The Cavendon Women (2 page)

He was still without that much-longed-for heir. Not only had she proven to be barren, but, much to his dismay, she had soon developed an aversion to Cavendon Hall, and would not come to Yorkshire.

“Not a country girl at heart,” she had informed him, fairly early on in their marriage. What marriage? he now wondered, and strode over to the window, gazing out across the terrace, looking toward the park.

A moment later he stiffened. Cecily was coming up the terrace steps and every thought in his head fled. He felt as if he had a tight band around his chest, and for a moment he could hardly breathe. Then he swallowed, took firm hold of himself, and went to open the terrace doors.

He was stunned by her loveliness as she came toward him … the richness of her luxuriant hair with its russet lights, her ivory skin, her smoky gray-lavender eyes, which told the world she was a Swann, born and bred. They all had those unique eyes.

Cecily was wearing a white dress, trimmed and belted in navy blue, and yet it was loose, casual, the silk skirt floating around her long legs.

Finding his voice, he said, “Hello, Cecily.” His heart was pounding in his chest and he was genuinely surprised that his voice wasn't shaking. To his relief, he sounded quite normal. “Thank you for coming.”

She simply nodded, and took hold of his outstretched hand. Shaking it, she dropped it instantly, and stepped back. Giving him a cool glance, she murmured, “I hope this weather lasts for the next few days.” Her voice was soft, calm, and she was relieved she was in control of herself.

“Yes, so do I,” he agreed, and was then unexpectedly tongue-tied. Putting one hand under her elbow, he ushered her across the terrace, into the library, and closed the door behind them.

Cecily immediately gravitated to the fireplace, as almost everyone usually did. This room was always cold, even in the summer months.

“I want to apologize,” Miles announced, as he quickly followed her across the room.

“What for?” she asked a little sharply, wondering what he was referring to, and swung around, staring at him with some intensity. He had a lot to apologize for, in her opinion.

“Being remiss … never congratulating you over the last six years. For your fantastic success as a fashion designer, I mean. You've done so well, wonderfully well, and I want you to know how thrilled I am about that. And I'm very proud of you.” Miles cleared his throat, adding, “I did attempt to write to you, but every time I started a letter, I threw it away. I couldn't quite get the words right. And anyway, I thought a letter from me might annoy you.”

“Yes, it might have, under the circumstances.”

Cecily sat down in a chair near the fire. As she settled herself, straightened the skirt of her dress, she couldn't help thinking that Miles didn't look well. He had lost weight, and there was a curious gauntness about him, as well as an aura of sadness. This was particularly apparent in his blue eyes, and she felt for him, knew he'd had a hard time.

Following her lead, he went over to the sofa, and seated himself opposite her. In a low voice, he said, “I have a list of things I'd like to go over with you, about Saturday and Sunday, but first I need to discuss something else.”

Cecily's eyes were focused on him, and she nodded. “Please, tell me what's on your mind.”

“It's about our attitude toward one another. We've been civil when we've run into each other over the years. But that's all. And I do understand why. However, it's going to be a bit awkward for the next few days, if we're unfriendly, especially in front of the family. Don't you agree?”

“Yes. It's occurred to me that my antagonism toward you could present a problem, and I suppose I must mend my ways.”

“And so must I, Cecily.” A faint smile flickered on his mouth, and he added, “It struck me yesterday that we might be able to slip back into the past, to when you were sixteen and I was eighteen … maybe we could behave like we did then. We had fun, we were happy.”

When she remained silent, he said, “Well, we did have fun, and we
were
happy.”

“That's true, but I hope you don't think that I'm going to go up to the attics with you, and revisit our ‘love nest,' as you used to call it.”

She had said this so solemnly, and her face was so serious, Miles burst out laughing, surprising himself; it was the first time he had laughed in months. “Of course not,” he spluttered. After a moment, he contained his hilarity. “I'm speaking about our demeanor,” he explained.

