Camilla's Conscience

by Sandra Heath

  The minutes passed and she began to feel a pang of remorse for having spoken so very harshly to Sophie, even though the girl had richly deserved it. But the czar’s ward had touched upon the rawest of nerves. What should it matter if Lord Ennismount spent the night in a tavern wench’s arms? What should it matter if he sampled the charms of every maid at the inn?

  What indeed. The answer was obvious. It mattered because Sophie was right, Lady Camilla Summerton was jealous!

  It was a bitter pill to swallow. Camilla stared angrily into the darkness. Oh, curse him! She prayed the serving girl’s bed had bugs so he’d be severely bitten for his sins!

  But she couldn’t hide the truth from her innermost self, for no amount of cursing could prevent the erotic dreams that permeated her sleep that night. In her fantasies she was the serving girl, lying naked between rough sheets as the Earl of Ennismount made fierce love to her. She was at his mercy, his to do with as he pleased, and she cried out her intense enjoyment each time he plunged into her. His need was urgent and compelling, and gratification was all that mattered. He was ruled by his sexuality, driven to thrust deeper and deeper until his desire was released with a convulsive force that shuddered through his entire body.

  The sensuous delights that came to her then were more exquisite than any she’d known before, and the pleasure so acute and unbridled that she dug her fingernails into his back as she clung to him. Soon she wanted more and began to caress him again. She was insatiable, and his potency was her equal.

  How many times he took her in her dreams that night she didn’t know, but she did know that come the morning of All Fools’ Day, she wasn’t the one he was lying with. All Fools’ Day. How appropriate for the singular fool who’d submitted so shamelessly in her sleep. Well, that was where her secret desires would stay—in her sleep! She resolved to ignore him, and take no notice at all of that immoral little flibbertigibbet of a serving girl.

  Chapter 9

  But like all resolutions, it was one thing to make them, quite another to carry them out. Breakfast was awkward. Sophie picked at her meal again and continued to sulk because they hadn’t stayed at the Cross Keys. Dominic, on the other hand, was in what for him was an amiable mood, leaving Camilla to conclude that he had in fact spent a very satisfying night doing all the things she’d merely dreamed about!

  The impertinent serving girl was very much in evidence, and was the life and soul of Fools’ Day. She didn’t miss a single opportunity for raucously tricking her fellow servants, whether it was to tell another maid her shoe was unbuckled when it wasn’t, or to send one of the waiters for a bowl of water that wasn’t required. Camilla began to find the constant squeals of “April fool!” a little too much, especially since between joke playing the girl continued to make eyes at Dominic.

  After enduring it all for as long as she could, Camilla could at last stand no more. She waited until the girl leaned over the table again with a pewter coffeepot, and then gave a horrified gasp. “Oh! How awful for you!”

  The girl turned swiftly. “What is it?”

  “There’s an absolutely huge spider in your hair! Ugh, it’s gone down the back of your neck!”

  The girl gave a scream and dropped the coffeepot as she fled from the dining room, unlacing her bodice as she went. They could still hear her screams long after she’d vanished into the kitchens.

  Camilla smiled sweetly. “April fool,” she murmured.

  Dominic raised an eyebrow. “Tush, madam, that was most unkind.”

  “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

  “No, of course not, but as it happens she isn’t the only April fool around here.”

  “Meaning what, precisely?”

  For a moment he considered explaining, but then thought better of it. “Oh, it’s of no consequence. Please forget I spoke.”

  Nothing more was said, and soon afterward they left the dining room.

  * * *

  The rain had dwindled away overnight, but it was midday before the road was considered dry enough for travel. Sound carried clearly in air that seemed cleansed by the long downpour, and now the weather was almost bracingly fresh. Most of those who’d stayed at the inn were leaving at the same time, and there was a crush of people and vehicles in the enclosed space. Horses stamped and shook their harness, wheels scraped on cobbles, and grooms shouted.

