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
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 savor the beauty of Cavendon. For her it was the one true place on this planet, the place she was happiest and the 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 jeweler’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 split second, she said, “You’ve always been so kind to me, Lady Gwendolyn, and you’ve never passed judgment 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
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 terra-cotta-tiled floor, she turned around in her chair, and her face lit up when she saw Peggy Swift coming toward 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 co
mment, 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 blond 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, and 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 managed to soothe him earlier today, pointing out that there was no way her mother could sell them. Every jeweler in London would know if they went on the market. The Ingham collection was well documented, and famous.
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, blond 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 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 honor, 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, and 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, glancing 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. 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.
The odd thing was, only a few weeks later, Great-Aunt Gwendolyn had made a remark about Pierce being a bad husband. Daphne had pressed her aunt to explain what she meant, but Lady Gwendolyn had suddenly become uncommunicative.
“We’re not intruding on your privacy, are we?” Miles asked from the doorway, where he suddenly hovered 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 colors 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, 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 his laughter ceased, 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.”
“He probably thinks you’re too busy. You do have a lot to deal with, Daphne.” There was a small pause before Hugo added, “Miles would never do anything rash. He would always seek advice from your father. He’s been your brother all his life and yours.” Hugo laughed. “Hadn’t you noticed he always plays by the rules? His disastrous marriage to Clarissa is a good example of that.”
When she was silent, Hugo said, “Miles looks more cheerful, no doubt because Cecily is with him, and frankly, I think he’s enjoying having a bit of fun with the wedding.”
The Cavendon Women Page 9
