The Australian Heiress (8 page)

Camille was feeling increasingly out of her depth. She turned a few pages, then gave a small involuntary cry.

It might have been herself she was looking at. The same face, the same frame, the same slender limbs. Even the same smile. But it was Natalie. Her mother, dead for so long, had come to life in the pages of a photo album.

“You see the uncanny resemblance.” Nick Lombard studied Camille for a long moment—her face, her throat, her delicate arms, the slopes of her breasts veiled by the soft violet material. “There are many photographs of Natalie from now on. You’ll even find a few of me, my sister, Elizabeth, and our parents. The young man who always stands beside your mother is my uncle Hugo. He took Natalie to the villa in the spring of 1967. Everyone fell in love with her. Including my grandmother, who’s not accustomed to falling in love with anyone.”

Camille couldn’t answer, overcome by a whole range of emotions. Nick Lombard hadn’t lied to her. The photographs authenticated everything. Her father had revealed nothing of his life to her. In death as in life he was a stranger to her. She was terrified now she might have to reexamine all that she’d believed.

Her eyes fixed on a picture of a handsome young man, his arm around a laughing Natalie. They were leaning against a marble balustrade with a classical statue just to their left. “And this is Hugo?”

“Yes.” Nick’s voice had a brooding edge.

“He has no look of you.” Hugo was fair with light eyes.

“I’m all…Lombard,” he said.

“One might ask what the Lombards were in the past besides merchants and bankers.”

“Not murderers.” His voice was granite.

She was quite unable to continue. She’d shown appalling judgment in coming here. She rose abruptly from the sofa clenching the album to her heart. “I’m taking this home,” she said as though expecting an argument.

He stood up, too. “I had every intention of letting you do so.”

“I’ll ring Tommy. He’ll come for me.”

Nick blocked her fight. “There’s no need. I’ll drive you home.”

One look at his face told her he was going to have his way.

He was withdrawn in the car, his profile set in lines of deep reserve. It was so quiet Camille thought he would detect the shallowness of her breathing. What she’d learned tonight had put her wildly at war with her entrenched beliefs. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

Suddenly he spoke. “I can’t pretend I’m any more at ease with you than you are with me, Camille. But I am grateful to you for taking an interest in my daughter.”

“You might consider you may have failed her.” Camille pointed out cruelly.

His expression changed to one of icy rigidity. “You go too far.”

She was struggling for control. “Do I really? For
you
to say such a thing! I didn’t want to come tonight, but I’m only human. You dangled a lure in front of me and I couldn’t possibly have resisted. You’ve got some sort of complex plan and…and I’m just a pawn.”

“Of course you are,” he acknowledged in a hard ironic voice. “My
plan
is to alter your understanding. Unlike you, I’ve no wish to hide from the truth. But you’re just a child. Twenty-five—what’s that? You know
nothing
of life. And you’re wrong about my daughter. Many people have tried to help her, but she rejects everyone. I know she’s highly intelligent, but she can’t or won’t focus on anything. She doesn’t do well at school and she won’t mix. Her teachers are very patient, but Melissa is disruptive in class. As well, she has a tendency to bite, scratch and hurl herself on the floor, then refuse to get up.”

“And you’ve seen all this with your own eyes? Or is it hearsay? Do the kindhearted nannies and teachers tell you?”

Abruptly he pulled off to the side of the road and killed the engine. Her heart thudded, and he turned to her with an expression of despair.

“You must know from your experience of your father what
my
life is like. I have very little time.”

“You mean you can’t
make
any.” Camille was shocked by her desire to hurt him. But everything
about him cut so deeply into her. “My father never found a minute for me, either.”

He gave a brief contemptuous laugh. “I’m a saint compared to Harry Guilford.”

For long moments they faced each other in a terrible silence, then Camille wrenched open the door and jumped out. If she consented to what was happening, she’d never be the same again.

She began to run swiftly along the path beside the road, knowing only that she had to get away from Nick Lombard. Every look, every word from him, stripped her to the bone. By exposing her father’s unsavory past, he was exposing her to herself.

