Aunt Dimity Takes a Holiday (22 page)

“Good-bye . . . Winnie.” The muscles worked in Derek’s jaw as he watched his beloved nanny meekly take the tea tray from Giddings and leave.

The others shrank back as Winnie passed them, as if her madness were a contagion that might be spread by contact. I turned and stared in horror at the teacup sitting on the mantelshelf.

“Inspector Layton?” Lord Elstyn murmured.

Giddings’s dark-suited assistant stepped forward, but he did so with an air of authority that had been missing when he’d first entered the study.

“My men are waiting for her, Lord Elstyn,” he said. “I’ve instructed them to treat her with care. Huang has already made his report. I’ll send a chap round to take statements from everyone else this afternoon.” He picked up the cardboard box and addressed the rest of us. “In the meantime, please don’t touch the teacup intended for Simon Elstyn. We’ll want to analyze its contents. Good day to you all.”

Giddings opened the door for Inspector Layton and gave him a deferential bow as he passed. Jim Huang retrieved his laptop and was about to follow the inspector out of the study when the earl asked him to wait.

“Thank you, Mr. Huang,” he said.

“You’re welcome, sir,” said Jim.

“I would be honored,” the earl continued, “if you would accept a volume from the library, any volume you choose, as a special token of my family’s gratitude.”

“Any volume?” Jim echoed, wide-eyed. He seemed to doubt his good fortune. “As I’m sure you know, sir, some of the books are quite valuable.”

“None can be as valuable as the service you’ve rendered us,” said the earl. “Go, Mr. Huang, make your selection. You are a connoisseur. I know that you will give it a good home. And please give my best regards to your father.”

“I will, sir. Thank you, sir.” Jim bounced on his toes as he departed, as if he couldn’t wait to reach the library.

When Giddings had gone, Bill and I were the only non-family members left in the study, but I didn’t think it mattered. After the morning’s wrenching revelations, I doubted that anyone would have the heart to discuss business. I should have known better.

“Yes,” Gina said, flicking the file folder with her fingertip. “We’ve been subjected to a most disagreeable scene, but now that it’s over, we should take a page from Giddings’s book and attend to our affairs.”

“Surely it can wait,” pleaded Oliver.

“It has waited,” Gina retorted. “It’s waited for more than twenty years. Uncle and I have spent the past three months preparing for this meeting and I’m damned if I’ll have it delayed another second.” She snapped her fingers, as if she’d had a sudden insight. “The papers Winfield dug out of the rubbish,” she said. “She must have found your notes, Uncle. She must have read the outline of my plan—”

“A plan to which I am adamantly opposed,” Bill interrupted.

Gina sniffed. “Bill’s been your staunch defender, Derek. I’m surprised he has any voice left, after arguing so forcibly on your behalf, but Uncle’s mind is made up.”

Simon stepped into the fray. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”

“Don’t be naive, Simon,” Claudia drawled. “Even I’ve been able to guess that Uncle Edwin intends to disinherit Derek.”

“What?”
Simon looked thunderstruck. “Don’t be absurd, Claudia. Uncle Edwin would never disinherit his own son.”

Derek swung around to face him. The heartache he felt for Winnie erupted in a blast of anger directed at his cousin. “Stop pretending, Simon. Winnie was right. You’ve been angling for my position ever since we were children.”

Oliver tried to intervene. “Derek, I don’t think you understand—”

“I understand everything,” Derek broke in. “The moment my back was turned, Simon was there. ‘Watch me ride, Uncle Edwin, watch me dance. Read my school reports, introduce me to your friends,
choose my wife for me. . . .
’ Your ambition would be laughable if it weren’t so disgusting.”

I would have fled from Derek’s taunting, but Simon held his ground.

“If I was there, Derek, it was
because
your back was turned,” he said. “Someone had to help Uncle Edwin. Someone had to be there for him after Aunt Eleanor died, and
you weren’t.
”

Derek rose to his feet, fists clenched. “Don’t you dare bring my mother into this.”

“Your mother’s at the very center of it,” Simon retorted. “If you hadn’t spent so much time trailing after the carpenter, you’d know—”

“Now you’re going to insult Mr. Harris?” Derek’s voice rose in disbelief. “Mr. Harris was a better husband than my father ever was. Mr. Harris’s wife never left him.”

