The Cavendon Women

  “I’m so happy for you and for Charlotte, Papa. I don’t know what I would have done without her when I was little,” Dulcie announced. “She gave me so much motherly love.”

  “I know, darling,” Charles murmured. “She’s always been loyal, and she gave love to each and every one of us.”

  After a few minutes, when everything had calmed down, it was Diedre who looked across at Daphne and then at Miles. She said softly, “You both already knew, didn’t you?”

  They nodded, and Miles explained. “I had to know, because I’m the heir, and I have to understand all of my father’s actions. Daphne had to be told, because it was she who had to plan the wedding.”

  “I understand,” Diedre said in an even voice, not at all jealous or put out that two of her younger siblings had known before she had. She was fully aware she had been sadly absent from Cavendon, and for quite some time, and so she didn’t really know what had been going on over the years.

  “When are you getting married, Papa?” Dulcie asked as she hovered next to him near the fire.

  “On Sunday morning,” he answered. “Tomorrow evening will be … our engagement party…” He paused, then finished, “On Sunday morning, Charlotte and I will be married in the church here on the estate. There will be a buffet luncheon for the Inghams and the Swanns, and then we shall depart for London, en route to Zurich.”

  After chatting about the marriage ceremony, and the buffet lunch, it was DeLacy who suddenly asked worriedly, “Papa, does Great-Aunt Gwendolyn know? And what about Aunt Lavinia and Aunt Vanessa? Have you confided in them?”

  Charles shook his head. “They don’t know, not yet. I’m going to tell them in a short while, when we have afternoon tea. You see, I felt it was only correct to explain everything to my children first. But in all honesty, I don’t need anyone’s approval, as you well know. I am a grown man, fifty-seven years old. I can do as I wish. I told you first, because you have a right to know. And I am going to tell them as a matter of courtesy.”

  Diedre said quietly, “Great-Aunt Gwendolyn might say you’re stepping out of your class, and—”

  “I don’t care what she thinks, or anyone else!” Charles interrupted somewhat peremptorily. “It’s my life, and I shall live it as I see fit. I thrive when I’m with Charlotte. I shrivel up when I’m without her. I want to be happy in these last years of my life.”

  “The world has changed, Diedre,” Miles interjected. “Sadly, so many aristocratic families are going down, because of the heavy taxes imposed on us by the government. And for many other reasons. I don’t believe anyone we know is going to pay much attention to what you do, Papa, with all due respect. They’re all bound up in their own ghastly problems, and trying to survive the best way they can.”

  “Well said,” Hugo agreed. “No one can live their lives by what the world thinks. Charles must do as he wishes.”

  “Can I be a bridesmaid?” Dulcie asked, throwing her father an engaging look.

  He smiled then looked across at Daphne, a brow lifting.

  Daphne addressed her sisters when she said, “Yes, Dulcie, you can, and you, too, DeLacy, and you, Diedre. I shall be matron of honor, since I’m a married woman.”

  “We don’t have bridesmaids’ frocks,” Dulcie murmured, making a moue.

  “I thought the three of you could wear something really summery and pretty,” Daphne answered. “As for me, I shall be wearing blue.”

  Her sisters began to laugh, and Diedre said, “And so shall we. None of us are short of blue dresses, so at least we’ll match each other. Oh, how wonderful … a wedding at Cavendon.”

  Eleven

  As Cecily turned the bend on the dirt road she saw Genevra sitting in her usual spot on the drystone wall. She waved.

  The Romany girl waved back, jumped off the wall, and stood waiting for her.

  Cecily noticed at once that Genevra was wearing one of her own old frocks, and she couldn’t help thinking how well it suited her. She had not seen the gypsy in a long time, and now she realized how she had blossomed, was actually quite beautiful in an exotic way.

  “Yer mam give it ter me,” Genevra explained, touching the white collar of the cotton dress. Her head on one side, she studied Cecily for a moment, before adding, “It’s me favorite.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” Cecily hesitated for a moment before asking, “How old are you now?”

  The girl grinned. “Twenty-seven. Same as Master Miles.” Genevra glanced up at the great house towering above them on top of the hill. “Big ’appenings going on up yonder, ain’t that so, Cecily?”

