by Jo Victor
Ian’s words resonated with Alex. Something about being alone even with another person there. Something to do with Artemisia, and Oona, and one of Ian’s letters. “Alone! Hah! Ian, that’s it—remember the note you sent me about how Artemisia used to walk the moors alone, pining for Lady Melissa, and how pleased people were that she took along a servant for propriety, since it was pretty much the only respectable thing she ever did?”
“I certainly do remember. Oona even asked Janet about it.”
“And I’ll bet Janet had a hard time keeping a straight face when she did.” She looked at the three of them, smiling at their puzzled faces. “Don’t you see? Artemisia wasn’t roaming the moors in forlorn solitude with some hapless servant stumbling along a few paces behind her.”
Cam eyes glinted in sudden comprehension. “It was Janet, wasn’t it?”
“Yes! She and Janet were out walking together, enjoying each other’s company. Day after day, right under people’s noses, and nobody noticed, because Janet was a servant, and therefore invisible. None so blind, indeed.” Suddenly all her excitement drained away. “Day after day.”
Cam looked closely at Alex. Her face was pale, and her voice trailed off as she said, “Year after year.” She looked properly stunned, although neither of the others appeared to take any notice.
Ian said, “Bravo, Alexandra! Yet another mystery solved. I hope you’re keeping a list.”
“Even if she isn’t, I am,” said Nicola. “In fact, if you don’t mind, Mr. Montrose, I’d like to borrow pen and paper so I can note this down straightaway. I find orderliness and precision so important in administrative matters, don’t you?”
“I quite agree, my dear. I have what you need in my study, if you’ll step this way.”
*
As the door closed behind Ian and Nicola, Cam stepped closer, resting one hand against Alex’s cheek. “What’s bothering you, love?”
Alex wasn’t looking at her, her gaze fixed on something far away. “Forty years.” She sounded horrified, and Cam’s stomach curdled. “I can’t even imagine it.”
Cam tried for a light tone but couldn’t manage it. “It might not be so bad with the right person.” She dropped her hand and turned away.
Lately she’d started telling herself that it didn’t matter that Alex never seemed to want to talk about the two of them, that it didn’t matter that she’d never said she loved her, that she didn’t need to hear the words out loud to know the truth. Maybe she’d been fooling herself. Just like before.
“Oh, sweetheart. That’s not what I meant.”
Cam felt Alex grasp her hand firmly in both of hers, and she turned back to face her, afraid of what she’d see.
Alex’s eyes were full of tenderness, but so sad, and Cam was utterly confused.
“It’s just such a long time. And Janet and Artemisia…Oh, hell”—Alex started tearing up—“I hadn’t thought about the dates before. Everybody used to think Artemisia was alone all those years after Lady Melissa’s death, but she wasn’t. She was with Janet, probably for most of that time. Maybe they had thirty years together, maybe a bit more.”
“That’s a long time. But why does it make you sad?”
“Don’t you see? Janet is the one who was alone. All those years and years and years.”
“Oh, lass.” A chill ran through her and she pulled Alex into her arms. The thought of losing Alex, whenever it happened, however it happened, was unbearable.
Alex turned her head so it was resting on Cam’s shoulder. “One of their poems talks about forever. How can you dare to say forever when you might not even have five more minutes? And if you love someone, really love them, how can you risk putting them through that kind of pain?” She lifted her head and pushed away from Cam. Cam let her go but kept hold of her hand. “I know I’m not making any sense. I’m just scared.”
“So am I.” She lifted their joined hands and softly kissed Alex’s knuckles. “Nobody knows the future, love. All we have is right here, right now. It’s got to be enough, because it’s all we’ve got.”
Alex pulled her hand free and started to pace. “And another thing. Why even think about trying to stay together when you know everything’s going to change? I’m not the same person I was five years ago or even five months—who on earth am I going to be decades from now? Who are you going to be?” She wrapped her arms around her waist as if she were cold. “Or what if it all just goes wrong? My mother and father loved each other once. At least I think they did.” She turned away. “How can you promise forever when you know it’s a lie?”
