Aunt Dimity's Good Deed (29 page)

“Of course you couldn‘t,” I murmured.

Gerald turned his head to look at me. His gaze was so tender and so filled with self-reproach that tears blurred my vision. “I’m not a hero, Lori. I didn’t act for Lucy’s sake alone. My pride was injured. I’d been rejected, as had my father, and I wanted nothing more to do with the Willis family.” He withdrew his hand from mine and stared somberly at the cheerless glow of the electric fire. “So I came here. I brought with me everything I’d found in the vaults, in case Sally ever took it into her spiteful head to tell Lucy about the hidden chamber. I paid Sally for her silence, and I told myself what a noble creature I was, to make such sacrifices for a family that had spurned me. And all the while I despised them, for their past sins and their present ignorance.” He turned back to me. “A hero would not have felt as I have.”

“Perhaps not.” Willis, Sr., got briskly to his feet and walked over to stand before Gerald, one hand behind his back, the other clasping his lapel. “There is a quality known as character, however, of which you have more than your share, young man. Regardless of your feelings, you acted nobly.” Willis, Sr., raised an admonishing finger. “Not sensibly, mind you, but nobly.”

Gerald hung his head. “I’ve been God’s own fool, Cousin William, and I know it.”

“William,” said Nell, “how did you guess what Gerald had done? No one in the family could have told you.”

Willis, Sr., smiled. “Gerald’s own sound character gave him away. Everyone I interviewed went on at length about what a fine young man he was. When Arthur informed me of Gerald’s assignations at the Flamborough, therefore, it struck me as exceedingly odd, and I called Scotland Yard to make inquiries.”

I laughed involuntarily. “You called in the Yard just to check up on Gerald?”

“I felt it would save time,” said Willis, Sr. “Chief Inspector Mappin, as it turned out, had harbored suspicions concerning Dr. Flannery’s activities for years, but no one had ever come forward to lodge a formal complaint against her. Armed with this new information, I returned to Haslemere with the chief inspector in order to ... persuade Gerald to tell us the truth.”

Gerald and Bill exchanged the rictus grins of men who knew what it meant to be subjected to Willis, Sr.’s powers of persuasion.

“It was the chief inspector’s idea to invite Dr. Flannery,” said Willis, Sr. “In my opinion, an excellent suggestion. She is a vile creature, and the sooner she is removed from the general populace, the better.”

Bill leaned back in his chair, beaming at Willis, Sr. “Never let it be said that my father doesn’t know how to stage a grand finale. Bravo, Father. Well done.”

Gerald ran his hand distractedly through his chestnut hair. “I don’t think we’ve reached the finale,” he said. “I still have to break a great deal of bad news to Lucy, and to my father as well.”

“I know how you can soften the blow to your father,” I said. “You can stop selling off his collection.”

Gerald stared at me, nonplussed. “But I’m not selling it off. I can’t. It’s not ours.”

“Lucy said it was,” Nell put in. “She told us that your father picked it up for a song after the war.”

“He did pick it up.” For the first time in the entire evening, Gerald’s dimple peeped out from among his bruises. “From the rubble of churches and the ruined homes of private collectors. When I started going through old auction catalogues to get an idea of what the pieces were worth, there they were—reliquaries, chalices, crucifixes—with the names of their original owners. I’ve been returning them, anonymously.”

Bill leaned his chin in his hand and sighed disconsolately. “I’m beginning to hate you very deeply, Gerald. Please. Cheer me up. Tell me that you had to rob a few widows in order to buy all those nice gifts for your uncle.”

Gerald’s crooked smile widened. “Sorry, Bill, but the widows of England are safe from me. Even after I left the firm, Lucy insisted on sending me my share of the profits. It didn’t seem right, somehow, to spend it on myself, so I used it to help my father buy his house in Old Warden, and to bring Uncle Williston a few things to cheer him up.”

Bill pursed his lips, disgusted. “That’s what I thought.”

From far down the hall came the sound of a ringing telephone. A moment later, Mrs. Burweed appeared, saying that the call was for Willis, Sr. He thanked her, then asked if he might have a word with Bill in private.

Bill answered my questioning look with a perplexed shrug as he followed his father out into the hallway. I looked over at Nell, but she’d wrapped her arms around her knees and turned to stare intently at the bars of the electric fire. I knew by her preternatural stillness that she’d drifted into a deep reverie.

