Nancy Atherton - Aunt Dimity's Good Deed

“I stayed up all night, reading Sir Williston’s diary and putting the pieces together. In the morning, I came to a decision. I’d pay Sally for her silence and conceal everything else I’d discovered.” Gerald’s head dropped to his chest. “I had no choice.”

“You have always had a choice, my boy,” Willis, Sr., said, unmoved.

Gerald looked utterly wretched, sitting all by himself on the couch. My throat grew suddenly small and aching, and without pausing to think, I went to him; when he reached out blindly for my hand, I gave it to him.

“William’s right,” I said. “You did have a choice. And you chose to protect Lucy.”

Gerald nodded miserably. “She loves the firm as much as she loves Julia Louise. To reveal Arthur’s errors would ruin one, and to reveal what I’d found in that box would destroy the other. I couldn’t do that. Not to Lucy.”

“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.

31.

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.”