Cavendon Hall (27 page)

Charlotte jumped up in surprise, when there was a quick knock on the door, and Alice came straight in. She was earlier than Charlotte had expected her, and in her haste she forgot to return the photograph to the drawer. She never had it on display. It was only on the desk when she was alone.

“You look tired, Alice,” Charlotte said, walking over to the sideboard. “Would you like a scotch?”

“Thank you,” Alice said, and sat down in one of the two armchairs. As Charlotte poured the drink, Alice looked across at the desk, and immediately saw the photograph of David Ingham, the fifth earl. She was surprised it was not in the drawer.

Miraculously, there had never been any gossip about the two of them, yet Alice had known everything about their relationship. All that messing around between the Inghams and the Swanns had gone on for 160 years.

They were intertwined and involved in every possible way. So why would it be different in this day and age? It would always happen. They couldn’t help themselves, couldn’t resist each other. In fact, they didn’t even try. The Ingham men were fatal to the Swann women, and vice versa.

That was why she must get Ceci away from here, when she was old enough. Miles Ingham and Cecily Swann were too bound up in each other, far too close, joined at the hip. At the moment they were too young to become intimate, but they would eventually if they weren’t separated. Walter agreed with her, and so did Charlotte. It had to be done.

Handing Alice the tumbler of scotch, Charlotte sat down next to her. “Cheers,” she said.

“Cheers,” Alice murmured, as they clinked glasses. “I think I might need a second one of these.” She shook her head and groaned. “I’ve been sewing all day. Those clothes Ceci designs for Daphne are beautiful, but they take a lot of work.”

“I realize that. They’re engineered, in my opinion. I can’t believe her talent, Alice, she’s only twelve and yet she has an amazing ability as a designer. She’s like … a child prodigy.”

“That’s right,” Alice answered, and then glanced across at the silver-framed photograph again, but made no reference to it. She went on, “I’m glad you telephoned Dottie. In a couple of years Ceci will be old enough to go to London.”

“Yes,” Charlotte agreed, and followed her gaze, caught sight of the photograph and realized her mistake. “I know what you’re thinking. Ceci will leave here, I promise.”

“Thank you. Now, I’ll have another scotch, if you don’t mind.” Alice went over to pour it for herself.

Once Alice was settled in the chair again, Charlotte announced, “I had a meeting with the earl this morning, and he gave me some interesting news. That’s why I wanted to see you this evening.”

Alice looked at her alertly. “Go on then! Tell me! Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“Before Hugo left for Zurich, he went to see Charles. He told him he had fallen in love with Daphne, that he wanted permission to court her. If she was not already spoken for. He confessed to Charles that it was love at first sight.”

“So Ceci was right.” Alice beamed at Charlotte. “And did the earl give his permission?”

“No. He said it was up to Daphne. Her decision.”

“I hope to God she says yes. It’s a gift from heaven, isn’t it? Hugo coming here when he did, I mean.”

“It is. And I believe Daphne is sensible enough to go along with it. She did tell me she thinks Hugo is nice, that she likes him.”

“But that’s not love, is it? It’s just not the same thing. You’ve got to want that particular man so much, you can’t see straight. You
must
have him, be with him all the time. You must feel you can’t live without him. That’s being in love.” Alice stared at Charlotte, waiting for a response.

But Charlotte was silent, merely stared back at Alice, her expression enigmatic.

Finally Alice said, “Certainly you know what I’m talking about. You wanted David so much you were crazed. And you devoted most of your life to him in the end. And from the age of seventeen.”

“True. I can’t deny it.” There was a pause, a hesitation, then she added, “But only the Swanns knew.”

“That’s right. Because we protected you always. Not only you, but the earl as well. That’s the reason there was never any gossip about you.” Alice took a small swig of the scotch, added, “Listen to me, Charlotte, we’ve got to try and influence Daphne. Don’t you think that’s right? Drop hints, say nice things about Hugo.”

“Daphne’s smart, rather clever in her own way, and much brighter than most people realize. She’ll see through that at once. So we must be subtle, Alice.”

