The Cavendon Women

  “I suppose so. It all depends on how you treat me now, you know. I won’t stand for any of that old nonsense.”

  Diedre wanted to laugh at Dulcie’s outspokenness, but she swallowed hard, and said, “I promise I won’t verbally abuse you. Or upset you in any way.”

  “All right.” Dulcie now gave her a pointed look. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  “Because I like you. No, I love you. You’re my sister, after all, and we should all stick together, be close. Closer than we’ve been in the past.”

  Dulcie was still wondering what this was about, what had brought it on. She exclaimed, “That’s an odd thing for you to say. You used to behave as if I was a poisonous snake.”

  A look of chagrin flowed across Diedre’s face, and she felt a tightening in her chest. How could she have behaved in such a dreadful way toward her baby sister? It was suddenly incomprehensible to her. And then it hit her. She had been unhappy at that time, at odds with the family, and she had taken it out on a child. Shame filled her, rendered her silent. She had been a mean-spirited woman, it seemed, and she was saddened.

  After a moment, Dulcie said, “You’re looking morose. What is it? Is there something wrong, Diedre?”

  There was such concern in her sister’s voice, Diedre felt even worse, and she did not answer. After a short silence she finally said, “I am feeling very ashamed of myself for treating you the way I did … after all, you were only a child, as you just reminded me.”

  “Perhaps you were a little jealous, because Papa spoiled and pampered me.”

  “You might be right,” Diedre concurred. Thirteen years ago she had faced many problems in the family, jealousy one of them.

  “I was his favorite, and still am,” Dulcie now announced, giving Diedre a hard stare.

  With a faint smile, Diedre replied, “He’s clever, our darling father, and he always has been. He makes each of his four daughters feel special, that each one of us is his favorite, and the one he loves the most. And, in fact, he does. He loves us all equally.”

  “True. More than I can say about Felicity. She was no mother to me. She’s an odd one. Everyone says it’s because she’s under the influence of the knife-wielding Lawrence Pierce … that she’s so strange these days, I mean. What do you think? And is he really a blond Adonis, with the glamorous looks of a matinee idol jumping around a stage in the West End? A man so well endowed no woman can resist him?”

  Diedre burst out laughing. “My goodness, what colorful language you use, Dulcie. You’re certainly a chip off two old blocks, mine and Aunt Gwendolyn’s.”

  “Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?” Dulcie asked, a blond brow lifting.

  “Our great-aunt would think it was. I have a feeling she’s rather proud of her way with words, even if she’s a bit tart at times. As I often am myself.”

  “So be it. Have you ever met Felicity’s little playfellow?”

  “Once or twice, in the early days of their relationship, just after the war started. And yes, he is very good-looking, loaded with charm, but full of himself. He’s a brilliant surgeon, everyone says that. But doctors like him, who save lives and perform miracles of a sort, are egomaniacs. They think they’re God and untouchable. And also to be revered on bended knee.”

  “I’ve heard that before, and the quote about being God is always attributed to you, Diedre, if you care about such things.”

  “I don’t, and you were a neglected child, in my opinion, at least you were neglected by Felicity. Others loved you very much and took care of you in her absence. Still, our mother was behaving in a weird way in those days, and her mind was elsewhere.”

  “I can well imagine exactly where it was. On the scalpel-happy doctor. And a certain part of his anatomy.”

  Diedre stared at her, pushed back a chuckle, and asked, “Have you ever thought of being a writer, Dulcie?”

  “Occasionally, but I’m studying art history … I love paintings, and occasionally I’ve thought I might open an art gallery when I grow up.”

  “I think you’re grown up now. And that’s a great idea. In the meantime, has DeLacy arrived yet?”

  “She has, and I heard her crying a short while ago. I went into her bedroom and comforted her. I think she regrets her divorce, but I told her to buck up, and get ready. So she pulled herself together, and said she was glad to be here with all of us … in the middle of the Clan Ingham was the way she put it.”

  “Shall I go and see her? She is all right, isn’t she?”

  “She is, I’m sure of that. She was focusing on what to wear when I left her room, so you don’t have to go and see her.”

