Eliza tossed her blond head. “Winnie attends me charmingly and he is rich enough. Because of who my father is, I know he’ll treat me well. I will give him an heir and then, since he’s a gentleman, he will leave me alone and go elsewhere with his male lust. I will have a fine life. His father, I have heard, isn’t well, so perhaps I will be Viscountess Longham within the year. And there will be no mother I will have to deal with. Winnie told me she thoughtfully died a number of years ago. Naturally he didn’t phrase it exactly like that. Yes, I will be the mistress with no one to gainsay me.”
It sounded bloodless and actually perfect for her sister. Poor Winstead. To Cam it didn’t sound perfect at all. But what else was there? Not only for ladies but also forgentlemen? Both had assigned roles in life and they were to obey the rules set down to fulfill their roles. But what if you didn’t want the role? What if—Surely there was something else, something to strive for—she thought of Alex Ivanov. He was smart; he was actually inventing better ways for trains to run. He was going to earn his own way, not inherit a title and wealth. He was actually helping society to move forward. He was going to make his mark, a big mark.
And what was she doing? Nothing at all.
She looked at her sister and thought of what she’d said about the marriage bed. It sounded like Eliza didn’t want to be intimate with her future husband, that it was simply a chore to be got through, a duty to perform, nothing more, or something else entirely—like Averil using the power of her bosom with her father to get what she wanted, namely, for Cam to be exiled to Bath. Did Averil enjoy the fleshly things with her father? Cam shuddered. She couldn’t think about that, it was too uncomfortable, thinking of her father in bed with Averil and—no, no, don’t think about that, but since this was a very murky subject, she wasn’t sure at all.
Did Averil agree with Eliza?
Her sister turned to leave, her pale blue skirts swishing ever so gracefully as she moved. She said over her shoulder at the open door, “I remember Mother. She hadn’t wanted to be what she was—an heiress married to a rich man, but she had no choice. She was nineteen, beautiful, her family leaders in society. She could have any gentleman and evidently she culled Father out of the crowd of suitors. I’ve heard the servants say Father worshipped her, that he was distraught when she died.”
Cam said, “Is that true?”
Eliza shrugged. “Who knows? Actually, I can’t imagine any gentleman caring that much for a wife. After all, they’re not forced to be in mourning for an entire year like we are,particularly if they are still in need of an heir. They can remarry as soon as they like and society nods approval and life continues.
“I remember Mother said to me when I was just a little girl and didn’t understand, that she didn’t fit into the mold, that she didn’t enjoy being with any of her peers, poseurs the lot of them, but she’d learned to hide herself, to smile, to say nothing of any importance at all, in short to say only what was pleasant and expected. Then she hugged me, whispered she wanted me to spread my wings, whatever that meant. Even at five years old, I realized Mother was an oddity, just like you. Listening to you, it’s like Mother is speaking, all nonsense and naive dreams. I once heard her maid say Mother was like a little swan in an eagle’s nest.”
A little swan in an eagle’s nest. Was she really like her mother? Cam felt her heart swell. “Thank you for telling me, Eliza.”
Eliza shrugged again. “Who cares, really? She’s been gone a very long time. Face it, Camilla, you will have to choose between Teddy and Pilcher. There are no wings to spread, you’ll learn just as she did there is only as good a marriage as a lady can make and wrest as much pleasure as possible out of life.
“Now I’m going for a ride in the park with Winnie. I might even let him kiss me. I think you’ve destroyed your reputation in London what with attacking poor Teddy, so Bath it will be. Accept Pilcher, he’s not a bad bargain. He’s hunting mad and will leave you alone after you have a son.” She gave her one long look. “Don’t forget, at my wedding, you will keep your mouth shut and smile, nothing more. You will speak only when there is a civil inquiry. And, Camilla, if you say anything untoward, I will make your life a misery.” The last look her sister gave her promised retribution.
Eliza whisked out of Cam’s bedchamber. Cam heard thetap, tap, tapof her slippers on the polished-oak floorcorridor. She raced after her. “Eliza, wait! How do you remember all of this? You were just a little girl. Tell me more of what you remember. What else did Mother tell you?”
But Eliza didn’t turn, didn’t answer. Cam heard her laughter.
