Cavendon Hall Part 8

"No, of course not, don't be silly. She's sad, but no more than you or me..." Ceci stopped abruptly, looked off into the distance.

Miles probed, "What is it? I know that look on your face only too well."

"It's just that ... well, she had a fall in the woods a few weeks ago. She was worried about a bad bruise on her face. It got better quickly, but she didn't want your father to know. Daphne kept quiet about her fall, so it must be our secret, Miles. Promise me."

"I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die. I understand about her problem, you know. Father has his heart set on her marrying the son of a duke, and she's acutely aware of her great beauty. But then who isn't. Anyway, she wouldn't want Papa to know she'd fallen. He'd chastise her for being careless. He's drilled it into her for years that her beauty is her greatest a.s.set."

"That must be a big responsibility for her to carry," Cecily muttered, making a face.

Miles nodded. "It's made Daphne cautious, very careful. She knows she can't damage her face, or any part of her body." He looked at Cecily with his warm, steady gaze, added in a lower voice, "You're beautiful, too, Ceci." Leaning across the food in the middle of the car rug, he kissed her on the cheek. "And you're my special girl. You are, aren't you?"

Whenever he kissed her like this, or spoke in this affectionate manner, Cecily turned bright pink, and she did so now, really blushing. Looking at him from under her long, dark eyelashes, she whispered, "Yes, and you're my special boy, aren't you?"

He offered her a loving smile, nodded, and finished his sandwich.

Cecily picked up the silver mug, which she knew Hanson had relegated to the kitchen because it was dented. She drank some of the lemonade, and then glanced at the crest engraved on the side. "Loyalty binds me," she said. She knew that motto by heart; she had heard it all her life.

Miles smiled at her, his blue eyes full of admiration for Cecily, whom he had grown up with and couldn't imagine being away from for very long. He heard a faint noise and glanced behind him. Footsteps were coming down the path, and he wondered who it was. He sat up, fully alert.

It was Genevra who appeared, and came to a sudden stop the moment she saw them, obviously taken by surprise.

"Aw, liddle Miss Swann. And Master Ingham himself, come a courtin'." She laughed, pirouetted, drew closer to them, peering at Miles. Suddenly she asked, "The Lady Daphne? How be she?"

Miles simply stared at her, speechless, not knowing how to answer her.

Cecily jumped to her feet. "What do you mean, Genevra?" she demanded.

"Be she better?" Genevra asked.

"She's not better, because she's not been ill!" Cecily exclaimed sharply, glaring at her.

"I know that, liddle Cecily."

The gypsy girl looked from Cecily to Miles. She held his gaze for the longest moment, and she saw the light around him, saw his destiny in a flash. Immediately her eyes settled on Cecily, and her heart leapt when she caught a glimpse of her future, as she had only a month ago.

Without saying anything, Genevra turned around and walked away. She stood for a moment, when she came to the edge of the bluebell woods, gazing up at Cavendon sitting there high on the hill. Her eyes swept over its glittering windows; the sheen on its walls was like a coating of silver. Blinking in the intense brightness, she closed her eyes.

When she opened them a moment later, the great house looked dark, ominous, and the future was so clearly visible to her she was startled. A shiver ran through her. Nothing had been so clear to her ever before.

Genevra, the Romany girl with the gift of sight, ran into the fields, tears blinding her as she ran. She could not change anything. What was meant to be was meant to be. Que sera sera.

Sixteen.

Alice Swann walked down the corridor to Lady Daphne's bedroom, carrying three lovely summer frocks for her. They had been altered to fit her, were freshly ironed, and Alice hoped they would bring a smile to her face, cheer her up.

Over the last week Alice had become concerned about the seventeen-year-old, who seemed lost, helpless, and lacking in enthusiasm for anything, even everyday, simple things.

Arriving at the room, Alice knocked, and when there was no answer she turned the k.n.o.b, only to discover the door was firmly locked. Drawing closer to it, she said in a low, urgent voice, "Lady Daphne, it's me, Mrs. Alice. Please let me in. I have your dresses."

