Good night, my dear.
I waited until Aunt Dimity’s handwriting had vanished from the page, then closed the journal, but instead of returning it to its shelf, I gazed down at its blue cover refl ectively.
When I’d entered the study, I’d been ready to laugh at Lizzie Black and her bizarre fantasies. Now I was almost ready to believe that everything she’d said was true. I’d gone from chiding myself for taking Lizzie too seriously to scolding myself for not taking her seriously enough. It was a strange turn of events. Aunt Dimity usually pulled me back from the edge of hysteria, but tonight she’d waved a red fl ag in my face.
“Thank heavens for Dimity,” I said to Reginald. “I gave too much weight to Annelise’s opinion of Lizzie Black. If I hadn’t spoken with Dimity, I would have written Lizzie off as a crackpot and ignored the possibility that she might know more about the DuCarals than Annelise does. But I know better now. Lizzie’s version of history might be garbled, but it’s based on one true thing: Something bad happened at Aldercot Hall forty years ago, and the person responsible for it is still there. If I don’t fi nd him and stop him, bad things will start happening again. So he’d better watch out, because I’m on my way.”
108 Nancy Atherton
Reginald’s eyes gleamed with approval. I gave him a hug, stood, and returned the blue journal to its shelf. As I returned Reginald to his, I felt the full weight of the day close in on me. It was all I could do to shut off the lights and drag myself upstairs.
“I’m coming to get you, Rendor,” I murmured sleepily as I crawled into bed. Then I added, at Kit’s request, a short and fairly sincere prayer for rain.
Twelve
M y prayer was answered with such ferocity that the
boys’ trail ride was canceled the next morning.
“It’s been raining like blazes all night,” Emma told
me over the phone, “and it doesn’t look as though it’s going to stop anytime soon. The trails have turned into waterfalls, the outdoor rings are flooded, and the arena’s roof is leaking. I’ve canceled tomorrow’s sessions as well as today’s. Thunder and Storm will stay in the stables, along with the rest of the horses, until the monsoon passes.”
“I’ll let the boys know,” I said. “By the way, Emma, has Kit spoken to you about tightening security around the stables?”
“He has,” Emma replied. “And we’re on top of it. I’m sorry that I didn’t take the twins seriously the other day. It sounds as if we might have a voyeur on the premises. If he shows his face around here again, I’m notifying the police.” She paused to speak with someone on her end of the line, then said to me, “I’ve got to run, Lori.
The buckets in the arena need emptying. Tell the boys that if they want to spend their Saturday doing stable chores, they’re welcome to join us.”
“I’ll tell them,” I said, and rang off.
The twins took the news of their washed-out trail ride philosophically, explaining to me that it was never a good idea to go riding in a heavy downpour because slick footing could be hazardous for both rider and pony. Preoccupied as I was by an entirely different kind of hazard, I listened with only half an ear.
Neither Annelise nor I was surprised when the twins leapt at the chance to spend the day at Anscombe Manor doing stable chores— my sons shared an inexplicable enthusiasm for shoveling muck—but
110 Nancy Atherton
Annelise was frankly astonished when I appeared in the front hall dressed in my hiking gear.
“You’re not going rambling today, are you?” she asked incredulously.
“Why shouldn’t I?” I said. “A little rain never hurt anyone.” And since Kit had asked me to pray for it, I added silently, he wouldn’t cancel our trip to Aldercot Hall because of it.
“A little rain?” Annelise said, and her tone of voice indicated in no uncertain terms that anyone who would voluntarily spend time outdoors on such a fi lthy day had to be as mad as Lizzie Black.
If Annelise had spotted the rowanberry necklace I was wearing beneath my rain jacket or glimpsed the array of nonstandard supplies filling my day pack, she probably would have made an emergency call to Bill—after locking me in my bedroom—so I kept my jacket zipped and my pack securely closed while we bundled the boys into the Range Rover.