Cavendon Hall

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  Across the room, Charlotte was seated next to Guy Ingham, and she was enjoying being with him. She was glad she had come to tea. She usually had a good time, mainly because the teas were more relaxed than the family dinners, which were formal and far too long. And often a little pretentious.

  Guy, who usually managed to make her laugh, did so now when he said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Aunt Gwendolyn just informed me she has found the most suitable girl for me. She is going to introduce me to her at the supper dance next weekend. You can bet she will be as ugly as sin, but an heiress with a vast fortune at her disposal.”

  Once her laughter had subsided, Charlotte remarked, “Lady Gwendolyn does try hard to be the matchmaker, and let’s face it, she does manage to dig up heiresses, that’s absolutely true.” There was a pause, and then Charlotte asked, “But what happened to Violet Lansing? I thought you were rather taken with her, Guy. At least that’s the impression you gave me at Easter.” She sat back in the chair, gazing at him. He was special to her; she had known him since he was born. Now she noticed that his face had suddenly changed. His expression was unexpectedly sorrowful, his light blue eyes stricken.

  After a moment, taking a deep breath, Guy said, sotto voce, “It was brought to my attention that Violet wasn’t quite suitable for the heir to an earldom.” He sighed heavily. “I was on the verge of … well, becoming rather involved with her, and just caught myself in time. So I let the situation…” He shrugged, and went on softly, “… just drift until it drifted away. I felt the need to be kind to Violet. I didn’t want to hurt her.”

  Guy sat back, and then offered Charlotte a warm smile. “No point in bashing my head against steel. That’s not going to do any good. They didn’t want her in my life.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Charlotte murmured, then touched his arm lightly. “You’ll meet someone who is exactly right in every way. One day. You’ll see, it will happen.”

  “I know. That’s what Papa said to me. But there will never be anybody like Violet…” He allowed his sentence to trail off, knowing his life had been settled for him long ago. So why belabor the point about his lost love … probably the love of his life.

  Charlotte was about to sympathize with him, when Diedre came and sat down next to Charlotte. Addressing Guy, she asked, “Did Papa say anything about the London season? Or aren’t we going up to town this year?”

  “I don’t know, and frankly, Didi, I don’t care,” her brother answered. “I personally love it here at Cavendon in the summer. The tennis, the cricket, the swimming, the fishing, the supper dances and summer entertaining. And the shooting when it starts on the Glorious Twelfth.”

  “But we’re always here for the Glorious Twelfth in August. That’s a given. I’m talking about now, Guy, July,” Diedre protested.

  Guy said, “I don’t think we’ll be going to London this year. At least not as a family, for the season. Because Aunt Anne is too ill, and Mama doesn’t want to be too far away. At least that’s what Daphne told me.”

  “Oh, what does old Daphers know, she’s only interested in how she looks.”

  Guy threw his sister an odd look, wondering why she was being mean, and changed the subject. He started to talk about Hugo Stanton, who was coming to visit them soon, asking Charlotte a lot of questions about Hugo, whom she had known years ago.

  There was a sudden explosion of noise as a small figure, intent on making her presence felt, came rushing into the room, exclaiming, “I’ve come to tea, Papa! I can, can’t I? I have to be at the party.”

  At the sight of Dulcie flying across the floor as fast as her little feet would carry her, Charles jumped up from the sofa where he was sitting with his aunt. He immediately grabbed hold of his youngest child and swept her up into his arms. She had been about to entangle herself in the feet of the parlor maid, Mary, who was carrying a tray of fresh tea sandwiches over to Hanson, waiting near one of the tea trolleys.

  “There we are, my darling,” Charles murmured, holding Dulcie against his chest. “Yes, you’re going to have tea. But first, how would you like to come with me to make an important telephone call?”

  “Oh yes, Papa, I would. Can I speak on the teffolone?”

  Everyone laughed, enjoying the antics of the pretty, if somewhat boisterous, child. Charles laughed too as he hurried off to the library, relieved he had managed to avert an accident with the maid.

  He placed Dulcie in his desk chair, and said, “Now be a good girl, darling, and once I have made the telephone call we will go back and have tea. You’d like a piece of jam roll, wouldn’t you? And strawberries and cream?”