  “And why did you come to see me? Since I was so horrid to you. Please tell me.”

  Dulcie stood up, walked across to Diedre, and stood in front of her. She said, “I wanted to find out if you still frightened me. I was relieved to discover you don’t. And listen, we can be friends now. After all, we are sisters…” She let her sentence drift away, and went to the door, opening it. “I’m going to go and get ready.”

  “I shall too, Dulcie. I’ll see you downstairs,” Diedre answered, feeling better than she had in a long time. She knew this was because of her chat with Dulcie. There had been a clearing of the air.

  Also, she was very taken with her youngest sister, the baby of the family, Dulcie. She had been a pretty child, and had grown up to be a true beauty. She had a glamour about her, with her flowing blond hair, worn shoulder length. Her face was soft; her full mouth, high cheekbones, and arched brows gave her a strong look of Daphne at the same age.

  She’s got it all, Diedre thought, walking over to the wardrobe to take out a frock. She’ll go far, our little Dulcie.

  Nine

  Anger had replaced DeLacy’s tears as she discarded dress after dress, throwing them on the bed, a look of disgust on her face. There was nothing in her wardrobe here at Cavendon that she liked; they were old frocks, out of date for the most part, and not so flattering anymore, she was sure of that.

  She stood glaring at them scattered across her bed, when there was a knock on the door. Before she had a chance to speak, Miles walked in.

  “I came to see what you were doing. My God, DeLacy, you’re not even ready!” he exclaimed, slightly annoyed.

  “Only because I’ve nothing to wear,” she wailed, staring at her brother. “I brought several things for the evening, but I didn’t bother about day frocks…” Her voice trailed off helplessly.

  Miles came over to the bed, and started to examine the dresses. Finally, he picked out a pale gray-and-white silk afternoon frock with a full skirt, a square neckline, and flowing sleeves. “This looks quite stylish. I’d wear this if I were you.”

  “That’s a funny expression to use, Miles, since you’re a man. But no doubt you like it because it’s an old Cecily Swann frock.”

  He nodded, and smiled knowingly. “Of course it is, her style is inimitable. That’s why she’s the success she is today.” He noticed DeLacy’s mouth tighten, and he knew the reason why. Cecily and DeLacy were no longer friends, and had not been for years.

  He glanced at his watch. “Come on, put this on, it’s really beautiful, Lacy, and certainly it doesn’t look dated. With some jewelry, it’ll look quite different. Smart.”

  DeLacy sighed. “I suppose I have no option. All right, I’ll wear it. But I don’t have time to ring for Pam, and wait for her to come up. You’ll have to help me.” As she spoke, DeLacy picked up the dress and hurried into the bathroom. “Wait for me, Miles, please, don’t leave.”

  “I’ll be here,” he promised, strolled over to the window, and glanced out. In the distance he could see the lake and the two swans floating across the water. It had been his ancestor Humphrey Ingham who had decreed there would forever be swans at Cavendon, in recognition of James Swann, who had been his liege man hundreds of years ago, and the truest friend Humphrey had ever had. And they’ve been true ever since, Miles thought. For more than one hundred seventy years
…

  “Here I am!” DeLacy cried, sounding more cheerful, and swinging around, she went on, “If you could do the buttons for me, Miles. Then all I have to do is put on a string of pearls, and earrings, and I’m ready.”

  He did as she asked, saying as he did, “You look beautiful and the dress is lovely. I think you and Cecily should make up, by the way, become friends again.”

  “I’ve tried. Many times, even asked her aunt Dorothy to let me buy clothes there. But I’ve been rejected every time. They just don’t give an inch.”

  “Maybe Ceci will relent, if I ask her,” Miles murmured, fastening the last button. “I’ll talk to her later today.”

  “She’s here!” DeLacy exclaimed as she turned around to face him, surprise in her eyes. “And she’s talking to you?” DeLacy was astonished.

  “Yes, actually, she is,” Miles answered carefully.

  “I can’t believe it! I thought she would never speak to you again. Why didn’t you tell me she was going to be here?”

