One evening after dinner, when the others had straggled off to bed, Maxim lingered longer than usual at the bar on the main deck. Once the crew also retired, and they were finally alone, he said in a low voice, ‘I want to talk to you about something, Camilla.’
‘Yes, of course, what is it? You sound serious, look troubled, Maxim.’
‘No, no, I’m not troubled. But I am serious.’ He held her gaze steadily for the longest time, before saying, ‘Would you consider marrying me?’
Camilla was thunderstruck. This was the last thing she had expected and she could only sit and gape at him stupidly.
He chuckled. ‘You do look startled, my pet. Speechless, actually. But before you say yea or nay, let me explain that there would have to be a few ground rules if we married. May I tell you what they are?’
Camilla nodded. She did not care what his ground rules were; she would agree to anything so long as they married. She was so much in love with him she was besotted, had been about to accept him on any terms, to become his mistress, if necessary, rather than lose him.
‘If you marry me, I wouldn’t want you to give up your career,’ he said. ‘It’s always been a vital part of your life, Cam, and it’s very necessary to me that you continue to act. In films, on the stage. Also, I’d like you to do David’s film in January.’
‘What you’re saying is that you’d prefer me to be busy, whilst you’re running your empire.’
‘I am. But it’s also for you, darling. You’re a great actress, you’re at the height of your talent, your career is flourishing. You’re a big name, a very big name. I wouldn’t want you to give it up, sacrifice what you’ve worked for, striven for, all these years—to marry me. I want you to have that success, a sense of fulfilment.’
‘I have to work, Maxim, just as you have to… they’d take me away in a straitjacket if I didn’t. Anyway, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I didn’t act,’ she explained.
‘I know what you mean. But to continue, Cam, I need plenty of space. In fact, I must have it in order to do my work properly. I don’t want you clinging to me, making me the core of your existence. I have to travel a great deal, and I hope you understand this. Of course, you can come with me on the extended trips. I’d love it, love to have you with me. But not on the short, quick trips. They’re too hectic, and I’m always locked up in meetings. I don’t want distractions. Or to be deflected from what I have to do—because I’m worrying about my wife. I’ve always had great direction, concentration. I can’t change. Business is a huge and vital part of my life.’
‘I know that.’
‘Also, there are certain periods when I have to see Anastasia and our children, be with her, Alix and Michael. Birthdays, some holidays. You wouldn’t be upset, would you?’
‘Of course not. I would think it odd if you didn’t see them, under the circumstances. And what about Alix and Michael? How are they going to take it, if you marry me? Second wives aren’t always popular.’
‘There’ll be no problem. They’re both mature. Alix is twenty now, Michael nineteen, remember. They’re grown up.’
She nodded. ‘All right, keep going. What are the rest of your ground rules?’
‘There are no more… that’s the lot.’
Camilla was silent, looked thoughtful.
‘What about you? Perhaps you have some ground rules?’ A dark brow lifted quizzically.
‘No, I don’t, Maxim.’
‘Will you marry me?’
‘Of course I’ll marry you.’ She did not say that this was the only thing she had ever really wanted, but she certainly thought it.
His face lit up, and he rose, went and sat next to her on the sofa, put his arms around her. ‘I’m not cut out to be a bachelor, you know. I’m far too monogamous by nature,’ he said, touching her cheek lightly. ‘And I’ll always be good to you, Camilla.’
‘I know you will,’ she answered, her face full of radiance.
He bent forward, kissed her deeply, whispered against her hair, ‘Shall I break open a bottle of champagne to celebrate our forthcoming nuptials? Or shall we do that in bed?’
She did not speak. Extracting herself from his embrace, she rose, held out her hand to him, gave him a small knowing smile.
Maxim took it, stood up. Together they walked hand-in-hand to her stateroom.
He could hardly wait to get her undressed and into bed, and he took her very quickly, urgently, without much preamble. His passion for her raged through him, exploded almost immediately he took possession of her, and for the first time, in all the weeks of their lovemaking, he cried out her name as he climaxed and flowed into her.