  “Ooh, yes, Papa. I’ll be a good girl,” Dulcie told him, smiling up at him brightly. She loved Papa and she was glad she was here with him. Now her sisters would know she was his favorite. She settled back against the leather chair, still smiling broadly, her little face radiant.

  Picking up the telephone, Charles asked the exchange for the London number on the piece of paper. A moment or two later, an operator was announcing that this was Claridge’s Hotel on the line. He asked for Mr. Hugo Stanton.

  A moment later a masculine voice said, “Hello. Stanton speaking.”

  “Your cousin Charles here, Hugo. I received your message of earlier, and called you back as soon as I could.”

  “How wonderful to hear your voice after all these years!” Hugo exclaimed, sounding genuinely pleased. “I telephoned you because I was hoping I might be able to change the date of my visit to Yorkshire.”

  For a moment Charles was taken aback, but he said evenly, “Yes, of course. When would you prefer to come?”

  “I was wondering, and rather hoping, that you would agree to this coming Friday. For a few days, as we’d always planned.”

  Charles, somewhat startled, hesitated before saying, “I think it will be all right, Hugo. I must warn you, we have a supper dance this weekend. If that does not disturb you, I think the change will be suitable. I must check with Felicity, of course. However, I don’t see why not, old chap,” he finished, wanting to be cordial.

  “Thank you, Charles. And by the way, I do like to dance, so I’ll dance for my supper, so to speak. I would just like to add that I don’t usually do this sort of thing, change dates. However, I have just been informed I must attend an important meeting in Zurich that very weekend I was due to come to Yorkshire. The dates clash, I’m afraid.”

  “I do understand, I assure you. These things happen occasionally. No problem at all. It’s white tie, of course. I will telephone you tomorrow morning to confirm everything with you.”

  “Thank you so much, Charles, and I can’t wait to come back to Cavendon. Good night.”

  “Good night,” Charles answered, and put the receiver down. He then picked up Dulcie and left the library.

  She exclaimed, “You didn’t let me speak.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, Dulcie, the man was in a hurry. So now we can go and have jam roll and strawberries and cream. Scrumptious.”

  From the doorway of the yellow sitting room, holding Dulcie in his arms, Charles announced, “Now listen to this bit of news, all of you.”

  Everyone turned to stare at him.

  “I just spoke to Hugo Stanton and he’s arriving here next Friday afternoon instead of later in July.”

  “How wonderful!” Aunt Gwendolyn exclaimed. “I can’t wait to see him again.”

  “Someone new to dance with, Papa!” DeLacy cried.

  Felicity asked, “How did this come about, Charles?”

  “Hugo telephoned earlier, when I was out walking. I just spoke to him. He’s staying at Claridge’s Hotel. And he has a conflict with dates. It is all right, isn’t it? Next weekend?”

  “Yes. It’s not a problem. And DeLacy is correct. It will be nice to have a new guest, and especially a cousin we haven’t seen for so long. He can dance with all the young ladies, as Lacy suggested. And perhaps some of the older ones, too.”

  Twenty-two

  “Want to go out for a
stroll?” Gordon Lane asked, smiling at Peggy. “I feel like a cig, and a breath of air.”

  She smiled back. “Why not? I’ll just tell Cook.”

  Gordon nodded. He took off his tie, waistcoat, and jacket, hung them on a peg, and pushed the packet of cigarettes and matches into a trouser pocket.

  “Cook says it’s all right,” Peggy told him, coming back into the servants’ hall. “But she says not to stay out too long. She’ll wait for us.” Peggy grinned. “Mrs. Jackson says she doesn’t want Hanson locking us out.”

  “And he would too, the silly old bugger.”

  “Gordon, be careful,” Peggy hissed, taking off her cap and apron and hanging them on another peg. “Come on, let’s have that stroll before he arrives on the scene and stops us.”

  The two of them went out of the back door, and Gordon, taking hold of Peggy’s hand, said, “Let’s walk down to the bluebell woods. I’ll have a cig, and then we’ll walk back. Half an hour at the most. All right with you?”