I stared at Derek, aghast, knowing he’d spoken in ignorance and wishing I could hold back the avalanche of harsh truth that was about to hit him. But there was no holding it back.

“Your mother didn’t leave your father.” Simon bit off each word and spat it out angrily. “She died, Derek. She died of cancer. She took a year to die, and when she was done, your father would have turned to you, but you’d already shut him out.” Simon paused to catch his breath. “So he turned to me. I’ve spent my entire life making up for your shortcomings and I’ve paid for it, oh, how I’ve paid.”

Gina stood. “You’re about to be repaid, Simon. Uncle Edwin, would you please make your announcement?”

The earl didn’t seem to hear her. He was staring at Derek as if mesmerized. “Anthony,” he said softly, “have you believed, for all these years, that your mother abandoned you?”

“She . . . she left me because of you,” Derek faltered.

“No, my boy, no.” Lord Elstyn pushed himself up from his chair and came to stand before Derek. “She wanted to protect you. She didn’t want you to see her suffer. She wouldn’t allow me to bring you to her.” The earl seemed to shrink beneath the weight of memory, and his voice sank to a broken murmur, but his eyes remained fixed on Derek’s. “She lost her hair, her fingernails, her teeth. Her skin turned gray, her body shriveled. You were her darling child, the only child she would ever have. She didn’t want you to remember her that way. She wouldn’t let me tell you. . . .” The earl shook his head. “I meant to explain when you were older, but time slipped away. You were at school, at university—and then you were gone.”

Derek looked heartsick and confused. His voice trembled as he said, “Father?”

Lord Elstyn put a hand on his son’s shoulder, whispering, “My boy . . .”

If I could have pulled out a magic wand and made everyone but those two disappear, I would have. The moment was sacred. It belonged to one father and one son, and no one else should have been there to witness it.

Bill was on the same wavelength. He rose quietly and motioned for the others to follow him out of the study. They would have, if Gina hadn’t raised her voice.

“No,” she said, then repeated more determinedly, “
No.
It’s too late for reconciliation. The papers are signed. Simon will assume control of Hailesham’s assets upon Uncle Edwin’s decease.”

“No, he will not,” Simon growled.

“Don’t meddle,” Gina snapped. “You don’t know how hard I’ve worked to make this happen.”

“It’s a pity you didn’t discuss it with me,” said Simon.

Gina flung the file folder on the desk in exasperation. “Why are you being so obstructive? You love Hailesham. I know you do. It’s what you’ve always wanted.”

All eyes turned to Simon. He gazed across the room at his wife, staring at her as if she were a stranger. Finally he smiled.

“You’re right,” he conceded. “I do love Hailesham.” He put his hands in his trouser pockets, strolled slowly to the windows, and let his gaze rove from the workshops to the stables. He inhaled deeply. “I love the house, the woods, the gardens, but, above all, I love the tradition. It’s a tradition that goes back some eight hundred years—for eight centuries the land’s been handed down from father to son, without interruption.” He looked over his shoulder at his wife. “Did you seriously believe that I, of all people, would be the one to break the chain?”

Gina’s look of blazing hatred seemed to scorch the air. “If you refuse,” she said, “you’re on your own.”

Simon shrugged. “I’ve been on my own for years.” He turned his face to the windows. “It won’t hurt to make it official.”

Gina reached for the folder, but Claudia darted forward and snatched it from the desk. “Yours, I think, Uncle Edwin,” she said. “Your papers. Your decision.”

Lord Elstyn turned to Gina, saying, “I’m sorry.”

“You will be,” she said evenly, and marched out of the study.

A moment of silence followed her departure. Then Lord Elstyn laid the folder on the desk, opened it, and began tearing up the closely written sheets of paper it contained.

Derek put a hand out to stop him. “Father,” he said hesitantly, “you know I can’t come back. I can’t be Anthony again. I have my own life and it’s a good one.”

“You have a son,” Lord Elstyn pointed out. “In two short weeks, he’ll come of age.”

I felt a rush of trepidation for Peter. He was at home sailing the high seas, paddling dugout canoes, manning vulcanologists’ outposts. He was too young to trade the carefree adventures of the open road for the heavy responsibilities of family leadership.

