The Cavendon Women
The Cavendon Women
Barbara Taylor Bradford
‘If you’ve been suffering withdrawal symptoms from Downton, this is for you’ Daily MailA stately home. The roaring twenties. And four spirited girls who must forge a new future for themselves.On a summer weekend in 1926 the Ingham family gathers at the great house in Yorkshire that has been their family home for centuries. With them are the Swanns who have served them for generations – and know all their secrets.The estate is under threat: the aftermath of the Great War has left it facing ruin. Four young women from both sides of the house must shape its future – Daphne, fighting to modernise her ancestral home; Cecily Swann, flying high as a fashion designer in London; Deidre, the career girl, and Dulcie, the outspoken debutante. As the roaring twenties burn towards the Great Depression, nothing will ever be the same again…
Copyright (#ubce4fe8e-dbfc-5ec5-a2dc-e33a22ffab19)
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2015
Copyright © Barbara Taylor Bradford 2015
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishersPublishers Ltd 2015
Cover photographs © Morgan Norman/Gallery Stock (front); Jill Battaglia/Trevillion Images (back).
Barbara Taylor Bradford asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN 9780007503261
Ebook Edition © October 2015 ISBN: 9780007503254
Version 2018-02-16
Dedication (#ubce4fe8e-dbfc-5ec5-a2dc-e33a22ffab19)
For Bob, with all my love always
Table of Contents
Cover (#ua11594f8-09c8-5ed8-9d8e-d872e974bdaf)
Title Page (#u29984afb-031e-5c24-a296-da1194b3ca8f)
Copyright (#ude42bc9e-65f8-530e-9ae3-c04d272c00c9)
Dedication (#ua48f464e-747f-5f93-8af4-0d1388b5a43b)
Characters (#ue2c69853-097f-5cb0-a703-0b292ae5317a)
Part One: A Family Reunion (#uccb36121-4259-575c-972d-bcccb89ca91b)
Chapter One (#u18671ab8-40a6-5c00-999e-4bba20469fc8)
Chapter Two (#u0c8e969d-3df5-54dc-995c-00897bb61963)
Chapter Three (#u3625a95d-6d0b-5c11-a671-4ac0a0a03f23)
Chapter Four (#ufe377608-75b1-5b54-8f29-c28a24e45cbf)
Chapter Five (#ue5f28b13-d761-5a1b-81c8-5986012bdeba)
Chapter Six (#u8d8d57ba-d7f2-5c2e-ba56-8b795424bc01)
Chapter Seven (#u2c918cfb-ff66-5865-8e1b-d4f3a1100eae)
Chapter Eight (#u0800ae2b-4ef1-5f90-8bf7-05f08e79c411)
Chapter Nine (#u5bfefcb3-0eb1-5fd3-9ec1-d31da8c0a710)
Chapter Ten (#u2120aaa4-cbdc-58a9-b34a-d159e3f5a50e)
Chapter Eleven (#u31e73ec3-b268-5ec6-b82c-216e481fac3d)
Chapter Twelve (#ue435d257-8b27-5562-b1b5-347eafc890eb)
Chapter Thirteen (#u40bbb0e1-6ad4-56f6-85fe-37ec7a16693d)
Chapter Fourteen (#u358bb99d-b9e8-5c5b-9104-b3f8f222e994)
Chapter Fifteen (#uce0faba2-9a09-5b69-8688-c51b627c1025)
Chapter Sixteen (#ub7c401aa-94cc-51dd-a4bd-ecc7ee33b46b)
Chapter Seventeen (#u585a99e9-969b-5732-90a6-d49880b1a894)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Part Two: Deceptions Revealed (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Part Three: Women Warriors (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Part Four: Angels in Disguise (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixty (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading (#litres_trial_promo)
Books by Barbara Taylor Bradford (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHARACTERS (#ubce4fe8e-dbfc-5ec5-a2dc-e33a22ffab19)
ABOVE THE STAIRS
THE INGHAMS IN 1926
Charles Ingham, 6th Earl of Mowbray, aged 57. Owner and custodian of Cavendon Hall. Referred to as Lord Mowbray.
Felicity Ingham, his ex-wife, the former Countess of Mowbray, aged 56. An heiress in her own right through her late father, an industrialist. Now remarried to Lawrence Pierce, a noted surgeon.
THE CHILDREN OF THE EARL AND FORMER COUNTESS
Miles Ingham, heir to the earldom, aged 27. He is known as the Honourable Miles Ingham, lives at Cavendon and is learning to run the estate. Married to Clarissa Meldrew.
Lady Diedre Ingham, eldest daughter, aged 33, living in London. She works at the War Office. Single.
Lady Daphne Ingham Stanton, second daughter, aged 30. She is married to Hugo Ingham Stanton. They live in the South Wing of Cavendon with their five children.
Lady DeLacy Ingham, third daughter, aged 25, living in London. Divorced from Simon Powers, and has reverted to her maiden name.
Lady Dulcie Ingham, fourth daughter, aged 18. She lives at Cavendon.
The four girls are still referred to affectionately as the four Dees by the staff.
The children of Lady Daphne and Mr Hugo Stanton are Alicia, aged 12; Charles, aged 8½; the twins, Thomas and Andrew, aged 5, and Annabel, aged 2.
OTHER INGHAMS
Lady Lavinia Ingham Lawson, sister of the Earl, aged 53. She lives at Skelldale House, on the estate, when in Yorkshire. She is mostly in London. She is now widowed. She was married to John Edward Lawson, known as Jack.
Lady Vanessa Ingham, the spinster sister of the Earl, aged 47, who has her own private suite of rooms at Cavendon, which she uses when in Yorkshire. She spends most of her time in London.
Lady Gwendolyn Ingham Baildon, the widowed aunt of the Earl, aged 86, who resides at Little Skell Manor on the estate. She was married to the late Paul Baildon.
The Honourable Hugo Ingham Stanton, first cousin of the Earl, aged 45. He is the nephew of Lady Gwendolyn, the sister of his late mother, Lady Evelyne Ingham Stanton. He is married to Lady Daphne.
BETWEEN STAIRS
THE SECOND FAMILY: THE SWANNS
The Swann family has been in service to the Ingham family for over one hundred and seventy years. Consequently, their lives have been intertwined in many different ways. Generations of Swanns have lived in Little Skell village, adjoining Cavendon Park, and still do. The present-day Swanns are as devoted and loyal to the Inghams as their forebears were, and would defend any member of the family with their lives. The Inghams trust them implicitly, and vice versa.
THE SWANNS IN 1926
Walter Swann, valet to the Earl, aged 48. Head of the Swann family.
Alice Swann, his wife, aged 45. A clever seamstress who takes care of the clothes and makes outfits for Lady Daphne and her daughters.
Harry, son, aged 28. A former apprentice landscape gardener at Cavendon Hall; he is now learning estate management and works with Miles Ingham.
Cecily, daughter, aged 25. She lives and works in London, where she has become a famous fashion designer, with three shops.
OTHER SWANNS
Percy, younger brother of Walter, aged 45. Head gamekeeper at Cavendon.
Edna, wife of Percy, aged 46. Does occasional work at Cavendon.
Joe, their son, aged 25. Works with his father as a gamekeeper.
Bill, first cousin of Walter, aged 40. Head landscape gardener at Cavendon. He is widowed.
Ted, first cousin of Walter, aged 51. Head of interior maintenance and carpentry at Cavendon. Widowed.
Paul, son of Ted, aged 27, working with his father as an interior designer and carpenter at Cavendon.
Eric, brother of Ted, first cousin of Walter, aged 46. Butler at the London house of Lord Mowbray. Single.
Laura, sister of Ted, first cousin of Walter, aged 39. Housekeeper at the London house of Lord Mowbray. Single.
Charlotte, aunt of Walter and Percy, aged 58. Retired from service at Cavendon. Charlotte is the matriarch of the Swann family. She is treated with great respect by everyone, and with a certain deference by the Inghams. Charlotte was the secretary and personal assistant to David Ingham, the 5th Earl, until his death.
Dorothy Pinkerton, née Swann, aged 43, cousin of Charlotte and the Swanns. She lives in London and is married to Howard Pinkerton, a Scotland Yard detective. She works with Cecily at Cecily Swann Couture.
CHARACTERS BELOW STAIRS
Mr Henry Hanson, Butler
Mrs Agnes Thwaites, Housekeeper
Miss Susie Jackson, Cook (niece of Nell, who has retired)
Mr Gordon Lane, Head footman
Mr Ian Melrose, Second footman
Miss Jessie Phelps, Head housemaid
Miss Pam Willis, Second housemaid
Miss Connie Layton, Third housemaid
Mr Tim Hartley, Chauffeur
OTHER EMPLOYEES
Miss Margaret Cotton, the nanny for Lady Daphne’s children, usually addressed as Nanny or Nan.
Miss Nancy Pettigrew, the governess, usually addressed as Miss Pettigrew. The governess is not at Cavendon in the summer. The children are not in school.
THE OUTDOOR WORKERS
A stately home such as Cavendon Hall, with thousands of acres of land, and a huge grouse moor, employs local people. This is its purpose for being, as well as providing a private home for a great family. It offers employment to the local villagers, and also land for local tenant farmers. The villages surrounding Cavendon were built by various earls of Mowbray to provide housing for their workers; churches and schools were also built, as well as post offices and small shops at later dates. The villages around Cavendon are Little Skell, Mowbray and High Clough.
There are a number of outside workers: a head gamekeeper and five additional gamekeepers; beaters and flankers who work when the grouse season starts and the Guns arrive at Cavendon to shoot. Other outdoor workers include woodsmen, who take care of the surrounding woods for shooting in the lowlands at certain times of the year. The gardens are cared for by a head landscape gardener, and five other gardeners working under him.
The grouse season starts in August, on the Glorious Twelfth, as it is called. It finishes in December. The partridge season begins in September. Duck and wild fowl are shot at this time. Pheasant shooting starts on 1 November and goes on until December. The men who come to shoot are usually aristocrats, and always referred to as the Guns, i.e., the men using the gun.
PART ONE (#ubce4fe8e-dbfc-5ec5-a2dc-e33a22ffab19)
A Family Reunion (#ubce4fe8e-dbfc-5ec5-a2dc-e33a22ffab19)
July 1926
‘The little world of childhood with its familiar surroundings is a model of the greater world. The more intensively the family has stamped its character upon the child, the more it will tend to feel and see its earlier miniature world again in the bigger world of adult life.’
Carl Jung, The Theory of Psychoanalysis (1913)
ONE (#ubce4fe8e-dbfc-5ec5-a2dc-e33a22ffab19)
Cecily Swann knew it well, this path. She had walked it all of her life, and it was an old familiar. Lifting her head, she looked up at the grand house towering above her on top of the hill. Cavendon Hall. One of the great stately homes of England, it was the finest of all in Yorkshire.
The house was her destination this morning, as it had been so often when she was growing up. Her parents and her brother Harry lived in Little Skell village, at the edge of Cavendon Park, just as their ancestors had done. For over one hundred and seventy years, in fact.
It was a lovely Friday morning in the middle of July, and there was no hint of rain today. The sunshine streamed down, bathing the house in that crystalline northern light which gave the exterior its soft, peculiar sheen at different times of day.
Cecily glanced about as she walked on. She had half expected to see Genevra loitering here. But there was no sign of the gypsy girl. The Romany wagons were visible on the hill at the far end of the fields; Genevra’s family still lived on the 6th Earl’s land – that was a given. He had always permitted it; she supposed they would stay there forever.
But so much else had changed. Cavendon Hall looked the same, but it wasn’t what it used to be. It was a different place; in fact, many things were different now. The Great War had changed everything. And everyone. As her father, Walter, was forever saying, the good old days were over, and nothing would ever be the same again. And his words were only too true.
Thankfully, her father and her brother had come back safely from the Great War, but Guy Ingham, the heir to the Mowbray earldom, had not. He had died for his country fighting in France, and was buried there alongside his comrades in arms.
They had all mourned him, every person in the three villages around Cavendon, as well as his family. Not because he was the heir, but because he had been one of the nicest of young men. Now it was Miles who would one day inherit the earldom and everything that this entailed.
Miles Ingham.
Her heart tightened at the thought of him. He had been her constant companion throughout her childhood, her best friend and later her sweetheart. She had loved him with all of her being; she still did. And he had told her many times that he felt the same, and that one day they would be married. But that had not happened.
Miles had been forced to marry another girl. A suitable girl. Clarissa Meldrew, the daughter of Lord Meldrew. The right kind of girl, who would give Miles an aristocratic heir. That was the way it was with the gentry: future heirs dominated their lives and their destinies.
Cecily came to a stop as a sudden thought struck her. After a moment, she veered to her left and headed in the direction of the rose garden. She needed a few moments to think, and anyway she was too early for her meeting.
A few seconds later, she was pulling open the heavy oak door and going down the steps. It was a fragrant spot, this old walled garden, filled with the scent of late-blooming roses. She breathed in the heady smell as she sat down on a wrought-iron garden seat. This spot had always been a haven of peace and beauty.
Holding herself completely still, she closed her eyes, wondering why she had agreed to do this – to help Miles manage the events planned by the Earl for the family reunion. It was probably the most stupid thing she had ever done in her life.
Only if you are stupid, she told herself. Obviously Aunt Charlotte thinks you are capable of handling a difficult situation, or she wouldn’t have asked you to help out.
Her aunt’s voice echoed in her mind as she went back to the discussion they’d had a week ago. She remembered her aunt’s words very well. ‘Lady Daphne is the only one capable of managing the weekend with Miles, but she has so much on her hands, what with running Cavendon and five children underfoot. I personally would appreciate it if you would help him, Ceci.’
She thought now of the way she had tried to wriggle out of it, not liking the idea at all. She had muttered something about one of his other sisters being better at that job. But her aunt had batted her objections away with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘There might be difficulties, Ceci, and we need someone strong like you. Someone who can be tough, if needs be.’
Well, she could be tough, she knew that. But mostly she would have to be tough with herself. And with Miles Ingham.
She had not had a conversation with him for the last six years. They’d spoken, the odd times they had run into each other, here at Cavendon, or waved, but that was all. Six years ago she had vowed never to let him near her again, and her aunt had nodded her approval when she had confided in Charlotte.
‘I’ll walk alone and devote myself to my career as a fashion designer,’ Cecily had said, and Charlotte had looked pleased, and relieved. Unexpectedly, Charlotte had asked her to help Miles out now, and it puzzled Cecily. Actually she had no choice.
Cecily sighed, and sat up straighter. She owed Charlotte Swann everything. It was her aunt who had backed her fashion business, presented her with her first shop in the Burlington Arcade, made her career possible. And it was Charlotte’s money which had originally funded the venture. They became business partners, and they still were, and worked extremely well together.
She trusts me to handle myself correctly, Cecily decided. She knows I won’t succumb to his charms, become involved with him on a personal level. She understands that the pain he caused me runs far too deep. Besides, she’s fully aware I’m devoted to my business, that it’s my life.
Standing up, Cecily walked out of the rose garden, and went on up the hill towards the house. She felt better. She could handle Miles Ingham. She wasn’t afraid of him. She wasn’t afraid of anyone, for that matter.
In the past six years she had learned to be truly independent, to stand on her own two feet, and to make her own decisions. Furthermore, she was a big success. Women loved her clothes; they bought them by the cartload. And not only in London, but in America as well. Already, she had made two trips to New York, and her name was well known on both sides of the Atlantic.
Miles had his problems. And so did Cavendon.
Her future was full of brightness and challenge, and – with a little luck – even more success. Miles Ingham was part of the past. Her eyes were focused on the future.
She would help him out this weekend, and then she would go back to London and get on with her work, and leave Miles to his own devices. There was no place in her life for him. She would never forget that day, six years ago, when he had told her he was getting married to another woman. He had broken her heart, and she would never forgive him.
TWO (#ubce4fe8e-dbfc-5ec5-a2dc-e33a22ffab19)
Miles Ingham bent down, picked up the small pieces of cork, and placed them on the mantelshelf, next to the carriage clock. Only Miss Charlotte knew how to properly wedge them behind the two horse paintings by George Stubbs, so that they would not slip. She had been doing it for years, and no one else had managed to master the technique.
Turning, he walked over to his father’s desk and sat down, staring at the list he had made earlier. All were points he wanted to take up with Cecily, regarding the next few days.
Cecily Swann.
He longed to see her, to talk to her, to just be near her. And yet, at the same time, he dreaded it. For years she had been merely civil to him whenever they ran into each other here at Cavendon.
Her demeanour had been so remote, so cold, he had been unable to breach those icy walls she had erected around herself. She had frozen him out, and he fully understood why. He had hurt her immeasurably, and the hurt had never healed. It was an open wound.
This now presented a problem, since they did have to be cordial with each other for several days in order to carry off this unusual family reunion. He had realized, the other day, that he must come up with a modus operandi, and it had to be one she found acceptable.
Sighing to himself, he jumped up, suddenly overcome by nerves. He paced up and down the library, attempting to get a grip on his flaring emotions. She would be arriving at any moment, and he had no words ready, nothing formulated in his mind, no greeting prepared for her. He was also at a loss about the days ahead, and how they would manage them.
There had been a moment last week when he’d begun to wish his father hadn’t decided to invite the family home for a weekend visit.
On the other hand, there hadn’t been any parties or get-togethers at Cavendon for the longest time. Nothing to celebrate, what with the family’s money problems, the loss in the Great War of men who had worked their land, the scandal surrounding his mother, which they all tried to ignore. And then there was DeLacy’s worrying depression about her divorce, not to mention Hugo’s huge financial losses on the New York Stock Exchange.
And what a mess his own life was. Miles was acutely aware that he had no life, actually. He had grown to detest Clarissa, who, he had swiftly understood, was dense beyond words, a spendthrift whose only conversation was about clothes, cosmetics and jewels. All of which bored him. And she was a gossip. She loved to talk about her friends, and she wasn’t always nice about them. He despised her for her mean comments about other women.
He had also come to dislike her father, Lord Meldrew. He overindulged his only child, giving Clarissa anything her heart desired. That in itself had created a rift between them; he loathed spoiled women, and she was particularly greedy.
Miles had long accepted that he was saddled with a dud of a wife; and, worst of all, one who had been unable to conceive.
He was still without that much-longed-for heir. Not only had she proved to be barren but, much to his dismay, she had soon developed an aversion to Cavendon Hall, and would not come to Yorkshire.
‘Not a country girl at heart,’ she had informed him, fairly early on in their marriage. What marriage? he now wondered, and strode over to the window, gazing out across the terrace, looking towards the park.
A moment later he stiffened. Cecily was coming up the terrace steps and every thought in his head fled. He felt as if he had a tight band around his chest, and for a moment he could hardly breathe. Then he swallowed, took firm hold of his emotions, and went to open the terrace doors.
He was stunned by her loveliness as she came towards him: the richness of her luxuriant hair with its russet lights, her ivory skin, her smoky-grey lavender eyes, which told the world she was a Swann born and bred. They all had those eyes.
Cecily was wearing a white dress, trimmed and belted in navy blue, and yet it was loose, casual, the silk skirt floating around her long legs.
Finding his voice, he said, ‘Hello, Cecily.’ His heart was pounding in his chest and he was genuinely surprised that his voice wasn’t shaking. To his relief, he sounded quite normal. ‘Thank you for coming.’
She simply nodded, and took hold of his outstretched hand. Shaking it, she dropped it instantly, and stepped back. Giving him a cool glance, she murmured, ‘I hope this weather lasts for the next few days.’ Her voice was soft, calm.
‘Yes, so do I,’ he agreed, and was then unexpectedly tongue-tied. Putting one hand under her elbow, he ushered her across the terrace, into the library, and closed the door behind them.
Cecily immediately gravitated to the fireplace, as almost everyone usually did. This room was always cold, even in the summer months.
‘I want to apologize,’ Miles announced, as he quickly followed her across the room.
‘What for?’ she asked a little sharply.
‘Being remiss … never congratulating you over the last six years. For your fantastic success as a fashion designer, I mean. You’ve done so well, wonderfully well, and I want you to know how thrilled I am about that. And I’m very proud of you.’ Miles cleared his throat, added, ‘I did attempt to write to you, but every time I started a letter, I threw it away. I couldn’t quite get the words right. And, anyway, I thought a letter from me might annoy you.’
‘Yes, it might have done, under the circumstances.’
Cecily sat down in a chair near the fire. As she settled herself, straightening the skirt of her dress, she couldn’t help thinking that Miles didn’t look well. He had lost weight, and there was a curious gauntness about him, as well as an aura of sadness. This was particularly apparent in his blue eyes, and she felt for him, knew he’d had a hard time.
Following her lead, he went over to the sofa and seated himself opposite her. In a low voice, he said, ‘I have a list of things I’d like to go over with you, about Saturday and Sunday, but first I need to discuss something else.’
Cecily’s eyes were focused on him, and she nodded. ‘Please, tell me what’s on your mind.’
‘It’s about our attitude towards one another. We’ve been civil when we’ve run into each other over the years. But that’s all. And I do understand why. However, it’s going to be a bit awkward for the next few days, if we’re unfriendly, especially in front of the family. Don’t you agree?’
‘Yes. It’s occurred to me that my antagonism towards you could present a problem, and I suppose I must mend my ways.’
‘And so must I, Cecily.’ A faint smile flickered on his mouth, and he added, ‘It struck me yesterday that we might be able to slip back into the past; maybe we could behave like we did then. We had fun, we were happy.’
When she remained silent, he said, ‘Well, we did have fun, and we were happy.’
‘That’s true, but I hope you don’t think that I’m going to go up to the attics with you and revisit our “love nest”, as you used to call it.’
She had said this so solemnly, and her face was so serious, Miles burst out laughing, surprising himself; it was the first time he had laughed in months. ‘Of course not,’ he spluttered. After a moment, he contained his hilarity. ‘I’m speaking about our demeanour,’ he explained.
Cecily had managed to remain poker-faced, although there had been a moment when she had almost laughed with him. But she wasn’t going to give him an inch. Not ever.
Eventually, she answered, ‘I think if we try to erase the last few years, and remember our youthful friendship, it will work. I will try hard, because we must make this a perfect celebration for Lord Mowbray.’
‘Thank you, Ceci, I knew you’d see the sense of striking a bargain.’
‘More like a compromise, I think, Miles,’ she answered stiffly.
Ignoring her iciness, he shifted slightly on the sofa, and went on, ‘There is just one thing I want to explain, something you should know.’
His voice had changed, was now extremely serious, and she glanced at him swiftly. Knowing him as intimately as she did, she was positive he was about to say something of genuine importance.
‘Tell me then.’ Her gaze was level, steady, as she looked across at him.
‘I’m going to London next week. I haven’t been for ages, and I shall ask Clarissa for a divorce.’
Cecily had not anticipated anything like this, and she was shocked. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, ‘But what will the Earl say?’
‘Papa knows the marriage hasn’t worked. We are not compatible in any way. Clarissa hates the country; furthermore, she has never conceived. She hasn’t given me an heir, and this troubles my father as much as it has upset me. And it won’t happen now, because we have been separated for some time.’
When she made no response, he said, ‘But then you know that. Because you’re a Swann, and the Swanns know everything about the Inghams.’
‘Not always everything,’ she remarked. ‘But yes, it’s true, I did know that your marriage was not happy, Miles. Great-Aunt Charlotte told me. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.’
‘So am I,’ he mumbled. ‘In view of the sacrifices I made.’
‘I know,’ was all she said, thinking about the sacrifices she had been forced to make as well. But this was best left unsaid.
Miles continued, ‘I shall make Clarissa a generous offer – alimony, the house in Kensington my father gave us for a wedding present. But I’m not at all sure she’ll agree to a divorce.’
A frown brought Cecily’s brows together, and she asked in a puzzled voice, ‘But why not? She’s young enough, and pretty; she could get married again. And consider what she would bring to a new marriage. Alimony, and a lovely house.’
‘The alimony would cease if she remarried, but she would keep the house. However there’s a problem, you see.’
‘What is it?’
‘She wants to have a title, to be a countess, and so she’ll try to cling on. When Papa had his heart attack last year, there were moments when I thought she was positively gleeful, anxiously waiting for him to pop off and clear the way for me. And for her, of course.’
‘But how awful that is, Miles! Horrid.’ Cecily sounded aghast.
‘You’re telling me! It was preposterous, especially since we were separated by then. But I shall win, I’m quite certain. Papa has spoken to his solicitor, and the way through this is for me to take the blame, provide evidence of adultery, so that she can sue me for divorce. If she won’t agree to that, I might well have to divorce her. According to Mr Paulson, Papa’s solicitor, I do have grounds. Not of adultery, but of abandonment. You see, she packed all of her things and left me here at Cavendon. In other words, she left the marital home.’
Cecily leaned back in the chair, thinking of the last six years. For Miles they had been wasted. But for her they had been productive, because she had started her fashion business, and it was thriving, making money.
‘Penny for your thoughts,’ Miles said quietly, watching her carefully.
‘I was thinking of all the years you lost,’ she murmured, as honest as usual.
‘I know. On the other hand, I did learn a lot about agriculture, livestock, the land, the grouse moor, running the estate. And I keep on learning.’ He leaned forward and looked at her intently. ‘When I’m finally free, divorced from Clarissa, would there be any chance for me?’
‘What do you mean exactly?’ she asked, her mouth suddenly dry, a feeling of alarm running through her.
‘You know very well what I mean. But I’ll spell it out, clarify it. Is there a chance for me with you, Ceci?’
Cecily was not surprised by this question, because she knew he still loved her, just as she loved him. Nothing would ever change their feelings. There would never be anyone else for her, and she knew he felt the same way. But he was different in one thing. He was the heir to an earldom, and his father would most decidedly want an aristocrat for a new daughter-in-law. Not an ordinary girl like her. DeLacy had pointed that out to her six years ago, when she had blurted out that Miles was getting engaged to an aristocrat. ‘He could never marry an ordinary girl like you,’ DeLacy had said, and she had never forgotten those words.
‘You’re not answering me,’ Miles said, his blue eyes suddenly filled with love for her. That awful sadness was now expunged.
The way he was gazing at her, his face full of yearning, touched her deeply. His expression was signalling so much to her, and it reflected what she had felt for years. She said slowly, ‘When I was twelve, you proposed to me and I accepted. But we were too young. When I was eighteen you proposed again and I accepted. However, you married another woman. What are you saying to me now, Miles? Third time lucky?’ An eyebrow lifted quizzically.
He nodded, and a smile broke through his gravity. ‘Yes, third time lucky indeed! So you will marry me when I am divorced?’ He sounded excited, and his voice was lighter, suddenly younger.
‘I don’t know,’ she replied. ‘Actually, I don’t think so. I’ve changed in many ways, and so have you.’ She paused, took a deep breath. ‘But the situation hasn’t. I’m still an ordinary girl. I can’t make that kind of commitment to you now, Miles, nor should you to me.’
‘You still love me, Cecily Swann. Just as much as I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you, and you know that.’ He sat back, a reflective look crossing his face, and then he said in a low, tender voice, ‘We belong to each other, and we have since we were children.’
She was silent, her face wiped clean of all expression. But inside her heart clenched. She wanted to say yes to him, to tell him she did belong to him, but she did not dare. She could not expose herself to him. Because it was his father, the Earl of Mowbray, who would ultimately have the final word in the end, not Miles.
Almost as if he had read her mind, Miles announced, ‘First things first, Ceci. I must get my freedom, and then we will talk again and sort everything out. Will you agree to that?’
Cecily could only nod.
Miles said, ‘Now, let’s get down to the business of the next few days, the events. This is what I thought we should do about Saturday evening.’
He began to outline the initial plans, but inwardly he smiled. He was going to have Cecily for himself, whatever she believed. The Ingham men and the Swann women were irresistible to each other, and he and she were no exception. It was meant to be.
THREE (#ulink_c8117d41-4f72-5bd0-a6e2-ce04a422ac77)
It was a wonder, this garden, with its low privet hedges in front of the raised banks of glorious flowers. So beautiful, in fact, it took her breath away.
A smile of pleasure crossed Charlotte Swann’s face, and she felt a rush of pride. Her great-nephew, Harry, had created this imaginative effect in the pale green sitting room of the South Wing.
It reminded her of the indoor garden she herself had designed for this same room, some years before. Thirteen years, to be exact, and she had built it for the main summer event that year, the annual supper dance, to which the aristocracy of the county was invited.
The evening had been memorable in every way, and Lady Daphne had stunned everyone with her incomparable beauty, wearing a gown of shimmering blue-green beads the colour of the sea. Everyone had talked about it for weeks, and Charlotte had never forgotten how she’d looked.
Her mind still on Harry, Charlotte suddenly thought what a pity it was he’d had a change of heart. He was such a gifted gardener, with a great eye for form and colour, and his gardens outside were works of art, in her opinion.
Unfortunately, he had lost interest in being a landscape gardener. Instead he wanted to be an estate manager, relishing the idea of working with Miles and learning from Alex Cope, who had replaced Jim Waters as estate manager at Cavendon two years ago.
Harry’s rebellion had taken place at the beginning of the year, and it had shaken his father, Walter, who had felt betrayed when he realized his son was contemplating leaving Cavendon.
His mother, Alice, hadn’t been quite so surprised. She had known from the moment Harry had returned from the Great War that he had been changed considerably, affected by the brutality and wholesale killing he had witnessed at the front.
All the returning soldiers had been changed by their experiences, even her husband. While Walter was more contemplative, her son had acquired an independent attitude, become quite ambitious for himself; he felt he was owed something by society.
It was Cecily who had asked Charlotte to intervene, and she had. It had taken only a few words with Lord Mowbray, and then Alex Cope, for her to help Harry up the Cavendon ladder.
‘Is it all right, then?’
Charlotte jumped, startled at the sound of Harry’s voice. She swung her head. He was leaning casually against the door frame, a quizzical look on his face.
‘More than all right,’ she answered. ‘It’s beautiful. Harry, you’ve outdone yourself.’
‘I think I inherited what bit of talent I have from you, Aunt Charlotte.’
‘Oh, you’re a much better gardener than I am, a true professional, and it was good of you to take the time and trouble to create it. Thank you, Harry.’
‘It was my pleasure, and my way of saying thank you to you for helping to sort things out with Dad,’ he answered, and strolled into the room. ‘I’d like to ask you something …’ He stopped, became hesitant, as if changing his mind. He let his sentence trail off, stood silently next to her chair, obviously at a loss.
She looked up at him, thinking what a handsome young man he was. At twenty-eight he was tall, like his father, and had inherited the striking Swann looks, his features chiselled, the thick hair the same russet brown as hers. He even had her greyish eyes with that odd tint of lavender peculiar to the Swanns.
‘Is there something wrong, Harry?’ she asked. ‘You seem worried.’
‘Not worried, just curious, I suppose. I’ve been wondering why you asked Ceci to help Miles? With the upcoming events tomorrow, and on Sunday. Couldn’t he have teamed up with one of his sisters?’
She shook her head. ‘Daphne is too busy, Dulcie too young, DeLacy too depressed. As for Diedre, she’s far too intellectual for such mundane matters like arranging events for a family get-together. Ceci was my only choice, because I think he needs back-up.’
‘Poor Miles. I feel sorry for him, working with my sister. He’ll get frostbite.’
Charlotte laughed, shaking her head. Harry’s tone had a pithy edge, but then he always had an appropriate retort on the tip of his tongue.
‘I did have another reason though,’ Charlotte now volunteered.
‘I thought as much,’ Harry answered. ‘He’s so worn out and damaged. Miles needs some kindness. And Ceci will be kind to him, even though I know that deep down she’s still angry.’
Charlotte eyed Harry, thinking how astute he was at times. But then he knew his sister well, and he and Miles had been friends since boyhood, had grown up here.
‘It did strike me I might be playing a dangerous game, getting them together,’ she said. ‘But then I realized they are both adults. Grown up enough to handle themselves, and their problems.’
‘I agree.’ He moved away, went to look at the flower beds, took a dead head off a bloom, put it in his pocket. Without looking at his aunt, he murmured, ‘You’re expecting some sort of trouble, aren’t you?’
‘To be honest, I’m not sure. A lot of mutterings and dire warnings perhaps, nothing we can’t cope with. On the other hand, I thought it better to be prepared. And there’s nobody like Cecily, when it comes to taking control of a difficult situation. Also, she can be neutral, very calming and rational. I’ve always told her she would’ve made a good diplomat – she’s a really good negotiator, you know.’
‘Who’s a good negotiator?’ Lady Dulcie asked from the doorway, and walked into the room, looking beautiful in a primrose-yellow summer dress. At eighteen she was very much the same person she had been as a child: outspoken, with a quick, facile tongue. She was no longer afraid of Diedre, but cautious around her eldest sister, and automatically wary. Self-confident, sure of herself socially, she had a superior intelligence.
To Dulcie, Charlotte was like a mother; she had brought her up, alongside Nanny Clarice, and with Daphne’s help. These three women had been the biggest influences in her life.
Gliding across the room, her face filled with smiles, Dulcie went straight into Charlotte’s outstretched arms. The two women hugged, and then stepped apart.
Charlotte said, ‘It’s lovely to see you, I’m so glad you’re back. I’ve missed you. London was nice though, wasn’t it?’
‘It was, Miss Charlotte, and I really enjoyed staying with Aunt Vanessa. She helped me so much with my art history studies, but I’m very happy to be home.’ Glancing at Harry, whose eyes had never left her, she blushed slightly as she said, ‘Hello, Harry, it’s nice to see you.’
He inclined his head, his face also full of happiness. ‘Welcome back, Lady Dulcie,’ was all he managed to get out. Inevitably, he became tongue-tied when the Earl’s youngest daughter was present. She was so beautiful, he became lightheaded whenever he was in her company. He adored her, secretly yearning to know her better.
Charlotte took charge. ‘Look at the beautiful garden Harry’s created, Lady Dulcie. For the dinner tomorrow evening. It’s superb, isn’t it?’
‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ Dulcie answered. Turning to Harry, she added, ‘Congratulations, you’re a true artist.’ Then she laughed. ‘I remember now, I did see one like it years ago, when I was about five. I barged in here, all covered in chocolate, just before the big dance was about to start.’
Charlotte smiled, remembering this incident herself. She hadn’t been present, but she had certainly heard all about it the next day.
‘Apparently none of the ladies was able to come near you, since you were covered in that chocolate. At least, so I was told. They were afraid of the chocolate getting on their gowns.’
Dulcie grinned, then asked, ‘Where’s Daphne? Do you know, Miss Charlotte? I haven’t been able to find her.’
‘I’m sure she’ll be back in the conservatory by now. She told me she was going there to check on all her seating plans.’
‘Then I shall go there. Once you’ve told me who the good negotiator is.’
‘Why Cecily, of course,’ Charlotte answered.
FOUR (#ulink_a53f7b22-6c7f-58f7-825a-3ad15ff575cb)
‘Welcome back, darling,’ Daphne said, as Dulcie rushed across the conservatory, and flung her arms around her favourite sister. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she added, and then held Dulcie away, staring at her intently. ‘More beautiful than ever,’ she pronounced.
‘No, no, no, you’re the renowned beauty of this family,’ Dulcie exclaimed, and went on swiftly, ‘I couldn’t get here quickly enough, I’ve so much to tell you. And mostly about Felicity.’
Daphne nodded, and guided Dulcie over to the wicker loveseat, where they sat down. Ever since their mother had left Cavendon, Dulcie only ever referred to her as Felicity, never Mama. Sometimes she even referred to her as ‘that woman who abandoned me’, and had a string of ridiculous and rather nasty nicknames for her.
Daphne understood why. Felicity had been too preoccupied with her sister’s fatal illness, and her own personal problems, to pay too much attention to Dulcie when she was little, and the child had never forgiven her. Now that she was a young woman, that animosity still lingered.
Settling herself on the loveseat, Daphne said, ‘So, tell me everything, I’m all ears.’
‘I’ve been informed that Felicity is going to throw out Lawrence Pierce, that knife-wielding maniacal quack – and, by the way, that’s not the only thing he wields. From what I understand, he’s quite the womanizer, wielding his manhood everywhere.’
Dulcie sat back next to her sister and waited for a reaction, her eyes fixed on Daphne’s face.
Daphne burst out laughing, as always genuinely amused by Dulcie’s extraordinary use of language. Their father constantly said she had a unique way with words and should have been a writer, and Daphne thought the same thing.
‘Who told you this?’
‘Margaret Atholl’s mother,’ Dulcie answered. ‘Lady Dunham. She also said there’s a rumour that the marriage is unhappy, and Felicity is planning to return to Cavendon. She won’t come back, will she, Daphers? I couldn’t bear to have that greedy, man-hungry creature here. Papa wouldn’t fall for her again, would he?’
Shaking her head, the laughter bubbling inside her, Daphne answered, ‘She won’t even attempt it. And certainly Father is not interested in her one iota. This is just idle gossip you’ve heard. However, perhaps she is going to throw the surgeon out. I, too, have heard stories about his behaviour.’
‘A flagrant and very experienced adulterer, who thinks he’s the Don Juan of all Don Juans, impossible to resist. And very conceited about his … hidden charms, shall we say?’