“Oh, I know that. There’s another thing, Charlotte. Daphne might just fall in love with Hugo, without any prompting from us. After all, he’s an extremely attractive man, and there’s something about him that’s appealing, engaging. Let’s not forget he’s an Ingham. And you know better than anybody what the Ingham men are like, the effect they have on women. There’s just something about them.”

Charlotte smiled. “It’s called fatal charm, Alice.”

*   *   *

Not far from Charlotte’s house in Little Skell village, down near the lake in the park at Cavendon, Peggy Swift and Gordon Lane were taking a stroll.

It was a beautiful July night, with a bright full moon floating high in the sky. It silvered the surface of the lake, spread a sheen across it.

The fact that they were in the park troubled Peggy; they were not supposed to be there. This was the private domain of the Ingham family, not like the bluebell woods and the meadows where anyone could roam.

“We’re trespassing, Gordon,” she whispered at one moment. “Hurry up and finish your cig, and then we can go back to the house.”

“What about a kiss and a canoodle, then? Am I not getting that tonight, Peg?”

“Yes, you are, but we must be quick, and I’m not going to do
it,
you know. Not
that.
Until we’re married.”

“I know! I know! I’ll be respectful, Miss Swift. Right up until the day you’re Mrs. Lane.” He dropped his tab end and ground it into the gravel path with his foot. “Come on, Peg, let’s go into that there boathouse for a couple of minutes.”

“We’d be trespassing more than ever,” Peggy protested, always afraid of authority.

“Aw, come on, love, just for a bit,” Gordon pleaded.

Reluctantly, and against her better judgment, Peggy allowed Gordon to lead her over to the boathouse. When he turned the knob, the door opened, and they went inside. There was no light switch, but the room was not too dark, because of the moonlight streaming in. Gordon spotted a candle stub in a saucer on the window ledge, pulled out a box of Swan Vestas, and struck a match. The candle flickered as he brought the flame to it.

“Not too bad, Peg. At least we can see a little bit. Oh, look, over there, a pile of ropes. A perfect spot to sit.”

“A bit grim,” Peggy spluttered, slightly indignant, but nonetheless, she sat down on the ropes with him.

Immediately, and as usual, Gordon was kissing her, pulling her closer, smoothing his hand over her breasts, then opening her blouse, touching her skin. He was exciting her, arousing her, as he always did, and she was floundering.

He whispered against her neck, “I promise you, I won’t force you. But can I just touch you, Peg? Please.”

“I want you to, Gordon, but I think we should leave. We’re servants, we’re not supposed to be in the park, never mind in the boathouse. If we’re not careful, we’ll get the sack.”

“It’s late. Everybody’s gone to bed, believe me they have. Come on, just for a few minutes.” As he spoke he gently moved her back against the pile of ropes, and lifted her skirt, began to caress the top of her leg, her thigh, and beyond.

Gordon kissed her face, found her mouth. He knew he couldn’t get enough of her. But he had promised not to force her into anything against her will, and he kept his word. She was too important to him; he didn’t want to lose her.

Eventually they both sat up, and Peggy whispered, “Gordon Lane, aren’t you the naughty boy! A proper little devil.”

He grinned at her. “The devil you love, though.”

“That’s the truth, my lad.” Peggy straightened her skirt, fastened her blouse, and patted her hair. At that moment the candle sputtered and died on them.

“The room’s gone dark,” Peggy said in a low voice. “I don’t like the dark, Gordon.”

“I know that, love. But I can’t help it. The candle went out, and the moon’s gone behind a cloud. Wait a minute, I’ll strike another match, and then we can find our way out of here.”

“That’s a relief,” Peggy said, looking over at the window. “It’s really black outside without the light of the moon.”

Gordon struck the match, held it up. Peggy screamed. There was a man’s face at the window.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Gordon asked.

“There’s a man outside, staring through the window at us.”

Gordon swung around to face the window, only to discover there was no one there. “I think you must be seeing things,” he said, frowning at her.

Peggy scrambled to her feet, and so did Gordon. She said, “Somebody’s seen us in here. I saw his face.
I did.
”

“Oh my God. Then we’re in trouble.” Grabbing hold of her hand, he led her toward the door. “We’d better go and face the music.”

