Aunt Dimity Beats the Devil (Aunt Dimity Mystery) (17 page)

You’re slow in answering, Lori. Perhaps I should restate the question more explicitly. Did Claire make use of your bond with Adam to express her own physical desires?

“She did. I threw myself at Adam. He stopped me before things got out of hand, but if it hadn’t been for him…” I groaned softly and hung my head.

Let’s not become melodramatic, my dear. Do you think you’re the first married woman to be distracted by a pretty face? Distraction is not action. You might have looked at Adam Chase, but you would
never have touched him if it hadn’t been for Claire. The shame is hers, not yours.

While Adam resumed his seat, there was a pause, as if Dimity were pondering her next words. Then the handwriting continued.

Claire is, alas, deeply troubled. I sense heartache, yes, but also anger, and an ardent desire to right a wrong. She’s terribly concerned about the fate of a dark-haired, dark-eyed young man. That’s why she drove your family from your mind. She wanted you to focus solely on one man.

How well she succeeded, I reflected. I’d been drawn to Adam from the start, but I hadn’t become obsessed with him until I’d entered the hall. Aloud, I said, “She must be worried about Edward.”

Whoever it is, I would counsel you to leave Wyrdhurst and never return. It’s much the safest course.

Aunt Dimity’s suggestion was tempting. Claire had entered my mind uninvited. She’d tampered with my dreams and taken advantage of my weaknesses. She’d blurred memories of my children and replaced my love for Bill with a fantasy of her own devising. I should have resented her, but I couldn’t.

I turned toward the fire and saw in the leaping flames a young girl torn between her father’s wishes and the dictates of her own heart. I admired her courage, understood her fears, and felt with every fiber of my being the depth of her love for Edward. For better or for worse, Claire had become a part of me. I couldn’t abandon her now.

I returned my attention to the journal. “You say she’s desperate,
Dimity. You say she’s deeply troubled. There must be a way to help her.”

It could be dangerous.

“What’s the alternative?” I asked. “To leave her in agony until another woman with my extremely rare qualifications just happens to visit Wyrdhurst?” I gripped the journal tightly. “I’ve felt Claire’s longing, Dimity. I’ve experienced her grief. I can’t walk away from her without at least trying to help.”

I didn’t think you would. Ah, well. If anyone can help Claire, you can, and there are ways to minimize the risks. Now that you’re aware of her machinations, she won’t be able to manipulate you so easily. She might even be willing to work with you. But you’ll need something more. You’ll need someone you can trust, to tether you to the world of the living.

I looked across the room, to the narrow iron bed I’d shared with Adam. I recalled the way he’d tucked the blankets in between us when I’d first awakened, and the humor he’d used to put me at ease. I’d been his for the taking up on the moors, but he hadn’t taken me. Instead, he’d pushed me away, because it wasn’t “right.” Even now he watched me patiently, accepting without question what would have seemed to most men insane behavior.

“Would it be playing with fire to choose Adam?” I asked.

I think not. I’ve no doubt whatsoever that Claire has been trying to influence his behavior as well, but he’s demonstrated admirable self-control when faced with temptation. He’s clearly less vulnerable to her machinations than you are, and his invulnerability may help to protect you, now that you know what Claire’s up to.

“Tell me what to do,” I said.

Ask Claire to guide you. Something is amiss at Wyrdhurst. It
must be put right or she’ll never rest in peace.
The handwriting stopped briefly.
Few people would put themselves at risk to help a suffering soul. I’m proud of you, Lori.

Tears pricked my eyes even as I smiled. I brushed them away, closed the journal, and sat in silence, pondering how best to explain the inexplicable.

“Adam,” I began. “Do you remember when I told you that I wasn’t afraid of ghosts?…”

Two hours later, we sat across from each other at the pine table, eating bread and cheese and nursing mugs of tea. The blue journal lay beside the cutting board, and Reginald presided over the teapot. Adam had retrieved my flannel bunny from the wardrobe when he’d fetched the journal, but I’d been too dazed to notice at the time.

