The Cavendon Women (15 page)

Harry Swann, Mark Stanton, and Paul Drummond were the other groomsmen; hovering behind them was Miles, who was to be his father's best man. Each of them had a special word of welcome for her, especially Harry, who continued to supervise the gardener who had taken over from him. She was very fond of Harry, knew him to be a young man of great competence, also dependable and loyal. She was happy he was working with Miles, helping to run the estate.

Oh dear, all this blue, Lady Gwendolyn suddenly thought when she saw the bridesmaids waiting just inside the church. They were looking truly beautiful, each holding a posy of white and pink roses.

The four Dees, and Daphne's twelve-year-old daughter, Alicia, wore elegant dresses, all different in style but of the same delphinium blue, an Ingham favorite. And I'm wearing delphinium blue, too, she thought. Dear oh dear, and then she laughed to herself, thinking: Oh well, who cares? This is such a wondrous day.

Lady Gwendolyn was thrilled that an Ingham was marrying a Swann at long last. This thought lingered as she walked down the aisle, arm in arm with Hugo.

*   *   *

Although Lady Gwendolyn had no way of knowing it, Charlotte Swann was thinking exactly the same thing about the Inghams and the Swanns at this moment in time.

Charlotte stood in her newly decorated dressing room at Cavendon Hall, which she had not used before, waiting patiently as Cecily fastened the twenty-two buttons running down the back of her wedding gown.

Her mind was centered on her marriage to Charles, due to take place very shortly. After more than one hundred seventy years of close ties between them, a Swann was marrying an Ingham for the first time. She knew only too well from the record books that there had been a lot of intermingling of the two families in that time, but never a wedding.

Charles had been asking her to marry him for the last five years, constantly listing all of the reasons why they should take this step. They loved each other; he genuinely wanted her to be his wife; he had a pressing need to know she would be safe and protected in every way if she outlived him.

She had always refused, understanding the ancient rules between the aristocracy and the other classes, and also she was aware of the many pitfalls such a union could create. It was only after his heart attack last year that she had finally succumbed to his endless pleading that they wed.

He had succinctly pointed out, in no uncertain terms, that if he fell ill again, and perhaps became mentally impaired, his children would be in charge of him and his life. He had added that if he could not do his own thinking, he wanted her to be the one to do it. And no one else. He then reminded her that they had grown up together, understood each other completely, and looked at life in the same way. “You must become my wife; we must make it legal,” he had said in a most determined voice, and she had finally agreed they should get married.

That would happen in about half an hour, and then they would start a new life together. They were both in their fifties, and she did not know how long they would have together. That did not matter. They would live each day to the fullest, and she would look after Charles, and endeavor to protect him as best she could.

His constant anxiety about Cavendon Hall, the running of the estate, and the financial burdens of it were ever present and debilitating at times. This was one of the reasons she was glad he had agreed to remain abroad for three months, and not three weeks as everyone thought.

Charlotte believed it would do him the world of good to be away from the pressure of business, the awful worries about DeLacy and Miles and their unhappy lives, and the absence of a grandson who would inherit the title from Miles and ensure the continuation of the Ingham line. And now there was the hideous problem of the missing jewels. When Charles had confided in her on Friday he had added that Daphne was going to deal with Felicity, and immediately she had been heartened, and also relieved.

Despite her great beauty, and her appearance of fragility and femininity, Daphne was tough, had a backbone of steel. Charlotte was absolutely certain Daphne would win the battle with her mother. There was no doubt in her mind about that—

“All right! The last button fastened!” Cecily exclaimed, interrupting Charlotte's thoughts. “And now for the cape.”

“Can I go and look at myself?” Charlotte asked, glancing at her great-niece.

“No, no, not yet,” Cecily answered in a firm voice.

At this moment the door of the dressing room opened, and Cecily's mother, Alice, walked in, and stopped. She stood staring at Charlotte, surprise flashing across her face. “Oh my goodness! Don't you look—”

“Don't say a word, Mam,” Cecily instructed, staring hard at Alice. “I want Aunt Charlotte to be just as surprised as you are.”

