“Is that when you boarded up the attic?” Kit asked.
Charlotte turned to him and nodded. “I shut off the central heating and turned off all but the most essential lights as well, to conserve energy and keep the bills low.”
“And you sold the fallow deer for the same reason,” said Kit.
“She kept the herd as long as she could, because her mother liked them,” Rory piped up.
“The deer were among the few things that made my mother smile,” Charlotte said. “But after she died, it was a luxury I couldn’t afford.”
“Could’ve sold Aldercot,” Rory mumbled.
“Yes,” Charlotte agreed, “I could have sold the hall. I’ve been on the verge of doing so many, many times. But my parents and my brother are buried in the cemetery. Who would look after their graves if I left Aldercot?”
“You’ll never have to leave Aldercot,” said Leo, putting his arm around her, “and you’ll never want for luxuries again. We’ll buy a herd of elephants, if you like, and we’ll fill the place with the finest furnishings to be had. We’ll light it up like a Christmas tree and turn the central heating up to sizzle, and we’ll hire enough staff so that you’ll never have to lift a finger. Whatever you want, you’ll have.”
Kit’s eyebrows rose at the exact same moment as mine. Leo caught our skeptical expressions and chuckled.
“I made a few bob Down Under,” he said. “A few million bob, in fact. Your old uncle’s filthy, stinking rich, Kit.”
“But you live in a…a tin can,” I managed.
“I like living rough every once in a while,” said Leo. “It reminds me of where I started, keeps me from getting too full of myself. But you can have too much of a good thing. When that ruddy storm hit, I hightailed it to Oxford and spent the weekend at the Randolph, being wined and dined by one of my bankers. It made a nice change.”
I picked my jaw up from my lap and tried to revise my image of Leo, but it would take more than a few minutes to move him from St. Benedict’s Hostel for Transient Men to one of the poshest hotels in all of England. In the meantime Kit carried on tying up loose ends I was too embarrassed to even think about.
“When Lori and I were at Aldercot the other day,” Kit said, “we thought we heard someone moving around upstairs. It seemed a bit odd, because Mr. Bellamy and Mrs. Harcourt were downstairs, in the kitchen.”
“It must have been Jacqueline,” Charlotte said readily. “She’s a photographer, you know. She uses the attic as a darkroom, and she locks the door so Bellamy won’t walk in on her and ruin whatever she’s developing. We leave the lights on in the stairwell so she can find her way there. One must make some accommodations to the staff, and she really is quite talented.”
I sank even lower in my chair.
Charlotte smoothed her skirt. “I didn’t come here today to talk about myself, though I suppose, under the circumstances, it couldn’t be helped—Leo and I have a lot of catching up to do. But I came here to speak of something else. There’s something I must tell you, Kit.” She took Leo’s hand in hers. “Something we both must tell you.”
“Are you sure?” asked Leo.
“Yes.” Charlotte stroked his hand. “I know that Amy swore us to secrecy, but I can’t live with secrets anymore. You and I have paid too high a price for them. We must tell Kit the truth.”
Leo kissed her on the side of the head. “I’m with you all the way, love, but Kit”—he turned his bright blue eyes on his nephew—“had better buckle his seat belt, because he’s in for a few jolts.”
“I’m tougher than I look, Uncle Leo,” said Kit.
“You’d better be,” said Leo. “Because the truth of it is, your mother made a big mistake when she married Sir Miles. She knew it before they were back from the honeymoon.”
“He was quite a bit older than she was,” Kit acknowledged.
“Their problems had nothing to do with age,” Leo said firmly.
“Sir Miles was a difficult man,” Charlotte interjected. “He went into terrible rages, then sank into deep depressions.” She hesitated, then said carefully, “He struck your mother on several occasions.”
Kit stared at her, aghast.
“It’s true,” said Leo. “I had to pull him off her a couple of times.”
“W-why did she stay?” Kit stammered.
“Your father’s troubles weren’t his fault,” Charlotte explained. “He was ill. Amy hoped that she could help him.”
“But my father never raised a hand to me,” said Kit. “He showed me nothing but kindness.”
