Cavendon Hall (28 page)

“Papa said it was love at first sight when you met me a few weeks ago, that you knew there and then that you wished to marry me. It wasn’t love at first sight for me, Hugo, I must confess. I like you enormously, I feel comfortable with you, and at ease, we get on well, we’re compatible.” She suddenly laughed. “And you are a handsome man, and very engaging. So…” She let her voice trail off, and then added softly, “Although you are staying here for two weeks, I will give you an answer in one week. Because I’ll be sure by then.”

He was pleased, and it showed on his face. He said swiftly, “An answer to what, Daphne? A courtship or—”

“No, no,” she cut in swiftly. “I will tell you whether or not I will marry you.”

This answer made him even happier, and he relaxed in the chair, feeling as if a great load had been lifted from his shoulders. A loving smile settled on his face. “Thank you.”

Before he could start a conversation, Daphne said, “There are several things I must discuss with you, Hugo.
Now.
Immediately. Before we talk about anything else.”

Looking at her intently, he frowned, exclaimed, “You sound very serious.”

“These are serious matters.”

“I understand. I am listening, please tell me.”

“I believe there is an impediment to our marrying,” she announced.

Looking at her askance, extremely baffled, he exclaimed, “But how could that be? I am a widower with no entanglements of any kind, and you are a single woman, totally free.”

She ignored these comments, and swiftly said, “I would like to tell you a story. If that’s all right?”

“Yes, of course it is.”

“A few months ago, on the third of May to be exact, I was attacked in the bluebell woods, and—”

“Oh my God!” he interjected, sounding aghast. “You must have been hurt. My poor girl. Are you feeling all right now?”

Daphne held up her hand. “Please, Hugo, I would like to tell you the rest of the story. Before I lose my nerve. We can talk about it, once I’ve finished. Please, do listen. And I’d prefer it if you don’t interrupt me.”

“I understand,” he answered quietly, wanting to know more. “I shall absolutely keep quiet. You have the floor.”

“That afternoon something was thrown at me. It struck me between my shoulder blades. I fell forward, hitting my face and head on a log. Before I could get up, someone pounced on me.”

Slowly, carefully, she told Hugo about being raped, threatened, told that her mother and Dulcie would be killed if she talked, and then being left alone in the woods. She went on to explain how Genevra, the Romany girl, had found her much later and had helped her through the woods back to Cavendon Hall.

Pausing for breath, Daphne sat back in the chair, and looked deeply into his face. She saw that he was shocked and horrified, and she believed he was about to question her. But he didn’t.

Instead, Hugo reached out, took hold of her hands, held them in his. “My darling, my poor darling, what a horrendous thing to happen to you. Thank God you are alive. Men like that frequently have murderous intent. I’m so sorry this happened to
you,
of all women. Why, you’re just an innocent girl.”

He drew away, gazed into her eyes. “I will look after you, keep you safe. And this is certainly not an impediment to our marriage. You are innocent, you are the victim.”

He rose, pulled her to her feet, and without saying another word he brought her into his arms and held her close to him, murmuring soothing words. He couldn’t bear to think what she had gone through, and his heart went out to her. At this moment he loved her more than ever. He was impressed by her immense courage, her integrity in wanting him to know about the horrific attack she had suffered. He cringed inside when he thought of this pure and inexperienced seventeen-year-old girl being brutally raped. It was unconscionable.

Moving away from him, looking into his worried face, Daphne said softly, “Thank you, Hugo, thank you for saying that.”

“Who did this to you, Daphne?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. “And what about your father? What did Charles say? Didn’t he go after him? Have him apprehended by the police?”

“I didn’t see the man’s face at first, because he had a scarf wrapped around it. But after he’d, well … when he had finished with me, I reached up and pulled it off. I was stunned.” She took a deep breath, and finished in a low voice. “I was staring into the face of my childhood friend, Julian Torbett.”

“My God, how appalling of him! The wicked, evil man. He must be from the Torbett family of Havers Lodge?”

“Yes, he is.”

“What happened to him? What did your father
do
?” he asked in a harsh voice.

Daphne sat down again, and so did Hugo. Unable to resist, he took hold of her hand once more, as if never to let it go.

