The Cavendon Women (3 page)

“Is it all right, then?”

Charlotte jumped, startled at the sound of Harry's voice. She swung her head. He was leaning casually against the doorframe, a quizzical look on his face.

“More than all right,” she answered. “It's beautiful. Harry, you've outdone yourself.”

“I think I inherited what bit of talent I have from you, Aunt Charlotte.”

“Oh, you're a much better gardener than I am, a true professional, and it was good of you to take the time and trouble to create it. Thank you, Harry.”

“It was my pleasure, and my way of saying thank you to
you
for helping to sort things out with Dad,” he answered, and strolled into the room. “I'd like to ask you something…” He stopped, became hesitant, as if changing his mind. After letting his sentence trail off, he stood hovering silently next to her chair, obviously at a loss.

She looked up at him, thinking what a handsome son of a gun he was. At twenty-eight he was tall, like his father, and had inherited the striking Swann looks, his features chiseled, the thick hair the same russet brown as hers. He even had her grayish eyes with that odd tint of lavender peculiar to the Swanns.

“Is there something wrong, Harry?” she asked. “You seem worried.”

“Not worried, just curious, I suppose. I've been wondering why you asked Ceci to help Miles. With the upcoming events tomorrow, and on Sunday. Couldn't he have teamed up with one of his sisters?”

She shook her head. “Daphne is too busy, Dulcie too young, DeLacy too depressed. As for Diedre, she's far too intellectual for such mundane matters as arranging events for a family get-together. Ceci was my only choice, because I think he needs backup.”

“Poor Miles. I feel sorry for him, working with my sister. He'll get frostbite.”

Charlotte laughed, shaking her head. Harry's tone had a pithy edge, but then he always had an appropriate retort on the tip of his tongue.

“I did have another reason though,” Charlotte now volunteered.

“I thought as much,” Harry answered. “He's so worn-out, and damaged. Miles needs some kindness. And Ceci will be kind to him, even though I know that deep down she's still angry.”

Charlotte eyed Harry, thinking how astute he was at times. But then he knew his sister well, and he and Miles had been friends since boyhood, had grown up here.

“It did strike me I might be playing a dangerous game, getting them together,” she said. “But then I realized they are both adults. Grown up enough to handle themselves, and their problems.”

“I agree.” He moved away, went to look at the flower beds, took a deadhead off a bloom, put it in his pocket. Without looking at his aunt, he murmured, “You're expecting some sort of trouble, aren't you?”

“To be honest, I'm not sure. A lot of mutterings and dire warnings perhaps, nothing we can't cope with. On the other hand, I thought it better to be prepared. And there's nobody like Cecily when it comes to taking control of a difficult situation. Also, she can be neutral, very calming and rational. I've always told her she would've made a good diplomat; she's a really good negotiator, you know.”

“Who's a good negotiator?” Lady Dulcie asked from the doorway, and walked into the room, looking beautiful in a primrose-yellow summer dress. At eighteen she was very much the same person she had been as a child. Precocious and outspoken, with a quick, facile tongue. She was no longer afraid of Diedre, but cautious around her eldest sister, and automatically wary. Self-confident, sure of herself socially, she had a superior intelligence with a lot of brainpower.

Charlotte had been like a mother to Dulcie. She had brought her up, alongside Nanny Clarice, and with Daphne's help. These three women had been the biggest influences in her life.

Gliding across the room, her face filled with smiles, Dulcie went straight into Charlotte's outstretched arms. The two women hugged, and then stepped apart.

Charlotte said, “It's lovely to see you, I'm so glad you're back. I've missed you. London was nice though, wasn't it?”

“It was, Miss Charlotte, and I really enjoyed staying with Aunt Vanessa. She helped me so much with my art studies, but I'm very happy to be home.” Glancing at Harry, whose eyes had never left her, she blushed slightly as she said, “Hello, Harry, it's nice to see you.”

He inclined his head, his face also full of happiness. “Welcome back, Lady Dulcie” was all he managed to get out. Inevitably, he became tongue-tied when the earl's youngest daughter was present. She was so beautiful, he became light-headed whenever he was in her company. He adored her, secretly yearned to know her better.

