The Cavendon Women (10 page)

“You've never been a nuisance,” Cecily pointed out softly, having regained her composure.

“Thank you for saying that. I've tried to stay in the background.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Cecily said, “You have some dresses to try on, you know.”

“Let's lock up the record books and the documents, and then I will concentrate on my trousseau, I promise. Later I'll explain further about my will, and several other things.”

 

Fourteen

Diedre enjoyed her early-morning walk to Little Skell Manor, which took her through the park at Cavendon, past the lake where the two snow-white swans floated together in contentment.

She paused for a moment, watching the swans, remembering that they mated for life. If only she had been able to do that … she pushed sorrowful thoughts to one side, and moved along the path at a steady pace. Put the past behind you, she reminded herself.

At one moment, she lifted her head, glanced up at the sky. It was a clear blue on this sunny Saturday morning, and she hoped the good weather would last. She wanted it to be a perfect day tomorrow for her father's marriage with Charlotte.

How glad she was he had taken this step at long last. There was not a single doubt in her mind that Charlotte would be a wonderful wife … she had actually been exactly that for many years, without the benefit of a legal document.

Diedre had felt the warmth and love of her father, Miles, and her sisters last night at the family dinner. It had been like old times, and she had realized how much she had missed everyone.

Funny, she thought now, how we become so entangled in our everyday doings, consumed by our worries and problems. Selfish really, not giving a thought to others.

She aimed to make amends, to stay in touch with her sisters, most especially DeLacy. It had struck her last night how fragile DeLacy was, nervous, on edge. She had asked Miles if their sister was all right, at one moment after dinner. Miles had said DeLacy was unhappy about the divorce, yet could not live with Simon. Their married life had been full of terrible quarrels and violent upsets that had inevitably torn them apart in the end.

Diedre focused on Miles, who had also been unlucky in love. If he'd ever loved Clarissa, that is. Duty had been at the root. What rotten luck that Clarissa had not produced an heir. On the other hand, perhaps it was for the best. Miles had confided to her that he was going to seek a divorce. Far better in this situation that there were no children involved.

Daphne's been the luckiest, Diedre thought, her mind suddenly settling on her sister's adorable and beautiful children. As for Dulcie, she has her life ahead of her. “I'm going to take her under my wing. I'm determined to make up for the way I treated her when she was a child,” she muttered to herself. Deep inside she was still ashamed of the way she had behaved.

As she walked up the garden path to Great-Aunt Gwendolyn's house, Diedre managed to empty her mind of these thoughts, and endeavored to concentrate on what she had to say.

One thing she did know; she could not waste her great-aunt's time. She wouldn't sit still for small talk, always needed to get to the heart of the matter. And immediately. Gwendolyn Ingham Baildon was clever, a smart woman who was blessed with great intelligence and practicality. Diedre thought she had the most wisdom of anyone in the family.

Having always been drawn to her aunt, Diedre had realized as she grew older that they were somewhat similar in temperament, and was well aware she had inherited Lady Gwendolyn's penchant for bluntness and acerbity.

Lifting the brass hand knocker on the front door, she banged it once. Almost instantly the door was opened to reveal Mrs. Pine, Lady Gwendolyn's longtime housekeeper, standing there.

Smiling, greeting Diedre warmly, Mrs. Pine led her through the front hall and into the parlor. This attractive room, filled with mellow antiques, comfortable sofas and chairs, had two large mullioned windows which overlooked the gardens. The latter were beautiful, and had been lovingly cultivated by Harry Swann until he had become Miles's right hand, learning estate management with him.

Her great-aunt was sitting on a sofa, waiting for her. “There you are, my dear,” Lady Gwendolyn exclaimed, “punctual as always. I do like that characteristic in people. Those who arrive late are thoughtless. They're stealing one's time, don't you know.”

Diedre nodded. “That's correct. And thank you for agreeing to see me this morning.” She bent over and kissed her aunt's cheek.

“I'm happy to have a little private visit with you, Diedre. Do sit down, my dear, don't hover.”

