The Cavendon Women

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.’