Charlotte took charge. “Look at the beautiful garden Harry created, Lady Dulcie. For the dinner tomorrow evening. It's superb, isn't it?”

“I've never seen anything like it,” Dulcie answered. Turning to Harry, she added, “Congratulations, you're a true artist.” Then she laughed. “I remember now, I did see one like it years ago, when I was about five. I barged in here, all covered in chocolate, just before the big dance was about to start.”

Charlotte smiled, remembering this incident herself. She hadn't been present, but she had certainly heard all about it the next day.

“Apparently none of the ladies were able to come near you, since you were covered in that chocolate. At least, so I was told. They were afraid of the chocolate getting on their gowns.”

Dulcie grinned, then asked, “Where's Daphne? Do you know, Miss Charlotte? I haven't been able to find her.”

“I'm sure she'll be back in the conservatory by now. She told me she was going there, to check on all of her seating plans, and other matters concerning the next few days.”

“Then I shall go there. Once you've told me who the good negotiator is.”

“Why, Cecily, of course,” Charlotte answered.

 

Four

“Welcome back, darling,” Daphne said as Dulcie rushed across the conservatory and flung her arms around her favorite sister. “I've missed you,” she added, and then held Dulcie away, staring at her intently. “More beautiful than ever,” she pronounced.

“No, no, no, you're the renowned beauty of this family,” Dulcie exclaimed, and went on swiftly, “I couldn't get here quick enough, I've so much to tell you. And mostly about Felicity.”

Daphne nodded, and guided Dulcie over to the wicker love seat, where they sat down. Ever since their mother had left Cavendon, Dulcie only ever referred to her as Felicity, never Mama. Sometimes she even referred to her as “that woman who abandoned me,” and had a string of ridiculous and rather nasty nicknames for her.

Daphne understood why. Felicity had been too preoccupied with her sister's fatal illness, and her own personal problems, to pay too much attention to Dulcie when she was little, and the child had never forgiven her. Now that she was a young woman, that animosity still lingered.

Settling herself on the love seat, Daphne said, “So tell me everything, I'm all ears.”

“I've been informed that Felicity is finished with Lawrence Pierce. Apparently, she's thrown out that knife-wielding maniacal quack, and by the way, that's not the only thing he wields. From what I understand, he's quite the womanizer, wielding his manhood everywhere.”

Dulcie sat down next to her sister, and waited for a reaction, her eyes fixed on Daphne's face.

Daphne burst out laughing, as always genuinely amused by Dulcie's extraordinary use of language. Their father constantly said she had a unique way with words, and should have been a writer. Daphne thought the same thing.

“Who told you this?”

“Margaret Atholl's mother,” Dulcie answered. “Lady Dunham. She also said there's a rumor that the marriage is unhappy, and Felicity is planning to return to Cavendon. She won't come back, will she, Daphers? I couldn't bear to have that greedy, man-hungry creature here. Papa wouldn't fall for her again, would he?”

Shaking her head, the laughter bubbling inside her, Daphne answered, “She won't even attempt it. And certainly Father is not interested in her one iota. This is just idle gossip you've heard. However, perhaps she
is
going to throw the surgeon out. I, too, have heard stories about his behavior.”

“A flagrant, and very experienced adulterer, who thinks he's the Don Juan of all Don Juans, impossible to resist. And very conceited about his … hidden charms, shall we say?”

Daphne couldn't help laughing again, and then she finally managed to say, “All surgeons think they're God, according to Diedre. Because they save lives, I suppose.”

“Or ruin them,” Dulcie shot back. There was a moment of silence, and then Dulcie moved closer, confided, “I think Aunt Vanessa might marry her artist friend. He's awfully nice, by the way, and he's from the very proper Barnard family, and well connected. He was very kind to me, helping me with my art history course.”

Daphne was taken by surprise, and gave Dulcie a penetrating look. “Are you
sure
there's an engagement in the wind?”

