Kitabı oku: «The Cavendon Women»
Copyright
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
For Bob, with all my love always
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Characters
Part One: A Family Reunion
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Part Two: Deceptions Revealed
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Part Three: Women Warriors
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Part Four: Angels in Disguise
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Acknowledgements
Keep Reading
Books by Barbara Taylor Bradford
About the Author
About the Publisher
CHARACTERS
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
A Family Reunion
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
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
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
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
‘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?’
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