Aunt Dimity and the Family Tree (13 page)

Sally ducked her head guiltily.

“Sorry, William,” she said, reverting to her normal accent. “It was the shock of seeing him again. I’ll try to be more standoffish. The conservatory will do for brunch, though, won’t it? All those ferns and things will protect us from prying eyes.” She got to her feet. “If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen with Deirdre, freshening up those leftover canapés. Henrique’s partial to caviar. A tot of champagne wouldn’t do us any harm, either. I’ll see if there’s a bottle in the fridge. Champagne should be served cold, you know. Maybe I’ll mix up a pitcher of mimosas. ...”

Sally bustled through the door to the dining room in a blur of orange and yellow, and Willis, Sr., sat down heavily on the settee.

“Tough morning?” I asked sympathetically, sitting beside him.

“The gown,” he said, “was Lady Sarah’s choice. Mrs. Donovan and I attempted to dissuade her from wearing such an outlandish costume, but Lady Sarah was adamant.”

“It’s not so bad,” I said. “The colors are very, er, tropical.”

“And the rhinestones?” said Willis, Sr.

“A bit twinkly for a quiet Monday morning at home,” I conceded, “but not hideous.”

“Lady Sarah insisted on the tiara as well,” Willis, Sr., went on. “It appears that her impression of aristocratic attire has been gained entirely from comic books.” He shook his head. “I cannot bring myself to discuss her accent except to say that it is strikingly original. I do not believe that it has ever been heard before on this or any other planet.”

“Why did you move the settee?” I asked, hoping to distract him from Sally’s myriad shortcomings.

“Has the settee been moved?” Willis, Sr., said dully.

“Yes,” I said. “It was in front of the window when I spoke with you yesterday morning. Now it’s closer to the fireplace.”

“I failed to notice the change,” Willis, Sr., admitted wearily. “I was blinded, no doubt, by Lady Sarah’s rhinestones.”

“Buck up, William,” I said bracingly. “It’ll all be over by Wednesday.”

“Will it?” he retorted, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “I fear that Lady Sarah will find it more difficult to spurn her swain than I had anticipated.”

“He’s pretty hard to resist,” I observed. “And he certainly seems to be smitten with her.”

“‘Still to us at twilight comes love’s old sweet song,’” he murmured. “James Joyce.
Ulysses
,” he added, identifying the quotation.

“I wouldn’t say that Sally and Henrique are in their twilight years,” I objected.

“Perhaps not,” he said. “But love’s old sweet song is in the air and I do not know how to silence it.”

“Play it by ear,” I suggested. “Henrique may be eager to leave after being cooped up here for a couple of days.”

“He will no doubt find it trying to subsist on a diet of champagne and caviar,” Willis, Sr., said dryly.

“Maybe the caviar’s gone off,” I said brightly. “Nothing gets rid of an unwanted guest faster than a good, old-fashioned case of food poisoning.”

Willis, Sr., gave me a reproving glance.

“I do not wish to put Señor Cocinero in the hospital, Lori,” he said. “I wish to put him on the next flight bound for Mexico City.”

“Itching powder between his bed sheets?” I suggested.

Willis, Sr., smiled wanly, then peered down at the settee. “I cannot imagine why Lady Sarah felt the need to rearrange my furniture.”

“You should tell her to leave everything where you put it,” I said. “Otherwise you’ll be tripping over chairs and bumping into bureaus every time you turn around.”

An arrested expression crossed Willis, Sr.’s face.

“I barked my shin on a chair in the drawing room earlier this morning” he said. “It, too, had been moved from its original position.”

“I rest my case,” I said.

“I shall have a word with Lady Sarah before the day is out,” Willis, Sr., said decisively, “assuming, of course, that I can get a word in edgewise.”

The door to the entrance hall opened and Sally came into the morning room with Henrique following close behind her. She looked ecstatic.

“Wonderful news, everyone,” she said, beaming at us. “Henrique has rearranged his travel schedule. He’ll be able to stay at Fairworth for a
whole week
! Isn’t it grand?”

Willis, Sr.’s mild gray eyes flashed dangerously as he rose from the settee. The prospect of expanding Henrique’s visit from three days to seven clearly did not sit well with him.

“Lady Sarah,” he said in clipped tones. “I have a matter of some urgency to discuss with you. Will you join me in the study?
This instant?
”

The set of his jaw as he swept Sally from the room told me that he would have no trouble getting a word in edgewise.

