Aunt Dimity and the Deep Blue Sea (6 page)

The housekeeper nodded and sped off down the corridor. Sir Percy took hold of the black iron handles and pushed the oak doors inward.

I winced, and the boys cried out in pain.

T
he light was so bright it hurt.

“Jeez, Percy,” I complained as the twins pressed their faces to my sides. “You could have warned us.”

“Awfully sorry,” he said contritely. “I’m accustomed to the parlor, but of course you’ve never been here before. Bit of a shock to the system, eh?”

“A bit,” I granted, blinking.

We’d stepped directly from the murky corridor into a room flooded with sunlight. The oak doors faced an uncurtained wall of mullioned windows. The leaded panes of wavy antique glass that would normally fill the Gothic frames had been replaced by single sheets of clear, modern glass that overlooked a vast expanse of blue sky and sparkling sea. The results were blinding.

When my eyes had adjusted to the glare, I realized that Sir Percy’s idea of a parlor, like his notion of a housekeeper, was very different from mine.The room was at least fifty feet long and thirty wide.

“It used to be twice as large,” said Sir Percy, following my astonished gaze. “Looked like an airplane hangar and cost a fortune to heat, so I lowered the ceiling and added a couple of walls to break up the space.” He pointed to a door on his left. “New dining room’s through there.”

The parlor no longer looked like an airplane hangar but like a homely, if grandly proportioned, living room.The walls had been smoothly plastered, painted a warm, buttery yellow, and hung with gilt-framed seascapes. Flower-filled vases set here and there filled the air with fragrance, and a dozen well-worn Turkish carpets covered the planked floor, overlapping each other in a muted riot of color.

None of the furniture matched, and all of it was slightly shabby. Assorted tables, sofas, and overstuffed armchairs were clustered around the stone hearth at the east end of the room or placed in half circles before the windows, as if Sir Percy could think of no finer entertainment than to spend a quiet evening watching the waves.

A refectory table sat opposite the oak doors, covered with a white linen cloth and set with Mrs. Gammidge’s light refreshment. Once the boys’ vision had returned to normal, I had to physically restrain them from launching themselves onto the piles of crustless sandwiches and mounds of fruit that had been arranged on china plates.

“You’ll spoil your lunch,” I said repressively, and limited them to one sandwich and one piece of fruit apiece.They took their booty with them to the deep window ledge behind the refectory table, removed their binoculars from the red plastic boxes, and curled up on the ledge to keep a lookout for pirates while they ate.

I dropped my carry-on bag on a nearby chair and asked if it was safe for Rob and Will to sit so near the massive pane of glass.

“Perfectly,” Sir Percy replied. “We’ve used tempered glass throughout the castle. An absolute necessity. Seagulls turn into cannonballs during a gale.”

“Speaking of cannonballs . . .” I began, recalling the weaponry on the northeast tower.

Sir Percy seemed to read my mind. “The cannons are purely ornamental,” he assured me. “I’ve sealed the barrels.”

“Good.” I looked around the room and shook my head. “You certainly know how to take a girl’s breath away, Percy. I’m flabbergasted.”

“Dundrillin’s a useful retreat,” he acknowledged, helping himself to a cucumber sandwich. “My sons and I use it during the summer months for business conferences, corporate powwows, and the like. Well-behaved clients are rewarded with holidays here. Everyone likes to say they’ve slept in a castle, Americans especially. We’ve made a number of quite lucrative deals while my guests have been under Dundrillin’s spell.”

I nodded. Sir Percy was a widower with four grown sons, all of whom held key positions in the flourishing Pelham business empire.

“How long has Dundrillin been in the family?” I asked.

“Hmmm, let me see. . . . ” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, as though casting his mind back over the centuries. “Dundrillin’s been in my family for at least . . . three years.” He laughed at my confusion. “Bought it when I got out of the oil business, dear girl. That’s where the name comes from, you see. Dundrillin Castle. Get it? Dundrillin?
Done drilling?
”

“I get it,” I said, with an obliging chuckle. “Why did you get out of oil?”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t fun anymore. “Too many cutthroats with too little finesse—just bully-boy tactics and greed. I’m as game as the next man, but I don’t relish gunplay during business hours. That’s how I met Hunter and Ross, in fact. Ah, speak of the devils. . . .”