For all intents and purposes, Gerald and I were alone.

My heart began to hammer dangerously. I opened my mouth once or twice before finally managing a lame “Sorry about your eye.”

Gerald gave me an impish, sidelong look and murmured quietly, “A small price to pay.”

Toying nervously with a fold of my cotton dress, I gulped and looked down at my lap. “And I’m very sorry for the stupid trick Nell and I played on you.”

“Ah, yes. Miss Shepherd and little Nicolette.” Gerald tilted his head to one side. “Why the charade?”

“We’d heard the same rumors William had heard,” I explained, keeping my voice low so as not to break Nell’s concentration. “We weren’t sure that we could trust you.”

“But you’re sure now?” Gerald asked.

“Yes. And so is the rest of your family.” I felt Gerald stiffen, glanced up, and saw that his face had turned to stone.

“Apart from Father,” he said coldly, “I have no family.”

“No family?” The red-gold haze that had risen before my eyes changed abruptly to solid red, and I turned toward Gerald so I wouldn’t have to raise my voice to get my point across. “What could you possibly know about having no family? I never got the chance to meet my grandparents, and my father died when I was still in diapers. The only family I ever had was my mother. But you ...” I stabbed a finger at Gerald’s startled face, almost too angry to speak.
“You
have a father and an uncle and an aunt and more cousins than you know what to do with. And each and every one of them worships the ground you walk on. And you
dare
to tell me that you have no family?”

“But... but...”

I held my hands up, refusing to let him speak. “Okay, so Uncle Williston lied to you about some stupid little male-bonding ritual.
Big deal.
Does that cancel out a lifetime of love? And for your information,” I sputtered, leaning forward until my nose was nearly touching his, “it’s the wo
men
who decide who’s part of a family, not the
men.”

“Is that right?” Gerald said meekly.

I thought of Bill’s aunts and nodded emphatically. “Yes. And as far as Anthea and Lucy are concerned, you’re one hundred percent Willis. So just stop all of this ... this
whining.”
I paused to catch my breath, and as Gerald lifted his arm to lay it along the back of the couch, I became keenly aware of the fact that I was practically sitting in his lap.

“Self-pity, eh?” he asked. “Is that my problem?”

“Y-yes,” I replied, trying very hard not to be distracted by the knowledge that my knee was nestled snugly against his thigh. “It’s made you lump Lucy in with the idiot males in your family, and she doesn’t deserve it. She never betrayed you. She didn’t know a thing about Sir Williston’s nasty old diary.”

“Exactly,” Gerald said dejectedly.

“She’ll get over it,” I declared. “She’ll toss Julia Louise’s portrait onto a bonfire and dig up a more worthy role model. Not that she needs one. She’s pretty incredible already:”

“I suppose she’ll find out about the diary eventually,” Gerald acknowledged. “Arthur’s bound to slip up one day.”

“Make sure she finds out about it from you.” I peered earnestly up at Gerald’s beautiful, battered face. “You go back to Lucy and tell her the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth—and don’t ever tell her anything else.”

Gerald’s dimple reappeared. “You’re advising complete honesty?”

I nodded. “Believe me, Gerald, it’s not just the best policy, it’s the only policy when you’re dealing with someone you love.”

“In that case, I have one more confession to make to you, Lori.” He leaned forward and whispered, his lips mere inches from my own: “I was not simply being kind.”

I gazed steadily into his sea-bright eye and saw something there that sent a new kind of warmth flooding through me. “You’re doing it again, aren’t you.”

Gerald lowered his long eyelashes, and his lips curved into a rueful smile. “Perhaps,” he admitted. “The last time I saw you...”

“Things have changed since then,” I assured him. “Mr. Willis’s son has come to his senses. But thanks, Gerald. I’ll never forget your kindness.” I bent closer and kissed him gently on the cheek. “Maybe I can return the favor sometime.”

“Lori,” he said softly, “you already have.”

 

Gerald and I were discussing the difficulties he was encountering in identifying the rightful owners of his father’s collection when the hall door opened and Bill strode jauntily into the room, talking excitedly with Willis, Sr.

“Who called?” I asked, smiling fondly at my husband.