Much later that night, after he had made love to her again, slowly and more leisurely, and given her satisfaction, he sat up in bed, propped himself on one elbow, looked down into her face. ‘Let’s not wait, Cam. Let’s get married immediately.’
‘Whenever you want,’ she said, reaching up, brushing his hair back. Her face was brimming with love for him.
‘We’ll do it tomorrow,’ he announced authoritatively with a huge smile. ‘Or the day after. We’ll be arriving in Tangier in a few hours. The British Consul will marry us. I’ll make all the arrangements first thing. Is that all right with you?’
‘Everything’s always all right with me when I’m with you, Maxim.’
***
It was a golden November day, an Indian summer day.
The sun shone brightly in a perfect sky that was vividly blue, blameless, without cloud. Camilla paused on the steps of Maxim’s Mayfair house, where she now lived with him since their marriage, sniffing the air, breathing deeply, thinking what a glorious day it truly was. An ideal day to go to the country.
As she stepped forward, Maxim’s chauffeur, Humphrey, got out of the Jaguar and came around to open the door for her. ‘Good morning, Mrs West,’ he said, with a polite smile as he helped her in.
‘Good morning, Humphrey. Isn’t it a lovely day? Hardly like winter at all.’
‘It’s beautiful, Madame.’ Humphrey closed the car door, returned to the driver’s seat. ‘Are we going down to East Hendred again, Mrs West?’ he asked, glancing over his shoulder. ‘Mr West told me this morning that I’d be driving you to the country today.’
‘Yes, we are,’ Camilla said, settling back against the seat. ‘And we’ve plenty of time. I have an appointment at the new house with the interior designers, but they’re not expecting me before noon.’
‘Very good, Mrs West,’ he said, starting the engine, pulling away from the kerb.
Camilla’s thoughts drifted aimlessly on the drive to East Hendred, the little village in Oxfordshire where she had recently bought a lovely old Queen Anne manor house. She and Maxim had found it at the beginning of September, before they had flown off to New York together on one of his business trips. They had both liked it the moment they had seen it, had decided to buy it on the spot. When she had insisted on paying for it, Maxim had protested, shaken his head, been highly amused at her insistence about this. But she won, and after she had bought the house she had given it to him as a wedding present. He had been deeply touched by this gesture, had accepted her gift with grace.
Even though the manor had stood empty for two years, because the previous owner now lived in Barbados, Lacey Court was in relatively good condition. The interior designers she had hired were already hard at work, creating the comfortable, unpretentious country look she and Maxim preferred. It was going to be a wonderful weekend retreat for them both, especially for Maxim. The way he worked, he needed a place to unwind occasionally in peaceful surroundings.
She leaned her head against the seat, closed her eyes, suddenly thinking of her husband, the man she had loved since she had been a girl, whom she had always believed to be beyond her reach. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she would ever be married to him. Or be so incredibly happy with him. He was the most glorious man. Deep down inside, she knew he did not love her in the same way she loved him,
but this did not matter to her any more. Maxim was passionate in bed, caring and affectionate at all times, generous to a fault. Since their marriage in August, he had showered her with beautiful gifts—exquisite jewels, fine paintings, valuable antiques and silver for the new house.
If there were odd moments when she longed to hear him say, ‘I love you,’ these had become few and far between. She constantly remembered Stubby’s words, when she had mentioned love to him on the yacht. Don’t quibble, he had said. Be glad you’ve got what you have. You and Maxim have more than most couples. It was true, they did. Besides, Maxim had started to express his feelings for her lately, murmuring things like, ‘I adore you,’ or ‘you’re my special lady,’ and when he did so his voice was loving, his dark eyes full of warmth.
