“I don’t care how impossible it is. Promise me. Say it.”

He hugged her back and kissed her on the lips. “I promise.” Then he stood up, gently removing her arms. “Mickey Gilfillan is waiting for me at the Castle. He helped me with O’Casey the first time. We make a good team. I’ll be back soon.” He turned off the lamp and moved across the room in the dark. The door opened and closed.

Shannon drew her knees to her chest. She prayed and tried not to think.