“Remember, he’d threatened me, frightened me, because of Dulcie and Mama. I didn’t dare say a word to Papa. And then Julian actually had the nerve to come around with his fiancée, Madge Courtney, to go riding a week later. I had no choice but to agree, under the circumstances. My father and DeLacy rode with us, and I was safe, of course. Something strange happened, Hugo; rifle shots went off in the fields, his horse was spooked, and bolted. Julian was thrown. He was unconscious when he was taken to Harrogate Hospital and he never regained consciousness. He died that night.”

Hugo drew closer, reached up, and gently turned her face to his. He looked deeply into those marvelous blue eyes, and said in a sympathetic voice, “You didn’t tell Charles, did you? You kept the rape from your parents. That’s true, isn’t it?”

“What was the point of telling them? Especially when Julian Torbett had been killed in a freak riding accident.”

Hugo simply nodded, leaned back in the chair, and kept her hand in his. He was afraid to let go of her, and his love for her surged through him.

There was silence for a few moments; they were both lost in their own thoughts. Finally, it was Daphne who spoke.

She said, “Mrs. Alice knew. You see, she saw me come into the bedroom corridor, and grabbed me at once. She hurried me into my bedroom, before DeLacy and Ceci could question me. They were there and I was somewhat bedraggled. My jacket was torn and dirty. Mrs. Alice helped me to get through the ordeal.”

“She would do that. She was my childhood friend, you know, and thoughtful, caring. I’m glad she knew, and that she helped you. That makes me feel a bit better, Daphne.”

“She told me something important. Mrs. Alice said I should trust no one in this house, meaning Cavendon. Only my parents and the Swanns. Tell no one, trust no one, she said. And I haven’t told anyone, and I don’t trust anyone, except Mama and Papa. And the Swanns, and you, Hugo. I trust you with my life.”

He was touched by her words, and her faith in him. This gave him hope for a future with her. Before he could say anything, Daphne leaned into him, and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for being you, and what you are.”

“Daphne, I’m at a loss for words. I think you are enormously brave, and grown-up beyond your years. You amaze me.”

“There is something else I must tell you, Hugo, and then I’m finished with my sad tales.”

“My darling Daphne, I’ll listen to everything you have to say, sad or otherwise, and be happy to do so for the rest of my life.”

“There
is
an impediment to a marriage between us,” she insisted.

Puzzlement flickered in his blue eyes, and he gave her a curious look. “Still talking about impediments, are we?”

“Yes.” Straightening in the chair, she gave him a pointed look. “I’m pregnant, Hugo. I was raped and made pregnant.”

That he was stunned by this revelation was apparent; he gaped at her stupefied, speechless for a moment and reeling from her words. It was a million-to-one chance she was raped on her father’s land, and a million-to-one chance that the bastard had made her pregnant. He wished Torbett was alive. He would kill him.

After a moment, Hugo asked, “How on earth have you been able to stand all this? To bear it, Daphne? You must have gone through hell, been worried to death. What a burden for you to carry.”

“It was, it is. But Mrs. Alice and Miss Charlotte have been most supportive, and take care of me.”

“Charles and Felicity do know about this, don’t they? You have told your parents you’re pregnant, haven’t you?”

“I had to, and Miss Charlotte was helpful, she spoke to them first. Naturally, they have been loving and caring, and Mama and Papa know it was not my fault.”

“Why do you say it’s an impediment to our marriage?”

“Because I’m pregnant with another man’s child.”

“A man who brutally raped you, ruined your life, in a sense, just like that!” He snapped his thumb and second finger together. “I’m not going to let this situation ruin your life. Or mine. I’m going to give you a wonderful life, if you’ll let me.”

She did not answer him, just sat there looking extremely worried.

Hugo said, “Do you think I can stop loving you just like that? In an instant? Because you’ve told me something terrible, told me about a brutal attack on you? How can I possibly fall out of love? Actually, Daphne, your honesty, truthfulness, and sense of honor have made me love you all the more. From the moment I met you I was in love with you, and I’ve never stopped thinking about you since. If you marry me, you will make my life complete. It will give me such happiness to be your husband. And believe me, I’ll keep you safe from harm. Always. For the rest of your life.”

“But what about the baby? Would you want me to give it up? Give it away? Because I’m not certain I could do that.”

