When We Meet Again (3 page)

"Dear Lord." Aunt Millicent began again, "please grasp Aunt Elizabeth to your loving bosom although"—she frowned—"as Mr. Corby says she entered your domain more than six months ago. I should think if you have not already taken her to your loving bosom, then perhaps she did not ascend in your direction but rather descend—"

"Aunt Millicent!" Clarissa said, eyes wide with shock although Pamela thought she certainly should have expected such a eulogy from their aunt.

"Yes, of course. Speaking ill of the dead and all that." Aunt Millicent glanced upward. "Sorry. Now then where was I? Ah yes." She cleared her throat and again looked piously toward heaven. "Dear Lord, if indeed Aunt Elizabeth is at your gates, please accept her into your kingdom and forgive her for her sins, although I should think you would wish her to explain her behavior first. She always was a rather unpleasant sort." Aunt Millicent thought for a moment. "If, of course, she has already gained admittance, well then, never mind. I'm certain you have more important matters to attend to." Aunt Millicent nodded.

"Forever and ever. Amen."

"Amen," the others echoed in unison.

"Now." Aunt Millicent's eyes sparkled. "Mr. Corby was also kind enough to bring us a number of boring dry legal documents that nonetheless bear wonderful, wonderful tidings." Mr. Corwin smiled at the cousins. "A substantial inheritance." Pamela and Clarissa exchanged glances.

"Quite substantial." Aunt Millicent cast them a radiant smile. "Consisting of Elizabeth's grand house in the very best part of London as well as a sizable fortune."

"How perfect for you." Pamela said with a smile of genuine pleasure. It was indeed perfect. The house Aunt Millicent had shared with her husband was part of the estate that accompanied his title and had gone to his younger brother upon his death. Aunt Millicent had inherited a respectable fortune but no property. She had always claimed it left her free to explore the world, but on those rare occasions when she spoke of her husband or their life together, it was obvious she wished for a permanent residence, a home to replace the one she had lost.

"Oh no, dearest. It is not my inheritance alone." Aunt Millicent shook her head. "It is to be shared among the three of us. It is ours."

Clarissa gasped. "Ours?"

"I don't quite understand. Why am I included in this?" Pamela drew her brows together. "I barely knew Aunt Elizabeth, and I had the distinct impression she had never approved of my mother's marriage."

"You must remember there was a great deal in this world of which Elizabeth did not approve. In spite of the Effington wealth and prestige and the fact that the head of the family, your uncle, is the Duke of Roxborough, the Effingtons did not quite meet her standards. She always was rather a snob." Aunt Millicent shrugged. "She did not approve of me either, yet I, too, am her beneficiary. It makes no sense, but there you have it."

"If you would permit me. Lady Smythe-Windom." Mr. Corby smiled at Aunt Millicent, and it was obvious that the solicitor was yet another man who had fallen under her spell. Even at the age of five-and-forty. Aunt Millicent was still an attractive woman and had a vibrancy about her that made her quite irresistible to all manner of men, ranging from nobility to servants. "Lady Gorham's affairs were always handled by an older member of the firm, and while I never had direct dealings with her, it is my understanding that she felt Miss Effington was not a typical representative of her family." Clarissa snorted in unladylike manner. "She has obviously not seen you for a very long time."

"Obviously." Pamela said under her breath.

It was obvious as well that Elizabeth had no knowledge of Pamela's fallen state, which came as something of a surprise. She thought everyone in the world—or, at least, in their world—had heard of her disastrous ill judgment and subsequent moment of weakness. Certainly her family had claimed, both in letters and visits through the years, that there had been far greater scandals to capture the ton's attention subsequent to hers. Why, the loss of virtue of one young woman was scarcely worth mentioning after the initial burst of gossip. She had certainly believed them in a rational portion of her mind, but even so she simply hadn't been able to bear the humiliation of her downfall. At least not then. An unbidden thought struck her: What would her family think if they knew George was not her only indiscretion?