“I'm not absolutely certain, but it looks like it to me. He practically lives at her house, and they're never apart. They sort of … drool over each other.”

“Papa doesn't know. He would have told me. But then Aunt Vanessa doesn't have to report to him, since she's in her forties and can do whatever she wants.”

“Gosh, I wouldn't want to wait so long to get married! Is that too
old
to have babies, do you think, Daphers?”

“Perhaps,” Daphne answered.

Dulcie, who was facing the door, jumped up when she saw her father standing there. He looked furious, and she wondered if he was angry with
her.
Because she hadn't gone to see him first.

Daphne also caught sight of him at the entrance to the conservatory, and instantly knew something had happened. The angry stance told her that. What had upset him? He was usually easygoing, genial. She cringed inside, prayed it wasn't anything to do with the events planned for the next two days.

“Hello, Papa,” Dulcie said, immediately after their father came to a stop next to them. “I just arrived,” she explained swiftly. “I was about to come and say hello to you, Papa.”

A smile flitted across Charles Ingham's face, and disappeared at once. He brought his youngest daughter into his arms, kissed her cheek. “Welcome home, darling. Glad to have you back, and also that you're early.” He paused, released her, and asked, “Have either of your sisters arrived yet?”

“Not that I know of; I think I'm the first. I wanted to get here in time for afternoon tea.”

He nodded, and then turned his attention to Daphne, who had risen from the love seat. “I need to speak to you about something. Privately. And it is rather urgent.” He glanced at Dulcie. “Would you excuse us, Dulcie, please?”

“Yes, of course, Papa. I must go up to my room. I left Layton unpacking my suitcases.”

*   *   *

Once they were alone, Daphne gave her father a questioning look. “Papa, whatever's wrong? I can see you're angry.” She felt taut, anxious, and endeavored to conceal this.

“I'm angry, upset, and totally baffled. I went down to the lower vaults, to get something from one of the safes, and I discovered there are pieces of jewelry missing.”

Daphne couldn't hide her shock. “But how can that be? Only you have the key!”

“That is true, and it was in its designated place. I took it, opened the main vault, went to a safe, took out a case, and found a pair of earrings missing. Diamond earrings. I looked in several other cases, and they were empty. I was in shock, Daphne. I couldn't believe my eyes.”

“Please, Papa, let us go down there at once. And we had better check all of the jewel cases. Don't you agree?”

“I do indeed. I was so upset I just rushed up here without doing that.”

“Do you think somebody knew where the key was? Took it, went down there, let's say during the night, and made off with pieces?”

“How can I say? Who would know where the main key is kept?”

“Have you mentioned this to Hanson?”

The earl shook his head. “I came straight up here, looking for you. Let's go, Daphne, and bring a piece of paper and a pencil with you. We'd better make a list of everything that's missing. How unfortunate I discovered this now, with all the things we have going these next few days.”

*   *   *

Although there was a silver vault on the kitchen level, which contained pieces used all the time, there were other, older vaults on the floor below, in the lower cellars. These vaults had been built by Humphrey Ingham, the First Earl of Mowbray. He had planned them with the architects, when the house was being built in the 1700s. They were cavernous, and not only housed a huge collection of jewelry, but also all of the most important and valuable pieces of silver made by the great master silversmiths of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.

As they hurried down the lower staircase, Daphne asked, “When was the last time you were in the jewelry vaults, Papa?”

“Not recently, that's a certainty. We haven't been having parties, so no one thought of taking jewels out to wear. I'm puzzled, I truly am, but we must solve this mystery and reclaim the pieces. My father, my grandfather, and my great-grandfather always called these vaults our safety net. The pieces were bought for investment purposes, as well as to be worn and shown off. A lot were bought by the first earl, Humphrey Ingham, when he was a trader in the West Indies, and in India. He purchased diamonds from the famous Golconda mines, and those pieces are unique.”

When they arrived at the iron door, Charles unlocked it, stepped inside the huge vault, and turned on the light. “It's a good thing my father put electricity in down here, otherwise where would we be today?”