Cavendon Hall Part 29

The swann fits the ingham glove tight.

I have lain with her. She is mine.

She gives me all. I got her with child.

Oh our joy. The child dead in her belly.

Destroyed us. She left me. She came back to me. My nights are hers again. 'Til the day I die. M. Swann.

For years Charlotte had endeavored to fathom out which of the Ingham women had been the lover of M. Swann. She was quite certain this particular Swann was Percy's father, Mark, for he had been the patriarch of the Swanns in those years.

Sighing, she closed the book, went and put it away, locked the safe. Secrets, she thought. So many secrets between the Swanns and the Inghams ... intertwined for all time. And once she had also been part of it, hadn't she? Living a secret life.

Charlotte found she was unable to sleep. Finally, she got up, put on a dressing gown, and went downstairs. She boiled a cupful of milk, made herself some soothing Ovaltine, and took it into the parlor. She went and sat by the window, her favorite spot. There was a full moon tonight, and the garden beyond the French doors was glossed over with a silver sheen.

Her garden looked beautiful in the moonlight and everything was peaceful out there, the tall sycamores and oaks a towering wall of green darkness at the end of the lawn.

But it wasn't peaceful out there, was it? Not anymore. There was a stranger lurking around the parkland and the woods. It was unthinkable that this was happening at Cavendon, and she couldn't quite fathom it out. No one else could, she was sure. The only reason she could come up with was that there was some sort of vendetta going on, someone with a hatred for the family, or a grudge against them, out to do them no good. If it was not that, it was a s.e.xual pervert doing this, one who preyed on women and little girls.

Shuddering at the thought of Dulcie being taken away, s.e.xually a.s.saulted and probably murdered, Charlotte took a few swallows of the hot Ovaltine and hunched into the chair. Eventually she calmed down, and sat thinking as clearly as possible, endeavoring to sort out the myriad thoughts rushing through her mind.

Begin at the beginning, she told herself, and she did.

The first incident was a year ago, last May. Daphne was raped in the bluebell woods. Was she raped by the stranger? Or by Julian Torbett, as she claimed? Why would she lie?

To protect her parents? They had seized on the idea of it being Julian, because she had gone to see him that day. But what if that wasn't the truth? Wasn't it far better to let her mother and father believe it was Julian, a well-born young man, rather than a dubious stranger from G.o.d knows where? On the other hand, Daphne was so honest and honorable, Charlotte couldn't imagine her lying.

Yes, I can, she suddenly decided. To protect Charles. Daphne was extremely close to her father, adored him, and had gone along with all of his elaborate plans for her ... marrying the son of a duke, and all of that ... their shared dreams.

If the stranger had raped her, he had done so to hurt her and the family. To bring the Inghams down perhaps, if she got pregnant from the rape? Then there had been the fire in the stables. Daphne's horse Greensleeves had been targeted. It had obviously been arson.

Charles and Hugo believed that, and so did she. Not to mention the West Riding Police. They had even interviewed every chauffeur who had been at the supper dance that night. Their aim was to ascertain if any of the men had gone up to the stables to smoke and left a smoldering tab end around. But none of the drivers had, so they said.

According to Peggy Swift, she and Gordon Lane had been watched when they were canoodling in the bluebell woods and the boathouse. Mary Ince, the maid who had recently left, confided in Peggy that she had been surprised by a man in the woods. A man who had attempted to grab her without success.

And now, earlier this evening, a strange-looking man had tried to take Dulcie. It had to be the same man. There weren't a bunch of trespa.s.sers moving around the estate, of that she was certain.

But what to do about it? Make Cavendon safer than it was. But according to Percy, that was going to be set in motion tomorrow. High walls and barbed wire. She sighed, loathing the idea, and thinking how much the fifth earl would have loathed it too.

On the other hand, the Ingham family had to be protected. And perhaps now the Swanns needed help to do that, in the world they lived in today. Nothing was the same anymore.

Forty-eight.

Charles Ingham, the Sixth Earl of Mowbray, was upset, angry, and exhausted.

He was exhausted because he hadn't slept a wink all night, had lain awake in his bed, restlessly tossing and turning. He was upset because he knew his marriage was at an end, and had been for a very long time. And he was angry with himself for not taking charge of his household over a year ago.

Rising early, he had shaved, taken a bath, and dressed rapidly. Now at eight-thirty he was on his way downstairs for breakfast, knowing full well he was in a foul mood.

Waiting for a moment when he arrived at the bottom of the staircase, he took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and walked across the grand entrance foyer toward the dining room, calming himself, taking full control of his emotions. A smile slipped easily onto his face.

Hanson was waiting for him when he walked into the room. As always the butler's demeanor was pleasant, his quiet authority intact.

"Good morning, Lord Mowbray," Hanson said, immediately pulling out the chair at the head of the table for the earl.

"Morning, Hanson, and thank you. I suppose I'm the first this morning."