"Furthermore, she expressed a great deal of concern as to Lady Smythe-Windom's continued way of life as well as its influence on Miss Effington." He glanced at Clarissa. "And Lady Overton. She felt with this legacy all three of you would be able to live a proper, respectable sort of life."

"Respectable is such a vague word." Aunt Millicent murmured.

"What utter nonsense." Disdain rang in Clarissa's voice.

Pamela's chin raised. "Our lives are completely respectable."

"I have no doubt of that." Mr. Corwin said firmly. "Indeed, now that I have met Lady Smythe-Windom for myself I think your aunt's fears were nothing more than the product of an unyielding disposition coupled with advanced age. In addition, you must realize that what is not at all uncommon on the Continent is seen in an entirely different light in England. Like your aunt, we English have a tendency to be a touch"—he bit back a smile—"stodgy ourselves."

"Not all of you surely?" Aunt Millicent cast him her brightest smile. A blush colored his cheeks, and the cousins traded private grins.

"Not all." he said, then shook his head slightly as if to clear it. "Now then"—he pulled a sheaf of papers from a black satchel—"to begin with, your signatures are required on several of these documents. Your funds have been placed in an account in the Bank of England. As for the house, it is my understanding it is ready for immediate occupancy." He stepped to a nearby writing desk and laid out the documents.

"Details regarding the house are oddly vague, as Lady Gorham had not lived in London for a number of years, preferring to spend her time in a manor in the country which, under the terms of a nearly century-old lease, reverted to the owners of a nearby estate upon her death. I am told, however, the London residence has been kept fully staffed and meticulously maintained." He dipped a pen into a conveniently placed inkstand. "Ladies, if you would be so kind." Mr. Corby continued his endless explanations of the details of precisely what they were signing and the arrangements regarding their newfound wealth and property. Although Pamela nodded and smiled at what she hoped were appropriate moments, she was too stunned to concentrate on what he was saying. His words were as incomprehensible as if he were speaking a foreign language. Pamela, Clarissa, and Aunt Millicent were now, to be blunt, rich. Obscenely, delightfully wealthy. Pamela's family had always had money, of course, and on her marriage she would have a rather significant dowry, but this was her own. She would never have to depend on her family's support again. She could choose to marry, she had always wished to marry, but did have to face the fact that the chances were slim at the advanced age of six-and-twenty. But now she didn't have to wed if she didn't wish to do so. She could support charities, sponsor artists, do nearly anything. She could indeed choose her own future, her own fate.

And they had a home of their very own as well. Clarissa's family home had passed to a distant relative upon her father's death. The house she had shared with her husband had belonged to his parents, who had begrudgingly allowed her to remain in residence for more than a year after his death. It was at that point Aunt Millicent had invited Clarissa to join her on her travels. Both aunt and niece were in nearly the same circumstances after all, both having lost a husband they loved as well as a home, although Aunt Millicent had a great deal of money and Clarissa barely any. Scarcely a week later. Pamela had fallen from grace and desperately wished to leave London as well. The trio had not seen fit to return to England since.

"If there is any assistance I can lend you regarding your return to London"—Mr. Corby paused to sprinkle sand on the signatures—"do feel free to call on me. I am currently in residence at the Hotel—"

"What do you mean by return to London?" Pamela stared at the solicitor. Mr. Corby frowned. "My apologies. Miss Effington, I thought you understood. To lay claim to your inheritance, all three of you must present yourself in person to a representative of the bank. That will start the process, rather involved and complicated reality, but the transfer of amounts like this takes a bit of time. However, within a month, possibly less, your money will be available to you. Furthermore, you must take up residence in the house."

"Take up residence?" Clarissa's eyes widened. "You mean return to London to live?" Aunt Millicent looked shocked by the very idea. "Permanently?"

"For now at least." He thought for a moment. "There is no particular time period of residency specified in Lady Gorham's will although I should think as little as a year should suffice to meet the terms of the bequest."

"A year," Clarissa said slowly.

"A year," Pamela echoed.

"I have not lived anywhere for a full year in, well, years," Aunt Millicent said under her breath. Mr. Corby raised a brow. "Does this present a problem?"

