Nancy Atherton - Aunt Dimity and the Duke

Peter ran to her. “Did you see her, Emma?” he asked, breathless with excitement. “Did you see the window?”

“I saw it last night,” Emma assured him. “I’m so happy for you, Peter. And you should be very proud of yourself.”

Peter dug the toe of his boot into the gravel, blushing shyly. He hesitated, then looked up at Emma, as though seeking reassurance. “Everything’ll be all right now, won’t it?”

“Yes,” Emma declared, going down on her padded knees to envelop him in a bear hug. “Everything will be fine.”

The boy hugged her back, wriggled out of her arms, and went squelching through the mud, calling for Bantry, while Nell remained high and dry on the gravel path, staring thoughtfully at the arbor.

“Don’t worry, Emma,” she said finally. “Bertie says that, if Grandmother could do it, so can you.”

Emma looked at her, perplexed. “How did Bertie know—” She broke off as she caught sight of the next trio of arrivals.

Kate Cole had been lured down from the south tower, but Emma suspected that Syd rather than Grayson had persuaded her to unlock the door. The redoubtable business manager had placed himself between an icy Kate and an increasingly frustrated Grayson.

“Please tell His Royal Highness that I’m here at Em-ma’s request and that I have no intention of remaining in his company for one minute longer than is absolutely necessary.”

“Kate says—” Syd began.

“Confound it, Kate,” the duke grumbled. “I’ve said I was sorry. I don’t know what more—”

“Sorry!” Kate snapped. “Please inform Lord High-and-Mighty that he doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”

“Kate says—”

“Blast, blast, blast,” Grayson muttered.

Gash, Bantry, and Peter had returned with the ladder, and Emma directed them to lean it against the arbor. A car door slammed in the distance, and she wondered fleetingly if Newland had gotten word that something odd was going on and driven up from the gatehouse to investigate. Then she focused her attention on making sure the ladder was planted securely on the graveled path. The top rung reached only to the bottom of the dome, but the decorative metalwork would provide plenty of hand- and footholds. As she helped the men maneuver the ladder into place, the three-way conversation continued behind them.

“... and you can inform His Gracelessness that I wouldn’t touch that ring to save my life.”

“Kate wants me to tell you—”

“It wasn’t just the ring,” Grayson expostulated. “Don’t you understand, Kate? I couldn’t ask you to marry me until the hall was put to rights. How could I ask you to share my life when I had so little to offer?”

“Please tell—”

“Enough already!” Syd held up his hand to silence Kate, then turned to the duke. “You’re a swell guy, Duke, but if I was thirty years younger, I’d poke you in the nose. What do you mean, you had nothing to offer? You think this beautiful lady gives a good goddamn about a ring or a fancy-schmantzy house? You hadda heart to give her, you doofus! You had hopes and dreams, am I right?”

“That’s all very pretty, Syd, and I appreciate your concern, but one can’t live on—” The duke stopped short. His gaze wavered for a second, then seemed to focus on thin air. “Good Lord,” he said, half to himself. “Whatever would Aunt Dimity say if she heard me spouting such nonsense?” He blinked dazedly, and his hand drifted to the knot in his tie. “You’re quite right, Syd. I’ve been so wrapped up in details that I seem to have forgotten the point of it all. I, of all people, should have known that one can live on dreams. Oh, Kate ... I am so dreadfully sorry.” He bowed his head, and Syd edged out of the way as Kate slowly unfolded her arms and put a tentative hand on Grayson’s shoulder.

“Emma!” Syd hollered, coming to stand with the others at the foot of the ladder. “You tryin’ to break your neck?”

Emma had reached the top rung and was stepping onto the narrow wrought-iron ledge at the base of the dome. “I’m fine, Syd,” she called down. “Don’t worry.”

“What, me worry?” Syd replied.

“Have a care, now, Miss Emma,” Bantry said. “Them boots of yours is pretty slick, remember.”

“Do be careful, Miss Emma,” Hallard urged.

“I would’ve gone up for you, Miss Emma,” Gash added.

The mutterings of concern increased until Nell stunned everyone to silence by shouting: “Pipe down, you palookas!”

Emma smiled gratefully at the little girl, and continued her climb. The view from the top of the arbor’s dome was spectacular. Sitting with her feet braced in the twining wrought iron, Emma could see the chapel, the beacon, and the sprawling mass of Penford Hall. She saw that old Bert Potts had come up from the village to repair the damage done to his beloved apple trees. And she saw, much to her surprise, an exquisitely coiffed and elegantly robed Susannah sitting in a wheelchair on the terrace, with Nurse Tharby looking on while Nanny Cole waved sheets of sketching paper and spoke emphatically. Emma grinned, then bent to examine the foot-high, dome-shaped finial.

Odd pieces of pewter-colored tin and four slender panes of glass had been cleverly hidden inside the finial, attached to the wrought iron by thin strands of dark wire that had been virtually invisible from the ground. Elated, Emma fitted the wrench to the black bolt and tightened its grip. It took a few taps with the hammer to loosen the bolt, but the oil helped, and soon Emma was able to reach in and unscrew the bolt by hand.

After tossing the tools, the oilcan, and the bolt down to Gash, Emma pulled the finial into her lap, and looked up in triumph, but nearly lost her balance as she saw Derek step out onto the terrace. He glanced in her direction, froze, then ducked his head and turned to go back into the hall.

“Wait!” Emma yelled. She pointed to the finial in her lap. “I’ve found the lantern!”

Derek swung around, open-mouthed, and ran down the steps. Inside the banquet hall, pandemonium erupted. The air rang with cries of amazed delight as Bantry scrambled up the ladder to take the heavy finial from Emma and pass it carefully to Gash, who carried it to the ground and placed it on the top step of the birdcage arbor, shouting for Hallard to bring his toolbox. Peter hopped from one foot to another, explaining the significance of Emma’s discovery to a bewildered Syd, and Kate left Grayson’s side to help hold the ladder as Bantry and Emma descended. A cheer went up as Emma’s feet touched the ground, and many hands reached out to shake hers. Emma quickly pointed out that it was Nell who had first located the source of the miraculous light, and Nell was equally quick to give full credit to Bertie.

“I fell asleep,” she explained, “but Bertie woke me up when he saw—Papa!” Nell cried, spying her father standing in the doorway. As she ran to greet him, Peter broke off his conversation with Syd and bounded down the gravel path to throw his arms around his father’s waist. Derek looked down at his children, swallowed hard, then knelt and pulled them to him, hugging them so fiercely that Nell was forced to caution him against squashing Bertie. Emma watched Derek’s gray head bend urgently over the dark one and the light; then she turned away, unwilling to intrude.

The excited babble of voices had faded. There was a clatter and a clank as Gash pushed the pieces of the dismantled finial aside, and the others fell back a step as he lifted the reassembled tin lantern by its wire handle and placed it squarely on the top step of the arbor.

“That about does it,” he said, wiping his hands on a bit of rag. He tossed his tools into the toolbox and closed the lid, got to his feet, and stepped away from the lantern. Wordlessly, he turned to face the duke.