Daphne couldn’t help laughing again, and then she finally managed to say, ‘All surgeons think they’re God, according to Diedre. Because they save lives, I suppose.’
‘Or ruin them,’ Dulcie shot back. There was a moment of silence, and then Dulcie moved closer, confided, ‘I think Aunt Vanessa might marry her artist friend. He’s awfully nice, by the way, and he’s from the very proper Barnard family, and well connected. He was very kind to me, helping me with my art history course.’
Daphne was taken by surprise and gave Dulcie a penetrating look. ‘Are you sure there’s an engagement in the wind?’
‘I’m not absolutely certain, but it looks like it to me. He practically lives at her house, and they’re never apart. They sort of … drool over each other.’
‘Papa doesn’t know. He would have told me. But then Aunt Vanessa doesn’t have to report to him, since she’s in her forties and can do whatever she wants.’
‘Gosh, I wouldn’t want to wait so long to get married! Is that too old to have babies, do you think, Daphers?’
‘Perhaps,’ Daphne answered.
Dulcie, who was facing the door, jumped up when she saw her father standing there. He looked furious, and she wondered if he was angry with her. Because she hadn’t gone to see him first.
Daphne also caught sight of him at the entrance to the conservatory, and instantly knew something had happened. The angry stance told her that. What had upset him? He was usually easy-going, genial. She cringed inside, prayed it wasn’t anything to do with the events planned for the next two days.
‘Hello, Papa,’ Dulcie said as soon as their father came to a stop next to them. ‘I just arrived,’ she explained swiftly. ‘I was about to come and say hello to you, Papa.’
A smile flitted across Charles Ingham’s face, and disappeared at once. He brought his youngest daughter into his arms, kissed her cheek. ‘Welcome home, darling. Glad to have you back, and also that you’re early.’ He paused, released her and asked, ‘Have any of your sisters arrived yet?’
‘Not that I know of, I think I’m the first. I wanted to get here in time for afternoon tea.’
He nodded, and then turned his attention to Daphne, who had risen from the loveseat. ‘I need to speak to you about something. Privately. And it is rather urgent.’ He glanced at Dulcie. ‘Would you excuse us, Dulcie, please?’
‘Yes, of course, Papa. I must go up to my room. I left Layton unpacking my suitcases.’
Once they were alone, Daphne gave her father a questioning look. ‘Papa, whatever’s wrong? I can see you’re angry.’ She felt taut, anxious, though she tried to conceal this.
‘I’m angry, upset – and totally baffled. I went down to the lower vaults to get something from one of the safes, and I discovered there are pieces of jewellery missing.’
Daphne couldn’t hide her shock. ‘But how can that be? Only you have the key!’
‘That’s true, and it was in its designated place. I took it, opened the main vault, went to a safe, took out a case, and found a pair of earrings missing. Diamond earrings. I looked in several other cases, and they were empty. I was in shock, Daphne. I couldn’t believe my eyes.’
‘Please, Papa, let’s go down there at once. And we had better check all the jewel cases. Don’t you agree?’
‘I do indeed. I was so upset I just rushed up here without doing that.’
‘Do you think somebody knew where the key was? Took it, went down there – let’s say during the night – and made off with those pieces?’
‘How can I say? Who would know where the main key is kept?’
‘Have you mentioned this to Hanson?’
The Earl shook his head. ‘I came straight up here, looking for you. Let’s go, Daphne, and bring a piece of paper and a pencil with you. We’d better make a list of everything that’s missing. How unfortunate I discovered this now, with all the things we have going on these next few days.’
Although there was a silver vault on the kitchen floor, which contained the pieces used all the time, there were other, older vaults, on the floor below in the lower cellars. These vaults had been built by Humphrey Ingham, the 1st Earl of Mowbray. He had planned them with the architects, when the house was being built in the 1700s. They were cavernous, and not only housed a huge collection of jewellery, but also all the most important and valuable pieces of silver made by the great master silversmiths of the eighteenth century.
As they hurried down the lower staircase, Daphne asked, ‘When was the last time you were in the jewellery vaults, Papa?’
‘Not recently, that’s a certainty. We haven’t been having parties, so no one thought of taking jewels out to wear. I’m puzzled, I truly am, but we must solve this mystery and reclaim the pieces. My father, my grandfather and my great-grandfather always called these vaults our safety net. The pieces were bought for investment purposes, as well as to be worn and shown off. A lot were bought by the 1st Earl when he was a trader in the West Indies and in India. He purchased diamonds from the famous Golconda mines, and those pieces are unique.’
When they arrived at the iron door, Charles unlocked it and stepped inside the huge vault, turning on the light. ‘It’s a good thing my father put electricity in down here, otherwise where would we be today?’
‘Putting it in ourselves,’ Daphne muttered, and followed her father over to one of the larger safes; it sat against a wall at the far end of the vault.
Charles opened the safe and lifted out a worn, red leather case. ‘There were diamond earrings in this. From Cartier. As you can see, it’s empty. This other one held a single strand of diamonds, also from Cartier.’
Daphne nodded, and reached into the safe herself. Her fingers curled around a blue leather box, stamped with gold edging, and as she took it out she said, ‘This is the brooch I wore at my wedding, Papa.’
‘I’m afraid not, darling, that one is empty, too.’
‘I can’t believe it!’ she cried, and lifted the lid. ‘It is empty, and it was one of my favourite pieces. I wore it on my wedding dress, and then later Mama wore it at the dinner we had in January 1914, after Alicia was born—’ Daphne cut herself off, swung to face her father, and cried, ‘I know who took the jewels.’
Charles stared at her, frowning. ‘Are you about to point a finger at your mother?’
‘I most certainly am, Papa! She was the last person seen wearing the diamond bow brooch.’ Placing the empty jewel case on the table that stood in the middle of the room, Daphne looked in the safe again and pulled out two more cases. ‘In here should be a small diamond and ruby tiara, and in this one a matching diamond and ruby bracelet.’
When she opened them, she nodded. ‘Papa, she took these pieces, I know she did. They were her favourites, and so were the Marmaduke pearls. They’re in the other safe, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, they are. We’d best investigate, ascertain what’s missing from there.’
The pearls, dating back to the eighteenth century, were highly valuable, and had been treasured by the Inghams over many years. They were large, had been carefully matched, and were of opera length, long and elegant. The single string was so precious it was hard to evaluate. Daphne had come to believe the pearls, if auctioned, would go for a lot of money.
The box was heavy, and she knew at once the pearls were safe, that they were inside. When she lifted the lid, she nodded, smiled in relief. ‘At least she didn’t grab these, Papa.’
‘I was sure they were here. Pearls have to be taken out from time to time to, sort of … well, be allowed to breathe. And I’ve taken the box upstairs quite frequently for that reason,’ Charles explained.
‘I just know Mama took the other jewels. She knew where the key was, nobody else did, except for me and Miles. And we didn’t steal them. She did it. Your former wife and my mother, and I am going to get every single piece back from her. She’s met her match in me. I won’t rest until the Ingham jewels are back in their rightful place.’
‘How are you going to do that, Daphne? And how are you going to prove she has the jewels? Your mother will never admit she took something she shouldn’t have from Cavendon.’
Daphne was silent for a moment or two, and then she confided, ‘I have an ally. Someone who will help me. I know that for an absolute certainty, Papa.’
He frowned, and a sudden look of concern settled in his blue eyes. ‘And who is that? Who is going to help you?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you, Papa. It’s not that I don’t trust you, because obviously I do. Nonetheless, I simply can’t tell you. At least not now. When I’ve done it, and given the jewels back to you, I will explain everything.’
Charles let out a deep sigh. ‘When are you planning to confront Felicity?’
‘In the next few weeks, when you are away. And I shall force her to hand them over. Obviously we cannot take any steps right now. Nevertheless, I have no worries. She can’t possibly sell them, not ever.’
‘That’s right. We would know immediately if they went on the market.’
‘So, let’s lock these safes, and the vaults, and forget about the missing jewels for the next few days. And I will make the list next week and check every box in all the safes, I promise.’
‘It is a little worrisome,’ Charles murmured, and closed the safe door.
‘I know it is, Papa, but we must not let this problem affect the … family reunion. It wouldn’t be fair, would it?’
‘No, it wouldn’t. As usual, you are making perfect sense, Daphne. Whatever would I do without you?’
FIVE (#ulink_a1aa5054-8789-5f3b-b043-8e243d361034)
There was no doubt in Daphne’s mind that the moment her father had seen the empty cases, he had known at once who had taken the jewels. But he had waited for her to make that very obvious connection.
Daphne sat back in the chair in the conservatory, thinking about her mother, a woman who had changed so drastically she seemed like a stranger. Daphne blamed Lawrence Pierce. It was his fault. He had been a bad influence on Felicity, and no doubt he still was.
She sighed to herself. There was nothing much any of them could do about their mother. She was married to Pierce and, seemingly, he ruled the roost, as Miles so aptly put it. Her mother had created a scandal when she had run off to be with the surgeon in London. But somehow her father and the family had managed to weather it all, and their standing was still intact. Anyway, almost every family they knew were having some problem or other, whether marital or financial.
It seemed almost inconceivable to her that their mother had just pocketed the jewellery, as if it were her own, and gone off to London to join her lover, without giving it another thought. Not about the jewellery she was taking, which was not hers to take. Or the children she was leaving behind. That had happened twelve years ago.
Little Dulcie had been only six, and baby Alicia, her mother’s only grandchild, was not even one year old.
But Felicity’s children had managed. They had not only had each other, they had had their extraordinary father, a very loving man, who was the personification of decency.
And she herself had also had her darling Hugo, and their first child. And all the Swanns. Whatever would they have done without the Swanns? Most especially Charlotte.
Normally, Daphne would have run straight to Charlotte today, to tell her about the missing jewels and ask for her help. But she could not do that. Charlotte had her hands full, and she didn’t need this worry to cope with.
Closing her eyes, Daphne wondered what she could do. She had told her father she had a plan, but she didn’t really. Her only thought was to go to London to confront Felicity.
But her mother would deny having the jewels, wouldn’t she? Obviously that would be Felicity’s only course. And how could Daphne prove otherwise, without ransacking her mother’s house? That wasn’t a possibility, under any circumstance. She did have an ally, as she had told her father. That at least was the truth. But just how much could that ally do?
What she really needed was a reason to invite herself to tea with her mother. But it would have to be a genuinely good reason, because they had all shunned her, off and on, over the years.
‘There you are, my darling,’ Hugo said, interrupting her whirling thoughts as he came striding into the conservatory, at forty-five as handsome as ever. Daphne swung around in her chair, beamed at him.
Bending forward, her husband kissed her on the cheek, and sat down. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you,’ he said. ‘Good news from New York to impart at last! I just heard from Paul Drummond, and he’s finally managed to sell those old factory lofts I bought in downtown Manhattan, near the meatpacking district. And for an excellent price. The money can be put to good use here at Cavendon.’
‘Oh, that’s wonderful news, Hugo!’ Daphne exclaimed, her eyes filling with love for him. He was doing his best to help keep Cavendon afloat, which was drowning in taxes and other problems. She and Hugo stood right behind her father, helping to prop everything up. She was very happy that the strained look had left his face this afternoon.
She now said, ‘Papa will be grateful, and so am I. You do so much, we can never thank you enough.’ She paused for a moment, and then added softly, ‘It will certainly give Papa a lift. He discovered something quite awful today.’
‘What on earth happened?’ Hugo asked, leaning closer. There was a certain kind of disquiet about her, which was not like her at all. She was usually ebullient and positive, whatever problems she faced.
‘Papa went down to the big vault, to get something or other out, and he discovered there were quite a few pieces of jewellery missing. Obviously, he knew at once that my mother had taken them—’
‘Who else?’ Hugo interrupted in a terse voice. ‘Only a Countess of Mowbray knows the hiding place for the key. If I remember correctly, those are the ancient rules followed by the Inghams for generations.’
‘Yes. And the butler always knows where the key is too. But I can assure you, Hanson hasn’t stolen diamond earrings to give to his lady love.’
‘Does he have one?’ Hugo asked, and couldn’t help laughing, despite the gravity of the matter.
Daphne laughed with him, and then went on, ‘I told Papa not to worry about the missing pieces; that whilst he was away I would get them back.’
‘And how do you plan to do that?’ Hugo asked, a brow lifting. ‘Are you going to take Felicity on, and demand their return?’ He shook his head, before saying, in a low tone, ‘You know, you would be accusing her of stealing, since they are actually the property of the Earl of Mowbray, her former husband. I don’t think your mother will take very kindly to that sort of accusation, my darling.’
‘You’re absolutely right, Hugo, she won’t, I’m well aware of that. But I must confront her. I’ve no alternative. And I do have an ally.’
‘Ally or not, I shall come with you to London. I’ll certainly not allow you to go alone under the circumstances. Not to Felicity’s house. Lawrence Pierce may well be there and I don’t want you to end up doing battle with him.’ His glance was long and speculative. ‘And who is your ally, may I ask?’
‘I will tell you, Hugo, but it is in confidence. I didn’t say who it is to Papa.’
‘I shall not tell a single soul, I promise.’
‘It’s Wilson.’
A knowing look crossed Hugo’s face, and he nodded. ‘Of course it’s Wilson. Olive has a very soft spot for you. She always has, and I don’t believe your mother is her favourite at the present time. On the other hand, your mother pays her extremely well, so why would she jeopardize her job?’
‘Because soon she’ll be working for me, as my lady’s maid. In a few months. She finds the situation untenable at Charles Street, and confided in me that she was going to give Mama her notice. And she has. She told Mama she wanted to retire. Felicity made a fuss, didn’t want to let her go, but Olive was adamant, very determined. The point is, when she confided in me, I asked her to come to Cavendon as soon as she was available.’
‘I see,’ Hugo murmured, and sat back in his chair, wondering what Wilson’s wages would be.
As if reading his mind, Daphne swiftly said, ‘You mustn’t worry about the cost, Hugo. I shall pay Wilson myself. I have my trust, and I plan to use some of that to pay her salary.’
‘When does Wilson plan to retire, so to speak? And then come here?’ he asked, thinking that Felicity would not like this turn of events.
‘Not until September. So there’s plenty of time to deal with my mother regarding the jewels.’
‘Whatever your mother says, I know that Wilson will tell you the truth. That is why you’re calling her your ally, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, Hugo. Wilson helps my mother to dress every day. She’s in charge of her clothes, and, presumably, her jewels.’ She stared at him, and added quickly, ‘I know that look on your face, Hugo. You think Wilson should’ve told me before … about the jewels. But you see, Olive Wilson doesn’t know that they’re not Mama’s, not her own personal possessions.’
‘She has no idea they’re family heirlooms?’ he asked, sounding sceptical.
‘How could she? My grandfather was a wealthy industrialist, and I’m quite sure Wilson thinks my mother’s jewels were given to her by him. Or by my father. There’s no way she would know that the jewels Mama wears must remain in the care of the current Earl, that they aren’t actually hers to keep, only on loan.’
‘You make sense, darling,’ Hugo murmured, and stood up. ‘I’d better go back to the annexe for a short while, I’ll see you at teatime.’
‘Oh no, no, Hugo, you must come to the little gathering Papa is having in the library, at three thirty. Just the girls, Miles and you. I know your presence is important to him. You haven’t forgotten, have you?’
‘It did slip my mind, but I shall be there,’ he answered, going over to kiss her cheek.
She moved her head slightly, and, as he bent forward, her face was bathed in the sunlight streaming in through the window. He was instantly struck by her loveliness this afternoon. At thirty, Daphne was at the height of her beauty. Thirteen years, he thought. It didn’t seem possible that they had been married almost that long.
As his lips brushed her cheek, and he squeezed her shoulder affectionately, he thought of their children. Genevra’s prediction had come true … the gypsy girl had foretold that Daphne would bear five children. And she had. They were Inghams through and through, beautiful girls and handsome boys. He loved them dearly and spoiled them atrociously. But why not? Along with Daphne, they were his life.
Walking back to the annexe, Hugo’s thoughts were still with Daphne. What a truly wonderful woman she had become over the years; she had helped her father run Cavendon, and done it well. He smiled inwardly, when he pictured his wife being ‘the general in charge’, as she called herself. Some general, indeed. She was still beautiful, glamorous really, with her abundant golden hair a soft halo around her lovely face. No chic 1920s crop for her; and those glorious eyes were as blue as ever, her skin clear and perfect. I’ve been lucky, so very lucky, he reminded himself. We both have good health and we’re still in love. Miraculous.
SIX (#ulink_3128d5bc-c463-542d-a769-dc54f3b05698)
Diedre stood in the middle of her bedroom, slowly turning, her eyes resting on some of her favourite things. The large antique silver mirror standing on her dressing table, given to her when she was a little girl by her mother, the collection of lace pillows on her bed, made for her by Mrs Alice, and the tortoiseshell and silver brushes, comb and mirror set, a gift from her father for her sixteenth birthday.
All were beloved things, just as this room, which had always been hers, was one of the most special places in the world to her. She had missed it, and as she walked forward to sit down at her small Georgian desk, she felt unexpected tears welling in her eyes.
No one had kept her away from Cavendon; she had just not come, and that was of her own volition. She had not been home because she had been in a state of grief for a long time, and she had not wanted anyone to witness it.
Her grief for the person she had loved the most in her entire life was extremely personal, and therefore absolutely private. And since she was not able to talk about it, at least not coherently, there was no one who could give her comfort. Except, perhaps, her father, who was the most compassionate and sympathetic of men.
Brushing away her tears, Diedre sat down at the mahogany desk and immediately felt truly at ease. Her sister DeLacy loved fancy, frilly bedrooms, whilst she had usually had her eye on the best desks at Cavendon, had often rummaged around in the attics, looking for hidden treasures, mostly amongst the fine antiques.
This was a desk she had chosen years ago, and it became her favourite, with its many drawers, little cubbyholes and polished green leather top.
Unexpectedly, a wave of lovely memories washed over her, and she was surrounded by the past for a few moments. The first diary she had kept, when she was a little girl, had been written here, and her first love letter. She had done her homework at this desk, always diligent about such things; gift cards to her family had been written in this spot, along with Christmas and birthday cards.
Funny how she had liked desks so much when she was younger. She still did. She had three in her flat in Kensington. That was another safe haven. Thankfully, she could afford it, because of the trust from Grandfather Malcolm Wallace. Only she and Daphne had been given these trusts, because Grandfather Wallace, their mother’s father, had died before the other daughters were born.
Leaning back in the chair, Diedre let her eyes wander around the room once more. It was light and spacious, and had a lovely oriel window with a window seat. The pale lavender-grey walls and matching silk draperies created a restful feeling; she felt so comfortable here, and secure.
Now she wished she hadn’t been so silly, that she had come to Cavendon more often in the past few years. After all, she had grown up here. She loved every inch of the house and the parkland, not to mention the gardens. The history of this estate was the history of the Inghams, and therefore part of her.
Her father was a little hurt that she had not been home more often in the last few years. She had suddenly become conscious of this earlier today, when she had first arrived and gone to see him in the library. He had said this lightly, but she had caught a hint of sadness in his voice, and then it had passed. He was clever at hiding his feelings, of course. He would have made a good actor, she often thought.
She had pointed out that she had seen him frequently at the Grosvenor Square house; he had laughed, informed her it wasn’t the same thing.
He had obviously been very happy when she’d arrived this afternoon, most amiable and kind. Well, she was his eldest daughter, his first-born girl. As she was leaving he had reminded her there was to be a small gathering, here in the library later, before tea, and that she must be there.
And she would be. And at tea as well. Diedre hoped she could walk Great-Aunt Gwendolyn home, so that she could talk to her, confide her problem. A small sigh escaped her and she bit her lip, the worrying problem suddenly seeming insurmountable as she thought of it again. Her close friend, Alfie Fennell, had recently told her that someone was out to cause trouble for her at the War Office. He didn’t know who this was, or the reason why.
And neither did she. Diedre loved the work she had been doing during the Great War, and had stayed on after the war had ended, remained in the same division. She had gone to work there in 1914, when she’d been twenty-one. Now she was thirty-three, and it was her life. Without it she would be lost.
Alfie’s news had shaken her up, shocked her, and she had found it hard to believe. She didn’t want to be pushed out; she was frightened by the mere idea of this. It would ruin her life – what was left of it, now her one true love was dead and gone.
When she had finally railed at Alfie and demanded he tell her everything he knew, he did so. And it wasn’t much, as it turned out.
His cousin, Johanna Ellsworth, had been the first person to hear the rumour, and she had told Alfie at once, suggested he alert Diedre, inform her of a possible problem. Johanna was well connected and mixed in political circles.
‘But it is only a rumour,’ Alfie had said last week. ‘Rumours don’t mean much, now do they?’
Diedre thought they did mean something, and said so, adding that many people thought there was no smoke without fire.
Now she focused on the word rumour. Who had started it? And why had they? Was it someone with a grudge against her? A competitor? Did she have an enemy inside the War Office? Was it from inside? Or outside? Was someone trying to scare her? If so, why? Part of her job was asking questions, and now she was asking them of herself, racking her brains. Alfie had hinted she was supposed to have made a bad error in judgement.
There was one thing she did know. All of those who ranked above her, the top brass, were truly satisfied with her work. If a rumour had first been started at the War Office, it was obviously coming from a person in the lower ranks.
Diedre felt certain that her great-aunt would be able to help her, because of her connections in the British government. She knew everyone of any importance, and was considered a genuine friend by many, and if anyone could get to the bottom of this, it was Lady Gwendolyn. And a lot of people were indebted to her.
This aside, her aunt and she were very much alike, and were unusually close. Great-Aunt Gwendolyn was willing to listen to her any time, and to give her considered opinion, as well as good advice. Diedre couldn’t wait to confide in her. It would be a great relief just to unburden herself.
SEVEN (#ulink_49696dc3-3665-5ceb-b9cb-b04d820803a1)
Henry Hanson sat in his office in the downstairs quarters of Cavendon Hall. Leaning back in his comfortable desk chair, the butler reread the menu for the dinner to be held on Saturday evening. It had been created, as usual, by Lady Daphne, and it was perfect as far as he was concerned. But then she couldn’t do much wrong in his eyes; she had long been his favourite.
Lady Daphne had chosen vichyssoise to start, and after the cold soup there would be Dover sole with parsley caper sauce. The main course was rack of baby lamb, fresh green peas from their own vegetable garden, and rösti. These were shredded potatoes, fried in hot oil until they became a crisp potato cake, a Swiss dish introduced into the household by Mr Hugo, which everyone enjoyed.
He glanced at the wine list, written by His Lordship earlier today. He smiled to himself. As usual, Lord Mowbray had chosen his own particular favourites, but the Pouilly-Fuissé was a good choice for the fish, and the Pomerol would be perfect with the main course.
The Earl had made a note on the card, suggesting Hanson select the champagne himself. This would be served with the dessert, and he immediately thought of Dom Pérignon, but he would go to the wine cellar later. Perhaps something else might catch his eye.
Rising, Hanson walked over to the window and looked out at the blue sky. It was a lovely day, very sunny, and he hoped the weather would last for the next few days. But, come to think of it, rain wouldn’t dampen anything, he decided. Happiness didn’t get diluted by rain.
Hanson was excited that the Earl had decided to have this family reunion, the first in six years, and delighted he had picked the middle of July.
It smacked of old times, when all was well in the world and they gave the big summer dances, always a hit with everyone in the county. But the county wasn’t invited tomorrow, just the family.
The last time there had been a reunion was the marriage of Miles to Clarissa Meldrew, a lovely affair, but everything had later gone askew for those two. He felt extremely sorry for Miles, who did not deserve the treatment meted out to him by Miss Meldrew.
Aristocrat my foot, he thought, with a flash of snobbery mingled with anger. Nouveau riche, he muttered to himself, and the title very new, given for some kind of business endeavour. Hardly a match for the heir to the earldom of Mowbray, centuries old, created in the mid 1770s. Miles’s pedigree is bred in the bone, and he’s to the manner born, Hanson thought, and she’s a nobody. Certainly she’s shown that to the world. And with bells on. Sometimes he wondered what that young woman would do next to upset Miles.
Henry Hanson, who was now sixty-four, had worked at Cavendon Hall for thirty-eight years. The stately home and the Ingham family were the be-all and end-all of his life, and he was devoted to both.
He had arrived here in 1888, when he was twenty-six, hired by the famous butler, Geoffrey Swann, who had seen great potential in him. He had started as a junior footman, and risen through the ranks, well trained by his mentor.
When Geoffrey Swann had died rather suddenly, ten years later in 1898, the 5th Earl, David Ingham, had asked him to take over as butler. He had done so with great alacrity, and never looked back. The 5th Earl had trusted him implicitly, and so did his son, Charles Ingham, the 6th Earl. He had proved their faith in him many times.
So much so, the Earl had recently confided in him, explained the real reason for this reunion with his children and the rest of the family. Hanson was sworn to secrecy, and he would tell no one, as the Earl well knew.
Hanson was aware that Lady Daphne and Mr Hugo also knew what this reunion was all about, and no doubt the Swanns did too. They usually were aware of everything, and that was the way it had been forever … since the time of James Swann, liegeman to Humphrey Ingham, who became 1st Earl of Mowbray and built Cavendon Hall.
The Swanns were true blue, in Hanson’s opinion, and he had a lot of time for them. And whatever would the Inghams have done without them? God only knew. He, personally, was grateful for their existence.
Turning away from the window, Hanson decided he would go to the wine cellar, look at the different champagnes. Dom Pérignon was undoubtedly the best, though. He would also look in on Cook, reassure her about Saturday’s dinner. She was a wonderful cook, had inherited the culinary talents of her aunt, Nell Jackson. Tomorrow there would be nineteen people for dinner, and she understood she had to be deft, prompt, swift and on her toes the entire time. She was a capable young woman, but she had told him last week she was concerned about the big dinner. He knew she would be fine, do well, but now he must go and give her a boost.
Hanson went out of his office, thinking about Nell, Susie’s aunt. He had been sorry to see her retire, but after standing on a stone kitchen floor for hours on end, day in, day out, cooking for the Inghams for the best part of her life, she had started to have problems with her legs. They were always swollen and red and painful, and she had backache, which troubled her greatly.
In the end, retirement had been the only solution, but she still lived in Little Skell village and had stayed in touch with them.
There was a lot of the Jackson flair around Cavendon because of Susie. Nell’s niece was like her in every way, not only in her cooking; although she was taller than her aunt, more heavily built, and a comedian at times, making all of them laugh.
‘Mr Hanson! Hello!’ she exclaimed as he strode into the kitchen a moment later. ‘You’ve arrived just in time for a cup of tea. And how about a few sweet biscuits?’
‘Thank you, Cook, I wouldn’t say no,’ he murmured, and sat down. ‘I just wanted to pop in to tell you to stop worrying about tomorrow evening. You’ll manage very well. I have no doubts about you, Susie. And you know the footmen and the maids are well trained, they’ll help you no end.’
She laughed, poured tea into two cups. ‘That’s what Auntie Nell said this morning. I went down to the village to have a word with her, and she was very reassuring.’ Susie smiled at him and added, ‘Can you believe it? She said I was a far better cook than she’d ever been. That I was really a chef and that, if I went to London, I would easily get a job at the Ritz.’
‘I think she’s right,’ Hanson answered, genuinely sincere. Nell had been a good cook, with long experience, but Susie was more inventive and imaginative with food, which put her in a different category altogether.
They sipped their tea and munched on their biscuits in silence for a few seconds, before Susie threw Hanson a questioning look. ‘We’re not looking for any maids, are we, Mr Hanson?’
He stared at her, frowning. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because my friend, Meg Chalmers, has just lost her job. She’s been a maid at Fullerton Manor for quite a few years. Now the family is closing the manor, throwing dustsheets on the furniture and locking the house up. For an indefinite period. They’re going to stay at their London residence. They’ve let all of the staff up here go, and everyone’s down in the dumps and desperately looking for work.’
Hanson felt as if he had just been hit in the stomach with a sledgehammer. He had heard that the Fullertons were in a bad way, but had not realized how bad. Yet another aristocratic family feeling the pinch, going under, he thought, and then said quietly, ‘No, we’re not hiring at the moment, Cook,’ and left it at that.
Whatever anybody else thought, he knew that Cavendon was still safe. Lady Daphne had assured him of that. Nonetheless, he did worry a lot, even though he knew she would never lie to him. Lately there had been a lot of penny-pinching and cuts, and Lady Daphne had discovered a new phrase. ‘We’re on a budget, Hanson.’ When he heard those words he cringed.
But Lady Daphne and Mr Hugo were clever, and now that they were involved in the running of Cavendon there was a great deal of efficiency. Not that His Lordship was inefficient, but his heart attack, which had felled him last year, had slowed him down.
Mr Hugo had insisted on taking matters into his own hands, and so had Miles. They all worked well together, made a good team.
Last year, Miles had turned to him for guidance, and he had been happy to explain certain matters to do with the house. In fact, he had given him what turned out to be a short course on the house, and the many valuable possessions in it. All were exceedingly precious, from the paintings and the silver to the magnificent antiques.
The paintings in the Long Gallery included some extraordinary masterpieces, such as those by Constable, Gainsborough and Lely. These three great portraitists had painted the Ingham ancestors, and there were also Canalettos, Van Dykes, and Rembrandts. ‘Another safety net the earlier Inghams provided us with,’ Lady Daphne had said to Miles one afternoon last week. He had looked at her askance. ‘Would we ever sell any?’ he had asked, sounding slightly aghast. Hanson remembered now how she had answered in a low voice, ‘If we have to, we will.’
He himself had jumped in and exclaimed: ‘It will never come to that, surely not, Lady Daphne.’ And he had flashed her a warning signal with his eyes.
Understanding him immediately, she had smiled at her brother and murmured, ‘However, things are improving, and Hugo has sold some of our Wall Street investments, so we have money in the bank.’ She had then turned to Hanson, and said, ‘Let’s continue our little tour of the house, go up to the attics, and Miles can view the rare antiques stored there.’
‘About the Sunday luncheon,’ Susie said, rousing Hanson from his reverie.
He nodded, and replied at once. ‘Buffet style, as we decided, Cook. We always served the food that way when we had the summer cotillions. Lovely evenings they were. Well, not to digress. Lady Daphne’s menu is a good guideline for you, but you can add other dishes if you wish. Perhaps cold poached salmon, asparagus and smoked salmon, dishes like that.’
They went on talking for a few moments, and then finally Hanson left the kitchen, made his way to the wine cellar to select the champagne for tomorrow’s dinner. Definitely Dom Pérignon.
EIGHT (#ulink_eb6a710c-98dd-523e-a90e-91fe5a9df70b)
The light knocking made Diedre sit up straighter at the desk. She called, ‘Come in,’ and looked at the door expectantly.
It was Dulcie who appeared in the entrance to her bedroom, and for a second Diedre was astonished by her appearance. The girl bore a strong resemblance to how Daphne had looked when she was eighteen – was actually her spitting image. All blonde and golden and blue-eyed … well, they all had blue eyes, of course. But here was the most gorgeous girl she had ever seen, except for her sister Daphne at the same age.
Smiling hugely, Diedre got up and walked across the room to put her arms around Dulcie; she gave her a big bear hug, held her close for a moment, then stepped away.
Dulcie was astonished by this gesture from her sister, who had scared the life out of her when she was a child.
Diedre smiled at her once again, added, ‘I haven’t seen you for almost two years; you’ve become a true beauty, Dulcie. You look so much like Daphne when she was your age, it’s quite startling.’
Even more taken aback, Dulcie could only nod. After a split second, she found her voice. Peering at her eldest sister, she said, ‘What happened to you, Diedre? You were always the mean sister, saying very nasty things to me. Unkind things. Have you been taking nice pills?’
Diedre stared at her, and then began to laugh. ‘You seem to have taken a leaf out of Great-Aunt Gwendolyn’s book—’
‘No, yours!’ Dulcie shot back swiftly, cutting her off. ‘Definitely yours … there’s nothing quite like learning at the knee of the master, is there?’
‘Too true,’ Diedre replied, laughter still echoing in her voice. Years ago she would have taken umbrage at Dulcie’s attitude and comments. But not now. The death of her lover had changed her, given her a different approach to life. She was much kinder and nicer. Intense grief had taught her a lot about people, and about herself. Death had softened her; loss had taught her compassion.
Now Diedre said, ‘I must have been really mean to you when you were little. I was, wasn’t I?’
‘I’ll say!’ Dulcie answered sharply, walking into the bedroom and sitting down in a chair near the oriel window. ‘I couldn’t do right for doing wrong, as far as you were concerned. You were nasty, said some really rotten things. You called me a little madam, for one thing.’
Diedre shook her head, shocked to hear this. ‘How terrible, so awful of me actually. I must have been going through some strange stage myself.’
‘I doubt it, because you were always like that. Truly mean. At least to me. But, in a way, you toughened me up, and that’s served me well,’ Dulcie replied in her normal blunt manner. ‘However, there was no reason for you to be so cruel. I was only five. Just a little girl,’ she finished in a sharp tone.
‘I’m so very sorry, Dulcie,’ Diedre said, her voice filled with sincerity as she sat down at her desk and looked across at her sister. ‘I can’t bear the thought I treated you badly. That I was mean, unkind. Will you accept my apology? Can we be friends?’
‘I suppose so. It all depends on how you treat me now, you know. I won’t stand for any of that old nonsense.’
Diedre wanted to laugh at her outspokenness, but she swallowed hard and said, ‘I promise I won’t verbally abuse you. Or upset you in any way.’
‘All right.’ Dulcie now gave her a pointed look. ‘Why are you being so nice to me?’
‘Because I like you. No, I love you. You’re my sister, after all, and we should all stick together, be close. Closer than we’ve been in the past.’
Dulcie was still wondering what this was about. She exclaimed, ‘That’s an odd thing for you to say. You used to behave as if I was a poisonous snake.’
A look of chagrin flowed across Diedre’s face, and she felt a tightening in her chest. How could she have behaved in such a dreadful way towards her baby sister? It was suddenly incomprehensible to her. And then it hit her. She had been unhappy at that time, at odds with the family, and she had taken it out on a child. Shame filled her, rendered her silent. She had been a mean-spirited woman, it seemed, and she was saddened.
After a moment, Dulcie said, ‘You’re looking morose. What is it? Is there something wrong, Diedre?’
There was such concern in her sister’s voice, Diedre felt even worse, and she did not answer. After a short silence she finally said, ‘I am feeling very ashamed of myself for treating you the way I did … After all, you were only a child, as you’ve just reminded me.’
‘Perhaps you were a little jealous because Papa spoiled and pampered me.’
‘You might be right,’ Diedre concurred. Thirteen years ago she had faced many problems in the family; jealousy one of them.
‘I was his favourite and still am,’ Dulcie now announced, giving Diedre a hard stare.
With a faint smile, Diedre replied, ‘He’s clever, our darling father, and he always has been. He makes each of his four daughters feel special – that each one of us is his favourite and the one he loves the most. And, in fact, he loves us all equally.’
‘True. More than I can say about Felicity. She was no mother to me. She’s an odd one. Everyone says it’s because she’s under the influence of the knife-wielding Lawrence Pierce … that she’s so strange these days, I mean. What do you think? And is he really a blond Adonis, with the glamorous looks of a matinee idol jumping around a stage in the West End?’
Diedre burst out laughing. ‘My goodness, what colourful language you use, Dulcie. You’re certainly a chip off two old blocks: mine and Aunt Gwendolyn’s.’
‘Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?’ Dulcie asked, a blonde brow lifting.
‘Our great-aunt would think it was. I have a feeling she’s rather proud of her way with words, even if she’s a bit tart at times. As I often am myself.’
‘So be it. Have you ever met Felicity’s little playfellow?’
‘Once or twice, in the early days of their relationship, just after the war started. And yes, he is very good looking, loaded with charm, but full of himself. He’s a brilliant surgeon, everyone says that. But doctors like him, who save lives and perform miracles of a sort, are egomaniacs. They think they’re to be revered on bended knee.’
‘I’ve heard that before, and the quote about being God is always attributed to you, Diedre, if you care about such things.’
‘I don’t, and you were a neglected child, in my opinion – at least you were neglected by Felicity. Others loved you very much and took care of you in her absence. Still, our mother was behaving in a weird way in those days, and her mind was elsewhere.’
‘I can well imagine exactly where it was. On the scalpel-happy doctor. And a certain part of his anatomy.’
Diedre stared at her, pushed back a chuckle, and asked, ‘Have you ever thought of being a writer, Dulcie?’
‘Occasionally, but I’m studying art history … I love paintings, and occasionally I’ve thought I might open an art gallery when I grow up.’
‘I think you’re grown up now. And that’s a great idea. In the meantime, has DeLacy arrived yet?’
‘She has, and I heard her crying a short while ago. I went into her bedroom and comforted her. I think she regrets her divorce, but I told her to buck up and get ready. So she pulled herself together, and said she was glad to be here with all of us … “in the middle of the clan Ingham” was the way she put it.’
