Читать книгу Cavendon Hall - Barbara Bradford Taylor - Страница 14

Daphne 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 by the way she looked in the blue-and-green beaded dress, that slender column glittering with sea colours, 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 marvellous 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 endeavoured to keep a straight face. In stark contrast to her own lack of interest in her clothes, her baby sister had been concerned with hers 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 far 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 blonde 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 demeanour 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 said, looking up at her adored Daphne, her favourite 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 the little girl, 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 might 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 favourite.’

‘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 blonde 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 was 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.