“Then remember him that way,” Charlotte urged. “But the truth of the matter is that his second wife was able to control him with new and more effective medications, most of the time. She kept you away from him during his bad spells.”
“Your mother wasn’t alone during the rough times she had with him, Kit,” said Leo. “I told you last night, Charlotte was Amy’s best mate. Aldercot Hall was a sanctuary for her. She could always find a bit of peace there.”
“And one day,” said Charlotte, “she found my brother. He was home for a few months from his travels, and he got to know Amy very well.”
“They were birds of a feather,” said Leo. “Good, kind, gentle souls, both of them. Always trying to help people.”
“They were very much alike,” Charlotte agreed. “And she was so miserable and he felt so sorry for her that I suppose it was inevitable that they should fall hopelessly in love.”
Leo leaned forward in his chair. “The thing is, Kit—”
“No,” Charlotte interrupted. “Let me tell him.”
“Tell me what?” Kit said tautly.
Charlotte focused her soft gray eyes directly on Kit’s face.
“My brother’s name was Christopher,” she said. “You’re his son.”
For a moment the only sound I could hear was the slow rasp of Rory’s breathing. No one moved. No one spoke. Even the creatures in the clearing had fallen silent. Then a bird chirped, and Kit shifted his gaze to the open window.
“I’m not Sir Miles Anscombe’s son?” he said slowly.
“No,” said Charlotte. “You are the son of Amy Sutherland and Christopher DuCaral.”
I put a hand to my head as I realized why Ruth and Louise Pym had refused to talk about Christopher’s shameful desires. He’d fathered a child by another man’s wife—a child, moreover, who’d grown into a man they both knew and loved. They’d thought it would hurt Kit to learn the truth about his parentage. They couldn’t have known that the truth would set him free.
Kit stood abruptly and said, “I have to leave.”
“Look here, mate,” Leo began.
“I have to leave,” Kit repeated, more urgently. He snatched his pack from the floor and strode out of the parlor.
“I knew it would be a shock for him,” Charlotte said anxiously.
“It just may be the best shock he’ll ever have,” I said, scrambling to my feet. “Thanks for your hospitality, Rory. I’ll visit you again real soon.”
“Who’s going to clean up this mess?” Rory demanded, waving a hand toward the coffee table.
“Not me,” I said, and, grabbing my day pack, I tore after Kit.
I pounded after him all the way to Anscombe Manor and got to the stable-yard wall just in time to see him drop his pack on the graveled drive, vault over the riding ring’s fence, and charge straight through a dressage class Nell was conducting.
He took the reins from her hands and passed them to a student, then lifted her from the saddle and set her lightly on the ground. He removed her helmet, tossed it over his shoulder, and smoothed her golden curls back from her forehead. He ran his fingers along her brow, her cheeks, her jawline, her neck, like a blind man reading a face, and then he drew her close, wrapped his arms around her, and bent his head until his lips met hers.
Fireworks exploded, the earth quaked, and fluttering rose petals filled the air. Crowds cheered, peasants danced, and cannons roared in the distance. Chu
rch bells rang, angels sang, and a heart-shaped flock of snow-white doves soared above a glimmering rainbow and into the clear blue sky. And he was still kissing her.
I knew I was the only one who could see, hear, and feel the world rejoicing, but I didn’t mind. Sometimes it’s a good thing to have a vivid imagination.
Epilogue
The wedding took place two weeks before Christmas. St. George’s Church was decked out in poinsettias, white roses, and evergreen boughs and lit romantically with beeswax candles. Although many of the pews were unoccupied, those of us who were there made up for the sparse attendance by beaming at the happy couple with extra warmth. It may have taken them thirty-seven years to walk down the aisle, but they got there in the end, and the long journey made the arrival all the sweeter. Charlotte and Leo were the most radiant bride and groom I’d ever seen.
At the reception Leo used every ounce of Aussie charm he’d acquired during his long exile Down Under to persuade me to try a jammy biscuit. It turned out to be so scrumptious that I rewarded him with a sticky smooch on his weathered cheek, then ran down to the kitchen to get the recipe from Henrietta.
