Free A Collector of Hearts by Sally Quilford Page B

dear
lady.”
                Caroline saw a small smile playing on the lips of Count
Chlomsky, but there was also sadness behind his eyes. He really did have it bad
for Mrs Oakengate. What a pity she could not see it. To Caroline’s mind the
elderly, but courtly, Count was a much more suitable partner for her employer.
                “I believe, Mrs Oakengate,” said the Count, “that with
your indomitable spirit you should go as Boudicca.”
                “I did once play her in a production,” said Mrs
Oakengate, smiling. Her smile suggested she was not averse to the Count. “But
we were closed down on the first night. I only wanted authenticity. How was I
to know that having real horses would cause so much trouble?” That was followed
by general laughter around the table, even though Mrs Oakengate did not seem
aware that she had said anything amusing.
                “You must have lots of stories from your acting days,”
said Caroline. In truth she had heard many of them, but it made her employer happy
to go over them again, especially with a new audience. “Tell me about your tour
in Cariastan.”
                “Oh that. Well, I was very young then, and playing Nora
in A Doll’s House. We had to change the ending of that for some countries, you
know. The authorities would not tolerate a wife walking out on her husband.”
                “And then you met my father,” said Prince Henri.
                “Oh yes. He was so handsome, with his dark hair and …”
Mrs Oakengate stopped and stared across the table, before turning her head to
the prince and searching his face as if she hoped to find something there. She
suddenly looked very old and very confused. “Oh … I seem to have missed my cue.
As we say in the theatre.” Her face was first ashen white, then flushed and
covered in a light film of perspiration.
                “Are you alright, Mrs Oakengate?” asked Caroline. “Can I
get you anything?”
                “I’d rather like some water please. Of course, it can’t
be so. No. I’m being silly. My old mind playing tricks on me.” Mrs Oakengate
looked as if she were about to cry.
                “What?” asked Caroline. “What is it?” She held out some
water, but Mrs Oakengate appeared to have forgotten she asked for it.
                Mrs Oakengate stood up, but was unsteady on her feet.
Caroline caught her arm. “I’m not as big a fool as people take me for,” said Mrs
Oakengate.
                “No, of course you’re not,” said Caroline, who felt very
frightened by Mrs Oakengate’s sudden loss of spirit. “What is it? What’s
brought this on?”
                “If you don’t mind, I should like to lie down now. Will
you take me upstairs please?”
                Caroline looked across at Blake, who was looking at the
prince, who was looking at Mrs Oakengate with a strange expression on his face.
                “Is there anything I can do to help, dear lady?” asked
Count Chlomsky, standing up.
                “Thank you, sir, but I will be perfectly alright,” said
Mrs Oakengate.
                As Caroline helped her up the stairs, Mrs Oakengate kept
repeating. “I was so sure. Now I don’t know anymore. But it must be. It must
be.” When Caroline tried to press her for information, Mrs Oakengate went
deathly quiet and refused to say anything else until they got to her room.

 
 
    Chapter Seven

 
 
    “Thank you, Caroline,” said
Mrs Oakengate, in a rare show of gratitude. She lay back on her bed “I think
I’ll just lie here for a while. Perhaps you could let me know when the courier
arrives from London.”
                “Yes, of course. Would you like me to sit with you a
while?”
                “No … yes. Just for a few minutes.”