  “All the girls are here to visit Lord Mowbray.”

  “Did yer keep that bit of bone I carved for yer?”

  Cecily nodded. “I did. But why are you asking me about it now?”

  “It’s lucky. A charm.” She waved a finger at Cecily. “Don’t lose.”

  “Of course I won’t lose it, Genevra. I treasure it,” Cecily responded, meaning every word. Somewhat superstitious by nature, she believed that the Romany girl did have the gift of sight, as she had forever claimed over the years. Some people on the estate laughed at Genevra behind her back, and belittled her, but Cecily understood how clever she actually was, and was fond of her.

  “Did Miss Charlotte keep hers?” the gypsy asked.

  “I’m sure she put it away carefully.”

  Stepping closer to Cecily, Genevra opened her clenched hand, showed her a newly carved piece of bone. “Tek it, Miss Cecily. It’s a charm. I carved it for Master Miles. Give it ter Miles. Go on, tek it.”

  Cecily reached for the bone, stared down at it. There were six small crosses and two hearts carved on it, with tiny strips of scarlet and blue ribbon tied on one end.

  “It’s like mine.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “I meant the ribbons.”

  “True. Tell Miles it’s lucky. Keep Miles safe, liddle Ceci. Keep him near yer.”

  “I will,” Cecily answered, knowing full well that she would indeed do that. She had no option. After all, when she was just a young girl, she had taken the Swann oath: to protect the Inghams.

  * * *

  As she walked on up the hill, Cecily paused at one moment and looked across toward the fields. In the distance, she could make out the figure of Genevra, and, on the far horizon, the Romany wagons. There were three now; the family had grown.

  It was Charlotte Swann who had told her why the sixth earl allowed them to live on his land. Many years earlier, during the period when the fifth earl was the head of the Ingham family, Genevra’s great-grandfather, Gervaise, had done him many services. One was discovering and catching the poachers who raided Ingham lands. The reward Gervaise and his brood were given was the right to inhabit the area near the bluebell woods for all time. The sixth earl was just following that rule.

  Romany wagons were a common sight in the lanes and woods of the English countryside, and had been for years. Cecily had always thought of them as picturesque. Some of the gypsies moved around, traveling from village to village, whilst others chose a particular area, and stayed if they were allowed. They kept to themselves, did not cause trouble.

  Cecily couldn’t help thinking about Genevra’s cautionary words to keep Miles safe. She wished now she had asked her what she had seen in the future, although questioning the Romany would not have made her confide. Genevra had always been wary of issuing predictions. Who would want to harm Miles? Clarissa, his estranged wife? Her powerful father, Lord Meldrew? Someone unknown? Cecily could not pinpoint anyone as she hurried on, heading for the long terrace at Cavendon, where Miles was waiting for her. She pushed worrying thoughts to the back of her mind.

  * * *

  Miles stood at the top of the steps, leaning against the balustrade, and she thought at once that he did not look good. He was wearing a navy blue linen suit that was far too big, swam around him. Poor choice, Cecily thought as he kissed her quickly on the cheek, and then walked her along the terrace. She w
as going to have to take him in hand, do something about these awful clothes. Linen was not her favorite fabric. It creased in seconds.

  “What happened?” she asked as they sat down at the wrought-iron table in the center of the terrace.

  “It went really well. Diedre, Dulcie, and DeLacy were thrilled about Papa and Charlotte, so no problems there.”

  “I didn’t think there would be. After all, my aunt practically brought them up.” Cecily sat back in the chair, put her hand in her pocket, and brought out the piece of bone, then quickly told Miles about her encounter with Genevra.

  After examining the bone, turning it around, he asked, “What do the little engravings mean?”

  “I don’t know. She never explains. I have a bone, so does Charlotte, and she made one for Daphne years ago. When Hugo was going off to fight in the Great War, Daphne begged her to explain the carvings. Sympathetic to Daphne’s worries about Hugo, Genevra finally gave in. She said Daphne would have five children. And she did.”

  “The bits of ribbon I understand completely. They represent the House of Ingham. Scarlet and azure are our colors.”

  Cecily simply nodded.