  She nodded. “I don’t want to go into the woods, though, Gordon. It’s scary in there in the dark.”

  He looked down, grinning at her. “You’ve got me to protect you, my lass, and anyway it’s not so dark tonight. Look at that there full moon shining down on us. Romantic, eh?”

  Peggy was silent for a moment, then she said quietly in a firm voice, “I won’t do it, Gordon. I hope you understand that. I don’t mind a bit of a cuddle and a few kisses, but that’s all.”

  “I know. You’re always telling me that. Just a kiss and a cuddle, then. Anyway, we can’t be outside for too long, we don’t want to get locked out. Then we’d have to sleep in the stables.”

  Peggy just smiled, said nothing.

  They walked on in silence, lost in their own thoughts. They had no way of knowing it, but they were thinking about each other.

  Peggy had grown more and more enamored of Gordon Lane over the last few weeks. He was tall, strongly built, and a handsome young man, but what appealed to her also was his kindness. He had been on her side ever since she’d started at Cavendon Hall, always ready to defend her when necessary.

  Malcolm Smith, the head footman, was also nice-looking, but not as nice a person as Gordon. And she’d seen him flirting with both the other maids, Mary Ince and Elsie Roland. Gordon had told her that Malcolm was a skirt chaser, and it was true.

  Even though he knew she and Gordon were becoming close, he’d tried to feel her breast in the pantry, and she’d slapped his face hard. He hadn’t come near her again.

  Peggy knew she was infatuated with Gordon, and that he was with her. However, there was a problem. He wanted her to go all the way, and she wanted this too. But because of her last bad experience she was afraid, had vowed to herself that she would not get herself into trouble a second time.

  And so she was on her guard tonight as they walked toward the woods. She must not let her desire for him get the better of her. She must be chaste, but without hurting his feelings.

  For his part, Gordon was completely involved with Peggy Swift. He had fallen hard for her almost the moment she had started working at Cavendon. She was a good-looking woman, with expressive eyes, lovely curves, and an extremely nice nature. She was also intelligent, and clever, in many different ways.

  He wanted to seduce her, yet he had also begun to realize she was a woman he would be happy to marry. He would have to curb his raging emotions, his lust for her; otherwise things could go horribly wrong.

  Although she didn’t know it, he was well aware she had a child. There was always gossip downstairs. He also knew the man had left her in the lurch, and run off to America. Bastard, he cursed under his breath, came to a stop, and got out his cigarettes.

  Once he lit the cigarette, the two of them ambled on. “I’ll be a good boy,” he suddenly announced. “I won’t hurt you in any way, or get you into trouble. Just a few kisses though, eh? You don’t mind that, do you?”

  “No,” she said. “I’d like that, too. Nothing else though.”

  By the time they came to the bluebell woods, Gordon had finished his cigarette. He stubbed it out on a log, and led her toward the edge of the woods, where the grassy glade was located. They sat down on the grass and Gordon put his arm around her, began to kiss her neck, and then unexpectedly he pushed her down, bent over her, and kissed her passionately. He let his tongue linger against hers, and then brought his hand to her dress, opened the top buttons, feeling for her breast.

  Peggy struggled. “No, Gordon, don’t. Please don’t. You’ll get me far too agitated.”

  He paid no attention to her words.

  Bending his head, he sucked on her nipple, and at the same time he pulled her closer, crushing himself against her body.

  He was hard against her thigh, obviously highly charged, and she was melting inside as he sucked on her breast. Then a red flag went up in her head, and she knew she must keep a grip on herself.

  “Let’s stop,” she whispered. And he did at once, knowing he had no choice. He did not want to scare her away.

  Gordon brought his mouth to hers, and devoured it. At the same time, he lifted her skirt with one hand, and was working his fingers inside her knickers until he found the core of her womanhood.

  Pushing himself up on one elbow, Gordon looked down into her face, murmured lovingly, “You look so beautiful in the moonlight, Peggy. I want to touch you. I want you, but I won’t force you … just say I can touch you … here, like this.” He stroked her, his fingers lingering inside her.

  Her mouth was dry and she could only nod. He kissed her face and then slowly continued to stroke her until she was moaning.

