Cavendon Hall (6 page)

“I saw her just now. Or rather
them.
Peggy Swift and Gordon Lane. They were sort of … wedged together in your little pantry near the dining room. She was canoodling with him. I was coming through the back hall upstairs and I made a noise so they knew someone was approaching. Then I went the other way. They didn’t see me. Instinctively I feel that Peggy Swift spells trouble, Mr. Hanson.”

Hanson didn’t speak for a moment, and then he said, “There’s always a bit of
that
going on, Mrs. Thwaites. Flirting. They’re young.”

“I know, and you’re right. But I did see those two, and it seemed a little bit more than just flirting. Also, they were
upstairs,
where the earl and countess and the young ladies could have easily seen them.” Mrs. Thwaites shook her head, continuing to look concerned. “I just thought you ought to know.”

“You did the right thing. And we can’t have any carrying on of that sort in this house. It cannot be touched by gossip or scandal. Let us keep this to ourselves. Better in the long run, avoids needless talk that could be damaging to the family.”

“I won’t say a word, Mr. Hanson. You can trust me on that.”

Seven

D
aphne sat at the dressing table, staring at her reflection in the antique Georgian mirror. And she saw herself quite differently. For the first time in her life she decided she
was
beautiful, as her father was always proclaiming.

Unexpectedly, she now had a different image of herself, and it was all due to the two evening gowns she had just tried on.

She had been taken aback, even startled, by the way she looked in the blue-and-green beaded dress, that slender column glittering with sea colors, and also in the white ball gown. Even though this was stained with ink, it had, nonetheless, made her feel happy, buoyant, full of life, whilst the long, narrow dress of shimmering beads had given her a feeling of elegance and sophistication she had never known before.

Leaning forward, she studied her face with new interest, and saw a different girl. A girl a duke’s son might find as lovely as her father did.

She thought he might have someone picked out for her, even though he had never actually said so. But he was determined to arrange a brilliant match for her, and she was certain he would do so. Her father was clever, and he knew everyone that mattered in society. After all, he was one of the premier earls of England.

A little spurt of excitement and anticipation brought a pink flush to her cheeks, and her blue eyes sparkled with joy. The idea of one day being a duchess thrilled her. She could hardly wait.

Next year, when she was eighteen, she would come out, be presented at court in the presence of King George and Queen Mary, along with other debutantes. Her parents would give a coming-out ball for her, and there would be balls given for other debutantes by their parents, and she would go to them all. And after the season was over, there was no reason why she couldn’t become engaged to whichever duke’s son her father had selected.

A little sigh escaped, and she sat with her right elbow on the dressing table, her hand propping up her head. A faraway look spread itself across her soft, innocent face as she let herself float along with her romantic imaginings. Her mind was filled with marvelous dreams of falling in love, having a sweetheart, a true love of her own. A brilliant marriage. A home of her own. And children one day.

A sudden loud thumping on the door brought her out of her reverie, and she swung around on the stool as the door burst open.

A small but determined little girl with a flushed red face came storming in, heading straight for her. It was quite apparent the child was angry, and having a tantrum.

“Whatever’s the matter?” Daphne asked, going to her five-year-old sister, Dulcie, who was usually all sweetness and smiles.

“I don’t like this frock! Nanny says I have to wear it. I won’t! I won’t! It’s not for A SPECIAL OCCASION!” she shouted, and stood there glaring at Daphne, her hands on her hips, looking indignant.

Daphne swallowed the laughter bubbling in her throat, and endeavored to keep a straight face. Unlike her, who had always been offhand about her clothes, her baby sister had been concerned with her own from the moment she could express an opinion. Diedre, their eldest sister, called Dulcie “a little madam,” and in the most disparaging tone, and avoided her as much as she could.

“And what is the special occasion?” Daphne asked in a loving voice, crouching down, so that her face was level with her sister’s.

“I’m having lunch with Papa,” Dulcie announced in an important tone. “In the dining room.”

“Oh, isn’t that lovely, darling. I am too, and so is DeLacy.”

Dulcie gaped at her, a frown knotting her blond brows. “Nanny said
I
was having lunch with Papa. She didn’t say you were, and DeLacy.”