Cecily had managed to remain poker-faced, although there had been a moment when she had almost laughed with him. But she wasn't going to give him an inch. Not ever.

Eventually, she answered, “I think if we try to erase the last few years, and remember our youthful friendship, it
will
work. I will try hard, because we must make this a perfect celebration for Lord Mowbray.”

“Thank you, Ceci, I knew you'd see the sense of striking a bargain.”

“More like a compromise, I think, Miles,” she answered stiffly.

Ignoring her iciness, he shifted slightly on the sofa, and went on, “There is just one thing I want to explain, something you should know.”

His voice had changed, was now extremely serious, and she glanced at him swiftly. Knowing him as intimately as she did, she was positive he was about to say something of genuine importance.

“Tell me, then.” Her gaze was level, steady, as she looked across at him.

“I'm going to London next week. I haven't been for ages, and I shall ask Clarissa for a divorce.”

Cecily had not anticipated anything like this, and she was shocked. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “But what will the earl say?”

“Papa knows the marriage hasn't worked. We are not compatible in any way. Clarissa hates the country; furthermore, she has never conceived. She hasn't given me an heir, and this troubles my father as much as it has upset me. And it won't happen now, because we have been separated for some time.”

When she made no response, he said, “But then you know that. Because you're a Swann, and the Swanns know everything about the Inghams.”

“Not always,” she remarked. “But yes, it's true, I did know that your marriage was not happy, Miles. Great-Aunt Charlotte told me. I'm sorry it didn't work out.”

“So am I,” he mumbled. “In view of the sacrifices I made.”

“I know” was all she said, thinking about the sacrifices she had been forced to make as well. But this was best left unsaid.

Miles continued, “I shall make Clarissa a generous offer … alimony, the house in Kensington my father gave us for a wedding present. But I'm not at all sure she'll agree to a divorce.”

A frown brought Cecily's brows together, and she asked in a puzzled voice, “But why not? She's young enough and pretty; she could get married again. And consider what she would bring to a new marriage. Alimony, and a lovely house.”

“The alimony would cease if she remarried, but she would keep the house. However, there's a problem, you see.”

“What is it?”

“She wants to have a title, to be a countess, and so she'll try to cling on. When Papa had his heart attack last year there were moments when I thought she was positively gleeful, anxiously waiting for him to pop off and clear the way for me. And for her, of course.”

“But how awful that is, Miles!
Horrid
.” Cecily sounded aghast.

“You don't say! It was preposterous, especially since we were separated by then. But I shall win, I'm quite certain. Papa has spoken to his solicitor, and the way through this is for me to take the blame, provide evidence of adultery, so that she can sue me for divorce. If she won't agree to that, I might well have to divorce her. According to Mr. Paulson, Papa's solicitor, I do have grounds. Not of adultery, but of abandonment. You see, she packed all of her things and left me here at Cavendon. In other words, she left the marital home.”

Cecily leaned back in the chair, thinking of the last six years. For Miles they had been wasted, in a certain sense. But for her they had been productive, because she had started her fashion business, and it was thriving, making money.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Miles said quietly, watching her carefully.

“I was thinking of all the years you lost,” she murmured, as honest as usual.

“I know. On the other hand, I did learn a lot about agriculture, livestock, the land, the grouse moor, running the estate. And I keep on learning.” He leaned forward and focused his eyes on her intently. “When I'm finally free, divorced from Clarissa, would there be any chance for me?”

“What do you mean
exactly
?” she asked, her mouth suddenly dry, a feeling of alarm running through her.

“You know very well what I mean. But I'll spell it out, clarify it. Is there a chance for me with you, Ceci?”

Cecily was not surprised by this question, because she knew he still loved her, just as she loved him. Nothing would ever change their feelings. There would never be another man for her, and she knew he felt the same way. But he was different in one thing. He was the heir to an earldom, and his father would most decidedly want an aristocrat for a new daughter-in-law. Not an ordinary girl like her. DeLacy had pointed that out to her six years ago, when she had blurted out that Miles was getting engaged to an aristocrat. “He could never marry an
ordinary
girl like you,” DeLacy had said, and Cecily had never forgotten those words.

