The Cavendon Women. Barbara Bradford Taylor
years. I’m very, very happy for you.’
‘So am I,’ DeLacy said, meaning this as much as Diedre did.
‘I’m so happy for you and for Charlotte, Papa. I don’t know what I would have done without her when I was little,’ Dulcie announced. ‘She gave me so much motherly love.’
‘I know, darling,’ Charles murmured. ‘She’s always been loyal, and she gave love to each and every one of us.’
After a few minutes, when everything had calmed down, it was Diedre who looked across at Daphne and then at Miles. She said softly, ‘You both already knew, didn’t you?’
They nodded, and Miles explained. ‘I had to know, because I’m the heir, and I have to understand all of my father’s actions. Daphne had to be told, because it is she who had to plan the wedding.’
‘I understand,’ Diedre said in an even voice, not at all jealous or put out that two of her younger siblings had known before she did. She was fully aware she had been sadly absent from Cavendon, and for quite some time, and so she didn’t really know what had been going on over the years.
‘When are you getting married, Papa?’ Dulcie asked, as she hovered next to him near the fire.
‘On Sunday morning,’ he answered. ‘Tomorrow evening will be … our engagement party …’ He paused, then finished, ‘On Sunday morning, Charlotte and I will be married in the church here on the estate. There will be a buffet luncheon for the Inghams and the Swanns, and then we shall depart for London, en route to Zurich.’
DeLacy asked, ‘Papa, does Great-Aunt Gwendolyn know? And what about Aunt Lavinia and Aunt Vanessa? Have you confided in them?’
Charles shook his head. ‘They don’t know, not yet. I’m going to tell them in a short while, when we have afternoon tea. You see, I felt it was only correct to explain everything to my children first. But, in all honesty, I don’t need anyone’s approval, as you well know. I am a grown man, fifty-seven years old, and I can do as I wish. I told you first because you have a right to know. And I am going to tell them as a matter of courtesy.’
Diedre said quietly, ‘Great-Aunt Gwendolyn might say you’re stepping out of your class, and—’
‘I don’t care what she thinks – or anyone else!’ Charles interrupted somewhat peremptorily. ‘It’s my life, and I shall live it as I see fit. I thrive when I’m with Charlotte. I shrivel up when I’m without her. I want to be happy in these last years of my life.’
‘The world has changed, Diedre,’ Miles interjected. ‘Sadly, many aristocratic families are suffering because of the heavy taxes imposed on us by the government. And for many other reasons. I don’t believe anyone we know is going to pay much attention to what you do, Papa, with all due respect. They’re all bound up in their own ghastly problems, trying to survive the best way they can.’
‘Well said,’ Hugo agreed. ‘No one can live their lives by what the world thinks. Charles must do as he wishes.’
‘Can I be a bridesmaid?’ Dulcie asked, throwing her father an engaging look.
He smiled, then looked across at Daphne, a brow lifting.
Daphne addressed her sisters when she said, ‘Yes, Dulcie, you can, and you, too, DeLacy, and you, Diedre. I shall be matron-of-honour, since I’m a married woman. And I’ll ask Alicia to be a bridesmaid too.’
‘We don’t have bridesmaids’ frocks,’ Dulcie murmured, making a moue.
‘I thought the three of you could wear something really summery and pretty,’ Daphne answered. ‘As for me, I shall be wearing blue.’
Her sisters began to laugh, and Diedre said, ‘And so shall we. None of us are short of blue dresses, so at least we’ll match each other. Oh, how wonderful … a wedding at Cavendon.’
As Cecily turned the bend on the dirt road she saw Genevra sitting in her usual spot on the dry-stone wall. She waved.
The Romany girl waved back, jumped off the wall, and stood waiting for her.
Cecily noticed at once that Genevra was wearing one of her old frocks, and she couldn’t help thinking how well it suited her. She had not seen the gypsy in a long time, and now she realized how she had blossomed, was actually quite beautiful in an exotic way.
‘Yer mam give it ter me,’ Genevra explained, touching the white collar of the cotton dress. Her head on one side, she studied Cecily for a moment before adding, ‘It’s me favourite.’
‘I’m glad you like it.’ Cecily hesitated for a moment before asking, ‘How old are you now?’
The girl grinned. ‘Twenty-seven. Same as Master Miles.’ Genevra glanced up at the great house towering above them on top of the hill. ‘Big ’appenings going on up yonder, ain’t that so, Cecily?’
‘All the girls are here to visit Lord Mowbray.’
‘Did yer keep that bit of bone I carved for yer?’
Cecily nodded. ‘I did. But why are you asking me about it now?’
‘It’s lucky. A charm.’ She waved a finger at Cecily. ‘Don’t lose.’
‘Of course I won’t lose it, Genevra. I treasure it,’ Cecily responded, meaning every word. Somewhat superstitious by nature, she believed that the Romany girl did have the gift of sight, as she had always claimed over the years. Some people on the estate laughed at Genevra behind her back, and belittled her, but Cecily understood how clever she actually was, and she was fond of her.
‘Did Miss Charlotte keep hers?’ the gypsy asked.
‘I’m sure she put it away carefully.’
Stepping closer to Cecily, Genevra opened her clenched hand, showed her a newly carved piece of bone. ‘Tek it, Miss Cecily. It’s a charm. I carved it for Master Miles. Give it ter Miles. Go on, tek it.’
Cecily reached for the bone, stared down at it. There were six small crosses and two hearts carved on it, with tiny strips of scarlet and blue ribbon tied on one end.
‘It’s like mine.’
‘No, it’s not.’
‘I meant the ribbons.’
‘True. Tell Miles it’s lucky. Keep Miles safe, liddle Ceci. Keep him near yer.’
‘I will,’ Cecily answered, knowing full well that she would indeed do that. She had no option. After all, when she was just a young girl, she had taken the Swann oath: To protect the Inghams.
As she walked on up the hill, Cecily paused at one moment and looked across towards the fields. In the distance, she could make out the figure of Genevra, and, on the far horizon, the Romany wagons. There were three now; the family had grown.
It was Charlotte Swann who had told her why the 6th Earl allowed them to live on his land. Many years earlier, during the period when the 5th Earl had been the head of the Ingham family, Genevra’s great-grandfather, Gervaise, had done him many services. One was discovering and catching the poachers who raided Ingham lands. The reward Gervaise and his brood were given was the right to inhabit the area near the bluebell woods for all time. The 6th Earl was just upholding that promise.
Romany wagons were a common sight in the lanes and woods of the English countryside, and had been for years. Cecily had always thought of them as picturesque. Some of the gypsies moved around, travelling from village to village, while others chose a particular area, and stayed if they were allowed. They kept to themselves, did not cause trouble.
Cecily couldn’t help thinking about Genevra’s cautionary words to keep Miles safe. She wished now