“I wasn’t going to mention anything about class. And I’m well aware the world can change in a minute.” He pursed his lips. “After seeing the earl, I will have to tell Ruby. And Dolores and Faye.”
“Please wipe that worried look off your face. They’re not going to make so much as a ripple. They worship the ground you walk on, let me remind you, just in case you’ve forgotten.”
“I don’t suppose anyone will object. I’m a true blue Englishman, a decent man—”
Interrupting him, Felix said, “No, you’re a big star, James, and don’t you ever forget it.”
Forty-one
DeLacy was relieved when she heard Daphne’s voice in the entrance hall of her mother’s Charles Street house. Ever since she had arrived, her mother had been somewhat churlish, or perhaps “gloomy” was a better word.
Wilson had whispered hurriedly that Mr. Pierce was delayed for a week in Paris, and that this had gone down badly with her mother.
Felicity had not been particularly interested in her gift, a distinctive white satin headband edged with diamanté studs, with a white osprey feather attached at one side. It had been expensive and was very stylish, and DeLacy realized she was hurt by her mother’s lackluster reaction.
But now Felicity was smiling. She had also heard Daphne’s voice, and here they were, all of a sudden, coming into the blue-and-white sitting room. Daphne was in the lead, holding Annabel’s hand, followed by Nanny. Bending down to look at her daughter, Daphne said, “This is Grandmama, Annabel. Let us go and say hello to her, shall we?”
Smiling, her pretty face dimpling, the child nodded. Felicity got up from the sofa, her own face full of smiles. Instantly, the two-year-old broke free of Daphne and tottered across the room on her two plump little legs, heading for her grandmother.
Felicity immediately crouched down and opened her arms to this child she had yearned to see for two years. Almost as if she understood this, Annabel flung herself into Felicity’s arms. Mangling the word slightly, she said, “Amama,” obviously unable to pronounce it properly.
DeLacy smiled, enjoying this moment, seeing the pleasure on Felicity’s face. Unexpectedly, much to her surprise, her mother looked younger, and her expression was full of warmth. Obviously this was because of the presence of the two-year-old toddler, who had a mass of curls and looked adorable in a blue dress and matching cardigan.
And yet Annabel was not her first grandchild. Daphne had five children, but only one other was a girl, Alicia. Seemingly, Felicity had never really liked her for some reason. DeLacy had never truly understood her mother’s attitude, her coolness toward Alicia, who was lovely, well behaved, and pleasant, if a little serious.
After a moment, Felicity straightened. “Shall we sit on the sofa together, Annabel?”
The child nodded, and Felicity lifted her up in her arms and put her on the sofa, then sat down next to her.
Daphne bent forward and kissed her mother’s cheek. She said, “It’s lovely to see you, Mama, and Annabel has fallen in love with you, I think. And given you a new name.” Stepping back a few steps Daphne said, “And do you know, she looks a lot like you? Her hair is the same strawberry blond, and her eyes pale blue, just like yours. Not the deep blue of the Inghams.”
These words pleased Felicity, and she said, “Thank you, and for coming, Daphne, and bringing Annabel to see me … I hope we can all be friends again.”
“Of course we can, Mama. Diedre was longing to join us, but unfortunately she couldn’t.” Daphne sat down on the other sofa, next to DeLacy, and Nanny excused herself, saying she would go to the servants’ hall downstairs to wait for them.
“How is Diedre?” Felicity asked, curious about her eldest daughter.
“She’s very well,” Daphne answered. “She’s getting married soon, to an American who runs Hugo’s New York office, Paul Drummond. He’s been here for a few months, and, well, they fell in love.”
“How wonderful for Diedre. When is the wedding?”
“They haven’t set a date yet; they only just got engaged.” Daphne decided to be vague, since she did not know if Diedre was going to invite their mother to her wedding, planned for next month.
DeLacy said, “Mama, something very important: Miles is in London. And he hoped he would be finished with his meetings in time to join us for tea. I thought that might please you.”
There was only the merest hesitation on Felicity’s part before she exclaimed, “I would love to see him.”
