As the days and weeks stretched into months, very little changed. Aunt Jen did her best, but Mrs. Kennedy blocked their every attempt to move on. Di struggled on, trying to keep her integrity and her fighting spirit. The Blythe stubbornness served her well now; against all odds, she refused to give up.
The one good thing about all this, she reflected wryly, was that it kept her from dwelling on Patrick too much. Visions of having to close the Home kept her awake at nights now, not visions of Patrick married to Elizabeth. Shirley wrote that they had set a date for next spring, but even that news sent nothing more than a dull pang through her heart.
One bright spot came in October, when a wealthy Torontonian couple of Italian descent adopted Elisabetta and Francesco. They had five children of their own, all grown now and moved on, and they wanted lively young faces around their home again to keep them company.
Di was more than happy to give the two children over to small, dark, twinkling Isabella Milani and her husband, the tall and kindly silent Roberto.
Elisabetta took to Mrs. Milani right away, while Francesco shyly watched Mr. Milani from wide eyes, until that man, noticing, drew him near and told him stories about visiting Italy before the War, and the vineyards and beautiful architecture everywhere. Francesco was fascinated at once.
"Thank you so much," chirped Mrs. Milani in her high, fluting voice. "It's been so lonely ever since our little Amaranta married and moved away. She was our youngest, you know … it just hasn't seemed the same without her."
"I'm very happy for you all," Di told her with genuine warmth. "Elisabetta and Francesco are high-spirited, but very well-behaved children—unlike some of our hoydens," she added wryly, catching a glimpse of Bran tearing up the stairs, fist clenched tight around some purloined treasure, his little face alive with unholy glee, as Emma pursued him hotly.
Mrs. Milani twinkled at her from bright dark eyes. "Now, wouldn't life be dull if they were all well-behaved?"
Di laughed, and reflected that even if Mrs. Kennedy succeeded in keeping them from taking in any more children, she would always have Bran!
Di hadn't told her family too much about her difficulties, not wanting to upset them, but Rilla showed up that night, four-year-old Gilly in tow.
"Diana Blythe," she burst out as soon as she was inside. "Why haven't you told us about your problems with old Mrs. Kennedy?"
"Hello, Rilla, it's nice to see you, too," Di said calmly. She picked up her nephew and planted a kiss on his rosy cheek. "Hello, Gilly!"
He beamed at his Auntie Di, and promptly wriggled out of her grasp to go play with the other children.
Rilla tapped one foot on the floor impatiently, glaring at Di from hazel eyes. "Well?" she demanded.
"Rilla, I didn't want to upset you," Di said finally. "You've enough to think about with Gilly and the twins—where are they, by the way?"
"At home with Kenneth. It does him good to have to stay home alone with them sometimes—teaches him to appreciate all the work I do!" Rilla twinkled conspiratorially at her sister before turning serious again. "Di, I can't believe you've been struggling with this all on your own. I never would have found out if Aunt Jen hadn't mentioned something to Mother Leslie, who promptly told me. Now, tell me all about it, so I can help you fix this."
"Rilla …" Di protested, before giving in. "Have you always been this bossy?" she asked resignedly.
Rilla's smile flashed out triumphantly. "It was a habit I acquired during the War. Now, tell."
Di explained everything to her—from the disastrous tea, to the patrons withdrawing their support, to the legal hedges, to the way they were now blocked from getting any more children.
Rilla groaned. "Di, you idiot," she said sadly. "Don't you know that Mrs. Kennedy hates the Saturday Evening worse than she hates the Island?"
"How should I know that?" Di asked indignantly. Really, Rilla was going a bit far. "I don't know anything about her.
"Mrs. Kennedy's daughter married Andrew Stuart, from Charlottetown—he was in the same regiment as Jem, if you remember—and Mrs. Kennedy hated him. Something happened—Ken suspects the old lady had a hand in it—and Mrs. Stuart left Andrew and came back to Toronto with her baby daughter."
"Good heavens," Di said blankly. "Then the rumors about her are true, after all!"
"I'm afraid so," Rilla said. "So that is why Mrs. Kennedy hates Islanders—because she feels that one of them ruined her daughter's life—but she hates the Saturday Evening because Andrew writes for us. That's how Ken and I know so much about this."
"Oh dear," Di said inadequately, seeing how her temper and hasty tongue had inadvertently set this whole train in motion.
"Oh dear, indeed," Rilla agreed. "But don't worry, darling, we'll get through this. Ken is making some rather influential friends, and he's interesting them in this Home. Plus, we're going to have one of our writers do a feature piece on what makes this asylum unique—how your method of raising the children is superior to any other's, how your children are happier and turn out to be better-adjusted and more useful citizens—that sort of thing. Once public opinion swings in your favor, there won't be much Mrs. Kennedy can do against you."
