The Australian Heiress

by Way, Margaret

  The little girl twisted her hands together. “My mommy was beautiful.”

  “I’m sure she was.” Camille dared to lay her hand over the child’s.

  The little girl didn’t reject it. “My daddy is very handsome and important.”

  “Yes, he is,” Camille agreed. “Won’t you tell me your name?”

  “Melissa,” the child said, sounding ferocious.

  “How do you do, Melissa?” Camille’s voice was tender.

  “I don’t like my name.”

  Camille looked at the little girl and the little girl looked back at her. Both of them knew the name didn’t suit her. “So what’s your second name?” Camille asked.

  “Claudia, after my great-grandmother. She was an Italian contessa.” This flowed out impressively.

  “Why, that’s splendid!” Camille scooped up the child’s fingers. “I’ve been to Italy. Visited art galleries and La Scala, the famous opera house. I did lots of shopping, too. Do you like shopping?”

  The little girl stared at her. “I’m not allowed to go shopping,” she said in a husky whisper. “Miss Larkins takes me to school. Miss Larkins brings me home. I hate all the mean things she does to me.”

  “Oh, dear. What exactly has she done?”

  Melissa crossed her legs like a little Buddha. “Tons of things. Don’t worry. She hates me, too. She says I’m a very complex child. One of these days I’m going to kill her.”

  Camille sucked in her breath. The child could just as well have said, One of these days Miss Larkins and I are going to play tennis. “But, Melissa, it’s very wrong to want to kill someone.”

  Melissa started banging her bony little knees together. “I said I want to kill her. I know I can’t.”

  Camille was relieved. “We all say things from time to time we don’t mean.” Her voice was soothing. “It’s a way of getting rid of our anger.”

  “Oh, I mean it all right!” Melissa sounded very sure. “She thinks I’m a dummy. When she speaks to me in front of Daddy, she’s pretends to be nice. But when it’s just us, she’s nasty.”

  Camille studied the child carefully. For some reason she believed her. “Have you told your daddy this?”

  “No.” Melissa shook her head. “It would only make things worse. Nannies won’t stay with me.” She paused. “I’ve run away a couple of times.”

  Camille wasn’t surprised by this announcement. “Oh, where?”

  “Quite a way!” Melissa crowed with remembered triumph. “I get so mad. Oh, why can’t I be happy?” The child sighed as if she had an oppressive weight on her shoulders.

  “We’ll have to find a few things to make you happy.” Camille drew an unresisting Melissa against her shoulder. Whether the child approved of this new development or not was hard to say, but she didn’t draw away. “What about getting rid of this big heavy braid for a start? It could be draining your strength. Your hair’s curly. Short, it would frame your face. Make you feel lighter and brighter.”

  “It won’t happen,” Melissa said flatly. “Braids are tidy.”

  “That’s all very well, but they can look dreary.”

  “Nothing can make me look pretty.” Melissa puckered her face into a fierce scowl. “It’s really a tremendous pity,” she added in an uncannily adult voice. “Clare said that. She brings me pencils and paper to draw with. Miss Larkins thinks she’s wonderful. So rich and glamorous!” More imitating the adult tone. “I think they’re both nasty people.”

  They might well be, Camille thought. “Have you any pets?” she asked, trying to distract this unhappy and precocious little girl. For only six she had an excellent command of language.

  Melissa’s expression was smeared by memory. “I had a kitten, but Miss Larkins said I was hurting him. That was a lie. I wasn’t. I only put him in my toy box because Miss Larkins was coming. Salty bothered her. She used to take a swipe at him if he ever sat on the sofa.”

  “And where is Salty now?” Camille suspected the worst.

  “They blamed me because he ran away.” The child’s voice was shrill. “He didn’t run away. She got rid of him. She despised Salty. He was a bit ugly. One eye was white and the other was black.”

  “Why didn’t you call him Pepper or Patchy?”

  “I was thinking about calling him Pepper when he disappeared. Miss Larkins told Daddy it would be better if we waited a while before I got another pet.”

  “Daddy didn’t agree, did he?” Camille’s harsh feelings about Nick Lombard almost broke through.