Peter folded his hands in his lap and tapped the tips of his thumbs together. His gaze was focused inward, as if he were contemplating the diverging paths that stretched before him. He seemed to reach a decision. He stood, sauntered past his father and grandfather, and came to a halt at Simon’s side. Both men gazed out at the courtyard.

“Heard you might be in need of new digs,” Peter said conversationally.

“I doubt that Gina will let me back into the old one,” Simon observed.

“Don’t suppose you’d care to live here,” said Peter.

Simon took a shaky breath and bowed his head.

“On a permanent basis, I mean,” Peter clarified. “I’ve got a few commitments to keep over the next couple of years. It’d be comforting to know that Grandfather has someone—someone close at hand—on whom he can rely absolutely while I’m away.”

Simon opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to catch in his throat.

“I’ll need to learn the ropes when I come back, of course,” Peter went on. “Should take years and years. The rest of my life, in fact. I’m rather counting on you being here to teach me.” His steady gaze came to rest on Simon’s face. “I’ve always counted on you to be here.”

“I . . .” Simon struggled for composure. “I’ll do my best, Peter. I swear to you, I’ll do my best.”

“Right. Good. Well, that’s settled then.” Peter’s hand rested lightly on Simon’s shoulder, then he turned to address the others. “I promised Nell I’d tell her what happened here this morning, but so much has happened that I’m not sure I can do it on my own. Would anyone care to lend a hand?”

“We’ll all come,” said Emma, and everyone murmured their assent.

“Excellent.” Peter strode forward, gathering his shaken family as he went. “Though my promise strikes me now as a bit ridiculous. Knowing my sister as I do, I’ve little doubt that she’ll end up telling
us
what happened.”

His comment provoked a muted ripple of laughter. Peter seemed to know that old wounds healed best when given a judicious dose of sunshine.

Derek waited until the others had gone, then turned to gaze at Simon, who remained standing at the windows.

“Simon,” he said softly, “where do I begin . . .”

Simon drew a breath and let it out slowly. “Use your skills,” he said. “Start rebuilding some old bridges.”

Derek nodded gravely, turned, and left the room.

I stayed behind with Simon.

“You okay?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” he answered, “but apart from my ribs, which are still rather tender, I believe that I may be better than I’ve been in ages.” He took his hands from his pockets and held them out to me. “You said something—was it only yesterday? You said that a life without risk isn’t worth living. Perhaps I’ve taken my first step toward rebirth.”

“Sounds painful.” I took his hands in mine and held them tightly. “If you need any help along the way . . .”

“I’ll ask for help”—he pressed my hands to his heart—“from my friend.”

Epilogue

Simon collected a few personal items from his home, then moved into a suite of rooms at Hailesham Park. Though his son is a regular visitor, his soon-to-be-ex-wife is not. Lord Elstyn has already found a new attorney.

Lord Elstyn has found a new hobby as well. Emma coaxed him into the greenhouses one wintry day and persuaded him—no one knows how—to repot a geranium. He’s taken a hands-on approach to gardening ever since, and it seems to have given him a new lease on life. When the tourists come in the spring and see a tall and stately gentleman wheeling barrows of compost down the paths, they’ll find it hard to believe that he ever had a heart problem.

The problems besetting Derek’s heart are more complex and will take longer to work out. He’s trying hard to forge a new relationship with Simon as well as his father, and with goodwill on all sides, I’ m confident he’ll succeed.

The doctors have asked Derek not to visit Winnie. She was deemed incompetent to stand trial and confined to a secure nursing home, where she coddles the cat and keeps her room—and everyone else’s—immaculate. I don’t think she’ll ever be released.

Claudia will never become a doctor, but she’s put her social standing to good use by holding fund-raisers to support a cancer hospice. Her husband the MP cites her accomplishments with pride in his news releases, and the Westwood Trust now counts her as one of its most active and dependable patrons.

Oliver took me up on my invitation to visit the cottage. He spent Thanksgiving weekend helping Annelise chase after the boys while I basted the turkey, and he returned a week later, to bring Annelise a book she’d mentioned in passing. Since he’s not the kind of man to rush a courtship, I figure I’ll have until St. Patrick’s Day to find another nanny.