Part 14 (2/2)
”I hope Emma's persuaded you to drop the idea of going to Norfolk,” I said.
”Norfolk?” Kit swung his arm up and around me, and pulled me close to his side. ”I love Ans...o...b.. Manor. I love my job. I have friends here who love me.” He planted a gentle kiss on my brow. ”Why would I give all of that up because of a spiteful woman and a moonstruck schoolgirl?”
As he fed my words back to me, a weight seemed to slip from my shoulders. Though I'd claimed from the start to be defending Kit, the truth was that I needed him. His sweet nature calmed and nourished my turbulent one. His essential goodness was like a beacon guiding me through a world that at times seemed very dark. If Kit had left Ans...o...b.. Manor, he would have left an irreparable hole in my soul.
I knew now that he would stay, no matter what. Whether Nicholas and I succeeded in nailing the murderer or failed miserably, Kit would go on being a part of my life. A wave of relief and grat.i.tude filled my heart to overflowing.
”You wouldn't dare leave,” I managed, fighting sudden tears, ”because you know I'd come after you and drag you back by the scruff of your neck.”
”My fierce angel,” he murmured. He ruffled my hair, then rested his arms once more on the gate. ”Emma tells me you've been wielding your burning sword on my behalf.”
”Nicholas did most of the wielding,” I said quickly, and told him what Nicholas and I had discovered about the good people of Finch. Kit was deeply touched to learn that so many of his neighbors had gone on believing in him despite Mrs. Hooper's wicked attempts to blacken his name.
I saved Peggy's story for last. Nicholas had promised to keep it confidential, but I refused to conceal the truth from Kit. He'd been persecuted and reviled by Peggy Taxman. He deserved to know why.
His response was characteristically magnanimous.
”What an amazing woman,” he marveled. ”To build a rich and rewarding life after suffering so many crus.h.i.+ng blows . . . What fort.i.tude.”
I thought he was being a tad overgenerous and reminded him acerbically that Peggy had been willing to throw him to the wolves to save her own hide.
”She was afraid,” he said simply. ”She was being manipulated and threatened by a truly evil woman. I can't be angry with her.”
”You can't be angry with anyone,” I teased.
He smiled sweetly. ”Thank you, Lori, for-”
”Don't thank me,” I said abruptly. ”Thank Nicholas. He was in the driver's seat. I just went along for the ride.”
Kit arched an eyebrow.
”It's true,” I insisted. ”And I really do want you to thank him. Out loud and to his face. He needs to hear it.”
Kit heard the urgency in my voice. He regarded me solemnly and put a hand to his breast.
”I will thank Nicholas,” he promised. ”Out loud and to his face.”
I averted my gaze, half-embarra.s.sed by my earnestness, and saw Lucca striding across the paddock toward the gate. He greeted me warmly, asked after his sister, and requested Kit's a.s.sistance in the ditch.
I left the men to their work and went in search of Emma. She and I had a lot of catching up to do. I hadn't seen her since I'd returned from the States, and I wanted to thank her for taking such good care of Kit.
When I found her-in a closet, squatting beside a cardboard box-I scarcely recognized her. For as long as I could remember, Emma Harris had been short and generously built, with gray-blond hair hanging to her waist. Her hair scarcely touched her earlobes now, and while she was still short, her build was no longer quite so generous.
”Emma?” I said, gazing down at her. ”Have you lost weight?”
”Thirty pounds,” she replied, looking up from the box. ”I'm going to lose twenty more before I'm satisfied. Want a kitten?”
She moved aside, and I peered over her shoulder at Katisha, Nell's calico cat, who was nursing five new additions to the family.
”The boys would love a kitten,” I said, ”but I'd better check with Bill first.”
”Just say the word.” Emma came out of the closet, closed the door, and led the way to her large and pleasantly cluttered kitchen.
”I didn't know you were trying to lose weight,” I said. ”What inspired you?”