Hugo sat back in the chair and closed his eyes, a familiar sadness flowing through him. A great sigh escaped. After a long moment, he opened his eyes and looked across at her. He half smiled.

“Do you see this man sitting here? He was a child once, a child who was given away, banished from the father he loved, from the family he loved, from the home he had been born into, and loved. He was sent away from the country he loved. He was carelessly dismissed, sent to a place he didn’t know, to people he had never met. Thrown away like a piece of rubbish. Do you think that this man, who was once that child, would let the woman he loves more than anyone else in the world give her baby away? Never, not in a million years. Daphne, the baby you are carrying is an Ingham, and I’m an Ingham, as well as a Stanton. And I’ll be damned if I’ll allow anyone else but
us
to bring up your child.”

*   *   *

Later, as they walked up the hill back to the house, Hugo suddenly asked, “What will you do, Daphne, if you don’t marry me?”

Daphne answered at once. “Charlotte came up with a plan to get me through the coming months.”

“What kind of plan?” He stopped walking and turned to look at her, obviously somewhat puzzled.

Daphne immediately told him all about Charlotte’s idea, giving him all the details.

He listened attentively, and when she had finished, he remarked, “It’s a good plan, but it will be hard. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do, but if I set my mind to it, I can do anything.”

Hugo smiled at her, and said lightly, almost offhandedly, “But you’d have much more fun if you were married to me.”

Thirty-six

W
hen Cecily saw Genevra sitting on the wall just ahead of her, she groaned to herself. She was in a hurry this afternoon, and did not wish to waste time with the Romany girl.

But the moment Genevra spotted her, she jumped off the wall and stood in the middle of the path waiting for her, a huge smile on her face. She was blocking the path, as usual.

Cecily stopped, smiled back. “Hello, Genevra.”

The gypsy didn’t reply, just went on smiling, then handed a small package to Cecily.

Putting her satchel down on the ground, Cecily took it, and opened the grubby piece of pink paper. “What is it?” she asked, frowning as she stared at the piece of bone tied with bits of narrow pale blue and scarlet ribbon.

“A charm for yer. I made it, carved it. Tek a look then.”

Cecily did so, and instantly saw the small carvings on the bone. She could just make out the shape of a swan, and what looked like the outline of a bell. She stared at Genevra and asked, “What does it mean?”

“It’s a charm. Lucky. Keep it. Don’t lose.”

“I’ll keep it, but what do the carvings mean?”

“Nowt,” Genevra said, and laughed loudly, as she always did, and went back to the wall. She cartwheeled over it, turned to face Cecily. “Be safe, liddle Ceci,” she said, and ran off across the meadow without looking back as she sometimes did.

Cecily stared after her, as usual baffled by the strange girl, then put the piece of bone in her pocket, picked up her satchel, and went on her way to Cavendon.

Once she arrived, she avoided the kitchen, which she knew would be full of hustle and bustle, since Cook would be preparing afternoon tea. Instead she went into the house through the conservatory, crossed the front entrance hall, and entered the library. All was still and quiet. There was no one around.

She had been given permission by Aunt Charlotte to copy the white rose of York and the white swan of Cavendon, which were on the big framed parchment bearing the Ingham family crest. She took out her sketching pad and sat down on the stool which Aunt Charlotte had left there for her.

Within twenty minutes Cecily had made several sketches of the swan, and the white rose. She nodded to herself as she stared down at them. Her copies were perfect in every detail.

“Hello, Ceci dear,” Charlotte said.

Startled, Cecily sat up with a jerk. “Oh! You made me jump!” she cried, swinging around to face her great-aunt.

“I’m so sorry,” Charlotte apologized. “I didn’t mean to creep up on you, startle you like that.”

“It’s all right. Look. I think my sketches are good, don’t you?”

Charlotte stepped closer and stared at the drawing book and the images Cecily had drawn. “They are indeed.” She smiled at her and asked, “But what are the images for, Ceci?”

Smiling back at her great-aunt, Cecily jumped up and explained, “This swan will be on all of the clothes I design. When I have my own shop. And I shall copy the white rose of York, in fabric. Cotton and silk, maybe even satin, and it will be like a brooch. To wear on the lapel of a suit or dress or even a coat. And it will always be white. It’s like … well, a sort of trademark.”