Her thoughts shifted to their wedding at the British Consulate in Tangier. If the others were surprised that Maxim had not asked the captain of his yacht to marry them, she was not. He had built Beautiful Dreamer for Anastasia. To marry her on it would have been inappropriate in his eyes. He was sensitive in so many different ways. And she knew that Anastasia still owned a large part of Maximilian West, and of his heart. The real reason for the location of the wedding had obviously struck Stubby at one moment, for he had looked at her swiftly, and smiled, his eyes conveying his support of her, his understanding. She hadn’t minded where they married.
Stubby had also finally tied the knot at long last, his playboy days at an end. The wedding had been in September, after she and Maxim had returned from the States. He had taken the lovely Marcia Bell to be his bride, and the wedding had been at Caxton Hall. Maxim had been best man,—she had been matron of honour; afterwards Maxim and she had given the wedding breakfast at the Mayfair house.
Teddy and Mark Lewis had been present at Stubby’s wedding, and much to her delight they liked her, seemed to be extremely happy that she had married Maxim. Furthermore, so were his children, much to her gratification. Neither Alix nor Michael had apparently been upset to learn of their father’s marriage to her, quite the contrary. And she was starting to develop a lovely relationship with Alix, who was such a beautiful, intelligent young woman.
I’m so lucky, Camilla thought, I’m the luckiest woman in the world. I really do have everything I’ve ever wanted. Maximilian West. My wonderful career. Even children now, since his appear to have genuinely taken to me. As an only child, whose parents were dead, and childless herself, she felt as if she had a proper family at last.
A radiant smile slipped onto her face without her realising it, and happiness and contentment shone in her expressive green eyes.
Opening her handbag, Camilla took out her small diary, checked her appointments for the rest of the week. She was looking forward to their dinner with David Maines this evening. He had arrived in London yesterday, bringing with him the shooting script of the new film. She had agreed to star in it, and she was anxious now to read the final version.
***
A little over an hour after Humphrey had driven away from Chesterfield Hill in Mayfair, he was turning into the winding driveway which led up to Lacey Court.
The Queen Anne manor stood in a small dell, surrounded by a copse of trees which grew on a slight rise above it, and it had a lovely timeless quality. This morning its many windows winked in the sunlight, and its ancient stones were mellow and gentle against the dark winter landscape, the backdrop of leafless trees.
Humphrey parked opposite the front door, newly painted a shiny pristine white, and instantly the two young interior designers came rushing out onto the broad front steps.
Never one to stand on ceremony, Camilla opened the door, got out of the Jaguar before Humphrey had a chance to assist her, and hurried forward to meet them.
Alison Dixon and Tony Campbell, the designers she had always used in the past, were full of smiles as they greeted her, escorted her into the house.
‘Everything’s going marvellously well,’ Tony told her, stepping back to let her walk around the large entrance hall. ‘And the fabrics you selected are going to look fabulous. It’s easier to tell how they’re going to blend in now that the walls are painted in all the rooms. The house is really coming together, Camilla, and has a lovely cohesion to it.’
‘I can’t wait to see everything,’ Camilla responded, smiling at the talented young team, glancing around the hall, liking the deep-salmon shade they had used for the walls, the botanical prints in dark wood frames, the gilt Georgian mirror, and antique crystal and bronze dore chandelier.
‘You’re going to get a lovely surprise when you see the rest of the house,’ Alison told her. ‘We’ve made tremendous strides this past week.’
Steering her into the library, Alison continued, ‘Most of the rooms have been painted, as Tony told you, the wood floors cleaned and refinished—oh, and the beds came from Harrods yesterday. And this room, as you can see, is practically finished. The only things missing are the chesterfield sofa, the books and accessories.’
Camilla stood in the centre of the library, her eyes sweeping around appraisingly, missing nothing. She kept nodding her head approvingly. The panelled walls of the lovely old room had been cleaned and restored, as had the bookshelves; a Georgian desk and chair, comfortable armchairs, a Savonnerie rug, and brass lamps with cream-silk shades were all in place. There was even one of her favourite horse paintings hanging over the fireplace.