Ten

Willis, Sr., didn’t slam the door behind him, but he closed it very firmly. Sally’s expression as she left the morning room ahead of him was that of a condemned prisoner about to face a firing squad. She’d apparently realized just how bad an idea it was to announce a sudden change of plans without consulting Willis, Sr., beforehand.

I searched my mind for a way to excuse their abrupt departure, but Henrique saved me the trouble.

“Estate business,” he said knowingly. “The landed gentry have a great many obligations to fulfill. Lady Sarah must not neglect her duties while I am here.”

“Lady Sarah is a conscientious land owner,” I said, nodding.

“Her tenants are fortunate,” he commented.

“Tenants?” I said uncertainly.

“Is it not the right word?” Henrique frowned. “I refer to those estate workers who lease their cottages from Lady Sarah. She tells me of the many people who rely on her for the housing and the employment.”

“Oh,
those
tenants ... ,” I said, as if his words weren’t news to me. Sally had evidently given him the impression that Fairworth was a feudal estate populated by peasants who shouted “Hoorah!” as she paraded past their humble dwellings in her gilded carriage. “Yes, they’re very lucky to have such a generous patroness.”

“Very lucky indeed,” said Henrique.

He clasped his hands behind his back and made his way slowly around the room, pausing to admire the oil paintings on the walls, the porcelain figurines on the mantel, and the cluster of colorful paperweights on the writing table.

“Fairworth is a treasure house,” he said finally, with an appreciative sigh. “You will show more of its treasures to me while we wait for Lady Sarah to complete her urgent business?”

I pictured Willis, Sr., reading the riot act to Sally in his study and decided to keep as many walls as possible between him and Henrique. Although Willis, Sr., had never raised his voice in my presence, his behavior of late had been so unpredictable—and Sally had tested his patience so severely—that I didn’t want to take any chances. Henrique might feel the need to defend his
querida
—possibly with dueling pistols at dawn—if he overheard Lady Sarah’s American cousin hollering at her.

“I’m sure that Lady Sarah would prefer to show you the house herself,” I said. “But I’ll be happy to show you the grounds.”

“It will be well to walk in the English countryside before brunch,” he said equably. “We will work up
un apetito
.”

I pressed the buzzer underneath the mantel shelf to summon Deirdre, who came in from the dining room wearing a crisply starched apron over her white shirtdress.

“Please tell my father-in-law and Lady Sarah that Señor Cocinero and I have gone for a walk,” I said.

“Mr. Cocinero will want his hat,” she said promptly. “It’s in the cloakroom, sir. I’ll get it for you.”

“Don’t bother,” I told her. “I’ll find it.”

“Brunch will be served in approximately twenty minutes,” she informed me.

“We’ll make it a short walk,” I assured her.

Henrique and I retrieved his hat from the cloakroom and let ourselves out through the front door. I steered him into the garden in which Rainey Dawson had accosted me on the night of the housewarming party, not because it was attractive or interesting, but because it was on the opposite side of the house from the study. I pointed out the conservatory’s intricate ironwork and the louvered glass panes that allowed air to flow through it, and described how the flower beds within the box hedges would look after a year’s growth.

“It will be as charming as the woman who planned it,” said Henrique. “Lady Sarah is truly an artist. I shall return a year from now, perhaps, to see her vision in full bloom.”

“Lady Sarah won’t be here next year,” I said swiftly. “She’ll be in America. She spends every other summer in America, with her American relatives.”

“A pity. I would love to see her garden in all its glory.” Henrique peered toward the stables, where Declan Donovan was forking soiled straw into a wheelbarrow. “Does Lady Sarah ride as well? But of course she does,” he went on, answering his own question. “Englishwomen of noble birth learn to ride at a young age, I think.”

As far as I knew, Sally’s plump foot had never come within twenty yards of a stirrup, but if Henrique wanted to imagine her in leather boots and a velvet jacket, sailing over fences on a sleek, well-muscled hunter, who was I to disabuse him?

“A neighbor is boarding her horses at the moment,” I said, to explain why the stable building and the pasture beyond it were devoid of livestock. “Lady Sarah is in the process of renovating her stables.”

“Always she is improving her property,” Henrique said approvingly. “Shall we walk through the meadow? The English wildflowers are very beautiful, I think.”

