Di did not find it so easy to "get over" the sudden and startling revelation of her true feelings for Patrick, and being only human, she spent a good many sleepless nights in agony.
However, unromantic as it may sound, she neither pined away to a shadow nor made herself violently ill by the extremity of her feelings. Indeed, she found, as time went on, that the pain of her new feelings was easier and easier to push to the back of her mind, and while the ache was always there, dully, in her heart, it didn't bother her greatly after a while.
She never told anyone of her love for Patrick, although she longed to cry on Mother's—or Shirley's—shoulder. Somehow, it just seemed too shameful to her that she could be in love with an almost-married man; she just couldn't admit it. For once she was relieved at the great distance between her and her family—she had a sneaking suspicion Mother's keen eyes would discern her difficulty.
Having Leah and Freddy back at the Home was a great help. The children were all a bit in awe of the cool lady with the quiet smile and distant manner, but she was, as she had promised, a great help with all the managerial work.
Freddy's time in Avonlea had changed him for the better. Once so quiet and frail, he was now as healthy and happy a child as one could wish to see. Still somewhat reserved, he positively glowed with life now, and Di actually caught him laughing once or twice as he played with the other children.
He and Peter still spent a great deal of time together, but Freddy was quite happy to spend most of his time with his sister; the bond that had grown between them was lovely to see. He was protective and caring of her, while she petted and pampered him. Had Freddy been a different child, he would have been in danger of being spoiled, but having a great deal of sense in that quiet head of his, he merely blossomed under this new treatment.
Leah and Di's friendship progressed, as well. It was nothing like Di's friendship with Tricia—that had held much of a "mentoring" aspect to it, whereas Leah and Di met as equals, rank and nationality meaning nothing. Both had something to give the other, and both benefited greatly from the companionship.
One sultry August morning, Di was surprised to see Emma ushering Aunt Jen into her office. None of the Home's patrons ever visited without making an appointment, and Aunt Jen wasn't due for another few weeks.
"Is everything all right?" she asked anxiously, noting the worried look in Aunt Jen's green eyes and the angry set of her chin.
"I don't mind telling you, we're in some trouble, Di, my dear," Aunt Jen said at once, sitting down without even removing her hat. "You'd better call Lady Leah in; I think we're going to need all the minds we can get on this problem."
Alarmed and puzzled, Di sent Emma for Leah, who arrived moments later, looking quite composed and only slightly curious.
"My dears," Aunt Jen said, "I'm afraid I have some rather grave news for you."
"Well, what is it?" Di cried. "Don't keep us in suspense!"
Aunt Jen inhaled deeply. "Very well. In the past week, I have had three fellow patrons of the Home—Mrs. David Coleman, Mrs. Franklin Dean, and Mrs. Roger West—graciously inform me that they would no longer be able to support us."
The color receded from Di's face. She felt as though someone had struck her, hard. "Why?" she gasped.
Aunt Jen pursed her lips. "Mrs. Coleman is old Mrs. Kennedy's daughter, and the other two are friends of hers. Di, I'm afraid that Mrs. Kennedy has set herself against you, and consequently, the Home."
"But why?" she cried. "Simply because I'm from the Island? What does she have against us?"
"I'm not sure, but I know it has something to do with her daughter's—unfortunate—marriage," Aunt Jen answered. "Mrs. Kennedy is a stupid, prejudiced, bitter old woman, but I'm afraid she can do quite a bit of damage to us, if she desires."
"Well then, we will just have to fight her, won't we?" Leah interjected calmly. "Di, you know that I will be more than happy to help keep the Home running."
"I won't take your money, Leah," Di said angrily.
"Had it not been for this Home, who knows what would have happened to Freddy?" Leah argued. "I consider it a debt owed to you, considering all you've done for us."
"We can call on Tricia, as well," Aunt Jen said. "Her uncle will continue to support us if she asks him to, and she might even be able to talk her new in-laws into helping. The Girauds have enough money to run several orphan homes single-handedly. We won't give up, but it is going to be a battle. Mrs. Kennedy, if she is determined to ruin us, will not give in easily. She has city councilmen in her court, too, who could certainly cause problems with permits, regulations, and so on."