Hearing the anguish in Alex’s voice hurt, but even so Cam’s heart felt lighter. Alex wasn’t saying she didn’t want them to be together; she was afraid they couldn’t be. It wasn’t much of a difference, but it was enough for hope.
She went over to where Alex was standing, gazing into the fire, and stepped up behind her, laying her hands on Alex’s shoulders. “I don’t think it’s meant to be like that, exactly.” Gently, she turned Alex around to face her. Alex’s eyes searched hers, a silent plea for help. “It’s not like swearing an oath on pain of death or signing your soul away to the devil.” Alex smiled, a little shakily, but it was still a smile. “I reckon it’s more like dancing.”
And just like that, the shadows were gone from Alex’s eyes, replaced with curiosity. Always the scholar. Her scholar. “What do you mean?”
“Well, when you step onto the dance floor with someone, you sort of know what you’re doing and where you’re going, but you have no way to tell what everyone else is going to do, so you know you’ll have to adjust as you go. But as long as you hang on to one another and keep up with the music, generally it works out fine. And even with the odd misstep, it’s still miles better than sitting on the sideline watching.”
She drew Alex into her arms, into a ballroom hold, and led her through a couple of waltz measures, humming under her breath. “Once you get used to the music, and each other, you can even throw in the odd flourish.” She spun Alex gently into a turn, then drew her back into her arms and dipped her, not too wildly, but enough to make her gasp, and finally pulled her up for a kiss.
The sound of applause from the doorway brought her up short. Letting go of one of Alex’s hands, she stepped to the side and turned to face Ian and Nicola, bowing as Alex curtseyed.
“What a pity we won’t be having dancing this evening,” said Ian. “You two would certainly bear away the palm. Well, my dears, I think it’s time for us to depart.”
Chapter Twenty-five
At first the banquet went pretty much as Alex had expected. The evening began with cocktails and canapés, which would doubtless have been delightful under other circumstances. Rosamund, resplendent in a strapless gold lamé gown that was camped right on the line between daring and déclassé, held court in one corner attended by a tall, dark, and trouser-suited type who was certainly impressive looking—if you liked your women handsome, sophisticated, and ice-cold.
Meanwhile, Alex stayed far away, glad of Cam’s reassuring arm around her, chatting with her and Nicola and pretending to enjoy herself while Ian and the other Foundation members circulated, stopping by to exchange pleasantries while dividing their time between her group and Rosamund’s so precisely she suspected they had a timetable.
Alex never really relaxed, but whenever someone from the press came over her insides congealed. Then she did her desperate best to be utterly boring, a bland smile fixed in place as she tried to say nothing at all in as many words as possible until they went away.
Cam whispered in her ear, “You’re good at this. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear there was nothing in your head but fluff and feathers.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. I think.”
Finally it was time for the meal. Alex noted with some amusement that, unlike most official dinners she had been to, the dais at one end of the room contained only a podium and microphone backed by a large poster with the Foundation’s logo. There was no tabl
e elevating certain favored diners above the hoi polloi; instead, everyone was seated at round tables, with the press, her group, and Rosamund’s rigidly segregated and Foundation representatives carefully sprinkled among them in equal numbers.
She was quite surprised that the meal was edible. It wasn’t exactly gourmet, but it was definitely several steps above the under- or over-cooked shreds of defenseless vegetables and flavor-free chicken drenched in some gluey, over-seasoned sauce that was usually offered in place of food at a catered dinner. She was too on edge to do it justice, but at least she had an actual meal to push around her plate and make designs with.
