Cavendon Hall (32 page)

“Cooee! Cooee!” a voice suddenly called, attracting her attention.

Charlotte paused, swung her head, and saw Lady Vanessa, the younger sister of Charles and Lavinia, running down the terrace steps. She was waving and her face was full of smiles.

Waving in return, she waited for Vanessa, who came to a stop in front of her a moment later, and threw her arms around Charlotte.

The two women hugged, and Vanessa exclaimed, “Char, you look beautiful! And that lavender frock does suit you.”

Charlotte said, “You look marvelous yourself, Vans.” As usual, these two women reverted to their childhood nicknames for each other whenever they met after an absence on Vanessa’s part. She lived mostly in London and only came to Cavendon for the holidays and special occasions.

“I’m feeling good. In top form, actually,” Vanessa answered.

“I suppose you’re still banging the drum for the suffragettes, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but I’m not so militant these days. We are making good progress. Emmeline Pankhurst is a charming, brilliant, and powerful woman, and she’s getting people to listen to her, to pay attention. You’ll see, Char, one day women will have equal rights. Where are you heading now?”

“To the South Wing, I’m doing the floral decorations for the rooms being used for the wedding on Saturday.”

“Then you’re in your element, gardens and gardening are your vocation. I’ll keep you company for a few minutes.”

The two women started walking, Vanessa falling in step with Charlotte. They had been close since they were children, had grown up together, were comfortable and at ease with each other. Vanessa Ingham was a modern woman, something of a visionary, tolerant, liberal minded, and without any side to her.

After a moment, Vanessa casually remarked, “I must admit, I was awfully surprised when I received the wedding invitation. They’d only just got engaged. Is there a reason for this headlong rush to the altar?” She gave Charlotte a penetrating stare.

“Anne Sedgewick’s illness is one of the reasons. Sadly, she’s at death’s door, and could pass away at any moment. Daphne asked her parents to let her get married as soon as possible, while Anne is still alive. She knew that if she made the date for later in the year, she and Hugo might have to postpone the wedding for the mandatory mourning period.”

“Oh gosh yes, I hadn’t thought of that. What are the other reasons?” Vanessa probed.

“Hugo’s business interests. He’s very successful. I’m sure Charlie told you that. He has to be in Zurich and also New York very soon and he wishes Daphne to travel with him. I can’t say I blame him.”

“Neither can I. They’re lucky they found each other, aren’t they? It’s not so easy to fall in love these days. There aren’t that many eligible men around. Charles told me it was love at first sight for those two.”

“Yes. And you’ll see how happy they are together, and well suited. Hugo’s a rather special man.”

“I’m glad. Has Charlie said anything to you about Lavinia?”

Charlotte stopped in her tracks, and gave Vanessa a direct look, nodded. “He’s been a little worried about her and a new male friend. But he didn’t really say much more than that.”

“He’s truly angry with her, Char, and he thinks she’s making a fool of herself with that awful Alex Mellor. A seasoned womanizer, if ever there was one, and I tend to agree with Charles. He’s terrified of scandal touching the family.”

“I know that. Don’t you remember how upset he was when we were young, when the Hateful Harriette was falling about drunk, making scenes in Mayfair nightclubs, and getting herself in the newspapers? Charlie was mortified his father had to go through that ghastly episode.”

Vanessa made a face, and said, “It was tremendously embarrassing for him, and he doesn’t want to have scandal blight the family name ever again.” She squeezed Charlotte’s arm. “I’d better dash. I’m going to be the last one in for tea, as usual. See you later.”

“I’ll be around if you need me, Vans. In the South Wing all day tomorrow.”

Charlotte watched Vanessa flying off, racing across the lawn. She had always been thin, fast, and elegant, like a pedigree filly. A thoroughbred. Charlotte loved her, and appreciated what a true and loyal friend she was. They were devoted.

A few seconds later she went into the kitchen, and was greeted by the sound of Cook singing, “Here comes the bride! Here comes the bride!”

Mrs. Jackson was alone, standing in front of her long oak table, waving a wooden spoon in the air like the conductor of an orchestra.

She stopped singing abruptly when she spotted Charlotte. “Luvely ter see yer, Miss Charlotte. Miss Wilson said ter tell yer she won’t be a minute.”