‘Shall I go and see her? She is all right, isn’t she?’
‘She is, I’m sure of that. She was focusing on what to wear when I left her room, so you don’t have to go and see her.’
‘And why did you come to see me? Since I was so horrid to you?’
Dulcie walked across to Diedre, stood in front of her. She said, ‘I wanted to find out if you still frightened me. I was relieved to discover you don’t. And, listen, we can be friends now. After all, we are sisters …’ She let her sentence drift away, and went to the door, opened it. ‘I’m going to go and get ready.’
‘I shall too, Dulcie. I’ll see you downstairs,’ Diedre answered, feeling better than she had in a long time. Her chat with Dulcie had cleared the air.
Also, she was very taken with her youngest sister, the baby of the family. She had been a pretty child, and had grown up to be a true beauty. She had a glamour about her, with her flowing blonde hair, worn shoulder length. Her face was soft; her full mouth, high cheekbones and arched brows gave her a strong look of Daphne at the same age.
She’s got it all, Diedre thought, walking over to the wardrobe to take out a frock. She’ll go far, our little Dulcie.
NINE (#ulink_71c6d2cc-0751-54db-ae7f-9f2f7a7b7f06)
Anger had replaced DeLacy’s tears, as she discarded dress after dress, throwing them on the bed, a look of disgust on her face. There was nothing in her wardrobe here at Cavendon that she liked; they were old frocks, out-of-date for the most part, and not so flattering any more, she was sure of that.
She stood glaring at them scattered across her bed, when there was a knock on the door. Before she had a chance to speak, Miles walked in.
‘I came to see what you were doing. My God, DeLacy, you’re not even ready!’ he exclaimed, slightly annoyed.
‘Only because I’ve nothing to wear,’ she wailed, staring at her brother. ‘I brought several things for the evening, but I didn’t bother about day frocks …’ Her voice trailed off helplessly.
Miles came over to the bed and started to examine the dresses. Finally, he picked out a pale grey and white silk afternoon frock with a full skirt, a square neckline and flowing sleeves. ‘This looks quite stylish. I’d wear this if I were you.’
‘That’s a funny expression to use, Miles, since you’re a man. But no doubt you like it because it’s an old Cecily Swann frock.’
He nodded, and smiled knowingly. ‘Of course it is; her style is inimitable. That’s why she’s the success she is today.’ He noticed DeLacy’s mouth tighten, and he knew the reason why. Cecily and DeLacy were no longer friends, and had not been for years.
He glanced at his watch. ‘Come on, put this on. It’s really beautiful, Lacy, and certainly it doesn’t look dated. With some jewellery, it’ll look quite different. Smart.’
DeLacy sighed. ‘I suppose I have no option. All right, I’ll wear it. But I don’t have time to ring for Pam and wait for her to come up. You’ll have to help me.’ As she spoke, DeLacy picked up the dress and hurried into the bathroom. ‘Wait for me, Miles, please, don’t leave.’
‘I’ll be here,’ he promised. He strolled over to the window and glanced out. In the distance he could see the lake and the two swans floating across the water. It had been his ancestor, Humphrey Ingham, who had decreed there would forever be swans at Cavendon, in recognition of James Swann, who had been his liegeman all those years ago, and the truest friend Humphrey had ever had. And they’ve been true ever since, Miles thought. For more than one hundred and seventy years …
‘Here I am!’ DeLacy cried, sounding more cheerful and swinging around. ‘If you could do the buttons for me, Miles. Then all I have to do is put on a string of pearls and earrings, and I’m ready.’
He did as she asked, saying as he did, ‘You look beautiful, and the dress is lovely. By the way, I think you and Cecily should make up, become friends again.’
‘I’ve tried. Many times; even asked her aunt Dorothy to let me buy clothes there. But I’ve been rejected every time. They just don’t give an inch.’
‘Maybe Ceci will relent, if I ask her,’ Miles murmured, fastening the last button. ‘I’ll talk to her later today.’
‘She’s here!’ DeLacy exclaimed as she turned around to face him, surprise in her eyes. ‘And she’s talking to you?’ DeLacy was astonished.
‘Yes, actually, she is,’ Miles answered carefully.
‘I can’t believe it! I thought she would never speak to you again. Why didn’t you tell me she was going to be here?’
Miles sighed. ‘I’ve been far too busy; I wasn’t keeping it from you. But please, Lacy, hurry up. We mustn’t keep Papa waiting.’
‘Just another second, and do let’s go downstairs together. I won’t be a moment.’ As DeLacy spoke she hurried over to her dressing table, took out a string of pearls, put them on, began to look for the earrings that matched.
Miles said, ‘I shall talk to Cecily later this afternoon, and perhaps I can persuade her to relent, now that six years have passed. Perhaps she’ll agree to a rapprochement. Do you want me to do that?’
‘Yes, I do, Miles, as long as there are no recriminations, or anything like that … I mean the placing of blame, I’ve been blamed enough of late.’
‘By Simon, you mean?’ her brother asked, looking across the bedroom at her.
‘Oh yes, and yes, and yes! Long ago, I discovered he loves to whine. And he’s doing it now, moaning and groaning that the failure of our marriage is all my fault.’
‘Is it?’ he asked.
DeLacy swung around to face him, shaking her head. ‘Maybe. Or maybe it’s his … to tell you the truth it’s nobody’s fault. It just happened … it’s the way it is. And I know I can’t remarry him as he wants me to. I simply can’t, Miles.’
‘You don’t have to protest to me. I know exactly what you mean. When a relationship doesn’t work it’s hell on earth.’
Although Miles had told DeLacy she looked beautiful, he was nonetheless worried about her. She was much thinner, and had a gauntness about her. Yes, her face was still delicate, beautifully proportioned, but her shorter hair did not really suit her. He was not particularly enamoured of these sleek, cropped hairdos; he found them masculine. He thought he could get Cecily to become Lacy’s friend again, and she would influence his sister. As they walked downstairs together, he made up his mind to help DeLacy through this difficult period of her life. Fragile though she was at this moment, he knew she was strong. After all, she was an Ingham.
TEN (#ulink_d04e0768-4c69-5636-960c-01893113e64f)
The library door was closed, but Hanson opened it without even knocking, and walked in. The Earl was expecting him.
Charles Ingham was sitting at his desk. He looked up and nodded at the sight of the butler. ‘I’m assuming all my daughters and sisters have arrived, Hanson?’
‘That is so, m’lord,’ Hanson answered, walking forward. ‘The young ladies are in their rooms, and I have spoken to Lady Gwendolyn. I told her tea will be at four thirty today, and I’ve given the same information to Lady Vanessa, as you requested. She is also in her suite. Apparently Lady Lavinia was with Lady Gwendolyn when I telephoned, and the message was relayed to her, Your Lordship.’
‘Thank you, Hanson. As I told you earlier, I don’t want to be disturbed once my children have come down.’
Hanson said, ‘I understand, Lord Mowbray.’ There was a momentary pause, then Hanson murmured, with a slight twinkle in his eye, ‘I could stand guard outside, m’lord, if you so wish.’
Charles burst out laughing. ‘I don’t think that will be necessary, but thank you for offering.’
The butler inclined his head and excused himself. Charles rose, and walked across to the hearth, where he stood with his back to the fire, thinking about his children. He had no qualms about what he was about to tell them. He was quite certain they would understand; his plans made good sense. His daughters were intelligent; they cared about his wellbeing and trusted his judgement. Miles already knew, as did Daphne. As for the world at large, he had long since realized he didn’t care about what strangers thought.
Daphne was the first to arrive with Hugo. When she joined him by the fireside, she said, ‘I have told Hugo about the missing jewels, Papa.’
Charles turned as the door burst open.
‘Here I am, Papa!’ Dulcie cried in her usual flamboyant way, floating towards her father in a cloud of pale blue silk.
Charles embraced her. ‘Like Daphne, you look beautiful, Dulcie.’ A smile tugged at his mouth. ‘You’re both wearing blue. And taking a huge chance. Aunt Gwendolyn will tease you mercilessly about wearing frocks to match your eyes.’
‘She will,’ Dulcie agreed. ‘But we don’t care, do we, Daphers? We love blue, it suits us – and anyway, she wears blue as well. Because she has the same blue eyes. It’s a family distinction.’
Daphne laughed, and went and sat on the sofa, where Hugo joined her.
A moment later, the door burst open again and Diedre, DeLacy and Miles came in together in a mad rush. ‘I hope we’re not late, Papa.’ Diedre hurried forward, with DeLacy right behind her; Miles closed the door and joined his sisters.
Charles greeted them, and was relieved to see that Diedre had chosen pink and DeLacy was in a pale grey frock. No doubt they remembered how their great-aunt frequently made fun of them. Even though she was now in her mid-eighties, she was full of life, and mischief.
Charles let his eyes rest on his children for a moment, and admiringly so, and then he gave them a warm smile.
‘It’s really wonderful to have you here together … I should have done this before, had a family reunion. But, as you know, we’ve had our hands full, keeping Cavendon on an even keel. And it is safe, by the way, thanks to good management, wise counsel from Hugo, and innovations created by Miles. And also a great deal of prudence on Daphne’s part in the running of the house. Anyway, I know we’re going to have a truly happy few days together …’
Pausing, Charles moved away from the fireplace and sat down in a chair. Leaning back, making himself comfortable, he went on, ‘I have several things to tell you. But first, let me explain that I am well, truly recovered from the heart attack I had last year. Doctor Laird has given me a great bill of health. He says I’m fit, and that I can lead a normal life. Which is tremendous news.’
‘It is indeed, Papa!’ Dulcie began to clap her hands, glanced around, and her siblings joined in, clapping with her, laughing together. They loved their father, who had been the true constant in their lives.
Charles still had a smile on his face when he continued. ‘On Sunday afternoon, once lunch is over, I will be leaving Cavendon. I’ve decided that now is the right time to take a holiday. Just for a few weeks, but it will be a welcome respite—’
‘What a wonderful idea!’ DeLacy cut in. ‘It will do you good, Papa—’
‘Where are you going?’ Dulcie asked, interrupting her sister. ‘Somewhere lovely, I hope.’
‘I’m going to Switzerland,’ Charles said, his keen eyes roaming over them once more. ‘To Zurich, to be exact. Hugo has very kindly offered me his villa, and for as long as I want.’
‘What a treat.’ Diedre smiled at her father lovingly, and then a thought suddenly occurred to her. ‘You’ll be by yourself, and you might feel lonely, Papa. Would you like one of us to accompany you?’
Charles shook his head. ‘Thank you, Diedre, for such a kind thought. I would like all of you to know that I won’t be alone. You see, I’m getting married. The holiday is actually my honeymoon.’
Three pairs of blue eyes, wide with shock, were staring at him. Diedre, DeLacy and Dulcie were speechless, unable to say anything for a few seconds, taken by surprise as they were.
Daphne stood up and said, ‘I think congratulations are in order, don’t you?’ She eyed her sisters, her own face wreathed in smiles of happiness for her father. ‘Congratulations,’ they all said in unison.
‘You haven’t told us who the bride is, Papa.’ Diedre stared at her father, a quizzical look on her face. ‘Do we know her?’
‘Of course you do,’ Miles said, walking over to join Daphne in front of the fire. ‘Very well, in fact.’
Charles also stood. ‘It’s Charlotte. I’m going to marry Charlotte Swann. Whom I love and cherish and wish to spend the rest of my life with.’
There was a sudden excited rush towards him.
As usual, Dulcie was the first to spring forward and into his arms, followed by DeLacy and Diedre. Within seconds, three of his daughters were hugging him so hard he was almost knocked over.
‘Goodness me!’ Charles cried. ‘That’s a truly genuine endorsement, if ever I’ve seen one.’
Diedre exclaimed, ‘She’s been like a mother to us, Papa, and she’s certainly held this family together for years. I’m very, very happy for you.’
‘So am I,’ DeLacy said, meaning this as much as Diedre did.
‘I’m so happy for you and for Charlotte, Papa. I don’t know what I would have done without her when I was little,’ Dulcie announced. ‘She gave me so much motherly love.’
‘I know, darling,’ Charles murmured. ‘She’s always been loyal, and she gave love to each and every one of us.’
After a few minutes, when everything had calmed down, it was Diedre who looked across at Daphne and then at Miles. She said softly, ‘You both already knew, didn’t you?’
They nodded, and Miles explained. ‘I had to know, because I’m the heir, and I have to understand all of my father’s actions. Daphne had to be told, because it is she who had to plan the wedding.’
‘I understand,’ Diedre said in an even voice, not at all jealous or put out that two of her younger siblings had known before she did. She was fully aware she had been sadly absent from Cavendon, and for quite some time, and so she didn’t really know what had been going on over the years.
‘When are you getting married, Papa?’ Dulcie asked, as she hovered next to him near the fire.
‘On Sunday morning,’ he answered. ‘Tomorrow evening will be … our engagement party …’ He paused, then finished, ‘On Sunday morning, Charlotte and I will be married in the church here on the estate. There will be a buffet luncheon for the Inghams and the Swanns, and then we shall depart for London, en route to Zurich.’
DeLacy asked, ‘Papa, does Great-Aunt Gwendolyn know? And what about Aunt Lavinia and Aunt Vanessa? Have you confided in them?’
Charles shook his head. ‘They don’t know, not yet. I’m going to tell them in a short while, when we have afternoon tea. You see, I felt it was only correct to explain everything to my children first. But, in all honesty, I don’t need anyone’s approval, as you well know. I am a grown man, fifty-seven years old, and I can do as I wish. I told you first because you have a right to know. And I am going to tell them as a matter of courtesy.’
Diedre said quietly, ‘Great-Aunt Gwendolyn might say you’re stepping out of your class, and—’
‘I don’t care what she thinks – or anyone else!’ Charles interrupted somewhat peremptorily. ‘It’s my life, and I shall live it as I see fit. I thrive when I’m with Charlotte. I shrivel up when I’m without her. I want to be happy in these last years of my life.’
‘The world has changed, Diedre,’ Miles interjected. ‘Sadly, many aristocratic families are suffering because of the heavy taxes imposed on us by the government. And for many other reasons. I don’t believe anyone we know is going to pay much attention to what you do, Papa, with all due respect. They’re all bound up in their own ghastly problems, trying to survive the best way they can.’
‘Well said,’ Hugo agreed. ‘No one can live their lives by what the world thinks. Charles must do as he wishes.’
‘Can I be a bridesmaid?’ Dulcie asked, throwing her father an engaging look.
He smiled, then looked across at Daphne, a brow lifting.
Daphne addressed her sisters when she said, ‘Yes, Dulcie, you can, and you, too, DeLacy, and you, Diedre. I shall be matron-of-honour, since I’m a married woman. And I’ll ask Alicia to be a bridesmaid too.’
‘We don’t have bridesmaids’ frocks,’ Dulcie murmured, making a moue.
‘I thought the three of you could wear something really summery and pretty,’ Daphne answered. ‘As for me, I shall be wearing blue.’
Her sisters began to laugh, and Diedre said, ‘And so shall we. None of us are short of blue dresses, so at least we’ll match each other. Oh, how wonderful … a wedding at Cavendon.’
ELEVEN (#ulink_770e7c74-c378-5c1e-8a05-dd9b3fb4d1cb)
As Cecily turned the bend on the dirt road she saw Genevra sitting in her usual spot on the dry-stone wall. She waved.
The Romany girl waved back, jumped off the wall, and stood waiting for her.
Cecily noticed at once that Genevra was wearing one of her old frocks, and she couldn’t help thinking how well it suited her. She had not seen the gypsy in a long time, and now she realized how she had blossomed, was actually quite beautiful in an exotic way.
‘Yer mam give it ter me,’ Genevra explained, touching the white collar of the cotton dress. Her head on one side, she studied Cecily for a moment before adding, ‘It’s me favourite.’
‘I’m glad you like it.’ Cecily hesitated for a moment before asking, ‘How old are you now?’
The girl grinned. ‘Twenty-seven. Same as Master Miles.’ Genevra glanced up at the great house towering above them on top of the hill. ‘Big ’appenings going on up yonder, ain’t that so, Cecily?’
‘All the girls are here to visit Lord Mowbray.’
‘Did yer keep that bit of bone I carved for yer?’
Cecily nodded. ‘I did. But why are you asking me about it now?’
‘It’s lucky. A charm.’ She waved a finger at Cecily. ‘Don’t lose.’
‘Of course I won’t lose it, Genevra. I treasure it,’ Cecily responded, meaning every word. Somewhat superstitious by nature, she believed that the Romany girl did have the gift of sight, as she had always claimed over the years. Some people on the estate laughed at Genevra behind her back, and belittled her, but Cecily understood how clever she actually was, and she was fond of her.
‘Did Miss Charlotte keep hers?’ the gypsy asked.
‘I’m sure she put it away carefully.’
Stepping closer to Cecily, Genevra opened her clenched hand, showed her a newly carved piece of bone. ‘Tek it, Miss Cecily. It’s a charm. I carved it for Master Miles. Give it ter Miles. Go on, tek it.’
Cecily reached for the bone, stared down at it. There were six small crosses and two hearts carved on it, with tiny strips of scarlet and blue ribbon tied on one end.
‘It’s like mine.’
‘No, it’s not.’
‘I meant the ribbons.’
‘True. Tell Miles it’s lucky. Keep Miles safe, liddle Ceci. Keep him near yer.’
‘I will,’ Cecily answered, knowing full well that she would indeed do that. She had no option. After all, when she was just a young girl, she had taken the Swann oath: To protect the Inghams.
As she walked on up the hill, Cecily paused at one moment and looked across towards the fields. In the distance, she could make out the figure of Genevra, and, on the far horizon, the Romany wagons. There were three now; the family had grown.
It was Charlotte Swann who had told her why the 6th Earl allowed them to live on his land. Many years earlier, during the period when the 5th Earl had been the head of the Ingham family, Genevra’s great-grandfather, Gervaise, had done him many services. One was discovering and catching the poachers who raided Ingham lands. The reward Gervaise and his brood were given was the right to inhabit the area near the bluebell woods for all time. The 6th Earl was just upholding that promise.
Romany wagons were a common sight in the lanes and woods of the English countryside, and had been for years. Cecily had always thought of them as picturesque. Some of the gypsies moved around, travelling from village to village, while others chose a particular area, and stayed if they were allowed. They kept to themselves, did not cause trouble.
Cecily couldn’t help thinking about Genevra’s cautionary words to keep Miles safe. She wished now she had asked her what she had seen in the future, although questioning the Romany would not have made her confide. Genevra had always been wary of issuing predictions. Who would want to harm Miles? Clarissa, his estranged wife? Clarissa’s powerful father, Lord Meldrew? Someone unknown? Cecily could not pinpoint anyone as she hurried on, heading for the long terrace at Cavendon where Miles was waiting for her. She pushed worrying thoughts to the back of her mind.
Miles stood at the top of the steps, leaning against the balustrade, and she thought at once that he did not look good. He was wearing a navy blue linen suit that was far too big; it swam around him. Poor choice, Cecily thought, as he kissed her quickly on the cheek and then walked her along the terrace. She was going to have to take him in hand, do something about these awful clothes. Linen was not her favourite fabric. It creased in seconds.
‘What happened?’ she asked, as they sat down at the wrought-iron table in the centre of the terrace.
‘It went really well. Diedre, Dulcie and DeLacy were thrilled about Papa and Charlotte, so no problems there.’
‘I didn’t think there would be. After all, my aunt practically brought them up.’ Cecily sat back in the chair, put her hand in her pocket and brought out the piece of bone, then quickly told Miles about her encounter with Genevra.
After examining the bone, turning it around, he asked, ‘What do the little engravings mean?’
‘I don’t know. She never explains. I have a bone, so does Charlotte, and she made one for Daphne years ago. When Hugo was going off to fight in the Great War, Daphne begged her to explain the carvings. Sympathetic to Daphne’s worries, Genevra finally gave in. She said Daphne would have five children. And she did.’
‘The bits of ribbon I understand completely. They represent the House of Ingham. Scarlet and azure are our colours.’
Cecily simply nodded.
Miles said, ‘And you believe in Genevra’s claim that she can see into the future, don’t you?’
‘I always have. I know she’s strange, and some people say she’s crazy, but I think she’s just different. And gifted in a certain way.’ Cecily shrugged. ‘You’re to keep the bone safe. It’s a lucky charm, according to our gypsy girl.’
Miles put Genevra’s gift into his jacket pocket, and murmured, ‘When you run into her again, thank her for me. If I see her I will do that myself.’
‘She means well, Miles. And I mean well when I tell you that you must not wear this suit ever again. It wrinkles quickly. It’s too big for you. And navy blue is not your colour.’
Miles started to laugh. ‘So I do matter to you, Miss Swann?’ He raised a brow.
Cecily felt the warmth on her neck, and she realized she was blushing. Swiftly, she said, ‘Clothes are my life, and I tell everyone if a garment doesn’t work for them.’
‘Oh, so I’m one of many, eh?’
‘I wouldn’t say that. I do care how you look.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re my friend.’
‘Thank you, Ceci, for being my friend. And you know I feel the same way about you.’
‘I do. And I think we can manage to make this weekend work, if we’re cordial with each other, as we agreed to be earlier today.’
He smiled at her and stood up. ‘I think we’d better go inside; it’s teatime, and Papa is expecting you to join us.’
TWELVE (#ulink_979b6eb6-c7ec-58c9-bf2c-769e362d9377)
‘You’re getting married!’ Lavinia exclaimed, her incredulity apparent as she stared at her brother.
‘I am, yes,’ Charles answered, sitting back in his chair.
‘To whom?’ Lavinia asked, ‘And when?’
‘I’m marrying Charlotte, of course, and then—’
‘Thank heavens for that!’ Great-Aunt Gwendolyn instantly cut in, detecting a critical nuance in Lavinia’s voice, wishing to avert any unpleasantness. ‘And it’s about time, too. I, for one, am thrilled to welcome Charlotte to this family.’
‘So am I, Charles,’ his youngest sister, Vanessa, announced, smiling at him. Looking pointedly at her great-aunt, she then added, ‘But, actually, Charlotte’s been a part of this family since we were all children, growing up together.’
‘There might well be gossip, you know,’ Lavinia interjected, focusing on her brother. ‘You’re marrying out of your class, for one thing, and you’re fifty-seven, Charles. Why get married at all? Why not just continue in the same situation? I think your actions might seem inappropriate to many people, especially your friends. You know how you loathe scandal touching the family.’
The yellow drawing room went unusually quiet.
There wasn’t a sound. Not one person said a word. No one moved, not even slightly. The stillness was overwhelming.
Miles glanced across at his father and saw at once how stunned Charles looked. He was about to get up, but Dulcie beat him to it. His sister sprang to her feet, flew across the room and stood behind her father’s chair, one hand on his shoulder.
She said in a cutting voice, ‘With all due respect, Aunt Lavinia, I don’t believe Papa was seeking your approval. What he chooses to do is none of your business … nobody’s business, in fact. He was actually being courteous. He wished to tell us he was getting married to Charlotte, and discuss the weekend events—’
‘And I’m in charge of those!’ Miles exclaimed, also jumping up, taking over from Dulcie, seizing his chance to change the direction of the conversation. He said in a strong, determined voice, ‘Cecily has been helping me plan things. So let me proceed. Tonight it will be the usual quiet family dinner, just Inghams present. But tomorrow evening will be a different thing altogether, an engagement party – a gala, in a sense, as engagement dinners usually are. Harry, Cecily, Mrs Alice and Walter will be joining Papa and Charlotte, and also—’
Cutting across Miles in the rudest manner, Lavinia addressed her brother. ‘I assume you haven’t invited any of your friends, Charles. And perhaps that’s for the best.’
‘Actually, Charlotte and I have kept it to a minimum. We wanted a small family wedding, with just a few close friends. But we will be giving a party when we return from our honeymoon,’ he finished, his blue eyes icy. Turning away from his sister, Charles said in a softer tone to Miles, ‘Please continue, Miles. Sorry you were interrupted.’
‘Thank you, Papa. On Sunday morning, Charlotte and Papa will be married in the church on the estate. After the service, Cecily and I will host a luncheon. This will be in a buffet style, as we favoured for the cotillions in the past. In the afternoon, the bride and groom will leave for their honeymoon. Of course, all of the Swanns are invited, as well as the Inghams.’
Dulcie said, ‘The four Dees and Alicia are going to be bridesmaids. Well, three of us. Naturally, Daphne will be the matron-of-honour.’
Daphne, relieved that Miles and Dulcie had stopped Lavinia’s idiotic chatter, stood and walked across the room. She said to Charles, ‘I think I should tell Hanson we are now ready for tea, Papa.’
‘What a good idea,’ Charles replied. He was proud of his children for taking over, and so expertly squashing Lavinia, who had been unusually rude. She had overstepped the mark, and he would put her in her place later.
Reaching the door, Daphne jerked it open, much to the surprise of Hanson, who was standing guard outside. ‘Goodness me, Lady Daphne, you really made me jump.’
‘I’m so sorry, Hanson. And you can stand down now. His Lordship has broken the news to his sisters and Lady Gwendolyn.’
‘How did they take it, Lady Daphne?’
‘I must admit, Aunt Lavinia seemed utterly taken aback, but not Aunt Vanessa, who was lovely about it. As for Lady Gwendolyn, she seemed positively elated.’
‘Oh yes, she would be, m’lady. She admires Charlotte. Mind you, she’s always been on the side of the Swanns, very partial to them.’
Daphne glanced at the butler, frowning. ‘That’s a strange word to use, Hanson … partial.’
‘What I meant, m’lady, is that she likes them, but then we all do. Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I’ll have tea brought up immediately.’
‘Thank you, Hanson,’ Daphne answered, and watched him rush downstairs to marshal his troops. She herself went back to the yellow drawing room, and purposely avoided looking at Lavinia, who had been so snobbish and oddly belligerent.
Daphne was glad to hear the cheerful buzz of conversation as the family chatted with each other. She took her seat on the sofa next to Hugo. He was her rock – and everyone’s rock these days. He was wonderful at keeping everyone’s spirits up, and he did a lot to help her father hold Cavendon steady. Her father had recovered from his heart attack, but there were times when she thought he wasn’t quite as strong as he looked.
Taking hold of her hand, squeezing it, Hugo said, sotto voce, ‘That was a rather ugly performance from Lavinia. I was appalled at her attitude, and she spoke so rudely to Charles, who has always been so good to her. I’m happy Charlotte wasn’t present.’
‘So am I, darling. But Cecily’s here, and although her face has remained inscrutable, I’m sure she was a bit hurt. And nobody can blame her for that. Don’t forget, my father put her and Miles in place because he didn’t want to cope with any problems or trouble. He believes Miles and Cecily can handle anything, keep everything on an even keel.’
‘I’m well aware of that, and together they can be extremely tough. Unfortunately your father did get a bit of a shock a few minutes ago. Lavinia was mean-spirited, and really out of step with the times.’
‘She was ghastly. Still, she’s not been very nice to anyone since Uncle Jack died. Grieving for him, I suppose.’
‘I doubt that. I don’t think there was much love lost there. Jack adored her, and all he got in return was unhappiness. Buckets of it, according to Miles.’
‘Miles?’
‘Yes, Miles. They were rather close. He was Jack’s favourite – surely you can’t have forgotten that, Daphne? He treated Miles like the son he never had. That’s why Jack set up a trust for him in his will. It was small, though.’
‘How stupid I am, Hugo. Of course, I remember now. Papa told me Lavinia wasn’t too happy about that trust, but it was rock-solid legally. Lavinia couldn’t do a thing.’
Daphne turned, glanced at the door as it opened. There was a sudden flurry of activity as Hanson swept into the yellow drawing room, leading his team.
Right behind him was Gordon Lane, now the senior footman, accompanied by Ian Melrose, the second footman, and Jessie Phelps, the head housemaid. The three of them were pushing tea trolleys laden with finger sandwiches, scones, strawberry jam and clotted cream, and all the usual fancy buns and cakes.
‘A sight for sore eyes,’ Hugo murmured. ‘I’ve been so busy today I’ve worked up quite an appetite.’
‘I know, so have I. But mostly I just want a good cup of tea,’ Daphne said.
Miles, who had been talking to Lady Gwendolyn, now walked over to join Diedre, who was sitting with Cecily. ‘I’m sorry about that, Ceci,’ he said quietly. ‘I hope you didn’t get upset.’
‘No, I didn’t. But what your aunt did do was alert me, and I hope you, too. We’ll have to make sure she doesn’t do anything to upset Charlotte and your father at the dinner tomorrow – or, even worse, create some sort of scene in the church on Sunday.’
‘You’re right on target. We’ll keep a sharp eye on her.’
Diedre said, ‘She’s preposterous, not to mention stupid. What in God’s name did she think she could achieve by making those awful comments?’
‘Let’s just dismiss it now, and put it down to dim-wittedness,’ Miles said. ‘She’s always been somewhat stupid, in my opinion.’
‘That’s right,’ Diedre agreed, and rose. ‘I’m going to sit with Great-Aunt Gwendolyn. I want to speak to her about something, if you will excuse me.’
Once they were alone, Miles took hold of Cecily’s hand; to his surprise and pleasure, she didn’t pull it away. She simply looked at him, her eyes questioning.
‘There’s something I need to ask you,’ he said, and paused, looking uncertain about continuing.
Cecily remained silent, hoping he wasn’t going to talk about something personal … about them and their relationship.
After a moment, Miles plunged in. ‘Look, DeLacy really wants the two of you to become friends again. She’s genuinely missed you over the years, Ceci. And she’s ready to apologize.’
Cecily didn’t answer at first, and then finally she said: ‘We can be friends again, of course. It’s silly to hold grudges, and of course I’ll accept her apology. But there is just one thing, Miles … I do work. Very hard and long hours. Just so long as she understands this, and that I won’t always be available.’
‘I’m sure she will. I’ll make sure she does.’ He squeezed her hand, and then let go of it. She had a sudden look of discomfort on her face, and he realized that it wasn’t going to be easy, winning Ceci back into his arms.
A moment later, Dulcie came and flopped down in the chair next to the sofa. She grimaced. ‘If Aunt Lavinia dares to make another rotten comment, I promise you I’m going to grab the first cream bun I see and shove it in her mouth. If that doesn’t shut her up, I don’t know what will.’
Cecily began to laugh and so did Miles. Glancing at Cecily he said, ‘Don’t think Dulcie’s joking, because she isn’t.’
‘Of course I’m not joking,’ Dulcie assured them, frowning, wondering why anyone would think that. She always did what she said she was going to do. She was an Ingham, after all. And Ingham women, especially, always stood up to be counted.
THIRTEEN (#ulink_b4012adf-d4eb-5999-8d31-dbd19b51e9a0)
The house was still. So quiet that Cecily was alarmed. She stood in the small entrance foyer, her head cocked, listening for sounds of life.
Nothing stirred. This worried her. Her aunt had not looked well earlier; rather tired, worn out, actually. She hoped Charlotte had not collapsed, taken to her bed.
Cecily had come over to her house to help her try on the last of the clothes she had brought from London. That was an exhausting exercise, fitting frocks and outfits, and she hoped Charlotte was up to it.
Cecily walked towards the sitting room when she heard noises on the floor above and stopped. ‘Are you up there, Aunt Charlotte?’ she called, and immediately began to climb the stairs.
Charlotte appeared on the landing, looking down at her great-niece.
‘Cecily! I didn’t expect you until later.’
They hugged when Cecily stepped out onto the landing, and then they went into Charlotte’s bedroom together.
Cecily noticed the photograph in the silver frame at once. It was of David Ingham, the 5th Earl, for whom Charlotte had worked from the age of seventeen until his death. She had been his personal assistant.
Over the years their relationship had grown much more personal, although they had been so discreet that nobody knew for certain if they had been lovers or not. Except for the Swanns, who were aware of everything that went on at Cavendon.
The frame on the bed was next to a number of leather-bound notebooks and a pile of legal documents. And instantly Charlotte noticed a peculiar look on Cecily’s face, and followed the direction of her gaze. She asked, ‘Why are you so interested in David’s photograph?’
‘I was wondering why you have it in your bedroom? After all, your fiancé might find it strange, having his father’s image staring back at him all the time.’
Charlotte burst out laughing. After a moment, when her hilarity had subsided, she said, ‘It’s usually locked up in a drawer. But I’ve been making a special list for you, and the code number for my main safe is on the back of his picture. That’s why it’s here.’
As she was speaking, Charlotte took the photograph out of the frame, and showed Cecily the number neatly written on the back. ‘This is the combination for the big safe, where I keep my jewellery and those documents.’
Reaching for the list on the bedside table, she gave it to Cecily. ‘I just added the number here. And, by the way, those are some of the record books. They are kept with many others in the second safe. I’ve been rearranging them, putting them in order.’
Cecily nodded, glanced at the list. ‘And what are these other numbers?’
‘I’ll explain the list later. I want to tell you something else. When I die, you will take my place and keep the record books. Until you die. Before that happens, you must designate the person who will replace you to keep the records.’
Suddenly troubled, Cecily asked, ‘What’s wrong, Aunt Charlotte? Are you ill?’
‘No, I’m not, don’t be so silly.’
‘Then why are you talking about wills and dying, when you’re about to get married?’
‘You of all people should know how practical I am. I want my affairs in order before I marry Charles. Also, we are going abroad, we’ll be travelling, and I am fifty-eight years old. So, just in case—’
‘Just in case what?’ Cecily interrupted sharply.
‘Don’t get het up, Ceci dear. I’m perfectly well, and fit, and sound of mind. However, I do have quite a few possessions, such as this house, jewellery David bought me over the years, certain investments he made for me. I just want everything to be quite clear to you. I’m not going to die for a very long time, I promise you.’
‘I’ll hold you to that.’
‘I won’t let you down. Nobody knows what’s going to happen from one day to the next. We are not in control of life. Life controls us. We have to handle what befalls us the best way we can. And hope and pray that it comes out right in the end. Remember this, Ceci.’
‘I do take what you say seriously. I do listen to you,’ Cecily reassured her.
Picking up one of the notebooks, Charlotte opened it at a certain page, handed it to Cecily. ‘Please read this particular entry.’
Staring at the page, Cecily read the words which had been penned in a beautiful copperplate handwriting.
Still holding the book, Cecily gazed at her aunt. ‘That’s so sad … they lost a child.’ Her voice was thick with emotion. ‘Do you know who the person was? The man who wrote it? The Swann?’ She was intrigued, curious as well as touched.
‘I think so, but only because of the date. I believe it was Mark Swann who wrote it, the father of Percy and Walter. He was head of the family at that time. Obviously I have no idea who the Ingham woman was. For obvious reasons, he didn’t write her name in the notebook. Protecting her. At least that’s my opinion.’
‘Why did you show me this entry?’
‘For the same reason I told Charles about it a few years ago. I wanted him to understand that there is something mysterious, yet inevitable, about the Ingham men and the Swann women being together. I wanted you to understand that, too.’
Cecily’s dark brows drew together in a frown. ‘I’m not sure I’m following you. What do you mean?’
‘I have been involved with two Ingham men. One died. The other I am about to marry. And what about you and Miles?’ Charlotte paused for a second, and gave Cecily a penetrating look. ‘You and Miles have been extremely close since you were children. And I know you love each other.’
‘Yes, it’s true,’ Cecily admitted, having denied it for years.
‘And there hasn’t been another man in your life, has there?’
‘No. I’m far too busy working. I don’t have time.’
Charlotte bit back a smile. ‘You’re in love with Miles,’ she said again. ‘Other men don’t interest you, hold no attraction for you.’
When Cecily was silent, Charlotte asked, ‘Am I not right?’
‘You are,’ Cecily answered in a low voice.
‘And he’s in love with you. I believe that’s one of the reasons his marriage failed. Clarissa played a role, of course. She wasn’t a good wife. And she never conceived. Anyway, this is the point … he’ll come after you, Ceci. Be prepared. That’s the way the Ingham men are. With us. They just won’t let go.’
Cecily sighed. ‘He told me this morning that he is going to ask for a divorce. He said he hoped we could be together once he was free, because he loved me.’
‘And how did you answer?’
‘I told him I didn’t know how I would feel. I really meant that, Aunt Charlotte. I don’t believe I can go back to him. Ever. He hurt me so much. I can’t forgive him. Or ever forget his treachery.’
‘Oh darling, it wasn’t treachery,’ Charlotte said softly, her heart aching for Cecily, knowing how she had suffered. ‘He had to do his duty as the heir. Whatever his feelings were for you, he had to put them aside. He had no alternative.’
‘You’re defending him!’ Cecily pursed her lips and gave her aunt a hard and knowing stare.
‘No, I’m explaining to you what Miles Ingham faced. It was his duty,’ she emphasized again. ‘He had to marry her, produce an heir.’
‘And, once he’s free, he’ll have to do his duty again! Marry an aristocrat, beget an aristocratic heir. The Earl will see to that,’ Cecily shot back vehemently.
‘No, no, that won’t happen,’ Charlotte replied. ‘I promise you. Very recently, I reminded Charles about that entry you’ve just read, which fully illustrates how long these liaisons have gone on. Over a hundred years. I told him he had to agree that Miles must seek a divorce. That is an imperative. I also explained that he could not interfere in the relationship which Miles would likely have with you later. And the world has changed radically, which Charles accepts.’