  Dominic handed Camilla and Sophie into the carriage and then went to speak to his coachman, who leaned down in order to listen intently and touched his hat. Then Dominic climbed into the carriage and a moment later it drove out on to the road, followed by the second vehicle containing the servants.

  The horses had to pick their way along the ruts, and the travelers soon found the swaying and jolting of the carriage exceedingly wearing. Sophie remained subdued, saying nothing spontaneously and only replying to questions in monosyllables. But even these brief utterances died away into nothing at all as the rooftops of Wantage appeared ahead and the coachman suddenly reined in. He came to the door and Dominic lowered the glass.

  “What is it, Harper?”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but I fear one of the horses is about to shed a shoe. I think it best if we stop at the Cross Keys to let their smithy take a look.”

  “Very well.”

  Sophie sat forward urgently. “We’re stopping at the Cross Keys?”

  Dominic nodded as the carriage drove on. “Yes, mademoiselle, it seems we are, so your prayers are answered after all.”

  “Oh, but I don’t want to stop there now. Can’t we go on?”

  He searched her face. “We can hardly continue with a lame horse, mademoiselle, so we’ll definitely be stopping at the Cross Keys.”

  “Oh.” She sat back again.

  He continued to study her. “How very unpredictable you are, Mademoiselle Arenburg. Yesterday you wanted above all to go to the Cross Keys, now it seems you’ve changed completely.”

  She didn’t reply, and the carriages drove on into the town. As they drew up outside the Cross Keys, Harper climbed down again and hurried into the yard. Several minutes passed without his return, and at last Sophie sighed dramatically.

  “Oh, where is he? Why does he not come back?”

  “Have patience, mademoiselle. These things take time,” Dominic murmured.

  Harper reappeared, accompanied by a burly smith carrying some implements in his grimy hands. Dominic flung the carriage door open and climbed out to join the two men by the lead horses. Sophie gazed up at the inn’s windows, and her tongue passed almost nervously over her lips.

  Camilla looked curiously at her. “What is it, Sophie?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You seem ill at ease.”

  “I merely wish this journey was at an end, that is all.”

  Camilla leaned her head back, hoping the entire stay at Summerton Park wasn’t going to proceed in the same vein as the journey. If it did, the coming days were going to be an appalling endurance test for all concerned. She could hear the murmur of voices as Dominic and the two men spoke together, and then there was the brief sound of a horseshoe being hammered. A moment later Dominic returned to his seat, and the carriage pulled away once more.

  After a few minutes, Sophie ventured to speak to Dominic. “Is all well now, Lord Ennismount?”

  “Oh, yes, mademoiselle.”

  She smiled. “Will we reach Summerton Park today?”

  “Yes, just before dark,” he replied.

  Soon Wantage slipped away behind, and as the road dried out more and more, so the horses’ pace picked up. The light was just beginning to fade as at last the carriages drove through the village of Summerton and then swept through the lion-topped stone gateposts by the north lodge of the park. Beech trees overhung the drive as it curved down through grounds that were bright with daffodils. The land sloped away toward the river valley where the house was hidden from view.

  The setting sun made a final bid for glory, blazing from beneath the final clouds to bathe the lands
cape in crimson and gold. Birdsong echoed all around, and the windows of the house flashed like tires as the carriages halted by the magnificent Corinthian portico. The birdsong became louder as Dominic flung the carriage door open and alighted.

  Twilight encroached as the sun sank inexorably toward the western horizon, and Sophie shivered as she accepted Dominic’s hand to climb down. There was a raw chill in the air, but the light breeze brought the fresh scent of daffodils and spring blossoms, a pleasant change after the smoke of London. Someone fired a shotgun in the distance and the birds fell silent for a moment. During that brief silence the breeze carried a new sound, soft musical notes that seemed not to follow a tune.

  Sophie glanced across the park. “What is that?” she asked.

  “Wind chimes,” Camilla replied, avoiding Dominic’s eyes.

  “But where are they?”