  Miles sighed. “I’ve been far too busy, I wasn’t keeping it from you. But please, Lacy, hurry up. We mustn’t keep Papa waiting.”

  “Just another second, and do let’s go downstairs together. I won’t be a moment.” As DeLacy spoke she hurried over to her dressing table, took out a string of pearls, put them on, began to look for her earrings that matched.

  Miles said, “I shall talk to Cecily later this afternoon, and perhaps I can persuade her to relent, now that six years have passed. Perhaps she’ll agree to a rapprochement. Do you want me to do that?”

  “Yes, I do, Miles, as long as there are no recriminations, or anything like that … I mean the placing of blame, I’ve been blamed enough of late.”

  “By Simon, you mean?” her brother asked, looking across the bedroom at her.

  “Oh yes, and yes, and yes! Long ago, I discovered he loves to whine. And he’s doing it now, moaning and groaning that the failure of our marriage is all my fault.”

  “Is it?” he asked.

  DeLacy swung around to face him, shaking her head. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s his … to tell you the truth it’s nobody’s fault. It just happened … it’s the way it is. And I know I can’t remarry him, as he wants me to. I simply can’t, Miles.”

  “You don’t have to protest to me. I know exactly what you mean. When a relationship doesn’t work it’s hell on earth.”

  * * *

  Although Miles had told DeLacy she looked beautiful, he was nonetheless worried about her. She was much thinner, and had a gauntness about her. Yes, her face was still delicate, beautifully proportioned, but her shorter hair did not really suit her. He was not particularly enamored of these sleek, cropped hairdos, found them masculine. He thought he could get Cecily to become Lacy’s friend again, and she would influence his sister. As they walked downstairs together, he made up his mind to help DeLacy through this difficult period of her life. Fragile though she was at this moment, he knew she was strong. After all, she was an Ingham.

  Ten

  The library door was closed, but Hanson opened it without even knocking, and walked in. The earl was expecting him.

  Charles Ingham was sitting at his desk. He looked up and nodded at the sight of the butler. “I’m assuming all my daughters and sisters have arrived, Hanson?”

  “That is so, m’lord,” Hanson answered, walking forward. “The young ladies are in their rooms, and I have spoken to Lady Gwendolyn. I told her tea will be at four-thirty today, and I’ve given the same information to Lady Vanessa, as you requested. She is also in her suite. Apparently Lady Lavinia was with Lady Gwendolyn when I telephoned, and the message was relayed to her, your lordship.”

  “Thank you, Hanson. As I told you earlier, I don’t want to be disturbed once my children have come down.”

  Hanson said, “I understand, Lord Mowbray.” There was a momentary pause, then Hanson murmured, with a slight twinkle in his eye, “I could stand guard outside, m’lord, if you so wish.”

  Charles burst out laughing. “I don’t think that will be necessary, but thank you for offering.”

  The butler inclined his head and excused himself. Charles rose, and walked across to the hearth, where he stood with his back to the fire, thinking about his children. He had no qualms about what he was about to tell them. He was quite certain they would understand; his plans made good sense. His daughters were intelligent, cared about his well-being, and trusted his judgment. Miles already knew, as did Daphne. As for the world at large, he had long realized he didn’t care about what strangers thought.

  Daphne was the first to arrive, with Hugo. When she joined him by the fireside, she said, “I have told Hugo about the missing jewels, Papa, and he will accompany me to London when I visit Mama.”

  Hugo said, “I couldn’t possibly allow her to go to Felicity’s house alone, Charles, and I’m sure you agree. Lawrence Pierce could easily be there.”

  “You’re correct, Hugo, you should be present. From what I hear from my friends, Pierce is quite a bounder. And incidentally, I do believe Miles should accompany you. After all, he is my heir…” Charles stopped as the door burst open.

  “Here I am, Papa!” Dulcie cried in her usual flamboyant way, floating toward her father in a cloud of pale blue silk.

  Charles embraced her. “Like Daphne, you look beautiful, Dulcie.” A smile tugged at his mouth. “You’re both wearing blue. And taking a huge chance. Aunt Gwendolyn will tease you unmercifully about wearing frocks to match your eyes.”