She turned back into her bedchamber, sat again on the window seat. If it came down to Pilcher or Teddy, she’d escape to the Hebrides and live in a Viking hut.
CHAPTER 13
Cilly, shortened from Cillette by seven-year-old Cam, had been Cam’s maid and companion since she’d been five years old. She said as she walked into Cam’s room holding a basket of mending, “Word downstairs is you won’t have to apologize to that overenthusiastic nitwit Teddy Jewel tonight because he isn’t coming to dinner and isn’t that a grand relief? Evidently he’s coming on Friday night, so you have a reprieve. Evidently there are other guests tonight, friends of your father, according to Osbourne, there are no wives involved.”
No Teddy Jewel. It was a huge relief. Cam said, “You always know everything before I do.”
“You know as well as I do servants know everything, sometimes even before it happens.”
Cam nodded. She’d learned when she was five years old there were no secrets in the household.
“Oh yes, I even heard that pinch-mouthed Elvira talking about it. Evidently your sister’s fiancé will be here as well.”
She sank into a chair, folded her hands beneath her chin. Cilly sat beside her, pulled out a lovely linen chemise and began mending a small tear, humming to herself.
She paused, looked up and said, “I remember when you were a little girl, you were as skinny as a townhouse porch railing. Ah, but I saw promise of beauty in you even then, Cam. You have your mother’s glorious chestnut hair, your father’s hazel eyes, lovely eyes, not as beautiful as mine”—this said on a grin—“but still very nice.”
“Thank you, Cilly.” It was true. Cilly’s eyes were, in Cam’s opinion, a gift from God above since her father and mother, now deceased, had mud-brown eyes so Cilly had told her. Cilly was now nearly thirty. She’d turned down at least three proposals of marriage Cam knew about. When she’d asked her why, Cilly had said calmly, “I want to marry a man who will love me for myself and not my glorious eyes.” And, of course, she’d laughed.
Cilly looked down at the watch pinned to the belt on her waist, smoothed the mended chemise, and said, “It is time for you to get ready for dinner. I’ll fix your hair in that special way that makes you look like a queen. First, let’s give it a good wash.”
After Cilly brushed Cam’s hair dry she began to plait thick hanks to twist into a crown on top of her head. Then came the threading of a dark blue ribbon through the plaits. Still, she wasn’t done. “Sit still.” She carefully pulled down several little curls to lie against her cheek and neck. She then stood back to admire her handiwork. “I must say I’ve outdone myself. You look perfectly grand, Cam. Now, you’re going to wear the matching blue evening gown.”
It was a beautiful gown, a fitted speared waist, her shoulders quite bare, and the satin fell in smooth folds to her feet. It was a marvel and fit her perfectly. Cam stood in front of the Cheval mirror, Cilly behind her. She grinned at herself. “Well, I’m at least two inches taller.” She kissed Cilly’s cheek. “Thank you. If Teddy isn’t coming tonight and I won’t have to apologize to that idiot with his damp hands, why am Idressed fit for the queen? This gown is new, from Madame Giselle. All I can ever think about when speaking with her is a tumbril on its way with me to the guillotine. So do you know who is coming?”
“Mr. Slipper told Mrs. Willig who told Mr. Osbourne and Cook that his lordship had invited Mr. Sherbrooke and his ward Mr. Ivanov. Little Alice overheard that twitchy-nosed Elvira commiserating with her mistress, both of them bemoaning the wasted evening since it would be all that financial drivel. Evidently her ladyship was hissing like a snake she was so mad it wasn’t Teddy Jewel who was coming because it meant you wouldn’t be going to Bath tomorrow. But his lordship overrode her, which, I must say, is a surprise. She was yelling it was all your fault, somehow you made this happen.” Cilly gave her a big grin. “His lordship told me you were to wear the new gown.”
Cilly paused, gently tugged on another curl, became serious. “I believe her ladyship wants you gone because she’s jealous of your relationship with your father. Perhaps too she’s afraid of you.”
Cam gaped at her. “Afraid? Of me? That makes no sense, Cilly. She holds the power in the household, she can do whatever she wants. Only my father can overrule her. Why would she care if I got along well with my father?”
