The Cavendon Women (45 page)

There is no place more beautiful than Cavendon Park, especially when the sun is shining, Cecily thought as she walked up to the house from the village.

It was the middle of April, and after weeks of rain, and before that, melting snow, the weather had suddenly changed for the better. She glanced up.

The sky was pale blue this afternoon, with white, scudding clouds, and the sun was bright, if not exactly warm. Buds were opening on the shrubs and trees, and even a few early daffodils were pushing their way up. Everything was green and growing. Renewal was in the air.

After Travers Merton's tragic death, things were looking up. DeLacy was recovering slowly from her soul-destroying anguish and emotional devastation. He
had
died of a heart attack, according to the doctors at the hospital, and the medical examiner brought in by Howard Pinkerton. It was declared to be a natural death.

Travers's cousin, Vivian Carmichael, had asked DeLacy to help with his funeral, and she had done so willingly. All the Inghams had attended, to give her support, along with many of his old friends.

Cecily had quickly come to realize that this extraordinary turnout and display of loyalty and love had been part of DeLacy's healing process. It had comforted her that his friends cared so much for Travers.

DeLacy was living at Cavendon most of the time. She felt at ease within the middle of her family, welcomed their love and affection.

DeLacy was also on the mend, and in no small part because of Cecily's brother, Harry. They had been childhood friends, and in his spare time Harry went riding with her, and sometimes they all went to the theater in Harrogate. Harry was offering DeLacy some companionship, and this pleased Cecily. There was nothing worse than being alone when you were sorrowful. She knew that only too well.

Cecily was feeling rather chuffed today. Only two hours ago, Michael Alexander, the producer of the musical, had telephoned her to say he loved the first sketches of the clothes. She was enjoying this new venture, had discovered she liked designing for the theater.

Her other project, the boutique in Harte's department store, would be opening in the late summer. She was currently designing a new line of accessories exclusively for Harte's. She could sell them in her own shops, but not to any other retailers.

Dulcie had come up with a few good ideas for her, and they were already in production. She smiled to herself at the thought of Dulcie, who had already found a building in Mayfair for her art gallery.

The two of them had giggled together the other day, at the Burlington Arcade shop. Dulcie had confided that she was about to raid all the family attics in order to have an inventory for the gallery. They had both envisaged the furor this would create.

The other bit of good news was that Diedre had given birth to the baby in New York. It was a boy, and mother and child were doing well.

Cecily glanced at her watch. It was just after three-thirty. She had been invited to tea by Aunt Charlotte, who had asked her to bring some of the sketches of the clothes for the musical, and she had them in her satchel.

As she hurried past the rose garden, Cecily noticed the oak door was wide open. She went to close it, and was surprised to see her aunt sitting on a garden seat. She had her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

*   *   *

Cecily went into the rose garden, closing the heavy door behind her and running down the steps.

She flew along the gravel path; her aunt looked up and saw her, stared at her blindly, as if not seeing her at all. Charlotte's face was stark, and the color of bleached bone.

“Aunt Charlotte, what is it? What's wrong?” Cecily cried, sitting down on the seat next to her, letting her satchel fall onto the ground.

Charlotte did not answer. She sat there motionless, as unmoving as a statue. Cecily noticed a vein throbbing in her aunt's temple and there was a look of anguish in her eyes.

Cecily, who was afraid of nothing, was unexpectedly very frightened. She knew that whatever had happened, it was big. Enormous, in fact. Was the earl ill? No, she would not be on this seat if he were. She would be with him. And yet instinctively Cecily was positive her aunt was in some kind of shock. What was scaring her and creating this state of mind?

Without warning, Charlotte suddenly put her arms around Cecily and began to sob, clutching her tightly, clinging to her like a drowning woman to a raft. Holding her closely, trying to calm her, Cecily wondered where Miles was. She needed Miles. And no one else. It was apparent that Charlotte had a problem which she could not share with the earl.

After a while, the sobbing lessened, and finally Charlotte sat up, looking deeply into Cecily's face. Taking a few deep breaths, she said in a trembling voice, “I think I needed that, it helped. And I'm sorry, Ceci, to do that to you.”