When there was no sound, Alice knocked again, rapping a little harder. There were m.u.f.fled sounds from behind the door and finally she heard the key being turned. The door was opened just a crack, and Alice slipped in swiftly. When she saw the state Daphne was in, she was alarmed and locked the door immediately.

The girl was standing there, looking forlorn and somewhat disheveled. She had obviously been crying and her eyes were red rimmed, her hair rumpled, and her clothes seemed to have been thrown on without much care.

"Whatever is it, Lady Daphne?" Alice asked as she walked across to her.

Daphne said nothing, simply stared blankly at Alice, her face a picture of dismay. She started to say something, and stopped abruptly.

Alice showed her the dresses. "Look, Lady Daphne, the summer chiffons. They're ready for parties coming up. You'll look lovely in them, I'm certain of that."

"Thank you," Daphne whispered, and immediately fell silent again.

Walking across to the wardrobe, Alice put them inside, sliding the hangers onto the rail, and closing the door. She returned to the middle of the room, and firmly took hold of the young woman's elbow, ushered her over to the sofa.

"Please sit down, Lady Daphne, and tell me what's the matter. You know I will help you if I can, and you know you can trust me."

Daphne became distressed. Tears began to run down her pale cheeks, splashing onto her hands clasped in her lap. Alice noticed at once that she was trembling, and there was such a stricken look in her eyes Alice was afraid. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. Her heart plummeted, and she hoped to G.o.d her worst fear wasn't about to come true. Pulling a side chair over, Alice sat down in it, and reached out, took hold of Daphne's hand, held it tightly in hers.

Her voice was low, gentle, when she said, "Take a deep breath, Lady Daphne, and tell me why you are so troubled."

Lady Daphne Ingham, second daughter of the Earl of Mowbray, the family's great beauty of whom so much was expected, whom everyone believed would one day marry a duke's son, could not speak. For days she had been in a stunned state of disbelief, hardly able to function, and now she was running out of excuses for spending so much time alone in her room. She did not know what to do, or where to turn, except to Mrs. Alice, who had told her not to trust anyone except her parents and the Swanns. But she could not go to her parents. That was unthinkable.

Endeavoring to control her swimming senses, Daphne groped for the handkerchief in her pocket and dried her eyes. She looked at Alice Swann, and nodded, but once again she discovered she could not speak. The words just wouldn't come out. She was unable to say them.

Leaning closer to the young woman, Alice murmured, sotto voce, "Are you pregnant?"

Daphne drew back swiftly, staring at Alice, a terrified expression settling on her face. She began to shake uncontrollably. Tears swam in her bright blue eyes. Suddenly she began to sob. Then unexpectedly she reached out to Alice, who pulled her closer, held her tightly in her arms, endeavoring to calm her, fully understanding the girl's dilemma.

Daphne whispered, "I've missed two periods, and I'm now sick every morning."

Oh my G.o.d, Alice thought, this is a disaster. Whatever are we going to do? An earl's daughter pregnant out of wedlock. That was ruinous to any family, and the grander the family the worse it was. The Inghams would be shattered when they found out. Charlotte, she thought, I've got to go to Charlotte. Only she can work this out, help the earl and the countess. They trust her implicitly, and she's very clever, brilliant in certain ways.

Releasing Daphne from her tight embrace, Alice said, "This is a dreadful problem, you know that as well as I do. But I think we can prevent a huge disaster for the family if we handle it correctly."

"What do you mean?" Daphne asked, patting her eyes with her hankie. "Handle it how? My ... condition is not going to go away."

"No, it isn't, but there are ways to conceal the condition, shall we say. Ways to make certain things ... invisible."

Daphne bit her lip, shaking her head. "My parents are going to be furious, Papa in particular-"

"Let's not think about that at this exact moment, Lady Daphne," Alice cut in. "Just leave things to the Swanns for the moment. I have to speak to Charlotte. She will come up with a plan, I promise you. In the meantime, I want you to do something for me, and for yourself. And it's very important."

"What do you wish me to do, Mrs. Alice? I'll do anything if it helps."

"I want you to take charge of yourself. And at once. Now. This afternoon. I want you to put up a front, and a good one at that."

Frowning, Daphne said, "I'm not sure I understand."

