Cavendon Hall (42 page)

“In that case, you can wear his silk dressing gown. I know it will fit you.”

Fifty-three

T
hey went downstairs together. There were wood chips and newspaper rolls in the fireplace grate in the living room, and Charlotte struck a Swan Vesta, brought the match to the rolls of paper. They flared immediately. After turning on a couple of table lamps, she went and sat on the sofa in front of the fire. Charles joined her, carrying two glasses of scotch and water.

After handing her one, he sat down in the armchair next to the fireplace. When Charlotte looked at him questioningly, he said, “I want to sit and admire you. The cat can look at the queen, can’t he?”

She nodded, and leaned forward, clinked her glass to his, and they said cheers in unison.

Charles leaned back in the chair, a reflective expression settling on his face, and eventually he said, “I would like to tell you something, but it involves Felicity. You wouldn’t mind if I spoke about her, would you, Charlie?”

“No, that’s perfectly all right.”

“Firstly, I want to make something clear to you. I know there’s been gossip here at Cavendon, about Felicity’s absence, and in case you hadn’t guessed, she is the one who left me.”

“I thought as much. Well, eventually. When she didn’t come back, I realized you were probably separated. But why did she leave you? Will you tell me?”

“Of course. Felicity told me she had lost interest in me, and especially sexually. She said I could no longer share her bed, and that the marriage was over.”

“Did she actually use those words?”

“Absolutely. And she was rather blunt, and very, very icy. I realized she had no feelings for me whatsoever, except perhaps contempt. I was rather stupid, I think. I just stood there in shock, staring at her, flabbergasted.”

Charlotte was appalled, and she stared at him, shaking her head. “I don’t understand her. Why would any woman want to leave
you
?”

He laughed. “You’re prejudiced, my darling. I think what hurt the most was that she made this announcement on the night that Dulcie had almost been abducted. All I wanted was to share her bed, talk about that terrible incident, exchange thoughts. When she started her little speech I was taken aback, and later I understood that she had come to the point in her life where she simply couldn’t stand having me near her. She left the next morning, as you are aware.”

“I can’t bear to hear this!” Charlotte exclaimed, looking across at him. How hurt he must have been, and humiliated. And emasculated. She found herself growing angry at Felicity, but kept tight control on herself. Certainly she would never say a word against his wife. That was a dangerous game to play, whatever the circumstances.

“When I reminded her that I was a young man, only forty-five, and asked her what I was supposed to do, meaning about my life, she told me I was as free as a bird.” Charles gave a small chuckle after he said this, looking across at Charlotte pointedly.

Through her laughter, she said, “I’m so happy it’s my nest you flew into, Charles Ingham. Very, very happy.”

“I suppose everyone at Cavendon knows it was my wife who left me? Am I correct?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Naturally. She’s the one who did the moonlight flit,” Charlotte answered, using a well-used Yorkshire expression. “And anyway, you’re the Sixth Earl of Mowbray, don’t forget that.”

“I won’t, but what are you actually saying?” he asked, obviously baffled.

“That you are genuinely loved here on this estate, admired and respected and looked up to. And you are everyone’s moral compass. In other words, the villagers and staff will always side with you, Charles.”

He nodded. “I just wanted
you
to know I wasn’t cheating on my wife, because she was the one who left me.”

An amused glint flickered in Charlotte’s translucent eyes, and she murmured, “You didn’t really have to say that, you know, Charlie. Especially since a short while ago you said I was an intelligent woman.”

“I know that, but I’ve always had a certain moral code, and I never strayed, nor have I ever had a mistress. But you know that, since the Swanns know everything.”

Charlotte took a long swallow of the scotch, fully aware that Charles Ingham’s pride had been savagely dented by the woman he had married and with whom he had fathered six children. Finally, she said, “Perhaps her exhaustion played a part in it,” although she was fully aware it hadn’t.

“No, it didn’t. I toyed with that idea, and so did Daphne. I must explain that Felicity became extremely strange about a year after the birth of Dulcie.”

