The Cavendon Women (14 page)

Miles, who missed nothing, noticed Diedre's curious reaction, saw she was upset for some reason, and immediately took charge. “Let's not stand here gawking at the poor man. Let's go over and welcome him to Cavendon. At the moment we're being frightfully rude, staring at him so blatantly.”

The four of them made their way across the room just at the same moment Vanessa led Richard over to meet Lady Gwendolyn. Undeterred, Miles ushered Cecily, Dulcie, and Diedre forward to join the group.

Daphne and Hugo, who had met Richard Bowers with Charles a short while ago, sat down on the sofa. Daphne, her eyes roaming around, said, “Still a few people missing … DeLacy, late as usual, and Paul Drummond hasn't arrived yet, Hugo. Oh, and Papa and Charlotte.”

“Here's Paul now. Your father told me he would wait until everyone else was here before joining us. But I had better introduce Paul to those members of the family he hasn't met before.” Hugo rose, touching Daphne's shoulder lovingly as he went to greet his colleague and friend from New York.

Daphne nodded, leaned back against the sofa cushions, endeavoring to relax. Her eyes sought out Miles. He saw her looking at him, raised a hand in salute, signaling he was there and in charge.

She waved back, relieved that he was now in control of the evening. He was uncommonly wise for his age, an old soul, in her opinion. He was good with people, extremely insightful, skillful at handling them, and he could cope with any situation. Miles thought fast on his feet, and so did Cecily. She was as clever as he was, and they made a good team. Which was why her father wanted them in charge tonight. But what kind of future did they have together? Daphne knew that there was only trouble ahead.

Suddenly, Daphne spotted Mrs. Alice, and immediately jumped up, hurrying over to join her. Alice had saved her life, her honor, and had made sure she was safe through an extremely harrowing period. For Daphne, there was no one quite like Alice Swann, and she loved her deeply, was devoted to her.

After greeting Alice warmly, Daphne spoke to Dorothy Swann, who was married to Howard Pinkerton, a detective with Scotland Yard. The two of them had come up to Yorkshire especially for Charlotte's wedding, since she was Dorothy's cousin, and it was Dorothy who managed Cecily's business.

After being introduced to Richard Bowers, Miles took Cecily's elbow and guided her away from the crowd. He stationed them both near the door in the entrance hall of the South Wing. In a low voice he said, “Diedre was upset to learn Richard Bowers is with Scotland Yard. No doubt because of Maxine's strange death, and the fact that she was interviewed by the Yard. But then all of Maxine's friends were.”

“I saw her stiffen myself. I wonder if he knows Uncle Howard, Dorothy's husband,” Cecily said, a thoughtful look crossing her face.

“Maybe. Bowers looks to me as if he's top brass. In management. Not a copper on the beat walking the streets. He's hardly the local bobby.”

Cecily laughed, her eyes merry.

Suddenly there was DeLacy, hurrying through the entrance hall, a tentative look on her face. She slowed when she saw them, and came to a stop, hesitating.

Cecily, fully understanding her sudden wariness, took a step forward, grasped DeLacy's hands in hers. She said, in a warm tone, “It's lovely to see you, DeLacy. Let's be friends again, shall we? I really do want that.”

Tears filled DeLacy's eyes. She moved forward and into Cecily's arms. They held each other close, and DeLacy said, “I've missed you so much, Ceci. Really missed you, and I've never had another friend like you.”

“Neither have I,” Cecily answered. Stepping away, looking at DeLacy, she smiled lovingly. As her eyes swept over her, she said gently, “I think you'd better come to the shop next week. That's an old frock I made for Daphne. Two years ago now. You need something new.”

DeLacy began to laugh, and so did Miles, who said to his sister, “Ceci will get you into the right clothes, old thing.”

“I know she will.” With a small smile, DeLacy said, “I didn't want to be the only one here tonight not in one of your frocks. So I asked Daphne to lend me something.”

“She picked the right one for you,” Cecily replied, and slipping her arm around DeLacy, she began to walk her to the pale green sitting room. She thought DeLacy looked too thin and her eyes were so filled with sadness.