“Are you nuts?” He’d caught up to her easily and grabbed her arm, whirling her like a partner in a macabre dance. “Why’d you take off like that?”

“You…” Her agitation was so extreme her voice broke.
“You’re
the cause of all this.”

“Stop.” Strong hands grasped her shoulders, his fingers biting into the flesh. “I’m not your enemy. It was Harry Guilford I despised, not you.”

“Harry Guilford, Harry Guilford,” she chanted. “So you despised him so much, you had to break him. Destroy—”

He cut her off angrily. “Should I have let him go unchecked? Harry Guilford tore lives apart. Worse, he
enjoyed
it.”

“He gave me life!”

“Did
he?” Nick snorted. “How the hell can we be sure of that?”

Camille was so astounded she went limp. “Please! No more freakish mysteries.”

He thrust her off and began to walk back to the car. “Oh, let’s just leave it.”

“I
can’t
leave it.” Now it was she rushing after him. “What horrors are you hinting at now?”

He rounded on her so sharply she had to step back. “OK,
you’re
Guilford’s daughter. We can’t deny it was a sordid story, though, can we? Natalie was dazzled by Harry Guilford but not for long. She
needed
my uncle. He was always there for her.
Always.
We all knew it, though it nearly drove my family insane. My grandparents came to hate Natalie. She brought such strife. We lived every day with the constant threat of tragedy. Guilford was a dangerous and violent man. Tragedy did happen. My uncle knew the consequences. He’d made his choice. As Natalie did. In the end.”

Camille couldn’t answer. She was struck dumb.

“The child Natalie was carrying at the time of her death was my uncle’s. Perhaps Guilford found out.” He spoke as though the words were torn from him.

Camille flinched. “Damn you to hell!” Her lovely face was a study of grief and anger. “All these years of hating my father and grieving for your uncle has unhinged you.”

“Very possibly.” He looked through and beyond her. “Come, I’ll take you back to the car.”

Camille was adamant. “I’ll collect my handbag and the album. There’s a phone booth up ahead. I’ll call a cab.”

“Don’t be absurd.” His voice was cold with disdain. “I’m responsible for seeing you home safely.”

Camille fought for self-control. What did this man
want of her? To incite her beyond reason? Well, he was succeeding. She felt terrible aching rage.

“You’re not going to win, Nick Lombard. I absolutely loathe you.” She spoke with such passion she was left breathless.

He gave her a bitter smile. “Then it must be a matter of great shame that I excite you, as well.”

Guilty as charged, she thought with a faint sense of horror. And while she stood rigid, he pulled her into his arms as though she weighed nothing. He held her tightly, fiercely, crushing her breasts against him. For one split second, before his mouth bore down on hers, Camille was driven to concede their coming together was inevitable.

He took her breath, her will, her ability to stand on her own feet. The kiss when it came was the most passionate, the most brutally ecstatic of her life, and her equally passionate response would burden her forever with thoughts of dishonor.

As galvanically as it had begun, it was over. She had to cling to him as a drowning swimmer clings to a life raft.

“How dare you!” she panted.

“You can’t bring yourself to admit you wanted it.”

“You forced me.”

“I hardly think so. But next time perhaps you might try to be a little less…provocative.”

“And if I’m not?”

The brilliant black eyes became hooded, yet they spoke a thousand words.

Camille shivered in the warm air. And so it continues, she thought, into the next generation….

B
Y THE END OF DAY TWO
all the paintings had been sold, many of them far above the reserve, others for a relative bargain. If the seriously rich had their day, the upwardly mobile had their chance when the crystal, silver, sculpture, objets d’art and Oriental rugs went under the hammer.

“I’m in shock,” Linda confessed during the brief afternoon tea break. “But at least I got my beautiful basket.”

“I’m glad.” Camille smiled.

“Paid too much of course, but I love it.” Linda set down her cup. “This must be hard for you, Milly, the end of an era.”

“Most people would say good riddance. In fact, they’ve
been
saying it fairly loudly.” Camille’s tone was wry. “It may be the end of an era, but it’s not the end of the world. Frankly, I’m more concerned about
you
than all the chattels going out the door. Your eyes have a bruised look.”