  “She will,” Dulcie agreed. “But we don’t care, do we, Daphers? We love blue, it suits us, and anyway she wears blue as well. Because she has the same blue eyes. It’s a family distinction.”

  Daphne laughed, and went and sat on the sofa, where Hugo joined her.

  A moment later, the door burst open again and Diedre, DeLacy, and Miles came in together in a mad rush. “I hope we’re not late, Papa.” Diedre hurried forward, with DeLacy right behind her; Miles closed the door and joined his sisters.

  Charles greeted them, and was relieved to see that Diedre had chosen pink and DeLacy was in a pale gray frock. No doubt they remembered how their great-aunt frequently made fun of them. Even though she was now in her mid-eighties, she was full of life, and mischief.

  Charles let his eyes rest on his children for a moment, admiringly so, and then he gave them a warm smile.

  “It’s really wonderful to have you here together … I should have done this before, had a family reunion. But, as you know, we’ve had our hands full, keeping Cavendon on an even keel. And it is safe, by the way, thanks to good management, wise counsel from Hugo, and innovations created by Miles. And also a great deal of prudence on Daphne’s part in the running of the house. Anyway, I know we’re going to have a truly happy few days together…”

  Pausing, Charles moved away from the fireplace, sat down in a chair. Leaning back, making himself comfortable, he went on, “I have several things to tell you. But first, let me explain that I am well, truly recovered from the heart attack I had last year. Dr. Laird has given me a great bill of health. He says I’m fit, and that I can lead a normal life. Which is tremendous news.”

  “It is indeed, Papa!” Dulcie began to clap her hands, glanced around, and her siblings joined in, clapping with her, smiling and laughing together. They loved their father, and all of them remembered how he had taken care of them after Felicity had run off to be with her lover in London. Twelve years ago now. He had been the true constant in their lives.

  Charles still had a smile on his face when he continued speaking. “On Sunday afternoon, once lunch is over, I will be leaving Cavendon. I’ve decided that now is the right time to take a holiday. Just for a few weeks, but it will be a welcome respite—”

  “What a wonderful idea!” DeLacy cut in. “It will do you good, Papa—”

  “Where are you going?” Dulcie asked, interrupting her sister. “Somewhere lovely, I hope.”

  “I’m going to Switzerland,” Charles sa
id, his keen eyes roaming over them once more. “To Zurich, to be exact. Hugo has very kindly offered me his villa, and for as long as I want.”

  “What a treat.” Diedre smiled at her father lovingly, and then a thought suddenly occurred to her. She went on swiftly, “You’ll be by yourself, and you might feel lonely, Papa. Would you like one of us to accompany you?”

  Charles shook his head. “Thank you, Diedre, for such a kind thought. I would like all of you to know that I won’t be alone. You see, I’m getting married. The holiday is actually my honeymoon.”

  Three pairs of blue eyes, wide with shock, were staring at him. Diedre, DeLacy, and Dulcie were speechless, unable to say anything for a few seconds, taken by surprise as they were.

  Daphne stood up, and said, “I think congratulations are in order, don’t you?” She eyed her sisters, her own face wreathed in smiles of happiness for her father. “Congratulations,” they all said in unison.

  “You haven’t told us who the bride is, Papa.” Diedre stared at her father, a quizzical look on her face. “Do we know her?”

  “Of course you do,” Miles said, walking over to join Daphne in front of the fire. “Very well, in fact.”

  Charles also stood. “It’s Charlotte. I’m going to marry Charlotte Swann. Whom I love and cherish and wish to spend the rest of my life with.”

  There was a sudden excited rush toward him.

  As usual, Dulcie was the first to spring forward and into his arms, followed by DeLacy and Diedre. Within seconds, three of his daughters were hugging him so hard he was almost knocked over.

  “Goodness me!” Charles cried. “That’s a truly genuine endorsement, if ever I’ve seen one.”

  Diedre exclaimed, “She’s been like a mother to us, Papa, and she’s certainly held this family together for years. I’m very, very happy for you.”

  “So am I,” DeLacy said, meaning this as much as Diedre did.