Camilla's Conscience
Page 18
She hadn’t realized how her conscience had turned her into a prisoner, or how the house, with all its memories, had become her jail. But now her sentence was over, the doors had been flung open, and she intended to walk through to freedom. The only way was to sell the house, and this she privately decided to do as soon as Sophie and William’s brief interlude of happiness was brought to an end.
The illicit young lovers were out riding in the park when a traveling carriage bowled toward the house three days after Elizabeth’s disgraced departure. Camilla saw it approaching and her spirits sank, for somehow she felt sure it heralded the final moments of happiness for the czar’s ward and her young English lord. But as the vehicle drew to a standstill and the coat of arms on its door was revealed, Camilla realized it belonged to Elizabeth’s husband, George. He was alone, and looked a little weary as he alighted.
It was another beautiful spring day, sunny, warm, and clear, the sort of day nothing should ever be allowed to blight, but it seemed the sun went behind a cloud as he was admitted. Camilla and Dominic waited in the drawing room as he was conducted up the staircase. She sat in a fireside chair, her hands clasped uneasily in her lap, and Dominic stood by a window, his back to the rest of the room.
Hawkins announced the visitor. “Sir George Oxforth.”
George came in, his quick glance encompassing the room’s two occupants. He waited until the butler had closed the door again, and then turned to Camilla.
“Elizabeth told me everything,” he said without preamble. “When she arrived in London she came straight to me to confess about her affair with Harry. I’m so very sorry, Camilla. I don’t know what else to say.”
She smiled. “You have nothing to apologize for, George.”
“I should have stopped her infidelities years ago. For what it’s worth, she’s desperately sorry about the whole business. Falling out with you has made her study herself properly for the first time. She doesn’t like what she sees. Nor do I, but I still love her,” he added under his breath.
Dominic turned. “We can’t help falling in love, George.”
“Don’t I know it. I’ve tried to remain immune to Elizabeth’s liaisons, but it’s impossible. Learning about Harry was the final straw, and I told her so. I said we should separate, but she begged me to reconsider. She swears she’ll be a true wife from now on.”
“Do you believe her?” Dominic asked dryly.
George shrugged. “I don’t know. All I can say is I’ve never seen her so low and broken before. Maybe she means it, but she’s always been such a consummate actress that it’s impossible to tell.”
Camilla looked at him. “I think you can believe her, George,” she said after a moment.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I’ve always believed that by the time she realized your worth, it would be almost too late. I don’t know if it’s too late for you or not, but I do know that when she left here no one even spoke to her. In one fell swoop she’d lost the regard of her brother and her oldest friend, and who did she run to? You.”
He smiled bitterly. “Yes, good old dependable boring George.”
“You say you still love her. If that’s so you must give her one last chance. For your own sake, if not for hers.”
He looked quizzically at her. “Why are you pleading on her behalf? After what’s happened, I’d have thought you’d be the last person on earth to speak up for her. You owe her nothing.”
“On the contrary, George, I owe her a great deal. Oh, don’t think I’m an angel, for I’m far from that. Truth to tell, I’m too content now to bear any grudges.” She smiled at Dominic.
George glanced at them both. “So that’s the way of it, eh? About damned time, too. I could have told you fifteen years ago that the wrong man was getting the bride. There have been times over the past two years when I could gladly have knocked your silly heads together for continuing that pointless feud. Still, better late than never. Anyway, that’s by the by, but you aren’t the ones I’ve really come to see. Where are Mlle Arenburg and William?”
Camilla was immediately anxious. “You have news?”
“I do indeed.”
“Oh, I can hardly bear it. They’re so desperately in love, you see.” Tears filled Camilla’s eyes as she thought of the terrible distress the forced parting was going to cause.