  Against her face, he whispered, “Let go, relax, come on, let me give you pleasure. I just want to please you, Peg.” She did as he asked and within seconds she was stiffening, and then she began to spasm, calling his name.

  Gordon clutched her to him with both his arms, holding her tightly as if never to let her go. “Did I please you? I did, I know that, because I saw your face. I saw how much you enjoyed my loving touches.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, sounding suddenly shy. “You did please me, but that wasn’t really fair to you. And I—” Peggy did not finish her sentence. She broke off, and stiffened in his arms, alert all of a sudden.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning, knowing something unusual had suddenly caught her attention.

  “Shhhhh,” she said softly. “There’s someone else here in the woods, Gordon.”

  They both sat up, listening attentively. They heard twigs snapping again. There was someone coming through the trees, heading in their direction, and hurrying faster.

  Gordon jumped up, pulled Peggy to her feet, and together they fled out of the woods and rushed up the hill to Cavendon. They ran all the way there, and were out of breath when they reached the backyard.

  The two of them stood panting near the stone wall, staring at each other. After a moment, Peggy said, “It was a man, that I’m sure of, Gordon. His step was heavy; that’s why we heard the twigs snapping. Knowing someone was there, maybe watching us, frightened me. Do you think it was a Peeping Tom?”

  “Who’d be out there at this hour?” Gordon wondered aloud.

  “Well, we were,” Peggy replied, and smiled at him, her love shining on her face. “Thank you for being … respectful, Gordon.”

  Bending closer to her, he took her face in his hands and kissed her lightly on the lips. Then he finally made an important decision, and said, “Will you marry me, Peggy Swift? Will you be mine forever? Will you be my wife?”

  She was so taken by surprise, so startled by his proposal, she couldn’t speak for a moment. Finally she said, “I will, Gordon Lane. I will! I will! I will!” She flung her arms around him, hugged him. And they kissed, then drew apart.

  Peggy stood looking up at him, fully understanding that she loved this man with all her heart, and she knew she had to tell him the truth about herself. It would be deceitful not to explain about Kevin.

&nbs
p; She said quietly, “There’s something I must tell you, Gordon. I have—”

  He cut her off when he said, “A child. Yes, I know that. And it doesn’t change my feelings. I love you, Peggy, and when we can do it, he’ll come and live with us. I’ll be his father as well as your husband.”

  Peggy drew close to him again, tears filling her eyes. She blinked them away. “Thank you for saying that, Gordon. And I promise I’ll be the best wife.”

  At this moment the back door opened, and Cook stood in the corridor of bright light shining out from inside the kitchen. She beckoned to them urgently.

  Holding hands, they ran toward her. She ushered them into the kitchen, and said, “Hanson’s on the prowl. Light a cigarette, Gordon, real quick, me lad. Now listen … yer’ve been outside in the yard for a few minutes, for a smoke. I just called yer to come in. Which I did, didn’t I?”

  Gordon nodded, quickly lit up.

  Hanson appeared in the kitchen several seconds later, and nodded when he saw them. After going over to the back door and locking it, he turned and went toward the corridor. “Good night. Good night to you all,” he called, and headed off.

  “Good night, Mr. Hanson,” Gordon and Peggy said in unison with Cook.

  * * *

  Much later that night, as she lay in her bed in the maids’ quarters, thinking of Gordon and about marrying him, Peggy was filled with growing happiness. She knew they would be good together, and that they’d make a good team. After a while, her thoughts went back to the bluebell woods. She was certain someone had been there, hidden in amongst the trees, and so was Gordon. She couldn’t help wondering if he’d seen Gordon fondling her.

  A Peeping Tom? But who? Surely not one of their woodsmen? Or a villager? She wondered if she should tell Cook or Mrs. Thwaites? Perhaps even Mr. Hanson? Then Peggy decided against this, instantly changed her mind. That would be revealing too much about where she had been with Gordon. Besides, what good would it do? She must warn Gordon tomorrow morning, tell him not to mention the man in the woods. No one must know they had been down there when they were not supposed to go out of the house at night. The rules were strict at Cavendon. And Hanson made sure they were kept.