“Well, we
will
be there. But I do have to agree with you about the dress,” Daphne now said quickly, wanting to placate the angry child. “It simply isn’t appropriate, not for lunch with Papa. You’re absolutely right. Let’s go and find something more suitable, shall we?”

Instantly the stormy expression fled, and a bright smile flooded Dulcie’s face. “I knew I was right,” she exclaimed, and took hold of Daphne’s hand, her normal happy demeanor in place.

Together the two sisters went down the corridor to the stairs leading up to the nursery floor. At one moment, Daphne leaned down, and said softly, “You must be grown-up about this. Just tell Nanny you do like this dress, but that it’s not quite nice enough for the special lunch. And you can say I agree with you.”

“I will.”

“You must say it sweetly, you mustn’t be rude, or angry,” Daphne cautioned as they mounted the stairs together.

“I’m not angry, not now,” Dulcie murmured, looking up at her adored Daphne, her favorite sister. She liked DeLacy, and they were good friends, but she was wary of Diedre. Her eldest sister constantly looked and sounded annoyed with her, and this puzzled and worried the child.

Nanny was waiting in the doorway of the nursery, and exclaimed, “I was just coming to look for you, Dulcie!”

Dulcie was silent.

Daphne said swiftly, not wanting the nanny to scold, “I think we’ve solved the problem.” She smiled warmly, then gave the nanny a knowing look, and added, “It’s not often Dulcie has lunch with Papa, and it’s, well, rather a special occasion for her. And I do think she could wear a more appropriate dress. Something perhaps a little smarter. I’m sure you agree?”

“Of course, Lady Daphne, whatever you think is best.” The nanny opened the door wider, and they all went into the nursery sitting room.

Dulcie explained, in an earnest tone, her expression solemn, “I do like this frock, Nanny, but I really want to wear the blue one with the white collar. Can I?”

“Of course you can, Dulcie. Let’s go and look at it, and won’t you join us, Lady Daphne?”

“I certainly will.”

Dulcie was already halfway across the floor, making for her bedroom. “Come on, Daphne, come and look at my best frock. Mrs. Alice made it for me.”

As she followed her sister, Daphne smiled to herself. She had long ago learned that the best way to handle her rather stubborn and independent youngest sister was to immediately agree with her, and then negotiate.

*   *   *

“Oh, there you are, Hanson,” Lord Mowbray said, walking into the dining room. “I was just about to ring for you. Dulcie is joining us for lunch today, a special treat for the child. So would you please add another place setting.”

Hanson inclined his head. “Of course, my lord.” He excused himself and hurried into the adjoining pantry.

The earl swung on his heels and returned to the library, where he sat down at his desk and perused the list of guests he and Felicity were planning to invite to the annual summer ball in July. He added a few more names, and then sat back, pondering, wondering who had been left out, who they may have forgotten.

It was at this moment that he saw a pair of bright blue eyes staring at him. They were just visible above the edge of the huge partners desk. Then a moment later the whole face appeared, and he knew Dulcie was standing on her tiptoes.

She said, “I am here, Papa.”

“So I see,” he responded, laughing. “So come along, Dulcie, let me have a look at you.”

She did as he asked and he swung around in his chair and held out his hands to her. “You look very lovely this morning.”

“Thank you, Papa. Mrs. Alice made this frock for me. It’s new. It’s my favorite.”

“I can see why,” Charles answered, pulling her to him, bringing her closer. She truly was the most lovely child, with her almost violet eyes, and mass of blond curls. Her pretty little face was still plump with baby fat, and she reminded him of a Botticelli angel. But one with a will of iron, he reminded himself. None of his other daughters were as stubborn.

Dulcie leaned against his knee, and looked up into his face. “Can I have a horse?”

Her request startled him. “Why a horse? Isn’t a horse a bit large for you, darling?”

“No, I’m growing up fast, Nanny says.”

“I agree, but you’re still not quite ready.”

“But I can ride, Papa.”

“I know, and you’ve enjoyed your little Shetland pony. I have an idea. I shall buy you a new pony. A better pony. Just until you can handle a horse better, when you’re a bit older.”