“I know they are. I said that Elizabeth told me everything, and so she did, including how despicably cruel she was to Mlle Arenburg simply because she was the cause of Dominic’s presence here. Camilla, I’m afraid that my wife was originally anxious to keep you buried away here in the country, because that meant you would not encounter Dominic, who knew the full truth about her liaison with Harry. Then you went to London anyway, and she was in a lather because he was in town as well. It was her worst nightmare when you actually spoke to him at Carlton House, but it seemed to pass off without event and she relaxed again. Then she found out he was to come here and actually stay beneath this roof, and she became quite distraught. She saw it all as Mlle Arenburg’s fault, for if it were not for her, you and Dominic would not have been thrust together like this. It didn’t suit her to blame William, and it certainly didn’t suit her to blame herself for having such a dark and despicable secret to hide. However, she has atoned a little now, as you’ll realize when I tell you what’s happened over the past day or so.” He paused for dramatic effect. “To begin with, Mlle Arenburg’s match with Prince Ludwig is off.”
Camilla gasped, and Dominic’s lips parted in surprise. “Off, did you say?” he repeated.
“Yes.” George was enjoying breaking such astonishing news.
Dominic searched his face. “What’s happened, George?”
“Prince Ludwig is in disgrace.” George glanced longingly toward a decanter on a nearby table. “Must I die of thirst before you offer me refreshment?”
“Forgive me.” Dominic hastened to a small table to pour him a liberal measure from the decanter of cognac standing on it.
George accepted the glass. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Prince Ludwig. Well, he duly arrived with the Grand Duchess Catherine, and was hauled along to Carlton House to be presented to Prinny. However, Princess Charlotte was there as well, and since Ludwig is desperately handsome, she temporarily forgot her betrothal to the Prince of Orange in order to make sheep’s eyes at the Prince of Prussia instead! They said Ludwig saw a chance of winning the future Queen of England, and made the most of his opportunity.”
Camilla’s lips parted. “Made the most? What are you saying?”
“That foolish Charlotte very nearly surrendered her all in a closet! Her ladies realized what was happening and interrupted the pair, but the princess’s gown was in some disarray. This isn’t for onward transmission of course, and has been hushed up with a vengeance.”
“Of course. You have our word,” Dominic reassured him.
“I’ll hold you to that,” George replied. “Prinny’s beside himself with rage, as you can imagine, and Ludwig has already been kicked back across the Channel. Charlotte has been dispatched to cool her heels at Windsor, where her shocked aunts are no doubt making her life wretched. The Grand Duchess Catherine wanted to stir up trouble in Charlotte’s betrothal, which doesn’t suit Russia, but she didn’t envisage Ludwig’s involvement.
“Anyway, the Orange match may be a little rocky, but it still holds good, which is more than can be said for the Prussian match. The grand duchess still hoped to rescue it, but the Russian ambassador is totally opposed and threatened to inform the czar of Ludwig’s manifest unsuitability. No one knows whether or not the ambassador would carry out such a threat, but he might, and apart from that there was word from St. Petersburg that Mlle Arenburg is no longer the czar’s only child—” George broke off hastily, and glanced at Camilla.
Dominic smiled. “It’s all right, George, Camilla knows Mlle Arenburg is the czar’s daughter.”
George relaxed. “Well, there is now an illegitimate son as well, an
d, needless to say, said son has taken up the czar’s attention. It’s no longer of any particular consequence to Alexander whether or not his daughter marries royalty. The grand duchess isn’t a fool and knows when it is best to bow out gracefully from any situation. The Prussian match has therefore been allowed to expire.”
Camilla was smiling broadly now. “So there’s absolutely no doubt that Sophie no longer has to marry Prince Ludwig?”
“None whatsoever.”
Her eyes shone delightedly. “Oh, I’m so glad!” But then she remembered something. “You said Elizabeth had atoned?”
“Ah, yes, I was just coming to that.” George took a sip of the cognac. “You see, the grand duchess was smarting a little that the czar would be displeased because her choice for Mlle Arenburg had proved so shabby, and it occurred to Elizabeth that there was an excellent way for the grand duchess to save face. She therefore told her about Mlle Arenburg being head-over-heels in love with William.”
