“I never doubted it.” I smiled briefly, then gazed pensively into the fire. “The Pyms have entrusted me with what feels like a huge responsibility, Dimity. Why do you suppose they picked me? ”
I can think of several reasons, but you cited the most important one. The Pyms trust you, Lori. They know that you won’t rest until you’ve carried out their wishes. They selected you because you’re demanding, tenacious, and inquisitive.
“In other words,” I said dryly, “I’m bossy, bullheaded, and nosy.”
You have a host of qualities the Pyms admire, my dear. They are depending on you to use those qualities to fulfill their last request.
“I’ll give it my best shot,” I said. “But will it be good enough? What if they die before I find Aubrey’s grave?”
You mustn’t allow “what-ifs” to discourage you, Lori. Where there’s life, there’s hope, and the Pyms are—for the moment, at least—still very much alive. Cast aside your doubts and fears and get on with the task at hand.
“Easier said than done,” I murmured.
Most things are. I have faith in you, Lori. I’m certain that you will be able to locate Aubrey’s grave. I would suggest, however, that you get some sleep before you start looking for it. Old graves aren’t as easy to find as you might think. You’ll need to be well rested if you’re to contend with brambles, wasps’ nests, and mud.
“I’ll let you know what I find out from Mr. Makepeace,” I said.
I look forward to hearing each and every detail. Good night, my dear.
“Good night, Dimity,” I said.
I waited until the curving lines of royal-blue ink had faded from the page, then closed the journal and returned it to its spot on the bookshelves. Reginald beamed down at me encouragingly as I knelt to bank the fire.
“Brambles, wasps’ nests, and mud won’t slow me down,” I told him, with more confidence than I felt. “If I have to, I’ll go to the ends of the earth to keep my promise to the Pyms.”
Had I known what the future held in store for me, I might have chosen my words more carefully. Instead, I patted Reginald’s powder-pink snout, turned out the lights, and made my way quietly to bed, where I lay awake for a long time, contemplating life and death and the love of two frail sisters for a banished scoundrel.
Five
Bill was gone before dawn the following morning. I rose early enough to see him off, but I didn’t linger on the doorstep because the weather had taken a decided turn for the worse. The wind had continued to rise throughout the night, bringing with it a cold, driving rain that lashed the windows and transformed the graveled drive into a short but challenging run of rapids. It felt as though Mother Nature were railing against the Pym sisters’ demise, but a telephone call to Nell assured me that such objections were premature. Ruth and Louise had requested tea and toast for breakfast and were resting comfortably, despite the storm.
Since it was still too early to wake the twins, I went upstairs to change out of my flannel nightie and into an ensemble I deemed suitable for my meeting with Mr. Makepeace. I wanted him to regard me as a serious person, capable of carrying out whatever task the Pyms had set for me, but I also wanted to keep warm, so I selected a gray cashmere sweater, black wool trousers, and a pair of black leather boots that would stand up to a bit of mud.
By the time I finished dressing, Will and Rob were up. I helped them to don their school uniforms and brushed their hair, then herded them downstairs to the kitchen for sustaining bowls of hot porridge slathered with cream and sprinkled with chopped dates. Willis, Sr., joined us a few minutes later, wearing a tweed suit and his sturdiest brogues.
“I see that you’ve dressed for the weather,” I commented as I ladled porridge into his bowl and mine. “There’s a definite nip in the air and it’s raining sideways. It seems more like late October than late September. Are you sure you want to take the boys to school? ”
“I am,” he replied. “Tempests hold no fear for me, Lori. Apart from that, I’d rather be of service than spend the day counting raindrops.”
“Do you count raindrops, Grandpa?” Will asked interestedly.
“Not often,” Willis, Sr., replied.
“You’d have to count fast,” Rob observed.
“And know big numbers,” Will added. “Bigger than a hundred million.”
“Bigger than a hundred million billion,” Rob countered.
While my sons continued their scholarly analysis of raindropcounting, I gave my father-in-law a thoughtful glance. His comment about wanting to be of service had given me a new and potentially useful idea. It stood to reason that a man accustomed to running a busy law firm would find idleness unappealing. Perhaps, I told myself as I put the saucepan in the sink, the best way to persuade Willis, Sr., to move in with us permanently would be to provide him with meaningful work.