Di put a hand to her head dizzily. She couldn't fathom what she had done to deserve such bitter enmity from this old lady. She heard the sense in what Aunt Jen and Leah were saying, but her sensitive soul flinched away from the … vulgarity of fighting over all this. She couldn't lower herself to the same level as Mrs. Kennedy … but she couldn't let the Home be closed, either … could she?
"Maybe if I just went and spoke to Mrs. Kennedy," she said. "This has to be a misunderstanding. If I just explained things to her, I'm sure we could work something out."
Aunt Jen looked at the young woman pityingly. "I'm afraid not, Di," she said gently. "Mrs. Kennedy is not like anyone you've encountered in your life before. She will not see reason, and nothing would make her happier than to have you—well, grovel to her, only to refuse you your request at the end."
Di lifted her head, a green spark suddenly flashing through her own eyes. "I would never grovel, not for anything," she said proudly.
"Of course not, but that is how she would look at it," Aunt Jen explained. "No, I'm afraid we either have to fight, or accept the fact that we are going to be shut down. How many children are still in your care, Di?"
Leah answered. "Two children were adopted yesterday, which brings our total down to fourteen."
"Too many to just cast out into the streets," Aunt Jen said.
Di's head seemed to clear at the thought of her children. "One is too many to cast into the streets," she said with determination. "I'll get in touch with Tricia this afternoon. Aunt Jen, could you contact all your friends who aren't intimidated by Mrs. Kennedy? And Leah, I'm afraid we're going to have to use your rank. People who might not care anything about an Island girl would think twice before crossing English nobility."
A small smile played around Aunt Jen's lips. "So we are going to fight?"
Di narrowed her eyes. "I would prefer not to do this, but apparently we have no choice. I will not let this Home be closed, not if I can help it."
"Good girl!" Aunt Jen said decisively. "Right, let's get to it, then."
The next few days were spent in a grim struggle to combat Mrs. Kennedy's work—as the days went by, her handiwork became more and more evident, as one after another patron presented their regrets to Aunt Jen or to Di herself, and withdrew their support.
Some seemed genuinely sorry, but as though they had no other choice, while most appeared perfectly indifferent to the plight in which they were leaving over a dozen orphans.
However, Aunt Jen and Uncle Lewis worked tirelessly to recruit new supporters, while Tricia, now happily settled in Montreal, pledged her help, as well as that of her in-laws. Mrs. Giraud even said she would come speak at a rally to raise money, if necessary.
Leah, however, eclipsed them all. Not only did she wire her steward, back in England, to start funding the Home, she ruthlessly used her rank to overcome every obstacle in their path. When a city official apologetically approached them with a list of injunctions against them, she squelched the poor man so thoroughly that he crawled back to his office feeling as though he had been caught in a steel trap disguised as silk, and barely escaped with his life.
Where people wavered over whether to help them or not, Leah thickened her accent and spoke of "my cousin, the Viscount of Dorney," or "Ah yes, the Duke of Governeur; we used to play with his children in our youth," until the awed listeners were practically kissing her shoes.
Di still hated all of this—it just seemed so cheap—but she knew it was necessary. She would not give in to Mrs. Kennedy!
And so the battle went on, and soon it became evident that neither side would gain ascendancy over the other. That was when Mrs. Kennedy changed her tactics.
The first Di knew of it was when she went to the home of Mrs. Faulkner, a poor, shiftless woman, whose husband was dead, and whose three children were all under the ages of seven. Di had met her in the market one day, and had helped her purchase enough food to feed her family for the next two days.
After that, Di picked up the habit of visiting once a week, bringing food, oil, and other necessities with her, and Mrs. Faulkner grew fond of her, in her own dispirited way. She asked Di once, when she was violently ill with a chest cold, if Di would promise to take her children into the Home if anything ever happened to her.
"I got no family," she coughed, clutching Di's hand with her skinny claw. "And I don't trust non of the asylums around here. Turn my children into slaves, that's what they'll do. Promise—promise me you'll take care of my babies, after I'm gone."