“You're not answering me,” Miles said, his blue eyes suddenly filled with love for her. That awful sadness was now expunged.

The way he was gazing at her, his face so full of yearning, touched her deeply. His expression was signaling so much to her, and it reflected what she had felt for years. She said slowly, “When I was twelve, you proposed to me and I accepted. But we were too young. When I was eighteen you proposed again and I accepted. However, you married another woman. What are you saying to me now, Miles? Third time lucky?” An eyebrow lifted quizzically.

He nodded, and a smile broke through his gravity. “Yes, third time lucky indeed! So you will marry me when I am divorced?” He sounded excited and his voice was lighter, suddenly younger.

“I don't know,” she replied. “Actually, I don't think so. I've changed in many ways, and so have you.” She paused, took a deep breath. “But the situation hasn't. I'm still an ordinary girl. I can't make that kind of commitment to you now, Miles, nor should you to me,” Cecily finished, being truthful and sincere.

“You still love me, Cecily Swann. Just as much as I love you. I've never stopped loving you, and you know that.” He sat back, a reflective look crossing his face, and then he said in a low, tender voice, “We belong to each other, and we have since we were children.”

She was silent, her face wiped clean of all expression. But inside, her heart clenched. She wanted to say yes to him, to tell him she did belong to him, but she did not dare. She could not expose herself to him. Because it was his father, the Earl of Mowbray, who would ultimately have the final word in the end, not Miles.

Almost as if he had read her mind, Miles announced, “First things first, Ceci. I must get my freedom, and then we will talk again and sort everything out. Will you agree to that?”

Cecily could only nod.

Miles said, “Now, let's get down to the business of the next few days, the events. This is what I thought we should do about Saturday evening.”

He began to outline the initial plans, but inwardly he smiled. He was going to have Cecily for himself, whatever she believed. The Ingham men and the Swann women were irresistible to each other, and they were no exception. It was meant to be.

 

Three

It was a wonder, this garden, with its low privet hedges in front of the raised banks of glorious flowers. So beautiful, in fact, it took her breath away.

A smile of pleasure crossed Charlotte Swann's face, and she felt a rush of pride. Her great-nephew, Harry, had created this imaginative effect in the pale green sitting room of the South Wing.

It reminded her of the indoor garden she herself had designed for this same room, some years before. Thirteen years, to be exact, and she had built it for the main summer event that year, the annual supper dance to which the aristocracy of the county was invited.

The evening had been memorable in every way, and Lady Daphne had stunned everyone with her incomparable beauty, wearing a gown of shimmering blue-green beads the color of the sea. Everyone talked about it for weeks, and Charlotte had never forgotten how she looked.

Her mind still on Harry, Charlotte suddenly thought what a pity it was he'd had a change of heart. He was such a gifted gardener, with a great eye for form and color, and his gardens outside were works of art, in her opinion.

Unfortunately, he had lost interest in being a landscape gardener. Instead he wanted to be an estate manager, relished the idea of working with Miles, and learning from Alex Cope, who had replaced Jim Waters as estate manager at Cavendon two years ago.

Harry's rebellion had taken place at the beginning of the year, and it had shaken his father, Walter, who had felt betrayed when he realized his son was contemplating leaving Cavendon.

His mother, Alice, hadn't been quite so surprised. She had known from the moment Harry had returned from the Great War that he had been changed considerably, affected by the brutality and wholesale killing he had witnessed at the front.

All the returning soldiers had been changed by their experiences, Alice knew, even her husband. Whilst Walter was more contemplative, her son had acquired an independent attitude, become quite ambitious for himself, and felt he was owed something by society.

It was Cecily who had asked Charlotte to intervene, and she had. It had taken only a few words with Lord Mowbray, and then Alex Cope, for her to help Harry up the Cavendon ladder.