  “Daddy’s idea of pets are big black dogs. He told me we’d talk about getting another kitten again.”

  “So he didn’t believe your story?”

  “I didn’t tell it very well,” Melissa said loyally. “She wouldn’t leave us alone. Daddy wouldn’t like me to hurt an animal. As if I ever would. I like animals lots more than people.”

  “All the more reason to get to the bottom of what happened to your kitten,” Camille said.

  “My mother adored me,” Melissa said out of the blue. “She said I was the most beautiful girl in the world. Her precious darling. She loved me to bits.”

  “I’m sure she did.” Camille felt strangely upset For herself. For the child. “You haven’t lost her altogether. You could speak to her in your prayers. Speak to God. Tell Him how you feel.”

  “I have bad feelings about God,” Melissa said. “He’s not kind. He’s dreadful.”

  Camille tried desperately to come up with the right words. “It must seem so, Melissa, with all the suffering in the world. Perhaps God can’t do all that much about this world. But He’s promised something better. Maybe the answer is inside ourselves. All of us have to weather the storms of life. I lost my mother when I was your age.”

  “Did you?” Melissa looked at Camille very closely as though trying to spot a falsehood.

  “Would I lie to you?”

  “I think…no. Were you angry?”

  “Oh, yes.” Camille nodded her head emphatically. “The anger takes a while to go. It’s important to remember Mommy is safe with God, who loves her.”

  “It’s so quiet now,” Melissa said with a sigh. “She used to laugh and laugh. She was at parties all the time. Daddy and Mommy knew a million people.”

  “I bet they did.” This child was breaking her heart. She tried to change the subject. “Looking at you, I would say you’re very smart.”

  Melissa gave an odd little smile. “Miss Larkins thinks I’m an airhead. So do the kids at school. Only that’s not what’s the matter with me.”

  “Could you tell me what is then? I’m really interested.”

  Melissa’s small thin body tensed. “I’m smart enough to do anything I want, only I don’t want to do anything. Isn’t that awful?”

  “I can understand it, Melissa,” Camille said after a pause. “You’ve been very sad because you’ve lost your mommy. You need time for things to feel right again. We each have to work out our path in life. Even little girls like you. Being clever isn’t enough. You can decide to hide all your smartness. Or you can show it and make the wrong opinions go away. You can start working to show Daddy, your teacher, Miss Larkins and the other children at school just how clever and capable you really are. You have to decide which is the best way for you. Something good always comes of striving. Do you know what striving means?”

  Melissa nodded. “What Daddy has been doing for a long time. Working very hard.”

  Indeed, her Daddy had been working very hard— to bring Harry to his knees, Camille thought.

  “Sometimes I’m afraid of being clever,” Melissa confided. “I’m different enough already.”

  Troubled, Camille asked, “In what way?” Obviously Melissa was concealing her capacities.

  “I’m ugly and I fly into tantrums. I’m a bad person. I’m a sneak and I’m secretive. I tell lies. I’m spoiled rotten.”

  With so many attacks on her, no wonder she was striking out in self-defense. “Oh, Melissa, this is terrible!
You didn’t make all this up. Who’s accused you of such things?”

  Melissa wrenched her fine lawn nightgown over her knees. “It was a terrible shock for Mommy to have such an ugly daughter,” she said, her voice grim.

  Camille was almost too distressed to answer. “But you said your Mommy adored you.”

  “Oh, yes, she called me her precious princess. She always wanted me beside her. Her lovely little girl. One day I heard Miss Larkins and Clare talking. They were talking about me, so I hid behind the sofa. Miss Larkins said those things. Clare said that how I got to be so very plain she’d never know. She loves Daddy, I’m sure. She’s supposed to be a friend, but I know better. Daddy is so handsome. Everyone thinks so. Mommy was beautiful. I’m a big disappointment.”

  “No, that’s not true!” Anger caught in Camille’s throat. “Your father—”

  “Please don’t do anything to upset Daddy,” Melissa interrupted, suddenly looking worried. “Let them talk. My mother loved me a lot, I know.”

