Aunt Dimity Takes A Holiday Part 17

"In a way, Miss Winfield's obsession helped her," Jim observed. "It gave her a purpose, a goal, a reason to get up every day and go on living."

"What was her goal?" Emma asked.

"She wanted to make sure that Peter's twenty-first birthday was celebrated properly," Jim replied. "She wanted Peter to have that which Derek had willingly given up-the t.i.tle, the prestige, the wealth. She spelled out her plan explicitly in her letters. . . ."

Winnie began to reestablish her credentials in the service industry. She went to court and changed her last name to Chambers. She used the contacts she'd made while waitressing at the fancy London restaurant and started at the bottom, cleaning the houses of the restaurant's well-heeled customers. She acc.u.mulated references and worked her way up through the ranks. By the end of the decade, Charlotte Chambers was more than qualified to sign on with the agency Giddings patronized.

"When Giddings requested a respectable maid-of-all-work four months ago, she was ready." Jim closed his laptop. "I can't speak to her actions after she came to Hailesham."

"Let's hope Giddings can," said Lord Elstyn.

The earl touched the b.u.t.ton on his desk and Giddings entered the study. The elderly manservant was accompanied by a dark-suited underling carrying a large cardboard box. The nameless a.s.sistant deposited the box on the desk, beside Jim Huang's computer, and stood back. Giddings took his place beside the earl's desk.

"Well?" said Lord Elstyn.

Giddings bowed. "Please allow me to offer my sincerest apologies, my lord. Had I been more alert, I might have-"

"Yes, all right Giddings," the earl barked, "get on with it."

Giddings straightened with alacrity. "We searched the servants' quarters, my lord, as you requested. I'm afraid we made some rather disturbing discoveries."

Lord Elstyn eyed the box suspiciously as Giddings drew from it a clear plastic bag containing a sheet of paper. The paper looked as if it had been crumpled, then smoothed flat.

"We found this doc.u.ment and many others like it in Miss . . . Winfield's room," said Giddings. "I believe, with regret, that she obtained the doc.u.ments from your waste receptacle, my lord, in the course of her normal duties."

Lord Elstyn nodded grimly for Giddings to go on.

Giddings lifted a second plastic bag from the box. It seemed to contain a cloth cap. A third bag held what appeared to be a pair of rough trousers. A fourth held a moth-eaten woolen sweater.

"When I approached Miss Winfield's wardrobe," Giddings explained, "I detected a strong scent of paraffin, similar to the scent you noted on the night of the fire, my lord." He swept a hand over the bagged clothing. "These items of apparel were hidden well back in the wardrobe. I can only a.s.sume that Miss Winfield used them to disguise herself when she retrieved the paraffin from the greenhouse and used it to set the topiary ablaze."

Beside me, Simon stirred. He put his hand in his pocket, walked to the desk, and deposited the straight razor atop the pile of bagged clothing.

"It's one of your old cutthroats, Uncle," he said to the earl. "You must have given it to Chambers, who left it behind when he abandoned Winnie. I believe she left it in the nursery."

"The nursery?" Lord Elstyn queried.

"She cut up the children's books," Simon told him. "She used the books in the nursery to create her anonymous threats. You'll find paper and paste in the toy cupboard."

"Thank you, sir," said Giddings. "We shall look into it immediately."

Simon returned to my side. There was no trace of triumph in his demeanor. He looked self-conscious and ashamed, as if grieved by the knowledge that he could no longer plead innocent to Winnie's charge of betrayal.

"You did the right thing," I murmured. "If you hadn't told them, I would have."

"It's like kicking a child," he said sadly.

"A dangerous child," I reminded him.

Giddings lifted another clear plastic bag from the cardboard box. "I'm not entirely certain whether this item is relevant or not, my lord, but since it was bundled with the clothing, I thought it best to bring it along. It has antennae, my lord. It appears to be a control mechanism of some kind."

"I know what it is." Lord Elstyn lifted the coil of wire and let it drop, as though he couldn't bear to touch it. "It was used to control an evil device hidden in the ivy covering the hurdles. My granddaughter informed me this morning that Ms. Shepherd discovered the device last night."

Simon looked down at me. "When did you . . ."

"After I left you, it just came to me," I muttered, offering a reasonable approximation of the truth. "Your fall, Nell's-no accident."

"Miss Winfield tried to kill Simon twice, to prevent him from taking my son's place," Lord Elstyn was saying. "She used remote-controlled flashbulbs to spook Deacon. The second time, she mistook Eleanor for Simon."

"Dear Lord . . ." Simon gasped angrily and raised his voice to Giddings. "How could you allow her to come under our roof? Didn't you recognize her?"