Genuinely surprised by this statement, Cecily just sat there, gaping at Charlotte, rendered speechless for a few moments.
And then it hit her. ‘You did this, didn’t you? You put us together this weekend. It was you who told the Earl that Miles and I worked well with each other, that we should handle everything. The events. Any problems or trouble that might arise. It was you, Aunt Charlotte. You manipulated all of us.’
Charlotte shook her head. ‘No, I didn’t. What I did was arrange a situation in which you and Miles would be helpful to us if anything went amiss. And at the same time I knew it would give you both a chance to connect again.’
‘You’re splitting hairs.’
‘Maybe I am. But I’ve watched Miles in his awful misery for six years. Very painful to witness. And I’ve seen how you work and work and work. To counteract your own sorrow and loneliness. You’re both broken. I hoped I could help to mend the two of you somehow.’
When Cecily remained silent, Charlotte went on quietly, ‘Well, I suppose I am guilty as charged. Still, there’s no getting away from the fact that Miles must produce an heir for Cavendon. And the only woman he wants in his bed is you. And that’s that.’
‘You’ve put me in a terrible position!’ Cecily protested.
‘No, I haven’t, and actually you are holding all the cards, if you think about it. I really do believe you have the winning hand. However, let’s move on. I need to continue to explain about my will. You are my main heir. Harry is my only other heir. I’ve looked after him, so there’s nothing to worry about. I’ve left my house to the two of you. However, I have also left all of my shares in Cecily Swann Couture to you. It is your business, and you should own it fully.’
‘Thank you, thank you very much, Aunt Charlotte. But what about Aunt Dorothy? She has some shares.’
‘Not many. I’m going to buy her out, and she’ll be happy to sell. You don’t need any partners. Always remember that. Anyway, they’re a nuisance in the long run.’
‘You’ve never been a nuisance,’ Cecily pointed out softly, having regained her composure.
‘Thank you for saying that. I’ve tried to stay in the background.’
There was a moment of silence, and then Cecily said, ‘You have some dresses to try on, you know.’
‘Let’s lock up the record books and the documents, and then I will concentrate on my trousseau, I promise.’
FOURTEEN (#ulink_996d4a31-5d3f-5ec8-924a-3c9e9035bbe3)
Diedre enjoyed her early morning walk to Little Skell Manor, which took her through the park at Cavendon, past the lake where the two snow-white swans floated together in contentment.
She paused for a moment, watching the swans, remembering that they mated for life. If only she had been able to do that … She pushed sorrowful thoughts to one side, and moved along the path at a steady pace. Put the past behind you, she reminded herself.
At one moment, she lifted her head, glanced up at the sky. It was a clear blue on this sunny Saturday morning, and she hoped the good weather would last. She wanted it to be a perfect day tomorrow for her father’s marriage with Charlotte.
How glad she was he had taken this step at long last. There was not a single doubt in her mind that Charlotte would be a wonderful wife … she had actually been exactly that for many years, without the benefit of a legal document.
Diedre had felt the warmth and love of her father, Miles and her sisters last night at the family dinner. It had been like old times, and she had realized how much she had missed everyone.
Funny, she thought now, how we become so entangled in our everyday doings, consumed by our worries and problems. Selfish really, not giving a thought to others.
She aimed to make amends, to stay in touch with her sisters, most especially DeLacy. It struck her last night how fragile DeLacy was – nervous, on edge. At one moment after dinner she had asked Miles if their sister was all right. Miles had said DeLacy was unhappy about the divorce, yet could not live with Simon. Their married life had been full of terrible quarrels and violent upsets that had inevitably torn them apart in the end.
Diedre focused on Miles, who had also been unlucky in love. If he’d ever loved Clarissa, that is. Duty had been at the root. What rotten luck that Clarissa had not produced an heir. On the other hand, perhaps it was for the best. Miles had confided to her that he was going to seek a divorce. Far better in this situation that there were no children involved.
Daphne’s been the luckiest, Diedre thought, her mind suddenly settling on her sister’s adorable and beautiful children. As for Dulcie, she has her life ahead of her. I’m going to take her under my wing; I’m determined to make up for the way I treated her when she was a child, she muttered to herself. Deep inside she was still ashamed of the way she had behaved.
As she walked up the garden path to Great-Aunt Gwendolyn’s house, Diedre managed to empty her mind of these thoughts, and tried to concentrate on what she had to say.
One thing she did know, she could not waste her great-aunt’s time. She wouldn’t sit still for small talk, always needed to get to the heart of the matter. And immediately. Gwendolyn Ingham Baildon was blessed with great intelligence and practicality. Diedre thought she had the most wisdom of anyone in the family.
Lifting the brass hand-knocker on the front door, she banged it once. Almost instantly the door was opened to reveal Mrs Pine, Lady Gwendolyn’s long-time housekeeper, standing there.
Smiling, greeting her warmly, Mrs Pine led her through the front hall and into the parlour. This attractive room, filled with mellow antiques, comfortable sofas and chairs, had two large mullioned windows which overlooked the gardens. The gardens were beautiful; they had been lovingly cultivated by Harry Swann until he had become Miles’s right-hand man, learning estate management with him.
Her great-aunt was sitting on a sofa, waiting for her. ‘There you are, my dear,’ Lady Gwendolyn exclaimed. ‘Punctual as always. I do like that characteristic in people. Those who arrive late are thoughtless. They’re stealing one’s time, don’t you know.’
Diedre nodded. ‘That’s correct. And thank you for agreeing to see me this morning.’ She bent over and kissed her aunt’s cheek.
‘I’m happy to have a little private visit with you, Diedre. Do sit down, my dear, don’t hover.’
Taking a chair next to the sofa, Diedre said, ‘I’ve been informed by a very good friend, a trusted friend, that I have an enemy at the War Office. I was stunned when I heard this. My work has been excellent, and I’ve had promotions over the years. My friend said this enemy could prove dangerous to me.’
Lady Gwendolyn sat up straighter on the sofa and gave Diedre a penetrating look, her eyes narrowing slightly. ‘I don’t like the use of the word “dangerous”, Diedre. Dangerous in what way?’
‘I’m not sure. I think that whoever is against me wants me to be dismissed – pushed out, in other words.’
‘What exactly is it that you do at the War Office? No one seems to know, and you’ve been very wary about discussing it over the years. Which leads me to make the assumption you are in Intelligence. Is that so?’
Diedre leaned forward slightly and said in a low voice, ‘I am not allowed to discuss my work, Great-Aunt. But let me just say that I have never known you to be wrong about anything, and most especially in your assumptions.’
A twitch of a smile crossed Lady Gwendolyn’s face, and she nodded. ‘Now, do you have any indication who this enemy might be? Were you given a name? Or do you suspect anyone of wanting to harm you?’
‘The answer is a definite no to all of your questions. I was rather dumbfounded, actually, when I was told I had an enemy, someone who was out to make trouble for me. I’ve wracked my brains, and I haven’t been able to pinpoint anyone.’
‘Who was the person who informed you, may I ask?’
‘A very old friend, Alfie Fennell,’ Diedre answered. ‘And he was so sincere I believed him.’
‘Is he any relation to Sir Hubert Fennell?’ Lady Gwendolyn asked.
‘Yes. That’s his uncle.’
‘How did young Fennell get to know about this so-called enemy of yours?’ Lady Gwendolyn now asked.
‘Through Johanna Ellsworth. They are cousins. Neither have anything to do with the War Office. Alfie is a barrister, and Johanna does not work. She has a private income.’
‘It seems that your friend Johanna knew about this first and passed it on.’
‘She told Alfie she had heard a strange rumour about me, and she wanted him to alert me, even though she said it was only a rumour.’
‘I think you have to find out who told her.’
‘I did do some probing, and I know the right questions to ask. I gathered that it was just … out there.’
Lady Gwendolyn was silent for a moment before remarking, ‘You say you can’t think of anyone who might want to cause you trouble. But maybe it’s not someone … highly visible. Have you ever offended anyone, without realizing it? Have you rejected a would-be suitor who you didn’t know was a suitor? Is someone in competition with you?’
‘None of those things. At least, not that I know of. I just plough into my work every day and keep my head down.’
‘Have you told any of your colleagues at the War Office about this rumour?’
‘No, I haven’t. I thought it better not to say a word to anyone except you. Obviously, I know people there, and we’re friendly as colleagues, but I don’t have any bosom chums. Actually, I’m baffled at the mere idea of an enemy.’
‘How can I help you, Diedre?’
‘I’m not sure. Being able to talk to you about this helps a lot, because now I don’t feel so alone, coping with this problem.’ Diedre let out a small sigh, shook her head. ‘I thought you might know someone at the War Office, or in the government. But now, as I’m saying that, I know you can’t just start asking your friends who my enemy might be, now can you?’ Diedre began to laugh at her own absurdity, and so did Lady Gwendolyn.
After a few moments, Diedre added, ‘I suppose all I can do is just wait and see who tries to make trouble for me.’
‘That is true, my dear, in one sense. But I’m afraid I can’t just leave it at that. Let me think about this. I am going up to town next week. I have several engagements to fulfil, and who knows what I might find out as I circulate in Mayfair and Westminster with my friends.’
‘Thank you, Great-Aunt Gwendolyn, I do appreciate your help. I love my work …’ Diedre broke off as her voice started to quaver unexpectedly. She was on the verge of tears. Swallowing, promptly taking hold of herself, she continued, ‘The War Office is a huge part of my life, as you know. I’ve been there twelve years, and I love what I do. Without it I would be lost.’
‘I truly understand,’ Lady Gwendolyn murmured sympathetically, having always been aware that Diedre found great fulfilment in her work, and was dedicated to her professional life.
FIFTEEN (#ulink_0bbe1ea0-5a80-51f7-a66f-65c1836e88bc)
It was a weird and dubious story at best, and if anyone else had told her this strange little tale, Lady Gwendolyn would have doubted its veracity.
Since it was Diedre who had related it, though, she believed it was the truth. Her great-niece was honest and dependable, not given to flights of fancy.
Leaning back against the iron garden seat, gazing out at the flower garden, she relaxed, let her mind wander.
She knew nothing about Diedre’s work, other than that she was well thought of by the powers that be. Only today had Diedre strongly implied she was in Intelligence, which Lady Gwendolyn herself had long suspected but never mentioned to anyone. She was always cautious when it came to such things.
As the daughter of one of the foremost earls in the land, with a title in her own right, her niece mixed in the best of circles, was genuinely popular, and was on the invitation lists of everyone that mattered in London society.
There had never been any gossip about Diedre … no Chinese whispers. Lady Gwendolyn sat up with a start, frowning to herself, suddenly recalling Maxine Lowe, one of Diedre’s closest friends. She had been found dead in suspicious circumstances at her house in Mayfair, four years ago now.
At the time, Lady Gwendolyn had been annoyed when Diedre had been interviewed by Scotland Yard. But her worries immediately vanished when her great-niece told her that all of Maxine’s friends had been questioned by the police.
Diedre had then gone on to explain that the big boys at the Yard thought they might be looking at a murder; some agreed with this theory, others focused on the idea of suicide.
Then a different verdict altogether was announced by the coroner at the inquest. Maxine had indeed died from poisoning, and the substance ingested was arsenic. But the manner of death was declared to be undetermined. Leaving the verdict inconclusive in this way meant that the case was open to speculation; there had been a lot of talk about Maxine’s sudden death in the circles she had moved in – mainly high society and the artistic world. In the end, nothing ever came of the police investigation. Her death remained a mystery to this day.
Now Lady Gwendolyn focused on Diedre’s present problem, and her razor-sharp mind told her one thing … the rumour about Diedre being pushed out by the War Office had nothing to do with her personal life. She believed it had been started by a colleague with a grudge against Diedre.
Nothing else made sense, actually. Obviously there was someone who wanted Diedre out of the way. Jealousy, envy and ambition. A fatal combination. Malice, she said to herself. It’s driven by malice aforethought.
If you wanted to punish a person, the only way to do it without causing them bodily harm was to attack whomever or whatever they loved the most. Hit their vulnerable spot hard.
This might be another human being, such as a spouse, a child, a parent, siblings. Or a lover, perhaps. A person who could be physically damaged, maybe even killed. She dismissed the idea of a lover. Diedre had become very much a career woman. But she was beautiful, with her chic hairdo and lovely face, not to mention her stylish clothes.
Alternatively, a career that was relentlessly attacked could ultimately be totally destroyed forever, never to be rekindled.
These were the only two choices, as far as she was concerned. Hurt someone Diedre loved. Or destroy her career totally.
Discovering the identity of Diedre’s enemy was an imperative. Until they knew who it was, they would be whistling in the dark. Whom could Lady Gwendolyn turn to for help? Which of her friends had real power? Whom did she trust? And who would actually be willing to poke around for her?
The answer came to her immediately. Only someone in politics and someone with access to the top brass at the War Office.
Staring into the distance, she thought of those friends who were connected to politics. She knew Lucy Baldwin quite well, had been at her wedding to Stanley in 1892. But she could hardly go to the Prime Minister’s wife with this.
Winston. Of course! Not only was he a good friend, he had just the right temperament to get involved. He would relish it, in fact. But how could she ask him at this particular time? Once again, Winston Churchill was in the middle of the fray, dealing with the coal strike for Baldwin. Perhaps—
‘Excuse me, Lady Gwendolyn,’ Mrs Pine said, intruding on Lady Gwendolyn’s thoughts, coming down the steps into the garden. ‘Lady Lavinia is here. She apologizes for being early for lunch.’
Pushing herself to her feet, Lady Gwendolyn said, ‘That’s perfectly all right, Mrs Pine. I was just about to come inside anyway.’
Lavinia was waiting for her in the parlour; as she turned around to greet her aunt, Gwendolyn was struck by the tiredness etched on her niece’s face. ‘Are you feeling all right, Lavinia?’ Lady Gwendolyn asked. ‘You look a little under the weather, my dear.’
‘I’m tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.’ A faint smile lingered on Lavinia’s face as she followed her aunt across the room.
Sitting down in a chair opposite her, Lavinia went on, ‘I’m afraid the unexpected news that I was going to attend a wedding on Sunday – my brother’s wedding at that – rather startled me. It also upset me.’
Lady Gwendolyn simply nodded, made no comment. She had fully intended to chastise her niece over lunch today, for being rude to Charles yesterday. But now she changed her mind.
As she studied Lavinia’s face, she realized there was something else radically wrong with her. In fact, she thought her niece might be ill. She looked pale, wan, and her blonde beauty had faded somewhat. I’d better not chide her at this moment, she decided. ‘We were all surprised, except for Miles and Daphne, who knew about it all along. But I’m happy for Charles, and delighted he is marrying Charlotte.’
Staring at her aunt, raising a blonde brow, Lavinia exclaimed, ‘I know you are! And I must admit, I was taken aback yesterday when you voiced that opinion about this unfortunate union. He’s marrying out of his class. He’ll be ostracized.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ a voice exclaimed from the doorway.
Lavinia’s sister glided into the parlour.
Drawing to a halt next to her aunt, Vanessa said, ‘I’m not late, am I, Aunt Gwendolyn? Hello to you, Lavinia. I’m afraid you’re going to have to join the multitudes who are cheering on the sidelines. Otherwise you’ll be the one who is ostracized … you’ll be sent to Coventry.’ Bending over her aunt, she kissed her cheek, then seated herself on a nearby sofa.
Vanessa couldn’t help thinking how elegant and distinguished Lady Gwendolyn looked. Long ago her abundant blonde hair had turned to silver. Now it was pure white, and beautifully styled as usual. Her blue eyes sparkled brightly this morning and there was no hint that she was eighty-six. She looked much younger and was agile of mind and body.
Lady Gwendolyn smiled at Vanessa and glanced across at Lavinia. Two sisters entirely different in personality and character. She knew which one she had always preferred: Vanessa, liberal-minded, ready to accept people on face value, and in step with the times they were living in. The 1920s, not the 1800s.
Lavinia, throwing her sister an icy look, asked, ‘And what about you, Vanessa? When are we about to hear that you are finally getting married?’
Vanessa began to laugh. ‘Oh, I don’t know, I’m not sure I’m ready to do that yet,’ she answered casually, still laughing.
‘Is there a nice young man in your life, darling?’ Lady Gwendolyn asked. ‘And if indeed there is, who is he? I would love to know.’
‘His name is Richard Bowers, and he’s very nice. And the next time you come to London we’ll have dinner, or lunch – whichever you prefer, Aunt Gwendolyn.’
‘I’ll be up in town next week. We must meet. That would be lovely. Is he by any chance related to the Barnards?’
‘His mother Valerie is a Barnard,’ Vanessa answered. ‘I think you know her, Aunt.’
‘I do indeed. We’re acquaintances, but not close friends. She is a very nice woman.’
It was during lunch that Vanessa mentioned that Daphne had shown her the guest list for the wedding earlier. ‘I was happy to see Hugo’s cousin, Mark Stanton, is coming, and so is Paul Drummond. Also a number of—’
‘Who is Paul Drummond?’ Lavinia cut in, staring across the table at Vanessa. ‘I’ve never heard of him. He must be a new friend.’
‘No, actually he’s not. Paul Drummond is an American. He has worked with Hugo for many years,’ Vanessa explained. ‘Paul runs the New York end of Hugo’s business and, since he happens to be in London at the moment, Charles wanted him to come.’
‘An American! That explains it perfectly. I can assure you none of Charles’s close friends will be there. How could he invite them when he’s not marrying an aristocrat?’
Vanessa, appalled by Lavinia’s comment, said slowly in a firm tone, ‘Stop harping on about the aristocracy. It’s falling apart. It has been since the end of the war. Because of high taxes imposed by the government. No men to till the fields, run the factories or go down the mines. All dead on the blood-sodden fields of France – including our nephew, Guy. Half of Charles’s friends are busy trying to stay afloat, keep their stately homes running, and many are not succeeding. Do you really believe they’re concerned about Charles’s new wife? Not one iota. They’re trying to save their skins. So shut up about Charles marrying out of his class. I for one think you’re totally out of line.’
Lavinia sat back in her chair, gaping at Vanessa, astonishment washing over her face. For once in her life she was speechless, shaken by her sister’s verbal attack.
Seizing the moment, Vanessa continued, ‘Everyone said it was the war to end all wars. But what the Great War actually did was end the British Empire. Nothing is the same any more. England’s stony broke. The landed gentry are being diminished. The working man is looking for a fair deal. There was a General Strike, in case you didn’t notice, and the coal strike. The country’s spinning on its heels, and talk of a Depression is constant. And you’re going on about class. Just grow up, Lavinia. Join the world we’re living in today.’
Lavinia still remained speechless, even more shocked by her sister’s attitude and her angry words.
Lady Gwendolyn studied Vanessa, and then nodded. ‘Well put, my dear. I’m afraid I do have to agree with you.’ Focusing on Lavinia, she continued, ‘No one likes change, certainly not I, but times have indeed changed, Lavinia. And we must all change with them, keep in step. And that includes you.’
Lavinia had become paler than ever, and she replied in a low, slightly nervous voice, ‘Why are you both so annoyed with me? It’s the truth.’
There was a small silence. No one spoke. And then a moment later, Mrs Pine came into the dining room with the parlour maid, and they served the dessert.
Vanessa, wishing to change the subject, smiled at the housekeeper, and said, ‘I do love crème caramel, Mrs Pine. It’s my favourite.’
The housekeeper merely smiled and nodded.
Once they were alone again, Lady Gwendolyn sat up straighter in her chair, and peered at Vanessa and then at Lavinia. Both of them knew a pronouncement was coming and they sat perfectly still, not uttering a word or touching their food.
After a long moment, Lady Gwendolyn said in a steely voice, which was also as smooth as silk, ‘Because I am matriarch of this family, its oldest and most senior member, I can break the rules and make the rules.’ She paused, took a sip of water, and shifted slightly in her chair.
Her voice had a little less steel and more silk to it when she explained, ‘I am making a new rule. Since I am most approving of my nephew’s choice, this will be the last time a pejorative word will be uttered about Charlotte. Ever. By anyone. On Sunday she will become the Countess of Mowbray. She will be treated with the respect she deserves, and which she has actually earned through a life of devotion to this family. Charlotte has been a boon to us all. And frankly your brother would be dead by now if it were not for her.’
Still the sisters said nothing.
Lady Gwendolyn was fully aware that she had got her point across to them. Vanessa was at ease, whilst Lavinia looked shaken. Picking up her spoon, Lady Gwendolyn tasted the crème caramel, then she said quietly, scrutinizing Lavinia, ‘Are you all right, my dear? I hope my words haven’t upset you too much.’
‘No, not at all, Aunt Gwendolyn,’ Lavinia answered, her voice still low, but steady. ‘And I’m sorry if I offended you, Aunt. It won’t happen again. Surely you must know that I love my brother, and I do want what’s best for Charles.’ Lavinia stopped, took a deep breath, and finished. ‘I am fully aware that Charlotte is devoted to him, and we do owe her a lot.’
Lady Gwendolyn offered Lavinia a warm smile. ‘I am very glad to hear those sentiments.’
Wow! Vanessa thought, pushing down the laughter bubbling inside. Wow oh wow! I never thought I’d hear anything like this from Lavinia’s mouth. She’s always been jealous of Charlotte, ever since we were children growing up together. She was constantly in a sulk because Charles treated Charlotte like his best friend. And she hated it when they called each other Charlie.
SIXTEEN (#ulink_7fdb7fdc-2e2e-5875-8cbd-f0e120da68e0)
They had arranged to meet at the gazebo, situated halfway between Little Skell Manor and Charlotte’s house at the edge of the village. After lunch, once Vanessa and Lavinia had departed, Lady Gwendolyn set off to keep her appointment.
She walked slowly along the path, as usual wanting to savour the beauty of Cavendon. For her it was the one true place on this planet, the place she was happiest and most content.
Gwendolyn Ingham Baildon had been born at Cavendon, had grown up there. When she was twenty she had married Paul Baildon in the small church on the estate. She and Paul had had a wonderful ten years together, and then he had died, quite suddenly, after a botched operation for appendicitis.
It should not have happened. He had been far too young to die, and she had been devastated by the loss, as had everyone else. At thirty she had become a widow, and she had been a widow for fifty-six years. Paul had been buried in the cemetery alongside her ancestors, such a long time ago now.
They had never been lucky enough to have children, but the memories were there, to be recalled at will and mulled over … they were almost living things, so vivid in her mind and in her heart.
As she strolled along, Gwendolyn glanced around. The park at Cavendon was always beautiful, whatever the time of year, but today it was spectacular. It was a perfect July afternoon, the bright sun shining in the light blue sky, everything so green and verdant. The great oaks were ancient sentinels along the path, their thick branches forming canopies of dark leaves high above, offering cool shade in this warm weather.
Within minutes she saw the gazebo ahead. Charlotte was standing on the steps waiting for her. Charlotte Swann. A remarkable woman. She had known her since the day she had been born, fifty-eight years ago, and there was a certain closeness and friendship between them; they were comfortable with each other, but then Charlotte never overstepped the line, was never out of place, and Gwendolyn was open-minded and without an ounce of snobbishness in her character.
Charlotte, her face full of smiles, said, ‘Good afternoon, m’lady.’
‘Hello, Charlotte, my dear.’ Lady Gwendolyn took the hand being offered, and mounted the few steps.
After ushering her over to a white wicker chair, Charlotte said, ‘I’m glad you suggested meeting here. Cecily and Miles are still going over details for the weekend, and Mrs Alice is finishing my packing. I’m afraid it’s a bit busy at the house.’
‘I rather thought there would be quite a lot of activity around you, and this seemed the most suitable spot to meet for a quiet chat. We’ll be undisturbed.’
Charlotte sat down at the table. ‘What did you wish to speak to me about, Lady Gwendolyn?’
‘I’m sure Charles has already told you how delighted I was to hear his news at tea yesterday. However, I did want to tell you that myself, and to congratulate you. I’m very happy you are marrying Charles, Charlotte. I have something for you.’
Lady Gwendolyn opened her handbag and took out a package wrapped in blue silk and tied with white ribbon. She placed it in front of Charlotte.
A moment later, Charlotte found herself holding a brooch in her hands. It was made of gold, designed in the image of a swan. The gold was carved to look like feathers on a plump body, and around the swan’s long neck there was a narrow band of diamonds. The swan’s eyes were made of small sapphires, its beak formed of slivers of mother-of-pearl and ebony.
‘It’s beautiful, Lady Gwendolyn!’ Charlotte exclaimed. ‘Thank you so much. I can see it’s old.’
‘Very old, in fact,’ Lady Gwendolyn replied. ‘The worn box is obviously ancient. There’s no jeweller’s mark or name on the pin, or on the box, but it is so beautifully crafted it must have come from a fine shop.’
Charlotte nodded, touched by this gesture on Lady Gwendolyn’s part. Her eyes filled. After a moment, clearing her throat, she said, ‘I shall treasure it always.’ She glanced down at the brooch. ‘May I ask who gave it to you?’
‘My mother,’ Lady Gwendolyn answered without hesitation. ‘The brooch has been passed down for years. I decided you should have it. You’re about to become an Ingham, and you are a Swann. A fitting token from an old woman who thinks the world of you.’
Charlotte experienced another little rush of emotion. After a moment, she said, ‘You’ve always been so kind to me, Lady Gwendolyn, and you’ve never passed judgement on me.’
Staring at her, frowning, Lady Gwendolyn asked, ‘Because of your love for my brother? Is that what you’re referring to?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why would I judge you? You made David happy, gave him a new lease on life. And he loved you, Charlotte.’
‘He helped to make me who I am. He taught me so much, and he gave me a wonderful life.’ Charlotte laughed. ‘In secret, of course.’
‘I knew about the two of you,’ Lady Gwendolyn murmured. ‘I never said one word to anyone.’
‘Thank you for that.’
‘Stop thanking me, Charlotte. It is I who should be thanking you for all you’ve done for us. And I just want to add this … welcome to the Ingham family officially.’
Walking back to Little Skell Manor, Lady Gwendolyn chastised herself for not telling Charlotte the truth about the brooch. She had suddenly lost her nerve, if the truth be known. But she must know more of the story, she murmured to herself. And I will tell her when she comes back from her honeymoon.
If I haven’t died by then. This thought made her chuckle. I’ve no intention of dying just yet. I’ve too much damage to do, and I have to help Diedre find her enemy and make her problem go away.
SEVENTEEN (#ulink_f16a38f4-4bcb-50c0-831c-946286eddcfb)
Daphne sat at her desk in the conservatory, a room which had become her own over the years. No one else ever used it. She was making a last-minute check of the guest list for the engagement dinner that evening, and contemplating the placement of everyone at the two dinner tables.
Nodding her head, deciding that it could not be improved on, she sat back in the chair, sighing to herself, finally relaxing. It had been an extremely busy day, and she was relieved she had asked her father to cancel afternoon tea. The staff were overburdened as it was, and Hanson was all for it. Fortunately, her father had understood.
At the sound of footsteps on the terracotta-tiled floor, she turned around in her chair; her face lit up when she saw Peggy Swift coming towards her, carrying a tea tray. She was Peggy Lane now, having married Gordon Lane after the war, and was the mother of a little girl who was called Daphne, named for her.
‘I thought you might be in need of a nice cup of tea, Lady Daphne,’ Peggy said, placing the tray on the table next to the sofa. ‘You haven’t stopped for a minute today, so Hanson tells me.’
‘It has been busy, Peggy, and by the way, I must thank you for stepping into the breach this afternoon, coming in to help out. We really needed you. How is Mrs Thwaites?’
‘She’s all right, m’lady. Resting in her room. Hanson told me it’s not the first time she’s fainted lately. It’s happened before. She’s very dedicated to her job. Hanson says it’s probably just tiredness, nothing serious. But he’s told her she must go to the doctor on Monday.’
Standing up, Daphne walked over to the sofa. ‘I’m glad Hanson insisted on that. She’s not getting any younger, I’m afraid.’
‘Neither is Hanson, m’lady.’
Daphne glanced at her quickly. ‘Have you noticed something I haven’t, Peggy?’ she asked, worry creeping into her voice.
‘No, no, just making a casual comment, Your Ladyship. By the way, I’ve tried twice now to get hold of Olive Wilson, but there’s still no reply at Lady Felicity’s house – I mean Mrs Pierce’s house.’
‘Thank you, Peggy. Please try the number again later.’ Then Daphne’s blonde brows drew together in a frown, and she added, ‘Actually, I’m not sure there’s anyone at the house. My mother usually goes to Monte Carlo in the summer.’
‘I’ll try again, anyway,’ Peggy murmured. ‘Shall I pour you a cup of tea, Lady Daphne?’
‘Thank you, Peggy.’
‘Surely they’d have one staff member there, don’t you think, m’lady?’
‘I do indeed. The housekeeper.’
Peggy said, ‘That’s right, Your Ladyship, a house like that would never be left without a caretaker.’
Daphne watched her hurrying out, thinking what a lovely woman she had become. Her marriage to Gordon, now the senior footman, had been successful, and they were obviously happy together.
He had risen in the ranks of Cavendon after the war, and was a superb head footman, as well as a good right-hand man to Hanson. She relied on Gordon for many things, and he was willing to pitch in, clever in a variety of ways.
I’m glad we gave them the biggest cottage in the village, when it became vacant, Daphne now thought as she took a sip of the tea. And that we broke the rules and allowed Gordon to sleep in his own home. The arrangement has worked out well. Changing times have their assets, it seems.
Daphne’s thoughts slid back to her mother, and the missing jewels. She would get them back no matter what. She knew her father was worried about the stolen pieces. But she had pointed out that there was no way her mother could sell them. Every jeweller in London would know if they went on the market. The Ingham Collection was famous and well documented.
There was a little cough and a shuffling of feet. When Daphne glanced up, she saw her daughter Alicia hovering in the doorway, looking discontented.
‘Darling, why the long face? And do come in, don’t stand there.’ Daphne gave her a welcoming smile, struck by her glowing face despite the sulky expression. She could see the woman in the child, and she realized yet again that her daughter would grow up to be stunning, a true beauty.
The twelve-year-old girl, tall for her age, blonde and blue-eyed, came running in and stopped in front of her mother. She asked in a somewhat plaintive voice, ‘Am I going to be a bridesmaid or not, Mama?’
‘Of course you are, darling, I told you that last night, and we’ve already picked out a blue frock for you.’ Daphne threw her a puzzled look. ‘Why are you so upset?’
‘Charlie said it wasn’t true … about me being a bridesmaid. He said only the aunts were, and that you weren’t a bridesmaid either.’
‘I’m not, actually, I am the matron-of-honour, you see, because I am a married woman and no longer a maiden.’ Daphne shook her head. ‘He’s a scallywag, that brother of yours, he just loves to tease you.’
Daphne stood up, took Alicia in her arms, held her close. ‘You’ll be the most beautiful of us all. I know that.’
Alicia, who adored her mother, clung to her for a moment longer, and then stepped away, glanced up at her. ‘No, you’ll be the most beautiful, Mama. Everyone says you’re the great beauty of the Ingham family.’
‘Oh, they’re just prejudiced, my sweet,’ Daphne laughed.
Alicia’s troubled expression had dissolved. Eagerly, she asked, ‘Shall I tell Nanny she can iron the frock?’
‘Why don’t you do that, Alicia? I’ll see you shortly … for the moment I must continue my work.’
With a smile, Alicia skipped across the room, happiness obviously restored. Staring after her, Daphne felt a sudden glow inside. This child had turned out to be perfect. No, almost perfect, she corrected herself. I want her to be human, with a few naughty traits. There weren’t many, she had to admit that. She was a good girl, but sensitive at this age, and her brother did enjoy teasing her – too much at times.
Returning to her desk by the window, Daphne picked up the guest list, then put it down again. Almost at once, her mind strayed to her mother. The last time she had spoken to Olive Wilson, her mother’s maid had told her that Felicity was unhappy in the marriage.
When Daphne had asked her what had gone awry, Olive had fallen silent, glumly shaking her head, and had changed the subject.
‘We’re not intruding on your privacy, are we?’ Miles asked from the doorway, where he had suddenly appeared with Cecily.
‘You are,’ Daphne answered. ‘But come in anyway.’ She smiled at them and went on, ‘Cecily, you do look lovely. What a smart dress. But then you know that. You designed it. I’m wearing one of yours this evening, that lovely turquoise and green chiffon you made for me in May.’
‘It really suits you, Lady Daphne, and the colours are wonderful for you.’
‘Thank you, Cecily, that’s what my husband says.’
‘Can I look at the guest list?’ Miles asked, businesslike as he usually was.
‘Of course.’ Daphne held it out to him and spoke to Cecily again. ‘Tell me, how do you manage to stay cool and calm with so much going on around you? Cavendon has been in an uproar all day.’
Cecily, who had seated herself in a chair, smiled at Daphne. ‘I ignore it. Concentrate on whatever project I’m working on. I won’t allow anything to distract me.’
‘That’s probably one of the secrets of your great success in business,’ Daphne remarked, meaning this.
‘You can be sure of it,’ Miles interjected. ‘Focus, determination and desire to do it right. That’s always been Ceci’s rule, even when she was little.’
There was such admiration in his voice, Cecily was taken by surprise at this unexpected praise, and looked across at him. How weary he was, and depleted. Her heart went out to him. She had begun to understand how much he had suffered in the last few years. Harry had told her a lot last night, and she knew her brother spoke the truth.
Miles walked over to Daphne and sat down in a chair next to her, studying the list. ‘Who’s this Richard Bowers chap? His name rings a bell.’
A wry smile touched Daphne’s mouth. ‘He’s Aunt Vanessa’s current boyfriend. It’s serious. She told Papa they will be announcing their engagement soon. Apparently she had been intending to tell Papa about him this weekend, and so she asked if she could invite him to the wedding, to meet Papa before he went on his honeymoon. Our father agreed. What else could he do?’
‘So there’s going to be another wedding?’ Miles said.
‘Seemingly so, but listen, the two of you, what I’ve just told you is confidential. Vanessa doesn’t want to announce the engagement yet. He’s from the Barnard family, or rather his mother is, and Great-Aunt Gwendolyn knows her.’
‘I think I know him,’ Miles said. ‘He’s with the Foreign Office, a diplomat.’
‘No, that’s his brother, Clive. Dulcie told me that Richard is in the arts. I’m not sure what he does.’
Miles nodded, then murmured, ‘Ah, I see Mark Stanton is coming, and also Paul Drummond. I’m glad there are a few extra chaps. We can dance.’
‘Dance? What do you mean?’ Daphne asked, her voice rising in alarm.
‘I’ve booked a quartet to play after dinner.’
‘Miles, you didn’t! That’s so expensive,’ Daphne protested.
‘It’s all right, Daphers, I’m footing the bill. It’s … well, sort of my wedding present to Papa and Charlotte, and Cecily has offered to pay for the fireworks display.’
Daphne gaped at her brother. ‘You can’t be serious,’ she spluttered. Sudden anxiety echoed in her voice. ‘Papa and Charlotte wanted a small, very quiet wedding, no fuss. I’m sure this news will upset them.’
‘No, it won’t, you’ll see,’ Miles reassured her, sounding confident. ‘I have been inspired by Aunt Lavinia’s mean-spirited attitude. Cecily and I decided we needed to give the engagement dinner a little bit of a boost.’
‘It will give Aunt Lavinia a bit of a shock,’ Daphne exclaimed, and then laughed when she saw the look on her brother’s face. ‘She will certainly think that a fireworks display is vulgar.’
‘But it’s nicer than having a cream bun pushed in your mouth, don’t you think?’ Dulcie said as she walked into the conservatory.
Miles said, ‘She will be apoplectic when the fireworks start.’ As he looked from his sisters to Cecily, there was a wicked glint in his blue eyes.
Later that afternoon, when Daphne told Hugo about the quartet and the fireworks, he burst out laughing. She was so taken aback by his hilarity, she could only stare at him nonplussed.
Once he had stopped, she asked, ‘Why are you laughing? Papa and Charlotte won’t like it: dancing and fireworks and all the fuss. They wanted a quiet wedding.’
‘Yes, I know. Don’t worry, darling, I do believe your father is aware of Miles’s plans.’
Daphne frowned. ‘You think Miles has told Papa?’
Hugo nodded. ‘The other day Charles made an odd remark to me, about being a bit rusty for the dance floor. He then went on to say something about the villagers coming to the park on Saturday night. Before I could question him, we were interrupted by a very important call from New York. And then I forgot all about it. You know how I am when business intrudes.’
Daphne shook her head. ‘I wonder why Papa didn’t mention it to me? He usually consults with me on everything.’