A sense of relief settled in Miles. They were going to be fast friends again, as they had been in childhood. DeLacy needed Cecily's strength, just as he did. DeLacy had not been herself for some time. He thought she was depressed.

The three of them paused at the entrance to the sitting room, and Miles said softly, “Aunt Lavinia's aware she's no longer in the inner circle, DeLacy.”

Cecily nodded, and DeLacy said in a whisper, “She ought to have known better. She shouldn't have said those things.”

Leaning closer to Cecily, Miles said against her hair, “I have to talk to you later.
Privately.
”

“What about? Tell me now,” she insisted.

“I can't. Oh, there's Papa and Charlotte, coming down the hall.” As he spoke he drew Cecily and his sister away from the doorway and guided them inside the room.

A moment later the earl and Charlotte Swann entered together, smiling and nodding to everyone as they moved forward, walking toward the indoor garden.

There was total silence as the couple moved through the room. Miles thought he had never seen his father looking healthier or happier, and Charlotte was stunningly beautiful.

“She looks gorgeous,” Miles said in a whisper. “And the gown is sensational.”

Cecily gave him a knowing smile.

The evening gown, made of crepe de chine, was a soft mauve color. It was extremely plain, but cut in the flowing princess line, and was elegance personified. It had a round neckline, and the narrow sleeves became bell-shaped from the elbow down. The dress was just above ankle length, showing elegant satin court shoes dyed mauve to match the gown. As with all of Cecily's clothes, the cut said it all … couture at its best.

Charlotte wore the famous Marmaduke pearls. These were large South Sea pearls of a lustrous white, each one carefully matched. It was a long single strand that sat perfectly on the dress. Her earrings were of pearls and diamonds.

Cecily was filled with pride and satisfaction when she saw how the rest of the guests looked at Charlotte. With awe, she thought; they're all awed by her. It was as if they had never seen her aunt before. And they hadn't, in a way. Certainly not looking like this, with her glossy, luxuriant hair cropped in the latest fashionable style, her perfect complexion glowing in the lamplight. Cecily knew that the mauve color of the gown brought out the faint hint of lavender in Charlotte's smoky gray-blue eyes.

She's going to be the next Countess of Mowbray, Cecily reminded herself. And she looks every inch the countess. Elegant, confident, and distinguished. Little did Cecily know everyone else in the room was thinking exactly the same thing.

 

Twenty

Daphne was troubled. Even though everything was going well, she felt on edge, still anxious that something might go wrong.

Glancing around the pink dining room in the South Wing, seeing how lovely it looked, she chided herself silently for being silly. Anticipatory despair, she reminded herself, to be avoided at all cost.

In the candlelight the room appeared to glow, and it had a warm and intimate feeling. The two tables were uniquely beautiful, as were the floral centerpieces.

Delicious food and superb wines had been served with precision and elegance by Hanson and his footmen, and she could see how pleased her father looked. As for Charlotte, she was radiant; her face was serene, and there was a calmness about her that reflected her self-assurance.

Daphne herself had placed the guests, and now she was wondering if she had made a few mistakes. No, she scolded herself, I haven't. It was obvious everyone was enjoying themselves and getting along with their dinner partners.

It struck Daphne then that perhaps this was one of the problems. Two of the men seemed rather friendly with two of the women. Her sister Diedre, seated at her table, was looking relaxed with handsome blond Paul Drummond at her side.

Her eyes went to the other table. Mark Stanton seemed about to be devoured by her aunt Lavinia, an older woman, a widow losing her blond good looks. What could Mark possibly see in her? she wondered. As Daphne continued to gaze at them she saw they were oblivious to everyone else, caught up in each other. Well, well, well, she thought, there's no accounting for taste. Who would have thought Lavinia still had it in her to entice a man like Mark.

Now Daphne's attention swung to Lavinia's sister, Aunt Vanessa, her own favorite. Vanessa was truly gorgeous this evening in a pink chiffon dress, obviously designed by Cecily. It was the glow in her blue eyes that said it all. Vanessa was in love. And of course it's serious, Daphne thought, and who wouldn't be serious about Richard Bowers? Good-looking, a perfect gentleman, and obviously as liberal-minded as Vanessa. The moment he had spotted Howard Pinkerton in the pale green sitting room, Richard had gone over to speak with him, and to shake his hand. The two of them had chatted for a few minutes, and Howard had obviously felt extremely flattered to be sought out in this way.