”My jodhpurs,” Emma replied. ”I split the seam when I went riding on Christmas Day. I took it as a sign that it was time to take my weight seriously.”
She looked wonderful. As she put the kettle on and set a pair of earthenware mugs on the refectory table, I detected a fine glow to her skin, fresh energy in her step, and an unmistakable gleam of accomplishment in her blue-gray eyes.
”I like your hair,” I said.
”It dries faster.” Emma had a very practical turn of mind. ”But enough about me. I want to know what you've been up to. I've been hearing all sorts of spicy rumors about you and the Buntings' nephew. . . .”
With a groan that was part chuckle, I sank onto a chair and began at the beginning. I gave Emma an abbreviated version of Peggy Taxman's tale, but by the time we'd finished a.n.a.lyzing everyone else's pecadilloes, she'd filled the two mugs with peppermint tea and placed a pot of creamed honey within my reach. I waited until she was sitting down to explain about Nicholas.
There were things you could tell a best friend that you couldn't tell a husband or an aunt, and I told them all to Emma. I knew she wouldn't judge me or repeat my words to another living soul. She was the sort of friend Prunella Hooper had only pretended to be.
”Nicholas sounds intriguing,” Emma observed, when I'd finally fallen silent. ”He wouldn't appeal to you if he weren't. You like complicated men.” She sipped her tea and gazed into the middle distance. ”I wonder what brought on this morning's meltdown? It seems to me that there could be more to it than a tender conscience.”
I drank my tea and considered Emma's comment carefully. My friend was as insightful as she was trustworthy. It wouldn't be the first time she'd picked up a cue I'd missed, and sure enough, as I reviewed the many conversations I'd had with Nicholas, a pattern began to emerge.
”Now that you mention it . . .” I tapped the rim of my mug with an index finger. ”He's been on the verge of telling me something a number of times, but he's always stopped himself or been interrupted.”
”Maybe it has to do with his doctor's appointment,” Emma suggested. ”Maybe it's been preying on his mind.”
”He said it was routine,” I reminded her.
”He might have been playing it down to keep you from fretting,” Emma reasoned. ”He sounds like someone who'd do that sort of thing.”
It was exactly the sort of thing Nicholas would do. He was given to small acts of gallantry. He was the kind of man who opened doors for women, guided them around muddy puddles, wrapped blankets around them when they were chilled. I had no trouble believing that he would lie to keep me from worrying. I recalled the hesitation in his voice when he'd mentioned the appointment and felt my heart clench with dread.
”That's it.” I looked at Emma in alarm. ”He's sick, and he doesn't want me to know. Oh, Emma, what if he's seriously ill? What if that's why he came to see his aunt and uncle? One last visit before-”
”For heaven's sake, Lori, simmer down.” Emma refilled my mug and shook her head at me, bemused. ”He's not in intensive care yet. I was tossing an idea in the air. I could be completely wrong.”
”What if you're right, though?” My spoon rattled agitatedly against the mug as I scooped honey into my tea. ”He should have told me.”
”There's probably nothing to tell.” Emma rolled her eyes in exasperation. ”It was just an idea, Lori. Don't worry about it.” She leaned forward, her elbows on the table. ”What color kitten do you think the boys will like?”
It was easy for Emma to tell me not to worry about Nicholas. She was naturally calm, cool, and collected, whereas I was absolutely none of the above. I returned home with so many knots in my stomach that I felt as if I'd gulped a mugful of macrame.
I telephoned the vicarage, but Nicholas had already left for London, where, Lilian informed me, he planned to spend the night. I considered quizzing Lilian about the state of her nephew's health but decided against it. If Nicholas had sworn her to secrecy, she wouldn't confide in me, and if he'd decided gallantly to protect her from the truth, it would be unkind to alarm her.
I spent the rest of the day and a good part of the evening afflicting Nicholas with every disease under the sun. By the time I sat down in the study to speak with Aunt Dimity, I was a bit overwrought.
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