Camilla’s eyes widened. “Wasn’t that a little risky?”
“No, because Elizabeth rightly perceived that the grand duchess would seize upon it as an excellent reason to give to the czar for wishing to dispense with the Prussian match. No mention need be made of Prince Ludwig’s gross misconduct and disgrace, the czar need only be told that his favorite sister had elected to support the course of true love. The Russian ambassador has been consulted, and is in favor of this new match.
“Word has been sent to St. Petersburg, but the czar’s consent is only a matter of course. He’s certain to accept his sister’s new suggestion because as the future Earl, nay, Duke of Highnam, William is actually a tolerable match for Mlle Arenburg, who is, after all, now only the lesser of the two imperial by-blows, if you’ll excuse the rather vulgar expression.”
But Camilla wasn’t concerned about the possible vulgarity of the expression, she was too startled by something else he’d said. “Did you say Duke of Highnam? I thought a marquessate was the expected thing.”
“It was, but the grand duchess feels a dukedom would be more appropriate. She has let Prinny know she is sure the czar would be personally very pleased if that were to be the case, and Prinny will do it, you may be sure of that. He’s walking on eggshells in order not to offend the czar, and has been making himself ill over this whole Arenburg debacle. He dreaded the czar discovering what happened at the ball, and sees this new development as an ideal solution. All can now be safely swept under the royal carpet, if you see what I mean.”
“So the prince won’t be telling tales on William to his father?” Camilla asked, hardly daring to believe all she was hearing.
“Eh? Good God, no. Prinny’s only too eager to let these particular bygones remain bygones. As for old Highnam, he won’t be able to believe his luck when he hears, and is certainly not likely to carry out any threat concerning William’s present betrothal to Alice Penshill. Loyalty to one’s old friends is one thing, becoming a duke quite another.
“You may count upon it, William is going to be welcomed with open arms and congratulated not disinherited for his liaison with Mlle Arenburg.” George took a long breath and beamed at them both. “Ergo, our troublesome young lovers can now return to London whenever they wish, and the wedding they both long for will follow in due course.”
Camilla suddenly felt close to tears. “I—I can hardly believe it. Oh, I wish they’d return from their ride so we can tell them.”
Dominic glanced from the window again. “Your wish is granted, for they’re coming now.” He smiled. “They’ve seen George’s carriage, and fear the worst.”
She hurried to join him. Sophie and William had reined in on seeing the carriage, and their dismay was almost palpable. William leaned across to put a comforting hand over that of his love, and Sophie’s little face was full of misery. Then they slowly continued to ride toward the house.
As they passed out of sight, Dominic’s fingers closed over Camilla’s. “So Sophie’s rosebud-gathering wasn’t such a thorny business after all, hmm?”
“No, and I couldn’t be more glad.”
He looked at her. “Well, they’ll always gather rosebuds now, my darling. And so will we.” He hesitated. “Leave this place, Camilla, in fact, sell up and start everything anew.”
“I have already decided to do that. This isn’t my home anymore, it’s still Harry’s, and I want none of it.”
Suddenly he drew her fingertips passionately to his lips. “Come to me. It’s where you belong.”
Her heart stopped. “Come to you?”
“As my wife. You were always meant to be Countess of Ennismount, and we’ve waited far too long. Say you’ll marry me, Camilla.”
Joy sang magnificently through her. “Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes, I will.”
Ignoring George, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her fiercely on the lips, crushing her to him as if she were his other self. Which she was.
George smiled, and then turned to raise his glass to Harry’s portrait. “You weren’t properly buried two years ago, but you are now, you old bastard. Good riddance to you at last,” he murmured cordially.
Copyright © 1995 by Sandra Heath
Originally published by Signet (ISBN 9780451182593)
Electronically published in 2017
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.