  Miles said, “And you believe Genevra’s claim that she can see into the future, don’t you?”

  “I always have. I know she’s strange, and some people say she’s crazy, but I think she’s just different. And gifted in a certain way.” Cecily shrugged. “You’re to keep the bone safe. It’s a lucky charm, according to our gypsy girl.”

  Miles put Genevra’s gift into his jacket pocket, and murmured, “When you run into her again, thank her for me. If I see her I will do that myself.”

  “She means well, Miles. And I mean well, when I tell you that you must not wear this suit ever again. It wrinkles quickly. It’s too big for you. And navy blue is not your color.”

  Miles started to laugh. “So I do matter to you, Miss Swann?” He raised a brow.

  Cecily felt the warmth on her neck, and she realized she was blushing. Swiftly, she said, “Clothes are my life, and I tell everyone if a garment doesn’t work for them.”

  “Oh, so I’m one of many, eh?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. I do care how you look.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re my friend.”

  “Thank you, Ceci, for being my friend. And you know I feel the same way about you.”

  “I do. And I think we can manage to make this weekend work, if we’re cordial with each other, as we agreed to be earlier today.”

  He smiled at her, and stood up. “I think we’d better go inside; it’s teatime, and Papa is expecting you to join us.”

  Twelve

  “You’re getting married!” Lavinia exclaimed, her incredulity apparent as she stared at her brother.

  “I am, yes,” Charles answered, sitting back in his chair.

  “To whom?” Lavinia asked, “And when?”

  “I’m marrying Charlotte, of course, and then—”

  “Thank heavens for that!” Lady Gwendolyn instantly cut in, detecting a critical nuance in Lavinia’s voice, wishing to avert any unpleasantness. “And it’s about time, too. I, for one, am thrilled to welcome Charlotte to this family.”

  “So am I, Charles,” his younger sister, Vanessa, announced, smiling at him. Looking pointedly at her aunt, she then added, “But actually, Charlotte’s been a part of this family since we were all children, growing up together.”

  “There might well be gossip, you know,” Lavinia interjected, focusing on her brother. “You’re marrying out of your class, for one thing, and you’re fifty-seven, Charles. Why get married at all? Why not just continue in the same situation? I think your actions might seem inappropriate to many people, especially your friends. You know how you loathe scandal touching the family.”

  The yellow drawing room went unusually quiet.

  There wasn’t a sound. Not one person said a word. No one moved, not even slightly. The stillness was overwhelming.

  Miles glanced across at his father, and saw at once how stunned Charles looked. He was about to get up and talk about the planned events, when Dulcie beat him to it.

  His sister sprang to her feet, flew across the room, and stood behind her father’s chair, one hand on his shoulder.

  She said in a cutting voice, “With all due respect, Aunt Lavinia, I don’t believe Papa was seeking your approval. What he chooses to do is none of your business … nobody’s business, in fact. He was actually being courteous. He wished to tell us he was getting married to Charlotte, and discuss the weekend events—”

  “And I’m in charge of those!” Miles exclaimed, also jumping up, taking over from Dulcie, seizing his chance to change the direction of the conversation. He said in a strong, determined voice, “Cecily has been helping me plan things. So let me proceed. Tonight it is the usual quiet family dinner, just Inghams present. But tomorrow evening will be a different thing altogether, an engagement party, a gala, in a sense, as engagement dinners usually are. Harry, Cecily, Mrs. Alice, and Walter will be joining Papa and Charlotte, and also—”

  Cutting across Miles in the rudest manner, Lavinia addressed her brother. “I assume you haven’t invited any of your friends, Charles. And perhaps that’s for the best.”

  “Actually, a number of them wanted to come, but Charlotte and I have kept it to a minimum. We wanted a small family wedding, with just a few close friends. But we will be giving a party when we return from our honeymoon,” he finished, his blue eyes icy. Turning away from his sister, Charles said in a softer tone to Miles, “Please continue, Miles. Sorry you were interrupted.”

  “Thank you, Papa. On Sunday morning, Charlotte and Papa will be married in the church on the estate. After the service, Cecily and I will host a luncheon. This will be in a buffet style, like we usually favored for the cotillions in the past. Of course, all of the Swanns are invited, as well as the Inghams.”