“I am a bit weary,” Linda admitted, a glaze of tears in her huge eyes. “As my mother-in-law is fond of telling anyone within earshot, I’m a ‘frail little thing.’”

“Don’t let her get to you,” Camille counseled. This wasn’t the first time Linda had expressed the feelings
of inadequacy the daunting Madelaine Carghill seemed to engender.

“Oh, Milly, I just don’t have your self-confidence. For all Harry tried to crush you, he didn’t succeed. You know your worth.”

“It involved a lot of hard work,” Camille said with feeling. “I have my doubts and insecurities like everyone else—you know that better than anyone. Anyway, there isn’t a female alive who could come up to Madelaine Carghill’s standards for the wife of her only son.”

“What about Fiona Duncan?”

Camille looked at her friend aghast. “Nonsense, Lindy! You’re being a bit paranoid, aren’t you?”

“I guess. Silly me.”

Camille turned in her chair to stare at her friend. At the best of times Linda had an air of fragility about her, but now she looked like a young woman in crisis. “Stephen married
you,
not Fiona,” she said firmly. “I really thought you knew that.”

“I
do.
”

“Then it should take the terror out of Fiona Duncan.”

“Except that Stephen’s mother and sisters rate her as perfect.”

“Not on your life! They don’t rate anyone as perfect except themselves. My advice is, see a lot less of them. Especially now.”

“That’d be difficult.” Linda sighed. “I married into a really tightly knit family. I knew that at the beginning, but I never realized I was going to be in constant competition for my husband’s love. All three of them are jealous of me. Isn’t that a joke?”

“Nope, it’s bizarre. Anyway, it’s early days, Lindy. They have to learn how to let go.”

“Sometimes I think they’ll never accept me. I’m like some kind of alien in their midst. My father-inlaw is my ally, though. He was the only one to truly welcome me into the family.”

“The baby will change all that, I’m sure.” Camille felt angry on her friend’s account. It was difficult to argue with Linda’s stark assessment of the situation. Camille had seen the Carghill women in action. For all their surface togetherness, they never managed to fool anyone. Perhaps they didn’t intend to. Linda
was
the outsider. And it was true Stephen had been seriously involved with Fiona Duncan, his younger sister’s closest friend, until Linda had come on the scene.

Linda’s voice was quiet and sad. “Oh, I hope so, Milly. I’ve been having all sorts of weird dreams lately.”

“Like what?” Camille studied her friend’s small face.

“Oh, I can’t recall them exactly. But I wake up feeling…afraid. I can hardly put a name to it. I feel as though all the zest has gone out of my life. The bubble’s burst.”

“That’s dreadful, Lindy.” Camille put out a consoling hand. “Your spirits are down further than I thought. I think it’s the stress of early pregnancy, though. So many changes happening inside your body…”

“I don’t lead a truly happy life,” Linda said in a troubled voice.

“Does anybody, love? We have to settle for what happiness we can get You love Stephen. You have a
beautiful home, a lovely garden. Both of which
you
created. And you’re thrilled about the baby.”

Linda sighed in unexaggerated weariness. “It’s a paradoxical reaction, I know. I’ve always had difficulty handling my feelings.”

“Perhaps you didn’t give yourself enough time,” Camille suggested gently.

“I thought I’d lose Stephen if I didn’t agree to everything he said. A short engagement. Start a baby. Fiona is still hovering in the wings. We see her frequently. She’s connected. Marriages don’t last forever anymore. Look at Jill Shields,” she said, referring to a mutual friend. “Her marriage to David lasted exactly eighteen months. We saw them at the wedding. They seemed divinely happy.”

“Lindy, you’re just feeling low.” Camille was becoming more and more concerned.

“I never had much self-esteem. In fact, I still get confused about my place in the world. Dad and Mother dote on each other. Always have. They love me, but I don’t fool myself I was ever the center of their world.”

“So you think all this current ambivalence might have zomzinck to do with your childhood, Frau Carghill?”