"No." Pamela said without thinking. Her gaze locked with Clarissa's. "I am ready to return home. I miss England more than I can say. I miss my parents and my sister and my brothers and everyone else in my family. In truth. I have been thinking of returning home for some time now." Her gaze slid to Aunt Millicent. "These years have done more for me than I can say, and I shall always be grateful to you, but—"

"It's past time to return home." Aunt Millicent said firmly. "We have all been away far too long." She turned to the solicitor and cast him a blinding smile. "Mr. Corby, we are most grateful for your assistance thus far, and you can be certain we will indeed call on you in London should it become necessary."

"Of course." Mr. Corby gathered his things together, started toward the door, then paused. "Lady Smythe-Windom. I hope this does not seem improperly forward, but I should be delighted if you would do me the honor of joining me for supper this evening."

"I would like nothing better." Aunt Millicent said in that way she had that made every man feel as though she would indeed like nothing better than to be with him and him alone. A few moments later the gentleman took his leave.

"I have no reason to go home. No one I have missed, no one who has missed me." Clarissa heaved a resigned sigh. "Yet I, too, miss England."

"Good. I could never go without you." Pamela turned to her aunt. "Aunt Millicent?"

"I should be happy to accompany you both back to England. However I must confess, and I'm not entirely sure why I feel this way but"—Aunt Millicent blew an anxious breath—"permanent has an altogether frightening ring to it."

"I should be happy to accompany you both back to England. However I must confess, and I'm not entirely sure why I feel this way but"—Aunt Millicent blew an anxious breath—"permanent has an altogether frightening ring to it."

"Nonsense." Pamela studied her aunt in disbelief. "Nothing scares you."

"And surely you don't think we could live in a grand house without you?" Clarissa stared. "Or anywhere without you. Aside from Pamela's family, you are the only family I have left in the world."

"That's very dear of you, but—"

"It's been a long time since you lived in London." Pamela adopted a tempting tone and moved to her aunt's right. "You cannot tell us you haven't missed it."

"Well, I suppose..." Aunt Millicent murmured.

"And if we leave Vienna as soon as possible, we shall be back for the start of the season." Clarissa stepped to Aunt Millicent's left and lowered her voice seductively. "You do remember the season, don't you? The routs, the balls, the soirees."

"The gentlemen." Pamela added.

Aunt Millicent bit her lip, a thoughtful look in her eye. "I have always loved the season."

"I suspect, given what Mr. Corby didn't say as well as what he did, that it's entirely possible that if we don't all join in this legacy, together"—Pamela heaved an overly dramatic sigh—"none of us will get any of it at all."

Clarissa shook her head in a mournful manner. "What a great pity that would be."

"It did sound that way, didn't it?" Aunt Millicent's brows drew together.

"Indeed it did." Clarissa nodded.

"I daresay Great-aunt Elizabeth probably arranged it this way because she knew you would be reluctant to return home." Pamela adopted a casual tone. "Just the thing she'd do, too, reaching out from beyond the grave—"

"To toy with us." Clarissa sighed. "To get the very last word even beyond—"

"That's quite enough." Aunt Millicent glanced from Pamela to Clarissa, then shook her head. "I can accept defeat when I am faced with it. I cannot guarantee permanence, but we shall see. Very well then, my dears." She took her nieces' hands in hers and drew a deep breath. "Let us go home."

Two

If I ever see my country again, I shall kiss the very ground beneath my feet. But then I shall never see my country again.

His Royal Highness, Prince Alexei Pruzinsky

"Out with it, man. What are you trying to say?" Alexei Frederick Berthold Ruprect Pruzinsky, crown prince and heir to the throne of the Kingdom of Greater Avalonia, Servant of the Doctrines of St. Stanislaus, Guardian of the Heavens of Avalonia, Protector of the People, glared at the man who had once been his loyal chief of staff, was now an equally loyal friend, and still in charge of his affairs, financial, and to a certain extent, personal as well. "I cannot possibly be—"