“I’m afraid it is too late for them to establish a long-term relationship with their nephew,” Mr. Makepeace said softly. “But it is not yet too late for them to reach out to him. They must move cautiously, however, because they do not know how their overtures will be received. It is entirely possible that their nephew is unaware of their existence. It is also possible that his mind has been poisoned against them. Their intentions must, therefore, be conveyed with the utmost diplomacy.”
I couldn’t restrain a snort of laughter. I’d been called many things in my life, but I’d never been called diplomatic. I lost my temper too easily, I spoke too hastily, and I seldom let facts complicate a good theory. If Ruth and Louise expected me to act the part of a discreet, mild-mannered envoy, they’d made a grave error in judgment. An ambassador blessed with my diplomatic skills would be more likely to inflame their family feud than to douse it.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Makepeace,” I said, disguising my laughter with a cough, “but I don’t think I’m the right person for the job.”
“I beg to differ, dear lady,” he said, smiling broadly. “My clients regard you as the perfect person for the job. They believe that you will succeed where others might fail because you are”—he closed his eyes briefly, as if he were trying to recall the Pyms’ exact words—“strong-willed, determined, and naturally inquisitive.”
“Bossy, bullheaded, and nosy,” I said under my breath.
“I beg your pardon? ” said the solicitor.
“Never mind,” I said, motioning for him to go on.
“I have been given to understand that you are independently wealthy,” he said. “If such is the case, you will be able to make the journey without risking a loss of income or requiring a leave of absence from your employer.”
“I don’t work for a living,” I conceded, “but I have two young sons and a husband who travels a lot, so I don’t see how I can—”
Mr. Makepeace held up a chubby finger for silence.
“My clients,” he continued, “believe that your father-in-law, who currently resides with you, will not only be capable of looking after your sons, but glad of the opportunity to do so.”
“My father-in-law is great with the boys,” I acknowledged, “but he doesn’t know the first thing about cooking, cleaning, or doing laundry, so—”
“My clients,” Mr. Makepeace broke in, “have informed me that your father-in-law’s, er, legions of admirers will, without hesitation, rise to the occasion. I have been advised that the, ahem, merry widows of Finch—my clients’ phrase, not mine,” he hastened to assure me, “will vie for the privilege of providing your family with the home comforts to which they have become accustomed.”
I pursed my lips. If I knew the merry widows of Finch—and I did—they’d provide my family with comforts usually found in five-star hotels. The cottage would be scoured daily, the laundry would be washed by hand, and my menfolk would be fed so many delectable dishes that they’d never again be satisfied by my cooking.
“Your expenses,” Mr. Makepeace concluded, “will, of course, be paid in full.”
“It’s not a question of money,” I said, waving the concern aside. “I have responsibilities at home, Mr. Makepeace. I can’t drop everything and run halfway around the world on a whim. My family needs me.”
The round-faced solicitor leaned forward and gazed at me with a new sobriety.
“You would not be making the journey on a whim,” he said quietly. “You would be fulfilling the deepest desire of my clients’ hearts. They wish to communicate with their only remaining blood relative before they die. They hope to heal the breach that sundered them from him before it is too late. Ruth and Louise need you, too, Ms. Shepherd. I would argue that their need is greater than your family’s.”
I felt as if he’d thrust a knife into my heart.
“I’ll have to talk it over with my husband and sons,” I mumbled, gazing at the floor.
“Naturally,” said Mr. Makepeace. “But please do so quickly. My clients may not have much time left.” He picked up the black leather document case and handed it to me. “My clients have authorized me to present you with papers giving you the power to act as their legal representative in this matter, Ms. Shepherd. They have also written a letter to their nephew, which they hope you will deliver to him personally. Mrs. Abercrombie will, if you wish, make your travel arrangements. We need but a moment’s notice.”
I slipped the document case into my shoulder bag and told Mr. Makepeace that I would give him my decision by the end of the day. He thanked me for my time and walked with me to the double doors. I was about to step onto the landing when I paused to look up at him.
“The letter Ruth and Louise found—the one their brother wrote to their mother,” I said. “It must have given their hearts a jolt.”
“It did,” said Mr. Makepeace. “But if you can find their nephew, you may, perhaps, give their hearts ease.”