At this moment, Ratcliffe the butler appeared in the doorway, accompanied by two parlormaids. “Excuse me, madam, but shall I serve tea?”
“Yes, please do so, Ratcliffe, thank you.”
The butler inclined his head, and motioned for the two maids to wheel in the tea trolleys. He added, “Nanny suggested I include a small glass of milk for Miss Annabel.”
“Oh, thank you very much, Ratcliffe,” Daphne said, smiling at him.
“You seem so much better, Mama,” DeLacy murmured. “You’ve made a good recovery.”
“Yes, I have. I had a heavy cold, not bronchitis, apparently. And how do you feel, Lacy darling? A little happier, I hope.”
“I am. But I think it takes quite a while to get over a divorce. I always seem to be on the verge of tears, although I try hard to be strong.”
“You are strong, darling,” Felicity replied in a positive voice. “I come from good stock, and my father, your grandfather, always told me to be courageous. He had a line he often used, and I think of it often. He would say that life has a way of taking care of itself, and that happens to be true, I’ve discovered. It helps if one tries not to dwell on problems.”
The two parlormaids passed plates of finger sandwiches around; Ratcliffe poured the tea, and then carried the glass of milk over to the sofa, where he set it down on a small table.
As they ate their sandwiches and drank their tea, Daphne and DeLacy managed to keep up a cordial conversation with their mother. Without knowing it, both young women were thinking how odd it was that Felicity had not mentioned Dulcie, or asked how she was.
Daphne was about to introduce the baby of the family into the conversation, when Felicity said, “I heard from my friend Rebecca Gosling; she told me that Vanessa got engaged to someone called Richard Bowers. Is that so?”
“That’s correct,” DeLacy answered. “She is engaged. He’s a Barnard, I believe, and he has some top job at Scotland Yard. You know, high-level management.”
“Really. How interesting. I also heard that Lavinia has cancer. Have you seen her lately? How is she?”
“She’s not too well, Mama.” Daphne’s expression became sad. “Great-Aunt Gwendolyn is in touch with her, but I’m afraid Aunt Lavinia hasn’t been able to socialize at all. She has become friendly with Hugo’s cousin, Mark Stanton. He’s looking after her, and I got the impression that her illness is terminal.”
“How truly awful that is. I remember what my sister Anne went through all those years ago. It’s a monstrous disease.” Felicity shook her head and sat back on the sofa.
At this moment Annabel began to wriggle, and looking at Felicity she mumbled, “Amama, down, down,” and endeavored to slither off the sofa. Daphne immediately leapt up, and caught hold of her before she took a tumble.
“Oh dear, I think she’s getting rather restless,” Daphne muttered. “I’d better go downstairs and fetch Nanny.”
“You don’t have to do that, Daphne,” her mother said. “I can simply ring for Ratcliffe, and he will inform Nanny she’s needed.”
“I want to have a word with Nanny anyway,” Daphne explained. “I won’t be a moment. Back in a jiffy, Mama.”
Drawing Annabel toward her, holding on to the child, DeLacy said, “If you ever want to visit Cecily’s shop in the Burlington Arcade, I can arrange it for you. She has lovely things.” DeLacy knew she must distract her mother for a moment or two, because Daphne had actually gone to speak to Olive Wilson. They had to stick to the plan and the timetable.
“I would be happy to take you anytime you wish.”
Daphne returned to the sitting room and took charge of her daughter. “Nanny will be here in a moment. She’s just having a cup of tea. Then I think she should take Annabel home, Mama. It’s about time for her to have a little nap.”
* * *
It was with some relief that Miles saw Nanny wheeling the pushchair up Charles Street, heading in the direction of Grosvenor Square. Everything was going to plan. It was exactly fifteen minutes to five, and he was on time. In a moment or two, he would have to confront his mother, and leave her house with the jewelry she had taken from Cavendon Hall years ago. He prayed it would not be too much of a verbal struggle, and that he could handle her. Felicity Pierce was no longer the woman he had known when he was a child.
From the moment he walked into the blue-and-white sitting room, Miles Ingham knew two things: He must be in total control of the situation at all times, and he must not antagonize his mother at the outset of this visit.
