Ashton Park
Authors: Murray Pura
HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
All Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
Cover by Garborg Design Works, Savage, Minnesota
Cover photos © Chris Garborg; iStockphoto / Delius
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
ASHTON PARK
Book 1 of The Danforths of Lancashire series
Copyright © 2013 by Murray Pura
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Pura, Murray
Ashton Park / Murray Pura.
p. cm.—(The Danforths of Lancashire; bk. 1)
ISBN 978-0-7369-5285-9 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-7369-5286-6 (eBook)
1. Aristocracy (social classes)—England—History—20th century—Fiction. 2. Social classes—England—History—20th century—Fiction. 3. World War, 1914-1918—England—Fiction. 4. Baptists—England—Fiction. 5. Lancashire (England)—Fiction 6. Domestic fiction. I. Title.
PR9199.4.P87A88 2013
813’.6—dc23
2012026144
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.
For my sister June, who taught me my letters, with all my love.
HE
C
HARACTERS
Sir William Danforth
—husband to Lady Elizabeth, father, Member of Parliament (MP), and master of Ashton Park estate
Lady Elizabeth Danforth
—wife to Sir William and mother to the seven Danforth children
Sir Arthur
—Lady Elizabeth’s father
Lady Grace
—Sir William’s mother
Aunt Holly
—Sir William’s younger sister
Edward Danforth
—eldest son, Royal Navy
Kipp Danforth
—son, Royal Air Force
Robbie Danforth
—youngest son, British Army
Emma (Danforth) Sweet
—eldest daughter and wife of Reverend Jeremiah Sweet
Catherine (Danforth) Moore
—daughter and wife of Albert Moore
Elizabeth (Libby) Danforth
—daughter
Victoria Danforth
—youngest daughter
Mr. and Mrs. Seabrooke
—managers of the household staff
Tavy
—butler
Mrs. Longstaff
—head cook
Norah Cole
—maid
Harrison
—groundskeeper
Todd Turpin
—assistant groundskeeper
Skitt
—assistant groundskeeper and sheepherder
Ben Whitecross
—groom and coach driver
Tanner Buchanan
—groundskeeper at Danforth hunting lodge in Scotland
Lord Francis Scarborough
—wealthy aristocrat
Lady Madeleine Scarborough
—his wife
Lady Caroline Scarborough
—daughter of Lord and Lady Scarborough
Reverend Jeremiah Sweet
—Anglican minister, husband to Emma
Albert Moore
—husband of Catherine and manager of Danforth shipyards in Belfast
Michael Woodhaven IV
—American pilot from wealthy family
Charlotte Squire
—maid
Christelle Cevennes
—waitress at café in France
Shannon Dungarvan
—young woman from Dublin
Pilots of Kipp Danforth’s squadron in France
Bobby Scott
Kent Wales
Ian Hannam
Teddy Irving
Gladstone and Wellington
—the Danforth German shepherds
1
1916
April 1916
“Go, girl, go!”
Victoria Danforth leaned into her horse’s neck as it broke out of the forest and drove toward the sea cliff at full gallop.
“Come on, Robin! The man is gaining!”
A green ribbon flew from Victoria’s head and her long auburn hair burst loose. She struck the sorrel’s flanks with the heels of her black leather boots.
“Give me more, my girl, just a bit more!”
The shining sea drew closer and closer. A wind that carried the bite of salt water stung Victoria’s nostrils. Face flushed by the wild ride, eyes glittering like a cat’s, she cried out a final time.
“All you’ve got, my beauty!”
And then she hauled back on the reins, turned the mare’s head to the left, sprang from the saddle, and hit the ground boots-first with a shout. The horse dug in all its hooves and tossed up mud and stone and grass. The cliff edge was only a few yards away when she stopped.
“Good, girl, that was lovely, that was grand!” Victoria stroked the animal’s neck and mane. Both horse and rider were panting. “What a gorgeous view! I’ll never tire of it.”
The brisk ocean breeze pushed back the auburn hair from Victoria’s face, bringing its deep red color out to the light, then turning it over and bringing back its rich browns. It plucked at her forest green riding coat, her white blouse, and the green silk scarf at her throat. The scarf brought out the emerald fire in her eyes.
“Miss Victoria,” came a man’s voice.
She had closed her eyes to better dream of sailing on a ship across the Atlantic to America or Canada.
There is land no white man has ever seen,
her brother Edward the naval officer had told her once.
Mountains where no man or woman has ever placed a foot. Animals that are the stuff of dreams.
“Miss Victoria.” The voice was more insistent.
“Mmm?”
“If ye want to be there to greet your father, we must head back. Even though he’s using the coach he’ll still be at the manor house inside a quarter hour. The train would have arrived at Lime Street Station in Liverpool well over an hour ago.”
Victoria shook her head and laughed. “Old Todd Turpin, my highwayman, you are so particular about clocks and minutes. Is that because your great-great-grandfather’s blood runs in your veins and you know where every coach is on any road at any given minute?”
Todd, a short and slender man of sixty with a flat tweed cap who sat astride a black gelding, flushed. “I’m not related to Dick Turpin. I told ye that before.”
“Just as your mate Brendan Cook is not related to the famous sea captain who also met an untimely end. Though Captain Cook was eaten, while Dick Turpin was merely hanged.”
“Sure, your mother Lady Elizabeth shouldn’t like to hear ye talking like this.”
“Well, she’s not here, is she? Or are you her spy as well as my guardian?”
Todd’s face flushed a deeper red. “I’m no spy neither.”
Victoria gave him a sudden savage glare. “Let us hope not, Old Todd Turpin, or I should have to challenge you to a duel. And you know how quick I am with a blade.” Seeing the startled look that sprang onto his face she laughed again, tossing her hair. “Oh, Todd, when will you ever get to know who I am? I wouldn’t hurt a finger on your hand. You’ve served our family since I was eleven, after all.”
“Well, but ye are not eleven anymore, are ye, Miss?”
Victoria swept up into her saddle, her long hair falling about her shoulders as she adjusted her black riding skirt and leather boots. “I may be eighteen but the eleven-year-old is still in there. Race you to Ashton Park.”
She leaned forward and whistled softly in her mare’s ear. The horse bolted forward, away from the sea cliff and down the path leading back into the forest of tall ash trees. Todd rolled his eyes and muttered, “Ah, dear Lord,” and dug his heels into his gelding’s sides, urging it after the mare. He knew he would never catch Victoria but at least he could keep her in sight.
The soaring ash trees, some two hundred feet high and hundreds of years old, flashed past on either side of Victoria as she and Robin hurtled along the track. She meant to get altogether out of sight of Todd Turpin, who, she was certain, reported to her mother all her goings-on, despite his protests to the contrary. Bending over the mare’s neck, she took a different path and galloped full out over a trail she could have ridden with her eyes closed. It was a shortcut she was certain Todd had never used.