Aunt Dimity and the Family Tree (6 page)

“They’re splendid,” I agreed, recalling the embroidered peasant blouses, the muslin skirts, and the flowing dresses Sally had shown me before her departure. “You’re an amazing seamstress.”

Sally reached out to give my hand a grateful squeeze, then turned back to Willis, Sr.

“Since I looked the part,” she went on, “I thought I might as well act the part as well. I tarted up my accent and ordered fancy drinks and let the
camareros
wait on me hand and foot.” She shrugged helplessly. “You know how foreigners are when they hear any sort of English accent. They think we’re all lords and ladies living in castles and taking tea with the queen every other Wednesday. They made it easy for me to ... to pretend to be grander than I am. It was just a bit of fun,” she said, eyeing Willis, Sr., defensively. “There’s nothing wrong with pretending to be someone else for a little while, is there?”

“It depends on what happens as a result of pretending,” Willis, Sr., replied judiciously. “There can, of course, be serious consequences to assuming a false identity.”

“You’re so right.” Sally nodded dejectedly. “Because on the second day of my trip, Henrique came along—Señor Henrique Cocinero.” Her tear-streaked face softened as the exotic name rolled off her tongue.

I stared at Sally, enthralled. If she’d gone off the rails with a man, it would be the biggest scandal to hit Finch since Peggy Taxman had accused my former nanny of burgling the vicarage. Bill shifted his position in his chair, but I kept as still as a statue, for fear of distracting her. I was dying to know what, if anything, had happened between her and Señor Cocinero.

“Henrique is quite well-off,” Sally went on. “He wears lovely white suits and Panama hats and he knows good tequila from bad and he’s a real gentleman, too, with polished manners and perfect grooming and ... and he took a fancy to me, so—just for fun—I went on pretending that I was the Honorable Lady Sarah Pyne, a wealthy widow who loves to travel.” Sally managed a faint smile. “And it worked! Henrique actually believed that I came from the same sort of world he came from. We had the most wonderful time together. He took me with him to Coba, to climb the Mayan pyramid I told you about. We went kayaking across a laguna and snorkeling near a coral reef and ...”

As Sally recounted her by-now familiar list of adventures, my doubts about her veracity slowly melted away. If love made all things possible—and I had reason to believe it did—then surely a holiday romance could propel a plump, silver-haired teashop owner to the top of a pyramid and beyond.

“... and he bought this for me.” Sally fished a delicate silver chain from the collar of her grubby sweatshirt and displayed a snowflake-shaped silver pendant embellished with a curious golden symbol. “It’s the letter
S
in the Mayan alphabet,” she explained. “
S
for Sarah.”

“A striking adornment,” said Willis, Sr.

“I told Henrique I’d treasure it always,” she said wistfully, tucking the chain out of sight. “The nine days I spent with him were the happiest days of my life.”

“And yet,” Willis, Sr., observed, “you do not appear to be happy.”

Sally reacted like a guilty schoolgirl, ducking her head and fixing her gaze on the floor.

“I haven’t quite told you everything,” she said, in a subdued voice.

“I thought not,” said Willis, Sr. “Pray continue.”

Sally cleared her throat. “You must understand, William, that once Kit and Nell were married, the only topic of conversation in Finch was Fairworth House. It was Fairworth House
this
and Fairworth House
that
, all day long, so naturally, Fairworth House was very much on my mind when I went away to Mexico.” She kept her head down and clasped her hands together in her lap. “Which is why, when Henrique asked me where I lived, I told him ... I told him ...”

“You told Señor Cocinero that you live in Fairworth House?” Willis, Sr., hazarded.

“It just popped out!” Sally blurted, blushing furiously. “I didn’t mean any harm by it, but one thing led to another and before I knew it, I’d told him that Fairworth was my family’s ancestral estate and I ... I invited him to drop in if he ever came to England.” She looked pleadingly at Willis, Sr. “It seemed like the sort of thing rich people did. How was I to know that he’d
accept
my invitation?”

Sally burst into tears again. I patted her back, offered her tissues, and exchanged astonished glances with Bill, who was sitting in rapt attention on the edge of his chair.

“I had a letter from him this morning,” Sally managed shakily, when her sobs had subsided.

“How?” Willis, Sr., inquired.

“Beg pardon?” asked Sally.

“How did he send a letter to you?” he clarified. “If Señor Cocinero addressed a letter to Lady Sarah Pyne of Fairworth Hall, surely it would have come to me rather than to you.”