  Dulcie said, “The four Dees are going to be bridesmaids. Well, three of us. Naturally, Daphne will be the matron of honor.” She smiled at her great-aunt, and said, “And guess what? We are all going to be wearing blue frocks.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Lady Gwendolyn answered, laughing with Dulcie. “I shall wear blue myself, and bow to family tradition … blue dresses to match our blue eyes.”

  Daphne, relieved that Miles and Dulcie had stopped Lavinia’s idiotic chatter, stood and walked across the room. She said to Charles, “I think I should tell Hanson we are now ready for tea, Papa.”

  “What a good idea,” Charles replied. He was proud of his children for taking over, and so expertly squashing Lavinia, who had been unusually rude. She had overstepped the mark, and he would put her in her place later.

  Reaching the door, Daphne jerked it open, much to the surprise of Hanson, who was standing guard outside. “Goodness me, Lady Daphne, you really made me jump.”

  “I’m so sorry, Hanson. And you can stand down now. His lordship has broken the news to his sisters and Lady Gwendolyn.”

  “How did they take it, Lady Daphne?”

  “I must admit, Aunt Lavinia seemed utterly taken aback, but not Aunt Vanessa, who was lovely about it. As for Lady Gwendolyn, she seemed positively elated.”

  “Oh yes, she would be, m’lady. She admires Charlotte. Mind you, she’s always been on the side of the Swanns, very partial to them.”

  Daphne glanced at the butler, frowning. “That’s a strange word to use, Hanson … partial.”

  “What I meant, m’lady, is that she likes them, but then we all do. Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I’ll have tea brought up immediately.”

  “Thank you, Hanson,” Daphne answered, and watched him rush downstairs to marshall his troops. She herself went back to the yellow drawing room, and purposely avoided looking at Lavinia, who had been so snobbish and oddly belligerent.

  Daphne was glad to hear the cheerful buzz of conversation as the family chatted with each other. She took her seat on the sofa next to Hugo. He was he
r rock, and everyone’s rock these days. He was wonderful at keeping everyone’s spirits up, and he did a lot to help her father hold Cavendon steady. Her father had recovered from his heart attack, but there were times when she thought he wasn’t quite as strong as he looked.

  Taking hold of her hand, squeezing it, Hugo said sotto voce, “That was a rather ugly performance from Lavinia. I was appalled at her attitude, and she spoke so rudely to Charles, who has always been so good to her. All of her life, actually. I’m happy Charlotte wasn’t present.”

  “So am I, darling. But Cecily’s here, and although her face has remained inscrutable, I’m sure she was a bit hurt. And nobody can blame her for that. Don’t forget, my father put her and Miles in place because he didn’t want to cope with any problems or trouble. He believes Miles and Cecily can handle anything, keep everything on an even keel.”

  “I’m well aware of that, and together they can be extremely tough. Unfortunately your father did get a bit of a shock a few minutes ago. Lavinia was mean-spirited, and really out of step with the times.”

  “She was ghastly. Still, she’s not been very nice to anyone since Uncle Jack died. Grieving for him, I suppose.”

  “I doubt that. I don’t think there was much love lost there. Jack adored her, and all he got in return was unhappiness. Buckets of it, according to Miles.”

  “Miles?”

  “Yes, Miles. They were rather close. He was Jack’s favorite; surely you can’t have forgotten that, Daphne. He treated Miles like the son he never had. That’s why Jack set up a trust for him in his will. A most generous gift.”

  “How stupid I am, Hugo. Of course, I remember now. Papa told me Lavinia wasn’t too happy about that trust, but it was rock solid legally. Lavinia couldn’t do a thing.”

  Daphne turned, glanced at the door as it opened. There was a sudden flurry of activity as Hanson swept into the yellow drawing room, leading his team.

  Right behind him was Gordon Lane, now the senior footman, accompanied by Ian Melrose, the second footman, and Jessie Phelps, the head housemaid. The three of them were pushing tea trolleys laden with finger sandwiches, scones, strawberry jam and clotted cream, and all of the usual fancy buns and cakes.