He therefore smiled warmly, walked over and kissed her on the cheek, and said, “It’s lovely to see you, Mama. And I must add, you look positively beautiful. You never get any older.” He took a chair facing her, his smile intact.
Felicity, who had been hesitant about seeing him earlier, now wondered why she had been apprehensive. He was his usual pleasant self, and very gallant, which had always been his way. Miles had a lot of charm, as well as good looks, and a very astute brain. In certain ways, he had been her favorite of all her children, perhaps because he reminded her a lot of her father, Malcolm Wallace, the famous tycoon.
Felicity said, “I shall ring for Ratcliffe, so that he can bring us a fresh pot of tea. Would you like some of the finger sandwiches, Miles?”
“Thank you, Mama, so kind. But I had rather a late lunch. And you don’t have to ring for Ratcliffe. When he let me in I told him all I wanted was a cup of tea.”
As if on cue, a moment later, Ratcliffe arrived with a tray set with tea things, and placed it on a table, poured a cup of tea for Miles, and departed.
Daphne said, “You look smart, Miles, my compliments on your suit. Savile Row?”
“Yes, but old, I’ve had it for years. Giles, my tailor, did a few crucial alterations and spruced it up a bit.”
“What on earth is going on in your life, Miles? I know you and Clarissa are separated, but isn’t there going to be a divorce?” Felicity held him with her eyes.
“I’m afraid not, simply because she refuses to give me a divorce,” Miles told his mother, grimacing. “She is as unmovable as a rock. And sticking to her guns. She doesn’t need money and she doesn’t want a divorce. And that’s that.”
Felicity let out a long sigh. “I never understand women who want to cling on to men who don’t want them. It’s ridiculous. And what you’re saying is that you have nothing to bargain with, because of her father’s great wealth. She doesn’t need your house or your alimony.”
“Exactly.”
“Would you like me to go and see her, Miles? Intervene for you. Clarissa always liked me, a lot actually, and I might be able to drill a bit of sense into her.”
“That’s so nice of you, Mama, very kind, but it won’t work. I know her, and she won’t give an inch. But look, you never know, do you? Life can come up and hit you in the face, give you a hard blow. Or it can caress you, and make your dreams come true. Yes, that’s life. Unpredictable.”
Felicity laughed. “Certainly my life has been unpredictable.”
“It surely has,” Miles agreed. He leaned forward and focused his gaze on his mother. “Whilst I’m here, I need to ask you something, Mama.”
Looking at him swiftly, detecting a change in his voice, she said, “Yes, of course, what is it?”
“I can’t help asking how much of a muddle your jewelry is in.”
“My jewelry? It’s not in a muddle! It’s all well taken care of, I can assure you of that.” Felicity appeared to be genuinely puzzled by his question, and stared back, looking askance at him.
Miles said, “I’m glad to hear it. Because you won’t have any trouble sorting out the pieces which belong to me, as the heir to the earldom and the Ingham Estate.”
“What? What are you talking about?” Felicity’s voice rose an octave as she spoke.
“Look, Mama, I am not accusing you of anything, just explaining that when you left Cavendon years ago, you inadvertently took jewelry you may have thought was yours. But it wasn’t. Isn’t, I should say. It belongs to the Ingham Estate.”
“All of my jewelry was given to me by my father,” she cried, outraged.
“No, it wasn’t. Some of it comes from the vaults at Cavendon. You wore it for many years, and you therefore may believe it’s yours. But as I just said, it isn’t.”
Felicity swallowed, knowing that she was in trouble. It had never occurred to her that anyone would notice, come asking for it back. Charles was so careless about possessions. But this was Miles, and he was very different.
Looking directly at him, about to start a string of lies, she stopped herself. His blue eyes were full of ice, and there was such a cold expression on his face, she shrank back on the sofa. His father was soft, weak; Miles was just the opposite of Charles. Tough, ruthless, and he could be as hard as nails. These traits had been inherited from her father, that she knew. And at this moment she understood she could never win with her son.
Before she could say anything more, Miles was handing her a piece of paper. “This is the list of the items which belong to the Ingham Estate. I think it might refresh your memory. I know how easy it is to get things mixed up.”