“Oh.” Sally’s face went scarlet and she stared at her hands. “I told Henrique that the villagers call me Sally—Sally of Finch—because I’m not a la-di-dah sort of snooty-nose who needs to show off her title all the time. He addressed the letter ‘To Sally of Finch’ even though he insisted on calling me Lady Sarah—to give me my proper due, he said. He’s s-such a g-gentleman!”

Another teary downpour ensued, but it passed fairly quickly.

“As I was saying,” Sally went on, dropping another wad of damp tissues into the wastebasket, “I had a letter from Henrique this morning. He arrived in England a week ago. He’s touring the English countryside and he thinks it’ll be such fun to spend three days at Fairworth on his way to Stratford.” She gasped. “He’ll be here on Monday!”

“Which leaves you one full day to prepare for his arrival,” Willis, Sr., observed.

“How can I prepare for his arrival?” Sally wailed. “Henrique thinks I’m a grand lady who lives in a grand house. What will he think of me if he finds out who I really am?”

“He may be enchanted,” said Willis, Sr.

“Don’t be daft,” Sally said, shaking her head mournfully. “He’ll think I’m a big fat liar, because that’s what I am. What’s worse, he might think I’m some sort of
gold digger
, which I’m
not
. I may not be a grand lady, but I’m not a pauper.”

“Of course not,” murmured Willis, Sr.

“I could stand Henrique thinking ill of me,” Sally said, twisting her hands in her lap. “It’s what I deserve. But if word gets out about my little ... charade ... I’ll never be able to hold my head high in Finch again. I’ll be a
laughingstock
, William. I’ll be the butt of jokes from now until the end of time. Peggy Taxman will
never
let me live it down. I’ll always be Silly Sally, the ridiculous woman who put on airs and graces because she was too ashamed to be herself.” She caught her breath and blinked back a fresh batch of tears. “I know how foolish I’ve been, William, but I won’t be able to bear it if everyone else knows, too.” She swallowed hard. “I’ll have no choice. I’ll have to leave Finch.”

There was a pregnant pause. My eyes swiveled back and forth between Sally and Willis, Sr. I had absolutely no idea what would happen next. The suspense was delicious.

After what seemed an age, Willis, Sr., spoke.

“We must not allow that to happen,” he said.

Sally pressed a hand to her mouth and peered at Willis, Sr., as if he were her last hope of salvation.

“Finch would be greatly diminished if it were to lose your excellent jam doughnuts, your skills as a needlewoman, and your effervescent personality, Mrs. Pyne.” Willis, Sr., leaned back in his chair and tented his fingers over his immaculate waistcoat. “You must leave the problem with me. I will contact you as soon as I have devised a satisfactory solution to it. In the meantime, you are to remain incommunicado.”

Sally blinked uncomprehendingly.

“You are not at all well, Mrs. Pyne,” Willis, Sr., reminded her. “You are certainly too ill to receive visitors. You must remain sequestered in your sickroom, with the curtains drawn, until I telephone you. Do you understand?”

Sally nodded eagerly. “I’ll keep out of sight. Rainey’ll tell everyone I’m sick as a pig.”

“A granddaughter can be a great support in times of strife.” Willis, Sr., consulted his pocket watch. “I believe our business is finished for the moment, Mrs. Pyne. Please allow my son to escort you home.”

“No, thank you,” Sally said, getting swiftly to her feet. “I’ll go back along the riverbank, the way I came. One person makes less noise than two.”

“In that case, I will bid you good night,” said Willis, Sr. “Get some sleep, Mrs. Pyne. I will be in touch. Lori? Will you see our guest out?”

“No need.” Sally motioned toward the French doors. “I’ll slip out through the garden. Good night, William. And
thank you
.” She scurried across the room and was gone in a swish of draperies.

Bill crossed to sit in the chair Sally had vacated.

“I’m glad she mentioned the river,” he said, grinning. “I was wondering where the mud came from. Well, well, well ...” He gave a low whistle. “Who’d’ve thunk it? Sally Pyne, femme fatale.”

“It’s not funny,” I scolded. “Sally has good reason to worry about the villagers. They’ll make her life a misery if they find out what she’s done.”

“They will,” he agreed. “Sally’s dug a pretty deep hole for herself.” He favored Willis, Sr., with a speculative gaze. “It sounds as though you intend to jump in with her, Father. What are you going to do?”