Grabbing hold of her aunt's hands, Cecily said softly, “I love you. I am always here for you. Please tell me what's wrong? Explain why you are so dreadfully disturbed. Perhaps I can help you. I know the earl must be all right, otherwise you would be with him.
Are you ill, Aunt Charlotte?
”

“No, I'm not,” she answered, her voice shaking, tears behind her words. “It's Cavendon that's ill. It's dying, Cecily, it's going to disappear before our very eyes. We have lost. And without Cavendon Hall we have nothing. When Charles finds out it will kill him, I know it will. Cavendon is his life. That's why I'm hiding down here, wondering what to do. I cannot give him this news. I dare not. I'm afraid it will cause him to have another heart attack—”

Interrupting her, Cecily cried, “But what has happened? You must tell me, and we'll work out how to handle it.”

“It was Ted,” Charlotte said. “He discovered some major problems in the house—”

“You mean when Ted was having the plumbing in the bathroom repaired during the wedding?”

“Yes. First it was one bathroom, and then two, and now it's
ten
.” Charlotte broke down again, the tears flowing. “And that's not all of it,” she said, brushing away her tears with her hands. “The entire house is in danger. Bad floors, more leaking roofs, the structure is in a weakened state. When Ted came with the first bit of bad news in January, and then February, I told Charles that we had to attend to the bathrooms, bring in extra plumbers. At the time, it was two. Then it grew, the repair work I mean. To cut a long story short, Ted suggested we call in some reputable surveyors, and so we did. I asked Charles's permission to do this, explaining it was a precaution; that it was nothing too dramatic.”

“But it is, isn't it?” Cecily asserted, grasping the problem now.

Charlotte could only nod. She took out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “The melting snow, the terrible rain lately, have wreaked havoc, and so have many, many years of neglect. Today I received the written reports from the surveyors. They're horrendous, terrifying. I dread to show them to Charles. They are devastating, those reports.”

“The surveyors think the entire house needs a major overhaul, is that it?” Cecily suggested.

“Yes, it is, Ceci.”

“And it's going to be costly. I'm correct, aren't I?”

Charlotte nodded. “
Vast
. And it's money we don't have.”

Cecily sat back on the seat, thinking hard. She looked at her watch. “It's almost four. Do you think you can get through tea without displaying any emotions or being upset, Aunt Charlotte?”

“I think so. But why?” Charlotte's voice was a bit steadier.

“I want to formulate a thought I have, turn it into a plan,” Cecily told her. “A plan that might help a bit.”

Charlotte stared at her. Doubtful though she was that anyone could save them, she nevertheless listened to her niece. “What is the plan?” she asked.

“I can't tell you that until later. Who's coming to tea?”

“DeLacy, Great-Aunt Gwendolyn, you and Miles, and Charles and myself. I don't know whether you know, but Hugo took Daphne to Paris for a week. She's been longing to go for ages, and she worked so hard all these years—” Charlotte's voice broke.

She looked at Cecily and saw the determination on her face, the steely glint in her lavender-gray eyes. There was a toughness in her niece that Charlotte had always recognized, had even admired. And great brilliance as a businesswoman.

“Can't you tell me something, Cecily? Just to give me hope.”

“No, I can't. Because it might be false hope. Where are the surveyors' reports?”

“Upstairs in my underwear drawer,” Charlotte replied.

“This is what I think you should do. Go home, go to your dressing room, make yourself look beautiful. Tidy your hair and face and put on a great frock of mine. Then go downstairs to tea, and be the Countess of Mowbray. Tell Miles I'll be a few minutes late. And be prepared to make an announcement when tea is over. Tell them, us, that you have to have a family meeting.”

“When would the meeting be?”

“Right there and then. Once Hanson has cleared the tea things. That is when you will have the meeting.”

“And is that when you want me to give them the bad news? Is that it?”

“It is. But by then I think my plan to give you some help might have been formulated in my head.”