Taking a chair next to the sofa, Diedre said, “I want to be very forthright with you, Great-Aunt. And I'm well aware you prefer to understand a problem immediately. So, no wasted time, I promise.”

“You are absolutely correct, Diedre. Please, tell me what it is that's so worrying you.”

“I've been informed by a very good friend, a trusted friend, that I have an enemy at the War Office. I was stunned when I heard this. My work has been excellent, and I've had promotions over the years. My friend said this enemy could prove dangerous to me.”

Lady Gwendolyn sat up straighter on the sofa and gave Diedre a penetrating look, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I don't like the use of the word ‘dangerous,' Diedre. Dangerous in what way?”

“I'm not sure. I think that whoever is against me wants me to be dismissed, pushed out, in other words.”

“What exactly is it that you do at the War Office? No one seems to know, and you've been very wary about discussing it over the years. Which leads me to make the assumption you are in Intelligence. Is that so?”

Diedre leaned forward slightly, and said in a low voice, “I am not allowed to discuss my work, Great-Aunt. But let me just say that I have never known you to be wrong about anything, and most especially in your assumptions.”

A twitch of a smile crossed Lady Gwendolyn's face, and she nodded. “Now, do you have any indication who this enemy might be? Were you given a name? Or do you suspect anyone of wanting to harm you?”

“The answer is a definite
no
to all of your questions. I was rather dumbfounded, actually, when I was told I had an enemy, one who was out to make trouble for me. I've racked my brains, and I haven't been able to pinpoint anyone.”

“Who was the person who informed you, may I ask?”

“A very old friend, Alfie Fennell,” Diedre answered. “And he was so sincere I did believe him.”

“Is he any relation to Sir Hubert Fennell?” Lady Gwendolyn asked.

“Yes. That's his uncle.”

“How did young Fennell get to know about this so-called enemy of yours?” Lady Gwendolyn now asked.

“Through his cousin Johanna Ellsworth. They are close. Neither have anything to do with the War Office. Alfie is a barrister, and Johanna does not work. She has a private income. But she is very well connected. Moves in political circles.”

“It seems that your friend Johanna knew about this first and passed it on.”

“She told Alfie she had heard a strange rumor about me, and she wanted him to alert me, even though she said it was only a rumor.”

“I think you have to find out who told her.”

“I did do some probing, and I know the right questions to ask. I gathered that it was just … out there.”

Lady Gwendolyn was silent for a moment, before remarking, “You say you can't think of anyone who might want to cause you trouble. But maybe it's not someone …
highly visible
. Have you ever offended anyone, without realizing it? Have you rejected a would-be suitor whom you didn't know was a suitor? Is someone in competition with you?”

“None of those things. At least, not that I know of. I just plow into my work every day, and keep my head down.”

“Have you told any of your colleagues at the War Office about this rumor?”

“No, I haven't. I thought it better not to say a word to anyone except you. Obviously, I know people there, and we're friendly as colleagues, but I don't have any bosom chums. Actually, I'm baffled at the mere idea of an enemy.”

“How can I help you, Diedre?”

“I'm not sure. Being able to talk to you about this helps a lot, because now I don't feel so alone, coping with this problem.” Diedre let out a small sigh, shook her head. “I thought you might know someone at the War Office, or in the government. But now, as I'm saying that, I know you can't just start asking your friends who my enemy might be, now can you?” Diedre began to laugh at her own absurdity, and so did Lady Gwendolyn.

After a few moments, Diedre added, “I suppose all I can do is just wait and see who tries to make trouble for me.”

“That is true, my dear, in one sense. But I'm afraid I can't just leave it at that. Let me think about this. I am going up to town next week. I have several engagements to fulfill, and who knows what I might find out as I circulate in Mayfair and Westminster with my friends.”

“Thank you, Great-Aunt Gwendolyn, I do appreciate your help. I love my work—” Diedre broke off as her voice started to quaver unexpectedly. She was on the verge of tears. Swallowing, promptly taking hold of herself, she continued, “The War Office is a huge part of my life, as you know. I've been there twelve years, and I love what I do. Without it I would be lost.”