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Barbara Taylor Bradford
‘If you’ve been suffering withdrawal symptoms from Downton, this is for you’ Daily MailA stately home. The roaring twenties. And four spirited girls who must forge a new future for themselves.On a summer weekend in 1926 the Ingham family gathers at the great house in Yorkshire that has been their family home for centuries. With them are the Swanns who have served them for generations – and know all their secrets.The estate is under threat: the aftermath of the Great War has left it facing ruin. Four young women from both sides of the house must shape its future – Daphne, fighting to modernise her ancestral home; Cecily Swann, flying high as a fashion designer in London; Deidre, the career girl, and Dulcie, the outspoken debutante. As the roaring twenties burn towards the Great Depression, nothing will ever be the same again…
Copyright (#ubce4fe8e-dbfc-5ec5-a2dc-e33a22ffab19)
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
The News Building
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2015
Copyright © Barbara Taylor Bradford 2015
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishersPublishers Ltd 2015
Cover photographs © Morgan Norman/Gallery Stock (front); Jill Battaglia/Trevillion Images (back).
Barbara Taylor Bradford asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN 9780007503261
Ebook Edition © October 2015 ISBN: 9780007503254
Version 2018-02-16
Dedication (#ubce4fe8e-dbfc-5ec5-a2dc-e33a22ffab19)
For Bob, with all my love always
Table of Contents
Cover (#ua11594f8-09c8-5ed8-9d8e-d872e974bdaf)
Title Page (#u29984afb-031e-5c24-a296-da1194b3ca8f)
Copyright (#ude42bc9e-65f8-530e-9ae3-c04d272c00c9)
Dedication (#ua48f464e-747f-5f93-8af4-0d1388b5a43b)
Characters (#ue2c69853-097f-5cb0-a703-0b292ae5317a)
Part One: A Family Reunion (#uccb36121-4259-575c-972d-bcccb89ca91b)
Chapter One (#u18671ab8-40a6-5c00-999e-4bba20469fc8)
Chapter Two (#u0c8e969d-3df5-54dc-995c-00897bb61963)
Chapter Three (#u3625a95d-6d0b-5c11-a671-4ac0a0a03f23)
Chapter Four (#ufe377608-75b1-5b54-8f29-c28a24e45cbf)
Chapter Five (#ue5f28b13-d761-5a1b-81c8-5986012bdeba)
Chapter Six (#u8d8d57ba-d7f2-5c2e-ba56-8b795424bc01)
Chapter Seven (#u2c918cfb-ff66-5865-8e1b-d4f3a1100eae)
Chapter Eight (#u0800ae2b-4ef1-5f90-8bf7-05f08e79c411)
Chapter Nine (#u5bfefcb3-0eb1-5fd3-9ec1-d31da8c0a710)
Chapter Ten (#u2120aaa4-cbdc-58a9-b34a-d159e3f5a50e)
Chapter Eleven (#u31e73ec3-b268-5ec6-b82c-216e481fac3d)
Chapter Twelve (#ue435d257-8b27-5562-b1b5-347eafc890eb)
Chapter Thirteen (#u40bbb0e1-6ad4-56f6-85fe-37ec7a16693d)
Chapter Fourteen (#u358bb99d-b9e8-5c5b-9104-b3f8f222e994)
Chapter Fifteen (#uce0faba2-9a09-5b69-8688-c51b627c1025)
Chapter Sixteen (#ub7c401aa-94cc-51dd-a4bd-ecc7ee33b46b)
Chapter Seventeen (#u585a99e9-969b-5732-90a6-d49880b1a894)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Part Two: Deceptions Revealed (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Part Three: Women Warriors (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Part Four: Angels in Disguise (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixty (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading (#litres_trial_promo)
Books by Barbara Taylor Bradford (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHARACTERS (#ubce4fe8e-dbfc-5ec5-a2dc-e33a22ffab19)
ABOVE THE STAIRS
THE INGHAMS IN 1926
Charles Ingham, 6th Earl of Mowbray, aged 57. Owner and custodian of Cavendon Hall. Referred to as Lord Mowbray.
Felicity Ingham, his ex-wife, the former Countess of Mowbray, aged 56. An heiress in her own right through her late father, an industrialist. Now remarried to Lawrence Pierce, a noted surgeon.
THE CHILDREN OF THE EARL AND FORMER COUNTESS
Miles Ingham, heir to the earldom, aged 27. He is known as the Honourable Miles Ingham, lives at Cavendon and is learning to run the estate. Married to Clarissa Meldrew.
Lady Diedre Ingham, eldest daughter, aged 33, living in London. She works at the War Office. Single.
Lady Daphne Ingham Stanton, second daughter, aged 30. She is married to Hugo Ingham Stanton. They live in the South Wing of Cavendon with their five children.
Lady DeLacy Ingham, third daughter, aged 25, living in London. Divorced from Simon Powers, and has reverted to her maiden name.
Lady Dulcie Ingham, fourth daughter, aged 18. She lives at Cavendon.
The four girls are still referred to affectionately as the four Dees by the staff.
The children of Lady Daphne and Mr Hugo Stanton are Alicia, aged 12; Charles, aged 8½; the twins, Thomas and Andrew, aged 5, and Annabel, aged 2.
OTHER INGHAMS
Lady Lavinia Ingham Lawson, sister of the Earl, aged 53. She lives at Skelldale House, on the estate, when in Yorkshire. She is mostly in London. She is now widowed. She was married to John Edward Lawson, known as Jack.
Lady Vanessa Ingham, the spinster sister of the Earl, aged 47, who has her own private suite of rooms at Cavendon, which she uses when in Yorkshire. She spends most of her time in London.
Lady Gwendolyn Ingham Baildon, the widowed aunt of the Earl, aged 86, who resides at Little Skell Manor on the estate. She was married to the late Paul Baildon.
The Honourable Hugo Ingham Stanton, first cousin of the Earl, aged 45. He is the nephew of Lady Gwendolyn, the sister of his late mother, Lady Evelyne Ingham Stanton. He is married to Lady Daphne.
BETWEEN STAIRS
THE SECOND FAMILY: THE SWANNS
The Swann family has been in service to the Ingham family for over one hundred and seventy years. Consequently, their lives have been intertwined in many different ways. Generations of Swanns have lived in Little Skell village, adjoining Cavendon Park, and still do. The present-day Swanns are as devoted and loyal to the Inghams as their forebears were, and would defend any member of the family with their lives. The Inghams trust them implicitly, and vice versa.
THE SWANNS IN 1926
Walter Swann, valet to the Earl, aged 48. Head of the Swann family.
Alice Swann, his wife, aged 45. A clever seamstress who takes care of the clothes and makes outfits for Lady Daphne and her daughters.
Harry, son, aged 28. A former apprentice landscape gardener at Cavendon Hall; he is now learning estate management and works with Miles Ingham.
Cecily, daughter, aged 25. She lives and works in London, where she has become a famous fashion designer, with three shops.
OTHER SWANNS
Percy, younger brother of Walter, aged 45. Head gamekeeper at Cavendon.
Edna, wife of Percy, aged 46. Does occasional work at Cavendon.
Joe, their son, aged 25. Works with his father as a gamekeeper.
Bill, first cousin of Walter, aged 40. Head landscape gardener at Cavendon. He is widowed.
Ted, first cousin of Walter, aged 51. Head of interior maintenance and carpentry at Cavendon. Widowed.
Paul, son of Ted, aged 27, working with his father as an interior designer and carpenter at Cavendon.
Eric, brother of Ted, first cousin of Walter, aged 46. Butler at the London house of Lord Mowbray. Single.
Laura, sister of Ted, first cousin of Walter, aged 39. Housekeeper at the London house of Lord Mowbray. Single.
Charlotte, aunt of Walter and Percy, aged 58. Retired from service at Cavendon. Charlotte is the matriarch of the Swann family. She is treated with great respect by everyone, and with a certain deference by the Inghams. Charlotte was the secretary and personal assistant to David Ingham, the 5th Earl, until his death.
Dorothy Pinkerton, née Swann, aged 43, cousin of Charlotte and the Swanns. She lives in London and is married to Howard Pinkerton, a Scotland Yard detective. She works with Cecily at Cecily Swann Couture.
CHARACTERS BELOW STAIRS
Mr Henry Hanson, Butler
Mrs Agnes Thwaites, Housekeeper
Miss Susie Jackson, Cook (niece of Nell, who has retired)
Mr Gordon Lane, Head footman
Mr Ian Melrose, Second footman
Miss Jessie Phelps, Head housemaid
Miss Pam Willis, Second housemaid
Miss Connie Layton, Third housemaid
Mr Tim Hartley, Chauffeur
OTHER EMPLOYEES
Miss Margaret Cotton, the nanny for Lady Daphne’s children, usually addressed as Nanny or Nan.
Miss Nancy Pettigrew, the governess, usually addressed as Miss Pettigrew. The governess is not at Cavendon in the summer. The children are not in school.
THE OUTDOOR WORKERS
A stately home such as Cavendon Hall, with thousands of acres of land, and a huge grouse moor, employs local people. This is its purpose for being, as well as providing a private home for a great family. It offers employment to the local villagers, and also land for local tenant farmers. The villages surrounding Cavendon were built by various earls of Mowbray to provide housing for their workers; churches and schools were also built, as well as post offices and small shops at later dates. The villages around Cavendon are Little Skell, Mowbray and High Clough.
There are a number of outside workers: a head gamekeeper and five additional gamekeepers; beaters and flankers who work when the grouse season starts and the Guns arrive at Cavendon to shoot. Other outdoor workers include woodsmen, who take care of the surrounding woods for shooting in the lowlands at certain times of the year. The gardens are cared for by a head landscape gardener, and five other gardeners working under him.
The grouse season starts in August, on the Glorious Twelfth, as it is called. It finishes in December. The partridge season begins in September. Duck and wild fowl are shot at this time. Pheasant shooting starts on 1 November and goes on until December. The men who come to shoot are usually aristocrats, and always referred to as the Guns, i.e., the men using the gun.
PART ONE (#ubce4fe8e-dbfc-5ec5-a2dc-e33a22ffab19)
A Family Reunion (#ubce4fe8e-dbfc-5ec5-a2dc-e33a22ffab19)
July 1926
‘The little world of childhood with its familiar surroundings is a model of the greater world. The more intensively the family has stamped its character upon the child, the more it will tend to feel and see its earlier miniature world again in the bigger world of adult life.’
Carl Jung, The Theory of Psychoanalysis (1913)
ONE (#ubce4fe8e-dbfc-5ec5-a2dc-e33a22ffab19)
Cecily Swann knew it well, this path. She had walked it all of her life, and it was an old familiar. Lifting her head, she looked up at the grand house towering above her on top of the hill. Cavendon Hall. One of the great stately homes of England, it was the finest of all in Yorkshire.
The house was her destination this morning, as it had been so often when she was growing up. Her parents and her brother Harry lived in Little Skell village, at the edge of Cavendon Park, just as their ancestors had done. For over one hundred and seventy years, in fact.
It was a lovely Friday morning in the middle of July, and there was no hint of rain today. The sunshine streamed down, bathing the house in that crystalline northern light which gave the exterior its soft, peculiar sheen at different times of day.
Cecily glanced about as she walked on. She had half expected to see Genevra loitering here. But there was no sign of the gypsy girl. The Romany wagons were visible on the hill at the far end of the fields; Genevra’s family still lived on the 6th Earl’s land – that was a given. He had always permitted it; she supposed they would stay there forever.
But so much else had changed. Cavendon Hall looked the same, but it wasn’t what it used to be. It was a different place; in fact, many things were different now. The Great War had changed everything. And everyone. As her father, Walter, was forever saying, the good old days were over, and nothing would ever be the same again. And his words were only too true.
Thankfully, her father and her brother had come back safely from the Great War, but Guy Ingham, the heir to the Mowbray earldom, had not. He had died for his country fighting in France, and was buried there alongside his comrades in arms.
They had all mourned him, every person in the three villages around Cavendon, as well as his family. Not because he was the heir, but because he had been one of the nicest of young men. Now it was Miles who would one day inherit the earldom and everything that this entailed.
Miles Ingham.
Her heart tightened at the thought of him. He had been her constant companion throughout her childhood, her best friend and later her sweetheart. She had loved him with all of her being; she still did. And he had told her many times that he felt the same, and that one day they would be married. But that had not happened.
Miles had been forced to marry another girl. A suitable girl. Clarissa Meldrew, the daughter of Lord Meldrew. The right kind of girl, who would give Miles an aristocratic heir. That was the way it was with the gentry: future heirs dominated their lives and their destinies.
Cecily came to a stop as a sudden thought struck her. After a moment, she veered to her left and headed in the direction of the rose garden. She needed a few moments to think, and anyway she was too early for her meeting.
A few seconds later, she was pulling open the heavy oak door and going down the steps. It was a fragrant spot, this old walled garden, filled with the scent of late-blooming roses. She breathed in the heady smell as she sat down on a wrought-iron garden seat. This spot had always been a haven of peace and beauty.
Holding herself completely still, she closed her eyes, wondering why she had agreed to do this – to help Miles manage the events planned by the Earl for the family reunion. It was probably the most stupid thing she had ever done in her life.
Only if you are stupid, she told herself. Obviously Aunt Charlotte thinks you are capable of handling a difficult situation, or she wouldn’t have asked you to help out.
Her aunt’s voice echoed in her mind as she went back to the discussion they’d had a week ago. She remembered her aunt’s words very well. ‘Lady Daphne is the only one capable of managing the weekend with Miles, but she has so much on her hands, what with running Cavendon and five children underfoot. I personally would appreciate it if you would help him, Ceci.’
She thought now of the way she had tried to wriggle out of it, not liking the idea at all. She had muttered something about one of his other sisters being better at that job. But her aunt had batted her objections away with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘There might be difficulties, Ceci, and we need someone strong like you. Someone who can be tough, if needs be.’
Well, she could be tough, she knew that. But mostly she would have to be tough with herself. And with Miles Ingham.
She had not had a conversation with him for the last six years. They’d spoken, the odd times they had run into each other, here at Cavendon, or waved, but that was all. Six years ago she had vowed never to let him near her again, and her aunt had nodded her approval when she had confided in Charlotte.
‘I’ll walk alone and devote myself to my career as a fashion designer,’ Cecily had said, and Charlotte had looked pleased, and relieved. Unexpectedly, Charlotte had asked her to help Miles out now, and it puzzled Cecily. Actually she had no choice.
Cecily sighed, and sat up straighter. She owed Charlotte Swann everything. It was her aunt who had backed her fashion business, presented her with her first shop in the Burlington Arcade, made her career possible. And it was Charlotte’s money which had originally funded the venture. They became business partners, and they still were, and worked extremely well together.
She trusts me to handle myself correctly, Cecily decided. She knows I won’t succumb to his charms, become involved with him on a personal level. She understands that the pain he caused me runs far too deep. Besides, she’s fully aware I’m devoted to my business, that it’s my life.
Standing up, Cecily walked out of the rose garden, and went on up the hill towards the house. She felt better. She could handle Miles Ingham. She wasn’t afraid of him. She wasn’t afraid of anyone, for that matter.
In the past six years she had learned to be truly independent, to stand on her own two feet, and to make her own decisions. Furthermore, she was a big success. Women loved her clothes; they bought them by the cartload. And not only in London, but in America as well. Already, she had made two trips to New York, and her name was well known on both sides of the Atlantic.
Miles had his problems. And so did Cavendon.
Her future was full of brightness and challenge, and – with a little luck – even more success. Miles Ingham was part of the past. Her eyes were focused on the future.
She would help him out this weekend, and then she would go back to London and get on with her work, and leave Miles to his own devices. There was no place in her life for him. She would never forget that day, six years ago, when he had told her he was getting married to another woman. He had broken her heart, and she would never forgive him.
TWO (#ubce4fe8e-dbfc-5ec5-a2dc-e33a22ffab19)
Miles Ingham bent down, picked up the small pieces of cork, and placed them on the mantelshelf, next to the carriage clock. Only Miss Charlotte knew how to properly wedge them behind the two horse paintings by George Stubbs, so that they would not slip. She had been doing it for years, and no one else had managed to master the technique.
Turning, he walked over to his father’s desk and sat down, staring at the list he had made earlier. All were points he wanted to take up with Cecily, regarding the next few days.
Cecily Swann.
He longed to see her, to talk to her, to just be near her. And yet, at the same time, he dreaded it. For years she had been merely civil to him whenever they ran into each other here at Cavendon.
Her demeanour had been so remote, so cold, he had been unable to breach those icy walls she had erected around herself. She had frozen him out, and he fully understood why. He had hurt her immeasurably, and the hurt had never healed. It was an open wound.
This now presented a problem, since they did have to be cordial with each other for several days in order to carry off this unusual family reunion. He had realized, the other day, that he must come up with a modus operandi, and it had to be one she found acceptable.
Sighing to himself, he jumped up, suddenly overcome by nerves. He paced up and down the library, attempting to get a grip on his flaring emotions. She would be arriving at any moment, and he had no words ready, nothing formulated in his mind, no greeting prepared for her. He was also at a loss about the days ahead, and how they would manage them.
There had been a moment last week when he’d begun to wish his father hadn’t decided to invite the family home for a weekend visit.
On the other hand, there hadn’t been any parties or get-togethers at Cavendon for the longest time. Nothing to celebrate, what with the family’s money problems, the loss in the Great War of men who had worked their land, the scandal surrounding his mother, which they all tried to ignore. And then there was DeLacy’s worrying depression about her divorce, not to mention Hugo’s huge financial losses on the New York Stock Exchange.
And what a mess his own life was. Miles was acutely aware that he had no life, actually. He had grown to detest Clarissa, who, he had swiftly understood, was dense beyond words, a spendthrift whose only conversation was about clothes, cosmetics and jewels. All of which bored him. And she was a gossip. She loved to talk about her friends, and she wasn’t always nice about them. He despised her for her mean comments about other women.
He had also come to dislike her father, Lord Meldrew. He overindulged his only child, giving Clarissa anything her heart desired. That in itself had created a rift between them; he loathed spoiled women, and she was particularly greedy.
Miles had long accepted that he was saddled with a dud of a wife; and, worst of all, one who had been unable to conceive.
He was still without that much-longed-for heir. Not only had she proved to be barren but, much to his dismay, she had soon developed an aversion to Cavendon Hall, and would not come to Yorkshire.
‘Not a country girl at heart,’ she had informed him, fairly early on in their marriage. What marriage? he now wondered, and strode over to the window, gazing out across the terrace, looking towards the park.
A moment later he stiffened. Cecily was coming up the terrace steps and every thought in his head fled. He felt as if he had a tight band around his chest, and for a moment he could hardly breathe. Then he swallowed, took firm hold of his emotions, and went to open the terrace doors.
He was stunned by her loveliness as she came towards him: the richness of her luxuriant hair with its russet lights, her ivory skin, her smoky-grey lavender eyes, which told the world she was a Swann born and bred. They all had those eyes.
Cecily was wearing a white dress, trimmed and belted in navy blue, and yet it was loose, casual, the silk skirt floating around her long legs.
Finding his voice, he said, ‘Hello, Cecily.’ His heart was pounding in his chest and he was genuinely surprised that his voice wasn’t shaking. To his relief, he sounded quite normal. ‘Thank you for coming.’
She simply nodded, and took hold of his outstretched hand. Shaking it, she dropped it instantly, and stepped back. Giving him a cool glance, she murmured, ‘I hope this weather lasts for the next few days.’ Her voice was soft, calm.
‘Yes, so do I,’ he agreed, and was then unexpectedly tongue-tied. Putting one hand under her elbow, he ushered her across the terrace, into the library, and closed the door behind them.
Cecily immediately gravitated to the fireplace, as almost everyone usually did. This room was always cold, even in the summer months.
‘I want to apologize,’ Miles announced, as he quickly followed her across the room.
‘What for?’ she asked a little sharply.
‘Being remiss … never congratulating you over the last six years. For your fantastic success as a fashion designer, I mean. You’ve done so well, wonderfully well, and I want you to know how thrilled I am about that. And I’m very proud of you.’ Miles cleared his throat, added, ‘I did attempt to write to you, but every time I started a letter, I threw it away. I couldn’t quite get the words right. And, anyway, I thought a letter from me might annoy you.’
‘Yes, it might have done, under the circumstances.’
Cecily sat down in a chair near the fire. As she settled herself, straightening the skirt of her dress, she couldn’t help thinking that Miles didn’t look well. He had lost weight, and there was a curious gauntness about him, as well as an aura of sadness. This was particularly apparent in his blue eyes, and she felt for him, knew he’d had a hard time.
Following her lead, he went over to the sofa and seated himself opposite her. In a low voice, he said, ‘I have a list of things I’d like to go over with you, about Saturday and Sunday, but first I need to discuss something else.’
Cecily’s eyes were focused on him, and she nodded. ‘Please, tell me what’s on your mind.’
‘It’s about our attitude towards one another. We’ve been civil when we’ve run into each other over the years. But that’s all. And I do understand why. However, it’s going to be a bit awkward for the next few days, if we’re unfriendly, especially in front of the family. Don’t you agree?’
‘Yes. It’s occurred to me that my antagonism towards you could present a problem, and I suppose I must mend my ways.’
‘And so must I, Cecily.’ A faint smile flickered on his mouth, and he added, ‘It struck me yesterday that we might be able to slip back into the past; maybe we could behave like we did then. We had fun, we were happy.’
When she remained silent, he said, ‘Well, we did have fun, and we were happy.’
‘That’s true, but I hope you don’t think that I’m going to go up to the attics with you and revisit our “love nest”, as you used to call it.’
She had said this so solemnly, and her face was so serious, Miles burst out laughing, surprising himself; it was the first time he had laughed in months. ‘Of course not,’ he spluttered. After a moment, he contained his hilarity. ‘I’m speaking about our demeanour,’ he explained.
Cecily had managed to remain poker-faced, although there had been a moment when she had almost laughed with him. But she wasn’t going to give him an inch. Not ever.
Eventually, she answered, ‘I think if we try to erase the last few years, and remember our youthful friendship, it will work. I will try hard, because we must make this a perfect celebration for Lord Mowbray.’
‘Thank you, Ceci, I knew you’d see the sense of striking a bargain.’
‘More like a compromise, I think, Miles,’ she answered stiffly.
Ignoring her iciness, he shifted slightly on the sofa, and went on, ‘There is just one thing I want to explain, something you should know.’
His voice had changed, was now extremely serious, and she glanced at him swiftly. Knowing him as intimately as she did, she was positive he was about to say something of genuine importance.
‘Tell me then.’ Her gaze was level, steady, as she looked across at him.
‘I’m going to London next week. I haven’t been for ages, and I shall ask Clarissa for a divorce.’
Cecily had not anticipated anything like this, and she was shocked. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, ‘But what will the Earl say?’
‘Papa knows the marriage hasn’t worked. We are not compatible in any way. Clarissa hates the country; furthermore, she has never conceived. She hasn’t given me an heir, and this troubles my father as much as it has upset me. And it won’t happen now, because we have been separated for some time.’
When she made no response, he said, ‘But then you know that. Because you’re a Swann, and the Swanns know everything about the Inghams.’
‘Not always everything,’ she remarked. ‘But yes, it’s true, I did know that your marriage was not happy, Miles. Great-Aunt Charlotte told me. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.’
‘So am I,’ he mumbled. ‘In view of the sacrifices I made.’
‘I know,’ was all she said, thinking about the sacrifices she had been forced to make as well. But this was best left unsaid.
Miles continued, ‘I shall make Clarissa a generous offer – alimony, the house in Kensington my father gave us for a wedding present. But I’m not at all sure she’ll agree to a divorce.’
A frown brought Cecily’s brows together, and she asked in a puzzled voice, ‘But why not? She’s young enough, and pretty; she could get married again. And consider what she would bring to a new marriage. Alimony, and a lovely house.’
‘The alimony would cease if she remarried, but she would keep the house. However there’s a problem, you see.’
‘What is it?’
‘She wants to have a title, to be a countess, and so she’ll try to cling on. When Papa had his heart attack last year, there were moments when I thought she was positively gleeful, anxiously waiting for him to pop off and clear the way for me. And for her, of course.’
‘But how awful that is, Miles! Horrid.’ Cecily sounded aghast.
‘You’re telling me! It was preposterous, especially since we were separated by then. But I shall win, I’m quite certain. Papa has spoken to his solicitor, and the way through this is for me to take the blame, provide evidence of adultery, so that she can sue me for divorce. If she won’t agree to that, I might well have to divorce her. According to Mr Paulson, Papa’s solicitor, I do have grounds. Not of adultery, but of abandonment. You see, she packed all of her things and left me here at Cavendon. In other words, she left the marital home.’
Cecily leaned back in the chair, thinking of the last six years. For Miles they had been wasted. But for her they had been productive, because she had started her fashion business, and it was thriving, making money.
‘Penny for your thoughts,’ Miles said quietly, watching her carefully.
‘I was thinking of all the years you lost,’ she murmured, as honest as usual.
‘I know. On the other hand, I did learn a lot about agriculture, livestock, the land, the grouse moor, running the estate. And I keep on learning.’ He leaned forward and looked at her intently. ‘When I’m finally free, divorced from Clarissa, would there be any chance for me?’
‘What do you mean exactly?’ she asked, her mouth suddenly dry, a feeling of alarm running through her.
‘You know very well what I mean. But I’ll spell it out, clarify it. Is there a chance for me with you, Ceci?’
Cecily was not surprised by this question, because she knew he still loved her, just as she loved him. Nothing would ever change their feelings. There would never be anyone else for her, and she knew he felt the same way. But he was different in one thing. He was the heir to an earldom, and his father would most decidedly want an aristocrat for a new daughter-in-law. Not an ordinary girl like her. DeLacy had pointed that out to her six years ago, when she had blurted out that Miles was getting engaged to an aristocrat. ‘He could never marry an ordinary girl like you,’ DeLacy had said, and she had never forgotten those words.
‘You’re not answering me,’ Miles said, his blue eyes suddenly filled with love for her. That awful sadness was now expunged.
The way he was gazing at her, his face full of yearning, touched her deeply. His expression was signalling so much to her, and it reflected what she had felt for years. She said slowly, ‘When I was twelve, you proposed to me and I accepted. But we were too young. When I was eighteen you proposed again and I accepted. However, you married another woman. What are you saying to me now, Miles? Third time lucky?’ An eyebrow lifted quizzically.
He nodded, and a smile broke through his gravity. ‘Yes, third time lucky indeed! So you will marry me when I am divorced?’ He sounded excited, and his voice was lighter, suddenly younger.
‘I don’t know,’ she replied. ‘Actually, I don’t think so. I’ve changed in many ways, and so have you.’ She paused, took a deep breath. ‘But the situation hasn’t. I’m still an ordinary girl. I can’t make that kind of commitment to you now, Miles, nor should you to me.’
‘You still love me, Cecily Swann. Just as much as I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you, and you know that.’ He sat back, a reflective look crossing his face, and then he said in a low, tender voice, ‘We belong to each other, and we have since we were children.’
She was silent, her face wiped clean of all expression. But inside her heart clenched. She wanted to say yes to him, to tell him she did belong to him, but she did not dare. She could not expose herself to him. Because it was his father, the Earl of Mowbray, who would ultimately have the final word in the end, not Miles.
Almost as if he had read her mind, Miles announced, ‘First things first, Ceci. I must get my freedom, and then we will talk again and sort everything out. Will you agree to that?’
Cecily could only nod.
Miles said, ‘Now, let’s get down to the business of the next few days, the events. This is what I thought we should do about Saturday evening.’
He began to outline the initial plans, but inwardly he smiled. He was going to have Cecily for himself, whatever she believed. The Ingham men and the Swann women were irresistible to each other, and he and she were no exception. It was meant to be.
THREE (#ulink_c8117d41-4f72-5bd0-a6e2-ce04a422ac77)
It was a wonder, this garden, with its low privet hedges in front of the raised banks of glorious flowers. So beautiful, in fact, it took her breath away.
A smile of pleasure crossed Charlotte Swann’s face, and she felt a rush of pride. Her great-nephew, Harry, had created this imaginative effect in the pale green sitting room of the South Wing.
It reminded her of the indoor garden she herself had designed for this same room, some years before. Thirteen years, to be exact, and she had built it for the main summer event that year, the annual supper dance, to which the aristocracy of the county was invited.
The evening had been memorable in every way, and Lady Daphne had stunned everyone with her incomparable beauty, wearing a gown of shimmering blue-green beads the colour of the sea. Everyone had talked about it for weeks, and Charlotte had never forgotten how she’d looked.
Her mind still on Harry, Charlotte suddenly thought what a pity it was he’d had a change of heart. He was such a gifted gardener, with a great eye for form and colour, and his gardens outside were works of art, in her opinion.
Unfortunately, he had lost interest in being a landscape gardener. Instead he wanted to be an estate manager, relishing the idea of working with Miles and learning from Alex Cope, who had replaced Jim Waters as estate manager at Cavendon two years ago.
Harry’s rebellion had taken place at the beginning of the year, and it had shaken his father, Walter, who had felt betrayed when he realized his son was contemplating leaving Cavendon.
His mother, Alice, hadn’t been quite so surprised. She had known from the moment Harry had returned from the Great War that he had been changed considerably, affected by the brutality and wholesale killing he had witnessed at the front.
All the returning soldiers had been changed by their experiences, even her husband. While Walter was more contemplative, her son had acquired an independent attitude, become quite ambitious for himself; he felt he was owed something by society.
It was Cecily who had asked Charlotte to intervene, and she had. It had taken only a few words with Lord Mowbray, and then Alex Cope, for her to help Harry up the Cavendon ladder.
‘Is it all right, then?’
Charlotte jumped, startled at the sound of Harry’s voice. She swung her head. He was leaning casually against the door frame, a quizzical look on his face.
‘More than all right,’ she answered. ‘It’s beautiful. Harry, you’ve outdone yourself.’
‘I think I inherited what bit of talent I have from you, Aunt Charlotte.’
‘Oh, you’re a much better gardener than I am, a true professional, and it was good of you to take the time and trouble to create it. Thank you, Harry.’
‘It was my pleasure, and my way of saying thank you to you for helping to sort things out with Dad,’ he answered, and strolled into the room. ‘I’d like to ask you something …’ He stopped, became hesitant, as if changing his mind. He let his sentence trail off, stood silently next to her chair, obviously at a loss.
She looked up at him, thinking what a handsome young man he was. At twenty-eight he was tall, like his father, and had inherited the striking Swann looks, his features chiselled, the thick hair the same russet brown as hers. He even had her greyish eyes with that odd tint of lavender peculiar to the Swanns.
‘Is there something wrong, Harry?’ she asked. ‘You seem worried.’
‘Not worried, just curious, I suppose. I’ve been wondering why you asked Ceci to help Miles? With the upcoming events tomorrow, and on Sunday. Couldn’t he have teamed up with one of his sisters?’
She shook her head. ‘Daphne is too busy, Dulcie too young, DeLacy too depressed. As for Diedre, she’s far too intellectual for such mundane matters like arranging events for a family get-together. Ceci was my only choice, because I think he needs back-up.’
‘Poor Miles. I feel sorry for him, working with my sister. He’ll get frostbite.’
Charlotte laughed, shaking her head. Harry’s tone had a pithy edge, but then he always had an appropriate retort on the tip of his tongue.
‘I did have another reason though,’ Charlotte now volunteered.
‘I thought as much,’ Harry answered. ‘He’s so worn out and damaged. Miles needs some kindness. And Ceci will be kind to him, even though I know that deep down she’s still angry.’
Charlotte eyed Harry, thinking how astute he was at times. But then he knew his sister well, and he and Miles had been friends since boyhood, had grown up here.
‘It did strike me I might be playing a dangerous game, getting them together,’ she said. ‘But then I realized they are both adults. Grown up enough to handle themselves, and their problems.’
‘I agree.’ He moved away, went to look at the flower beds, took a dead head off a bloom, put it in his pocket. Without looking at his aunt, he murmured, ‘You’re expecting some sort of trouble, aren’t you?’
‘To be honest, I’m not sure. A lot of mutterings and dire warnings perhaps, nothing we can’t cope with. On the other hand, I thought it better to be prepared. And there’s nobody like Cecily, when it comes to taking control of a difficult situation. Also, she can be neutral, very calming and rational. I’ve always told her she would’ve made a good diplomat – she’s a really good negotiator, you know.’
‘Who’s a good negotiator?’ Lady Dulcie asked from the doorway, and walked into the room, looking beautiful in a primrose-yellow summer dress. At eighteen she was very much the same person she had been as a child: outspoken, with a quick, facile tongue. She was no longer afraid of Diedre, but cautious around her eldest sister, and automatically wary. Self-confident, sure of herself socially, she had a superior intelligence.
To Dulcie, Charlotte was like a mother; she had brought her up, alongside Nanny Clarice, and with Daphne’s help. These three women had been the biggest influences in her life.
Gliding across the room, her face filled with smiles, Dulcie went straight into Charlotte’s outstretched arms. The two women hugged, and then stepped apart.
Charlotte said, ‘It’s lovely to see you, I’m so glad you’re back. I’ve missed you. London was nice though, wasn’t it?’
‘It was, Miss Charlotte, and I really enjoyed staying with Aunt Vanessa. She helped me so much with my art history studies, but I’m very happy to be home.’ Glancing at Harry, whose eyes had never left her, she blushed slightly as she said, ‘Hello, Harry, it’s nice to see you.’
He inclined his head, his face also full of happiness. ‘Welcome back, Lady Dulcie,’ was all he managed to get out. Inevitably, he became tongue-tied when the Earl’s youngest daughter was present. She was so beautiful, he became lightheaded whenever he was in her company. He adored her, secretly yearning to know her better.
Charlotte took charge. ‘Look at the beautiful garden Harry’s created, Lady Dulcie. For the dinner tomorrow evening. It’s superb, isn’t it?’
‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ Dulcie answered. Turning to Harry, she added, ‘Congratulations, you’re a true artist.’ Then she laughed. ‘I remember now, I did see one like it years ago, when I was about five. I barged in here, all covered in chocolate, just before the big dance was about to start.’
Charlotte smiled, remembering this incident herself. She hadn’t been present, but she had certainly heard all about it the next day.
‘Apparently none of the ladies was able to come near you, since you were covered in that chocolate. At least, so I was told. They were afraid of the chocolate getting on their gowns.’
Dulcie grinned, then asked, ‘Where’s Daphne? Do you know, Miss Charlotte? I haven’t been able to find her.’
‘I’m sure she’ll be back in the conservatory by now. She told me she was going there to check on all her seating plans.’
‘Then I shall go there. Once you’ve told me who the good negotiator is.’
‘Why Cecily, of course,’ Charlotte answered.
FOUR (#ulink_a53f7b22-6c7f-58f7-825a-3ad15ff575cb)
‘Welcome back, darling,’ Daphne said, as Dulcie rushed across the conservatory, and flung her arms around her favourite sister. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she added, and then held Dulcie away, staring at her intently. ‘More beautiful than ever,’ she pronounced.
‘No, no, no, you’re the renowned beauty of this family,’ Dulcie exclaimed, and went on swiftly, ‘I couldn’t get here quickly enough, I’ve so much to tell you. And mostly about Felicity.’
Daphne nodded, and guided Dulcie over to the wicker loveseat, where they sat down. Ever since their mother had left Cavendon, Dulcie only ever referred to her as Felicity, never Mama. Sometimes she even referred to her as ‘that woman who abandoned me’, and had a string of ridiculous and rather nasty nicknames for her.
Daphne understood why. Felicity had been too preoccupied with her sister’s fatal illness, and her own personal problems, to pay too much attention to Dulcie when she was little, and the child had never forgiven her. Now that she was a young woman, that animosity still lingered.
Settling herself on the loveseat, Daphne said, ‘So, tell me everything, I’m all ears.’
‘I’ve been informed that Felicity is going to throw out Lawrence Pierce, that knife-wielding maniacal quack – and, by the way, that’s not the only thing he wields. From what I understand, he’s quite the womanizer, wielding his manhood everywhere.’
Dulcie sat back next to her sister and waited for a reaction, her eyes fixed on Daphne’s face.
Daphne burst out laughing, as always genuinely amused by Dulcie’s extraordinary use of language. Their father constantly said she had a unique way with words and should have been a writer, and Daphne thought the same thing.
‘Who told you this?’
‘Margaret Atholl’s mother,’ Dulcie answered. ‘Lady Dunham. She also said there’s a rumour that the marriage is unhappy, and Felicity is planning to return to Cavendon. She won’t come back, will she, Daphers? I couldn’t bear to have that greedy, man-hungry creature here. Papa wouldn’t fall for her again, would he?’
Shaking her head, the laughter bubbling inside her, Daphne answered, ‘She won’t even attempt it. And certainly Father is not interested in her one iota. This is just idle gossip you’ve heard. However, perhaps she is going to throw the surgeon out. I, too, have heard stories about his behaviour.’
‘A flagrant and very experienced adulterer, who thinks he’s the Don Juan of all Don Juans, impossible to resist. And very conceited about his … hidden charms, shall we say?’
Daphne couldn’t help laughing again, and then she finally managed to say, ‘All surgeons think they’re God, according to Diedre. Because they save lives, I suppose.’
‘Or ruin them,’ Dulcie shot back. There was a moment of silence, and then Dulcie moved closer, confided, ‘I think Aunt Vanessa might marry her artist friend. He’s awfully nice, by the way, and he’s from the very proper Barnard family, and well connected. He was very kind to me, helping me with my art history course.’