It took Leo less than six months to restore Aldercot Hall to its former glory, and though Charlotte wouldn’t allow him to waste money on the many outlandish luxuries he wished to heap upon her, she did allow him to refurbish the gardens, reopen the stables, and re-lay the bridle paths connecting Aldercot land to the Anscombe estate. Will and Rob ride there, under Kit’s supervision, every chance they get. They haven’t spotted any vampires lately, but they’re definitely on the lookout for a herd of elephants.
The house and grounds are still tended to by professional cleaning and landscaping crews, but Leo and Charlotte now use companies based in Upper Deeping instead of London, and they patronize local shops as well. Finch’s residents stopped thinking of Aldercot as the dark side of the moon when the Sutherlands extended the hand of friendship—as well as their considerable purchasing power—from one valley to the other.
Leo hired three live-in maids in order to make his most ingenious scheme work. Aldercot’s corridors have become a lot noisier since students started attending Henrietta’s cooking classes, Mr. Bellamy’s buttling courses, and Jacqueline’s seminars on nature photography. Charlotte jokingly refers to her once-silent home as Aldercot College, but the music she plays is as lively as the young people who dash up and down the hall’s well-lit and well-heated marble staircase.
Rory Tanner passed away in February, surrounded by his beloved birds and beasts, but he lived long enough to give Leo a few querulous tips on forest management. His cottage serves as the headquarters for a local conservation group, and Henrietta makes sure they keep the bowls, baths, and feeders properly filled.
Kit has done a lot of quiet thinking since Charlotte told him the truth about both of his fathers—the one who gave him life and the one who raised him—and he’s slowly adjusting to his new reality. He speaks of Sir Miles more freely now, without a trace of bitterness, but with sincere and heartfelt pity for a man driven by mental illness to abuse his own wife.
It’s helped Kit to have his newly discovered aunt and uncle living just over the hill. He’s learned a great deal about Christopher DuCaral from Charlotte and Leo, and so have I. I’ll leave it to the experts to decide if insanity can be passed down from father to son, but there’s no denying that Kit takes after the good, greathearted man Amy Sutherland loved.
When Kit becomes too introspective, Nell’s there to rescue him. Their understanding is so flawless that they seldom need to speak. A look, a touch is all she needs to bring him out of the shadows. I have no doubt that her love will heal every wound he’s ever suffered, but I wish she’d hurry up. My heart’s set on a June wedding, and I can hardly wait to see what their children will look like.
Nell was beautiful before Kit kissed her, but she’s gone so far beyond beautiful since then that I don’t know how to describe her. To compare her to Botticelli’s Venus now would be like comparing the Grand Canyon to a crack in the sidewalk. Her love for Kit surrounds her like a nimbus, and the coolness that once protected her has been replaced by a warmth that springs straight from her heart. No one can pass her without smiling, because she doesn’t hoard her happiness, she radiates it for all the world to see.
Nell’s happiness came at a price, however. A few days after the long-awaited kiss took place—in full view of everyone at the stables—Emma had to advertise for an entirely new crew of stable hands. Thankfully, it’s worked out for the best. The new boys work ten times harder than the old ones, because they are under no illusions about Nell’s availability.
I wish I could be proud of the fact that the new stable hands spend more time watching me than they spend ogling Nell, but the only reason they watch me is that they’ve never seen anyone ride as badly as I do. Old Toby is as patient as Kit, however, and with their help, and lots of practice, I may one day be able to ride from one end of the ring to the other without hearing snorts of laughter in the distance.
Little Matilda Lawrence’s nightmares have stopped, as have Clive Pickle’s excursions into his brother’s bedroom, and I’ve had an easier time dealing with Miss Archer since she came back from spring break with a blond perm and a tan. The twins liked her old look better, but on parent-teacher days I’d rather face a surfer chick than the bride of Dracula. I’ve developed a strong aversion to anything that reminds me of Rendor.
On the night before Bill came home from London, I sat down in the study for a chat with Aunt Dimity. I expected to dazzle her and Reginald with a dozen revelations, but most of them fizzled pathetically.