“I truly understand,” Lady Gwendolyn murmured sympathetically, having always been aware that Diedre found great fulfillment in her work, and was dedicated to her professional life.

*   *   *

They talked of the wedding and other things as they sipped the lemonade Mrs. Pine had brought out, enjoying being together.

At one moment, Lady Gwendolyn said, “I'm going up to town on Monday. When do you plan to return?”

“Also on Monday,” Diedre answered. “Perhaps we can travel together on the train.”

“What a good idea, my dear. And it will give us a chance to talk some more about this problem hovering over you.”

 

Fifteen

It was a weird and dubious story at best, and if anyone else had told her this strange little tale, Lady Gwendolyn would have doubted its veracity.

Since it was Diedre who had related it, she believed it was the truth. Her great-niece was honest and dependable, not given to flights of fancy.

Leaning back against the iron garden seat, gazing out at the flower garden, she relaxed, let her mind wander.

She knew nothing about Diedre's work, other than that she was well thought of by the powers that be. Only today had Diedre confirmed that she was in Intelligence, which Lady Gwendolyn herself had long suspected but never mentioned to anyone. She was always cautious when it came to such things.

As for Diedre's personal and social life, it was perfectly normal for a young woman. She was thirty-three now, and had never married, although there had been plenty of boyfriends, even serious suitors, over the years.

As the daughter of one of the foremost earls in the land, with a title in her own right, she mixed in the best of circles, was genuinely popular and on the invitation lists of everyone that mattered in London society.

There had never been any gossip about Diedre … no Chinese whispers. Lady Gwendolyn sat up with a start, frowning to herself, suddenly recalling Maxine Lowe, one of Diedre's closest friends. She had been found dead in suspicious circumstances at her house in Mayfair, four years ago now.

At the time, Lady Gwendolyn had been annoyed when Diedre had been interviewed by Scotland Yard. But her worries immediately vanished when her great-niece told her that all of Maxine's friends had been questioned by the police.

Diedre had then gone on to explain that the big boys at the Yard thought they might be looking at a homicide; some agreed with this theory, others focused on the idea of suicide.

Then a different verdict altogether was announced by the coroner at the inquest. Maxine had indeed died from poisoning, and the substance ingested was arsenic. But the manner of death was declared to be undetermined. Leaving the verdict inconclusive in this way meant that the case was open to speculation; there had been a lot of talk about Maxine's sudden death in the circles she had moved in, mainly high society and the artistic world. In the end, nothing ever came of the police investigation. Her death remained a mystery to this day.

Now Lady Gwendolyn focused on Diedre's problem at this moment, and her razor-sharp mind told her one thing … the rumor about Diedre being pushed out of the War Office had nothing to do with her personal life. She believed it had been started by a colleague with a grudge against Diedre.

Nothing else made sense, actually. Obviously there was someone who wanted Diedre out of the way. Jealousy, envy, and ambition. A most fatal combination. Malice, she said to herself. It's driven by malice aforethought.

If you wanted to punish a person, the only way to do it without causing them bodily harm was to attack whomever or whatever they loved the most. Hit their vulnerable spot hard.

This might be another human being, such as a spouse, a child, a parent, siblings. Or a lover, perhaps. A person who could be physically damaged, maybe even killed. She dismissed the idea of a lover. Diedre had become very much a career woman. But she was beautiful with her chic hairdo and lovely face, not to mention her stylish clothes.

Alternatively, a career that was relentlessly attacked could ultimately be totally destroyed forever, never to be rekindled.

These were the only two choices, as far as she was concerned. Hurt someone Diedre loved. Or destroy her career totally.

Discovering the identity of Diedre's enemy was an imperative. Until they knew who it was, they would be whistling in the dark. Who could Lady Gwendolyn turn to for help? Which of her friends had real power? Whom did she trust? And who would actually be willing to poke around for her?