And past time to make her admit she wanted exactly the same thing.
Nineteen
“I daresay, if my purpose was to get the entire family here at the same time, it would have been next to impossible.” Camille sipped her tea and glanced around the small ladies’ parlor that had long been her mother’s private sanctuary.
Mother had invited her daughters to join her for tea, although invite was not entirely accurate, as there was no possibility of refusal. Mother tended to do that on occasion, when she was feeling particularly sentimental or there was something of a serious nature to discuss. Grayson had gallantly volunteered to keep an eye on the others. He really was trying to help. It was most endearing of him. Perhaps it was time to tell him she was no longer trying to garner a proposal from Nikolai but rather avoid one. Perhaps he had earned that. And then, who knew what might happen?
“Now that it is most awkward to have everyone here,” Camille said, “you tell me Uncle Basil has arrived as well.”
Beryl and her mother traded glances.
“Unfortunately,” Mother began. “Basil is not feeling quite his usual self—”
Beryl choked on her tea.
“And he thinks it’s best if he takes the next day or so to rest and recover his strength.” Mother continued. “I suspect he may not join us until Christmas.” Mother smoothed her hair. She had seemed a bit disheveled this afternoon, which was decidedly odd as she rarely had a hair out of place. While it could be attributed to her assistance in the decoration of the house, it was not at all like her. “Besides, given the current circumstances, he thought it might be wise not to add yet another player to your cast.”
“Oh, dear.” Camille frowned. “I do hope it’s nothing serious.”
“I doubt it. He has always been a hardy sort.” Mother waved off the comment. “Although, for now, he has taken to his bed—”
Beryl coughed.
Mother cast her a sharp look. “Only as a precaution, mind you. It’s no doubt nothing more than the strain of travel.”
“I hope so, as there is no additional staff to attend to him,” Camille said. “But I would like to spend some time with the dear man as soon as I can reasonably absent myself from the others. Even now, I’m not at all pleased at having left Nikolai in Grayson’s charge.”
“I’m sure Grayson is more than up to the task,” Mother said.
“I can do that. See to Uncle Basil, that is,” Delilah said. “You already have a great deal to juggle without having to worry about him as well.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you.” Camille smiled at her younger sister. “And most appreciated.”
“Well, if your deception isn’t successful, we shall all suffer the consequences,” Delilah added with an offhand shrug.
“I think it’s a splendid idea.” A thoughtful note sounded in Mother’s voice. “You’ve scarcely spent any significant time with your uncle at all since your marriage. Not like when you were a child. You can take the opportunity to . . .”
“Get to know him?” Beryl suggested.
“Reacquaint herself with him,” Mother said. “I daresay, he has all sorts of fascinating stories he has yet to tell. He’s lived quite an adventurous life, you know.”
“No doubt,” Beryl said in a dry tone.
“Delilah,” Camille began slowly. If she truly meant to make things right with her younger sister, there was no time like the present to begin. “I fear I owe you an apology.” She shot a pointed look at Beryl. “We both do, don’t we?”
“Yes, yes.” Beryl sighed in surrender. “We’ve been dreadful.”
“What are you talking about?” Delilah’s eyes narrowed. “What have you done?”
“Nothing, really,” Camille said quickly. “And therein lay the problem.”
Delilah’s suspicious gaze shifted from Camille to Beryl and back. “What problem?”
“Perhaps it’s simply that it is Christmas,” Camille began. “Or the fact that I have invented a family or that my own family is now here, or—”
“Grayson,” Beryl muttered.
“Beryl,” Camille said sharply. “What on earth is the matter with you today? You are even more ill-tempered than usual.”
“Well, perhaps it’s to be expected,” Beryl snapped. “Given that—”
“Beryl,” Mother warned.
“Given that nothing is quite going as planned.” Beryl huffed. “Although I suppose I can try to be more pleasant.”
“That would be most appreciated.” Camille studied her twin curiously. Beryl did have a tendency to be overly sharp, but this wasn’t at all like her. Still, she was right. Nothing was going precisely as intended, and it did make one tend to be a bit snippy. Camille turned her attention back to her younger sister. “As I was saying, Beryl and I have come to the realization that we haven’t been the sisters we should have been and we have resolved to change that.”
“Have you?” Suspicion sounded in Delilah’s voice. “Why?”
“Because one never knows how much time one has.” An adamant note sounded in Beryl’s voice. “Because one minute there is someone you have paid no attention to whatsoever, because they have always simply been there, and you always expected they would, and the next minute they’re gone. And there is nothing you can do about it, because it’s entirely too late.”
Camille stared. Beryl was certainly taking this reconciliation with Delilah far more seriously than Camille had expected. Their younger sister stared as well. Mother reached out and patted Beryl’s hand. “Well said, dear.”
“What if it is too late?” Delilah said slowly. “What if what is done cannot be undone?”
“Death is the only thing that cannot be undone,” Mother said firmly.
“One would think,” Beryl said under her breath; then her eyes widened as if she were surprised by her own words. “Just a thought, nothing of significance.”