Daphne was taken by surprise and gave Dulcie a penetrating look. ‘Are you sure there’s an engagement in the wind?’
‘I’m not absolutely certain, but it looks like it to me. He practically lives at her house, and they’re never apart. They sort of … drool over each other.’
‘Papa doesn’t know. He would have told me. But then Aunt Vanessa doesn’t have to report to him, since she’s in her forties and can do whatever she wants.’
‘Gosh, I wouldn’t want to wait so long to get married! Is that too old to have babies, do you think, Daphers?’
‘Perhaps,’ Daphne answered.
Dulcie, who was facing the door, jumped up when she saw her father standing there. He looked furious, and she wondered if he was angry with her. Because she hadn’t gone to see him first.
Daphne also caught sight of him at the entrance to the conservatory, and instantly knew something had happened. The angry stance told her that. What had upset him? He was usually easy-going, genial. She cringed inside, prayed it wasn’t anything to do with the events planned for the next two days.
‘Hello, Papa,’ Dulcie said as soon as their father came to a stop next to them. ‘I just arrived,’ she explained swiftly. ‘I was about to come and say hello to you, Papa.’
A smile flitted across Charles Ingham’s face, and disappeared at once. He brought his youngest daughter into his arms, kissed her cheek. ‘Welcome home, darling. Glad to have you back, and also that you’re early.’ He paused, released her and asked, ‘Have any of your sisters arrived yet?’
‘Not that I know of, I think I’m the first. I wanted to get here in time for afternoon tea.’
He nodded, and then turned his attention to Daphne, who had risen from the loveseat. ‘I need to speak to you about something. Privately. And it is rather urgent.’ He glanced at Dulcie. ‘Would you excuse us, Dulcie, please?’
‘Yes, of course, Papa. I must go up to my room. I left Layton unpacking my suitcases.’
Once they were alone, Daphne gave her father a questioning look. ‘Papa, whatever’s wrong? I can see you’re angry.’ She felt taut, anxious, though she tried to conceal this.
‘I’m angry, upset – and totally baffled. I went down to the lower vaults to get something from one of the safes, and I discovered there are pieces of jewellery missing.’
Daphne couldn’t hide her shock. ‘But how can that be? Only you have the key!’
‘That’s true, and it was in its designated place. I took it, opened the main vault, went to a safe, took out a case, and found a pair of earrings missing. Diamond earrings. I looked in several other cases, and they were empty. I was in shock, Daphne. I couldn’t believe my eyes.’
‘Please, Papa, let’s go down there at once. And we had better check all the jewel cases. Don’t you agree?’
‘I do indeed. I was so upset I just rushed up here without doing that.’
‘Do you think somebody knew where the key was? Took it, went down there – let’s say during the night – and made off with those pieces?’
‘How can I say? Who would know where the main key is kept?’
‘Have you mentioned this to Hanson?’
The Earl shook his head. ‘I came straight up here, looking for you. Let’s go, Daphne, and bring a piece of paper and a pencil with you. We’d better make a list of everything that’s missing. How unfortunate I discovered this now, with all the things we have going on these next few days.’
Although there was a silver vault on the kitchen floor, which contained the pieces used all the time, there were other, older vaults, on the floor below in the lower cellars. These vaults had been built by Humphrey Ingham, the 1st Earl of Mowbray. He had planned them with the architects, when the house was being built in the 1700s. They were cavernous, and not only housed a huge collection of jewellery, but also all the most important and valuable pieces of silver made by the great master silversmiths of the eighteenth century.
As they hurried down the lower staircase, Daphne asked, ‘When was the last time you were in the jewellery vaults, Papa?’
‘Not recently, that’s a certainty. We haven’t been having parties, so no one thought of taking jewels out to wear. I’m puzzled, I truly am, but we must solve this mystery and reclaim the pieces. My father, my grandfather and my great-grandfather always called these vaults our safety net. The pieces were bought for investment purposes, as well as to be worn and shown off. A lot were bought by the 1st Earl when he was a trader in the West Indies and in India. He purchased diamonds from the famous Golconda mines, and those pieces are unique.’
When they arrived at the iron door, Charles unlocked it and stepped inside the huge vault, turning on the light. ‘It’s a good thing my father put electricity in down here, otherwise where would we be today?’
‘Putting it in ourselves,’ Daphne muttered, and followed her father over to one of the larger safes; it sat against a wall at the far end of the vault.
Charles opened the safe and lifted out a worn, red leather case. ‘There were diamond earrings in this. From Cartier. As you can see, it’s empty. This other one held a single strand of diamonds, also from Cartier.’
Daphne nodded, and reached into the safe herself. Her fingers curled around a blue leather box, stamped with gold edging, and as she took it out she said, ‘This is the brooch I wore at my wedding, Papa.’
‘I’m afraid not, darling, that one is empty, too.’
‘I can’t believe it!’ she cried, and lifted the lid. ‘It is empty, and it was one of my favourite pieces. I wore it on my wedding dress, and then later Mama wore it at the dinner we had in January 1914, after Alicia was born—’ Daphne cut herself off, swung to face her father, and cried, ‘I know who took the jewels.’
Charles stared at her, frowning. ‘Are you about to point a finger at your mother?’
‘I most certainly am, Papa! She was the last person seen wearing the diamond bow brooch.’ Placing the empty jewel case on the table that stood in the middle of the room, Daphne looked in the safe again and pulled out two more cases. ‘In here should be a small diamond and ruby tiara, and in this one a matching diamond and ruby bracelet.’
When she opened them, she nodded. ‘Papa, she took these pieces, I know she did. They were her favourites, and so were the Marmaduke pearls. They’re in the other safe, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, they are. We’d best investigate, ascertain what’s missing from there.’
The pearls, dating back to the eighteenth century, were highly valuable, and had been treasured by the Inghams over many years. They were large, had been carefully matched, and were of opera length, long and elegant. The single string was so precious it was hard to evaluate. Daphne had come to believe the pearls, if auctioned, would go for a lot of money.
The box was heavy, and she knew at once the pearls were safe, that they were inside. When she lifted the lid, she nodded, smiled in relief. ‘At least she didn’t grab these, Papa.’
‘I was sure they were here. Pearls have to be taken out from time to time to, sort of … well, be allowed to breathe. And I’ve taken the box upstairs quite frequently for that reason,’ Charles explained.
‘I just know Mama took the other jewels. She knew where the key was, nobody else did, except for me and Miles. And we didn’t steal them. She did it. Your former wife and my mother, and I am going to get every single piece back from her. She’s met her match in me. I won’t rest until the Ingham jewels are back in their rightful place.’
‘How are you going to do that, Daphne? And how are you going to prove she has the jewels? Your mother will never admit she took something she shouldn’t have from Cavendon.’
Daphne was silent for a moment or two, and then she confided, ‘I have an ally. Someone who will help me. I know that for an absolute certainty, Papa.’
He frowned, and a sudden look of concern settled in his blue eyes. ‘And who is that? Who is going to help you?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you, Papa. It’s not that I don’t trust you, because obviously I do. Nonetheless, I simply can’t tell you. At least not now. When I’ve done it, and given the jewels back to you, I will explain everything.’
Charles let out a deep sigh. ‘When are you planning to confront Felicity?’
‘In the next few weeks, when you are away. And I shall force her to hand them over. Obviously we cannot take any steps right now. Nevertheless, I have no worries. She can’t possibly sell them, not ever.’
‘That’s right. We would know immediately if they went on the market.’
‘So, let’s lock these safes, and the vaults, and forget about the missing jewels for the next few days. And I will make the list next week and check every box in all the safes, I promise.’
‘It is a little worrisome,’ Charles murmured, and closed the safe door.
‘I know it is, Papa, but we must not let this problem affect the … family reunion. It wouldn’t be fair, would it?’
‘No, it wouldn’t. As usual, you are making perfect sense, Daphne. Whatever would I do without you?’
FIVE (#ulink_a1aa5054-8789-5f3b-b043-8e243d361034)
There was no doubt in Daphne’s mind that the moment her father had seen the empty cases, he had known at once who had taken the jewels. But he had waited for her to make that very obvious connection.
Daphne sat back in the chair in the conservatory, thinking about her mother, a woman who had changed so drastically she seemed like a stranger. Daphne blamed Lawrence Pierce. It was his fault. He had been a bad influence on Felicity, and no doubt he still was.
She sighed to herself. There was nothing much any of them could do about their mother. She was married to Pierce and, seemingly, he ruled the roost, as Miles so aptly put it. Her mother had created a scandal when she had run off to be with the surgeon in London. But somehow her father and the family had managed to weather it all, and their standing was still intact. Anyway, almost every family they knew were having some problem or other, whether marital or financial.
It seemed almost inconceivable to her that their mother had just pocketed the jewellery, as if it were her own, and gone off to London to join her lover, without giving it another thought. Not about the jewellery she was taking, which was not hers to take. Or the children she was leaving behind. That had happened twelve years ago.
Little Dulcie had been only six, and baby Alicia, her mother’s only grandchild, was not even one year old.
But Felicity’s children had managed. They had not only had each other, they had had their extraordinary father, a very loving man, who was the personification of decency.
And she herself had also had her darling Hugo, and their first child. And all the Swanns. Whatever would they have done without the Swanns? Most especially Charlotte.
Normally, Daphne would have run straight to Charlotte today, to tell her about the missing jewels and ask for her help. But she could not do that. Charlotte had her hands full, and she didn’t need this worry to cope with.
Closing her eyes, Daphne wondered what she could do. She had told her father she had a plan, but she didn’t really. Her only thought was to go to London to confront Felicity.
But her mother would deny having the jewels, wouldn’t she? Obviously that would be Felicity’s only course. And how could Daphne prove otherwise, without ransacking her mother’s house? That wasn’t a possibility, under any circumstance. She did have an ally, as she had told her father. That at least was the truth. But just how much could that ally do?
What she really needed was a reason to invite herself to tea with her mother. But it would have to be a genuinely good reason, because they had all shunned her, off and on, over the years.
‘There you are, my darling,’ Hugo said, interrupting her whirling thoughts as he came striding into the conservatory, at forty-five as handsome as ever. Daphne swung around in her chair, beamed at him.
Bending forward, her husband kissed her on the cheek, and sat down. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you,’ he said. ‘Good news from New York to impart at last! I just heard from Paul Drummond, and he’s finally managed to sell those old factory lofts I bought in downtown Manhattan, near the meatpacking district. And for an excellent price. The money can be put to good use here at Cavendon.’
‘Oh, that’s wonderful news, Hugo!’ Daphne exclaimed, her eyes filling with love for him. He was doing his best to help keep Cavendon afloat, which was drowning in taxes and other problems. She and Hugo stood right behind her father, helping to prop everything up. She was very happy that the strained look had left his face this afternoon.
She now said, ‘Papa will be grateful, and so am I. You do so much, we can never thank you enough.’ She paused for a moment, and then added softly, ‘It will certainly give Papa a lift. He discovered something quite awful today.’
‘What on earth happened?’ Hugo asked, leaning closer. There was a certain kind of disquiet about her, which was not like her at all. She was usually ebullient and positive, whatever problems she faced.
‘Papa went down to the big vault, to get something or other out, and he discovered there were quite a few pieces of jewellery missing. Obviously, he knew at once that my mother had taken them—’
‘Who else?’ Hugo interrupted in a terse voice. ‘Only a Countess of Mowbray knows the hiding place for the key. If I remember correctly, those are the ancient rules followed by the Inghams for generations.’
‘Yes. And the butler always knows where the key is too. But I can assure you, Hanson hasn’t stolen diamond earrings to give to his lady love.’
‘Does he have one?’ Hugo asked, and couldn’t help laughing, despite the gravity of the matter.
Daphne laughed with him, and then went on, ‘I told Papa not to worry about the missing pieces; that whilst he was away I would get them back.’
‘And how do you plan to do that?’ Hugo asked, a brow lifting. ‘Are you going to take Felicity on, and demand their return?’ He shook his head, before saying, in a low tone, ‘You know, you would be accusing her of stealing, since they are actually the property of the Earl of Mowbray, her former husband. I don’t think your mother will take very kindly to that sort of accusation, my darling.’
‘You’re absolutely right, Hugo, she won’t, I’m well aware of that. But I must confront her. I’ve no alternative. And I do have an ally.’
‘Ally or not, I shall come with you to London. I’ll certainly not allow you to go alone under the circumstances. Not to Felicity’s house. Lawrence Pierce may well be there and I don’t want you to end up doing battle with him.’ His glance was long and speculative. ‘And who is your ally, may I ask?’
‘I will tell you, Hugo, but it is in confidence. I didn’t say who it is to Papa.’
‘I shall not tell a single soul, I promise.’
‘It’s Wilson.’
A knowing look crossed Hugo’s face, and he nodded. ‘Of course it’s Wilson. Olive has a very soft spot for you. She always has, and I don’t believe your mother is her favourite at the present time. On the other hand, your mother pays her extremely well, so why would she jeopardize her job?’
‘Because soon she’ll be working for me, as my lady’s maid. In a few months. She finds the situation untenable at Charles Street, and confided in me that she was going to give Mama her notice. And she has. She told Mama she wanted to retire. Felicity made a fuss, didn’t want to let her go, but Olive was adamant, very determined. The point is, when she confided in me, I asked her to come to Cavendon as soon as she was available.’
‘I see,’ Hugo murmured, and sat back in his chair, wondering what Wilson’s wages would be.
As if reading his mind, Daphne swiftly said, ‘You mustn’t worry about the cost, Hugo. I shall pay Wilson myself. I have my trust, and I plan to use some of that to pay her salary.’
‘When does Wilson plan to retire, so to speak? And then come here?’ he asked, thinking that Felicity would not like this turn of events.
‘Not until September. So there’s plenty of time to deal with my mother regarding the jewels.’
‘Whatever your mother says, I know that Wilson will tell you the truth. That is why you’re calling her your ally, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, Hugo. Wilson helps my mother to dress every day. She’s in charge of her clothes, and, presumably, her jewels.’ She stared at him, and added quickly, ‘I know that look on your face, Hugo. You think Wilson should’ve told me before … about the jewels. But you see, Olive Wilson doesn’t know that they’re not Mama’s, not her own personal possessions.’
‘She has no idea they’re family heirlooms?’ he asked, sounding sceptical.
‘How could she? My grandfather was a wealthy industrialist, and I’m quite sure Wilson thinks my mother’s jewels were given to her by him. Or by my father. There’s no way she would know that the jewels Mama wears must remain in the care of the current Earl, that they aren’t actually hers to keep, only on loan.’
‘You make sense, darling,’ Hugo murmured, and stood up. ‘I’d better go back to the annexe for a short while, I’ll see you at teatime.’
‘Oh no, no, Hugo, you must come to the little gathering Papa is having in the library, at three thirty. Just the girls, Miles and you. I know your presence is important to him. You haven’t forgotten, have you?’
‘It did slip my mind, but I shall be there,’ he answered, going over to kiss her cheek.
She moved her head slightly, and, as he bent forward, her face was bathed in the sunlight streaming in through the window. He was instantly struck by her loveliness this afternoon. At thirty, Daphne was at the height of her beauty. Thirteen years, he thought. It didn’t seem possible that they had been married almost that long.
As his lips brushed her cheek, and he squeezed her shoulder affectionately, he thought of their children. Genevra’s prediction had come true … the gypsy girl had foretold that Daphne would bear five children. And she had. They were Inghams through and through, beautiful girls and handsome boys. He loved them dearly and spoiled them atrociously. But why not? Along with Daphne, they were his life.
Walking back to the annexe, Hugo’s thoughts were still with Daphne. What a truly wonderful woman she had become over the years; she had helped her father run Cavendon, and done it well. He smiled inwardly, when he pictured his wife being ‘the general in charge’, as she called herself. Some general, indeed. She was still beautiful, glamorous really, with her abundant golden hair a soft halo around her lovely face. No chic 1920s crop for her; and those glorious eyes were as blue as ever, her skin clear and perfect. I’ve been lucky, so very lucky, he reminded himself. We both have good health and we’re still in love. Miraculous.
SIX (#ulink_3128d5bc-c463-542d-a769-dc54f3b05698)
Diedre stood in the middle of her bedroom, slowly turning, her eyes resting on some of her favourite things. The large antique silver mirror standing on her dressing table, given to her when she was a little girl by her mother, the collection of lace pillows on her bed, made for her by Mrs Alice, and the tortoiseshell and silver brushes, comb and mirror set, a gift from her father for her sixteenth birthday.
All were beloved things, just as this room, which had always been hers, was one of the most special places in the world to her. She had missed it, and as she walked forward to sit down at her small Georgian desk, she felt unexpected tears welling in her eyes.
No one had kept her away from Cavendon; she had just not come, and that was of her own volition. She had not been home because she had been in a state of grief for a long time, and she had not wanted anyone to witness it.
Her grief for the person she had loved the most in her entire life was extremely personal, and therefore absolutely private. And since she was not able to talk about it, at least not coherently, there was no one who could give her comfort. Except, perhaps, her father, who was the most compassionate and sympathetic of men.
Brushing away her tears, Diedre sat down at the mahogany desk and immediately felt truly at ease. Her sister DeLacy loved fancy, frilly bedrooms, whilst she had usually had her eye on the best desks at Cavendon, had often rummaged around in the attics, looking for hidden treasures, mostly amongst the fine antiques.
This was a desk she had chosen years ago, and it became her favourite, with its many drawers, little cubbyholes and polished green leather top.
Unexpectedly, a wave of lovely memories washed over her, and she was surrounded by the past for a few moments. The first diary she had kept, when she was a little girl, had been written here, and her first love letter. She had done her homework at this desk, always diligent about such things; gift cards to her family had been written in this spot, along with Christmas and birthday cards.
Funny how she had liked desks so much when she was younger. She still did. She had three in her flat in Kensington. That was another safe haven. Thankfully, she could afford it, because of the trust from Grandfather Malcolm Wallace. Only she and Daphne had been given these trusts, because Grandfather Wallace, their mother’s father, had died before the other daughters were born.
Leaning back in the chair, Diedre let her eyes wander around the room once more. It was light and spacious, and had a lovely oriel window with a window seat. The pale lavender-grey walls and matching silk draperies created a restful feeling; she felt so comfortable here, and secure.
Now she wished she hadn’t been so silly, that she had come to Cavendon more often in the past few years. After all, she had grown up here. She loved every inch of the house and the parkland, not to mention the gardens. The history of this estate was the history of the Inghams, and therefore part of her.
Her father was a little hurt that she had not been home more often in the last few years. She had suddenly become conscious of this earlier today, when she had first arrived and gone to see him in the library. He had said this lightly, but she had caught a hint of sadness in his voice, and then it had passed. He was clever at hiding his feelings, of course. He would have made a good actor, she often thought.
She had pointed out that she had seen him frequently at the Grosvenor Square house; he had laughed, informed her it wasn’t the same thing.
He had obviously been very happy when she’d arrived this afternoon, most amiable and kind. Well, she was his eldest daughter, his first-born girl. As she was leaving he had reminded her there was to be a small gathering, here in the library later, before tea, and that she must be there.
And she would be. And at tea as well. Diedre hoped she could walk Great-Aunt Gwendolyn home, so that she could talk to her, confide her problem. A small sigh escaped her and she bit her lip, the worrying problem suddenly seeming insurmountable as she thought of it again. Her close friend, Alfie Fennell, had recently told her that someone was out to cause trouble for her at the War Office. He didn’t know who this was, or the reason why.
And neither did she. Diedre loved the work she had been doing during the Great War, and had stayed on after the war had ended, remained in the same division. She had gone to work there in 1914, when she’d been twenty-one. Now she was thirty-three, and it was her life. Without it she would be lost.
Alfie’s news had shaken her up, shocked her, and she had found it hard to believe. She didn’t want to be pushed out; she was frightened by the mere idea of this. It would ruin her life – what was left of it, now her one true love was dead and gone.
When she had finally railed at Alfie and demanded he tell her everything he knew, he did so. And it wasn’t much, as it turned out.
His cousin, Johanna Ellsworth, had been the first person to hear the rumour, and she had told Alfie at once, suggested he alert Diedre, inform her of a possible problem. Johanna was well connected and mixed in political circles.
‘But it is only a rumour,’ Alfie had said last week. ‘Rumours don’t mean much, now do they?’
Diedre thought they did mean something, and said so, adding that many people thought there was no smoke without fire.
Now she focused on the word rumour. Who had started it? And why had they? Was it someone with a grudge against her? A competitor? Did she have an enemy inside the War Office? Was it from inside? Or outside? Was someone trying to scare her? If so, why? Part of her job was asking questions, and now she was asking them of herself, racking her brains. Alfie had hinted she was supposed to have made a bad error in judgement.
There was one thing she did know. All of those who ranked above her, the top brass, were truly satisfied with her work. If a rumour had first been started at the War Office, it was obviously coming from a person in the lower ranks.
Diedre felt certain that her great-aunt would be able to help her, because of her connections in the British government. She knew everyone of any importance, and was considered a genuine friend by many, and if anyone could get to the bottom of this, it was Lady Gwendolyn. And a lot of people were indebted to her.
This aside, her aunt and she were very much alike, and were unusually close. Great-Aunt Gwendolyn was willing to listen to her any time, and to give her considered opinion, as well as good advice. Diedre couldn’t wait to confide in her. It would be a great relief just to unburden herself.
SEVEN (#ulink_49696dc3-3665-5ceb-b9cb-b04d820803a1)
Henry Hanson sat in his office in the downstairs quarters of Cavendon Hall. Leaning back in his comfortable desk chair, the butler reread the menu for the dinner to be held on Saturday evening. It had been created, as usual, by Lady Daphne, and it was perfect as far as he was concerned. But then she couldn’t do much wrong in his eyes; she had long been his favourite.
Lady Daphne had chosen vichyssoise to start, and after the cold soup there would be Dover sole with parsley caper sauce. The main course was rack of baby lamb, fresh green peas from their own vegetable garden, and rösti. These were shredded potatoes, fried in hot oil until they became a crisp potato cake, a Swiss dish introduced into the household by Mr Hugo, which everyone enjoyed.
He glanced at the wine list, written by His Lordship earlier today. He smiled to himself. As usual, Lord Mowbray had chosen his own particular favourites, but the Pouilly-Fuissé was a good choice for the fish, and the Pomerol would be perfect with the main course.
The Earl had made a note on the card, suggesting Hanson select the champagne himself. This would be served with the dessert, and he immediately thought of Dom Pérignon, but he would go to the wine cellar later. Perhaps something else might catch his eye.
Rising, Hanson walked over to the window and looked out at the blue sky. It was a lovely day, very sunny, and he hoped the weather would last for the next few days. But, come to think of it, rain wouldn’t dampen anything, he decided. Happiness didn’t get diluted by rain.
Hanson was excited that the Earl had decided to have this family reunion, the first in six years, and delighted he had picked the middle of July.
It smacked of old times, when all was well in the world and they gave the big summer dances, always a hit with everyone in the county. But the county wasn’t invited tomorrow, just the family.
The last time there had been a reunion was the marriage of Miles to Clarissa Meldrew, a lovely affair, but everything had later gone askew for those two. He felt extremely sorry for Miles, who did not deserve the treatment meted out to him by Miss Meldrew.
Aristocrat my foot, he thought, with a flash of snobbery mingled with anger. Nouveau riche, he muttered to himself, and the title very new, given for some kind of business endeavour. Hardly a match for the heir to the earldom of Mowbray, centuries old, created in the mid 1770s. Miles’s pedigree is bred in the bone, and he’s to the manner born, Hanson thought, and she’s a nobody. Certainly she’s shown that to the world. And with bells on. Sometimes he wondered what that young woman would do next to upset Miles.
Henry Hanson, who was now sixty-four, had worked at Cavendon Hall for thirty-eight years. The stately home and the Ingham family were the be-all and end-all of his life, and he was devoted to both.
He had arrived here in 1888, when he was twenty-six, hired by the famous butler, Geoffrey Swann, who had seen great potential in him. He had started as a junior footman, and risen through the ranks, well trained by his mentor.
When Geoffrey Swann had died rather suddenly, ten years later in 1898, the 5th Earl, David Ingham, had asked him to take over as butler. He had done so with great alacrity, and never looked back. The 5th Earl had trusted him implicitly, and so did his son, Charles Ingham, the 6th Earl. He had proved their faith in him many times.
So much so, the Earl had recently confided in him, explained the real reason for this reunion with his children and the rest of the family. Hanson was sworn to secrecy, and he would tell no one, as the Earl well knew.
Hanson was aware that Lady Daphne and Mr Hugo also knew what this reunion was all about, and no doubt the Swanns did too. They usually were aware of everything, and that was the way it had been forever … since the time of James Swann, liegeman to Humphrey Ingham, who became 1st Earl of Mowbray and built Cavendon Hall.
The Swanns were true blue, in Hanson’s opinion, and he had a lot of time for them. And whatever would the Inghams have done without them? God only knew. He, personally, was grateful for their existence.
Turning away from the window, Hanson decided he would go to the wine cellar, look at the different champagnes. Dom Pérignon was undoubtedly the best, though. He would also look in on Cook, reassure her about Saturday’s dinner. She was a wonderful cook, had inherited the culinary talents of her aunt, Nell Jackson. Tomorrow there would be nineteen people for dinner, and she understood she had to be deft, prompt, swift and on her toes the entire time. She was a capable young woman, but she had told him last week she was concerned about the big dinner. He knew she would be fine, do well, but now he must go and give her a boost.
Hanson went out of his office, thinking about Nell, Susie’s aunt. He had been sorry to see her retire, but after standing on a stone kitchen floor for hours on end, day in, day out, cooking for the Inghams for the best part of her life, she had started to have problems with her legs. They were always swollen and red and painful, and she had backache, which troubled her greatly.
In the end, retirement had been the only solution, but she still lived in Little Skell village and had stayed in touch with them.
There was a lot of the Jackson flair around Cavendon because of Susie. Nell’s niece was like her in every way, not only in her cooking; although she was taller than her aunt, more heavily built, and a comedian at times, making all of them laugh.
‘Mr Hanson! Hello!’ she exclaimed as he strode into the kitchen a moment later. ‘You’ve arrived just in time for a cup of tea. And how about a few sweet biscuits?’
‘Thank you, Cook, I wouldn’t say no,’ he murmured, and sat down. ‘I just wanted to pop in to tell you to stop worrying about tomorrow evening. You’ll manage very well. I have no doubts about you, Susie. And you know the footmen and the maids are well trained, they’ll help you no end.’
She laughed, poured tea into two cups. ‘That’s what Auntie Nell said this morning. I went down to the village to have a word with her, and she was very reassuring.’ Susie smiled at him and added, ‘Can you believe it? She said I was a far better cook than she’d ever been. That I was really a chef and that, if I went to London, I would easily get a job at the Ritz.’
‘I think she’s right,’ Hanson answered, genuinely sincere. Nell had been a good cook, with long experience, but Susie was more inventive and imaginative with food, which put her in a different category altogether.
They sipped their tea and munched on their biscuits in silence for a few seconds, before Susie threw Hanson a questioning look. ‘We’re not looking for any maids, are we, Mr Hanson?’
He stared at her, frowning. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because my friend, Meg Chalmers, has just lost her job. She’s been a maid at Fullerton Manor for quite a few years. Now the family is closing the manor, throwing dustsheets on the furniture and locking the house up. For an indefinite period. They’re going to stay at their London residence. They’ve let all of the staff up here go, and everyone’s down in the dumps and desperately looking for work.’
Hanson felt as if he had just been hit in the stomach with a sledgehammer. He had heard that the Fullertons were in a bad way, but had not realized how bad. Yet another aristocratic family feeling the pinch, going under, he thought, and then said quietly, ‘No, we’re not hiring at the moment, Cook,’ and left it at that.
Whatever anybody else thought, he knew that Cavendon was still safe. Lady Daphne had assured him of that. Nonetheless, he did worry a lot, even though he knew she would never lie to him. Lately there had been a lot of penny-pinching and cuts, and Lady Daphne had discovered a new phrase. ‘We’re on a budget, Hanson.’ When he heard those words he cringed.
But Lady Daphne and Mr Hugo were clever, and now that they were involved in the running of Cavendon there was a great deal of efficiency. Not that His Lordship was inefficient, but his heart attack, which had felled him last year, had slowed him down.
Mr Hugo had insisted on taking matters into his own hands, and so had Miles. They all worked well together, made a good team.
Last year, Miles had turned to him for guidance, and he had been happy to explain certain matters to do with the house. In fact, he had given him what turned out to be a short course on the house, and the many valuable possessions in it. All were exceedingly precious, from the paintings and the silver to the magnificent antiques.
The paintings in the Long Gallery included some extraordinary masterpieces, such as those by Constable, Gainsborough and Lely. These three great portraitists had painted the Ingham ancestors, and there were also Canalettos, Van Dykes, and Rembrandts. ‘Another safety net the earlier Inghams provided us with,’ Lady Daphne had said to Miles one afternoon last week. He had looked at her askance. ‘Would we ever sell any?’ he had asked, sounding slightly aghast. Hanson remembered now how she had answered in a low voice, ‘If we have to, we will.’
He himself had jumped in and exclaimed: ‘It will never come to that, surely not, Lady Daphne.’ And he had flashed her a warning signal with his eyes.
Understanding him immediately, she had smiled at her brother and murmured, ‘However, things are improving, and Hugo has sold some of our Wall Street investments, so we have money in the bank.’ She had then turned to Hanson, and said, ‘Let’s continue our little tour of the house, go up to the attics, and Miles can view the rare antiques stored there.’
‘About the Sunday luncheon,’ Susie said, rousing Hanson from his reverie.
He nodded, and replied at once. ‘Buffet style, as we decided, Cook. We always served the food that way when we had the summer cotillions. Lovely evenings they were. Well, not to digress. Lady Daphne’s menu is a good guideline for you, but you can add other dishes if you wish. Perhaps cold poached salmon, asparagus and smoked salmon, dishes like that.’
They went on talking for a few moments, and then finally Hanson left the kitchen, made his way to the wine cellar to select the champagne for tomorrow’s dinner. Definitely Dom Pérignon.
EIGHT (#ulink_eb6a710c-98dd-523e-a90e-91fe5a9df70b)
The light knocking made Diedre sit up straighter at the desk. She called, ‘Come in,’ and looked at the door expectantly.
It was Dulcie who appeared in the entrance to her bedroom, and for a second Diedre was astonished by her appearance. The girl bore a strong resemblance to how Daphne had looked when she was eighteen – was actually her spitting image. All blonde and golden and blue-eyed … well, they all had blue eyes, of course. But here was the most gorgeous girl she had ever seen, except for her sister Daphne at the same age.
Smiling hugely, Diedre got up and walked across the room to put her arms around Dulcie; she gave her a big bear hug, held her close for a moment, then stepped away.
Dulcie was astonished by this gesture from her sister, who had scared the life out of her when she was a child.
Diedre smiled at her once again, added, ‘I haven’t seen you for almost two years; you’ve become a true beauty, Dulcie. You look so much like Daphne when she was your age, it’s quite startling.’
Even more taken aback, Dulcie could only nod. After a split second, she found her voice. Peering at her eldest sister, she said, ‘What happened to you, Diedre? You were always the mean sister, saying very nasty things to me. Unkind things. Have you been taking nice pills?’
Diedre stared at her, and then began to laugh. ‘You seem to have taken a leaf out of Great-Aunt Gwendolyn’s book—’
‘No, yours!’ Dulcie shot back swiftly, cutting her off. ‘Definitely yours … there’s nothing quite like learning at the knee of the master, is there?’
‘Too true,’ Diedre replied, laughter still echoing in her voice. Years ago she would have taken umbrage at Dulcie’s attitude and comments. But not now. The death of her lover had changed her, given her a different approach to life. She was much kinder and nicer. Intense grief had taught her a lot about people, and about herself. Death had softened her; loss had taught her compassion.
Now Diedre said, ‘I must have been really mean to you when you were little. I was, wasn’t I?’
‘I’ll say!’ Dulcie answered sharply, walking into the bedroom and sitting down in a chair near the oriel window. ‘I couldn’t do right for doing wrong, as far as you were concerned. You were nasty, said some really rotten things. You called me a little madam, for one thing.’
Diedre shook her head, shocked to hear this. ‘How terrible, so awful of me actually. I must have been going through some strange stage myself.’
‘I doubt it, because you were always like that. Truly mean. At least to me. But, in a way, you toughened me up, and that’s served me well,’ Dulcie replied in her normal blunt manner. ‘However, there was no reason for you to be so cruel. I was only five. Just a little girl,’ she finished in a sharp tone.
‘I’m so very sorry, Dulcie,’ Diedre said, her voice filled with sincerity as she sat down at her desk and looked across at her sister. ‘I can’t bear the thought I treated you badly. That I was mean, unkind. Will you accept my apology? Can we be friends?’
‘I suppose so. It all depends on how you treat me now, you know. I won’t stand for any of that old nonsense.’
Diedre wanted to laugh at her outspokenness, but she swallowed hard and said, ‘I promise I won’t verbally abuse you. Or upset you in any way.’
‘All right.’ Dulcie now gave her a pointed look. ‘Why are you being so nice to me?’
‘Because I like you. No, I love you. You’re my sister, after all, and we should all stick together, be close. Closer than we’ve been in the past.’
Dulcie was still wondering what this was about. She exclaimed, ‘That’s an odd thing for you to say. You used to behave as if I was a poisonous snake.’
A look of chagrin flowed across Diedre’s face, and she felt a tightening in her chest. How could she have behaved in such a dreadful way towards her baby sister? It was suddenly incomprehensible to her. And then it hit her. She had been unhappy at that time, at odds with the family, and she had taken it out on a child. Shame filled her, rendered her silent. She had been a mean-spirited woman, it seemed, and she was saddened.
After a moment, Dulcie said, ‘You’re looking morose. What is it? Is there something wrong, Diedre?’
There was such concern in her sister’s voice, Diedre felt even worse, and she did not answer. After a short silence she finally said, ‘I am feeling very ashamed of myself for treating you the way I did … After all, you were only a child, as you’ve just reminded me.’
‘Perhaps you were a little jealous because Papa spoiled and pampered me.’
‘You might be right,’ Diedre concurred. Thirteen years ago she had faced many problems in the family; jealousy one of them.
‘I was his favourite and still am,’ Dulcie now announced, giving Diedre a hard stare.
With a faint smile, Diedre replied, ‘He’s clever, our darling father, and he always has been. He makes each of his four daughters feel special – that each one of us is his favourite and the one he loves the most. And, in fact, he loves us all equally.’
‘True. More than I can say about Felicity. She was no mother to me. She’s an odd one. Everyone says it’s because she’s under the influence of the knife-wielding Lawrence Pierce … that she’s so strange these days, I mean. What do you think? And is he really a blond Adonis, with the glamorous looks of a matinee idol jumping around a stage in the West End?’
Diedre burst out laughing. ‘My goodness, what colourful language you use, Dulcie. You’re certainly a chip off two old blocks: mine and Aunt Gwendolyn’s.’
‘Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?’ Dulcie asked, a blonde brow lifting.
‘Our great-aunt would think it was. I have a feeling she’s rather proud of her way with words, even if she’s a bit tart at times. As I often am myself.’
‘So be it. Have you ever met Felicity’s little playfellow?’
‘Once or twice, in the early days of their relationship, just after the war started. And yes, he is very good looking, loaded with charm, but full of himself. He’s a brilliant surgeon, everyone says that. But doctors like him, who save lives and perform miracles of a sort, are egomaniacs. They think they’re to be revered on bended knee.’
‘I’ve heard that before, and the quote about being God is always attributed to you, Diedre, if you care about such things.’
‘I don’t, and you were a neglected child, in my opinion – at least you were neglected by Felicity. Others loved you very much and took care of you in her absence. Still, our mother was behaving in a weird way in those days, and her mind was elsewhere.’
‘I can well imagine exactly where it was. On the scalpel-happy doctor. And a certain part of his anatomy.’
Diedre stared at her, pushed back a chuckle, and asked, ‘Have you ever thought of being a writer, Dulcie?’
‘Occasionally, but I’m studying art history … I love paintings, and occasionally I’ve thought I might open an art gallery when I grow up.’
‘I think you’re grown up now. And that’s a great idea. In the meantime, has DeLacy arrived yet?’
‘She has, and I heard her crying a short while ago. I went into her bedroom and comforted her. I think she regrets her divorce, but I told her to buck up and get ready. So she pulled herself together, and said she was glad to be here with all of us … “in the middle of the clan Ingham” was the way she put it.’
‘Shall I go and see her? She is all right, isn’t she?’
‘She is, I’m sure of that. She was focusing on what to wear when I left her room, so you don’t have to go and see her.’
‘And why did you come to see me? Since I was so horrid to you?’
Dulcie walked across to Diedre, stood in front of her. She said, ‘I wanted to find out if you still frightened me. I was relieved to discover you don’t. And, listen, we can be friends now. After all, we are sisters …’ She let her sentence drift away, and went to the door, opened it. ‘I’m going to go and get ready.’