Di had promised, and now she heard that Mrs. Faulkner had just passed away. She immediately went to the shack she called home to take the children, only to learn that they had already been taken charge of by a city official and taken to a different asylum.
"When did this happen?" she asked the neighbor who imparted this information.
The woman, much impressed by her trim apparel and general appearance of smartness, answered readily. "Just this morning, miss. I were with Betty when she died, and as soon as she were gone I sent my man to fetch the undertaker. When he come, an official come with him, and he took the children. I offered to keep 'em for a few days, just 'til they got used to their ma being gone, but he said he were taking them to the Carmelite Orphanage for Girls."
"What about Billy, the boy?" Di asked.
The neighbor shrugged. "The man said Billy would get sent away, to a boys' school in Mantioba."
Di couldn't understand how all this had happened so quickly, without her knowledge. She thanked the woman, and went right to the Carmelite Orphanage for Girls, where she met with Sister Agnes, head of administration.
"Why yes, Miss Blythe, we were told about Mrs. Faulkner's death nearly as soon as it happened," the sister said. "We were sorry not to be able to take care of the boy, as well, but we did the best we could. The school in Manitoba specializes in parentless children, and he'll be well taken-care-of."
"But surely the children shouldn't be separated," Di argued.
Sister Agnes shrugged. "Sadly, there is no other option."
"Sister, I promised Betty Faulkner that I would take her children in to my Home—the Shirley-Stedman Home—if anything ever happened to her. It was her express wish. Why were the children not given to my care?"
"Why, I hadn't heard anything about that," Sister Agnes exclaimed. "We were merely informed that there were two little girls needing to be taken in, and so we brought them here. I was not aware that Mrs. Faulkner wished them to go to you."
"Well, now that you are aware of it, you may release them to my care," said Di, rising. "And I will write to the school in Manitoba and have them send Billy back."
Sister Agnes looked embarrassed. "I'm afraid I cannot do that, Miss Blythe."
Di sat back down again. "Why not?"
"Well … your Home is not considered an acceptable option for orphans anymore."
"What?" gasped outraged Di.
"I thought something had happened to it … we were simply told that no child would be allowed to go to the Shirley-Stedman Home from now on. Are you telling me that nothing is wrong, after all?"
"Oh, something is wrong, all right," Di said grimly, rising to her feet once more. "But not with the Home."
Without further explanation to the confused nun, she turned on her heel and stalked out.
After explaining the situation to Aunt Jen and Leah, Aunt Jen shook her head.
"I should have expected this. If she can't shut us down financially or legally, Madam Kennedy is simply going to see to it that we have no more children coming through our doors. Once the children we already have are adopted, that will be it. We'll have to shut down, because there won't be any reason to stay open."
"How can she do that?" Di cried, her eyes flashing angrily as she stormed around the room. She hadn't sat down since she returned from the Carmelite Orphanage. "How does she have the authority to block us from getting children?"
"Mrs. Kennedy is a spider, sitting at the center of her web at 60 Gay, and we cannot see all the threads she has," Aunt Jen said somewhat poetically. "I don't know how she did it, but the fact is that the deed is done."
Di planted her hands on her hips. "Doesn't she care about the children? The reason I opened this home was because all the asylums here were overcrowded and did their best to crush every little bit of individuality out of the children in their care. This is a haven for children who won't fit in anywhere else. We're unique among orphanages, and yet all she cares about is her own stupid prejudice! How can she be so heartless?"
"Don't give in, Di," Leah said. "We will fight this, too."
Di finally sat down, throwing her hands up in disgust. "Why bother? Everything we do, she will counteract. It's so pointless!"
"Do you want to give up?" Aunt Jen asked, a dangerous flash in her eyes.
Di was quiet for a moment. Then—
"No. Never," she said. "But there has to be another way."
Aunt Jen rose to go. "Well, think of one soon, Di, because if you don't, it will be the end of the Shirley-Stedman Home."
Author's Note: Mrs. Kennedy viciously attacks! What do you think? Will Di be able to save the orphanage? Let me know what you think of this new situation!