Alice nodded, fully understanding what Cecily meant. Charlotte looked extraordinary, so beautiful in the wedding gown, Cecily wanted her Aunt Charlotte to see her transformation for herself.

The gown was made of the palest of gray-blue silk crepe de chine, and although it was simple in style it was a marvel. It had no side seams, only one seam down the back, which would be hidden by a cape. Essentially, the gown was a long tube with a scooped-out neckline and long, narrow sleeves ending at the wrist.

Alice knew that Cecily, wanting to be sure that the dress hung correctly, had sewn tiny lead pellets in the hem. Now she realized that the small weights worked to perfection. And they were invisible, because the crepe de chine gown was lined with silk. She's clever, Alice thought, as always filled with pride in her daughter, often awed by her talent.

Cecily said, “Mam, come and help me, will you please?” As she spoke she placed a matching pale blue crepe de chine cape on Charlotte's shoulders.

“Of course,” Alice replied, hurrying across the room.

This was not a typical cape, full and flowing. Instead it was very narrow; Cecily called it “skinny.” It sat on the shoulders only, did not even edge out onto the collarbones, and it merely grazed the sleeves. The back of the cape hung straight down, and was extremely narrow.

Looking at her mother, Cecily said, “I've used hooks and eyes. Obviously the hooks are on the inside of the cape, the eyes on the shoulders of the gown. Here, take a look before we fasten it in place.”

Within a second the cape was attached, and Cecily announced, “There you are, Aunt Charlotte! You're ready to walk down the aisle. Now you can go and look at yourself. And don't forget, you will feel the small weights in both the cape and the dress as you move, but they don't show, I promise you.”

“I trust you implicitly,” Charlotte answered, smiling at Cecily, and then she turned and slowly walked over to the cheval mirror at the other end of the dressing room.

Charlotte was startled when she saw her reflection. She could not believe how she looked in the gown and cape. She had tried on both items of clothing in London, and had had several fittings, but the finished effect was extraordinary. The narrow gown and narrower cape made her look slimmer, taller, and pale gray-blue was a flattering color for her. The pieces were elegant couture at its best, and they told her why Cecily was a genius.

As she stared at herself, wondering who she had suddenly become, Charlotte realized Cecily had been right to insist she use cosmetics. Her complexion was clear and translucent; she did look younger than she was, and had few wrinkles. But the touch of lip rouge on her mouth and mascara on her eyelashes enhanced her face.

As for her hair, the cropped style suited her, was sleek and modern. Her only pieces of jewelry were a pair of small diamond studs in her ears, and the sapphire engagement ring Charles had given her before the dinner last night.

“You're not saying anything,” Alice said at last. “Don't you like the way you look, Charlotte?”

“I do, I do. I'm just astonished,” Charlotte replied with a small laugh.

Cecily laughed with her. “You look beautiful, Aunt Charlotte, and now it's time for us to leave for the church.”

*   *   *

Walter Swann had an expression on his face that was a mixture of astonishment and delight. His aunt, looking half her age, was a picture of elegance and grace, and he knew she would make every head turn in the church. As for his daughter, Cecily, she had taken her marvelous talent to yet another, even higher level. The pale blue gown and cape were incomparable, and his pride in these two Swann women knew no bounds.

Alice understood exactly what her husband was thinking with just one glance at his face. “They've both rendered you speechless, haven't they, Walter?” She said this with a warm but knowing look. “I do believe it's a grand day for the Swanns.”

“It is indeed,” he agreed, then walked over and kissed Cecily on her cheek. “Congratulations, you've outdone yourself.”

Turning to Charlotte, he continued. “And you, Aunt Charlotte, are without a doubt the most beautiful Countess of Mowbray I've ever seen. Congratulations to you, too.”

“I'm not a countess yet.”

“You will be shortly, and you're going to knock their socks off.”

The three women laughed, and Cecily announced, “We must go.”

Walter offered his arm to the bride. “I'm thrilled I'm the one to give you away.” Glancing across at Cecily, he added, “Now I understand why you've had a tarpaulin laid from the end of the stable yard up to the church. To protect the hem of the dress and the pale blue shoes.”