Her father had told her that Richard Bowers had a top job at Scotland Yard, was Eton and Cambridge educated. Although he had a law degree and could have been a barrister, he wanted to be in the justice system, hence his top job at Scotland Yard.

But he's not a cop on the beat, she thought, smiling to herself, just as Miles had pointed out earlier. She glanced at her brother, who was sitting between Vanessa and Diedre, and noticed that he only had eyes for Cecily, on the other side of the table.

I want Miles to be happy, Daphne suddenly thought. I really do. Those two belong together, and surely Papa will understand that. After all, he's about to marry Charlotte … breaking the old rules himself, setting a precedent in a way. And times had changed.

But there was a genuine stumbling block, Daphne was aware of that.
Clarissa.
Miles had told her he was going to get a divorce, but Hugo and she believed Clarissa was more than likely going to be difficult, not as easy to handle as Miles thought. There might not be a divorce for years. If ever.

Howard Pinkerton, who was sitting next to Daphne, said, “I was surprised to see Mr. Bowers here, Lady Daphne. I just wanted to say that we all look up to him at the Yard; he's that kind of man, you know, a true leader. He inspires the men, and he's known for his integrity.”

“That's wonderful to know,” Daphne responded, and suddenly looked at Miles, who had just risen. She also noticed Hanson standing in the doorway, flanked by the two footmen.

“I would like everyone to come outside to the terrace,” Miles announced. “For a little entertainment.”

*   *   *

None of the guests had expected to see a fireworks display, and they were fascinated as the night sky exploded with Catherine wheels and sunbursts and rainbow colors. It was magical. All of the villagers had been invited to come to the park, and they were clapping and cheering along the paths below the terrace as the fanciful patterns erupted above them. It was a show that became more spectacular by the minute.

Only Daphne noticed the two couples who slipped away discreetly. Diedre and Paul Drummond disappeared first, followed a few minutes later by Lavinia and Mark Stanton. Slipping her arm through Hugo's, Daphne led him down the terrace. Once they were alone, she whispered, “Looks like there are two romances blossoming here.”

Hugo glanced down at her, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“Paul seems to have taken quite a liking Diedre, whilst Aunt Lavinia has gobbled up your cousin Mark.”

Laughter filled the air, and then Hugo spluttered, “You can't be serious, darling. Now come on, tell me it's a joke.”

“It's true. And by the way, Howard Pinkerton gave Richard Bowers a great review. He said all the men at the Yard look up to him.”

Hugo nodded. “He is that kind of chap, you know. I spotted it right away. He's made of fine stuff, the type you know you can rely on in a crisis or a disaster.”

*   *   *

“So I'm definitely going to London on Tuesday,” Miles said, looking into Cecily's eyes. “I aim to move quickly. I want to see Clarissa and work out the terms of the divorce.”

“I hope she agrees,” Cecily answered, staring back at him. “You know she's not in a hurry to give you your freedom.”

“I've got to do it, Ceci. I must. The point is, will you have supper with me in London? I'll be staying in town for several days.”

There was a moment's hesitation and then Cecily said, “Yes, I will, Miles.”

He was so happy he grabbed hold of her and pulled her to him. Against her cheek, he said, “It'll be like old times.”

Cecily Swann did not answer. She was rendered speechless at this thought … old times indeed. Whatever was she going to do? She had no answer for herself. All she knew was that the barrier went up again. She must protect herself against heartbreak and pain. Miles had no control over Clarissa. Or his father. It was still the status quo, and she was aware of that. On the other hand, she
did
have control of her own life, her destiny.

 

Twenty-one

The matriarch of the Ingham family was the first guest to arrive. Charles had sent the car for her, and when Hartley pulled up outside the small church on the estate, Lady Gwendolyn saw the four groomsmen standing on the steps, each with a white rosebud in the buttonhole of his lapel and a huge smile on his face.

It was Hugo who stepped forward, opened the car door, and helped her out. After greeting her warmly and kissing her on the cheek, he led his aunt up the few steps.