It was raining so hard that the drops exploded when they hit the road surface, creating a mist that made it hard to see where the lane ended and the hedgerows began. If I’d been driving, I would have turned back, but Annelise handled the challenging conditions with her usual aplomb, and we reached Anscombe Manor without incident.
We parted company in the stable yard, Annelise and the boys heading for the ponies’ stalls while I made for the courtyard. Kit was waiting for me in the shelter of the doorway that led to his spartan second-floor flat. His shoulders were hunched against the gusting downpour, and he’d pulled the hood of his rain jacket so far forward on his head that from a distance I could see only the tip of his perfectly shaped nose.
“If I ever doubt the power of prayer,” I called as I strode across the courtyard, “remind me of today.”
“I will,” he said, and came out of the doorway to meet me. “Listen, Lori, I’m sorry that I was so ratty yesterday. I shouldn’t have raised my voice to you.”
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“Don’t worry about it,” I told him, with a careless wave of my hand. “I find it somehow reassuring to know that you can be ratty.”
He glanced fleetingly at the manor house, then looked down at his boots. “I realize that you view me as some sort of saint, Lori, but I’m not a saint. I’m a deeply fl awed human being.”
For one slim whisker of a second, I was tempted to pursue the line of questioning Aunt Dimity had suggested and ask Kit if his flaws included an inability to perform adequately—or at all— in certain intimate situations, but I chickened out. He seemed to be in a fairly good mood, and I didn’t want to risk spoiling it so early in the day.
“If you’re deeply flawed, my friend, then there’s hope for the rest of us,” I said bracingly. “Can we get going? If I stand still much longer, I’ll get moldy.”
Kit managed a small smile and led the way out of the courtyard.
Much to my relief, he didn’t return to the absurdly steep game trail we’d climbed to reach the gnarled apple tree, but went instead to the splendidly level track that ran alongside the north pasture. The track was a swampy mess, to be sure, but at least it hadn’t turned into a waterfall.
“Do you know a woman named Lizzie Black?” I asked as we squelched along.
“Lizzie of Hilltop Farm?” said Kit. “Yes, of course, I know her.
She’s extraordinarily wise in woodlore. Knows when and where to find the best berries, mushrooms, nuts. She’s mad as a spoon, of course—believes in banshees and werewolves and such—but she’s very reliable when it comes to berries and nuts. Why?”
Since Kit’s opinion of Lizzie Black seemed to match Annelise’s, I decided not to tell him about my visit to Hilltop Farm. Annelise had already told me how crazy Lizzie was. I didn’t need to hear it all over again from Kit. Aunt Dimity had convinced me to keep an open mind about Lizzie’s claims, and I intended to do just that.
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“Idle curiosity,” I replied lightly. “I heard someone mention her name and I just wondered if you knew her. Are we going to Gypsy Hollow?”
“We’ll pass through it on our way to Aldercot Hall,” Kit replied.
“Good,” I said. “I want to make sure that Leo’s okay. It can’t be much fun for him to be cooped up in his little motor home on a day like this.”
“I was planning to look in on him,” Kit assured me, “but I suspect that he’s coped with worse things than a rainy day.”
I gave him a curious glance. “Why were you so eager for it to rain today?”
“It’s part of my cunning plan to gain access to Aldercot Hall,” he informed me with a wily, sidelong glance. “The DuCarals have a reputation for being standoffish when it comes to visitors, so I doubt that we’d get very far with them if we drove over there. I think we’ll have a better chance of getting our boots inside the hall if we present ourselves as a pair of hapless ramblers who’ve lost their way.”
“Okay,” I said. “But I still don’t see why we need an extra helping of rain.”
“We’re going to appeal to their sense of humanity,” Kit explained. “If we’re drenched and freezing when we arrive on their doorstep, they’ll be more likely to take pity on us and let us in.
Once we’re inside, we’ll try to find out more about Rendor. Is he a member of the family? A friend?”
“A voyeuristic pervert?” I interjected.
“Let’s not leap to any conclusions,” Kit advised. “He may simply be a shy man who enjoys watching children at play.”
“And I may be the rightful heir to the throne of England,” I said sardonically.
Kit pursed his lips and began, “Now, Lori—”
“All right, all right,” I interrupted. “I’ll reserve judgment until I meet him face-to-face. And I like your plan. I get lost naturally, so I won’t have any trouble acting like a hapless rambler.”
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