The Australian Heiress (13 page)

“Someone will notice sooner or later,” Camille said. “What happens when your prospective buyer hangs it on
his
wall?”

“I didn’t say I acquired it in Australia, darling. I’m not so secretive I can’t tell you. It was France.”

“Harry would have been on to it like a shot.”

“Your father was never an art lover, darling. You know that”

“I’m not even a hundred percent sure he
was
my father,” Camille blurted. It was quite unintentional. The impetus came from deep inside her.

Claude turned to her in astonishment. “Dearest girl, what are you saying?”

“Nonsense, probably, but there’s a lot you haven’t told me, Claude. A lot you’ve been holding back.”

He flinched. “Don’t be so hard on me. I knew your father too well. Look, let me make a cup of tea,” he suggested, obviously desperate for breathing space.

“You knew my mother
before
her marriage, didn’t you?” Camille followed Claude into the country-style kitchen, which was equipped for a professional and also had a dresser spilling over with a collection of blue-and-white nineteenth-century china.

“I did.” Claude put on the kettle. “Your mother
was an orphan, as you know. I met her. through your great-grandmother, who reared Natalie after her parents were killed. Mrs. Cooper was on the board of the National Art Gallery for some years before she died. She introduced me to Natalie. She was enormously fond of her. Natalie was as sweet as she was beautiful. She made you feel joy just being in her presence.”

“Then you must have met Hugo Vandenberg, as well.”

Claude nodded, his expression somber. “Oddly enough I met him the same night I met your father. Hugo was Natalie’s escort at some opera do. I could see at once he was deeply in love with her. I would have thought she was in love with him, too. But for your father, they would have been married.”

“You say that with a world of regret.”

“I do.” Claude’s eyes were sad. “All three of them are dead. A tragic triangle if ever there was one. I remember the occasion exactly. It was as though I was watching a play unfolding. Vandenberg, gentleman to a fault, pitted against that handsome rogue, Harry, blue eyes on fire, devouring poor doomed Natalie. Harry always had that element of danger, of risk, about him. It reached out and captured her, chained her, really. I remember his smiling so malevolently at Hugo—the smile of a tiger. Natalie was the doe. There was this insatiable hunger about him, a tremendous sexual charge.”

Claude paused, then went on, “I have to tell you I disliked Harry intensely. Always did. My sympathies were all with Vandenberg, my fears for Natalie. It was obvious from that first meeting she was going to be in the middle of them. With anyone else but Harry, Vandenberg
might have let go. But Harry was a brutal devil. He smothered Natalie with his passion. He allowed her no friends. She was his exclusively. Just the two of them. He didn’t even want a child to come between them.”

“Isn’t
that
deeply significant He didn’t love
me.
Could it be possible I’m not his?”

Claude looked stunned. “Hush, child, hush!” He rattled the cups and saucers he was setting on the table. “The thought has never crossed my mind.”

“Not ever, Claude? You knew the situation.”

“So did your mother,” Claude answered without a moment’s hesitation. “She would never have dared to be unfaithful to Harry. Had he lived in an earlier age, he’d have simply run a rival through with his sword. As it was, he had plenty to do the job for him. If your mother had been unfaithful to him, he’d have killed her.”

It was the last thing Camille wanted confirmed. “Maybe he
did
kill her!” she cried. “She might
not
have been swept off
Sea Eagle.
She could have been thrown.”

Claude looked aghast. “Camille, she was his
life.
He nearly lost his reason after the accident. There was an inquest. I attended it. We all realized Harry was beside himself with grief. He’d lost the only person who meant anything to him.”

“Maybe it was
guilt,”
Camille shot back. “I always thought he was possessed by demons.”

There was a shift in Claude’s expression as he cast his mind back. “Your father had plenty of enemies even then. Plenty of people who hated him, wanted him brought down. But no one, I repeat
no one,
seriously
thought he had anything to do with his wife’s death. Anyone who ever met them was conscious of his obsessive love for her.”

“What if she rejected him, Claude?” Camille’s legs gave out and she sat down abruptly at the table.

“Darling girl, this is horrible what you’re saying.”

“I don’t know
what
to believe anymore.”

“They’re both dead now.”

