Chapter 5
Camilla woke early and went for a walk in the rose garden before breakfast, enjoying the privacy of the morning.
The light was soft, and sounds of nature sprang to life all around her.
Some of the smaller rose bushes, and those climbing over the trellis, were having a second or third flush of blossoms to finish the season.
Her favorite had large peach-colored blooms with hints of yellow and the most delicious scent.
Life was delicious, too. Although she could not say with any certainty that Pembroke felt enough for her to make an offer, she knew his esteem for her had grown.
She felt it in their exchanges, which had deepened in intimacy during his visit, culminating with last night when he had declared he was finally ready to settle down at the very moment he was holding her niece.
He wouldn’t say that if he did not mean with her, would he?
She had spent the last two years hardly daring to hope he would think of her at all, other than as Dorothea’s little sister.
He had always been attentive to her and responded when she spoke, understood her humor before anyone else, and sought her out whenever he came into a room.
But last night was different. He had given such obvious signs of attachment that surely even Sophia would encourage her to hope had she been there to witness it.
But Camilla would not tell Sophia. Not yet.
This she would keep to herself, she decided, as she returned to the house.
They were to go on their picnic at Hergest Ridge, and the day they had chosen for the outing was a fine one.
The hot weather had ceded its place to autumn without yet growing chilly.
A gentle sun shone, and the blue sky above set to advantage cotton-white clouds.
Neither rain nor humidity would spoil their pleasure.
Although the party had been in advance with their preparations, they suffered various delays over forgotten items before finally setting off in a small train of curricle, gig, and horseback.
Only Dorothea stayed behind with their mother and Lady Isabelle, neither wishing to leave the baby with Nurse nor thinking it wise to bring her.
It was decided that Miles would drive Camilla and Tilly in his curricle, with Felix borrowing an older gig to drive Sophia. Joanna insisted on riding beside the carriages on horseback, and was joined by Pembroke and Evo.
In the shade of the curricle, Camilla was content to look at the scenery and keep to her own thoughts.
She resisted the urge to let her eyes drift toward Pembroke.
There were many thoughts to contemplate, and hardly a one to distress her.
In the carriage beside them, Sophia talked to her husband in a gentle stream of confidences, as they smiled with that first blush of love.
Joanna rode beside Miles and entertained Tilly, squeezed in the middle, by pointing out things she thought might interest her.
In a half hour, they arrived at the base of the hill, and the horses pursued the easiest trail to the top.
The journey going up was longer than the one to reach the base of the hill, and they stopped once to allow the horses to rest and drink from a stream.
At last, they arrived at the flat summit where they did indeed have the promised unhindered view in all directions, giving them the sensation of being on top of the world.
Camilla had come once before when visiting Miles and Dorothea after their marriage.
On that particular day, however, the sky was too gray to see anything. Today was different.
They had come without servants, and as soon as Tilly leapt down from the curricle, she went to the boot and pulled out three rolled blankets. “It is a good thing we have come in September, considering there are no trees to give shade.”
“Yes, it is not recommended to come unless the weather is fair.” Miles finished unhitching the horses. “Here, allow me to carry the basket.”
Joanna and Evo continued on to the side of the ridge and let their horses walk along it a way, stopping to point at natural landmarks in the distance.
It had been agreed upon by all that they would eat first before setting out to see the scenery.
Camilla helped to set up the picnic, sparing a few glances at Pembroke, who had finished caring for his horse and now went to have a few words with Felix.
“Evo!” Miles waved him over, and Felix and Pembroke broke off and came over to the blankets where everything was laid out.
Camilla sat on her heels and handed a stack of plates to Tilly, refraining from showing any signs of being flustered when Pembroke sat beside her.
Tilly placed sandwiches on each plate, and Camilla began to cut the pears she had added at the last minute, thinking they would taste well with the other picnic fare.
There was no board to cut them on, so she sliced them in her hand, taking care not to cut herself.
“What can I do to help?” Pembroke asked.