"Not exactly, m'lord. Lady Daphne popped in about forty-five minutes ago, to tell me that she and Mr. Hugo would join you for breakfast around nine. Then she went upstairs with Nurse Willis. Shortly after, they took Lady Dulcie to the South Wing, where Nurse Willis was going to give her breakfast and look after her until Lady Daphne is free."

"I'm pleased to hear that, Hanson. I must say Lady Daphne thinks of everything. I'm happy the child is safely away from the nanny. I want her out of here by noon, Hanson, make sure of that. Miss Carlton is incompetent, to say the least."

"Yes, she is, and I'll deal with it, m'lord. What can I serve you this morning?"

"I'd like a cup of tea first, and then perhaps some of Cook's scrambled eggs and bacon. I must admit I'm feeling hungry this morning, Hanson. I didn't really eat dinner last night."

"I'm not surprised, m'lord. Not with all the goings-on yesterday. Frightening, really, and upsetting."

"That's right. Oh, and Hanson, I believe her ladyship will take breakfast in bed this morning. Wilson told me she's still asleep."

"Yes, my lord." Hanson poured tea for the earl, and stepped over to the sideboard where the silver chafing dishes were lined up. A moment later he placed the plate of food in front of Charles.

"Thank you, Hanson."

The butler nodded and retreated into his pantry behind the dining room.

Charles ate slowly, and soon began to feel better with the warm food inside him. Dinner had been somewhat chaotic last night, after the near-abduction of Dulcie.

He himself had been beside himself, and slowly, over the evening, he had begun to realize how stupidly he had behaved with Felicity in the past. She had been an absentee mother for most of last year, devoting herself totally to her sister, and he had done nothing about it. He had understood her concern for Anne, and had offered her his full support. But it had been to the detriment of his children. Well, his daughters, anyway. His sons, thankfully, were away, being educated at Eton and Oxford.

It still rankled that his wife had not been there for Daphne when she had needed her the most, after the rape. Felicity had jumped at the idea of Daphne marrying Hugo, without giving a single thought to Daphne's own desires, her happiness. She had just wanted to get rid of the problem as fast as she could.

Dulcie had been neglected, left to her own devices, and had been in the hands of a nanny who was stupid, had been unsupervised, and was extremely careless.

Diedre, who was the eldest, and capable of looking after herself, had spent more time with their mother than the others.

DeLacy, forever with Cecily, had at least had Alice to deal with her clothes for the summer season, and probably other matters as well, if the truth be known. Certainly it was Alice who had helped and supported Daphne after the rape. And there was always Charlotte in the background, reliable, devoted, involved with the family, and ready to look after his girls, if need be. Once again, thank G.o.d for the Swanns, he thought.

Charles chastised himself now. He should have put his foot down long ago, not been quite so sympathetic and understanding of Felicity's almost abnormal devotion to her sister. In point of fact, she had put Anne before their children, and he had allowed that to happen.

As for his marriage, it was over. Felicity had informed him of that last night, taking him by surprise.

Distressed, exhausted, and anxious after the terrible incident involving Dulcie, he had needed to share his thoughts and feelings with his wife. He had made the a.s.sumption she would want that too, under the circ.u.mstances, and because of the child's close call. And so he had asked her to let him share her bed. He hadn't even been thinking of making love, only of comfort and affection, and sharing their thoughts.

She had rejected him in the coldest manner and he had been shocked, thrown off balance by her words, her tone of voice.

He could hear her voice reverberating in his head. "Our marriage is over, Charles," she had said. "I cannot share my bed with you. Or be intimate with you ever again."

He had been unable to respond, had just stood there, staring at her, feeling as if he'd been hit in the stomach with a sledgehammer.

"Why?" he had eventually asked. "What's suddenly gone wrong?"

"It's not sudden," she had answered. "It's been a long time since I actually cared about you s.e.xually. It has been pretense on my part, and I can't pretend anymore, or fake pleasure. So I would like you to sleep in your own bedroom in future."

"If that's what you want, then I shall." As he now remembered saying this to her, he couldn't help wondering why he had gone on standing there, looking helpless, when he was angry and hurt. He had been dismissed, as if his feelings didn't matter, as though he were of no account.

Felicity had then added, "If you want a divorce, you can have it."

Growing even more incredulous, he had been unable to think straight, shocked and bewildered by this unexpected turn of events, and at a loss.

She had asked again, "Well, do you want a divorce?"

"I'll let you know," he had snapped in a tense voice, finally pulling himself together. Then he had turned and walked toward his dressing room. In the doorway, he had swung around to look at her. "I'm forty-five years old. A young man. What am I supposed to do?" His eyes had not left her face.

"Anything you wish. You're as free as a bird," she had replied.

Sitting there, drinking his cup of morning tea, it suddenly struck Charles that when she had so icily spurned him last night it had been wounding, and emasculating. However, she had done something else. She had given him his freedom to do whatever he wanted. But at this moment he had no idea what this was.