“I am going to go to bed,” Willis, Sr., replied firmly. “I suggest that you do the same. We will reconvene here after church tomorrow—later today, that is—to devise a stratagem that will allow Mrs. Pyne to maintain both her friendship with Señor Cocinero and her standing in the community.” He leaned forward, and though he addressed Bill and me, he looked only at me. “I wish to state once again, to both of you, that whatever is said in this room is said in the
strictest confidence
.”

“My lips are zipped,” I said, “and your son’s a lawyer—he’s trained to keep his trap shut.”

“I’m ready to shut my eyes as well,” said Bill, yawning. “Come on, Lori. Kit and Nell must think we’ve forgotten about them.”

I glanced at my watch as we said good night to Willis, Sr. Although it was two o’clock in the morning, I still had enough energy to complete one more vitally important task. Bill could sail off to dreamland when we reached the cottage, but I planned to make a small detour.

I needed to speak with Aunt Dimity.

Five

Nell Smith was awake and absorbed ina bookwhen Bill and I walked into our living room. She sat in the chintz armchair near the hearth, bathed in the pool of light cast by a single lamp.

Nell’s beauty never failed to astound me, but it had somehow become even more ethereal since her marriage. The nimbus of soft golden curls framing her flawless oval face seemed to glow with a brightness that rivaled the sun’s, and her midnight-blue eyes, darker and deeper than moonlit wells, were filled with a quiet contentment most souls yearn for but seldom find. The aura of happiness surrounding her was almost palpable.

Kit, who was every bit as beautiful as his young wife, was asleep with Stanley on the sofa, but he woke with a start when the sleek black cat used him as a trampoline to reach Bill. As Kit sat up and rubbed his eyes, Stanley wove in and out of Bill’s legs, purring ecstatically. Stanley was very fond of me and the twins, but he adored Bill.

“Must’ve dozed off,” Kit said, running a hand over his short crop of prematurely gray hair. “Did William enjoy his party?”

“Very much,” I replied. “I’m sorry we’re so late. A pair of potential employees arrived just after midnight and we wanted to stick around until William finished interviewing them.”

“What’s the verdict?” Kit asked.

“They’re in,” I announced. “Deirdre Donovan is William’s cook/ housekeeper. Her husband, Declan, will look after the garden and fix things that need fixing around the house.”

“You must be relieved,” said Nell, with a knowing look.

“I’m over the moon,” I conceded. “Now that William has solved his servant problem, I can get back to my usual routine.”

“I’m glad he’s not alone anymore,” Nell said thoughtfully. “Fairworth is too big for one person.”

“I never liked the thought of him staying there by himself,” I agreed. “I’ll sleep better, knowing that Deirdre and Declan are on hand to look after him. Incidentally, William wants
everyone
to know that the Donovans are in charge of hiring extra help.”

“In other words,” Bill interjected, “he’s posted guards at the gates.”

Nell’s eyes twinkled merrily and Kit laughed out loud. They were aware of the Handmaiden situation.

“Wise man,” said Kit. “There’s such a thing as having too much company.”

“We’ll spread the word,” Nell promised.

She set her book aside, uncurled her long, slender legs, and rose gracefully from the chintz armchair, then put an exquisite hand out to her husband, who took it and got to his feet.

“We’ll be off,” said Kit, entwining his fingers with Nell’s. “Will and Rob were as good as gold, by the way.”

“They always are, when they’re with you,” Bill said dryly. “It helps that you’re their riding instructors. It gives you the kind of clout mere parents can only dream of.”

We thanked Kit and Nell profusely and watched from the doorstep as they made their way down the flagstone path to their classic gray Land Rover. They were such an enchanting couple that it was hard to look away.

“Ah, young love,” I said with a heartfelt sigh as they drove off.

Bill closed the door and put his arms around me.

“Old love’s not so bad,” he observed.

“Not bad at all,” I agreed, kissing him.

“I’m for bed,” he said, “but something tells me that you have other plans.”

“You don’t mind, do you?” I asked.

“Since you won’t be able to concentrate on anything until you finish your business in the study,” he said, “no, I don’t mind. I’ll look in on the boys before I hit the sack. Don’t be too long.” He nuzzled my neck in a way that made it quite difficult for me to let him go to bed alone, then went upstairs. Stanley gave my leg a friendly rub before padding faithfully after his favorite human.