Cavendon Hall. Barbara Bradford Taylor
and catching up with each other in general. They were close, and bonded to each other.
Although it was May, it was a cool evening. Charlotte had a fire blazing in the parlour; the coffee and brandy were ready for them on the sideboard, and she was waiting with a smile on her face.
Once they were settled in front of the fire in the cosy room, sipping their coffee, Charlotte said, ‘I have a bit of news. Something unexpected, and it upset the Earl this morning. I happened to be going down the terrace steps, when he saw me, and came out of the library to speak to me about it.’
‘What kind of upsetting news?’ Walter asked, eyeing her keenly, as always concerned about anything affecting Cavendon.
‘You’re not going to believe this, but Hugo Stanton’s coming back here to see the Earl.’
‘That’s a turn-up for the books!’ Walter exclaimed. ‘What’s prompted him to come home? He was packed off without so much as a goodbye.’
‘I always liked Hugo, and he didn’t kill his brother,’ Alice interjected, sounding defensive.
Walter burst out laughing. ‘No one ever said that he did, Alice.’
‘But they thought it,’ she shot back swiftly. ‘It was never even a possibility. Just his mother talking nonsense.’
‘Why was His Lordship so upset?’ Walter asked, focusing on his aunt.
‘Because he thinks Hugo wants Little Skell Manor, which is his by rights, and that he’ll turf Lady Gwendolyn out.’
‘Hugo wouldn’t do that,’ Alice protested. ‘He’s not that kind of person.’
Charlotte gave Alice an odd look, puzzlement surfacing.
Walter explained. ‘Don’t you remember, Aunt Charlotte? Alice’s father worked for the Stantons.’
‘How silly of me. I’d forgotten for a moment. Of course your father was a trainer, wasn’t he? He looked after the Stanton yard near Ripon, helped Major Gaunt train their racehorses. That’s right, isn’t it?’
Alice nodded. ‘Yes, and Hugo wouldn’t turf her out. His aunt was always on his side.’
‘If he does, Lady Gwendolyn can move into the South Wing. It’s like a self-contained flat, and large. She would be comfortable there. I explained this to Charles,’ Charlotte told them.
‘Good thinking on your part.’ Walter took a sip of coffee. ‘Anyway, it might not come to that.’
Alice said, ‘No, I’m sure it won’t.’
‘I have a bit of news too,’ Walter now put in. ‘But it’s rather sad I’m afraid. Mrs Sedgewick has not recovered from cancer, after all. She’s dying …’ Walter paused, looking sorrowful. ‘His Lordship told me tonight. The Countess is devastated, she thought her sister was better, and that they would be having a celebration luncheon today, believing her to have years ahead of her. Seemingly, that’s not so.’
‘How terrible for Her Ladyship. She must be suffering. She and her sister are very close.’ Charlotte reached for her glass of cognac, took a swallow. She was filled with sympathy for Felicity Ingham.
Alice murmured, ‘What an unfortunate mistake to make.’
The three of them sat in silence for a short while, sipping their cognac, lost in their own thoughts. There was no sound except for the crackling of the fire, the ticking of the clock, and the rustling of the trees outside. They were wise enough to understand that the unexpected frequently happened, and inevitably it was unfair. Life had a way of making its own rules, dealing its own cards, and the cards were rarely lucky.
It was Alice who finally roused herself, knowing that she would have to inform her husband and Charlotte about Daphne’s terrible ordeal. After a moment, settling herself, she said in as steady a voice as she could muster, ‘I’m afraid I have the worst news of all …’ Alice glanced at her husband, and then Charlotte, who was the matriarch of the Swann family. Barely audible, she whispered, ‘Lady Daphne was attacked this afternoon.’
‘What?’ Charlotte exclaimed, her voice rising. She sounded shocked, and gaped at Alice. ‘Attacked? What do you mean by that?’
‘Someone attacked her. Physically.’
‘I hope you don’t mean what I think you do, Alice?’ Walter gave his wife a penetrating look, frowning at her.
Alice glanced from one to the other. She saw that Charlotte was aghast, a stricken expression on her face, and Walter had disbelief in his eyes, and she knew he was filled with apprehension. It showed in the tautness of his face, the way he held his body so rigidly.
Swallowing, her mouth dry with anxiety, Alice said slowly, carefully, ‘When Lady Daphne came back to the house this afternoon I ran into her. She was dishevelled. Once I got Cecily and DeLacy out of the way, I ushered her into her bedroom. She told me something had happened. I asked her if it was something bad, and she didn’t answer me. Later she said she’d fallen.’
‘But are you certain she was assaulted?’ Walter probed, finding this hard to believe.
‘I am positive.’
Charlotte asked quietly, ‘Are you telling us she was raped?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Oh my God!’ Charlotte was horrified, and a look of fear spread across her face. She sat there unable to speak, utterly shaken.
Walter was also shocked into silence for a moment, as the words sank in, and then he cried, ‘Who would dare to go near Lady Daphne? Touch her? In God’s name who? Where did this happen, Alice? Did she tell you?’ His voice sounded harsh in the quiet room.
Alice shook her head. ‘No. However, later, when I explained to DeLacy and Cecily that Daphne had had a bad fall – remember Daphne was dishevelled, so I had to tell them something, DeLacy said that it must have been in the woods. She added that Daphne had gone to see Julian Torbett after lunch, and that she always went to Havers Lodge through the bluebell woods.’
‘Our land! She was raped on our land!’ Walter cried angrily. ‘By God, whoever did this I’ll beat the living daylights out of him.’
Charlotte was as white as bleached bone, and she spoke in a low, worried voice. ‘You are very sure of this, aren’t you, Alice? She did tell you she was raped?’
‘No, she didn’t, Charlotte. When she confirmed that something bad had happened to her, I silenced her at once. I said I didn’t need to know any more. And that she must not tell a living soul about it. I also warned her to trust only her parents, and us, the Swanns.’
‘She’s ruined,’ Walter lamented in a sorrowing, almost mournful voice. ‘Her life is over. Gone, just like that, in a flash.’
Alice said quietly, ‘Although she didn’t confide in me, I know it’s true, because of her clothes. Her jacket and blouse were torn, and there were stains on the jacket and skirt.’ Alice paused, gave Charlotte a meaningful look, then added, ‘Her underskirt was stained as well.’
‘Where are those clothes?’ Charlotte asked, concerned.
‘I brought them home, washed and cleaned them earlier this evening. I will repair them, they’ll be as good as new.’
‘Wise move,’ Charlotte answered, and sat back in the chair, her mind racing. She was thinking of Felicity and Charles Ingham, and of all their plans for Daphne, and the anguish they would suffer if they ever got to know about this.
A sudden thought struck Charlotte and she took a deep breath. ‘She’s not necessarily ruined, not as long as nobody knows about the rape but us. Because there are ways of concealing the loss of virginity … we’ll have to go to the old medical books, Alice.’
‘You have them all, don’t you?’ Alice asked,