When they went outside, somewhat cautiously, they discovered they were entirely alone.

“Are you sure—” Gordon began, and stopped. Just ahead of them he saw a tall man running off, making for the far side of the lake.

“Course I’m sure,” Peggy exclaimed indignantly. “I know what I saw and I’m not daft in the head. Look! He’s running down there.”

“I know. I just saw him,” Gordon said in a low voice.

“It was a tramp,” Peggy announced.

Gordon peered at her. “Why do you say that? You only caught sight of him for a second.”

“His face was dirty, and he had something strange wrapped around his head. It was like some old rags.”

Gordon made a face. “I don’t like the idea of somebody odd roaming around this park, it’s too close to the house. And the family. We’d best get back there, Peg, before bloody old Hanson goes on his nightly prowl.”

As they ran together through the park, holding hands, Peggy couldn’t help but think about the last time they had been to the bluebell woods, where there had been a Peeping Tom. Now they had just seen another one at the boathouse window. Someone was watching them, and it frightened her.

Thirty-five

T
he water gardens at Cavendon had been created in the eighteenth century and were truly beautiful. They were located on lower ground at the back of the West Wing of the house, and now, as she walked down the hill toward them, Daphne thought how tranquil this part of the parkland was.

Halfway down the small hill, she came to the platform which had been built by an earlier countess long ago. A large chunk of the hill had been dug out like a cave, granite slabstones laid, and a resting spot created. There was a stone bench on the flagstones, and Daphne sat down for a moment, staring at the lovely scene below.

Manicured lawns stretched across the valley floor. In the center, straight ahead, there was a large ornamental pond, and from this pond four canals branched out like spokes in a wheel. The wheel effect was emphasized by a circular canal that surrounded the long canals and the central pond. And farther down were flowering bushes and another ornamental pond with a fountain, shooting water into the sky this afternoon.

Even as a child she had loved to come here, and had likened the main water garden to a giant wheel set in the middle of the green lawns. Water lilies floated on the ornamental pond, and there were statues placed on various parts of the lawns; at one end stood the Temple of the Moon. The lawn behind the Temple of the Moon was edged with beech trees, and the effect was spectacular. Eternal Serenity was the name which had been given to the water gardens when they were finished a century ago, and she thought it was indeed serene.

Earlier this morning, Daphne had written a short note to Hugo, asking him to meet her here at three o’clock, adding that he should keep the meeting a secret.

She had sealed the note in an envelope, and left it on the chest of drawers in the blue bedroom. He had been due to arrive at two o’clock today, and he had been on time. Through the window she had seen her father and Dulcie greeting him on the front steps of Cavendon.

Rising, Daphne went on down the slope to the gravel path, and then followed the narrow flagstones that led directly to the Temple of the Moon.

There were two white-painted, carved wooden chairs inside, and she sat down on one, then glanced at the fob watch pinned to her pale green chiffon blouse. It was fifteen minutes to three, so she settled back, her thoughts concentrated on Hugo, and what she would say to him.

She had not told anyone about this meeting, because she had decided she must take her destiny into her own hands. She would do it alone, make her own life.

Unexpectedly, he suddenly appeared at the top of the hill; obviously, he was anxious to see her, because he was early. As he came down the slope her heart clenched, and she wondered if she had the nerve to go through with this. Yes, she told herself, I must do it. There is no other choice.

She noticed he was glancing around as he approached the bottom of the hill, and she stood up, went to the front of the temple, and waved to him.

He saw her at once, and waved back, a smile flashing on his face. He almost ran down the flagstone path to the temple, and came up the three steps and through the Doric columns.

Daphne thought he was going to embrace her, but somehow he held himself back, and took her hand, held it tightly in his, and kissed her cheek somewhat tentatively.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, and still holding his hand, she led him to the two chairs set against the back wall of the little building, where she sat on one of them.

“I wondered where you were for a moment,” Hugo said, also sitting down. “But now I realize these chairs are not visible from a distance.”

She merely nodded.

Getting straight to the point, he said, “Your father told me that you would consider the idea of a courtship, and the prospect of marriage to me. That you would make up your mind before I left again. Thank you for that.”