But even Camille’s pseudo-Freudian accent didn’t jolly her friend out of her low spirits. “It was nowhere as grim as yours, but you have to admit we were two very lonely little girls. I don’t know what I would have done without you, Milly. You were always my rock, always there for me. A loving friend.”

Camille reached out and gave Linda a hug. “You’re feeling especially vulnerable right now. Blame it on a
massive surge of hormones. Why don’t you bring forward your appointment with Dr. Bourke? Explain to him how you feel. He may be able to give you something.”

“The fewer drugs you take during pregnancy the better. Besides, I can’t open my heart to Dr. Bourke as I can with you. He’s much too busy, in any case.”

“Damn, he’s not that busy,” Camille protested. “You’re his patient. Speak to him. Speak to Stephen.”

“I can pretty well gauge Stephen’s reactions on a daily basis,” Linda said in an odd tone. “Once I used to think everything would be right if Stephen was beside me. It hasn’t quite worked out that way. He’s not like the rest of his family—he’s kind and supportive, he cherishes me—but underneath I can detect the same
impatience.
I’m making a big deal of what should be a piece of cake. What came so easily for the women of his family, I have to struggle with.”

“Does that make you less of a woman? You’re too hard on yourself, Lindy.”

“I’ve got to get through this.” Linda gritted her teeth. “I want this baby. I love her. I talk to her all the time. My little girl. I know it’s a girl. I don’t need to find out. Stephen is disappointed in me. It’s all this sickness. It must be very offputting for a man.”

“Lindy, you’re not being fair to Stephen,” Camille said in a firm voice. “It’s your mother-in-law who spends so much time trying to make you think you’re some kind of failure. It’s
her
problem. Not Stephen’s. Not yours.”

“I do everything expected of me.”

“Of course you do. I think you should start considering falling in love with yourself. Why don’t you tell
Mrs. Carghill how you feel? Even
she
wouldn’t risk losing her own grandchild.”

“I couldn’t take the chance,” Linda said in a defeated tone. “Too stressful for me. Besides, she’d act totally disbelieving, as though the very last thing she would ever want is to upset me.”

“Well, she can stop calling you a frail little thing for a start.”

Linda shook her head. “They’d have accepted Fiona, you know. She’s one of them. I’m sure they think it’s awful I’m so short. They’re all so tall.” Linda gave a humorless laugh.

“I repeat,” Camille said, “see a whole lot less of them.”

“I can’t, Milly. Stephen’s relying on me to work things out.”

“What’s the big deal with Madelaine Carghill, anyway? You’ve got a tongue when you want. When she starts the subtle demeaning, standing up for yourself. And keep in mind she’s not terribly well liked, whereas you are. You can even pity her a little. She doesn’t know when to let go. You’re numero uno in Stephen’s life. And if your intuition is right, he’ll have another little lady to love.”

“Sarah Camille Carghill.” Linda turned to Camille with a tremulous sigh. “Of course you’re godmother.”

“I should jolly well hope so.” Camille stood up and drew Linda to her feet. “Now I’m going to get Tommy to drive you home. I’ll follow in your car.”

“Heavens, you don’t need to do that!” Linda looked flustered but relieved.

“It’s not your decision, my girl. And when you get home, put your feet up and relax. I can’t bear to see
you with that wounded look. Chat to Sarah. Focus on all the good things in your life. Being pregnant can be beautiful, as well as terrifying. Accept that.”

“I love you, Milly,” Linda said quietly, squeezing Camille’s hand.

A
T TWO IN THE MORNING
the phone shrilled, bringing Camille out of a deep troubled sleep.

“Lord!” she groaned, trying to calm her hammering heart. She made a grab for the phone, in her disoriented state almost knocking it to the floor. “Hello?”

“Camille?”

Her head cleared in an instant. She sat up straight, feeling the first wave of apprehension. “Stephen, what’s wrong?”

The normally cool unflappable Stephen sounded anything but. “It’s Lindy. She’s cramping. She’s frightened. So am I. She thinks she might lose the baby.”

His answer galvanized Camille. She kicked furiously at the sheet that refused to release her. “Call the ambulance.”