Before I could sputter
“Gunplay?”
the oak doors swung inward and two men entered the room. The first was tall and beefy, with short red hair and a freckled face. His eyes were pale blue, and he was dressed casually, in khaki trousers, a striped rugby shirt, and track shoes. He looked as though he might be a few years younger than me, in his late twenties or early thirties.

The second man was more interesting to me, in part because of his bearing, but mostly because of the jagged scar that ran along his left temple and back into his hairline. He was older than the red-haired man—in his mid-forties, at a guess—not quite as tall, and trim rather than beefy, but he radiated an air of command.

He was dressed in dark blue blazer, brown twill trousers, polished brown leather shoes, and a light blue button-down shirt that fit his tapering torso like a glove. His dark hair was clipped short and flecked with gray, and his face was as lean and weathered as a mountaineer’s. He had a straight nose, a strong jaw, and a pair of piercing blue-gray eyes that shone almost silver in the sunlight. He seemed to have no trouble making the transition from darkness to light. His intense gaze moved from one end of the parlor to the other before coming to rest on me.

“Ms. Shepherd?” he said. He had a lovely, deep voice, and his accent was that of an educated, middle-class Englishman. “I’m Damian Hunter, and this is my colleague, Andrew Ross.”

“Hullo, Ms. Shepherd,” said the red-haired young man. He spoke with an unmistakable Scottish lilt. “I’ll be looking after your sons during your stay on Erinskil.”

The twins swiveled around on the window ledge to peer at Andrew Ross. He smiled and gave them a friendly wave, but they didn’t return it.They stared at him appraisingly, as though they were reserving judgment until further evidence of his good intentions surfaced.

“Hullo, lads,” Andrew said. “You look just like your snaps.”

“Who showed you our snaps?” Rob demanded.

“Sir Percy,” Andrew replied. “He’s keen on photographs.”

“We’re keen on drawing,” Will informed him loftily.

“So I’ve heard,” said Andrew. “Sir Percy’s stocked the nursery with paints and colored pencils and stacks of paper. I could take you up there now, if you like.”

Will pointed at Andrew. “Is he going to be our nanny, Mummy?”

“Is he a man-nanny?” Rob added doubtfully.

“My name’s Andrew,” Andrew growled, glowering, “and that’s what you’re to call me. If either of you mentions the horrible word ‘man-nanny’ again, I’ll dangle you by your heels from the castle walls!”

Andrew Ross couldn’t have thought of a better way to win the twins over. Nothing tickled them more than outrageous threats. They stared at him wide-eyed until he grinned again, then chortled with glee, scrambled down from the window seat, and ran to him, giggling wickedly. I think they were half hoping he’d follow through on his threat.

When Andrew went on to inform the boys that Sir Percy had packed the nursery with surprises, they couldn’t wait to leave. I, on the other hand, wasn’t about to entrust my babies to anyone without asking a few questions first.

“Have you worked with children before?” I inquired.

“I’ve had a fair amount of practical experience with the male sort,” Andrew replied cheerfully. “I’m the oldest of nine boys.”

“Good heavens,” I said faintly.

Sir Percy stepped forward. “Andrew’s also had specialized training that fits him for the job. Damian and I will tell you all about it
after Rob and Will leave.
”

“Okay,” I said, getting the message. I gave the boys a hug and a kiss apiece, reminded them to be on their best behavior, and promised to inspect their rooms as soon as I’d finished speaking with Sir Percy.

They each took hold of one of Andrew’s large, freckled hands and marched off with him into the dark corridor, bombarding him with questions about the surprises that lay in store for them in the nursery.

When they’d gone, Sir Percy led Damian Hunter and me to the nearest cluster of armchairs. Sir Percy and I sank comfortably into ours, but Damian sat rigidly on the edge of his. He was also careful, I noticed, to select the chair that gave him the broadest view of the room.

“Right,” said Sir Percy, after we’d taken our seats. “Time to get down to brass tacks. I’ve hired Hunter and Ross to act as your bodyguards while you’re at Dundrillin, Lori. Andrew has been assigned to guard the twins, and Damian will keep an eye on you.”

“Bodyguards?” I said doubtfully. “Percy, we’re in a castle on an island forty miles from the Scottish mainland. Why do we need bodyguards?”