  Camilla was reluctant to explain but could feel Dominic’s coolly mocking gaze upon her, and so she looked directly at him as she answered Sophie. “They’re on the pagoda in the Chinese garden.”

  Sophie’s eyes brightened. “There is a pagoda? Oh, I must see it!”

  “It’s too late now, but you can see it whenever you wish during the daylight.” Camilla still met Dominic’s eyes. She hated mentioning the pagoda because it held very sensitive, and, for her, embarrassing memories. He shared those memories, but how he felt about them was a mystery. No doubt his calculated amusement now was an indication ...

  Their arrival had been observed and as several footmen emerged from the house, Hawkins alighted from the second carriage to take command. He issued brief instructions as he disappeared into the entrance hall to see if the orders he’d sent ahead had been carried out to the last letter.

  Sophie shivered again. “It is cold, n’est-ce pas?”

  “Yes, it is,” Camilla agreed, turning to Dominic. “Shall we go in, sir?”

  Elizabeth had described Summerton Park as an opulent oriental temple, and so it was. The whole house might have been plucked from Peking, and the same theme was continued in the grounds, with the pagoda and Chinese garden of which Sophie had just learned. It was all the work of Camilla’s late father-in-law, and the entrance hall was the first hint of how greatly he admired chinoiserie of every description.

  The pink-tiled floor was laid in a writhing pattern of black dragons and green-and-gold lotus blossoms, and the gleaming white walls were hand-painted with bamboo thickets where fantastic birds showed off their colorful plumage. Immense gilded lanterns were suspended from a celestial ceiling, and there were more heavenly symbols on the heavily carved fireplace, where flames crackled around a fresh log.

  Camilla turned toward Hawkins. “Is the drawing room lighted?” she asked.

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Good. I wish tea to be served there before we go to our apartments.”

  “My lady.” He bowed and hurried away.

  Sophie was looking around in delight. “Oh, c’est incroyable!” she cried, her eyes shining with approval.

  “I’m glad you like it, Sophie,” Camilla replied, teasing off her gloves.

  “Oh, yes, I like it very much indeed. J’aime beau-coup la chinoiserie.”

  “Which is as well, given that the entire house is furnished like this.” Camilla looked at Dominic, very conscious that this was the first time he’d returned here since Harry’s death.

  He removed his top hat, and ran his hand through his hair as he glanced around the hall, but then felt her eyes upon him. “It hasn’t changed at all, Lady Camilla,” he said.

  “Oh, yes it has, sir, it’s changed in every way now Harry isn’t here,” she replied, moving toward the staircase to conduct them to the drawing room on the next floor.

  He remained where he was. “May I impose on your time for a moment, Lady Camilla?”

  She turned. “My time?”

  “There was a volume about falconry in your library here. I wonder if I might read it while I’m here?”

  She was nonplussed. What an odd moment to choose for an equally odd request. “I—I had no idea you were interested in falconry, sir.”

  “I daresay you don’t know everything about me,” he murmured.

  “I daresay I don’t, sir. Yes, of course you may read the book.”

  “Perhaps we could get it now?” He held her gaze.

  “We? Sir, I know it’s two years since you were last here, but I’m sure you remember where the library is.” She indicated the doorway opposite.

  “I don’t quite remember what the book looks like.” It was the most lame excuse she’d ever heard him give. What on earth did he want?

  “I hardly think I’m any more likely to remember such a book, sir,” she said.

  A frown darkened his eyes, but he kept his voice light. “Nevertheless, I’m sure two will find it more quickly,” he insisted.

  She decided to oblige him. “As you wish, my lord,” she murmured, turning to walk toward the library, which led off the hall.

  Sophie began to follow, but he quickly stopped her. “There’s no need for you to be inconvenienced, mademoiselle.” He beckoned to a footman. “Please conduct Mlle Arenburg to the drawing room.”

  Camilla was a little annoyed, for he behaved as if he were the master here!

  As Sophie followed the footman, Dominic took Camilla’s hand and drew it over his arm to walk toward the library door. “I have something important I wish to say to you,” he explained in a low tone.