‘Congratulations!’ Camilla exclaimed delightedly, looking from one to the other. ‘As you know, this room is for Maxim, and I’m so glad you did it first. At least I know he has somewhere to work, even if other parts of the house have to be completed after we’ve moved in.’
They took her on a general tour, and then headed back downstairs to the kitchen. Tony said, ‘We think we can have the house ready by the middle of December, Camilla, since we’re making such good progress.’ He held open the kitchen door for her, and as she went in, he added, ‘Oh and by the way, rather than go to one of the pubs in the area for lunch, we brought a picnic with us. We thought it would be much nicer, also we can show you some of the fabrics we selected for the antique wicker furniture, and the tiles for the guest powder room whilst we eat.’
‘What a good idea,’ Camilla said. ‘But I’d better pop outside, tell Humphrey to go and find a pub and have a snack. He can come back for me in a couple of hours, since we’ve more things to go over. Please excuse me.’
‘Will you have a glass of wine, Camilla?’ Alison asked, taking the bottle out of the wicker picnic hamper.
‘Why not? Thank you,’ Camilla said and hurried out.
After dispatching the chauffeur for lunch, Camilla paused for a moment outside, glancing around, thinking that she must engage a gardener as soon as possible. Even though it was late November, when nothing could be planted, the garden was somewhat overgrown, a wilderness that needed sprucing up before the spring. I’ll put daffodils over there, she thought, have them planted at random under those trees. And crocuses and snowdrops. And I’ll have lilac bushes put in. Maxim loves lilacs.
It would be wonderful if we could spend the Christmas holidays here, Camilla thought, going back inside. Maxim had told her Alix would be with them, while Michael went to Jamaica with Anastasia. She walked along the corridor to the kitchen, paused when she came to the door of the basement, thinking suddenly of Maxim’s main Christmas present. She had decided to have part of the basement turned into a fully equipped wine cellar for him, was intending to stock it with the very best wines. Stubby had been helping her to select Maxim’s favourites, as well as the champagnes he preferred, which he liked to have as an aperitif rather than hard liquor. Although he was not a big drinker himself, he did insist on serving his guests only the very best vintages. Stubby had already been to one wine auction for her, and they were making excellent progress. The wine racks had been ordered and were due any day.
Deciding to take another look at the basement whilst Tony and Alison were setting up the picnic lunch in the kitchen, Camilla opened the
basement door. She switched on the light, started down the long wooden staircase which was shallow and very steeply pitched.
She had only descended a few steps when the heel of one of her shoes caught in a crack on the wooden step. Not realising what had happened she tried to continue down the steps, was jerked backwards as the shoe heel remained stuck in the step. She lost her balance, and as she twisted then catapulted forward she let out a terrified scream, grabbed wildly for the banister which ran down the side wall. It was rotten, came away from the bricks in her hand. She screamed again as she went hurtling on down the steep staircase and landed with a heavy thud on the concrete floor at the bottom. She lay absolutely still.
Alison and Tony heard her scream, came racing out of the kitchen. They flew down the corridor, immediately saw the door to the basement open and went to it. Tony stood on the top step looking down, and let out a cry of horror. ‘Oh my God! Camilla’s fallen down the steps!’ he exclaimed, going cold all over. He went down the staircase gingerly, his heart in his mouth.
He found her shoe, the tip of the heel still caught in the crack on the step, and he knew at once how the accident had occurred.
Alison, who was shaking uncontrollably, was chalk-white. She followed her partner down the stairs, so frightened and upset she could barely walk. When she arrived at the bottom of the steep staircase, which she now realised was dangerous, Tony was kneeling next to Camilla.
Her body lay awkwardly, and looked oddly askew on the basement floor. Her beautiful face was white, her eyes closed. Blood seeped out from underneath her golden hair.
‘She’s badly hurt,’ Alison whispered, her voice barely audible. She crouched down to Tony, trying to control her shaking limbs.
Tony looked ghastly. ‘I don’t think we ought to move her,’ he said unsteadily. ‘We might injure her even more. I’ll stay here with Camilla. You go and phone for an ambulance.’