“No,” said Mrs Oakengate. “We’re not going to do that.”
“Why ever not?” asked Blake. “Someone has stolen a priceless jewel. Your priceless jewel. Why on earth would you not want the police involved in retrieving it?” There was something in his eyes that Caroline could not fathom. As if he knew something he was not telling. He almost seemed to be challenging Mrs Oakengate.
“I have my reasons,” said Mrs Oakengate. “And those reasons are none of your business. Now, Caroline, I ask you once again, give me the Cariastan Heart back and you will be free to leave here.”
“With everyone thinking I’m a thief,” said Caroline. “I’m sorry, Mrs Oakengate, but that’s not good enough.”
Count Chlomsky stepped forward, and took Mrs Oakengate’s arm. “Dear lady, why don’t you tell the truth about the Cariastan Heart?” He spoke quietly, so that only Mrs Oakengate, Caroline, Blake and Jack Henderson could hear.
Mrs Oakengate’s mouth opened in an expression of shock. “What do you know about it?”
“I will leave it to you to tell the truth, to Miss Conrad alone if you prefer. Then, if she has it – and I do not believe she has.” He bowed slightly to Caroline. “She will be more than happy to hand it back to you.”
“Very well. Caroline, come with me.” Mrs Oakengate swept up the stairs, with her head held high. Caroline hesitated, before following her.
Mrs Oakengate sat on the edge of her bed, playing with one of the sequins on her dress. Once again she looked old and frail. Caroline almost felt sorry for her, until she remembered that Mrs Oakengate had branded her a thief.
“Well?” Caroline stood with her arms folded.
“You can be rather frightening, you know, Caroline,” said Mrs Oakengate. “I’ve never been afraid of my companions before. I’ve always managed quite well to bully them into submission – until they rebelled. And they always rebel in the end.” Her face assumed a wistful look. “You have never been afraid of me, and that makes me afraid. I don’t have the control I used to have. Do you understand what that does to a woman like me, who has always had things her own way? I’m not only older and less pretty than I used to be, but I’m no longer a force to be reckoned with in any other way. It reminds me that one day I will be completely helpless and therefore at the mercy of an unscrupulous companion. Even more terrifying is that I now wonder if that day has arrived already.”
“I’m not a thief, Mrs Oakengate, and if righteous indignation makes me frightening, then I don’t feel I have any apology to make. Count Chlomsky said you knew the truth about something. What is it?”
“If I tell you, then I will lose all the control I have.”
“No you won’t. You’ll just have told the truth. That should empower people. Though I understand that around here, it’s not always the case. There are so many secrets in this house. And not just yours.”
“Very well, I’ll tell you. I’m no longer a very wealthy woman, Caroline. I used to be. My husband left me well provided for, but I live … lived … too well, forgetting that I neither have a career or a husband to support me anymore.”
“I don’t understand. What has this got to do with anything? Is it an insurance scam? Is that what you’re telling me? Did you arrange to have the Cariastan Heart stolen in order to get the insurance?”
“No, good Lord. I would never do anything like that. The truth is, as Count Chlomsky seems to have realised – he was sitting close to me tonight so I daresay he was able to tell – Oh well, you might as well know. I sold the real Cariastan Heart many years ago. The one I was wearing tonight is a fake.”
“A fake!”
“Yes. A fake. It’s worth no more than a couple of hundred pounds as costume jewellery. If that.”
“But surely the sale would have made the headlines,” said Caroline.
“Not if the buyer wanted to keep it private, and so was happy for me to pretend I still had it. It was an ideal remedy for me. I don’t even know who bought it. The sale allowed me to keep my status as the Heart’s owner, whilst the money I got from selling it has funded my lifestyle and should, if I am sensible – which I’m sure you know I am not – keep me into my dotage.”
“I see. I had no idea, Mrs Oakengate, really.”
“So now you know that, will you give it back to me?” Mrs Oakengate’s voice had lost its imperious tone. Caroline began to understand why it meant so much to her to be the Heart’s owner and keep the secret.