"You've always been a good little actress when we've put on the family plays over the years. I want a performance. The performance of your life. You must behave as normally as possible, and look extremely beautiful. Radiant, in fact. You have to fool your family. They must not think that anything is wrong, or that you're ill or unhappy. You can't mope around, or remain in your room. Otherwise they'll become suspicious, wonder about your health."

"Yes, yes, I see what you mean. And I will be my normal self, I promise. But what will we do about ... the other thing?" she asked, sounding worried and anxious.

"As I told you, I shall speak to Charlotte, and she will deal with everything. That's all I can tell you just now. Listen to me carefully, m'lady. Everything depends on you and your behavior. n.o.body, and I do mean no one at all, can suspect anything. Secrecy is the key. You do understand, don't you, Lady Daphne? You can't confide in anyone."

"I do know that, Mrs. Alice." She sat straighter in the chair. "Tell no one. Trust no one."

Alice nodded, stood up. She walked across the room, but paused just before reaching the door. Turning, she said softly, "The Swanns will protect you, m'lady. You must remember that when you feel despondent or worried."

The kettle was whistling when Alice opened the front door of their cottage in Little Skell village and went inside. Cecily was in the kitchen preparing their tea, and Alice noticed how nicely the table had been set. Everything was ready for the two of them, and there were delicious smells permeating the air.

"You're a bit late, Mam," Cecily said, smiling at her mother. "I expected you ages ago."

"I had to help Lady Daphne try on the summer chiffon frocks," Alice improvised. "And I must say she looked beautiful in them."

"She is beautiful. But Miles is worried about her," Cecily blurted out, and stopped, wishing she hadn't mentioned this.

Alice was startled by the comment, although she did not allow her expression to change. Instead she took off her light cotton jacket and began to potter around in the kitchen, allowing Cecily to finish her preparations. But Alice's mind was in a whirl; Miles was very close to Daphne, and it was only natural that he would spot any differences in her. She could only hope no one else had. We must be quick, nip this in the bud, she thought, and sat down at the kitchen table.

She said casually, after a moment or two, "Why is Miles worried about Lady Daphne?"

"He thinks she doesn't seem like herself. Listless' was the word he used," Cecily explained, not wishing to make things worse by repeating everything. She certainly didn't want her mother to know she had told Miles that Daphne had fallen in the woods. Alice would be angry if she knew.

"I think she has been under the weather a bit," Alice finally remarked, trying to sound offhand. "She told me she's been fighting a cold ... I can only add that she was in blooming health when we tried on the dresses," Alice lied, and immediately changed the subject.

Later, Alice couldn't help thinking that it was a good thing she had talked to Daphne today. In doing so she had probably averted a family crisis, and an explosion of no mean proportions.

Cecily had made bacon-and-egg pie for their tea, and as they ate Alice complimented her daughter, exclaiming how delicious it was. A bit later she got around to Miles Ingham, wanting to probe, find out more.

"So how was your picnic with Miles?" Alice asked with a warm smile.

"Nice, Mam. DeLacy wasn't allowed to come though. She had to go with her mother and Diedre ... to see the dentist in Harrogate."

"Yes, so I heard. The countess went to visit her sister while the girls were with Dr. Potts. Poor Mrs. Sedgewick. I hear she hasn't been too well over the past few weeks. Quite ill, Cook told me."

"Miles said his aunt's poor health is affecting his mother, and that she doesn't seem to be interested in anything else except her sister's condition."

Alice sipped her tea thoughtfully. As heartbreaking and sad as it was, this illness in the family was a blessing in disguise, in a sense. It was distracting the countess, and she had obviously not noticed her daughter's listlessness, as Miles had apparently called it, or that anything was amiss with the family beauty. Daphne had been lucky to have avoided her mother's scrutiny.

"Miles told me that the earl's cousin Hugh Stanton will be arriving soon. For a weekend visit," Cecily confided to her mother, then finished her piece of bacon-and-egg pie.

"Your father told me that the other day," Alice answered, and continued, "I have to go across to see Aunt Charlotte shortly, Ceci. But first I'll help you clear the dishes."

