Ashton Park (46 page)

“I shall match Lord Scarborough shot for shot.”

Sir William listened to the birds waking up and calling to each other and to the sky. The Strunk was not a swift stream, yet he heard its slow passage between the banks clearly—the gurgling, the splashes…he even heard the rise of fish.

“Gentlemen.” Bishop’s face gleamed amber and gold. “I’ll ask you to stand by me here. Sir William, if you would face south, Lord Scarborough, if you would look to the north, please.”

Sir William clapped Harrison on the shoulder. “There it is. Thank you for your help in all this. If things should go ill for me, care for my family and Ashton Park in the same noble fashion you always have.”

“I will, sir.”

Sir William walked up to Bishop. Lord Scarborough gave him a slight bow and Sir William returned the bow. Then they stood back to back. Sun broke over apple orchard and stream and the fields of bright-green grass.

“We have dawn,” said Bishop crisply. “I begin the count. Do not turn and fire until I reach twenty, if you please. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.”

The two men began to stride away from each other, each holding their revolver up at their chest, one finger on the trigger guard.

“Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.”

The sun shone on the left side of Sir William’s face. The warmth felt unusually strong to him and the light unusually bright. There was nothing in his mind but the steps he was taking, the scent of damp grass, the roll of the stream, and the gun at his chest.

“Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty.”

Lord Scarborough wheeled and fired, his right arm extended, holding the gun. Sir William turned and felt air move past his head. Lord Scarborough fired a second shot. Bark flew into Sir William’s face from a tree trunk on his left. Then he lifted his hand as if he were a machine, seeing only Lord Scarborough’s figure, and fired three quick shots, thumbing back the hammer automatically each time. One shot clipped the shoulder of Lord Scarborough’s gun arm and made him flinch. The second made him clap a hand to his ear, his right hand still holding the revolver as he slapped it to his head. The third shot threw him back five or six feet, hurling him to the ground. Sir William kept his gun on Lord Scarborough and waited for him to rise. But he did not move.

Bishop knelt by Lord Scarborough’s body. “God help us. You’ve killed him.”

Sir William’s eyes changed and he seemed to come out of a trance. Dropping his revolver he ran to his opponent’s side along with Harrison.

“No. He’s breathing yet.” Sir William tore off the coat and shirtsleeve to look at the wound high on Lord Scarborough’s right shoulder. “The bullet went clear through. But there is dirt and fabric in the hole. And we must stop the blood.” He whipped the tie from his neck and tied it as tightly as he could on the shoulder above the wound. “We must get him to the nearest hospital immediately.”

The three men half-carried and half-dragged Lord Scarborough’s heavy body to the car he and Bishop had been using. They laid him in the backseat but had to bend his legs to make him fit.

“We will follow you.” Sir William took off his jacket and put it over Lord Scarborough’s chest and stomach. “Drive as swiftly as you can.”

“No.” Lord Scarborough raised his head, breathing heavily. “It was a shooting accident…my shooting accident. You were not involved, Danforth. Or your man there. That is my story…and true enough as it goes.”

“We must help you—” Sir William protested.

“You have done enough.” Lord Scarborough gritted his teeth in pain. “If I want you at the hospital I shall have Bishop ring you…now leave us.”

“I cannot.”

“Leave us.” Lord Scarborough was still gripping the revolver and he pointed it at Sir William’s stomach. “I will have my honor, Danforth.”

“Tavy! Tavy!” Emma flew down the hallway. “Mama! Holly! Norah! Victoria’s bleeding—her bedsheets are covered in blood!”

Norah and Tavy were already up and in their uniforms. Tavy phoned the physician and Norah ran to the room with an armload of towels. Holly arrived a moment later in her dressing gown and started placing the towels between Victoria’s legs to staunch the flow of blood. Norah was out and back again with clean blankets, which she placed over Victoria after removing the ones streaked red. Lady Elizabeth rushed in, hair askew and dressing gown barely tied.

“What is it?” She looked at Victoria’s chalk-white face. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s having a miscarriage.” Blood spattered Holly’s face. “We must get the baby out for both their sakes.”

“That is something for the doctor to do.”

“We don’t have time to wait for the doctor! Help me or we will lose them both!” Holly looked around her. “Norah. Get down here and keep her legs apart. I must get my hands up there. Elizabeth. Come here.”