“That’s no answer. No answer at all. The past won’t go away. It dogs us to the grave. Did you have
no
idea Hugo was Nick Lombard’s uncle?”

Claude, too, sat down at the table and out of sheer habit began adjusting the centerpiece of golden lemons. “Nick Lombard was just a boy. We’re talking twenty years ago.”

“So when
did
you find out?”

Claude gave her a deeply cautious look. “What is this, dearest—the third degree?”

“I don’t want to make you sad, Claude. You’ve always been a very dear friend. It’s just that I have to know. Too much has been kept from me.”

Claude shot her a pitying look. “Darling, you appreciate the terrible difficulties?”

Camille nodded, her rose-gold hair a bright aura around her pale face. “My father brought misery to so many people. I used to think he hated me. Maybe he did.”

Claude reached out and clasped her hand. “Hating was Harry’s nature. He only loved Natalie.”

“Or pretended to love her.”

Claude smiled sadly into her eyes. “I’m utterly convinced he did. I would never lie to you. Natalie was
Harry’s heart. After he lost her, he was like a jungle animal.”

“You must know she renewed her relationship with Hugh, don’t you?”

Claude’s shoulders sagged. “If she did, I don’t know how she managed it. Harry watched her like a hawk.”

“He couldn’t watch her
all
the time. It’s possible to have an affair right under someone’s nose.”

“Then she was playing with her life,” Claude said grimly. “Vandenberg’s, too. She would have had to be desperate. Natalie was a lovely person. A woman of great loyalty, not an adultress.”

“Except in the end she was loyal to Hugo. Harry was a temporary madness.”

“Lombard told you all this?” Claude asked painfully.

Camille nodded and bit her lip. “It’s taken its toll on him, too. His uncle meant a great deal to him. You know what happened afterward?”

“Vandenberg killed himself. Yes, I know that.”

“How
did he do it?”

“He shot himself,” Claude said starkly. “The Vandenbergs are very private people. The whole thing was hushed up. It was years before I knew of Lombard’s involvement.”

“Were you aware my mother was pregnant at the time of her death?”

Claude’s cherubic pink face drained. “It came out at the inquest. Surely the most telling reason why Harry would never have harmed her. Their innocent child.”

“He didn’t care a hoot about me.”

Claude shook his balding head. “Your father was a ruthless man, God knows. But I didn’t see him as a murderer.”

“Maybe, like me, you have to reform your image of him.”

Claude’s face was filled with anguish and confusion. “I couldn’t begin to believe it. I’d be ill. If only we knew what Lombard was getting at. His uncle’s death must have twisted him. He would have been in his teens—a critical time. I loved Natalie. We all did. I wouldn’t have stood by if—” Claude broke off, unashamed tears in his eyes.

“Forgive me, Claude.” Camille placed her hand on his, applying comforting pressure.

Claude struggled for control. “No one can know
exactly
what happened that terrible day. All I know is your father suffered dreadfully. You must believe that. He lost his soul when he lost Natalie. And now all three of them are gone.”

“Except Nick Lombard and me.”

“Maybe you should keep as faraway from him as possible,” Claude said gravely.

Camille gave an odd laugh. “Fate is working against that.”

“He’s involved with that Tennant woman, isn’t he?”

“She
seems to think so.” Camille resumed her seat.

“Take care, my dear,” Claude warned. “You’re a babe in arms compared to Clare Tennant. She’s a striking-looking woman, I grant you, but there’s something sinister about her. The old boy’s family despise her. Rumor had it he was about to make another will when he had the final stroke. She got the lion’s share.”

“Did you know
Nick’s
wife?”

“No.” Claude rubbed a distracted hand over his shiny pink pate. “I saw her at a few functions. She came from a well-to-do but rather tricky family. One-half were brilliant, the other half unstable. She was beautiful. Dark hair, ice blue eyes, white skin. Much too thin but a marvelous dresser. The little girl has no look of her at all.”

“She has her father’s eyes. Magnificent eyes. And his thick curly hair, which she wears in an unflattering braid. She has lots of problems, but she tugs at my heartstrings.”

“She’s a little…slow?” Claude asked delicately.

“Why would you say that?” Camille looked at her friend in surprise.

“My dear, it’s the rumor.”