  “That much is obvious, sir,” she replied.

  “If it was obvious, madam, why did you remain so boneheaded for so long?” he murmured.

  She gritted her teeth and declined to respond as they entered the library.

  Chapter 10

  The library was an oblong pink-and-gilt chamber, warmed at either end by white marble fireplaces with mantels supported by statues of Chinese warlords. The tall bookcases were adorned with gilded trelliswork, and the specially woven rose-pink Axminster carpet bore a golden design of the Chinese god of thunder. There were ornate dragon pelmets above the tall windows, where heavy pink velvet curtains were tightly drawn against the chill of the night.

  She searched quickly along the bookcases and soon found the book he’d referred to. “I suppose we must keep up the pretense,” she murmured as she gave it to him. “Well? What is it you wish to say?”

  “I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to speak to you alone, but there hasn’t been one, so I trust you’ll forgive the rather clumsy pretext. The fact is I have every reason to think de Marne is somewhere near here, and that he and Mlle Arenburg are in touch.”

  Camilla stared at him. “William? Here? But—”

  “Hear me out. I’ve been observing your maid, and believe she’s very much in Mlle Arenburg’s confidence, probably to the extent of aiding and abetting her by carrying messages.”

  “Mary? Oh, but—” Camilla broke off and thought for a moment. She remembered conspiratorial voices and the exchange of meaningful glances. “You may be right,” she said then.

  “You’ve evidently noticed something.”

  She explained. “But that’s all, I couldn’t say I’ve caught them in anything openly suspicious,” she finished.

  “No, Sophie Arenburg is too artful for that,” he replied, and then went on. “As you know, I concluded yesterday that a tryst had been arranged at the Cross Keys, and today I obtained confirmation.”

  “Confirmation? How?”

  “There was no reason to halt there this morning, my lady, it was simply a ploy. Harper was primed to say he’d found something wrong with the horseshoe, and he took so long to find the smithy because he had something else to do first. I instructed him to inquire of the innkeeper if anyone answering de Marne’s description had been there. Well, such a person had not only been there, but had been asking after us. Not only that, he left about an hour before we arrived, and rode west, which suggests to me he was bound for somewhere near here.”

  Her heart sank. Oh, Wil
liam!

  “I think we may be fairly certain your maid will be involved in any contact Mlle Arenburg has with him.”

  Camilla didn’t know what to say. All she could think of was Sophie’s righteous indignation when it was suggested she and William might have arranged a tryst at the Cross Keys. How wide-eyed and innocent the girl had been as she denied everything!

  Dominic spoke again. “I don’t need to tell you how concerned I am by these developments. It’s imperative that Mlle Arenburg is kept away from de Marne, but it won’t be easy to achieve if he’s hiding somewhere nearby. Short of locking her up...”

  “We can’t do that!”

  “More’s the pity. God damn de Marne for the shiftless sprig of nobility that he is!”

  “William isn’t shiftless.”

  “No? I beg to differ. As far as I’m concerned his entire family is beyond redemption.”

  “You seem to be somewhat prejudiced, sir.”

  “With good reason.”

  She looked quizzically at him. “I trust you mean to explain that remark?”

  “No, madam, I don’t.” He drew a long breath. “Let’s get back to the point. We have to collar de Marne, but confronting Mlle Arenburg won’t get us anywhere because she’s too crafty. I fear we have to be equally as crafty, and the obvious thing is to coerce the maid, but I’m loath to do that just yet for fear of alerting our exasperating young lovers that we’re on to them. I want to catch de Marne, not have him slip away unscathed. It’s best if we keep the closest eye possible upon their every movement, and act when the right moment comes.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “You and I will keep Mlle Arenburg under surveillance, and since it now seems clear the maid is in league with our difficult charge, I’ll instruct my man Thomas to follow if she leaves the house.”

  Camilla’s lips parted. “Before we left the inn this morning, Mary asked if she could have a little time off to visit her family in the village this evening.”