She once again felt sympathy for the elderly lady sitting on the bed. She shook her head, sadly. “I honestly don’t have it, Mrs Oakengate. I don’t know who does. But I think you do. There’s something going on. At lunch today…”
“That was just me being a bit silly. I realise now that I’ve been mistrusting the wrong people. It’s certainly nothing that I would want to trust to your confidence.”
“I did not steal it, Mrs Oakengate. I’ve hardly left your side since the lights went back on. Where do you think I could have hidden it? I have no pockets and I assure you this bodice is far too tight to hide a pendant the size of the Heart.”
“That man you’ve been chasing all over the place. Blake Laurenson. He disappeared for a while. He could have gone to hide the diamond somewhere. He’s the sort of handsome devil who talks women into such things. Like your father.”
“He did not talk me into stealing the Cariastan Heart, Mrs Oakengate.” Whether he had helped someone else steal it was a possibility Caroline kept to herself.
“Then it appears we have reached an impasse, because I believe he did. Go on, leave here tonight. I have no wish to see you anymore.”
“If I leave it will make everyone believe I am guilty, and I’m not,” said Caroline.
“Whatever you do, I do not want you here, sleeping in the next room to me. Get your things and give me the key. I’ll sleep better with the door locked.”
Caroline had no option but to obey Mrs Oakengate’s command. She was only able to attend the abbey as Mrs Oakengate’s companion. She could not be there in her own right. Fifteen minutes later, she stood in the hallway, with her suitcase at her feet and in her own clothes, having been divested of her Lady Cassandra outfit. She had made a point of undressing in front of Mrs Oakengate, to prove she did not have the Heart about her person.
She wondered what on earth she could do next and wished her Aunt Millie were there to talk to. Millie would know what to do. If nothing else, she would believe unstintingly in Caroline’s honesty. With that thought came action. Caroline carried her suitcase downstairs into the hall. Most of the guests had dispersed, perhaps having lost the party spirit. A few hardy souls still danced in the ballroom. She could see others through the open drawer of the drawing and dining rooms, chatting, presumably about her. Blake was nowhere to be seen.
Caroline picked up the phone from the side table, and took it into the small sitting room off the hall, stretching the cable as far as it could reach. She shut the door, sat down on the floor and dialled the operator to request the number. The Haxbys' telephone rang and rang, until Caroline almost gave up in despair. Then Uncle Jim’s sleepy, but soothing tones, came on the line. “Hello, who is this?”
“Uncle Jim, I’m sorry to bother you so late. Is Aunt Millie there? I really …” At the point all Caroline’s normal self-possession crumbled, and she burst into tears.
“My dear child, what is it?” said Jim Haxby. “Come on, tell your Uncle Jim all about it.”
Caroline poured it all out between sobs. About Blake, about the prince, and about the Cariastan Heart having been stolen, with her as the main suspect. “I’m so confused, Uncle Jim. I want to come home,” she said when she had finished.
“Of course, you don’t even need to ask. Aunt Millie and I will drive up tonight and be there by the morning. Now you sit tight and I promise you that everything will be alright.”
“Thank you.”
“Caroline, did I hear you mention that Count Chlomsky was there?”
“Yes, tha
t’s right.”
“Go to him and ask for his help. He’s a good man.”
“I rather think he’s on Mrs Oakengate’s side. He’s in love with her.”
“Really? Good lord. That’s a turn up for the books. But I believe the Count is also on the side of truth. If there’s anyone you can trust in that house, it’s him. Meanwhile, try to remember everything you can about the other guests. But also about the people who live in the house. This Blake Laurenson, the staff. Anyone. We’ll go over it all with you tomorrow and see if we can’t work out what’s going on.”
“I will. Thank you Uncle Jim.” She put the phone down and wiped her eyes. She turned a little, to hoist herself up off the floor, only to find Blake standing near the fireplace, watching her.
“Darling…” he said, moving towards her.
“No, don’t,” she said, gulping back a sob.