“You may not need them,” Sir Percy said, “but as a wise man once said, it’s better to have and not need than to need and not have.”

“Seems like overkill to me,” I muttered.

“Ms. Shepherd,” Damian said quietly, “has your life ever been threatened before?”

“No,” I said, “but—”

“Have you ever come face-to-face with a madman intent on murdering you?” he broke in.

I eyed him uncertainly. “Well . . . no, but—”

“I have,” he said simply.

My eyes flickered to the scar on his temple, but I was nettled by his interruptions and retorted irritably, “Be that as it may, I still think it’s a bit much. I mean, how’s our madman going to find us? My husband isn’t going to tell him, and I doubt that Percy advertised our flight plan.”

“You must not underestimate your adversary.” Damian’s blue-gray eyes never wavered from my face as he continued. “You’ve seen only one of the e-mail messages sent to your husband. I’ve seen them all, and I’ve seen how well Abaddon covers his tracks. Abaddon may be insane, but he’s intelligent and he’s in no hurry. He’ll bide his time, make his plans. If he gets the chance, he’ll come at you when you least expect it—in the night, perhaps, or while you’re strolling on the beach. He may torture you first, or he may simply cut your throat. It’s impossible to predict, because I suspect he’s obeying voices no one else can hear. If I’m frightening you, I’m glad. I want you to be frightened enough to realize that you need my protection.You must be willing to do exactly as I say, when I say it, without hesitation. I can do my job only if I have your full cooperation. Do I have it?”

For a moment I could do nothing but stare at the man in stunned silence. He’d spoken calmly, without raising his voice, but his words conjured nightmarish images that paralyzed me. The hairs on the back of my neck rose, and I had to search to find my voice.

“I . . . I won’t let you scare my sons,” I stammered. “If Andrew’s up there telling them horror stories—”

“He’s not,” said Damian. “We do know what we’re doing, Ms. Shepherd. Andrew’s job is to bind Will and Rob to him with affection rather than fear. He’s doing his utmost at the moment to become their favorite uncle.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “What about you? Will you let me do my job?”

“Yes.” I took a shaky breath. “Yes, of course I will. I’m sorry if I sounded skeptical. It’s just . . .” I fumbled for the right words and finished lamely, “It’s all new to me.”

“That’s all right.” His mouth turned up briefly in a humorless smile. “It’s old to me.”

“A few ground rules, I think,” Sir Percy suggested, crossing his legs.

Damian sat back in his chair. “Andrew and I will accompany you and the twins at all times. I’ll explain the sleeping arrangements when we get to your suite. You may go where you wish on the island, as long as I’m with you.You are, of course, to send no mail, and you are to make no outgoing calls. I assume you’ve brought a mobile telephone with you.”

I nodded.

“Turn it off. Put it away. If you think you might be tempted to use it, give it to me. Satellite signals can be traced. When necessary, your husband will ring you on my mobile. I’ve already contacted him, by the way, to let him know of your safe arrival.”

“Thanks,” I said, but I didn’t mean it. I’d wanted to speak to Bill myself.

“Any questions?” Damian asked.

“Are you . . . armed?” I sat up as an even more alarming thought presented itself to me. “Is
Andrew
?”

“No,” said Damian.

“It’s the twins,” I said, with a weak smile. “They get into everything. If the cannons worked, I’d advise the village to build bomb shelters. While we’re on the subject,” I added, turning to Sir Percy, “I’d appreciate it if you’d lock up your electric car. If the twins get behind the wheel—”

“They’ll have a jolly good time,” Sir Percy declared, thumping the arm of his chair.

“You needn’t worry about the car,” Damian said. “Andrew won’t allow the twins to drive it, Ms. Shepherd.”

“Lori,” I said automatically. “Call me Lori. Everyone does. Except Mrs. Gammidge.”

“Mrs. Gammidge is a stickler for formalities,” Sir Percy observed. “I believe she addressed her husband as Mr. Gammidge until the day he died. And they were married for thirty-four years!”

I chuckled raggedly.

“That’s more like it.” Sir Percy patted my knee. “Damian’s paid to be solemn, but I can’t have you looking like grim death the whole time you’re here, Lori. It’s a serious business, no doubt, but you’re in good hands. Hunter and Ross are the best in the business. I should know. They’ve saved my bacon more times than I care to recall.”