"It has been almost forty years, sir, since I last encountered Miss Winfield," Giddings replied with unflappable aplomb. "Her appearance has altered greatly."

His words tweaked my memory and I began to see the light. "She put on weight," I said. "She dyed her hair red."

"Madam?" said Giddings with polite perplexity.

"She's masquerading as the red-haired maid." I pointed at Jim Huang. "Jim told us that Winnie played the organ at her church. I caught the red-haired maid playing the piano in the drawing room yesterday. She must be-"

"I don't believe it," Derek declared. He stared stubbornly at his father. "Winnie might have threatened Simon. She might even have burnt the turtledove in some misguided effort to help me. But attempted murder? Never. Not Winnie. She couldn't do such a thing."

"I knew you would resist the idea," said Lord Elstyn. "I'd hoped to avoid a direct confrontation, but . . ." He reached for the b.u.t.ton on his desk.

Twenty-two.

Giddings scooped up the bagged items and dropped them into the box, which his a.s.sistant whisked out of sight behind the desk. The elderly manservant then straightened his tie and went to stand at the door.

The door opened. The red-haired maid entered, carrying the tea tray. She curtsied.

"More tea, sir?" she asked.

"No, thank you," said Giddings, and took the tray from her.

The maid glanced up at his forbidding scowl. Her eyes darted from face to face around the room. When they met Derek's, he half rose from his chair.

"Winnie?" he said.

She took her bottom lip between her teeth and lowered her lashes. When she looked up again, her face was wreathed in the sweetest of smiles.

"Now, Master Anthony, what did I tell you about standing when a servant comes into the room?" she chided.

She smoothed her ap.r.o.n and approached Derek, who'd sunk back into his chair. He was so tall and she so tiny that when she stood before him, they were nearly eye to eye.

"Didn't I tell you to stand only for ladies?" she asked. "Polite indifference, that's what you show to servants, remember?"

"Yes, Winnie," said Derek.

"I knew you'd come back to help your son. I had a son, too, but . . ." Her face went slack for a moment and her eyes became hollow caves. Then the sweet smile returned, the adoring animation. "Did you enjoy your treacle tart, my pet? I made it for you, right under Cook's nose-the porridge, too-and she never tumbled." Her smile widened. "Who's the clever boots?"

"You are, Winnie," Derek replied as if the exchange was a familiar one, fond words spoken in childhood and never forgotten.

"My, my," she crooned. "Haven't you grown to be a fine, strong, handsome man?" She plucked playfully at Derek's curls. "Your hair needs tr.i.m.m.i.n.g, there's no denying, and those boots . . ." She clucked her tongue. "Haven't brushed them in a month, I'll wager. Naughty. I had to dust the nursery all over again after you visited Blackie."

"Sorry, Winnie."

"I'm sorry, too," she said, cupping his face in her wrinkled hands, "dreadfully sorry about your precious little girl. I never meant to harm her, but you know that, don't you, my pet?"

"I know, Winnie."

"It was meant for him." As she glanced at Simon, Winnie's face writhed into a venomous mask that vanished instantly when she turned back to Derek. "I tried to warn him, but he wouldn't listen. Won't listen must be made to listen." She leaned close to Derek's ear and hissed in an audible whisper: "Make him drink his tea. . . ."

No one spoke. No one moved. Derek closed his eyes.

"There, now, Master Anthony." Winnie straightened. "Speak up for your son when the time comes. Don't let them bully you."

"I won't." Derek swallowed hard.

Giddings rattled the tea tray peremptorily. "Come along, Miss Winfield. Master Anthony must attend to his affairs."

"Yes, Mr. Giddings. Sorry, Mr. Giddings." Winnie gave Derek's hair a last motherly caress. "Good-bye, my pet."

"Good-bye . . . Winnie." The muscles worked in Derek's jaw as he watched his beloved nanny meekly take the tea tray from Giddings and leave.

The others shrank back as Winnie pa.s.sed them, as if her madness were a contagion that might be spread by contact. I turned and stared in horror at the teacup sitting on the mantelshelf.

"Inspector Layton?" Lord Elstyn murmured.

Giddings's dark-suited a.s.sistant stepped forward, but he did so with an air of authority that had been missing when he'd first entered the study.

"My men are waiting for her, Lord Elstyn," he said. "I've instructed them to treat her with care. Huang has already made his report. I'll send a chap round to take statements from everyone else this afternoon." He picked up the cardboard box and addressed the rest of us. "In the meantime, please don't touch the teacup intended for Simon Elstyn. We'll want to a.n.a.lyze its contents. Good day to you all."

Giddings opened the door for Inspector Layton and gave him a deferential bow as he pa.s.sed. Jim Huang retrieved his laptop and was about to follow the inspector out of the study when the earl asked him to wait.

