After I closed the gate behind me, I paused to take a last look at Hillfont Abbey, half expecting it to vanish in a puff of glittering stardust. I felt slightly dazed, as if I were awakening from a dream. I ran my fingers lightly through Bianca’s fluffy mane to remind myself that Hillfont wasn’t a marvelous mirage, but a real place filled with remarkable, but real, people.
Bess and I were still in the orchid wood when she woke. She should have been hungry, but she was content to watch the world pass by as we followed the path back to Fairworth House. Declan Donovan was sweeping the front stairs when we arrived. He spotted us, set his broom aside, and trotted over to lift the pram into the Range Rover while I put Bess into her car seat.
“Taking off, are you?” he asked. “Can’t say that I blame you. William’s sisters are a right old pair of tartars, aren’t they? Amelia hightailed it to Pussywillows as soon as they retired to their rooms to sleep off their jet lag. She had what my wife calls a strategic headache.”
“Trust me,” I said. “It was a real headache.” I eyed the house warily. “If I’d spent another minute with those two, my head would have exploded. I don’t know how Deirdre is going to cope with them.”
“Don’t you worry about Deirdre,” said Declan. “She’s tough as nails, my wife.”
“She’ll have to be,” I said. “Would you please tell William that Bess and I have gone home, Declan? I don’t want to risk running into the tartars.”
“I’ll let him know,” Declan said.
I thanked him, climbed into the Rover, and cruised slowly down Willis, Sr.’s graveled drive. Part of me was focused on the roadway, but the rest of me was still lost in a dream.
? ? ?
“Lori?” said Bill. “Can you hear me?”
“What?” I said, blinking vaguely at him.
We were in the living room. I was sitting on the couch, folding clean diapers, and Bill was ensconced in his favorite armchair, with Stanley purring blissfully in his lap. Will, Rob, and Bess were, presumably, upstairs and asleep. I had no clear recollection of anything that had happened since Bill had brought the boys home from school.
“You’ve been on another planet all evening,” said Bill.
“Have I?” I said, coming out of my reverie. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said. “You’re in shock. My aunts have driven you to distraction.” He pursed his lips grimly. “I knew I should have gone there with you this morning.”
“It’s not their fault, either,” I said. “To tell you the truth, I’d forgotten about them. You were right, by the way. They’re gunning for Amelia.”
“Of course I was right,” said Bill. He peered heavenward. “Please let them insult Amelia openly, in front of Father.” He lowered his gaze to meet mine. “If you haven’t been reliving a Charlotte-and-Honoria-induced nightmare, where have you been? Because you certainly haven’t been here.”
“I guess I’ve been at Hillfont Abbey,” I said. “Bess and I spent a couple of hours there this afternoon, with Arthur Hargreaves, and I can’t get it out of my mind. It’s the most extraordinary place, Bill, and the people who live there are beyond extraordinary.”
“Is that where Bess’s unicorn came from?” Bill asked. “I noticed it in the nursery. I thought Father had given it to her.”
“No,” I said. “Bianca was a parting gift from an impetuous little girl named Harriet. . . .”
Bill listened without interrupting while I told him about my visit to Hillfont Abbey. When I finished, he tented his hands over Stanley and scrutinized me.
“You’re not in shock,” he said. “You’re in love.”
“No, I’m not,” I protested. “I think Arthur’s amazing, but he’s not—”
“I’m not talking about Arthur,” Bill broke in. “You’ve fallen in love with the whole Hargreaves family, from Great-Great-Grandpa Quentin to little Emily with her chicken bones.”
“Am I in love with them?” I folded the last diaper, added it to the stack, and leaned back on the couch to consider Bill’s proposition. “I’m intrigued by them, awed by them, enchanted by them—I may even have been seduced by them—but I’m not sure I’m in love with them. They’re a little intimidating.”
“Overachievers usually are,” said Bill. “Will you go back?”
“If your aunts continue to be as horrible to me as they were today,” I said, “I’ll have to go back. Otherwise, I’ll be the one committing a double homicide. And I’d hate to spoil your father’s wedding.”
Bill’s laughter was cut short by a yawn.
“I’m going to bed,” he said. “Are you coming?”
“Not yet,” I said. “I have some catching up to do.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Bill. “Dimity will want to hear all about Hillfont Abbey.”
Stanley jumped from his lap as he stood, and padded after him as he took the stack of folded diapers upstairs. I sat for a moment, collecting my thoughts, then walked up the hall to the study.
The book-lined room triggered memories of Hillfont’s splendid library.