“Is she breathing—?”

“Yes. She is unconscious but she is breathing. Get down here beside me and Norah. If we work together we can save them. Now, Elizabeth.”

Sir William and Harrison drove to the hospital as soon as Bishop phoned them. He met them in the hall outside Lord Scarborough’s room.

“How is he?” asked Sir William.

“They are going to remove his right arm at the shoulder.”

“What?”

“There is too much damage. He wanted to speak with you. Harrison and I will wait out here.”

Sir William stepped into the room. The curtains were drawn. Lord Scarborough turned his head as he lay on the bed.

“Danforth?” The voice was weak.

“Lord Scarborough.”

“Take my hand, sir.”

Sir William gripped Lord Scarborough’s good hand.

“I have my honor, Danforth. We…fought well…jousted with our lances. I lose my arm…for my daughter…I do not mind that. If I should die after the amputation…honor is all I have left to meet my God with.”

“Christ’s sacrifice is sufficient for your soul. Take that with you instead.”

Lord Scarborough grimaced through his beard. “Are you preaching… Danforth?”

“Sound advice. From one Englishman to another.”

“Danforth.” His voice became a rough whisper. “We need not have fought. A telegram reached me from Portugal…last night. Caroline said she was…acting out of spite. It was not Edward…it was the head groundskeeper at the Lodge.”

Sir William went rigid. “What? Buchanan?”

“Steady, Danforth. The issue at hand is…I should have called off the duel as soon as I received…this news. Should have rung you at your flat. I did not. I cannot tell you why…I don’t know why. So I am judged for my treachery. Can your Jesus cover that?”

“His love fills the universe and the entire world of men.”

“Well. I would rather stay…and find out if that is true. I may not… have that choice. Will you pray for me, Sir William?”

“I will. I will, Lord Scarborough. God have mercy on you. On us both.”

“She will live.” Dr. Pittmeadow looked down at Victoria as she slept. Color had slowly begun to return to her cheeks and face. He glanced at Lady Elizabeth, who was slumped in a chair by the bed, holding her daughter’s hand. “She will be able to give birth to another child.”

She did not raise her eyes to his. “Are you sure?”

“I am. I have, unfortunately, seen a great deal of this over the years. She has not been damaged physically, Lady Elizabeth. It will be her emotional scars that need healing. Have you contacted her husband?”

“Ben is coming up by aircraft. He’s in the air now. We will see him in less than an hour.”

“I am glad to hear it. That will help enormously.” He checked his watch. “See that you give her coffee with plenty of sugar. Tea with honey. Sweet biscuits. Oatmeal with dark cane sugar and cream. As much as she will take. I will come by again this evening to check on her.”

Holly had been standing in a corner of the room. She followed him into the hall. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“You did the saving, Miss Holly. If you’d waited for me it would have been a far worse day than it has already been.” He began to walk toward the staircase. “Where will you…ah…bury the boy?”

Holly kept pace beside him. “The grave will be just by the chapel. Generations of Danforths have been buried under the ash trees there. The Church consecrated the ground in the eleventh century.”

“Yes, of course. I expect the little one will be under the earth by the time I return tonight?”

“Yes, Doctor. We’re just waiting on the father, Ben Whitecross.”

Sir William hung up the phone in his flat. His face was bleak. “My daughter has lost her baby.”

Harrison stood up from his chair. “I’m so sorry, sir. So sorry.”

“It was a boy.”

“I don’t know what to say, sir.”

Sir William sank into his seat, staring at the door. “She’s pulled through. The doctor said she can still bear children.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Sir William lifted his left hand and looked at it. “Do you believe in God’s judgment, Harrison?”

“Why…I do, sir…though I don’t like to dwell on it—”

“How do I know He did not slay my fourth grandson because I shot Lord Scarborough?”

“Ah, no, sir. Scarborough himself accepted the outcome. Why, he tried to kill you, sir. You fired to wound. He knows that. God Almighty must know it.”

“Still. It was a sin, wasn’t it? I should not have agreed to the duel.”

“Sir, we’ve been through all that. Scarborough would have gone after your family, as he threatened. You agreed to the duel to protect them. As any good father would.”