The Cavendon Women. Barbara Bradford Taylor
botched operation for appendicitis.
It should not have happened. He had been far too young to die, and she had been devastated by the loss, as had everyone else. At thirty she had become a widow, and she had been a widow for fifty-six years. Paul had been buried in the cemetery alongside her ancestors, such a long time ago now.
They had never been lucky enough to have children, but the memories were there, to be recalled at will and mulled over … they were almost living things, so vivid in her mind and in her heart.
As she strolled along, Gwendolyn glanced around. The park at Cavendon was always beautiful, whatever the time of year, but today it was spectacular. It was a perfect July afternoon, the bright sun shining in the light blue sky, everything so green and verdant. The great oaks were ancient sentinels along the path, their thick branches forming canopies of dark leaves high above, offering cool shade in this warm weather.
Within minutes she saw the gazebo ahead. Charlotte was standing on the steps waiting for her. Charlotte Swann. A remarkable woman. She had known her since the day she had been born, fifty-eight years ago, and there was a certain closeness and friendship between them; they were comfortable with each other, but then Charlotte never overstepped the line, was never out of place, and Gwendolyn was open-minded and without an ounce of snobbishness in her character.
Charlotte, her face full of smiles, said, ‘Good afternoon, m’lady.’
‘Hello, Charlotte, my dear.’ Lady Gwendolyn took the hand being offered, and mounted the few steps.
After ushering her over to a white wicker chair, Charlotte said, ‘I’m glad you suggested meeting here. Cecily and Miles are still going over details for the weekend, and Mrs Alice is finishing my packing. I’m afraid it’s a bit busy at the house.’
‘I rather thought there would be quite a lot of activity around you, and this seemed the most suitable spot to meet for a quiet chat. We’ll be undisturbed.’
Charlotte sat down at the table. ‘What did you wish to speak to me about, Lady Gwendolyn?’
‘I’m sure Charles has already told you how delighted I was to hear his news at tea yesterday. However, I did want to tell you that myself, and to congratulate you. I’m very happy you are marrying Charles, Charlotte. I have something for you.’
Lady Gwendolyn opened her handbag and took out a package wrapped in blue silk and tied with white ribbon. She placed it in front of Charlotte.
A moment later, Charlotte found herself holding a brooch in her hands. It was made of gold, designed in the image of a swan. The gold was carved to look like feathers on a plump body, and around the swan’s long neck there was a narrow band of diamonds. The swan’s eyes were made of small sapphires, its beak formed of slivers of mother-of-pearl and ebony.
‘It’s beautiful, Lady Gwendolyn!’ Charlotte exclaimed. ‘Thank you so much. I can see it’s old.’
‘Very old, in fact,’ Lady Gwendolyn replied. ‘The worn box is obviously ancient. There’s no jeweller’s mark or name on the pin, or on the box, but it is so beautifully crafted it must have come from a fine shop.’
Charlotte nodded, touched by this gesture on Lady Gwendolyn’s part. Her eyes filled. After a moment, clearing her throat, she said, ‘I shall treasure it always.’ She glanced down at the brooch. ‘May I ask who gave it to you?’
‘My mother,’ Lady Gwendolyn answered without hesitation. ‘The brooch has been passed down for years. I decided you should have it. You’re about to become an Ingham, and you are a Swann. A fitting token from an old woman who thinks the world of you.’
Charlotte experienced another little rush of emotion. After a moment, she said, ‘You’ve always been so kind to me, Lady Gwendolyn, and you’ve never passed judgement on me.’
Staring at her, frowning, Lady Gwendolyn asked, ‘Because of your love for my brother? Is that what you’re referring to?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why would I judge you? You made David happy, gave him a new lease on life. And he loved you, Charlotte.’
‘He helped to make me who I am. He taught me so much, and he gave me a wonderful life.’ Charlotte laughed. ‘In secret, of course.’
‘I knew about the two of you,’ Lady Gwendolyn murmured. ‘I never said one word to anyone.’
‘Thank you for that.’
‘Stop thanking me, Charlotte. It is I who should be thanking you for all you’ve done for us. And I just want to add this … welcome to the Ingham family officially.’
Walking back to Little Skell Manor, Lady Gwendolyn chastised herself for not telling Charlotte the truth about the brooch. She had suddenly lost her nerve, if the truth be known. But she must know more of the story, she murmured to herself. And I will tell her when she comes back from her honeymoon.
If I haven’t died by then. This thought made her chuckle. I’ve no intention of dying just yet. I’ve too much damage to do, and I have to help Diedre find her enemy and make her problem go away.
Daphne sat at her desk in the conservatory, a room which had become her own over the years. No one else ever used it. She was making a last-minute check of the guest list for the engagement dinner that evening, and contemplating the placement of everyone at the two dinner tables.
Nodding her head, deciding that it could not be improved on, she sat back in the chair, sighing to herself, finally relaxing. It had been an extremely busy day, and she was relieved she had asked her father to cancel afternoon tea. The staff were overburdened as it was, and Hanson was all for it. Fortunately, her father had understood.
At the sound of footsteps on the terracotta-tiled floor, she turned around in her chair; her face lit up when she saw Peggy Swift coming towards her, carrying a tea tray. She was Peggy Lane now, having married Gordon Lane after the war, and was the mother of a little girl who was called Daphne, named for her.
‘I thought you might be in need of a nice cup of tea, Lady Daphne,’ Peggy said, placing the tray on the table next to the sofa. ‘You haven’t stopped for a minute today, so Hanson tells me.’
‘It has been busy, Peggy, and by the way, I must thank you for stepping into the breach this afternoon, coming in to help out. We really needed you. How is Mrs Thwaites?’
‘She’s all right, m’lady. Resting in her room. Hanson told me it’s not the first time she’s fainted lately. It’s happened before. She’s very dedicated to her job. Hanson says it’s probably just tiredness, nothing serious. But he’s told her she must go to the doctor on Monday.’
Standing up, Daphne walked over to the sofa. ‘I’m glad Hanson insisted on that. She’s not getting any younger, I’m afraid.’
‘Neither is Hanson, m’lady.’
Daphne glanced at her quickly. ‘Have you noticed something I haven’t, Peggy?’ she asked, worry creeping into her voice.
‘No, no, just making a casual comment, Your Ladyship. By the way, I’ve tried twice now to get hold of Olive Wilson, but there’s still no reply at Lady Felicity’s house – I mean Mrs Pierce’s house.’
‘Thank you, Peggy. Please try the number again later.’ Then Daphne’s blonde brows drew together in a frown, and she added, ‘Actually, I’m not sure there’s anyone at the house. My mother usually goes to Monte Carlo in the summer.’
‘I’ll try again, anyway,’ Peggy murmured. ‘Shall I pour you a cup of tea, Lady Daphne?’
‘Thank you, Peggy.’
‘Surely they’d have one staff member there, don’t you think, m’lady?’