“Thomas,” replied Willis, Sr. “I assured him that all was well and that his son would visit him tomorrow.” He and Bill came to stand in front of the couch, looking as though they’d just solved the problem of how to weight a certain bamboo fishing pole properly so that it would stay at the bottom of a certain lake in Maine.

“Now, Gerald,” continued Willis, Sr., brightly, “I believe we can conclude the business that brought me to you in the first place.”

“Excellent,” said Gerald, getting to his feet.

“What business?” I asked suspiciously. “You promised not to leave Boston.”

“A promise I fully intend to keep.” Willis, Sr., put one hand on Bill’s shoulder and the other on Gerald’s. “Lori, please allow me to introduce the newly formed European branch of Willis & Willis.”

It took a minute or two for the meaning of his words to sink in.
“Bill?”
I exclaimed. “Bill’s going to work in
Finch?”

“When he’s not working in London,” said Gerald. He held his hand to his black eye. “I’ve been telling Lucy for years that we need a heavy hitter in our corner.”

“With all due modesty,” said Willis, Sr., “I believe that the announcement of our alliance will lay to rest any uncertainties Dr. Flannery’s revelations may arouse in the legal community on both sides of the Atlantic.”

I looked up at the three men as they launched into plans for the future. Willis, Sr., talked expansively about the complications of dealing with his firm’s increasingly international clientele, but he couldn’t fool me. I’d finally figured out what he’d been up to all along.

My darling father-in-law had just seen to it that Bill and I would no longer be the only transatlantic couple we knew. He was taking us out of the mansion and away from Bill’s horrible aunts, and putting us into the cottage, where we’d be surrounded by loving friends and a whole flock of caring relatives. He knew that the first two years of our marriage had nearly broken our hearts, but he also knew that they would mend, given the proper care and attention.

At the same time, of course, he was clearing the decks back in Boston, so he could return to what he considered his life’s work, as well as increasing his chances of having a grandchild, but that was only to be expected. Uncle Tom hadn’t called Willis, Sr., a crafty old fox for nothing.

“William,” Nell said, emerging suddenly from her reverie near the hearth.

Willis, Sr., turned toward her. “Yes, Eleanor?”

Nell regarded him with a dissatisfied frown. “Does this mean that number three, Anne Elizabeth Court, belongs to you?”

“It belongs to my family,” said Willis, Sr., gazing benignly at Gerald. “As it always has.”

“There’s something else,” said Nell. “Why did you leave that silly note for Lori when you left the cottage? We had to jump through hoops to find out where you’d gone.”

Willis, Sr., regarded me sheepishly. “Forgive me, Lori. I was in such high spirits when I departed that I must have left out a few pertinent details. Understandable, I would say, considering the circumstances. It is not every day that one receives such gratifying news.”

“Gratifying news?” I repeated blankly.

Willis, Sr., raised a hand to the knot in his tie, then placed it gently on my shoulder. “My dear girl,” he said, his voice filled with disbelief, “am I to understand that they never got hold of you?”

“Who never got hold of me?” I demanded, beginning to feel nervous.

Willis, Sr., sat beside me on the couch. “Dr. Hawkings, my dear. He telephoned after you went to visit Emma, with the results of your most recent test. Lori, my dear,
dear
girl—it was positive.”

“Dr. Hawkings released my test results to
you?”
I squeaked.

“Test results?” said Bill.

“He told me that you had given him permission to shout them from the rooftops,” said Willis, Sr. “He also said that you should have noticed definite ... symptoms by now.”

“Symptoms?” Bill echoed.

“Hmmm ...” I scratched my head and reviewed the past few days—the unusual fatigue, the persistent backache, the mood swings ... How could I have been so obtuse? I looked down at the loose-fitting cotton dress Nell had picked out for me and said wonderingly, “I even tossed my cookies in a hedgerow.” My head snapped up and I stared accusingly at Nell. “You
knew.
”

“I had a hunch,” said Nell, crossing from the hearth to the couch.

“Emma warned me about your hunches.” I jumped to my feet and enveloped her and Bertie in what could only be described as a bear hug.

“Tossed your cookies in a hedgerow,” Bill was murmuring. Suddenly his face was suffused with what seemed like a heavenly radiance. “Lori? Do you mean to say that you‘re—”