*   *   *

After Charlotte had left, Cecily remained seated in the rose garden. Taking a small notebook out of her satchel, she made several lists, closed the pad, and put it away. And then followed on the heels of her aunt.

Walking rapidly, she went up the path to the house, with many different thoughts and ideas whirling around in her head. After sorting them out, Cecily focused on Miles, and she decided it was better not to discuss anything with him at all.

He had to be as surprised by Charlotte's devastating news as everyone else. That was an imperative. The earl must not think Miles was in cahoots with her. Miles had to be an innocent bystander like everyone else. And so did Aunt Charlotte. That was the last thing Cecily had said to her. “Whatever I say, look startled.”

Once she arrived at Cavendon Hall, Cecily went in through the kitchen door, waved to Susie Jackson, the cook, and made her way up the back stairs to the conservatory. This was Daphne's private bit of space, and no one ever came in here.

Seating herself at Daphne's desk, she picked up the phone. Within a few seconds, she was asking for Mrs. Emma Harte, and was put through to her immediately.

They talked for twenty minutes. Cecily asked her three questions. Emma answered yes to each one of them. At the end of their conversation, Emma said, “You remind me of me when I was your age, Cecily. You have brilliant ideas, a flair for design, and the right take on retailing. But most of all you have tremendous courage. I'm going to enjoy our partnership. Because that is what it has just become. We'll draw up the contracts next week.”

*   *   *

Tea was in full swing when Cecily arrived in the yellow drawing room. No one appeared to mind that she was late, and they greeted her cordially.

Miles and the earl stood, and after shaking hands with Charles, she went over and kissed Miles. She was about to sit down next to him, when Lady Gwendolyn said, “Come and join me, Cecily, please. I need to discuss something with you.”

She looked at Miles through the corner of her eye, and he muttered, “Oh go on then, go and sit with her. I've got you for the rest of the day.” He winked at her, and whispered, “And night.”

Cecily kept a straight face, and crossed the room, sat down on a sofa, and placed her satchel next to her.

Lady Gwendolyn said, “I'm so thrilled that Dulcie has found a gallery. I want to give a party for her, for the opening. What do you think of the idea?”

“It's absolutely marvelous, Lady Gwendolyn, and she'll be thrilled. I believe she has now raised all the money she needs.”

Lady Gwendolyn laughed. “As long as I give her the spoils from my attic, and Lord Mowbray does the same thing, she'll be in business.”

“I know you won't refuse her,” Cecily murmured, and took the cup of tea Hanson was offering her with a happy smile on his face.

They talked about other things. DeLacy came and sat in a chair next to Lady Gwendolyn and Cecily. And the whole ritual of afternoon tea at Cavendon proceeded as normal.

Cecily was proud of Aunt Charlotte. She had done her hair beautifully, put on powder and lip rouge, and wore a beautiful lavender lace-and-silk tea gown. Cecily had made it for her last year. It still looked wonderful, Cecily thought, and decided to do a new version of it in black and white for the summer.

The most important thing was that Charlotte Swann Ingham was now in total control of herself. She was the Countess of Mowbray. Elegant, dignified, and full of charm, the perfect hostess. Bravo, Cecily said to herself. She's recouped. She's a Cavendon woman again.

*   *   *

It was just before the two footmen began to clear the tea things that Charlotte looked at Charles. “I would like everyone to stay on for a while, Charles, once everything has been cleared away.”

“Oh. Why is that, Charlotte?” He looked at her, his admiration apparent in his blue eyes. “Do you have something special to announce? It sounds like it to me.”

“Well, I'm not sure I would call it special. Interesting perhaps.”

“Whatever you want to do, my darling, is all right by me.” He lowered his voice. “Has it ever been otherwise since I was twelve years old?”

She looked at him, laughing with him, but her heart turned over. If the Ingham family fell, it would destroy him. Her smile remained intact nonetheless.

Once the family was alone, Charlotte cleared her throat, said in a steady voice, “I just told Charles that I wanted you all to stay on for a while. I have something to tell you. I hope that's all right? I hope you can stay.”