He was still appalled by the chilliness of her manner, her total lack of emotion and feelings for him. And her blunt words. After all, they had been married for over twenty years, had six children, and he had genuinely believed his marriage was as solid as a rock. Apparently not. He had been wrong, hadn't he?

For a split second, he wondered if her bout of exhaustion had affected her more than he'd thought, brought about this odd change in her. But then her behavior had been strange for some years, even before Anne became sick.

He remembered that she had become an unwilling and pa.s.sionless lover a year after Dulcie's birth, five years ago actually. He had endeavored to ignore her coldness, turned a blind eye. And in doing so he had become impotent. She had done that to him, hadn't she? He couldn't get an erection because she didn't desire him, had no interest in him, and he knew it. He just couldn't accept it, perhaps that was it.

"Good morning, Papa," Daphne said, floating into the dining room in a lovely lilac-colored dress. "I have Dulcie safe and sound with Nurse Willis, so you don't have to worry."

Standing up, Charles said, "She's all right?"

"Oh yes, she didn't really understand any of it," Daphne rea.s.sured him.

After embracing Daphne, Charles said, "Thanks for taking care of her, you're the best, and very well organized. You can come and help me run the estate if you wish."

She laughed. "Thank you for the kind words. And any time you need me I'll be there. I'm like you, Papa, very efficient." She stepped away, gazed up at him, and said, "You look tired."

"I am a little, but there's nothing wrong that a good night's sleep won't cure."

Hugo hove into view, and Charles called, "Good morning, Hugo."

"Morning, Charles," Hugo answered, pulled out a chair for Daphne, and sat down himself.

A moment later Hanson was by their side, with a footman standing in the wings.

While they were discussing breakfast choices with Hanson, Charles pushed thoughts of Felicity away. He focused instead on Olive Wilson. He had run into his wife's personal maid in the bedroom corridor a little earlier, and she had said something about having a lot of packing to do. He had not lingered to ask her questions because he had a splitting headache.

It occurred to him that Felicity might be going up to London today. She had muttered several times last week about missing the summer season yet again, and being disappointed by this.

Perhaps she was being smart and going away for a few weeks. It would certainly make life easier for them both if they were in different homes.

Charles had a busy morning ahead of him, working with Percy Swann and Jim Waters, the estate manager. There were no two ways about it, new walls had to be built to make Cavendon safe and private.

Daphne broke into his thoughts when she said, "I think Nurse Willis will be able to get a nanny for us, Papa. She has a friend, also a Norland-trained nurse, who is looking for work as a nanny. I asked her to get in touch with this friend. I hope that's all right?"

"Naturally it is, and let's hope this person wants to come here." Now turning to Hanson, Charles said, "By the way, where's DeLacy this morning? Do you know?"

"Lady DeLacy is out on the terrace with Cecily. They are sitting with Miss Payne, chatting to her. She will be leaving shortly. The governess starts her summer holidays today, m'lord."

"Oh, of course. I'd forgotten."

"They wanted to say good-bye to her," Hanson added.

"I understand."

The ringing of the telephone in the butler's pantry interrupted their conversation. Hanson went to answer it. A moment later he came back. "It's Lady Diedre, your lordship. She is telephoning from Berlin, she said."

"My goodness!" Charles exclaimed, excused himself to Hugo and Daphne, and went to speak on the telephone.

"h.e.l.lo, Diedre. How nice of you to call. Hanson said you're in Berlin."

After these comments, there was a silence as Charles listened to his eldest daughter. After a few seconds, he said, "You've made the right decision. Let us know when you arrive in London. Safe traveling, my dear."

"What did Diedre have to say? Is she on her way home already?" Daphne asked when he sat down again.

"Yes, but she was due back soon, you know. She detests Berlin, says it's militant, and that all they talk about is war and Wagner. Tomorrow she's taking a train to Paris, and from there she will go to London. So we can expect her in a few days."

"I still think the trip's been cut short," Daphne murmured, then decided to let the matter drop.

Charles said, "Oh by the way, your mother is thinking of going to London today. She feels like a change, a few days in town. You can deal with the menus, can't you?"

"I can. But is she well enough to go by herself?" Daphne asked.

"Very much so. She's tons better, and anyway Wilson will be with her, Daphne, so you don't have to worry. And there is a full staff at the Mayfair house. With Eric Swann in charge, she'll not have to worry about a thing. Hanson trained him, remember. And Laura Swann is a housekeeper par excellence."

Walking across to the stable block and the office annex, Charles asked himself why Felicity had chosen last night to tell him their marriage was over. Especially since there had been such an upset about Dulcie's safety. Then it hit him between the eyes. He had mentioned he would like to share her bed. And she had not been able to tolerate that idea. Obviously she couldn't stand having him near her anymore. So be it, he said under his breath. His marriage was over and he was a free man.

Forty-nine.