“I already have. She wants
you.”

“Tell her I’m on my way.” Camille was free at last and on her feet

“Bless you, Milly,” Stephen said. “I feel so damned inadequate. I don’t have a clue what to do.”

“Stay calm. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

S
O BEGAN A LONG
terrible night. In the end Linda lost her baby.

Stephen and Camille sat huddled in the waiting
room almost incapable of speech. At some point Stephen’s mother and father arrived—Linda’s parents were in Europe, traveling—so the four of them received the sad news from a tired and strained Dr. Bourke.

“Lord, this is a sad business! I’m so sorry.” He put his arm around Stephen’s shoulder. “But Linda is young and healthy. There’ll be other children. Take comfort in that.”

“How can I find comfort in that?” Stephen said passionately when the doctor had gone. “We’ve just lost our first child. Nothing can change that. Lindy will be devastated. She wanted this baby so much.”

His mother reached over and touched his cheek. “How I hate to see you suffer, darling. You must look on this miscarriage as nature just doing its job. Something was obviously wrong.”

“Please, Mom, I don’t want to hear that now,” Stephen moaned.

“He’s right, Madelaine,” Peter Carghill murmured in distress. “I thought little Linda was looking strained. Too many demands placed on her, I expect.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Madelaine gave an astonished frown.
“No
demands were made on Linda that she didn’t make herself. I know it’s not the time for pointing out these things, but from the onset of the pregnancy she really didn’t look after herself.”

It was too much for Camille. “That’s simply not true, Mrs. Carghill. Linda was doing everything
right.”

“My dear—” Madelaine Carghill gave Camille an arctic smile “—it was impossible for you to follow Linda’s every move. I was appalled at how much gardening
she was doing. I once caught her lifting a heavy terra-cotta pot. I told her at the time she shouldn’t do things like that. But she’s very willful, for all her sweet nature. I often think it’s her way of asserting herself. She’s driven to ignore everything I say on principle.”

It was really amazing the way the woman could turn the tables, Camille thought, unwilling to proceed further.

“There’s no use talking about any of this now,” Stephen said, head in hands. “I suppose she did do a lot of work in the garden.”

“Dr. Bourke approved of it, Stephen,” Camille said. “I find it very hard to believe Linda lifted any heavy pot.”

“My dear, are you calling me a liar?” Color flooded Madelaine Carghill’s handsome face. Her pale gray eyes looked like chips of ice.

“On this particular occasion I believe you were mistaken,” Camille said, keeping her voice even. “If Linda heard you say that, she’d be desperately hurt.”

“You’d be the
only
person to tell her,” Madelaine Carghill retorted. She rose to her feet. “I really can’t listen to any more of this. You exceed your place, Camille.”

Camille stared back unwaveringly. “Perhaps I do. For Linda. She’s my friend.”

“Then you might seek to protect her from herself.” Madelaine Carghill delivered the warning sharply, clearly outraged to have been challenged. “I’ve done everything in my power to help her, but she continues to shut me out.” She turned to her husband. “I don’t
think there’s anything more we can do here. Peter, I want to go home.”

Surprisingly Peter Carghill shook his narrow patrician head. “I’d like to see Lindy for a moment, if I could.”

“They won’t allow you,” his wife answered, abandoning herself to outright anger. “Only Stephen will be allowed to see her. Not family. Not
close
friends.” This with a glare in Camille’s direction. Then she marched off, husband in tow.

“Oh, hell, Milly, did you have to say that?” Stephen followed his parents’ departure with tortured eyes.

“I had to say
something,
Stephen. You must be aware your mother gives Lindy a bad time.”

“What utter rubbish!” Stephen exploded. “It’s more a matter of personalities. It’s not
intentional.
God, no. Mom has such certainty, so of course, she would threaten someone like Lindy. Lindy has all kinds of virtues, but even you wouldn’t call her a shining example of self-confidence. I put it down to her rotten childhood. She’s never had any sense of truly belonging. Not the way I do. I’ve had a loving family around me all my life. Lindy once told me she felt there were only two people in the world who cared about her. You and me.”