“I’m not in a hurry, Cook, and I must say, you’re certainly in the right mood for the wedding.”

“I am that, right thrilled. It’s a treat ter see Lady Daphne so happy. Mr. Hugo’s luvely, that he is.”

Charlotte agreed, and continued, “Are you sure you don’t need extra help on Saturday? I can get a few more of the village girls to come in if you need them, Mrs. Jackson.”

“I don’t, but thank yer, Miss Charlotte. We’re well prepared. As yer knows, Hanson is the master of organization.”

Before Charlotte could make any comment, Olive Wilson, lady’s maid to the countess, walked into the kitchen. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Charlotte. I had to check on something for her ladyship.”

“That’s all right, Olive.”

“I’ll make yer a pot of tea,” Cook announced.

Charlotte glanced at Olive, who nodded and said, “That would be nice, Cook, thanks ever so much.”

Within seconds, Olive was carrying a tray holding a teapot and two cups and saucers into the servants’ hall down the corridor. It was quiet and cool after the warm kitchen.

Olive poured the tea, and said, “Thank you for coming. Alice said you’d be here in the South Wing, but I didn’t want to miss you. That’s why I sent a message.”

“I gather you wish to speak about something private,” Charlotte answered, giving Olive a questioning look.

“I do, and I realize that this might not be a good time, just before the wedding. But I’m very worried about her ladyship. Sick with worry, really.”

“Why? What’s the matter with her?”

“She’s … well, she’s just not
right.
Not the way she was before I went to London to deal with my mother’s affairs. I really do believe she’s ill.”

“What leads you to think that?” Charlotte pressed, leaning forward, wanting to know more. Had Olive seen something in Felicity that she had missed?

“She’s not behaving like the woman I know, and have known for quite a few years. She’s remote, preoccupied, and also absent-minded. I know she’s not sleeping well, because that she told me, and certainly she has no appetite. Actually, Charlotte, her ladyship seems to be living in her own world. I feel, somehow, that she’s isolated.”

Charlotte was thoughtful for a moment before she said slowly, carefully, “I’ve noticed a remoteness in her, a distance, and I do know she has been preoccupied, Olive. I’m sure the latter has something to do with her sister’s illness. The countess has been, and no doubt still is, very worried about Anne Sedgewick.”

“She goes to the hospital a lot, to visit her sister, but I have a feeling she’s also seeing a doctor there, getting advice,” Olive confided quietly.

Startled by this comment, Charlotte exclaimed, “How could you know that?”

“I don’t, not for sure. It’s intuition on my part. I think that she might have an illness, and is trying to keep it a secret. From all of us, including the earl.”

“I hope not, Olive. Look, why don’t you just come out and ask her if she’s feeling unwell?”

“I have thought of doing that.” Olive compressed her mouth, looking more worried than ever. “But I don’t like to intrude.”

“You
must
ask her. She’ll confide in
you,
after all, you’re with her all the time. She depends on you for so many personal things. You help her to dress and undress, and you do her hair. You look after her clothes and jewels, all of those things. You’re on a truly personal basis with her ladyship, and always in her orbit. Ask her, and let me know what she says. Maybe
we
can help her, you and I. Maybe she needs some loving care, and someone to unburden herself to … like
you
.”

Olive nodded and smiled for the first time in days. “Thank you for listening. I do appreciate that you came to see me at once. I trust your judgment and I will have a word with the countess. After the wedding. I don’t want to venture down that road and upset her just before her daughter gets married.”

“That’s a good thought. Don’t bring anything up until after Lady Daphne and Mr. Hugo have left for their honeymoon.” Charlotte finished her cup of tea and stood up. “I’m sorry, but I do have to leave now, Olive. I’ve such a lot to do in the South Wing.”

“I understand, and thanks for coming.”

Charlotte smiled at her. “Try not to worry, we’ll solve this. Keep me informed, won’t you?”

“I will.”

Leaving the servants’ hall, Charlotte went up the back stairs, and made her way through the house to the South Wing. She swiftly processed everything Olive had said, impressed with her acuity. Olive had picked up on Felicity’s strange behavior very quickly since returning to Cavendon. There
was
something wrong with the countess, although Charlotte had no inkling what this was. Certainly it did not have anything to do with Anne Sedgewick, of that Charlotte was quite certain. Rather, it was something to do with Felicity herself. She just wasn’t sure what that could be. It was a puzzle. After Daphne’s safely married I’ll tackle it, Charlotte decided. One step at a time.