*
Cam was getting tired of watching Alex pretend to eat. She was on the verge of saying something when she noticed Ian headed their way, accompanied by a man who had lawyer written all over him. Something was up. She glanced around the room and spotted Rosamund standing by the door next to another solicitor type, the one who’d been at her elbow all evening. Probably her latest lover as well—Rosamund was never one to waste an opportunity. On the surface she looked tough, but Cam had seen the way she hung about Rosamund and recognized the signs—the poor woman was like a cat on hot bricks, in constant fear of Rosamund’s displeasure.
Ian murmured something to Alex that Cam didn’t catch, but when Alex rose, she did, too. Ian gave her an assessing look, then nodded as if in approval. Taking Alex’s arm, Cam followed him and the other man over to the doorway where Rosamund and her companion were standing. Ian led the group out into the hallway and into a nearby meeting room.
*
Alex looked around the room, noticing that the man with Ian had a portfolio under his arm that he placed in front of him on the conference table. As Ian invited everyone to be seated, Alex gave Cam’s hand a quick squeeze, very glad for her company. Ian introduced the man, who proved to be the Foundation’s chief legal counsel, and Rosamund introduced tall, dark, and glacial, who had been looking down her nose at Alex the entire time and who turned out, not surprisingly, to be Rosamund’s solicitor.
Alex started to introduce Cam but found herself interrupted when Cam spoke up for herself.
“Ey up, all. Dead chuffed to make your acquaintance, squire, miss.” Alex almost choked. Cam had a big, goofy smile on her face, and she sounded like she’d just stepped off the set of Wuthering Heights after playing Third Bumpkin from the Left in a crowd scene. All she needed was a piece of straw between her teeth and a five-bar gate to lean on.
Alex barely managed to keep a straight face. From Ian’s expression, he was having a similar difficulty.
Still grinning, Cam turned to Rosamund. “Now then, Rosamund, keeping well, eh? Tha wert right mardy last time I saw thee, but now tha looks happy as a pig in muck. Nothing like the prospect of a bit of brass to cheer folk up, Mum always said.”
Ian succumbed to a coughing fit, both lawyers looked as if they’d swallowed something unpleasant, and Rosamund was turning an interesting shade of puce that clashed wildly with her hair. Although Alex doubted Rosamund had understood Cam’s exact words much better than she had, the gist was crystal clear.
Alex decided it was time to put her rehearsals to use. She took a moment to settle herself, hoping her expression was suitably nonchalant. “Yes, Rosamund, it’s good to see you looking well.” It sounded just right—perfunctory politeness with a hint of tedium. Now for the kill. She turned to Ian. “You said there was something we needed to discuss. I hope it won’t take long—I’d hate to miss dessert.”
“Aye, lass. Happen it’ll be chocolate cake,” Cam said.
She gave Cam a sharp, swift kick in the ankle. She knew what Cam was doing, but enough was enough. She was grateful, though. Whatever was coming next, she’d handle it. Her nerves were gone.
Alex focused as the solicitor took out a sheaf of official-looking papers and droned on about the Foundation’s proposal for resolving her dispute with Rosamund.
Finally Alex said, “So let me make sure I understand what you’re proposing. Rosamund and I would sign an agreement giving up our right to sue the Foundation or each other over anything to do with the prize. And in return, I would be recognized publicly for having discovered the letter.”
The Foundation solicitor said, “That’s accurate, Ms. Petrocelli.”
“I don’t have a problem with that. I’m not interested in wasting time in court.”
“But what about the award itself?” said Rosamund. “What does the agreement say about that?”
Ian answered, “The agreement specifies that the entire amount of the Prandall Prize, in accordance with the terms of Josiah Prandall’s bequest, will be awarded to you, Ms. Camberwell.”
“The entire amount?” The raw greed on Rosamund’s face made her look so ugly, Alex was shocked. “She gets nothing? I get every penny?”
“Yes, Ms. Camberwell,” said the Foundation solicitor. “Every penny.”
“What’s the catch? There must be a catch.”
“Please take all the time you need to look over the agreement,” said Ian calmly. “In fact, if you would like to take a few days for your solicitor to review it—”
“But then I wouldn’t get the award tonight. Isn’t that so?”