Mother continued without pause. “Which is not to say you should not make your sisters earn your forgiveness and your friendship.” Mother’s gaze slid from Delilah to Beryl. “Being willing to forgive is not the same as being weak. Indeed, it takes a great deal of strength to accept someone else’s acknowledgment of their mistakes. Especially if said mistakes have hurt you deeply. To allow amends to be made is not at all easy.” Her gaze shifted to Camille. “One must decide whether one wishes to hold on to one’s pain and anger or release it. And is the cost significant or little more than pride? It can be an enormous relief to at last let go of anger that one has harbored for a long time. Forgiveness can, as well, be the rekindling or even the beginning of something worth having.”
For a long moment, the three younger women stared at their mother. Forgiveness was one thing their mother had never especially embraced. Still, she was right. Wouldn’t Camille gain so much more from forgiving Grayson than she did by holding on to her anger? If, of course, she hadn’t forgiven him already.
“One must also consider one’s own culpability in another’s mistakes,” Mother added. “Would something that has grown so large have been relatively minor if one had only acted at the time?”
Indeed, if Camille had gone after Grayson, instead of expecting him to return for her . . . If she had told him of her own feelings . . . If she had taken the next step. Certainly, her mistake was far less significant than his, but nonetheless it was a mistake.
“I haven’t been very nice to you either,” Delilah said abruptly. “Why, I’ve never invited either of you to my house. I’ve never included you in a dinner party or a soirée or anything of that nature.”
Beryl’s brow furrowed. “You have dinner parties and soirées?”
“Quite lovely ones too,” Mother said in a confidential manner. “Her parties are most delightful. You have no idea what you’re missing.”
“Apparently.” Beryl stared at the younger woman.
Delilah beamed at her mother’s praise.
“We certainly cannot take offense, as we have not invited you to our gat
herings either. However, that is now in the past,” Camille said. “If, of course, this is something you wish to pursue as well.”
Delilah looked at one twin, then the next.
“Go on, dear,” Mother urged. “Tell them you accept their offer of friendship, their olive branch, as it were.”
“Well, yes, I suppose,” Delilah said thoughtfully. “I daresay, it won’t be easy. I haven’t been at all fond of either of you for as long as I can remember.”
“How perfect, then, as we are all starting in much the same position.” A weak smile curved Beryl’s lips.
“Excellent.” Camille smiled at her younger sister. She didn’t actually dislike Delilah; she simply hadn’t given her any particular thought throughout the years. “You should know I am most grateful for your assistance in carrying out my little Christmas farce.”
“It seems to me, you need all the assistance you can get,” Delilah said in a wry manner.
“She is perceptive.” Beryl gave her younger sister a reluctant smile. “I’ll give her that.”
“Do you know”—Delilah took a sip of tea—“on occasion, while I don’t look the least bit like you two—”
“Oh, you have the same eyes, dear,” Mother said. “All of you.”
“I have been told that I remind people of you.” She looked at Beryl.
Beryl sniffed. “Nonsense.”
“You poor dear.” Camille bit back a laugh. “You shall have to work on that flaw in your character.”
Delilah’s eyes widened slightly, as if she couldn’t believe one twin was sharing a joke with her at the other’s expense then smiled. “I’m not entirely sure it’s a flaw. I took it as something of a compliment.”
“Very well, then.” Beryl heaved a dramatic sigh. “I suppose we can be friends, as she has such exquisite taste.”
Delilah laughed. “I still don’t entirely trust you, you know.”
“As we don’t entirely trust you either, it does seem like a good foundation to build upon.” Beryl flashed her a genuine smile. “May I confess something too?”
“If you wish.” Caution sounded in Delilah’s voice.
“I have always rather envied your spirit of independence.”
The younger woman’s brows pulled together. “My what?”
“We have always depended upon one another, Camille and I. You have always depended upon no one but yourself.” Beryl gestured absently. “I find it most . . . admirable.”
Delilah stared. “You do?”
“Well, I daresay I couldn’t do it, so yes I do.” Beryl huffed. “Now, do not expect me to utter any more sentimental nonsense. I have had quite enough for one day.”
“No, of course not,” Delilah said. “One can’t hope for too much at once.”
“I want you all to know how very pleased I am,” Mother said. “I have not been unaware of the differences between you, and I have found them most distressing. However, I have felt it was something you would eventually take steps to rectify.” She picked up the teapot and refilled her cup. “I do try not to interfere.”
The sisters exchanged glances. Apparently, this was one subject in which they were in total agreement.
“Might I ask you a question?” Delilah said to Camille.
“Of course.”
“You went to all this trouble to extract a proposal from this prince.” Delilah chose her words with care. “Yet, now you say you are avoiding a proposal. I find it somewhat confusing.”
“Welcome to Christmas at Millworth Manor,” Beryl murmured.
“There are a number of reasons that failed to occur to me before I began all this,” Camille said. “It seemed like such a brilliant idea. . . .”
“And, as ideas go, Camille, it was indeed brilliant,” Mother said. “I would be hard-pressed to come up with anything more clever.”