‘I shall too, Dulcie. I’ll see you downstairs,’ Diedre answered, feeling better than she had in a long time. Her chat with Dulcie had cleared the air.
Also, she was very taken with her youngest sister, the baby of the family. She had been a pretty child, and had grown up to be a true beauty. She had a glamour about her, with her flowing blonde hair, worn shoulder length. Her face was soft; her full mouth, high cheekbones and arched brows gave her a strong look of Daphne at the same age.
She’s got it all, Diedre thought, walking over to the wardrobe to take out a frock. She’ll go far, our little Dulcie.
NINE (#ulink_71c6d2cc-0751-54db-ae7f-9f2f7a7b7f06)
Anger had replaced DeLacy’s tears, as she discarded dress after dress, throwing them on the bed, a look of disgust on her face. There was nothing in her wardrobe here at Cavendon that she liked; they were old frocks, out-of-date for the most part, and not so flattering any more, she was sure of that.
She stood glaring at them scattered across her bed, when there was a knock on the door. Before she had a chance to speak, Miles walked in.
‘I came to see what you were doing. My God, DeLacy, you’re not even ready!’ he exclaimed, slightly annoyed.
‘Only because I’ve nothing to wear,’ she wailed, staring at her brother. ‘I brought several things for the evening, but I didn’t bother about day frocks …’ Her voice trailed off helplessly.
Miles came over to the bed and started to examine the dresses. Finally, he picked out a pale grey and white silk afternoon frock with a full skirt, a square neckline and flowing sleeves. ‘This looks quite stylish. I’d wear this if I were you.’
‘That’s a funny expression to use, Miles, since you’re a man. But no doubt you like it because it’s an old Cecily Swann frock.’
He nodded, and smiled knowingly. ‘Of course it is; her style is inimitable. That’s why she’s the success she is today.’ He noticed DeLacy’s mouth tighten, and he knew the reason why. Cecily and DeLacy were no longer friends, and had not been for years.
He glanced at his watch. ‘Come on, put this on. It’s really beautiful, Lacy, and certainly it doesn’t look dated. With some jewellery, it’ll look quite different. Smart.’
DeLacy sighed. ‘I suppose I have no option. All right, I’ll wear it. But I don’t have time to ring for Pam and wait for her to come up. You’ll have to help me.’ As she spoke, DeLacy picked up the dress and hurried into the bathroom. ‘Wait for me, Miles, please, don’t leave.’
‘I’ll be here,’ he promised. He strolled over to the window and glanced out. In the distance he could see the lake and the two swans floating across the water. It had been his ancestor, Humphrey Ingham, who had decreed there would forever be swans at Cavendon, in recognition of James Swann, who had been his liegeman all those years ago, and the truest friend Humphrey had ever had. And they’ve been true ever since, Miles thought. For more than one hundred and seventy years …
‘Here I am!’ DeLacy cried, sounding more cheerful and swinging around. ‘If you could do the buttons for me, Miles. Then all I have to do is put on a string of pearls and earrings, and I’m ready.’
He did as she asked, saying as he did, ‘You look beautiful, and the dress is lovely. By the way, I think you and Cecily should make up, become friends again.’
‘I’ve tried. Many times; even asked her aunt Dorothy to let me buy clothes there. But I’ve been rejected every time. They just don’t give an inch.’
‘Maybe Ceci will relent, if I ask her,’ Miles murmured, fastening the last button. ‘I’ll talk to her later today.’
‘She’s here!’ DeLacy exclaimed as she turned around to face him, surprise in her eyes. ‘And she’s talking to you?’ DeLacy was astonished.
‘Yes, actually, she is,’ Miles answered carefully.
‘I can’t believe it! I thought she would never speak to you again. Why didn’t you tell me she was going to be here?’
Miles sighed. ‘I’ve been far too busy; I wasn’t keeping it from you. But please, Lacy, hurry up. We mustn’t keep Papa waiting.’
‘Just another second, and do let’s go downstairs together. I won’t be a moment.’ As DeLacy spoke she hurried over to her dressing table, took out a string of pearls, put them on, began to look for the earrings that matched.
Miles said, ‘I shall talk to Cecily later this afternoon, and perhaps I can persuade her to relent, now that six years have passed. Perhaps she’ll agree to a rapprochement. Do you want me to do that?’
‘Yes, I do, Miles, as long as there are no recriminations, or anything like that … I mean the placing of blame, I’ve been blamed enough of late.’
‘By Simon, you mean?’ her brother asked, looking across the bedroom at her.
‘Oh yes, and yes, and yes! Long ago, I discovered he loves to whine. And he’s doing it now, moaning and groaning that the failure of our marriage is all my fault.’
‘Is it?’ he asked.
DeLacy swung around to face him, shaking her head. ‘Maybe. Or maybe it’s his … to tell you the truth it’s nobody’s fault. It just happened … it’s the way it is. And I know I can’t remarry him as he wants me to. I simply can’t, Miles.’
‘You don’t have to protest to me. I know exactly what you mean. When a relationship doesn’t work it’s hell on earth.’
Although Miles had told DeLacy she looked beautiful, he was nonetheless worried about her. She was much thinner, and had a gauntness about her. Yes, her face was still delicate, beautifully proportioned, but her shorter hair did not really suit her. He was not particularly enamoured of these sleek, cropped hairdos; he found them masculine. He thought he could get Cecily to become Lacy’s friend again, and she would influence his sister. As they walked downstairs together, he made up his mind to help DeLacy through this difficult period of her life. Fragile though she was at this moment, he knew she was strong. After all, she was an Ingham.
TEN (#ulink_d04e0768-4c69-5636-960c-01893113e64f)
The library door was closed, but Hanson opened it without even knocking, and walked in. The Earl was expecting him.
Charles Ingham was sitting at his desk. He looked up and nodded at the sight of the butler. ‘I’m assuming all my daughters and sisters have arrived, Hanson?’
‘That is so, m’lord,’ Hanson answered, walking forward. ‘The young ladies are in their rooms, and I have spoken to Lady Gwendolyn. I told her tea will be at four thirty today, and I’ve given the same information to Lady Vanessa, as you requested. She is also in her suite. Apparently Lady Lavinia was with Lady Gwendolyn when I telephoned, and the message was relayed to her, Your Lordship.’
‘Thank you, Hanson. As I told you earlier, I don’t want to be disturbed once my children have come down.’
Hanson said, ‘I understand, Lord Mowbray.’ There was a momentary pause, then Hanson murmured, with a slight twinkle in his eye, ‘I could stand guard outside, m’lord, if you so wish.’
Charles burst out laughing. ‘I don’t think that will be necessary, but thank you for offering.’
The butler inclined his head and excused himself. Charles rose, and walked across to the hearth, where he stood with his back to the fire, thinking about his children. He had no qualms about what he was about to tell them. He was quite certain they would understand; his plans made good sense. His daughters were intelligent; they cared about his wellbeing and trusted his judgement. Miles already knew, as did Daphne. As for the world at large, he had long since realized he didn’t care about what strangers thought.
Daphne was the first to arrive with Hugo. When she joined him by the fireside, she said, ‘I have told Hugo about the missing jewels, Papa.’
Charles turned as the door burst open.
‘Here I am, Papa!’ Dulcie cried in her usual flamboyant way, floating towards her father in a cloud of pale blue silk.
Charles embraced her. ‘Like Daphne, you look beautiful, Dulcie.’ A smile tugged at his mouth. ‘You’re both wearing blue. And taking a huge chance. Aunt Gwendolyn will tease you mercilessly about wearing frocks to match your eyes.’
‘She will,’ Dulcie agreed. ‘But we don’t care, do we, Daphers? We love blue, it suits us – and anyway, she wears blue as well. Because she has the same blue eyes. It’s a family distinction.’
Daphne laughed, and went and sat on the sofa, where Hugo joined her.
A moment later, the door burst open again and Diedre, DeLacy and Miles came in together in a mad rush. ‘I hope we’re not late, Papa.’ Diedre hurried forward, with DeLacy right behind her; Miles closed the door and joined his sisters.
Charles greeted them, and was relieved to see that Diedre had chosen pink and DeLacy was in a pale grey frock. No doubt they remembered how their great-aunt frequently made fun of them. Even though she was now in her mid-eighties, she was full of life, and mischief.
Charles let his eyes rest on his children for a moment, and admiringly so, and then he gave them a warm smile.
‘It’s really wonderful to have you here together … I should have done this before, had a family reunion. But, as you know, we’ve had our hands full, keeping Cavendon on an even keel. And it is safe, by the way, thanks to good management, wise counsel from Hugo, and innovations created by Miles. And also a great deal of prudence on Daphne’s part in the running of the house. Anyway, I know we’re going to have a truly happy few days together …’
Pausing, Charles moved away from the fireplace and sat down in a chair. Leaning back, making himself comfortable, he went on, ‘I have several things to tell you. But first, let me explain that I am well, truly recovered from the heart attack I had last year. Doctor Laird has given me a great bill of health. He says I’m fit, and that I can lead a normal life. Which is tremendous news.’
‘It is indeed, Papa!’ Dulcie began to clap her hands, glanced around, and her siblings joined in, clapping with her, laughing together. They loved their father, who had been the true constant in their lives.
Charles still had a smile on his face when he continued. ‘On Sunday afternoon, once lunch is over, I will be leaving Cavendon. I’ve decided that now is the right time to take a holiday. Just for a few weeks, but it will be a welcome respite—’
‘What a wonderful idea!’ DeLacy cut in. ‘It will do you good, Papa—’
‘Where are you going?’ Dulcie asked, interrupting her sister. ‘Somewhere lovely, I hope.’
‘I’m going to Switzerland,’ Charles said, his keen eyes roaming over them once more. ‘To Zurich, to be exact. Hugo has very kindly offered me his villa, and for as long as I want.’
‘What a treat.’ Diedre smiled at her father lovingly, and then a thought suddenly occurred to her. ‘You’ll be by yourself, and you might feel lonely, Papa. Would you like one of us to accompany you?’
Charles shook his head. ‘Thank you, Diedre, for such a kind thought. I would like all of you to know that I won’t be alone. You see, I’m getting married. The holiday is actually my honeymoon.’
Three pairs of blue eyes, wide with shock, were staring at him. Diedre, DeLacy and Dulcie were speechless, unable to say anything for a few seconds, taken by surprise as they were.
Daphne stood up and said, ‘I think congratulations are in order, don’t you?’ She eyed her sisters, her own face wreathed in smiles of happiness for her father. ‘Congratulations,’ they all said in unison.
‘You haven’t told us who the bride is, Papa.’ Diedre stared at her father, a quizzical look on her face. ‘Do we know her?’
‘Of course you do,’ Miles said, walking over to join Daphne in front of the fire. ‘Very well, in fact.’
Charles also stood. ‘It’s Charlotte. I’m going to marry Charlotte Swann. Whom I love and cherish and wish to spend the rest of my life with.’
There was a sudden excited rush towards him.
As usual, Dulcie was the first to spring forward and into his arms, followed by DeLacy and Diedre. Within seconds, three of his daughters were hugging him so hard he was almost knocked over.
‘Goodness me!’ Charles cried. ‘That’s a truly genuine endorsement, if ever I’ve seen one.’
Diedre exclaimed, ‘She’s been like a mother to us, Papa, and she’s certainly held this family together for years. I’m very, very happy for you.’
‘So am I,’ DeLacy said, meaning this as much as Diedre did.
‘I’m so happy for you and for Charlotte, Papa. I don’t know what I would have done without her when I was little,’ Dulcie announced. ‘She gave me so much motherly love.’
‘I know, darling,’ Charles murmured. ‘She’s always been loyal, and she gave love to each and every one of us.’
After a few minutes, when everything had calmed down, it was Diedre who looked across at Daphne and then at Miles. She said softly, ‘You both already knew, didn’t you?’
They nodded, and Miles explained. ‘I had to know, because I’m the heir, and I have to understand all of my father’s actions. Daphne had to be told, because it is she who had to plan the wedding.’
‘I understand,’ Diedre said in an even voice, not at all jealous or put out that two of her younger siblings had known before she did. She was fully aware she had been sadly absent from Cavendon, and for quite some time, and so she didn’t really know what had been going on over the years.
‘When are you getting married, Papa?’ Dulcie asked, as she hovered next to him near the fire.
‘On Sunday morning,’ he answered. ‘Tomorrow evening will be … our engagement party …’ He paused, then finished, ‘On Sunday morning, Charlotte and I will be married in the church here on the estate. There will be a buffet luncheon for the Inghams and the Swanns, and then we shall depart for London, en route to Zurich.’
DeLacy asked, ‘Papa, does Great-Aunt Gwendolyn know? And what about Aunt Lavinia and Aunt Vanessa? Have you confided in them?’
Charles shook his head. ‘They don’t know, not yet. I’m going to tell them in a short while, when we have afternoon tea. You see, I felt it was only correct to explain everything to my children first. But, in all honesty, I don’t need anyone’s approval, as you well know. I am a grown man, fifty-seven years old, and I can do as I wish. I told you first because you have a right to know. And I am going to tell them as a matter of courtesy.’
Diedre said quietly, ‘Great-Aunt Gwendolyn might say you’re stepping out of your class, and—’
‘I don’t care what she thinks – or anyone else!’ Charles interrupted somewhat peremptorily. ‘It’s my life, and I shall live it as I see fit. I thrive when I’m with Charlotte. I shrivel up when I’m without her. I want to be happy in these last years of my life.’
‘The world has changed, Diedre,’ Miles interjected. ‘Sadly, many aristocratic families are suffering because of the heavy taxes imposed on us by the government. And for many other reasons. I don’t believe anyone we know is going to pay much attention to what you do, Papa, with all due respect. They’re all bound up in their own ghastly problems, trying to survive the best way they can.’
‘Well said,’ Hugo agreed. ‘No one can live their lives by what the world thinks. Charles must do as he wishes.’
‘Can I be a bridesmaid?’ Dulcie asked, throwing her father an engaging look.
He smiled, then looked across at Daphne, a brow lifting.
Daphne addressed her sisters when she said, ‘Yes, Dulcie, you can, and you, too, DeLacy, and you, Diedre. I shall be matron-of-honour, since I’m a married woman. And I’ll ask Alicia to be a bridesmaid too.’
‘We don’t have bridesmaids’ frocks,’ Dulcie murmured, making a moue.
‘I thought the three of you could wear something really summery and pretty,’ Daphne answered. ‘As for me, I shall be wearing blue.’
Her sisters began to laugh, and Diedre said, ‘And so shall we. None of us are short of blue dresses, so at least we’ll match each other. Oh, how wonderful … a wedding at Cavendon.’
ELEVEN (#ulink_770e7c74-c378-5c1e-8a05-dd9b3fb4d1cb)
As Cecily turned the bend on the dirt road she saw Genevra sitting in her usual spot on the dry-stone wall. She waved.
The Romany girl waved back, jumped off the wall, and stood waiting for her.
Cecily noticed at once that Genevra was wearing one of her old frocks, and she couldn’t help thinking how well it suited her. She had not seen the gypsy in a long time, and now she realized how she had blossomed, was actually quite beautiful in an exotic way.
‘Yer mam give it ter me,’ Genevra explained, touching the white collar of the cotton dress. Her head on one side, she studied Cecily for a moment before adding, ‘It’s me favourite.’
‘I’m glad you like it.’ Cecily hesitated for a moment before asking, ‘How old are you now?’
The girl grinned. ‘Twenty-seven. Same as Master Miles.’ Genevra glanced up at the great house towering above them on top of the hill. ‘Big ’appenings going on up yonder, ain’t that so, Cecily?’
‘All the girls are here to visit Lord Mowbray.’
‘Did yer keep that bit of bone I carved for yer?’
Cecily nodded. ‘I did. But why are you asking me about it now?’
‘It’s lucky. A charm.’ She waved a finger at Cecily. ‘Don’t lose.’
‘Of course I won’t lose it, Genevra. I treasure it,’ Cecily responded, meaning every word. Somewhat superstitious by nature, she believed that the Romany girl did have the gift of sight, as she had always claimed over the years. Some people on the estate laughed at Genevra behind her back, and belittled her, but Cecily understood how clever she actually was, and she was fond of her.
‘Did Miss Charlotte keep hers?’ the gypsy asked.
‘I’m sure she put it away carefully.’
Stepping closer to Cecily, Genevra opened her clenched hand, showed her a newly carved piece of bone. ‘Tek it, Miss Cecily. It’s a charm. I carved it for Master Miles. Give it ter Miles. Go on, tek it.’
Cecily reached for the bone, stared down at it. There were six small crosses and two hearts carved on it, with tiny strips of scarlet and blue ribbon tied on one end.
‘It’s like mine.’
‘No, it’s not.’
‘I meant the ribbons.’
‘True. Tell Miles it’s lucky. Keep Miles safe, liddle Ceci. Keep him near yer.’
‘I will,’ Cecily answered, knowing full well that she would indeed do that. She had no option. After all, when she was just a young girl, she had taken the Swann oath: To protect the Inghams.
As she walked on up the hill, Cecily paused at one moment and looked across towards the fields. In the distance, she could make out the figure of Genevra, and, on the far horizon, the Romany wagons. There were three now; the family had grown.
It was Charlotte Swann who had told her why the 6th Earl allowed them to live on his land. Many years earlier, during the period when the 5th Earl had been the head of the Ingham family, Genevra’s great-grandfather, Gervaise, had done him many services. One was discovering and catching the poachers who raided Ingham lands. The reward Gervaise and his brood were given was the right to inhabit the area near the bluebell woods for all time. The 6th Earl was just upholding that promise.
Romany wagons were a common sight in the lanes and woods of the English countryside, and had been for years. Cecily had always thought of them as picturesque. Some of the gypsies moved around, travelling from village to village, while others chose a particular area, and stayed if they were allowed. They kept to themselves, did not cause trouble.
Cecily couldn’t help thinking about Genevra’s cautionary words to keep Miles safe. She wished now she had asked her what she had seen in the future, although questioning the Romany would not have made her confide. Genevra had always been wary of issuing predictions. Who would want to harm Miles? Clarissa, his estranged wife? Clarissa’s powerful father, Lord Meldrew? Someone unknown? Cecily could not pinpoint anyone as she hurried on, heading for the long terrace at Cavendon where Miles was waiting for her. She pushed worrying thoughts to the back of her mind.
Miles stood at the top of the steps, leaning against the balustrade, and she thought at once that he did not look good. He was wearing a navy blue linen suit that was far too big; it swam around him. Poor choice, Cecily thought, as he kissed her quickly on the cheek and then walked her along the terrace. She was going to have to take him in hand, do something about these awful clothes. Linen was not her favourite fabric. It creased in seconds.
‘What happened?’ she asked, as they sat down at the wrought-iron table in the centre of the terrace.
‘It went really well. Diedre, Dulcie and DeLacy were thrilled about Papa and Charlotte, so no problems there.’
‘I didn’t think there would be. After all, my aunt practically brought them up.’ Cecily sat back in the chair, put her hand in her pocket and brought out the piece of bone, then quickly told Miles about her encounter with Genevra.
After examining the bone, turning it around, he asked, ‘What do the little engravings mean?’
‘I don’t know. She never explains. I have a bone, so does Charlotte, and she made one for Daphne years ago. When Hugo was going off to fight in the Great War, Daphne begged her to explain the carvings. Sympathetic to Daphne’s worries, Genevra finally gave in. She said Daphne would have five children. And she did.’
‘The bits of ribbon I understand completely. They represent the House of Ingham. Scarlet and azure are our colours.’
Cecily simply nodded.
Miles said, ‘And you believe in Genevra’s claim that she can see into the future, don’t you?’
‘I always have. I know she’s strange, and some people say she’s crazy, but I think she’s just different. And gifted in a certain way.’ Cecily shrugged. ‘You’re to keep the bone safe. It’s a lucky charm, according to our gypsy girl.’
Miles put Genevra’s gift into his jacket pocket, and murmured, ‘When you run into her again, thank her for me. If I see her I will do that myself.’
‘She means well, Miles. And I mean well when I tell you that you must not wear this suit ever again. It wrinkles quickly. It’s too big for you. And navy blue is not your colour.’
Miles started to laugh. ‘So I do matter to you, Miss Swann?’ He raised a brow.
Cecily felt the warmth on her neck, and she realized she was blushing. Swiftly, she said, ‘Clothes are my life, and I tell everyone if a garment doesn’t work for them.’
‘Oh, so I’m one of many, eh?’
‘I wouldn’t say that. I do care how you look.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re my friend.’
‘Thank you, Ceci, for being my friend. And you know I feel the same way about you.’
‘I do. And I think we can manage to make this weekend work, if we’re cordial with each other, as we agreed to be earlier today.’
He smiled at her and stood up. ‘I think we’d better go inside; it’s teatime, and Papa is expecting you to join us.’
TWELVE (#ulink_979b6eb6-c7ec-58c9-bf2c-769e362d9377)
‘You’re getting married!’ Lavinia exclaimed, her incredulity apparent as she stared at her brother.
‘I am, yes,’ Charles answered, sitting back in his chair.
‘To whom?’ Lavinia asked, ‘And when?’
‘I’m marrying Charlotte, of course, and then—’
‘Thank heavens for that!’ Great-Aunt Gwendolyn instantly cut in, detecting a critical nuance in Lavinia’s voice, wishing to avert any unpleasantness. ‘And it’s about time, too. I, for one, am thrilled to welcome Charlotte to this family.’
‘So am I, Charles,’ his youngest sister, Vanessa, announced, smiling at him. Looking pointedly at her great-aunt, she then added, ‘But, actually, Charlotte’s been a part of this family since we were all children, growing up together.’
‘There might well be gossip, you know,’ Lavinia interjected, focusing on her brother. ‘You’re marrying out of your class, for one thing, and you’re fifty-seven, Charles. Why get married at all? Why not just continue in the same situation? I think your actions might seem inappropriate to many people, especially your friends. You know how you loathe scandal touching the family.’
The yellow drawing room went unusually quiet.
There wasn’t a sound. Not one person said a word. No one moved, not even slightly. The stillness was overwhelming.
Miles glanced across at his father and saw at once how stunned Charles looked. He was about to get up, but Dulcie beat him to it. His sister sprang to her feet, flew across the room and stood behind her father’s chair, one hand on his shoulder.
She said in a cutting voice, ‘With all due respect, Aunt Lavinia, I don’t believe Papa was seeking your approval. What he chooses to do is none of your business … nobody’s business, in fact. He was actually being courteous. He wished to tell us he was getting married to Charlotte, and discuss the weekend events—’
‘And I’m in charge of those!’ Miles exclaimed, also jumping up, taking over from Dulcie, seizing his chance to change the direction of the conversation. He said in a strong, determined voice, ‘Cecily has been helping me plan things. So let me proceed. Tonight it will be the usual quiet family dinner, just Inghams present. But tomorrow evening will be a different thing altogether, an engagement party – a gala, in a sense, as engagement dinners usually are. Harry, Cecily, Mrs Alice and Walter will be joining Papa and Charlotte, and also—’
Cutting across Miles in the rudest manner, Lavinia addressed her brother. ‘I assume you haven’t invited any of your friends, Charles. And perhaps that’s for the best.’
‘Actually, Charlotte and I have kept it to a minimum. We wanted a small family wedding, with just a few close friends. But we will be giving a party when we return from our honeymoon,’ he finished, his blue eyes icy. Turning away from his sister, Charles said in a softer tone to Miles, ‘Please continue, Miles. Sorry you were interrupted.’
‘Thank you, Papa. On Sunday morning, Charlotte and Papa will be married in the church on the estate. After the service, Cecily and I will host a luncheon. This will be in a buffet style, as we favoured for the cotillions in the past. In the afternoon, the bride and groom will leave for their honeymoon. Of course, all of the Swanns are invited, as well as the Inghams.’
Dulcie said, ‘The four Dees and Alicia are going to be bridesmaids. Well, three of us. Naturally, Daphne will be the matron-of-honour.’
Daphne, relieved that Miles and Dulcie had stopped Lavinia’s idiotic chatter, stood and walked across the room. She said to Charles, ‘I think I should tell Hanson we are now ready for tea, Papa.’
‘What a good idea,’ Charles replied. He was proud of his children for taking over, and so expertly squashing Lavinia, who had been unusually rude. She had overstepped the mark, and he would put her in her place later.
Reaching the door, Daphne jerked it open, much to the surprise of Hanson, who was standing guard outside. ‘Goodness me, Lady Daphne, you really made me jump.’
‘I’m so sorry, Hanson. And you can stand down now. His Lordship has broken the news to his sisters and Lady Gwendolyn.’
‘How did they take it, Lady Daphne?’
‘I must admit, Aunt Lavinia seemed utterly taken aback, but not Aunt Vanessa, who was lovely about it. As for Lady Gwendolyn, she seemed positively elated.’
‘Oh yes, she would be, m’lady. She admires Charlotte. Mind you, she’s always been on the side of the Swanns, very partial to them.’
Daphne glanced at the butler, frowning. ‘That’s a strange word to use, Hanson … partial.’
‘What I meant, m’lady, is that she likes them, but then we all do. Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I’ll have tea brought up immediately.’
‘Thank you, Hanson,’ Daphne answered, and watched him rush downstairs to marshal his troops. She herself went back to the yellow drawing room, and purposely avoided looking at Lavinia, who had been so snobbish and oddly belligerent.
Daphne was glad to hear the cheerful buzz of conversation as the family chatted with each other. She took her seat on the sofa next to Hugo. He was her rock – and everyone’s rock these days. He was wonderful at keeping everyone’s spirits up, and he did a lot to help her father hold Cavendon steady. Her father had recovered from his heart attack, but there were times when she thought he wasn’t quite as strong as he looked.
Taking hold of her hand, squeezing it, Hugo said, sotto voce, ‘That was a rather ugly performance from Lavinia. I was appalled at her attitude, and she spoke so rudely to Charles, who has always been so good to her. I’m happy Charlotte wasn’t present.’
‘So am I, darling. But Cecily’s here, and although her face has remained inscrutable, I’m sure she was a bit hurt. And nobody can blame her for that. Don’t forget, my father put her and Miles in place because he didn’t want to cope with any problems or trouble. He believes Miles and Cecily can handle anything, keep everything on an even keel.’
‘I’m well aware of that, and together they can be extremely tough. Unfortunately your father did get a bit of a shock a few minutes ago. Lavinia was mean-spirited, and really out of step with the times.’
‘She was ghastly. Still, she’s not been very nice to anyone since Uncle Jack died. Grieving for him, I suppose.’
‘I doubt that. I don’t think there was much love lost there. Jack adored her, and all he got in return was unhappiness. Buckets of it, according to Miles.’
‘Miles?’
‘Yes, Miles. They were rather close. He was Jack’s favourite – surely you can’t have forgotten that, Daphne? He treated Miles like the son he never had. That’s why Jack set up a trust for him in his will. It was small, though.’
‘How stupid I am, Hugo. Of course, I remember now. Papa told me Lavinia wasn’t too happy about that trust, but it was rock-solid legally. Lavinia couldn’t do a thing.’
Daphne turned, glanced at the door as it opened. There was a sudden flurry of activity as Hanson swept into the yellow drawing room, leading his team.
Right behind him was Gordon Lane, now the senior footman, accompanied by Ian Melrose, the second footman, and Jessie Phelps, the head housemaid. The three of them were pushing tea trolleys laden with finger sandwiches, scones, strawberry jam and clotted cream, and all the usual fancy buns and cakes.
‘A sight for sore eyes,’ Hugo murmured. ‘I’ve been so busy today I’ve worked up quite an appetite.’
‘I know, so have I. But mostly I just want a good cup of tea,’ Daphne said.
Miles, who had been talking to Lady Gwendolyn, now walked over to join Diedre, who was sitting with Cecily. ‘I’m sorry about that, Ceci,’ he said quietly. ‘I hope you didn’t get upset.’
‘No, I didn’t. But what your aunt did do was alert me, and I hope you, too. We’ll have to make sure she doesn’t do anything to upset Charlotte and your father at the dinner tomorrow – or, even worse, create some sort of scene in the church on Sunday.’
‘You’re right on target. We’ll keep a sharp eye on her.’
Diedre said, ‘She’s preposterous, not to mention stupid. What in God’s name did she think she could achieve by making those awful comments?’
‘Let’s just dismiss it now, and put it down to dim-wittedness,’ Miles said. ‘She’s always been somewhat stupid, in my opinion.’
‘That’s right,’ Diedre agreed, and rose. ‘I’m going to sit with Great-Aunt Gwendolyn. I want to speak to her about something, if you will excuse me.’
Once they were alone, Miles took hold of Cecily’s hand; to his surprise and pleasure, she didn’t pull it away. She simply looked at him, her eyes questioning.
‘There’s something I need to ask you,’ he said, and paused, looking uncertain about continuing.
Cecily remained silent, hoping he wasn’t going to talk about something personal … about them and their relationship.
After a moment, Miles plunged in. ‘Look, DeLacy really wants the two of you to become friends again. She’s genuinely missed you over the years, Ceci. And she’s ready to apologize.’
Cecily didn’t answer at first, and then finally she said: ‘We can be friends again, of course. It’s silly to hold grudges, and of course I’ll accept her apology. But there is just one thing, Miles … I do work. Very hard and long hours. Just so long as she understands this, and that I won’t always be available.’
‘I’m sure she will. I’ll make sure she does.’ He squeezed her hand, and then let go of it. She had a sudden look of discomfort on her face, and he realized that it wasn’t going to be easy, winning Ceci back into his arms.
A moment later, Dulcie came and flopped down in the chair next to the sofa. She grimaced. ‘If Aunt Lavinia dares to make another rotten comment, I promise you I’m going to grab the first cream bun I see and shove it in her mouth. If that doesn’t shut her up, I don’t know what will.’
Cecily began to laugh and so did Miles. Glancing at Cecily he said, ‘Don’t think Dulcie’s joking, because she isn’t.’
‘Of course I’m not joking,’ Dulcie assured them, frowning, wondering why anyone would think that. She always did what she said she was going to do. She was an Ingham, after all. And Ingham women, especially, always stood up to be counted.
THIRTEEN (#ulink_b4012adf-d4eb-5999-8d31-dbd19b51e9a0)
The house was still. So quiet that Cecily was alarmed. She stood in the small entrance foyer, her head cocked, listening for sounds of life.
Nothing stirred. This worried her. Her aunt had not looked well earlier; rather tired, worn out, actually. She hoped Charlotte had not collapsed, taken to her bed.
Cecily had come over to her house to help her try on the last of the clothes she had brought from London. That was an exhausting exercise, fitting frocks and outfits, and she hoped Charlotte was up to it.
Cecily walked towards the sitting room when she heard noises on the floor above and stopped. ‘Are you up there, Aunt Charlotte?’ she called, and immediately began to climb the stairs.
Charlotte appeared on the landing, looking down at her great-niece.
‘Cecily! I didn’t expect you until later.’
They hugged when Cecily stepped out onto the landing, and then they went into Charlotte’s bedroom together.
Cecily noticed the photograph in the silver frame at once. It was of David Ingham, the 5th Earl, for whom Charlotte had worked from the age of seventeen until his death. She had been his personal assistant.
Over the years their relationship had grown much more personal, although they had been so discreet that nobody knew for certain if they had been lovers or not. Except for the Swanns, who were aware of everything that went on at Cavendon.
The frame on the bed was next to a number of leather-bound notebooks and a pile of legal documents. And instantly Charlotte noticed a peculiar look on Cecily’s face, and followed the direction of her gaze. She asked, ‘Why are you so interested in David’s photograph?’
‘I was wondering why you have it in your bedroom? After all, your fiancé might find it strange, having his father’s image staring back at him all the time.’
Charlotte burst out laughing. After a moment, when her hilarity had subsided, she said, ‘It’s usually locked up in a drawer. But I’ve been making a special list for you, and the code number for my main safe is on the back of his picture. That’s why it’s here.’
As she was speaking, Charlotte took the photograph out of the frame, and showed Cecily the number neatly written on the back. ‘This is the combination for the big safe, where I keep my jewellery and those documents.’
Reaching for the list on the bedside table, she gave it to Cecily. ‘I just added the number here. And, by the way, those are some of the record books. They are kept with many others in the second safe. I’ve been rearranging them, putting them in order.’
Cecily nodded, glanced at the list. ‘And what are these other numbers?’
‘I’ll explain the list later. I want to tell you something else. When I die, you will take my place and keep the record books. Until you die. Before that happens, you must designate the person who will replace you to keep the records.’
Suddenly troubled, Cecily asked, ‘What’s wrong, Aunt Charlotte? Are you ill?’
‘No, I’m not, don’t be so silly.’
‘Then why are you talking about wills and dying, when you’re about to get married?’
‘You of all people should know how practical I am. I want my affairs in order before I marry Charles. Also, we are going abroad, we’ll be travelling, and I am fifty-eight years old. So, just in case—’
‘Just in case what?’ Cecily interrupted sharply.
‘Don’t get het up, Ceci dear. I’m perfectly well, and fit, and sound of mind. However, I do have quite a few possessions, such as this house, jewellery David bought me over the years, certain investments he made for me. I just want everything to be quite clear to you. I’m not going to die for a very long time, I promise you.’
‘I’ll hold you to that.’
‘I won’t let you down. Nobody knows what’s going to happen from one day to the next. We are not in control of life. Life controls us. We have to handle what befalls us the best way we can. And hope and pray that it comes out right in the end. Remember this, Ceci.’
‘I do take what you say seriously. I do listen to you,’ Cecily reassured her.
Picking up one of the notebooks, Charlotte opened it at a certain page, handed it to Cecily. ‘Please read this particular entry.’
Staring at the page, Cecily read the words which had been penned in a beautiful copperplate handwriting.
Still holding the book, Cecily gazed at her aunt. ‘That’s so sad … they lost a child.’ Her voice was thick with emotion. ‘Do you know who the person was? The man who wrote it? The Swann?’ She was intrigued, curious as well as touched.
‘I think so, but only because of the date. I believe it was Mark Swann who wrote it, the father of Percy and Walter. He was head of the family at that time. Obviously I have no idea who the Ingham woman was. For obvious reasons, he didn’t write her name in the notebook. Protecting her. At least that’s my opinion.’
‘Why did you show me this entry?’
‘For the same reason I told Charles about it a few years ago. I wanted him to understand that there is something mysterious, yet inevitable, about the Ingham men and the Swann women being together. I wanted you to understand that, too.’
Cecily’s dark brows drew together in a frown. ‘I’m not sure I’m following you. What do you mean?’
‘I have been involved with two Ingham men. One died. The other I am about to marry. And what about you and Miles?’ Charlotte paused for a second, and gave Cecily a penetrating look. ‘You and Miles have been extremely close since you were children. And I know you love each other.’
‘Yes, it’s true,’ Cecily admitted, having denied it for years.
‘And there hasn’t been another man in your life, has there?’
‘No. I’m far too busy working. I don’t have time.’
Charlotte bit back a smile. ‘You’re in love with Miles,’ she said again. ‘Other men don’t interest you, hold no attraction for you.’
When Cecily was silent, Charlotte asked, ‘Am I not right?’
‘You are,’ Cecily answered in a low voice.
‘And he’s in love with you. I believe that’s one of the reasons his marriage failed. Clarissa played a role, of course. She wasn’t a good wife. And she never conceived. Anyway, this is the point … he’ll come after you, Ceci. Be prepared. That’s the way the Ingham men are. With us. They just won’t let go.’
Cecily sighed. ‘He told me this morning that he is going to ask for a divorce. He said he hoped we could be together once he was free, because he loved me.’
‘And how did you answer?’
‘I told him I didn’t know how I would feel. I really meant that, Aunt Charlotte. I don’t believe I can go back to him. Ever. He hurt me so much. I can’t forgive him. Or ever forget his treachery.’
‘Oh darling, it wasn’t treachery,’ Charlotte said softly, her heart aching for Cecily, knowing how she had suffered. ‘He had to do his duty as the heir. Whatever his feelings were for you, he had to put them aside. He had no alternative.’
‘You’re defending him!’ Cecily pursed her lips and gave her aunt a hard and knowing stare.
‘No, I’m explaining to you what Miles Ingham faced. It was his duty,’ she emphasized again. ‘He had to marry her, produce an heir.’
‘And, once he’s free, he’ll have to do his duty again! Marry an aristocrat, beget an aristocratic heir. The Earl will see to that,’ Cecily shot back vehemently.
‘No, no, that won’t happen,’ Charlotte replied. ‘I promise you. Very recently, I reminded Charles about that entry you’ve just read, which fully illustrates how long these liaisons have gone on. Over a hundred years. I told him he had to agree that Miles must seek a divorce. That is an imperative. I also explained that he could not interfere in the relationship which Miles would likely have with you later. And the world has changed radically, which Charles accepts.’
Genuinely surprised by this statement, Cecily just sat there, gaping at Charlotte, rendered speechless for a few moments.