“Then pass this one on. She has a superior intelligence. Unfortunately she’s been mishandled. She told me her mother adored her, called her her little princess, yet Clare Tennant tells an entirely different story. She says Melissa’s mother couldn’t stand the sight of her.”

“How appalling!” Claude’s eyes widened. “If it’s true. I wouldn’t believe too much of anything that woman said. On the other hand, it would explain a lot.”

“So maybe Melissa invented the perfect relationship because the reality was too much to bear.”

“But Lombard himself? I can’t believe—”

“He loves her,” Camille interrupted. “He’s worried about her, as well. But they do have a good relationship.”

Claude exhaled a long relieved breath. “Thank God
for that! I have to say what little I’ve seen of the man has impressed me. His wife may have been neurotic, though I wouldn’t know. I do know she was a great one for parties.”

“Who isn’t?” Camille smiled ironically.

“Certainly not me. How shall I put this?
Wild
parties. You know what forms those can take….”

“I don’t want to speculate.”

“But you intend to keep the relationship going?”

“What
relationship?”

“There’s no need to feel guilty, my darling. I simply meant you care for the child.”

“She needs someone to look out for her.”

“You don’t see the stunning Clare Tennant in that role?”

Camille showed her anxieties. “She comes into the small category of women who don’t like children. She’s not at all maternal. She’s an overtly sexual creature.”

“That doesn’t go down badly with men,” Claude remarked dryly.

“I’d have thought Nick Lombard would want a great deal more in a woman than that.”

O
VER DINNER
they discussed the feasibility of Camille’s opening an art gallery dealing exclusively with promising young artists, who often had difficulty getting their work shown.

Claude wasn’t at all surprised by Camille’s shift in direction. As her mentor, he took it as a compliment she wanted to move into the art world. She had a fine critical eye; she’d lived with fine art all her life; she had the business skills to make a go of it.

All she needed were premises and some capital. Claude knew of a good place, currently leased by an antique dealer who was moving into a larger building; he thought he could arrange something there. As for capital, he could lend her money. After all, she was his honorary niece, and it was agreed Camille might have difficulty getting a substantial loan from a bank.

As for promising young artists, both of them knew plenty, so there was an abundance to choose from, but as always, only a relative few would make the grade.

“I think you should look at the work of some young aboriginal artists,” Claude suggested. “They’re doing wonderful work. I also met the most amazing young Japanese woman the other day. She’s working in watercolors but she’s far removed from the traditional. I’ll introduce you.”

“That’d be great!” Camille took up another delicious forkful of lightly grilled salmon. “By the way, Linda wants a job as my. assistant.”

“You’ll need one. But Linda? I thought she was a dedicated little homemaker. It was so sad about her miscarriage. I would have thought she and Stephen would want to try again fairly soon.”

“Things aren’t going terribly well for Lindy and Stephen at the moment, Claude. She needs time to work through her grief. Stephen’s not coping with that very well.”

“I’m so sorry. They always seemed such a happy young couple. Dreadful woman, the mother-in-law. Don’t care for her at all. Linda must find her quite overpowering.”

“That’s much of the problem.” Camille sighed.
“At this point I don’t know how it’s all going to end. I can’t see any of them changing.”

“Perhaps Linda should have thought of that before she married.”

“We all make mistakes, Claude. Like I made with Philip.”

Claude laid down his knife and fork. “Dearest, it was a simple desire for affection. Harry treated you so badly.”

“Now you’re calling him Harry.”

“I mean your
father.”
Claude picked up his wineglass and drained it. “Make no mistake, though, you did inherit some of his toughness and his brain. I can see it in you. He came from nowhere to build a business empire. It was only in the last years he began to make his mistakes. Megalomania took over.”

“I don’t think it was greed so much as mortal combat,” Camille offered, feeling her way. “If he’d let up on his ruthless ambitions, he might have had to face a far greater menace. Himself. I’ve thought about it and thought about it, but I still haven’t worked it through.”

Claude frowned. “I have to agree he became increasingly withdrawn and morose. But isn’t that the pattern with suicide? Look, we could go on with this interminably. Let me set your mind at rest. Harry Guilford was your father. No doubt. He loved your mother passionately. He could never have hurt her. Never in his right mind.”