I cringed to think that I’d let Reg tumble to the floor while I cuddled the dashing Major Ted, but Reginald seemed unfazed by my disloyalty. He regarded me complacently, secure in the knowledge that no bear in uniform could ever take his place.

I kept my communion with Reginald to myself. I’d already given Adam enough food for years of thought, and though he’d accepted my improbable tale so far, I didn’t want to push it.

“So,” I said, “you’ll come back to Wyrdhurst with me? You’ll stay until I’ve found a way to help Claire?”

“Need you ask?” Adam slivered a curl of cheese and popped it into his mouth. “It’s fascinating to think that Wyrdhurst is haunted after all, but by a ghost no one suspected.”

“You must remind Claire of Edward,” I said. “He’s got
dark hair and eyes, just like you. That’s why I”—I caught myself—“why
she
finds you so attractive.”

“Perhaps Josiah was right in keeping them apart,” Adam observed.

“I’m not sure right and wrong come into it,” I said. “Young love’s a pretty powerful force. Bad things can happen when you get in its way. Do the names Romeo and Juliet ring a bell?”

“It was love, then,” Adam said, “not simply adolescent urgings run amok?”

“It was for Claire,” I replied. “I don’t know about Edward.”

“Why not?” Adam asked.

“He left, didn’t he?” I shivered at the memory of Claire’s voice speaking through me on the moors. “She pleaded with him to stay, but he left, and I don’t know why.”

“Perhaps his letters will tell us,” said Adam.

“Will you help me find them?” I asked.

“Of course.” Adam stared into the middle distance for a moment, then folded his arms and rested them on the table. “Thank you for taking me into your confidence, Lori. I swear to you that I’ll never tell another living soul about Dimity and her journal.”

“I know you won’t.” I poked his arm playfully. “I trust you, Adam.”

He laughed a small, helpless laugh, as if my words had pained him. “Lori, there’s something I must tell you. I—” He broke off, interrupted by the chirrup of the cell phone in my jacket pocket.

“Hold that thought,” I told him, and hastened to answer the phone.

It was Guy, with reports on several fronts, each of which served to remind me that Nicole needed my help just as badly as young Claire.

Guy’s men had found no evidence of an intruder on the terrace or in the tangled garden outside the library, and they were absolutely certain that no unauthorized vehicle had used the military track or the gated drive the night before.

“Whoever frightened Mrs. Hollander last night didn’t come by car,” Guy informed me. “Which leads me to Mr. Hollander and his alleged trip to Newcastle…”

Guy had been unable to locate Jared Hollander. He’d contacted owners of antique stores and auction houses in Newcastle, as well as private collectors of Victoriana, but no one had encountered Nicole’s husband.

“By the same token,” Guy went on, “my men haven’t found his car. Six villagers saw him on Monday morning, driving toward the A696, which runs directly to Newcastle.”

“He set out for Newcastle, then disappeared?” I grunted skeptically. “I’ll bet he doubled back, hid the car out on the moors, and walked to Wyrdhurst. You can hide a lot on the moors. Adam and I found a crazy rock formation out there this morning, tucked away behind a hill.”

“Yes,” said Guy. “My men saw you.”

A long minute passed, ample time for me to recall that I was speaking with a man who’d made heroic efforts to suppress his yearnings for a married woman.

“Guy,” I cautioned. “It’s not what you think.”

“What I think is immaterial.” His tone was arctic. “Do you plan to return to Wyrdhurst?”

“Yes,” I said. “I wouldn’t let Nicole spend the night there alone.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I’ll be in touch.” Guy rang off without saying good-bye.

I folded the phone, turned, and stared at Adam. “That was Guy,” I told him. “His men saw us, on the hill. He thinks we’re slime.”

“Does it matter what he thinks?” Adam came to stand before me. “The only one who matters is your husband.” He took the cell phone from me, flipped it open, and handed it back. “Ring him. Now. I’ll wait outside.”

He gave me an encouraging wink before he left, but his parting glance was melancholy, as if he were just a little disappointed to know that the kiss had come from Claire and not from me.