Aunt Dimity had, of course, figured out what was troubling Kit long before I had.
I’m sorry to disappoint you, Lori, but after everything you’d told me, I couldn’t help but conclude that Kit thought he was, or would soon be, mad. He declared himself unfit for marriage, described himself as deeply flawed, agreed that mental illness runs in families, and reacted badly when you mentioned the years he’d spent living on the streets. I didn’t know that he’d discovered a history of instability in the Anscombe family, but I knew what had happened to Sir Miles. It didn’t take much effort to fit the pieces of the puzzle together.
“Did you know that Christopher DuCaral was Kit’s father?” I asked.
I had my suspicions. Amy had spent a lot of time at Aldercot Hall, and she’d named the baby Christopher instead of Miles. I’m afraid it comes as no surprise to me to learn that her child was Christopher’s son.
“I suppose you already knew about Charlotte and Leo, too,” I said.
Everyone knew about Charlotte and Leo. It was the worst-kept secret in the county. I did not, however, know what had really happened on the night of their ill-starred elopement. When Lizzie Black told me that Leo had killed Maurice, I realized that something strange was afoot, because although Leo had vanished—as would a man guilty of murder—Maurice was very much alive. I’ve waited for nearly forty years to hear the truth, and I’m immensely grateful to you and Kit for unearthing it at last.
“I’m glad it worked out in the end for Leo and Charlotte,” I said. “It kept my ridiculous vampire hunt from being entirely pointless.”
Your vampire hunt may have been a bit ridiculous, Lori, but it certainly wasn’t pointless. It worked exactly as Bill and I hoped it would.
I reread the last line several times before asking Aunt Dimity to explain herself, which she did, in excruciating detail.
Bill didn’t believe you for one moment when you told him that you wouldn’t worry about Rendor. He knew that as soon as he left for London, you’d go looking for the figure Will and Rob had seen, and he decided to put your vampire hunt to good use.
“He set me up?” I said in disbelief.
He wasn’t alone. He enlisted my help, as well as Kit’s and Emma’s. I did what I could to encourage you—I told you what I know about vampires, I sent you to see Lizzie Black, and every time you started to come to your senses,
I inserted a note of doubt that would reawaken your concerns. Emma took over Kit’s duties at the stables so that Kit could accompany you. Bill was afraid that you might drive a stake through an innocent bird-watcher, and he counted on Kit to rein you in.
I glanced at Reginald, who seemed to be avoiding my eyes, and realized instantly that he, too, had been part of the cabal.
“You all set me up?” I said incredulously.
We had to do something to get through to you. You were taking the twins’ temperatures, peering down their throats, and palpating their glands so often that if they weren’t fundamentally levelheaded, they would have become hypochondriacs. You were calling the school nurse every morning to inquire about student illnesses and combing the news daily for reports on disasters and plagues. You were so drained by fear and worry that you never left the cottage. You neglected your neighbors, your volunteer activities, and your friends, because you had no energy to spare for them. We had to find a way to snap you out of your malaise.
“And you chose a vampire hunt?” I said, outraged.
No, Lori. You chose a vampire hunt. I simply went along with your choice in order to get you out of the cottage and focused on something other than nits and measles. I had no idea your search would lead you to a real mystery, one of far greater importance than the one you’d manufactured. If it hadn’t been for your vampire hunt, Charlotte and Leo might never have been reunited.
“But…you set me up!” I exclaimed indignantly.
Yes, I did. Consider it the bucket of cold water you needed to release you from your hysteria.
I wanted to sulk and be snippy, but I let those impulses go. My darling husband, my two dearest friends, and my most trusted confidante had set me up, but they’d done so in order to help me, and their underhanded, conniving, and thoroughly loving plan had worked. I hadn’t palpated the twins’ glands once since I’d started looking for Rendor, and I was sure that the school nurse had marked her calendar with big smiley-faces to celebrate each day that had gone by without a frantic call from me.
Aunt Dimity: Vampire Hunter Page 23
