Hilltop Farm is tucked between the two properties, at the end of a rather uninviting lane. I’m sure you’ve passed it many times without giving it a second glance.
I shook my head despondently. “There are way too many gaps in my local knowledge, Dimity. I didn’t know about the pet cemetery on Emma’s Hill until I stumbled into it today. I’d never heard of Aldercot Hall and the DuCarals until Kit mentioned them. Now you’re springing Hilltop Farm and Lizzie Black on me, and I’ve never heard of them either. I feel like a stranger in my own backyard.”
You’re far from a stranger, Lori, but it will take you many years to become familiar with every nook and cranny of the countryside surrounding the cottage. As for the DuCaral family and Lizzie Black—they are equally reclusive. I would have been surprised if you’d claimed an acquaintance with them.
“Is Lizzie Black related to the DuCarals?” I asked.
No, but I believe she knows things about them that would be of interest to you. Lizzie is a most unusual woman. She was raised by her grandmother after her parents died in an influenza outbreak. The outbreak drove Granny Black into virtual seclusion. Over the years, she and her granddaughter became almost entirely self-sufficient. They grew their own food and made their own clothes and learned to do without whatever they couldn’t grow or make.
“What about other people?” I asked.
They had little use for other people. Lizzie was still a young girl when I first met her, but she was already extraordinarily antisocial. She stopped attending school at the earliest opportunity, and she made no friends while she was there. She rarely showed her face in the village, and when she did, she seldom spoke to anyone. She had no interest in the modern world, but she had an in-depth knowledge of local lore and legends. Her grandmother told her stories, you see, stories that had been passed down from one generation of Blacks to the next.
Aunt Dimity: Vampire Hunter
83
“Stories about the DuCarals?” I said.
I heard only vague hints from her about the DuCaral family’s curious history, and I had no reason to pursue the matter further. You, however, have the best of reasons: your sons’ well-being. I would strongly advise you to visit Lizzie before you visit Aldercot Hall.
“Dimity,” I said, “if Lizzie Black is so antisocial, how did you come to know so much about her?”
I met her shortly after Bobby died.
The silence in the study seemed to deepen, and I found myself holding my breath. Bobby MacLaren had been Dimity’s fiancé, her heart’s delight, the one great love of her life. He’d died in the Second World War, his plane ripped to pieces by enemy fire and his body lost in the English Channel. After his death Dimity had almost lost the will to live. I hadn’t seen his name in the blue journal for many years.
I don’t remember how I got there, but one stormy night I found myself at Hilltop Farm—delirious, barefoot, and dressed in nothing but my night-gown. Granny Black took me in and nursed me until I was strong enough to return to the cottage. Young Lizzie kept watch over me at night. I can still remember the cool touch of her hand on my brow and the soothing sound of her voice, comforting me. I suppose she felt the same pity for me that she’d feel for an injured animal.
The handwriting stopped, and a log fell in the fire, sending up a shower of sparks. Stanley raised his sleek black head to see what had caused the commotion, then tucked his nose under his tail and went back to sleep. I remained silent, waiting for Aunt Dimity to go on.
A moment later the handwriting resumed.
After Granny Black died, I was one of the fortunate few Lizzie allowed into her life—very occasionally, mind you, because her tolerance for company was severely limited. But I went to Hilltop Farm every now and again, to make sure that Lizzie had everything she needed. She always did.
“I’m sure she was glad to see you,” I said. “You grew up here, and you’ve always had a way with people. But what makes you think she’ll speak with me, Dimity? I’m not even English.”
84 Nancy Atherton
You may not be able to persuade her to speak with you, Lori, but I think you would be wise to make the attempt. If anyone can prepare you for what awaits you at Aldercot Hall, it’s Lizzie Black.
Since I was beginning to get butterflies in my stomach every time I thought of what awaited me at Aldercot Hall, I decided to follow Aunt Dimity’s advice. It would mean missing dinner, but a missed meal would be a small price to pay if I could glean useful information about the DuCarals—and possibly Rendor—from Lizzie Black.
“I’ll have to go now,” I said, glancing at the clock on the mantelshelf. “I won’t have time to visit Lizzie in the morning, and if I wait until after dinner, I’ll be intruding on her evening. I’ll leave a note for Annelise and take her car.”
Don’t be put off by Lizzie’s manner, Lori. She can be somewhat . . .
abrupt.
“Right,” I said.
And occasionally aggressive.
“Okay,” I said.