Bill was pleased, not overjoyed, to hear from me.

“Can you hold a sec?” he asked, and before I could answer, he barked sternly, “Rob, if you don’t give Daddy the rolling pin
at once,
Daddy’s going to— Will, get your hands out of the marmalade
this minute
or I’ll— Annelise!” His roar made my ear ring. “Could you give me a hand? Lori, I’ll be right with you.…Boys! I said
right now.
”

There was a long pause during which I could hear the endearing, raucous sounds of my babies asserting their independence. Then Bill was back, apologizing for the interruption.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Let’s just say that you’re not the only bullheaded member of the family,” Bill replied.

“Stubbornness isn’t such a bad trait,” I temporized. “It may save the boys’ lives someday.”

“I’ll bear that in mind while I’m wiping the marmalade handprints off the walls.” Bill let out a whoosh, as thought he’d collapsed rather than settled into a convenient chair. “How about you? How’s it going? Did the car arrive? And Dimity? She was incredibly anxious to join you, popped off her shelf three times, nearly clobbered Annelise twice.…”

The sound of his voice washed over me like honey, routing the dim shadows from my mind and rooting me firmly in a world I knew and loved.

“Lori,” he said finally, “are you in some sort of trouble?”

I sank onto the armchair and smiled. “Not anymore.”

A
dam and I returned to Wyrdhurst expecting fireworks, but nothing happened—no dizziness, no lightning bolts in my brain, and no irresistible urges to fling myself at someone other than my husband. Claire seemed to be keeping her distance, held in check, as Dimity had predicted, by Adam’s anchoring presence and my own wariness.

We’d just finished piling Adam’s overnight gear, Reginald, and the blue journal on the oak settle in the entrance hall when Mrs. Hatch emerged from the kitchen to inform us that Nicole was in the library.

“By herself?” I said, surprised.

“She insisted,” Mrs. Hatch replied. “She’s in a rare mood, that one. She said you were to go through when you get back. Would you please remind Mrs. Hollander that dinner will be on the table in forty minutes?”

I told her I would and hastened to the library, with Adam close on my heels.

Nicole was awake, fully dressed, and sitting on the sofa when we entered the room. She looked pale, but determined. When she saw us, she lifted her chin.

“I’ve been the most complete ninny,” she announced. “I know very well that I didn’t see a ghost last night.”

Adam crossed to stand before the hearth, while I sat with Nicole on the sofa.

“What changed your mind?” I asked.

“As Dr. MacEwan quite rightly pointed out, ghosts don’t exist.” Nicole bit off each word cleanly before spitting it out. “Therefore, the thing I saw flying past the window must have been a human being.” Her nostrils flared in anger. “Someone’s
trying to frighten me, Lori. On purpose. It’s made me extremely cross.”

The contrast between Nicole’s little-girl vocabulary and her inflamed, adult emotion was so extreme that I couldn’t restrain a short burst of involuntary laughter.

“Lori!” Nicole exclaimed, in high dudgeon.

I was immediately contrite. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s great to see you up and punching. I’d rather you were angry than hysterical.”

Nicole sniffed haughtily. “You won’t see me hysterical again. I intend to go to Blackhope after dinner and tell those women exactly what I think of them.”

Adam and I exchanged uncertain glances.

“Women?” I said.

“The chars,” Nicole replied. “The women Jared dismissed. They’ve evidently decided to take their revenge on him by harassing me. It’s unkind, unjust, and utterly uncalled-for.”

“Are you sure about this?” I inquired.

“Am I sure that a flock of vindictive biddies has been pecking at me?” Nicole thought for a moment before admitting, “Not entirely. But who else could it be? Who else would play such cruel tricks on me?”

The opening was there, but I didn’t take it. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Nicole why her husband might be tempted to play cruel tricks on his wealthy, wide-eyed bride. But I could keep her from interfering with Guy’s investigation.

“There’s no need for you to go anywhere,” I assured her. “Guy told me that he’s aware of the situation, and that he’s looking into it.”