Felicity took the paper from him, knowing she had no choice. Her eyes ran down the list. It was correct. She glanced up as Miles began to speak once again.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you said,” Felicity muttered.
“I was explaining that I was at our solicitors’ the other day, and they drew up a legal document, requesting the return of all the pieces. Immediately. To be handed to me,” Miles said in a level voice. “This is just a simple letter, Mama, but if you do not comply with their request on my behalf, I will have to instruct them to send you a legal writ. And you may have to go into a court of law to defend yourself.” He handed the letter to her.
“My God, Miles, I’m your mother! How can you say things like this? You are accusing me of—”
“Stop right there,” Daphne said. “Miles hasn’t accused you of anything, Mama. He has asked you to sort out the muddle of your jewelry boxes and give back what is ours. That’s all.”
Miles said, “Perhaps Wilson could help you, Mama. After all, she’s been handling all of your jewelry for years. She probably understands what’s what better than you.”
DeLacy stood up. This was her cue. “I’ll go down to the servants’ hall, Mama. I think Miles has had a good idea. Wilson will certainly know where everything is, won’t she?”
Felicity did not answer. She looked from DeLacy to Daphne, and back to Miles. And she understood then, knew suddenly what this had all been about. Bringing Annabel to tea had simply been a ploy to get them into her house. And now they were ganged up on her, the three of them, and about to take away her precious jewels. All that she had left in her life that gave her any pleasure these days. Certainly she didn’t get any pleasure from her husband, Lawrence Pierce, the world’s greatest fornicator. He was in Paris with his mistress, she knew that. Her jealousy rose up in her throat like bile as she thought of him with another woman, giving her what she was meant to get from him. And when he returned to London he would be giving it to Helen Malone, the actress and his other whore.
Unable to stand being in this room, Felicity jumped up at exactly the same moment Olive Wilson walked in with DeLacy.
Glaring at them, Felicity said in a choked voice, “Let us all go upstairs and we’ll catch them.”
>
Miles glanced at Wilson swiftly, scowling, a quizzical look in his eyes. Wilson shook her head slightly, and stood aside to let Felicity walk past her.
“Go ahead, Daphne, and you too, DeLacy. You can both help Mama.”
They did as he suggested.
Miles put out a hand, and held Olive Wilson back. “What does she mean … catch them?”
“It’s not important, sir. Mrs. Pierce sometimes makes mistakes like that these days. I think what she meant to say was we’ll get them. Meaning get the jewels.”
“I understand. Come with me, Wilson; you are the best person to help us sort it out. She trusts you. I’m perfectly certain she doesn’t trust me.”
* * *
Felicity sat in a chair in her bedroom, saying nothing, as Wilson and DeLacy brought out velvet bags of jewelry. They had all been in the safe. This was inside a locked cupboard in Felicity’s dressing room.
Miles and Daphne opened the bags, checked everything off on the list, and when they were satisfied, Miles said to DeLacy, “Please go downstairs. When you open the front door you should find Eric there, with Hartley in the Rolls. And Harry, too. They’ll come up with suitcases, help us to carry everything down. And Eric and Harry will put them in the vault at the house. They’ll be transferred to Cavendon as soon as possible.”
Forty-two
It was DeLacy who knew all of the best nightclubs and restaurants in London. This was because Simon, her ex-husband, was a dashing young man-about-town, a dandy who fancied himself, and loved to go out every night to show himself off. That’s what they had done when they had been married. He had been proud to have DeLacy on his arm, looking beautiful in a very short dress, the style favored by the flappers, and wearing lots of the jewelry he had given her.
Her ex-husband’s favorite nightspot was the Gargoyle Club on Meard Street, a regular haunt for artists and aristocrats. It had been founded in 1925 by Simon’s friend, another aristocrat called David Tennant. It was sumptuously decorated, and some of the glamorous interiors had been done by the French painter Henri Matisse. The Gargoyle boasted a four-piece orchestra, and, as in all nightclubs, food had to be served with the liquor because of the law. A lot of it went uneaten, because most people arrived late, after dinner.
The Cavendon Women Page 26