The solicitor cleared his throat. “Our main concern is to avoid any possible negative publicity for the Foundation, so we are prepared to do whatever is necessary to achieve an amicable settlement among the parties involved.”
Rosamund made a derisive noise. “In other words, I’ll have to wait. Let me see it.” She took the paper that the Foundation solicitor passed her and skimmed through it. “Very well. I’ll sign it.”
Her solicitor looked worried. “As your legal advisor, I’m afraid I cannot recommend—”
“Now, darling, I know you mean well”—Alex had heard that tone often enough to know the solicitor hadn’t a hope—“but really, see for yourself. It says right here, The entire amount of the Prandall Prize, in accordance with the terms set forth in attachment A—that’s a copy of the bequest, see?—is to be awarded to Rosamund Camberwell.”
“It does appear to be in order, but still—”
Rosamund snatched up a pen and signed the document. Then she handed it back to the Foundation solicitor and glared at Alex. Cam put an arm around her, murmuring in her ear.
“What do you reckon?”
Something about the whole thing felt a bit off, but Alex couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was. “It’s fine. I didn’t really expect to get any of the money. Don’t worry.” To the solicitor she said, “May I have the document, please?”
She paged through it quickly. “Ordinarily I wouldn’t sign anything without reading it carefully, but you know what? I’m not going to bother. I just want to get this over with and move on.” She looked at Cam, her eyes clear and calm. “We have better things to do, don’t we?”
“That we do.”
Alex signed the document and passed it back to the solicitor, then stood. “Is there anything else, gentlemen?”
Both Ian and the solicitor shook their heads. Alex turned to Cam and smiled. And she wasn’t just putting on a brave face. She really was happy. “Let’s see if there’s any cake left, sweetheart.”
Alex was delighted to discover that there was indeed plenty of cake, which turned out to be not only chocolate but several notches above the standard of the rest of the meal. So immersed was she in exploring the manifold pleasures of the chocolate experience as manifested in fudgy cake, creamy mousse, silky ganache, and warm espresso-tinged sauce, that she missed most of the speechifying. She had just savored the last decadent mouthful and chased it with a sip of reasonably good coffee when she realized silence had fallen over the room and everyone at the table was looking at her expectantly.
Cam whispered, “They’ve just asked you to say a few words about finding the letter. Best to get a move on.”
Silently cursing herself for not having expected and prepared for the invitation, and mentally aiming a few choice expressions a
t Ian for not having warned her, Alex made her way to the microphone to the accompaniment of polite applause. As she looked out over the sea of faces, her mind came to a complete standstill.
Playing for time, she cleared her throat and said, “Thank you.” She waited a beat, hoping to be struck either by inspiration or a falling object, anything to get herself off the hook, but the universe failed to oblige.
But then she caught sight of Cam smiling up at her, looking so proud of her and just so Cam. Solid and steady and everything she had never even bothered to imagine, let alone hope, could be hers. And just like that, the words were there.
“I feel unbelievably lucky, not only to be studying the work of a great poet, but to have been able to share with the world the truth about the love that inspired her most famous literary accomplishments. I never expected that to happen, just as I never expected to fall in love. But sometimes lightning does strike twice. I have no idea what the future will bring, but here, in this moment, I’m happy. And this moment is all that any of us ever have, isn’t it? In her eyes, forever waits for me.”
The uncertain applause that followed her back to her seat was undercut by baffled murmurs, but Alex barely noticed. When she reached Cam, she took her hand and drew her to her feet before kissing her tenderly.
Cam embraced her, whispering in her ear, “Oh, lass, I do love you so.”
Alex raised her head to meet Cam’s eyes. “I love you, Cam. So much.”
As they stood there gazing at each other, neither moving, Alex saw her own joy reflected in Cam’s face.
Eventually Nicola’s voice cut in. “Now that you two have given the press a chance to get plenty of snaps, what say we toddle on home?”