Nor can I. I also look forward to William taking up residence in Fairworth House. The place has an interesting history.
“I plan to throw him the biggest housewarming party Finch has ever seen,” I said. “And I won’t have to prepare a single mouthful of food.”
The widows of Finch will provide.
“He’ll weigh three hundred pounds by next year if he’s not careful,” I said. “They’re more eager than Bill and I are for William to move in. But no one’s more excited about it than Will and Rob. They’ve already asked Grandpa if his new house will have stabling for their ponies.”
What did he say?
“He drove them over to show them the progress that’s been made in restoring the old stable to its former glory,” I said. “Doting doesn’t begin to describe it.”
Grandfathers are, I believe, obliged by law to spoil their grandchildren.
“William is nothing if not law-abiding,” I said, laughing.
Bree, too, is making progress.
“She’s a breath of fresh air,” I said. “She seems to know instinctively who she can razz and who deserves to be treated with respect.”
I would guess that Peggy Taxman falls into one category, while the vicar falls into another.
“You’ve got the general idea,” I said. “She’s called for an economic summit with Fortescue Makepeace. She, unlike her great-grandaunts, wants a thorough explanation of her finances.”
Naturally. Let us not forget that Bree was her family’s accountant. She kept her father and grandfather afloat when, by rights, they should have been shipwrecked. I have no doubt that Mr. Makepeace will enjoy working with someone who understands the importance of financial security.
“They share an interest in fashion as well,” I said. “She’ll be as impressed by his waistcoats as he will be by her body art.” I fell silent for a moment, lost in thought. “I wish Ruth and Louise were still here. They would have loved to see how well Bree’s doing. They would have adored the wedding. They would have been overjoyed to see the old Fairworth place come back to life, and to have William as a neighbor. I miss them, Dimity. I wish they were here.”
They are here, my dear. Their spirits bloom in gardens throughout the length and breadth of England. They can be seen in stitches embroidered for babies and brides. They live on in recipes that will be handed down for as long as berries ripen and bees make honey. Ruth and Louise are all around you, Lori. You just have to know where to look.
“I’ll keep my eyes open, Dimity,” I said, and as the curving lines of royal-blue ink faded from the page, the air was filled with the subtle fragrance of lavender water.