“Is this what I’ve done to you?”
“No, you can’t take all the credit.” Caroline stood up, unsteadily, and wiped away a stray tear. “As you no doubt heard when I was talking to Uncle Jim, Mrs Oakengate has fired me. I have to leave here, but I can’t until the morning. So until then, I’d prefer you to leave me alone. It will be hard enough … hard enough to go as it is.” Her voice cracked, and in an instant Blake was across the room, taking her in his arms. She tried to push him away. “I have to go to Count Chlomsky. I can trust him.”
“You can trust me.”
“No, I can’t because you’ve lied before about who you are – several times - and I think you’re continuing to lie.”
“I’ve told you, it makes no difference to who I am.”
Caroline stood back and held him at arm’s length. “Yes, it does. Don’t you see? If you’re part of this plot to steal the Cariastan Heart, and you’ve allowed me to be blamed for it, it does make a difference. It doesn’t matter how badly you feel about it now, the fact is you let it happen.”
“I haven’t lied to you several times. I haven’t lied at all. The only sin I’m guilty of is omission. I did work on a Hitchcock film as a runner, but a few years back, when I was wandering around the world trying to decide what to be. I am a political reporter. This year at least, until I decide I want to be something else. You saw that for yourself in the newspaper. My grandfather does own this house. Come with me.” He took her hand and led her to a small bureau near to the window. He reached under the bureau and pulled something from the bottom. It was a key. Inside the bureau drawer were family photographs, presumably put away whilst the house was open to strangers.
“Look,” he said. “That’s me at the age of ten with my mother.”
“She’s very beautiful,” said Caroline. She could see the man in the boy who sat proudly next to his mother in the picture in a pretty Italian garden that she recognised as being to the side of the abbey.
“She was. She died when I was twenty-five. There isn’t a day goes by that I don’t miss her. And this one here, that’s me taken last summer with my grandfather. You can see the abbey behind us. Look, there’s old Stephens behind us.” In the picture, Blake stood with his grandfather in front of the house. They both wore cricket whites, and looked relaxed and happy. The love between them shone out from the photograph.
“Stephens seems to have a knack of ending up in photographs,” said Caroline, her heart feeling less heavy than it had been. Here at least was solid proof that Blake had told her the truth about his family. “He’s in the background of the one with your mother too. Who’s that with him?” Next to Stephens was a short young man of about twenty.
“His son, Ronald, I imagine. If I remember rightly, he visited that year, but I didn’t really know him.” Both Blake and Caroline stared at the picture, then at each other. The man was much younger, but still recognisable.
“It’s the prince,” said Caroline. “Oh I’ve been so stupid!” she exclaimed. “Stephens told me that his son went off to become an actor, then said something about it only being a bit of fun. Or… even if it was only a bit of fun. The prince isn’t the prince at all. He’s an impostor.” She expected Blake to show similar surprise, but he did not. “You already know that, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve known it all along.”
“Yes.” Blake spoke as if his voice were constricted. “But I didn’t know he was Stephens’ son. I honestly didn’t recognise him.”
“How did you know he was an impostor, Blake?” Before he could answer her, the layers fell away and she saw the truth without him having to tell her. His mother had been beautiful. It was natural that such a woman could win the heart of a playboy prince, albeit briefly. “I take it your mother wasn’t really a chambermaid.”
“She was for that summer,” said Blake. His face had turned ashen. “My grandfather insists we all learn the business from the ground up. I spent a summer as a bellboy a few years back. It’s so we understand what the employees have to deal with.”
“Is that why you wanted to run away? Why you’ve been running all your life, trying different things?”
“What do you think?”
“I think the reason you’ve run away from everything else is because deep down you know what you were born to do.”
“For God’s sake, Caroline. Just because I’m the son of a prince does not make me the right person to run Cariastan! It’s like I told you, knowing that does not change the person that I am. I’ve never stuck to any job for more than a few months.”