Di laughed suddenly. "Rilla, you're a darling! Here I've been worrying away for months now, not wanting to bother any of the family, and if I'd only told you about this when it happened, you could have saved so much fuss."
Rilla smiled smugly. "I told you so," she said.
For once, Di didn't mind her little sister lording it over her. Instead, she was devoutly thankful for a sister who loved her enough to help, even without being asked.
"So," she said, changing the subject. "How are my beautiful nieces?"
"Well," Rilla said wryly. "I think we misnamed them. Anna's hair is a golden fleece, just like Mother Leslie's, and her eyes are as blue as the Gulf as dawn, whereas Ally has decidedly red locks, and grey eyes that already turn green when she's mad—and does she get mad! She howls louder than any baby I've ever seen."
Di laughed. "Poor little thing. It's easy for you to judge, Rilla, but if your hair was red, you'd understand how painful it is. I don't blame her for howling!"
"My hair was red when I was little," Rilla protested. "I can't help that it darkened as I grew older."
Di touched one of her own fiery curls. "Your hair was never this red. Poor Ally baby! I hope she doesn't envy Anna her golden crown. I loved Nan dearly, but I always wished I could be the one with brown hair."
The two sat and talked about family matters for a while longer, and then Rilla, with a sigh, decided she should get back.
"Ken is perfectly helpless without me—how like a man!" she said with a very good imitation of Miss Cornelia's manner. She gathered up her sleepy son and headed out. Just at the door, however, she turned back and asked solemnly:
"Di, what would you do if … if something happened to this place?"
Di shook her head. "I can't answer that, Rilla. Start again, I suppose, wherever I was led. But hopefully it won't come to that!"
Rilla still didn't leave. "Di … I know you've always been bothered at my matchmaking attempts, but … can you ever see yourself getting married?"
Di hesitated. There was only one man she could see herself ever marrying, but she couldn't share with Rilla about Patrick—she just couldn't. Instead, she said:
"I think I'm destined to be an old maid. And as long as I have my children, I will be content with that."
"But what if you didn't have them anymore?"
Di shivered. "I prefer not to cross that bridge until and unless I come to it," she said honestly.
Rilla evaluated her with one long glance, and then nodded. "Goodnight, dear," she said.
"Goodnight, Rilla."
Not only did Rilla lose no time in setting the campaign to promote the Shirley-Stedman Home in motion, but she also contacted the rest of the family to fill them in on what was happening. Mother and Dad immediately wrote with concern and encouragement, Jem sent reams of advice, and from Nan came the best help of all.
"Dearest of all twin sisters," she wrote,
"How could you not let your old Nan know about this? It's just like you to struggle along in silence, when one word would get you all kinds of help. You are far too independent, my dear sister. What else is family for, if not to help?
"But I'm not going to scold you. Poor dear! You've been through enough already without me adding to your burden. So here is what I am going to do:
"Jerry is friends with some MPs from Toronto—and I am acquainted with their wives! I am hosting a tea tomorrow afternoon, and I shall casually mention the good things my sister is doing for the city through her orphan asylum.
"You know that Jerry has a great deal of influence with government officials throughout the province, and he is going to use it to see to it that the Shirley-Stedman Home is not shut down! Between the two of us, we'll put up a good fight for you, dearest of Di's.
"I know that you are probably wishing you didn't have to go through all this just to keep your doors open—it does seem distasteful, but I've been involved in politics long enough to know that sometimes you just have to work with the system, not against it. So don't fret, Di, and just leave everything to me. This is your dream—I won't let anyone take it away from you!
Love always,
Nan.
P.S. The children send their love—Blythe is four, and the very image of Jerry: black hair, brown eyes (the color is mine, the size and shape Jerry's), handsome as can be! Jerry says Dee looks like me, but she's ever so much prettier than I ever was—no, truly, she is. As for Johnny, I must confess that the other two overshadow him already, but he's just as quiet and good-natured as one could ask. They know all about their Auntie Di, even though they don't get to see her, and I show them your picture every day so that if you ever do come for a visit, you won't be a stranger."
Di was horribly ashamed of herself, but after she received Nan's letter, she just sat down and cried. Somehow, knowing that her family was in this with her made all the difference in the world.
"A family is a beautiful thing," Leah said, a slightly wistful note in her voice. "Yours seems especially good."
"It is," Di agreed fervently, blowing her nose. "I'm such a baby to fall to pieces like this, but I can't seem to help myself," she added with an embarrassed laugh.
"Nonsense," Leah said austerely. "You've held together marvelously well; you deserve a good cry. Well, and so things are going to work out after all! Isn't it wonderful?"
"Yes," Di said. "I didn't think anything in the world could be so wonderful as this."
Even as she said it, the thought occurred to her that having Patrick in her life would be just as wonderful, but she buried the treacherous thought deep down. She wouldn't let romantic regrets ruin this happy moment!