  So engrossed were Camille and Melissa that they failed to see the woman who’d come to the door.

  “So this is where you are, Melissa,” she said, thoroughly startling them.

  The child yelled alarmingly, “Go away! I’m talking to my friend!”

  The woman ignored that and walked into the library. She was fortyish, attractive and competent-looking. “I don’t know where to begin with this child.” She gave Camille a conspiratorial smile. “For such a little girl she certainly makes her presence felt.”

  There must be answers to that, Camille thought. She stood up, drawing Melissa with her. “You must be Miss Larkins. I’m Camille Guilford.”

  “Of course.” The woman shook her head. “I recognized you from your photographs. It’s amazing how Melissa manages to get out of her room.”

  “Surely through the door,” Camille said.

  “She locks me in.” Melissa looked to Camille for support. “I hate getting locked in.”

  “I would jolly well think so,” Camille murmured.

  “It’s only for a short time, Miss Guilford,” the woman said in a brisk don’t-mess-with-me voice. “I don’t think you know just how naughty Melissa can be.”

  And you’re no Mary Poppins, either, Camille thought, but remained silent, unwilling to interfere. It would only confuse and complicate the situation. She was a guest in the house for one evening only. Which was unfortunate in a way, for she and the child had so swiftly found a common chord.

  “Come along, now, dear.” Miss Larkins held out her hand. “It’s past your bedtime.”

  “I want Camille to take me up,” Melissa said rocking back and forth agitatedly on her heels.

  “Say good-night to Miss Guilford, dear.” Miss Larkins became firmer. “She has things to do.”

  “It’s no problem.” Camille tightened her grip on the now trembling child’s hand. “I’d like to see Melissa’s room.”

  “My room—I don’t like it at all.” Melissa lifted her head, brilliant black eyes brimming.

  “Don’t you?” Camille looked down at her in consternation.

  “What did I tell you?” Miss Larkins exclaimed. “Any other little girl would love your bedroom.”

  “I hate it!” Melissa shouted.

  “Let’s go see it, shall we?” Camille said calmly.

  “I really would appreciate it, Miss Guilford, if you didn’t.”

  Camille, her Ice Princess expression firmly in place, turned to the woman. “May I ask why not?”

  “It does the child no good to be indulged,” the woman said.

  “I can’t think for one minute that taking her up to bed falls into that category. I take full responsibility, Miss Larkins.”

  They ran into Nick Lombard in the upper gallery of the house. He had changed his suit for dark gray slacks and a navy blazer with a blue open-necked shirt beneath. He looked younger, almost carefree, his fine head of hair curling crisply from the shower.

  “Ah, so you two have met.” He looked down at his daughter, his face breaking into that beautiful smile. The love and tenderness in his expression quite threw Camille, who hadn’t the slightest wish to soften her opinion of him.

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Lombard.” Miss Larkins had followed them upstairs and now rushed into an apology. “I turned my back on Melissa for just a moment…”

  “Aren’t you a wicked girl!” Nick Lombard looked unconcerned. He held out his arms, and Melissa ran into them delightedly.

  He scooped her up and held her so protectively it almost stopped Camille’s heart. “It’s all right, Miss Larkins,” he said casually. “I’ll tuck my daughter in. Miss Guilford can help me.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Resentment flickered a moment and was gone. “I’ll say good-night, then. Pleasant dreams, Melissa. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “You don’t need to. It’s Saturday, and Emmy is going to show me how to make brownies.”

  Her father tut-tutted as he carried her to her room. “Do you think you can behave yourself for just ten minutes?”

  Camille followed them, quietly observing.

  Melissa buried her face in her father’s neck. “I love you, Daddy,” she said, her little face lit with intense feeling.

  “You’d better!” He made as if to drop her.

  “Camille doesn’t want to marry you, you know. She said so.”

  “I knew that without being told,” he answered dryly. “Actually Camille doesn’t like me at all.”

  “Oh, she does!” Melissa giggled as if her father had made a joke. “Clare said all the women are mad for you.”

  “Except me,” Camille intervened tartly.