Charlotte noticed that the light had changed outside. Twilight was coming down. She rose, went to the French doors, drew the curtains, and then did the same at the other windows in the room. All the time her mind was racing; she was wondering what to do. She was sitting here with a man whom she had known since childhood, who was, in fact, her dearest friend. She had lived all of her life close to him. She had fallen in love with him several years ago. And this afternoon they had become lovers. Didn’t she owe him something? Didn’t she owe him the truth? The only real reason she had hesitated about telling him before was the fear of hurting him. He had had enough hurt lately.

When she came back to the fireside, he said, “What was all that about?”

“What do you mean?”

“All that busy fussing around with the draperies. What are you hiding from me, Charlie?”

She shook her head, unable to lie to him, and sipped her scotch.

“I know there’s another man. I know that Felicity has another man in her life, to be precise,” he announced in a steady voice.

“How do you know?”

“My sister Lavinia told me, about six months ago. I suspected it, though. There’s usually another man when a woman leaves the way Felicity did, without giving a thought to her children, never mind her husband. Sex in itself is a powerful aphrodisiac, and especially with a man ten years younger. When he left his wife and the hospital in Harrogate, went to open a private practice in Harley Street, she followed him to London.”

“How did Lavinia find out?”

“She saw them together, and there had been a bit of gossip in London. As I just said, he’s younger than her, and it’s been going on for years, since Dulcie was a year old.” He leaned closer to her and put his hand on her knee, his clear blue eyes locked onto hers. “You know all this, though, don’t you, darling?”

“I didn’t know that she announced it so bluntly or spoke to you so coldly or what exactly she said. All I know is that there is another man in the countess’s life, and that he’s a surgeon.”

“Who else knows this?”

“Walter and Alice, that’s all. It was Walter who told me.”

“Oh my God, my valet knows all about my wife’s sex life!” he exclaimed, shaking his head. “What next!”

She knew he wasn’t angry, and she explained, “It was Olive Wilson who told Walter, Charles. When she came up to get some of the countess’s clothes. About six months ago.”

“I wish he’d told me, I really do,” Charles murmured.

“There’s a certain line even we can’t cross, and we Swanns respect that.”

“We can fornicate, the Swanns and the Inghams, and have done so for centuries, from what I gather. But we can’t confide?”

Charlotte nodded. “Yes, I suppose that is so, but I didn’t make the rules.”

Rising, she went and knelt down in front of him and looked into his face.

He was a very handsome man, irresistible to her. There was also a certain gentleness in his face, and his features were finely drawn, classical and genteel. He was well bred, kind, and caring, and she had never heard a bad word said about him. Not by anyone. And she told him that, and then she said, “Walter didn’t know what to do, to be honest, Charles. He explained that to me. On several occasions he was on the point of telling you, but lost his nerve. None of us want to hurt you.”

Leaning forward, Charles kissed her lightly. “I’m not angry with Walter. I hope you know that. In fact, I can’t ever remember any Ingham being angry with a Swann. What else did Wilson have to impart? Will you tell me?”

“Yes, I will. She’s disgusted, and not really very happy with working for her ladyship anymore. But she needs the job, you know.” She left it at that, not wanting to repeat the gory details Olive Wilson had imparted to Walter.

He simply nodded, then asked, “Are you going to let me stay for supper? May I?”

“Yes, but whatever will Hanson think, if you don’t return home for dinner?”

“I don’t know, nor do I care. But I will telephone and explain I’m having supper here with you. Just so he knows where I am, in case I’m needed.”

Charlotte realized, as she knelt there looking at him so adoringly, that he was trying very hard not to laugh, and then suddenly he did. He was convulsed, and she laughed with him, because his laughter was so infectious.

When they had calmed down, she asked, in all seriousness, “Why did you start laughing like that?”

“Because I am now forty-seven years old. I’m the Sixth Earl of Mowbray, and you’re asking me how I’m going to explain to my butler where I am. I’m not that ten-year-old schoolboy you used to boss around, you know.”

“I never bossed you around. And I was only thinking of discretion, of being careful. There’ll be gossip otherwise.”