"Thank you, Mr. Huang," he said.

"You're welcome, sir," said Jim.

"I would be honored," the earl continued, "if you would accept a volume from the library, any volume you choose, as a special token of my family's grat.i.tude."

"Any volume?" Jim echoed, wide-eyed. He seemed to doubt his good fortune. "As I'm sure you know, sir, some of the books are quite valuable."

"None can be as valuable as the service you've rendered us," said the earl. "Go, Mr. Huang, make your selection. You are a connoisseur. I know that you will give it a good home. And please give my best regards to your father."

"I will, sir. Thank you, sir." Jim bounced on his toes as he departed, as if he couldn't wait to reach the library.

When Giddings had gone, Bill and I were the only non-family members left in the study, but I didn't think it mattered. After the morning's wrenching revelations, I doubted that anyone would have the heart to discuss business. I should have known better.

"Yes," Gina said, flicking the file folder with her fingertip. "We've been subjected to a most disagreeable scene, but now that it's over, we should take a page from Giddings's book and attend to our affairs."

"Surely it can wait," pleaded Oliver.

"It has waited," Gina retorted. "It's waited for more than twenty years. Uncle and I have spent the past three months preparing for this meeting and I'm d.a.m.ned if I'll have it delayed another second." She snapped her fingers, as if she'd had a sudden insight. "The papers Winfield dug out of the rubbish," she said. "She must have found your notes, Uncle. She must have read the outline of my plan-"

"A plan to which I am adamantly opposed," Bill interrupted.

Gina sniffed. "Bill's been your staunch defender, Derek. I'm surprised he has any voice left, after arguing so forcibly on your behalf, but Uncle's mind is made up."

Simon stepped into the fray. "Will someone please tell me what's going on?"

"Don't be naive, Simon," Claudia drawled. "Even I've been able to guess that Uncle Edwin intends to disinherit Derek."

"What?" Simon looked thunderstruck. "Don't be absurd, Claudia. Uncle Edwin would never disinherit his own son."

Derek swung around to face him. The heartache he felt for Winnie erupted in a blast of anger directed at his cousin. "Stop pretending, Simon. Winnie was right. You've been angling for my position ever since we were children."

Oliver tried to intervene. "Derek, I don't think you understand-"

"I understand everything," Derek broke in. "The moment my back was turned, Simon was there. 'Watch me ride, Uncle Edwin, watch me dance. Read my school reports, introduce me to your friends, choose my wife for me. . . .' Your ambition would be laughable if it weren't so disgusting."

I would have fled from Derek's taunting, but Simon held his ground.

"If I was there, Derek, it was because your back was turned," he said. "Someone had to help Uncle Edwin. Someone had to be there for him after Aunt Eleanor died, and you weren't."

Derek rose to his feet, fists clenched. "Don't you dare bring my mother into this."

"Your mother's at the very center of it," Simon retorted. "If you hadn't spent so much time trailing after the carpenter, you'd know-"

"Now you're going to insult Mr. Harris?" Derek's voice rose in disbelief. "Mr. Harris was a better husband than my father ever was. Mr. Harris's wife never left him."

I stared at Derek, aghast, knowing he'd spoken in ignorance and wis.h.i.+ng I could hold back the avalanche of harsh truth that was about to hit him. But there was no holding it back.

"Your mother didn't leave your father." Simon bit off each word and spat it out angrily. "She died, Derek. She died of cancer. She took a year to die, and when she was done, your father would have turned to you, but you'd already shut him out." Simon paused to catch his breath. "So he turned to me. I've spent my entire life making up for your shortcomings and I've paid for it, oh, how I've paid."

Gina stood. "You're about to be repaid, Simon. Uncle Edwin, would you please make your announcement?"

The earl didn't seem to hear her. He was staring at Derek as if mesmerized. "Anthony," he said softly, "have you believed, for all these years, that your mother abandoned you?"

"She . . . she left me because of you," Derek faltered.

"No, my boy, no." Lord Elstyn pushed himself up from his chair and came to stand before Derek. "She wanted to protect you. She didn't want you to see her suffer. She wouldn't allow me to bring you to her." The earl seemed to shrink beneath the weight of memory, and his voice sank to a broken murmur, but his eyes remained fixed on Derek's. "She lost her hair, her fingernails, her teeth. Her skin turned gray, her body shriveled. You were her darling child, the only child she would ever have. She didn't want you to remember her that way. She wouldn't let me tell you. . . ." The earl shook his head. "I meant to explain when you were older, but time slipped away. You were at school, at university-and then you were gone."

Derek looked heartsick and confused. His voice trembled as he said, "Father?"