  Melissa’s bedroom was enormous, the general impression one of splendor. It was a bedroom befitting a princess, but Camille could see how a little girl might find it overwhelming.

  “See, Camille?” Melissa gestured with one arm.

  “See what?” Her father set her down on the huge canopied four-poster that was magnificent if seen through the eyes of an adult. Nick Lombard tucked his daughter’s feet in and drew up the covers, while the child gazed up into his face.

  “I told Camille I didn’t like my room, Daddy.”

  “I would never have guessed it.” He sounded genuinely surprised.

  “I know, because I told you I did.”

  “So you were just trying to please me? That was silly. If you don’t like it, we can change it. You know that. What is it you don’t like?”

  The rich ambience suited him perfectly, but Camille decided to help out the hesitant Melissa. “Perhaps it’s too big,” she suggested. “It’s a very beautiful room. I’m sure Melissa is going to love it when she’s older, but for the time being it’s a little grand. Has perhaps too much atmosphere. Children have such imaginations.”

  “Indeed.” He stood framed by the golden light, obviously considering. “And I bought the bed specially.”

  “It’s wonderful!” Camille moved closer, winding an appreciative arm around one of the beautifully carved posts. “But perhaps something a little smaller…without the canopy?”

  “Is that all right, Daddy?” Melissa asked in an anxious voice.

  “Of course it’s all right.” He stood staring at his daughter, then into Camille’s beautiful face. She was wearing some light sweet fragrance that drifted beguilingly.

  “I like painted furniture,” Melissa said. She sounded like a different child. Happy, excited.

  “I can see creams and sunshine yellow,” Camille offered, smiling.

  “Oh, yes!” Melissa gave Camille a grateful glance. “Yellow is a lovely color. My best dress is yellow. Aunty Elizabeth sent it to me. She lives in Melbourne. She’s Lady Wyatt, you know.”

  “My sister,” Nick Lombard explained unnecessarily. Camille knew of the connection, as did most people. Peter Wyatt, QC, had recently been appointed to the High Court.

  “Why don’t you think about it, Melissa, while you doze off,” Camille suggested. “I’m sure there’
s another bedroom in the house that would be perfect. You could paint it any color you like. Have pretty curtains and cushions, a matching quilted bedspread. New furniture and a desk. You’d want to do your reading and writing there.”

  “That would be great!” Melissa came close to beaming. “It’s what I want.”

  “Well,” Nick said, “we do have a lot to thank Camille for.” He bent to kiss his daughter good-night.

  “I’m so glad she came tonight!” Melissa declared.

  “So am I. I only wish you’d mentioned that you didn’t like your room to me before.”

  “Miss Larkins said I should never complain.”

  “If you don’t like something, you must come to me,” her father said. “Miss Larkins is here to look after you, but I’m the boss.”

  Melissa grinned. “I wish you’d sack her.”

  “How many nannies would that make?”

  “I try to like them, Daddy,” Melissa said, her eyes huge, serious. “Miss Larkins is the worst, if you ask me.”

  “We’ll talk about this later.”

  Melissa put up a hand and stroked her father’s face. “Can you stay here till I fall asleep, Daddy?”

  “No, not tonight.” He tucked her arms under the covers. “It’s getting late and I’ve promised Camille dinner.”

  “Camille is going to take me to get my hair cut,” Melissa announced brightly. “Aren’t you, Camille?”

  Oh, no, Camille thought. How had she become so involved? The last thing she wanted was a shift in her evaluation of Nick Lombard. Being close to his daughter might ensure that. But she felt strangely drawn to the child. “If you’d like me to, Melissa. We might go one day after school together.”

  “Tomorrow.” Childlike, Melissa tried to pin Camille down.

  “I’m pretty busy the next few days, but we’ll certainly go as soon as I have a chance—if it’s all right with your father.”

  Melissa flashed one of those smiles she “never” gave. “I can’t wait.”

  “But surely she has lovely hair?” Nick Lombard said in obvious perplexity as he and Camille moved toward the door.

  “Of course she has,” Camille agreed quickly, “but I think it would suit her short and framing her face. I know about these things. Trust me.”