Forty-one

W
hen the bride and groom came through the church porch and out onto the steps the rain had stopped, the sun was shining, and the sky was blue. Daphne lifted her eyes and looked up, breaking into smiles when she saw the arc of the rainbow in the sky.

“Hugo, look! There’s a rainbow! And aren’t we lucky the rain has stopped?”

“We’re lucky to have each other, that’s what I think, Lady Daphne Ingham Stanton.” He grinned at her. “We’re married, Daphne, well and truly married by the good vicar of Little Skell, and that’s what matters most to me.”

The clapping and the cheering started as the villagers standing on both sides of the path edged closer to see their own beautiful bride, the daughter of their earl and countess. And beautiful she truly was, in her white lace wedding gown and flowing veil that surrounded her like a cloud.

“Congratulations, Lady Daphne! Congratulations, Mr. Hugo!” some of the villagers were already shouting, while others took up the chant, “Hip, hip, hooray, hip, hip, hooray, for the bride and groom today!”

Stepping forward, Daphne and Hugo went along the path to greet their well-wishers, laughing when they were showered with rose petals. Some of the women were singing “Here Comes the Bride,” and they had lovely voices, Daphne thought.

Daphne was surprised there were so many of their people in the grounds, but then the church could only hold a certain number.

On their way to the church earlier, her father had said that everyone from the three villages would be turning out to enjoy the wedding and give her a good send-off. Afterward, they would attend the tea party in Little Skell village hall, and he had added that this was his treat.

It was when she was lifting her hand to wave at the crowd outside the church gates that Daphne saw him.
Richard Torbett.
She was stunned. He was standing there, as bold as brass, glaring at her.

Taken by surprise, she stiffened, drew closer to Hugo, who sensed something was wrong, and glanced at her. “What is it? Are you all right?” he asked worriedly.

“I’m fine. I almost slipped on the wet stones, that’s all,” she quickly improvised.

Daphne couldn’t resist glancing toward the road again and was shocked to see he was no longer there. He had been, hadn’t he? Or had she imagined it?

All of a sudden thoughts of Torbett fled when she and Hugo were surrounded by their family. Her parents; Aunt Gwendolyn in her usual royal purple; her aunts Lavinia and Vanessa; Uncle Jack; her brothers, Guy and Miles, so smart in their morning suits; and the three Dees in their pink taffeta bridesmaid dresses. How adorable Dulcie was in her long dress and carrying her posy of pink roses.

Then came Major Gaunt and his three sons, thrilled to be with Hugo and attending his marriage, and incredibly excited that he was returning to live in Yorkshire.

Finally they were able to extricate themselves, and went down the path and through the gate to the waiting car trimmed with white satin ribbons.

“Lady Daphne! Lady Daphne!”

She turned around and saw Genevra running across the road, waving something in the air. The Romany girl came to a stop, stood a few feet away from her, and offered her something. “Lucky charm,” the gypsy said, coming closer. “Don’t lose.”

“Thank you, Genevra,” she said, taking the bit of bone from her, wondering what on earth it meant.

“You be happy,” Genevra muttered, and in her usual fashion she ran off without saying another word.

“Who was that?” Hugo asked, looking puzzled.

Before she could answer him, Daphne was surrounded by DeLacy, Cecily, Mrs. Alice, and Miss Charlotte. They began to help her into the car, lifting up her voluminous veil and long train, and DeLacy was taking her bouquet of white roses from her. A moment later she and Hugo were being driven away from Little Skell village and back to Cavendon Hall.

The house was virtually deserted, since the entire staff had gone to the wedding. Hugo took hold of her arm and led her into the library. Once inside the room, Daphne put down her bouquet and looked at the piece of bone. On it were tied little bits of silver and white ribbon, and there were carvings down one side. “They’re little hearts,” Daphne said after a moment, showing it to Hugo. “Genevra’s strange, but she’s harmless.”

Hugo studied the bone, and murmured, “Seven hearts altogether. What do they mean?”

“Lots of love perhaps,” Daphne said, turning to him.