“You cared enough to come here and find out about the impostor,” she said softly. She could see the turmoil in his face. The fear of doing the right thing only to find out he fails the people of Cariastan.
“I wanted to know what his game was,” said Blake. “If he was after the throne, I might have come forward, rather than it go to some conman. Now I know that all he wanted was the Cariastan Heart. So no one need ever know who I am.”
“Blake…”
“No, don’t look at me like that, darling, please.” Blake ran his fingers through his hair. “This is exactly why I didn’t want you to know. You think I should do the right thing. Come forward and lead the country. But don’t you see what that means?”
Caroline nodded. She understood completely. “It means you can’t be with me. That you have to find a suitable wife. Not a commoner and most certainly not the daughter of two notorious spies.”
He pulled her to him and kissed her. Whether he knew it or not, to Caroline the kiss tasted of goodbye. It tasted of their salty tears. “Which is why no one need ever know who I am. Not even the people in Cariastan know me. I’m just a rumour. A myth. My father’s advisors did a good job on that. My own father did a good job of that,” he said, bitterly. “As soon as he began to realise my uncle was not going to produce an heir, he threw my mother aside and replaced her with some dull girl from the European nobility, whose family were so inbred that she could not give him a child anyway. The minute I come forward, they’ll insist on ordering my life to suit their purposes. I’ll lose all the freedom I’ve enjoyed, including the freedom to love the woman I was meant to love. Isn’t the Prince of Wales going through the same crisis at the moment, with Mrs Simpson? I will not allow the Cariastan government to treat you the way she’s been treated by the British government.”
“I can’t stop you from doing what’s right,” said Caroline. “I would never forgive myself if my selfishness led to Cariastan being destroyed, and I know deep down that’s how you feel. It would not give you so much anguish if you didn’t know in your heart that going back there and protecting your people from Russian or German tyranny was the right thing to do.”
“I am afraid,” said a voice from the doorway, “I would have to agree with Miss Conrad on this matter.” Count Chlomsky entered the room and shut the door. He walked to Blake and bowed. “Your Royal Highness, I have been looking for you for a long time. As I did not know your father, I did not see the resemblance. But Mrs Oakengate did, at lunch today, and realised that the impostor
had made a fool of her. Your people need you, Your Royal Highness.”
“You forget, both of you,” said Blake, “that they’re not my people. Myself and my mother were expelled from the country.”
“That is neither here nor there,” said the Count. “The people talk of you, you know. In the bars and taverns. They speak of you as their saviour. In the current climate, you know as well as I do that you will be welcomed as a prodigal son. You are everything they would want their prince to be. Charming, handsome and intelligent. Even more so as your links with Britain mean that the government here is willing to help you in any way possible to prevent invasion.”
“In return for trade links, no doubt.”
“Cariastan does have some rather good oil fields, as you know.”
Blake went over to the sofa and sat down, putting his head in his hands. “Are either of you going to give me any choice?” He looked up at Caroline and her heart went out to him. She understood now what he meant by being crushed. He had been talking about responsibility, and it was already starting to sap his spirit.
“Perhaps,” she said, clutching at straws, “you need only do it for a short time. You might be able to find a successor among your relatives over there. There must be someone else who could take your place, once the current problems have been solved.”
“What do you think, Count?” said Blake.
The Count shook his head, sadly. “No, Your Highness. If there were anyone to take your place, they would have come forward by now. It will be a lifetime role. Until you have a son.”
“What? With some pale, inbred girl from the European nobility? I rather think I will die childless – unless all my children can have flaming red hair.”
“You know that’s not possible now,” said Caroline. “But we could …” She stopped, remembering Count Chlomsky was in the room. Perhaps it was just as well. She had been about to offer to be Blake’s mistress, when in reality she knew that a clandestine relationship would destroy the love they shared. Not only that, but the idea of knowing that he may have a family with another woman, whilst she sat on the sidelines tore her heart to shreds. Better to make a clean break. At least then her heart might start to mend. Continuing an affair would only prolong the agony.
A Collector of Hearts Page 8