“Oh bugger gossip!” he exclaimed, and then leaned forward and grabbed her, said against her flowing hair, “Sorry. I know you don’t like me to swear.”

“As far as I’m concerned you can do anything you want,” Charlotte said, and meant it.

“I will tell Hanson that if anyone asks where I am, he must simply say I’m out. But not where. He’s my man, and he’s totally loyal.”

“So is Walter, Charles. Don’t be cross with him.”

“I’m not, don’t be silly.” Charles let out a sigh. “I’ve a bit of bad news for you, Charlie. All able-bodied men are going to be called up. Enlistment is now compulsory.” He told her about the new act that had just been passed in Parliament the day before, and gave her the details.

“You won’t have to go, will you?” she asked, suddenly sounding genuinely concerned.

He looked at her, and said quietly, “I’m too old, and I have bad eyesight.”

“You’re not too old in my book, and your eyes are beautiful. And I’m relieved you won’t have to go to the front.”

“We’ll have a lot of villagers and estate workers leaving,” he said, sounding grim. And they did go off to war in droves.

Fifty-four

T
he day that Daphne had been dreading finally arrived. Hugo was going to leave Cavendon and go for field training at Catterick, before embarking for France to fight in the trenches.

She had several important things to say to him, and she rose early so that she could speak with him privately before they had breakfast with her father.

Hugo found her waiting for him in the little library she had created two years ago. As he walked in he thought she looked more stunning than he had ever seen her. She was always beautiful, his Daphne, but today there was something about her that stirred his heart.

She stood up quickly when he entered the room, and said, “Will you come outside with me, Hugo? And go for a very short stroll? To the rose garden.”

“Why not? You said you needed to speak to me, and that’s the perfect place. Very private, my darling?”

“That’s right.” She stretched out her hand.

He took hold of it, and went out of the library with her, and walked toward the grand entrance hall. He knew she was going to tell him something very secret or inflammatory, otherwise she wouldn’t have suggested they take a stroll. No one could overhear her in the gardens.

There was no one around. The park was deserted. Many men had gone already. Kitchener was desperate for soldiers; the troops were being mowed down by the thousands. And that was where he was going. To the killing grounds of France. And the Battle of the Somme.

He pushed these thoughts to one side as they walked down the steps and sat on one of the iron garden seats. She clung to his hand, and he looked at her and he thought his heart would break. He had to leave her to go and do his duty for king and country, and he might not come back. And he could not bear that thought. If he lost his life he would never see her again. And what would she do without him?

She was wearing pink today, and she blended in with the roses all around them, and he had that perfect picture of her in his mind’s eye, and he would keep it there, and remember, when he was on the front. It would sustain him, as would the thought of their child Alicia and the baby she was carrying.

“Hugo, listen, I want to tell you something very important,” Daphne announced, leaning into him, her cornflower blue eyes fastened on his face. She sounded and looked more serious than he had ever seen her.

“Yes, I’m listening, sweetheart,” he said quietly, holding himself still, also steeling himself for bad news.

“When you first met me, it was love at first sight,” Daphne said. “That’s how you described it. And when we went to Paris on our honeymoon, it was love at first sight for me. Not for Paris. But for you, Hugo. I want you to know I fell in love with you then. And I love you with all my heart, I always will. And you will come back to me, I am truly certain of that.”

Tears had filled his eyes, and he took her in his arms and held her close to him, breathing in her scent, as he always did, that mixture of roses and hyacinth so unique to her.

“You’re right, I will come back, Daphne. Because we have a long life to live, and much joy to share. And it makes me happy that you fell in love with me on our honeymoon. I thought you had.”

“We’re going to have five children,” she whispered.

Leaning away from her, he smiled, love for her spilling out of his eyes. “Why not six?” he asked.

“Because Genevra says it will be five. I begged her to tell me what the seven hearts mean on that piece of bone, and she wouldn’t. But then when I said you were going to war and I was afraid for you, she told me. She said you would be safe because we were going to have five children altogether. The other two hearts were for you and me. I trust her predictions, Hugo, I really do.”