Chapter 242: Chapter Two Hundred And Forty One
Far away in the lower city, the sun was slowly beginning to set. The busy streets were growing quiet as the merchants closed their wooden stalls for the evening.
Inside the large, freshly painted fabric store, Camilla and Allen had finally finished for the day.
It had been a very long, very stressful, and incredibly exhausting afternoon. After the terrifying incident with Damon, they had spent hours trying to put the store in perfect order.
Camilla wiped a small drop of sweat from her forehead. She stood near the center of the room and looked around. She felt a deep, warm sense of pride and accomplishment.
The fabrics had been sorted out. The rolls of silk, cotton, and crisp linen were arranged perfectly on the new wooden shelves. The colors were separated neatly, going from dark shades to light shades. The small paper tags showing the prices were tied securely to every single roll.
The store had been swept clean. The floorboards were free of dust and dirt. The large glass windows at the front of the shop were polished and shining clearly.
The renovation is done by eighty percent. The mirrors were hung on the side walls, making the store look large and welcoming. The comfortable velvet chairs for the resting area were placed neatly near the front windows.
Only a few minor details, like hanging the front sign and painting the back door, were left to finish.
Allen walked over to the table. He looked very tired, and his neck still showed faint red marks from Damon’s tight grip, but his face was glowing with happy excitement. He looked at the neat shelves and the clean floors.
Allen smiled widely at his sister-in-law.
"We did a great job today," Allen said, his voice full of hope. He looked around the bright store. He suggested, "We can open the store in two days, since everything is almost in place."
Camilla looked at him. She thought about the remaining work. Two days was a very realistic, practical timeline. The painters could finish the sign tomorrow, they could also hire some workers and they could open their doors to the public the day after.
Camilla agreed smoothly. "Yes. Two days is perfect. We will be ready."
She picked up her small silk purse from the table. She was incredibly tired. Her feet ached from standing on the floor, and her mind was exhausted from dealing with fabrics, numbers, and an angry husband.
"I need to go home and rest," Camilla told him gently. "Make sure the doors are locked properly tonight."
"I will, sister-in-law," Allen replied, bowing his head respectfully. "Have a safe journey back to the mansion."
Camilla walked out of the bright fabric store and stepped into the cool evening air of the lower city. Her carriage was waiting patiently on the street.
The driver opened the door for her. Camilla got into her carriage. She sat down heavily on the soft velvet seat, letting out a long, quiet sigh of relief. The carriage door closed, and the driver cracked his leather reins. The horses moved forward, and she went home.
The carriage ride took some time. Camilla leaned her head against the side of the carriage, watching the dark buildings pass by the small window. The sky turned dark, filled with bright, twinkling stars.
Finally, the carriage rolled through the high gates of the Benson estate. The wheels bumped smoothly against the stone pavement of the large courtyard. The carriage came to a complete stop.
The footman opened the door, and Camilla stepped down onto the stones.
As soon as her boots touched the ground, she saw Mr. Murry walking quickly toward her. The older housekeeper was holding a warm yellow oil lamp to light the dark courtyard. He had a very warm, polite smile on his wrinkled face.
Murry welcomed her respectfully. He bowed his gray head.
"My lady, you are back," Murry said, his deep voice carrying a comforting, familiar tone.
Camilla smiled back at him.
She thought about the events of the afternoon. She remembered Damon leaving the fabric store looking defeated and full of shame. She wondered if he had gone back to his military camp to hide and sulk in his tent.
Camilla spoke, her voice sounding casual but carrying a small hint of genuine curiosity.
"Uncle Murry, is the general home?" Camilla asked softly.
Murry’s warm smile grew even wider. His eyes twinkled brightly in the light of the oil lamp. He was always happy to see the young couple asking about each other.
Murry smiled brightly. "Yes my lady. He came back some minutes ago."
Camilla blinked in surprise. She did not expect him to be home so early. She thought he would definitely stay away to avoid seeing her after the terrible, embarrassing mistake he had made.
"He actually came back?" Camilla thought to herself, her mind feeling slightly confused.
She did not show her surprise. She kept her face calm and polite.
Camilla nodded her head slowly.
"Thank you, Uncle Murry," Camilla replied smoothly. She reached up and rubbed the back of her tired neck. Her muscles felt stiff and heavy.
"Can you tell the maids to prepare a bath for me," Camilla requested softly, letting out a small, tired breath. "I had a very long day."
Murry bowed deeply again. He understood.
Murry replied eagerly, "Right away, my lady. I will have them fill the copper tub with hot water and sweet oils immediately."
Murry turned around and walked quickly toward the servant’s entrance to give the orders to the kitchen maids to start heating water for the bath.
Camilla turned and walked up the wide stone stairs. She entered the bright, quiet grand foyer of the house. The crystal chandeliers cast a soft, warm light over the polished marble floors.
She walked slowly toward the grand, curving staircase. She placed her hand lightly on the railing and began to climb the stairs to the second floor.
With every single step she took, her mind grew heavier with deep, complicated thoughts. The busy distractions of the fabric store were gone. She was now alone with her memories of the afternoon.
She thought about the moment in the store. She remembered what she had done to him.
She remembered stepping forward. She remembered swinging her arm with all her strength. She remembered the loud, sharp, stinging sound of her hand connecting with his face.
She had slapped the Tyrant General.
As she walked up the stairs, she murmured softly to herself in the quiet, empty hallway.
"Was I too harsh on him?" Camilla asked herself, her voice barely a quiet whisper.
She stopped on the landing for a brief second. She frowned, her eyebrows pulling together in a look of serious debate.
She tried to view the situation logically. She tried to see it from his perspective.
"It wasn’t his fault he misunderstood," Camilla reasoned, letting out a slow sigh. She started walking down the hallway again.
She knew the misunderstanding was the real blame for the terrible situation.
But she quickly argued back. She tightened her grip on the silk folds of her dress.
"But then, he isn’t a child," she said to herself, her voice turning strict and annoyed again. "He is a grown man. He is a trained military leader. He is supposed to investigate situations before he attacks people."
She shook her head side to side, feeling a mix of guilt and lingering frustration.
"He should have asked me about it first," Camilla complained silently, staring at the dark doors lining the hallway. "He should have walked into the store, called my name, and asked me a simple question. I would have given him clarification. I would have introduced him to Allen properly as my business partner. There was absolutely no need to grab someone by the throat."
She reached the end of the long hallway. She stopped walking.
She was standing right in front of the door of the master bedroom.
She let out one final, tired breath. She decided she would just take her hot bath, put on her nightgown, eat and go straight to sleep. She did not want to argue with Damon tonight. She was too exhausted for another mental battle.
She reached out her hand and grabbed the brass handle.
She turned the handle slowly. It clicked softly in the quiet hall. She pushed the door open and stepped fully into the bedroom.
She looked toward the center of the room.
Camilla stopped dead in her tracks. Her hand froze on the handle.
She was utterly surprised by what she saw.
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