“Unfortunately, I had not given it as much thought as I should have before leaping into it.” She thought for a moment. “You must understand, there was a myriad of details to attend to, and I fear I was thinking about those rather than about whether I truly wanted to marry a man I had to deceive about my family. A man who spends much of the time smiling and nodding. And, upon further consideration, I’m not at all sure I wish to live in a castle in a country whose name I can’t remember.” She wrinkled her nose. “Then, of course, I don’t love him, and while I didn’t love Harold, I was quite fond of him. I did think I would love Nikolai one day—”
“After all, what’s not to love?” Beryl cast her an innocent smile.
She ignored it. “But ultimately, as I certainly don’t need his fortune, it seems wiser to marry someone I already love.”
“Well, you’re not getting younger, dear,” Mother murmured.
“I blame my change of heart on Beryl.” Camille smiled at her twin. “As she was the one who pointed out that love might be important in marriage.”
Beryl shrugged. “Who would have imagined?”
“Oh, I see.” Delilah refilled her cup. “I thought it might be due to Grayson. He’s become part of this silly farce and seems to be lending a great deal of assistance, and there is something about the way he looks at you. . . .”
“Do you think so?”
“Don’t you?”
“I don’t know.” Camille shook her head. “It’s all most confusing. I have been angry at him for so long.” She glanced at her younger sister. “But then you don’t know about that.”
Delilah took a bite of a biscuit. “You mean, how he told you he loved you on the day before your wedding, but then never did anything about it?”
Camille stared.
“Mother told me.”
Camille looked at her mother. “And how did you know?”
“Beryl told me, of course.”
Camille glared at her twin. “If I recall correctly, I told you not to tell anyone.”
“Goodness, it was a long time ago. And, I daresay, your memory isn’t very good, as I don’t remember that at all.” Beryl studied the biscuits on the tea tray, then selected one. “These are very good, you know. And I didn’t tell just anyone.”
“Beryl!”
“I told Mother.”
“And I am not just anyone.” Mother sniffed. “Although she didn’t tell me until well after you were married. And I can’t recall when I told Delilah, but it wasn’t that long ago.”
“You told me after Harold died.” Delilah finished her biscuit, then reached for another. “I remember it distinctly, because I recall being shocked at Grayson’s lack of taste.” She froze and her gaze shot to Camille’s. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean, well, I did at the time, but now . . .”
“It doesn’t matter.” Camille smiled. “There is a great deal of water under the bridge among the three of us. It’s to be expected that some of it would, oh, splash about on occasion.”
“There are all sorts of nasty things we have thought or said about you,” Beryl said in an offhand manner. The others stared and Beryl had the good grace to wince. “More of that water under the bridge, I suppose.” She cast her younger sister an apologetic smile.
“I daresay, this will take some getting used to for all of us,” Camille said.
“But well worth it,” Mother said with a firm nod.
“As I was saying, Mother told me about you and Grayson after your husband died.” Delilah poured more tea. “I must say, I was rather surprised he didn’t return to England. I knew he hadn’t married.”
Camille raised a brow. “You did?”
Delilah nodded. “I had a friend, more of an acquaintance really, who was engaged to Grayson’s cousin at the time. She told me he had never married. And, of course, as his investments in American railroads and some other things I can’t recall had made him quite a sizable fortune—”
“What?” Camille stared. “What do you mean by a ‘sizable fortune’?”
“Oh, you know, sizable.” Delilah shrugged.
“Immense.” Beryl nodded. “Almost obscene, really.”
“You knew this?” Camille stared at her twin.
“Everybody knows,” Beryl said casually.
“I had heard a rumor or two about his being successful but I never imagined . . .” She glared at Beryl. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Beryl frowned. “For one thing, I thought you knew. For another, you never asked. Indeed, you expressly forbade me to so much as mention his name. You were quite adamant about it. I do remember that.”
“Does it matter, dear?” Mother asked.
“The fact that he has money doesn’t matter. What matters is that he lied to me about it.” She rose to her feet and paced the parlor. “He led me to believe his circumstances were unchanged.” She stopped and glared at the others. “He introduced himself as a poor relation. Hah! Why would he do that?” She resumed pacing. “And when we wagered over who could hire Mrs. Fortesque—”
“Who is Mrs. Fortesque?” Delilah asked Beryl.
“The cook.” Beryl reached for a piece of molded gingerbread. “I might well wish to hire her myself.”
“He said it wouldn’t be fair, as my resources were so much more extensive than his, and therefore we should agree to offer her the same wages.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Why wouldn’t he want me to know he had money?”
“Perhaps he thought as it made a difference then . . .” Beryl said cautiously.
“Don’t be absurd.” Camille scoffed. “It made no difference then.”
“But did he know that?”
“Oh, there was a comment about how I would marry him if he had money, and how, as he didn’t, it didn’t matter. Something like that.” She shrugged. “But he should have known me better.” Aside from everything else, that was one part of this that had always angered her. “He should have trusted me.”
“He was a boy in love.” Mother shrugged. “They are even more stupid than men in love.”
“I couldn’t have married him, anyway.” She narrowed her eyes. “Not that he asked me.”
“The beast,” Beryl mumbled around a mouthful of gingerbread. She looked at Delilah. “This is exceptional.”
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