We left the garden and strolled through the meadow behind Fairworth House, using the bridle path Willis, Sr., had laid out for Will and Rob. If we’d continued along the path, we would have ended up at the Anscombe Manor stables, but we’d walked no more than fifty paces when Henrique pulled a large white handkerchief from his breast pocket and used it to mop his sweating brow.

“As we say in my homeland, the sun grows hotter as the morning grows older.” He waved his handkerchief toward the wooded corner of the estate. “Shall we seek the cool shade beneath the trees?”

I glanced at my watch. “It might be better to seek the cool shade inside the house, Henrique. Mrs. Donovan will serve brunch soon and we don’t want to keep Lady Sarah waiting.”

“Indeed not,” he agreed fervently. “A thoughtful guest never keeps his hostess waiting.”

We retraced our steps to the garden, where we were greeted by a stern-faced Willis, Sr., and a red-nosed, watery-eyed, and thoroughly chastened Sally Pyne. Deirdre Donovan looked on from the conservatory, as if awaiting her cue to enter the scene.

“Lady Sarah,” said Henrique. “Your business goes well, I hope? While you work, Lori and I play. We take a small tour of your beautiful property. The garden, the meadow, the stables, the woods—they are like the pictures from a calendar.”

I gave the stubby, disconnected box hedges a puzzled glance and wondered what kind of calendar would feature them.

“Thank you, Henrique,” said Sally, looking everywhere but at her guest. “It’s nice of you to say so.”

“Now I know why you so love this place of your birth,” said Henrique. “
Es un paraiso
.”

He bent to kiss her hand, but she pulled it away before his lips touched it.

“You’re very kind, Henrique,” she said, tucking both of her hands behind her back, “but I’m afraid I have some unpleasant news to share with you.” She glanced briefly at Willis, Sr., and swallowed hard before continuing, “I’m very sorry to say it, but I was mistaken when I told you that you could stay here until next week. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave Fairworth House on Thursday.”

As the original plan had called for Henrique to leave on Wednesday, Sally had, it seemed, wangled one extra day out of Willis, Sr. I suspected that a bout of strategic weeping had reddened her nose and secured her a little more time with her Mexican swain.

“My cousin has brought to my attention a prior engagement,” she went on, as if she were reciting a memorized speech, “which will take both of us away from home on Thursday, when Fairworth House will be fumigated.”

“Fumigated?” Henrique’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “This we do in Mexico, but I did not know it was done in England.”

“It is sometimes necessary,” Sally said. “Fairworth has a terrible infestation of, of—”

“Deathwatch beetles,” Willis, Sr., inserted.

“Deathwatch beetles,” Sally repeated.

“Deathwatch beetles!” exclaimed Henrique, sounding both shocked and alarmed. “This is very bad news indeed. The deathwatch beetle is no joke, Lady Sarah. He eats the bones of the house and then—
poof!
—no more house. Fumigation is needed to stop him.”

“It’s needed,” Sally agreed sadly. “And that’s why you can’t stay here, Henrique. Fairworth’ll be like a gas chamber.”

“If you are not here,
querida
,” Henrique said softly, “why would I wish to stay? Think no more of it. I will be content to leave on Thursday.”

“I’m terribly sorry for the mix-up,” Sally mumbled, staring disconsolately at the ground.

“Do not apologize,” said Henrique. “A lady of such importance cannot be expected to remember every small thing. This is why she has her amiable cousin.” He nodded at Willis, Sr., then smiled warmly at Sally. “Life is short, Lady Sarah. We will not spoil it with regrets. We will make the most of the time we have.”

“Yes,” Sally murmured, and as she lifted her gaze to meet his, her entire body swayed in his direction. “We will make the most of the time we have.”

Perhaps by coincidence, the conservatory door swung open before Sally could sway all the way into Henrique’s arms. She straightened with a jerk, glanced guiltily at Willis, Sr., and took a tiny step back from Henrique.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Deirdre announced, “brunch is served.”

“Lady Sarah, if you will allow me?” said Willis, Sr., offering his arm to her. “Señor Cocinero will escort Lori.”

I took Henrique’s arm and felt an unexpected surge of pity for Willis, Sr. He could try every trick in the book to keep Henrique and Sally apart, but I knew of no power on earth that could silence love’s old sweet song.