"No, no, Mam, I can do it. You've been sewing all day. You must be worn out. You know your eyes get tired."

Alice smiled at her lovingly. Cecily was such a good girl. And she would leave Cavendon one day, and make a name for herself in the big wide world out there. She would design extraordinary clothes and be somebody. Alice knew that in her bones, just as she knew how truly gifted her daughter was, and bound for success.

Seventeen.

Hanson sat in his office, staring at the calendar on his desk. It was Friday, the eleventh of July, and next Friday, just one week from today, they would be holding the first supper dance of the summer season. The first event was usually met with great antic.i.p.ation and excitement. That was absent this year, and he was disappointed, and a little worried.

The butler sighed as he stared down at the date, wondering what sort of evening it was going to be. The countess, very sadly, was focused more on her sister's cancer than the upcoming dance, whilst the earl was worrying about his wife and her state of mind, and was preoccupied.

Lady Diedre was more aloof and distant than ever, and appeared distracted, whilst Lady Daphne had spent days moping around and looking tearful. He wondered now how much her demeanor had to do with Julian Torbett's death. He didn't have an answer for himself.

Thankfully, the family's favorite had somehow sprung back to life in the last couple of days, and was more like her old self. Looking beautiful, sounding cheerful, giving everyone smiles, being the charming Lady Daphne they were accustomed to, and loved.

Hanson was saddened that young Julian Torbett had died in such a tragic way. The woodsmen and gardeners were still talking about the rifle shots, which had been so unexpected, and hadn't come from any of their men. It was a mystery, and troubled them all.

But shots had been fired by somebody, and as a result a young man was dead ... because his horse had been spooked by the shots, had bolted and thrown him.

The Torbett family had sent their regrets that they were now unable to attend the supper dance. The whole family was in mourning and had canceled all engagements.

Everyone in the area was wary of the Torbetts, considering the family to be arrogant, sn.o.bbish, and far too big for their boots. And so, in one sense, he was not particularly displeased that they would be absent. He was just sorry the young man was dead before he had lived his life. He had been the nicest of the three Torbett sons. Alexander was a pathetic drunk and Richard, the eldest, was something of a martinet, highly disliked by the entire staff.

Henry Hanson picked up a red pencil and put a line through their names, crossing them off the list. Good riddance to bad rubbish, he thought.

Next, the butler studied the champagne and wine lists, which he and the earl had created last week. He nodded to himself. Their choices were good; he moved on, picked up the menu for the supper. It had been prepared by Cook, who knew the family's tastes and preferences, and those of their guests. The earl had approved it, because the countess had been in Harrogate.

A sudden rapping on the door made Hanson lift his head. "Come in," he called.

A second later, Lady Daphne was standing in the doorway. The moment he saw her, he jumped to his feet. "Good morning, m'lady," he exclaimed, surprised, and then he stared hard at the young woman with her, who was holding a baby in her arms.

Aware that he was taken aback, Daphne explained, "I'm sorry to trouble you, Hanson, but I ran into this young lady in the backyard. She was looking for Peggy Swift. She's Peggy's sister, and she needs to speak to her about a family matter."

"I see," Hanson responded, walking around the desk, his eyes riveted on the young woman. She was simply but neatly dressed, and did indeed have a look of Peggy.

"Please come this way. I will take you to the servants' hall, and you can sit there whilst we find Peggy. And what is your name, may I ask?"

"It's June, Mr. Hanson. Mrs. June O'Sullivan. My husband brought me over to Cavendon from Ripon. In the horse and trap. He's waiting outside."

Inclining his head, Hanson said, "Follow me," and led the way down the corridor. He was surprised to see that Lady Daphne was still with them, and turned to her. "Thank you, my lady, for bringing Mrs. O'Sullivan to me, but I can take over now."

"Oh, that's all right, Hanson. I don't mind staying with Mrs. O'Sullivan until Peggy arrives." She smiled at the young woman, who looked pale, rather wan. "Please sit down. Could I get you a gla.s.s of water, or something else to drink?"

"Oh no, thank you, my lady. I'm all right. But I will sit if I may, thank you very much. The baby's a bit heavy." She half smiled. "Boys are."