And then it hit her. ‘You did this, didn’t you? You put us together this weekend. It was you who told the Earl that Miles and I worked well with each other, that we should handle everything. The events. Any problems or trouble that might arise. It was you, Aunt Charlotte. You manipulated all of us.’
Charlotte shook her head. ‘No, I didn’t. What I did was arrange a situation in which you and Miles would be helpful to us if anything went amiss. And at the same time I knew it would give you both a chance to connect again.’
‘You’re splitting hairs.’
‘Maybe I am. But I’ve watched Miles in his awful misery for six years. Very painful to witness. And I’ve seen how you work and work and work. To counteract your own sorrow and loneliness. You’re both broken. I hoped I could help to mend the two of you somehow.’
When Cecily remained silent, Charlotte went on quietly, ‘Well, I suppose I am guilty as charged. Still, there’s no getting away from the fact that Miles must produce an heir for Cavendon. And the only woman he wants in his bed is you. And that’s that.’
‘You’ve put me in a terrible position!’ Cecily protested.
‘No, I haven’t, and actually you are holding all the cards, if you think about it. I really do believe you have the winning hand. However, let’s move on. I need to continue to explain about my will. You are my main heir. Harry is my only other heir. I’ve looked after him, so there’s nothing to worry about. I’ve left my house to the two of you. However, I have also left all of my shares in Cecily Swann Couture to you. It is your business, and you should own it fully.’
‘Thank you, thank you very much, Aunt Charlotte. But what about Aunt Dorothy? She has some shares.’
‘Not many. I’m going to buy her out, and she’ll be happy to sell. You don’t need any partners. Always remember that. Anyway, they’re a nuisance in the long run.’
‘You’ve never been a nuisance,’ Cecily pointed out softly, having regained her composure.
‘Thank you for saying that. I’ve tried to stay in the background.’
There was a moment of silence, and then Cecily said, ‘You have some dresses to try on, you know.’
‘Let’s lock up the record books and the documents, and then I will concentrate on my trousseau, I promise.’
FOURTEEN (#ulink_996d4a31-5d3f-5ec8-924a-3c9e9035bbe3)
Diedre enjoyed her early morning walk to Little Skell Manor, which took her through the park at Cavendon, past the lake where the two snow-white swans floated together in contentment.
She paused for a moment, watching the swans, remembering that they mated for life. If only she had been able to do that … She pushed sorrowful thoughts to one side, and moved along the path at a steady pace. Put the past behind you, she reminded herself.
At one moment, she lifted her head, glanced up at the sky. It was a clear blue on this sunny Saturday morning, and she hoped the good weather would last. She wanted it to be a perfect day tomorrow for her father’s marriage with Charlotte.
How glad she was he had taken this step at long last. There was not a single doubt in her mind that Charlotte would be a wonderful wife … she had actually been exactly that for many years, without the benefit of a legal document.
Diedre had felt the warmth and love of her father, Miles and her sisters last night at the family dinner. It had been like old times, and she had realized how much she had missed everyone.
Funny, she thought now, how we become so entangled in our everyday doings, consumed by our worries and problems. Selfish really, not giving a thought to others.
She aimed to make amends, to stay in touch with her sisters, most especially DeLacy. It struck her last night how fragile DeLacy was – nervous, on edge. At one moment after dinner she had asked Miles if their sister was all right. Miles had said DeLacy was unhappy about the divorce, yet could not live with Simon. Their married life had been full of terrible quarrels and violent upsets that had inevitably torn them apart in the end.
Diedre focused on Miles, who had also been unlucky in love. If he’d ever loved Clarissa, that is. Duty had been at the root. What rotten luck that Clarissa had not produced an heir. On the other hand, perhaps it was for the best. Miles had confided to her that he was going to seek a divorce. Far better in this situation that there were no children involved.
Daphne’s been the luckiest, Diedre thought, her mind suddenly settling on her sister’s adorable and beautiful children. As for Dulcie, she has her life ahead of her. I’m going to take her under my wing; I’m determined to make up for the way I treated her when she was a child, she muttered to herself. Deep inside she was still ashamed of the way she had behaved.
As she walked up the garden path to Great-Aunt Gwendolyn’s house, Diedre managed to empty her mind of these thoughts, and tried to concentrate on what she had to say.
One thing she did know, she could not waste her great-aunt’s time. She wouldn’t sit still for small talk, always needed to get to the heart of the matter. And immediately. Gwendolyn Ingham Baildon was blessed with great intelligence and practicality. Diedre thought she had the most wisdom of anyone in the family.
Lifting the brass hand-knocker on the front door, she banged it once. Almost instantly the door was opened to reveal Mrs Pine, Lady Gwendolyn’s long-time housekeeper, standing there.
Smiling, greeting her warmly, Mrs Pine led her through the front hall and into the parlour. This attractive room, filled with mellow antiques, comfortable sofas and chairs, had two large mullioned windows which overlooked the gardens. The gardens were beautiful; they had been lovingly cultivated by Harry Swann until he had become Miles’s right-hand man, learning estate management with him.
Her great-aunt was sitting on a sofa, waiting for her. ‘There you are, my dear,’ Lady Gwendolyn exclaimed. ‘Punctual as always. I do like that characteristic in people. Those who arrive late are thoughtless. They’re stealing one’s time, don’t you know.’
Diedre nodded. ‘That’s correct. And thank you for agreeing to see me this morning.’ She bent over and kissed her aunt’s cheek.
‘I’m happy to have a little private visit with you, Diedre. Do sit down, my dear, don’t hover.’
Taking a chair next to the sofa, Diedre said, ‘I’ve been informed by a very good friend, a trusted friend, that I have an enemy at the War Office. I was stunned when I heard this. My work has been excellent, and I’ve had promotions over the years. My friend said this enemy could prove dangerous to me.’
Lady Gwendolyn sat up straighter on the sofa and gave Diedre a penetrating look, her eyes narrowing slightly. ‘I don’t like the use of the word “dangerous”, Diedre. Dangerous in what way?’
‘I’m not sure. I think that whoever is against me wants me to be dismissed – pushed out, in other words.’
‘What exactly is it that you do at the War Office? No one seems to know, and you’ve been very wary about discussing it over the years. Which leads me to make the assumption you are in Intelligence. Is that so?’
Diedre leaned forward slightly and said in a low voice, ‘I am not allowed to discuss my work, Great-Aunt. But let me just say that I have never known you to be wrong about anything, and most especially in your assumptions.’
A twitch of a smile crossed Lady Gwendolyn’s face, and she nodded. ‘Now, do you have any indication who this enemy might be? Were you given a name? Or do you suspect anyone of wanting to harm you?’
‘The answer is a definite no to all of your questions. I was rather dumbfounded, actually, when I was told I had an enemy, someone who was out to make trouble for me. I’ve wracked my brains, and I haven’t been able to pinpoint anyone.’
‘Who was the person who informed you, may I ask?’
‘A very old friend, Alfie Fennell,’ Diedre answered. ‘And he was so sincere I believed him.’
‘Is he any relation to Sir Hubert Fennell?’ Lady Gwendolyn asked.
‘Yes. That’s his uncle.’
‘How did young Fennell get to know about this so-called enemy of yours?’ Lady Gwendolyn now asked.
‘Through Johanna Ellsworth. They are cousins. Neither have anything to do with the War Office. Alfie is a barrister, and Johanna does not work. She has a private income.’
‘It seems that your friend Johanna knew about this first and passed it on.’
‘She told Alfie she had heard a strange rumour about me, and she wanted him to alert me, even though she said it was only a rumour.’
‘I think you have to find out who told her.’
‘I did do some probing, and I know the right questions to ask. I gathered that it was just … out there.’
Lady Gwendolyn was silent for a moment before remarking, ‘You say you can’t think of anyone who might want to cause you trouble. But maybe it’s not someone … highly visible. Have you ever offended anyone, without realizing it? Have you rejected a would-be suitor who you didn’t know was a suitor? Is someone in competition with you?’
‘None of those things. At least, not that I know of. I just plough into my work every day and keep my head down.’
‘Have you told any of your colleagues at the War Office about this rumour?’
‘No, I haven’t. I thought it better not to say a word to anyone except you. Obviously, I know people there, and we’re friendly as colleagues, but I don’t have any bosom chums. Actually, I’m baffled at the mere idea of an enemy.’
‘How can I help you, Diedre?’
‘I’m not sure. Being able to talk to you about this helps a lot, because now I don’t feel so alone, coping with this problem.’ Diedre let out a small sigh, shook her head. ‘I thought you might know someone at the War Office, or in the government. But now, as I’m saying that, I know you can’t just start asking your friends who my enemy might be, now can you?’ Diedre began to laugh at her own absurdity, and so did Lady Gwendolyn.
After a few moments, Diedre added, ‘I suppose all I can do is just wait and see who tries to make trouble for me.’
‘That is true, my dear, in one sense. But I’m afraid I can’t just leave it at that. Let me think about this. I am going up to town next week. I have several engagements to fulfil, and who knows what I might find out as I circulate in Mayfair and Westminster with my friends.’
‘Thank you, Great-Aunt Gwendolyn, I do appreciate your help. I love my work …’ Diedre broke off as her voice started to quaver unexpectedly. She was on the verge of tears. Swallowing, promptly taking hold of herself, she continued, ‘The War Office is a huge part of my life, as you know. I’ve been there twelve years, and I love what I do. Without it I would be lost.’
‘I truly understand,’ Lady Gwendolyn murmured sympathetically, having always been aware that Diedre found great fulfilment in her work, and was dedicated to her professional life.
FIFTEEN (#ulink_0bbe1ea0-5a80-51f7-a66f-65c1836e88bc)
It was a weird and dubious story at best, and if anyone else had told her this strange little tale, Lady Gwendolyn would have doubted its veracity.
Since it was Diedre who had related it, though, she believed it was the truth. Her great-niece was honest and dependable, not given to flights of fancy.
Leaning back against the iron garden seat, gazing out at the flower garden, she relaxed, let her mind wander.
She knew nothing about Diedre’s work, other than that she was well thought of by the powers that be. Only today had Diedre strongly implied she was in Intelligence, which Lady Gwendolyn herself had long suspected but never mentioned to anyone. She was always cautious when it came to such things.
As the daughter of one of the foremost earls in the land, with a title in her own right, her niece mixed in the best of circles, was genuinely popular, and was on the invitation lists of everyone that mattered in London society.
There had never been any gossip about Diedre … no Chinese whispers. Lady Gwendolyn sat up with a start, frowning to herself, suddenly recalling Maxine Lowe, one of Diedre’s closest friends. She had been found dead in suspicious circumstances at her house in Mayfair, four years ago now.
At the time, Lady Gwendolyn had been annoyed when Diedre had been interviewed by Scotland Yard. But her worries immediately vanished when her great-niece told her that all of Maxine’s friends had been questioned by the police.
Diedre had then gone on to explain that the big boys at the Yard thought they might be looking at a murder; some agreed with this theory, others focused on the idea of suicide.
Then a different verdict altogether was announced by the coroner at the inquest. Maxine had indeed died from poisoning, and the substance ingested was arsenic. But the manner of death was declared to be undetermined. Leaving the verdict inconclusive in this way meant that the case was open to speculation; there had been a lot of talk about Maxine’s sudden death in the circles she had moved in – mainly high society and the artistic world. In the end, nothing ever came of the police investigation. Her death remained a mystery to this day.
Now Lady Gwendolyn focused on Diedre’s present problem, and her razor-sharp mind told her one thing … the rumour about Diedre being pushed out by the War Office had nothing to do with her personal life. She believed it had been started by a colleague with a grudge against Diedre.
Nothing else made sense, actually. Obviously there was someone who wanted Diedre out of the way. Jealousy, envy and ambition. A fatal combination. Malice, she said to herself. It’s driven by malice aforethought.
If you wanted to punish a person, the only way to do it without causing them bodily harm was to attack whomever or whatever they loved the most. Hit their vulnerable spot hard.
This might be another human being, such as a spouse, a child, a parent, siblings. Or a lover, perhaps. A person who could be physically damaged, maybe even killed. She dismissed the idea of a lover. Diedre had become very much a career woman. But she was beautiful, with her chic hairdo and lovely face, not to mention her stylish clothes.
Alternatively, a career that was relentlessly attacked could ultimately be totally destroyed forever, never to be rekindled.
These were the only two choices, as far as she was concerned. Hurt someone Diedre loved. Or destroy her career totally.
Discovering the identity of Diedre’s enemy was an imperative. Until they knew who it was, they would be whistling in the dark. Whom could Lady Gwendolyn turn to for help? Which of her friends had real power? Whom did she trust? And who would actually be willing to poke around for her?
The answer came to her immediately. Only someone in politics and someone with access to the top brass at the War Office.
Staring into the distance, she thought of those friends who were connected to politics. She knew Lucy Baldwin quite well, had been at her wedding to Stanley in 1892. But she could hardly go to the Prime Minister’s wife with this.
Winston. Of course! Not only was he a good friend, he had just the right temperament to get involved. He would relish it, in fact. But how could she ask him at this particular time? Once again, Winston Churchill was in the middle of the fray, dealing with the coal strike for Baldwin. Perhaps—
‘Excuse me, Lady Gwendolyn,’ Mrs Pine said, intruding on Lady Gwendolyn’s thoughts, coming down the steps into the garden. ‘Lady Lavinia is here. She apologizes for being early for lunch.’
Pushing herself to her feet, Lady Gwendolyn said, ‘That’s perfectly all right, Mrs Pine. I was just about to come inside anyway.’
Lavinia was waiting for her in the parlour; as she turned around to greet her aunt, Gwendolyn was struck by the tiredness etched on her niece’s face. ‘Are you feeling all right, Lavinia?’ Lady Gwendolyn asked. ‘You look a little under the weather, my dear.’
‘I’m tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.’ A faint smile lingered on Lavinia’s face as she followed her aunt across the room.
Sitting down in a chair opposite her, Lavinia went on, ‘I’m afraid the unexpected news that I was going to attend a wedding on Sunday – my brother’s wedding at that – rather startled me. It also upset me.’
Lady Gwendolyn simply nodded, made no comment. She had fully intended to chastise her niece over lunch today, for being rude to Charles yesterday. But now she changed her mind.
As she studied Lavinia’s face, she realized there was something else radically wrong with her. In fact, she thought her niece might be ill. She looked pale, wan, and her blonde beauty had faded somewhat. I’d better not chide her at this moment, she decided. ‘We were all surprised, except for Miles and Daphne, who knew about it all along. But I’m happy for Charles, and delighted he is marrying Charlotte.’
Staring at her aunt, raising a blonde brow, Lavinia exclaimed, ‘I know you are! And I must admit, I was taken aback yesterday when you voiced that opinion about this unfortunate union. He’s marrying out of his class. He’ll be ostracized.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ a voice exclaimed from the doorway.
Lavinia’s sister glided into the parlour.
Drawing to a halt next to her aunt, Vanessa said, ‘I’m not late, am I, Aunt Gwendolyn? Hello to you, Lavinia. I’m afraid you’re going to have to join the multitudes who are cheering on the sidelines. Otherwise you’ll be the one who is ostracized … you’ll be sent to Coventry.’ Bending over her aunt, she kissed her cheek, then seated herself on a nearby sofa.
Vanessa couldn’t help thinking how elegant and distinguished Lady Gwendolyn looked. Long ago her abundant blonde hair had turned to silver. Now it was pure white, and beautifully styled as usual. Her blue eyes sparkled brightly this morning and there was no hint that she was eighty-six. She looked much younger and was agile of mind and body.
Lady Gwendolyn smiled at Vanessa and glanced across at Lavinia. Two sisters entirely different in personality and character. She knew which one she had always preferred: Vanessa, liberal-minded, ready to accept people on face value, and in step with the times they were living in. The 1920s, not the 1800s.
Lavinia, throwing her sister an icy look, asked, ‘And what about you, Vanessa? When are we about to hear that you are finally getting married?’
Vanessa began to laugh. ‘Oh, I don’t know, I’m not sure I’m ready to do that yet,’ she answered casually, still laughing.
‘Is there a nice young man in your life, darling?’ Lady Gwendolyn asked. ‘And if indeed there is, who is he? I would love to know.’
‘His name is Richard Bowers, and he’s very nice. And the next time you come to London we’ll have dinner, or lunch – whichever you prefer, Aunt Gwendolyn.’
‘I’ll be up in town next week. We must meet. That would be lovely. Is he by any chance related to the Barnards?’
‘His mother Valerie is a Barnard,’ Vanessa answered. ‘I think you know her, Aunt.’
‘I do indeed. We’re acquaintances, but not close friends. She is a very nice woman.’
It was during lunch that Vanessa mentioned that Daphne had shown her the guest list for the wedding earlier. ‘I was happy to see Hugo’s cousin, Mark Stanton, is coming, and so is Paul Drummond. Also a number of—’
‘Who is Paul Drummond?’ Lavinia cut in, staring across the table at Vanessa. ‘I’ve never heard of him. He must be a new friend.’
‘No, actually he’s not. Paul Drummond is an American. He has worked with Hugo for many years,’ Vanessa explained. ‘Paul runs the New York end of Hugo’s business and, since he happens to be in London at the moment, Charles wanted him to come.’
‘An American! That explains it perfectly. I can assure you none of Charles’s close friends will be there. How could he invite them when he’s not marrying an aristocrat?’
Vanessa, appalled by Lavinia’s comment, said slowly in a firm tone, ‘Stop harping on about the aristocracy. It’s falling apart. It has been since the end of the war. Because of high taxes imposed by the government. No men to till the fields, run the factories or go down the mines. All dead on the blood-sodden fields of France – including our nephew, Guy. Half of Charles’s friends are busy trying to stay afloat, keep their stately homes running, and many are not succeeding. Do you really believe they’re concerned about Charles’s new wife? Not one iota. They’re trying to save their skins. So shut up about Charles marrying out of his class. I for one think you’re totally out of line.’
Lavinia sat back in her chair, gaping at Vanessa, astonishment washing over her face. For once in her life she was speechless, shaken by her sister’s verbal attack.
Seizing the moment, Vanessa continued, ‘Everyone said it was the war to end all wars. But what the Great War actually did was end the British Empire. Nothing is the same any more. England’s stony broke. The landed gentry are being diminished. The working man is looking for a fair deal. There was a General Strike, in case you didn’t notice, and the coal strike. The country’s spinning on its heels, and talk of a Depression is constant. And you’re going on about class. Just grow up, Lavinia. Join the world we’re living in today.’
Lavinia still remained speechless, even more shocked by her sister’s attitude and her angry words.
Lady Gwendolyn studied Vanessa, and then nodded. ‘Well put, my dear. I’m afraid I do have to agree with you.’ Focusing on Lavinia, she continued, ‘No one likes change, certainly not I, but times have indeed changed, Lavinia. And we must all change with them, keep in step. And that includes you.’
Lavinia had become paler than ever, and she replied in a low, slightly nervous voice, ‘Why are you both so annoyed with me? It’s the truth.’
There was a small silence. No one spoke. And then a moment later, Mrs Pine came into the dining room with the parlour maid, and they served the dessert.
Vanessa, wishing to change the subject, smiled at the housekeeper, and said, ‘I do love crème caramel, Mrs Pine. It’s my favourite.’
The housekeeper merely smiled and nodded.
Once they were alone again, Lady Gwendolyn sat up straighter in her chair, and peered at Vanessa and then at Lavinia. Both of them knew a pronouncement was coming and they sat perfectly still, not uttering a word or touching their food.
After a long moment, Lady Gwendolyn said in a steely voice, which was also as smooth as silk, ‘Because I am matriarch of this family, its oldest and most senior member, I can break the rules and make the rules.’ She paused, took a sip of water, and shifted slightly in her chair.
Her voice had a little less steel and more silk to it when she explained, ‘I am making a new rule. Since I am most approving of my nephew’s choice, this will be the last time a pejorative word will be uttered about Charlotte. Ever. By anyone. On Sunday she will become the Countess of Mowbray. She will be treated with the respect she deserves, and which she has actually earned through a life of devotion to this family. Charlotte has been a boon to us all. And frankly your brother would be dead by now if it were not for her.’
Still the sisters said nothing.
Lady Gwendolyn was fully aware that she had got her point across to them. Vanessa was at ease, whilst Lavinia looked shaken. Picking up her spoon, Lady Gwendolyn tasted the crème caramel, then she said quietly, scrutinizing Lavinia, ‘Are you all right, my dear? I hope my words haven’t upset you too much.’
‘No, not at all, Aunt Gwendolyn,’ Lavinia answered, her voice still low, but steady. ‘And I’m sorry if I offended you, Aunt. It won’t happen again. Surely you must know that I love my brother, and I do want what’s best for Charles.’ Lavinia stopped, took a deep breath, and finished. ‘I am fully aware that Charlotte is devoted to him, and we do owe her a lot.’
Lady Gwendolyn offered Lavinia a warm smile. ‘I am very glad to hear those sentiments.’
Wow! Vanessa thought, pushing down the laughter bubbling inside. Wow oh wow! I never thought I’d hear anything like this from Lavinia’s mouth. She’s always been jealous of Charlotte, ever since we were children growing up together. She was constantly in a sulk because Charles treated Charlotte like his best friend. And she hated it when they called each other Charlie.
SIXTEEN (#ulink_7fdb7fdc-2e2e-5875-8cbd-f0e120da68e0)
They had arranged to meet at the gazebo, situated halfway between Little Skell Manor and Charlotte’s house at the edge of the village. After lunch, once Vanessa and Lavinia had departed, Lady Gwendolyn set off to keep her appointment.
She walked slowly along the path, as usual wanting to savour the beauty of Cavendon. For her it was the one true place on this planet, the place she was happiest and most content.
Gwendolyn Ingham Baildon had been born at Cavendon, had grown up there. When she was twenty she had married Paul Baildon in the small church on the estate. She and Paul had had a wonderful ten years together, and then he had died, quite suddenly, after a botched operation for appendicitis.
It should not have happened. He had been far too young to die, and she had been devastated by the loss, as had everyone else. At thirty she had become a widow, and she had been a widow for fifty-six years. Paul had been buried in the cemetery alongside her ancestors, such a long time ago now.
They had never been lucky enough to have children, but the memories were there, to be recalled at will and mulled over … they were almost living things, so vivid in her mind and in her heart.
As she strolled along, Gwendolyn glanced around. The park at Cavendon was always beautiful, whatever the time of year, but today it was spectacular. It was a perfect July afternoon, the bright sun shining in the light blue sky, everything so green and verdant. The great oaks were ancient sentinels along the path, their thick branches forming canopies of dark leaves high above, offering cool shade in this warm weather.
Within minutes she saw the gazebo ahead. Charlotte was standing on the steps waiting for her. Charlotte Swann. A remarkable woman. She had known her since the day she had been born, fifty-eight years ago, and there was a certain closeness and friendship between them; they were comfortable with each other, but then Charlotte never overstepped the line, was never out of place, and Gwendolyn was open-minded and without an ounce of snobbishness in her character.
Charlotte, her face full of smiles, said, ‘Good afternoon, m’lady.’
‘Hello, Charlotte, my dear.’ Lady Gwendolyn took the hand being offered, and mounted the few steps.
After ushering her over to a white wicker chair, Charlotte said, ‘I’m glad you suggested meeting here. Cecily and Miles are still going over details for the weekend, and Mrs Alice is finishing my packing. I’m afraid it’s a bit busy at the house.’
‘I rather thought there would be quite a lot of activity around you, and this seemed the most suitable spot to meet for a quiet chat. We’ll be undisturbed.’
Charlotte sat down at the table. ‘What did you wish to speak to me about, Lady Gwendolyn?’
‘I’m sure Charles has already told you how delighted I was to hear his news at tea yesterday. However, I did want to tell you that myself, and to congratulate you. I’m very happy you are marrying Charles, Charlotte. I have something for you.’
Lady Gwendolyn opened her handbag and took out a package wrapped in blue silk and tied with white ribbon. She placed it in front of Charlotte.
A moment later, Charlotte found herself holding a brooch in her hands. It was made of gold, designed in the image of a swan. The gold was carved to look like feathers on a plump body, and around the swan’s long neck there was a narrow band of diamonds. The swan’s eyes were made of small sapphires, its beak formed of slivers of mother-of-pearl and ebony.
‘It’s beautiful, Lady Gwendolyn!’ Charlotte exclaimed. ‘Thank you so much. I can see it’s old.’
‘Very old, in fact,’ Lady Gwendolyn replied. ‘The worn box is obviously ancient. There’s no jeweller’s mark or name on the pin, or on the box, but it is so beautifully crafted it must have come from a fine shop.’
Charlotte nodded, touched by this gesture on Lady Gwendolyn’s part. Her eyes filled. After a moment, clearing her throat, she said, ‘I shall treasure it always.’ She glanced down at the brooch. ‘May I ask who gave it to you?’
‘My mother,’ Lady Gwendolyn answered without hesitation. ‘The brooch has been passed down for years. I decided you should have it. You’re about to become an Ingham, and you are a Swann. A fitting token from an old woman who thinks the world of you.’
Charlotte experienced another little rush of emotion. After a moment, she said, ‘You’ve always been so kind to me, Lady Gwendolyn, and you’ve never passed judgement on me.’
Staring at her, frowning, Lady Gwendolyn asked, ‘Because of your love for my brother? Is that what you’re referring to?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why would I judge you? You made David happy, gave him a new lease on life. And he loved you, Charlotte.’
‘He helped to make me who I am. He taught me so much, and he gave me a wonderful life.’ Charlotte laughed. ‘In secret, of course.’
‘I knew about the two of you,’ Lady Gwendolyn murmured. ‘I never said one word to anyone.’
‘Thank you for that.’
‘Stop thanking me, Charlotte. It is I who should be thanking you for all you’ve done for us. And I just want to add this … welcome to the Ingham family officially.’
Walking back to Little Skell Manor, Lady Gwendolyn chastised herself for not telling Charlotte the truth about the brooch. She had suddenly lost her nerve, if the truth be known. But she must know more of the story, she murmured to herself. And I will tell her when she comes back from her honeymoon.
If I haven’t died by then. This thought made her chuckle. I’ve no intention of dying just yet. I’ve too much damage to do, and I have to help Diedre find her enemy and make her problem go away.
SEVENTEEN (#ulink_f16a38f4-4bcb-50c0-831c-946286eddcfb)
Daphne sat at her desk in the conservatory, a room which had become her own over the years. No one else ever used it. She was making a last-minute check of the guest list for the engagement dinner that evening, and contemplating the placement of everyone at the two dinner tables.
Nodding her head, deciding that it could not be improved on, she sat back in the chair, sighing to herself, finally relaxing. It had been an extremely busy day, and she was relieved she had asked her father to cancel afternoon tea. The staff were overburdened as it was, and Hanson was all for it. Fortunately, her father had understood.
At the sound of footsteps on the terracotta-tiled floor, she turned around in her chair; her face lit up when she saw Peggy Swift coming towards her, carrying a tea tray. She was Peggy Lane now, having married Gordon Lane after the war, and was the mother of a little girl who was called Daphne, named for her.
‘I thought you might be in need of a nice cup of tea, Lady Daphne,’ Peggy said, placing the tray on the table next to the sofa. ‘You haven’t stopped for a minute today, so Hanson tells me.’
‘It has been busy, Peggy, and by the way, I must thank you for stepping into the breach this afternoon, coming in to help out. We really needed you. How is Mrs Thwaites?’
‘She’s all right, m’lady. Resting in her room. Hanson told me it’s not the first time she’s fainted lately. It’s happened before. She’s very dedicated to her job. Hanson says it’s probably just tiredness, nothing serious. But he’s told her she must go to the doctor on Monday.’
Standing up, Daphne walked over to the sofa. ‘I’m glad Hanson insisted on that. She’s not getting any younger, I’m afraid.’
‘Neither is Hanson, m’lady.’
Daphne glanced at her quickly. ‘Have you noticed something I haven’t, Peggy?’ she asked, worry creeping into her voice.
‘No, no, just making a casual comment, Your Ladyship. By the way, I’ve tried twice now to get hold of Olive Wilson, but there’s still no reply at Lady Felicity’s house – I mean Mrs Pierce’s house.’
‘Thank you, Peggy. Please try the number again later.’ Then Daphne’s blonde brows drew together in a frown, and she added, ‘Actually, I’m not sure there’s anyone at the house. My mother usually goes to Monte Carlo in the summer.’
‘I’ll try again, anyway,’ Peggy murmured. ‘Shall I pour you a cup of tea, Lady Daphne?’
‘Thank you, Peggy.’
‘Surely they’d have one staff member there, don’t you think, m’lady?’
‘I do indeed. The housekeeper.’
Peggy said, ‘That’s right, Your Ladyship, a house like that would never be left without a caretaker.’
Daphne watched her hurrying out, thinking what a lovely woman she had become. Her marriage to Gordon, now the senior footman, had been successful, and they were obviously happy together.
He had risen in the ranks of Cavendon after the war, and was a superb head footman, as well as a good right-hand man to Hanson. She relied on Gordon for many things, and he was willing to pitch in, clever in a variety of ways.
I’m glad we gave them the biggest cottage in the village, when it became vacant, Daphne now thought as she took a sip of the tea. And that we broke the rules and allowed Gordon to sleep in his own home. The arrangement has worked out well. Changing times have their assets, it seems.
Daphne’s thoughts slid back to her mother, and the missing jewels. She would get them back no matter what. She knew her father was worried about the stolen pieces. But she had pointed out that there was no way her mother could sell them. Every jeweller in London would know if they went on the market. The Ingham Collection was famous and well documented.
There was a little cough and a shuffling of feet. When Daphne glanced up, she saw her daughter Alicia hovering in the doorway, looking discontented.
‘Darling, why the long face? And do come in, don’t stand there.’ Daphne gave her a welcoming smile, struck by her glowing face despite the sulky expression. She could see the woman in the child, and she realized yet again that her daughter would grow up to be stunning, a true beauty.
The twelve-year-old girl, tall for her age, blonde and blue-eyed, came running in and stopped in front of her mother. She asked in a somewhat plaintive voice, ‘Am I going to be a bridesmaid or not, Mama?’
‘Of course you are, darling, I told you that last night, and we’ve already picked out a blue frock for you.’ Daphne threw her a puzzled look. ‘Why are you so upset?’
‘Charlie said it wasn’t true … about me being a bridesmaid. He said only the aunts were, and that you weren’t a bridesmaid either.’
‘I’m not, actually, I am the matron-of-honour, you see, because I am a married woman and no longer a maiden.’ Daphne shook her head. ‘He’s a scallywag, that brother of yours, he just loves to tease you.’
Daphne stood up, took Alicia in her arms, held her close. ‘You’ll be the most beautiful of us all. I know that.’
Alicia, who adored her mother, clung to her for a moment longer, and then stepped away, glanced up at her. ‘No, you’ll be the most beautiful, Mama. Everyone says you’re the great beauty of the Ingham family.’
‘Oh, they’re just prejudiced, my sweet,’ Daphne laughed.
Alicia’s troubled expression had dissolved. Eagerly, she asked, ‘Shall I tell Nanny she can iron the frock?’
‘Why don’t you do that, Alicia? I’ll see you shortly … for the moment I must continue my work.’
With a smile, Alicia skipped across the room, happiness obviously restored. Staring after her, Daphne felt a sudden glow inside. This child had turned out to be perfect. No, almost perfect, she corrected herself. I want her to be human, with a few naughty traits. There weren’t many, she had to admit that. She was a good girl, but sensitive at this age, and her brother did enjoy teasing her – too much at times.
Returning to her desk by the window, Daphne picked up the guest list, then put it down again. Almost at once, her mind strayed to her mother. The last time she had spoken to Olive Wilson, her mother’s maid had told her that Felicity was unhappy in the marriage.
When Daphne had asked her what had gone awry, Olive had fallen silent, glumly shaking her head, and had changed the subject.
‘We’re not intruding on your privacy, are we?’ Miles asked from the doorway, where he had suddenly appeared with Cecily.
‘You are,’ Daphne answered. ‘But come in anyway.’ She smiled at them and went on, ‘Cecily, you do look lovely. What a smart dress. But then you know that. You designed it. I’m wearing one of yours this evening, that lovely turquoise and green chiffon you made for me in May.’
‘It really suits you, Lady Daphne, and the colours are wonderful for you.’
‘Thank you, Cecily, that’s what my husband says.’
‘Can I look at the guest list?’ Miles asked, businesslike as he usually was.
‘Of course.’ Daphne held it out to him and spoke to Cecily again. ‘Tell me, how do you manage to stay cool and calm with so much going on around you? Cavendon has been in an uproar all day.’
Cecily, who had seated herself in a chair, smiled at Daphne. ‘I ignore it. Concentrate on whatever project I’m working on. I won’t allow anything to distract me.’
‘That’s probably one of the secrets of your great success in business,’ Daphne remarked, meaning this.
‘You can be sure of it,’ Miles interjected. ‘Focus, determination and desire to do it right. That’s always been Ceci’s rule, even when she was little.’
There was such admiration in his voice, Cecily was taken by surprise at this unexpected praise, and looked across at him. How weary he was, and depleted. Her heart went out to him. She had begun to understand how much he had suffered in the last few years. Harry had told her a lot last night, and she knew her brother spoke the truth.
Miles walked over to Daphne and sat down in a chair next to her, studying the list. ‘Who’s this Richard Bowers chap? His name rings a bell.’
A wry smile touched Daphne’s mouth. ‘He’s Aunt Vanessa’s current boyfriend. It’s serious. She told Papa they will be announcing their engagement soon. Apparently she had been intending to tell Papa about him this weekend, and so she asked if she could invite him to the wedding, to meet Papa before he went on his honeymoon. Our father agreed. What else could he do?’
‘So there’s going to be another wedding?’ Miles said.
‘Seemingly so, but listen, the two of you, what I’ve just told you is confidential. Vanessa doesn’t want to announce the engagement yet. He’s from the Barnard family, or rather his mother is, and Great-Aunt Gwendolyn knows her.’
‘I think I know him,’ Miles said. ‘He’s with the Foreign Office, a diplomat.’
‘No, that’s his brother, Clive. Dulcie told me that Richard is in the arts. I’m not sure what he does.’
Miles nodded, then murmured, ‘Ah, I see Mark Stanton is coming, and also Paul Drummond. I’m glad there are a few extra chaps. We can dance.’
‘Dance? What do you mean?’ Daphne asked, her voice rising in alarm.
‘I’ve booked a quartet to play after dinner.’
‘Miles, you didn’t! That’s so expensive,’ Daphne protested.
‘It’s all right, Daphers, I’m footing the bill. It’s … well, sort of my wedding present to Papa and Charlotte, and Cecily has offered to pay for the fireworks display.’
Daphne gaped at her brother. ‘You can’t be serious,’ she spluttered. Sudden anxiety echoed in her voice. ‘Papa and Charlotte wanted a small, very quiet wedding, no fuss. I’m sure this news will upset them.’
‘No, it won’t, you’ll see,’ Miles reassured her, sounding confident. ‘I have been inspired by Aunt Lavinia’s mean-spirited attitude. Cecily and I decided we needed to give the engagement dinner a little bit of a boost.’
‘It will give Aunt Lavinia a bit of a shock,’ Daphne exclaimed, and then laughed when she saw the look on her brother’s face. ‘She will certainly think that a fireworks display is vulgar.’
‘But it’s nicer than having a cream bun pushed in your mouth, don’t you think?’ Dulcie said as she walked into the conservatory.
Miles said, ‘She will be apoplectic when the fireworks start.’ As he looked from his sisters to Cecily, there was a wicked glint in his blue eyes.
Later that afternoon, when Daphne told Hugo about the quartet and the fireworks, he burst out laughing. She was so taken aback by his hilarity, she could only stare at him nonplussed.
Once he had stopped, she asked, ‘Why are you laughing? Papa and Charlotte won’t like it: dancing and fireworks and all the fuss. They wanted a quiet wedding.’
‘Yes, I know. Don’t worry, darling, I do believe your father is aware of Miles’s plans.’
Daphne frowned. ‘You think Miles has told Papa?’
Hugo nodded. ‘The other day Charles made an odd remark to me, about being a bit rusty for the dance floor. He then went on to say something about the villagers coming to the park on Saturday night. Before I could question him, we were interrupted by a very important call from New York. And then I forgot all about it. You know how I am when business intrudes.’
Daphne shook her head. ‘I wonder why Papa didn’t mention it to me? He usually consults with me on everything.’
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Barbara Bradford
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: ‘If you’ve been suffering withdrawal symptoms from Downton, this is for you’ Daily MailA stately home. The roaring twenties. And four spirited girls who must forge a new future for themselves.On a summer weekend in 1926 the Ingham family gathers at the great house in Yorkshire that has been their family home for centuries. With them are the Swanns who have served them for generations – and know all their secrets.The estate is under threat: the aftermath of the Great War has left it facing ruin. Four young women from both sides of the house must shape its future – Daphne, fighting to modernise her ancestral home; Cecily Swann, flying high as a fashion designer in London; Deidre, the career girl, and Dulcie, the outspoken debutante. As the roaring twenties burn towards the Great Depression, nothing will ever be the same again…