Dulcie flushed with happiness at this suggestion, and nodded. “Thank you, Papa! What shall I call my new pony?”

“I’m sure you will think of the right name. In the meantime, we must join your sisters for lunch, and by the way, let’s keep the new pony a secret, shall we?”

“Oh yes. It’s
our
secret, Papa.”

She clung to his hand as they went out of the library together. I do spoil her, Charles thought. But I just can’t help it. She’s the most adorable child. As they crossed the vast hall together, hand in hand, Daphne and DeLacy were hurrying down the grand staircase.

Both girls ran to greet him, and then DeLacy bent down, kissed her little sister on the cheek. “I like your dress, Dulcie,” she murmured, smoothing a loving hand over the child’s golden curls.

Dulcie smiled back and opened her mouth to speak, and then immediately closed it. The news about the new pony was a secret, her Papa had said, and she must keep it.

Eight

A
fter the special lunch, as Dulcie called it, the five-year-old was taken back to the nursery by DeLacy. Their father went off to the library to finish his correspondence, and Daphne, with nothing to do, decided to walk over to Havers Lodge.

The Tudor manor house was on the other side of the bluebell woods, and was the home of the Torbett family, old friends of the Inghams. Daphne and her sisters had grown up with the three Torbett sons, Richard, Alexander, and Julian. It was nineteen-year-old Julian who was Daphne’s favorite; they had been childhood friends, and were still close.

Crossing the small stone bridge over the stream, she glanced up at the sky. It was a lovely cerulean blue, and cloudless, filled with glittering sunlight. This pleased her. The weather in Yorkshire was unpredictable, and it could so easily rain. Fortunately, the dark clouds which usually heralded heavy downpours were absent.

There was a breeze, a nip in the air, despite the brightness of the sunshine, and she was glad she had put on a hat, as well as a jacket over her gray wool skirt and matching silk blouse. She snuggled down into the jacket, slipped her hands in her pockets, walking at a steady pace.

Julian wasn’t expecting her this afternoon, but he would be at the manor house. He always practiced dressage on Saturdays. He was a fine equestrian, loved horses, and aimed to join a cavalry regiment in the British army. In fact, his heart had been set on it since he was a young boy. He would be going to Sandhurst at the end of the summer, and he was thrilled he had been accepted by this famous military academy. He had once told her that he aimed to be a general, and she had no doubt he would be, in years to come.

Daphne wanted to tell Julian that her father had given her permission, over lunch today, to invite Madge Courtney to the summer ball at Cavendon. The Torbetts always came, and were naturally invited again this year. Her father had now thought it only proper and correct to include Madge. She and Julian were unofficially engaged, and when he graduated from Sandhurst, several years from now, they would be married.

Off in the distance in the long meadow, Daphne saw the gypsy girl, Genevra. She was waving; Daphne waved back, then veered to the left, walking into the bluebell woods, which she loved.

They were filled with old oaks and sycamores and many other species, magnificent tall trees reaching to the sky. There were stretches of bright green grass and mossy mounds beneath them and bushes that were bright with berries in the winter, others which flowered only in the spring.

A stream trickled through one side of the woods. Rushes and weeds grew there, and when she was a child she had parted them, peered into the clear pools of the water, seen tadpoles and tiddlers swimming. And sometimes frogs had jumped out and surprised her and her sisters.

Occasionally Daphne had seen a heron standing in the stream, a tall and elegant bird that seemed oddly out of place. She looked for it now, but it was not there. Scatterings of flowers could be found around the stream, and in amongst the roots and foliage. And of course there were the bluebells, great swathes now starting to bloom under the trees; they made her catch her breath in delight.

All kinds of small animals made their homes in the woods … down holes, in tree trunks, under bushes. Little furry creatures such as voles and dormice, the common field mouse and squirrels … she had never been afraid of them, loved them all. But most precious to her were the birds, especially the goldfinch. She had learned a lot about nature from Great-Aunt Gwendolyn, who had grown up at Cavendon, and it was she who had told her that a flock of goldfinches was called a “charm.” The little birds made tinkling calls that were bell-like and pretty. Her great-aunt told her they actually sang in harmony, and she believed her aunt.