“Pour the lemonade?” she suggested.
“You ought to see the view,” Joanna exclaimed as she arrived with Evo, flushed with good humor.
“We will walk over and see it after we eat,” Camilla said, wanting to make sure everyone was cared for. They had had a late start, and it had been some hours since everyone had eaten breakfast.
“Hand me another sandwich, will you?” Evo coaxed, bumping Tilly’s arm with his plate.
“Leave off, Evo,” she retorted. “I want to make sure everyone has been served first.”
Camilla smiled at her sister. This confidence was new. “Well done, Tilly. That is how you must keep him in line.”
“Your sister knows best about such matters, Lady Matilda,” Pembroke said at her side.
Camilla turned to him with an amused glance but the distraction was ill-timed, for she had been bearing down with the knife and felt a sharp pinch in the palm of her hand.
“Oh,” she cried out, then hissed as the pain began to pulse. The yellow skin of the pear grew red, and she dropped it.
“Camilla!” Lord Pembroke whipped the handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and wrapped it around her palm and applied pressure, then looked at her in concern. “Are you well? Can you bear it?”
She nodded, though she didn’t feel well at all. When he opened the handkerchief to examine the wound, she saw the beads of red before he quickly applied pressure again.
“Sit back,” Evo urged, as he sat facing the other way, presenting his back and adding, “Lean against me.” She obeyed and realized she was trembling.
Tilly had begun to cry, and Sophia went to sit beside her and offer comfort.
The others had gathered around Camilla in concern, and she was thankful for Evo’s slender, solid back which kept her upright without effort.
Although the edges of her vision seemed hazy, she was more conscious than anything of Pembroke cradling her hand in his large, warm palm as he applied pressure to the cut with his other.
“I don’t suppose you have any spirits with you? Something strong?” Miles asked Felix, who was now sitting beside Sophia, supporting her as she tended to Tilly. He shook his head.
Pembroke tilted his head in the direction of his horse. “I’ve a flask of Highland Scotch in my saddlebag. I had forgotten about it. Downing pressed it upon me when I was leaving his estate in Lancashire. Said it’s a Glenlivet, and I should appreciate it.”
“I had thought to use it to clean the wound,” Miles said hesitantly. “I suppose it won’t do.”
“No, fetch it. This is more important.” He brought his gaze to Camilla. “You are not feeling faint, are you?” She was, but she shook her head.
Miles brought the flask over and unscrewed the cap. “I am sorry for your Highland whiskey, Rock. I’ll try not to use it all.” Taking Camilla’s hand from Pembroke’s he added, “I am afraid this will burn.”
She was unable to speak and just nodded to tell him to proceed. Pembroke lifted the handkerchief, which was now more red than white, and Miles poured the Scotch over the cut. She cried out as fire seared through her palm, stealing her breath.
“Use this.” Miles pulled out his own handkerchief and tossed it to his cousin, who caught it.
Pembroke reapplied the pressure to her palm with the clean handkerchief, and Camilla squeezed her eyes shut, though tears leaked out.
“I believe you should lie down,” Pembroke said. “You are looking pale. Evo, help your sister.”
With an alacrity Camilla had not thought possible, Evo turned and helped her gently to lie down.
The sight of his face full of concern made the tears well up again.
Then she looked on her other side and saw a similar look of worry in Lord Pembroke’s and fought to keep her emotions from flying out in all directions.
She sniffed, then reached for the usual habit she employed for coping—besides cake.
“Evo, I think I need my legs raised. Do you think you could go on all fours and serve as a footrest?”
He almost obeyed, but the sight of Camilla’s lip twitching—and truly she was astonished that she could find anything funny at that moment—brought him up short. He sat back on his heels and looked down at her, his face resuming a more normal expression of haughty irony.
“I have done more for you than you deserve already. And you forget yourself, for—”
“‘I am the head of this family,’” Tilly finished quickly, causing everyone to laugh and breaking the spell of anguish that had been cast over them.