Cecily nodded. “Correct. But it wasn't my idea, actually, Father. Miles thought of it when I told him Aunt Charlotte must walk to the church because I didn't want her to crease her gown sitting in a car.” Now hurrying across the grand entrance hall where Walter had been waiting, she added, “And now it's time to take that walk. Come on, all of you, let's go to the church.”

*   *   *

The small church stood on a rise behind the stable block. It had been built when Cavendon Hall was erected and was made of the same stone.

Charlotte was well aware how meaningful it was to the Inghams and the Swanns, who had worshipped God here, held their christenings, marriages, and funerals in this sacred place.

As she stood at the top of the nave, clinging to Walter's arm, its ancient history seemed to wrap itself around her, and comfortingly so. The past was the present … immutable. Those long gone were part of them, had made them who they were, and there was something reassuring to her about their lineages, the way they were bound together …

She glanced up at the high-flung ceiling, crossed with dark beams, and then her eyes lighted on the marvelous stained-glass windows, their brilliant jewel colors glittering in the bright July sunlight filtering through. They depicted long-dead Inghams resplendent in their armor, bearing their shields. Proud and valiant men.

The church had a timelessness to it. She knew it would stand forever, defying the passage of time, would be a place of sanctity and comfort for those who would worship there in the future long after she was gone.

Suddenly she became aware of the cold, and shivered, as she usually did here. Then she took a deep breath and settled herself. The air smelled of mildew and dust. But today the mustiness was overlaid with the intense scent of flowers, every kind of flower, it seemed to her.

Her eyes roamed swiftly; she noticed the tall urns of blossoms running along each wall on either side of the nave, and the altar was a mass of roses in tall vases, and was breathtaking. She was certain this was Harry's work. Still, there was no doubt in her mind that Miles and Cecily had been behind this profuse floral display. They so wanted to make this day special for her and Charles.

For a few seconds Charlotte got lost in her thoughts. Earlier she had looked in the cheval mirror and seen another woman. And, in fact, she was exactly that. In a few minutes her life would change. She would become a woman who had just taken on enormous responsibilities as the wife of the sixth earl.

She knew it was her duty to help Charles uphold the honor of the Ingham name; support the entire family; protect this great stately home, its three villages, and the villagers who lived there; and do everything in her power to ensure the Ingham bloodline. She would not shirk these duties; she welcomed them.

The pressure of Walter's hand on hers increased, and she glanced at him. At the same moment she became aware of low-level noises … the rustling of clothes, whispers, hurried voices, a few coughs and clearing of throats, the murmur of the bridesmaids behind her. Suddenly Mrs. Parkington began to play the first strains of the wedding march on the organ.

“It's time,” Walter whispered, and began to slowly lead her down the middle aisle.

Charlotte fell into step with him.

She carefully avoided looking from side to side and smiling at those seated in the pews. Instead she stared straight ahead, her eyes focused intently on Charles Ingham.

He was standing at the altar with Miles, waiting for her, a look of anticipation on his face … that face she had known and loved all of her life. As familiar to her as her own. As she drew closer, he began to smile, and he was still smiling when Walter put her hand in his, then stepped back and away from the altar.

They stood together in front of the vicar, who began the marriage ceremony. It seemed to Charlotte that the words rushed by, and that she answered by rote, as did Charles. And then, quite unexpectedly, there were gold wedding rings on their fingers and they were pronounced man and wife. And Charles was holding her in his arms, telling her how much he loved her.

Charlotte felt slightly dazed when, a few seconds later, they were walking down the aisle together, arm in arm and clinging to each other.

When they stepped out of the church and into the sunlight, they saw a sea of smiling faces. The grass lawns on each side of the stone path were filled with villagers, who had come to wish them well.

They threw confetti and rose petals and cheered Charles and Charlotte. Someone began to sing, “Here comes the bride.” And there was a lot of clapping and cheering once again. No one doubted how much they cared for the couple who had just been married. The sixth earl could do no wrong in their eyes and he deserved his new countess.