Читать книгу Cavendon Hall - Barbara Bradford Taylor - Страница 18

Lady Gwendolyn Ingham Baildon stood in the centre of the great entrance foyer at Cavendon Hall, glancing around, a beatific smile on her face. She had been in London for the past week, and this was her first visit since her return to Yorkshire two days ago.

To her, Cavendon was the most sublime place. There was nowhere else like it, and only here did she experience a feeling of euphoria, a sense of genuine happiness and contentment. So many memories, so many emotions were wrapped up in this house; her entire life had been spent here.

The smile lingered as her eyes rested on the oil paintings of her ancestors, which lined the wall above the grand curving staircase. Looking down at her were her parents. Her beautiful mother, Florence, wife of Marmaduke, the 4th Earl, her father. Next to her father was a striking portrait of her brother, David, the handsomest of men. He had been the 5th Earl, and next to him was a lovely oil painting of his wife, Constance, who had died far too young. She sighed to herself. Her own husband, Paul Baildon, had died young; she had been a widow for a very long time.

Turning away, Lady Gwendolyn walked across the hall in the direction of the small, yellow sitting room, where afternoon tea had been served for years.

Gwendolyn had been born in this house seventy-two years ago, and brought up here with David and their sister Evelyne. She knew every nook, cranny, corner and secret hiding place. In fact, there wasn’t much she didn’t know about Cavendon and the Ingham family. Well, that was not exactly true. She was ignorant about any number of things, as was her nephew Charles.

A small, amused smile struck her face fleetingly. Only the Swanns knew everything, and what they knew had been passed down from one generation to the next. There were notebooks filled with endless records, so she had been told once, and this information had come from the best source – a Swann, no less.

Ah well, Gwendolyn said under her breath, what would we have done without the Swanns? And they’re on our side, thank God, stand sentinel beside us. She would trust a Swann with her life if she had to.

Her nephew was the only occupant of the yellow sitting room, and he jumped up, came towards her once he saw her appear in the doorway.

After kissing her cheek, he said, ‘It’s lovely to see you back at Cavendon, Aunt Gwendolyn.’

‘Thank you, Charles, I feel the same.’ She glanced around. ‘Am I the first?’

‘Yes, actually, you are. I’m afraid our ranks are a bit diminished today. Felicity is still in Harrogate, visiting Anne, and Diedre accompanied her. But DeLacy will be joining us.’

At that moment Hanson glided into the room and, after greeting Lady Gwendolyn, he addressed the Earl. ‘Do you wish tea to be served immediately, m’lord?’

‘Yes, Hanson, thank you. But perhaps you could send a message to Lady DeLacy to come down.’

‘I took the liberty of doing that a short while ago, my lord.’

Charles nodded. ‘Thank you, Hanson. Very astute of you. I’m afraid punctuality is not her strong suit.’

As Hanson left the room, Gwendolyn said, ‘Isn’t Daphne joining us as well, Charles?’

‘I don’t think so. Apparently she has been busy with dress fittings for most of the day, and feels tired. She has asked to be excused.’

‘Sorry I’m late, Papa!’ DeLacy cried as she came racing into the room, a bright smile on her face. She ran over to her great-aunt, kissed her on the cheek, and then went to kiss her father.

‘You are coming to the supper dances and the big ball, aren’t you, Great-Aunt Gwendolyn?’ DeLacy asked, a moment later, sitting down next to her. ‘It’s never the same when you’re not present.’

‘How nice of you to say so, Lacy, and of course I plan to come, my dear. I’ve always thought the entertaining we do at Cavendon at that time of year, in the summer months, was the best, the most fun.’ Leaning slightly closer, she said in a low voice, ‘Please do try to avoid sky blue this season, darling. The obvious is rather boring, you know?’

DeLacy stared at her, saw the amusement flickering in the deep-blue eyes, and began to giggle. ‘I will certainly do that,’ she answered, still laughing, and then glanced at the door as the two footmen came in, both pushing laden tea trolleys, followed closely by Hanson, as always present to make sure nothing was amiss or went wrong.

As they went through the ritual of afternoon tea, Charles silently debated whether or not to tell his aunt that Hugo was about to make a visit. In the end, he decided he must do so. He preferred not to spring it on her at the last minute. But he would certainly avoid mentioning anything about property and Little Skell Manor.

After DeLacy insisted he try a piece of the Victoria sponge, Charles tasted it, and then put it down. Looking across at his aunt, he said, ‘I had a letter from Switzerland today. And you’ll never guess who it was from.’

Lady Gwendolyn threw him a puzzled look. ‘No, I’m afraid I won’t … I don’t know anyone who lives in Switzerland.’

A smile touched his mouth, and was gone. ‘It was from Hugo Stanton,’ he said in a level voice, wondering how she would react to this news.

‘Goodness gracious me!’ Lady Gwendolyn exclaimed. ‘Hugo Stanton, of all people, and after these many years of silence.’ She frowned, and peered at Charles. ‘I thought he was sent to live in America?’ A brow lifted.

‘He was—’

‘Quite the wrong move in my considered opinion,’ Lady Gwendolyn cut in. ‘Very rash.’

‘He was rather successful there, apparently, according to his letter, Aunt. He did well in business, and married well. However, sadly his wife died last year. From what I gather, they had been living in Zurich for several years.’

‘I see,’ Lady Gwendolyn observed noncommittally, and took a sip of her tea.

Charles continued, ‘In any event, Hugo wrote to tell me he has to come to London on business, and he asked me if he could come here for a visit. I suppose he was wondering if he would be made to feel welcome.’

There was a short silence, then Lady Gwendolyn said, ‘Of course he would be welcome as far as I’m concerned. I always liked Hugo, and I never believed for one moment that he had anything to do with his brother’s death. Stuff and nonsense that was.’

‘I couldn’t agree more.’

‘When is he coming?’ she asked.

‘Oh in the summer. I thought perhaps June or July. I’ll suggest that when I reply.’

‘And I shall look forward to seeing him again,’ Lady Gwendolyn announced with a warm smile.

Charles nodded, and decided to say nothing further. Why bring up Little Skell Manor or property, and who owned what at this stage? ‘And so shall I,’ Charles agreed amiably, and took a bite of his cake. ‘He will always be welcome at Cavendon.’

A few minutes later, DeLacy cried, ‘Mama! Diedre! You’re back early, and just in time for tea.’

The Earl glanced at the door, appearing to be as startled as DeLacy had sounded. He immediately rose, and walked across the floor to greet his wife and eldest daughter.

As he escorted them into the room, he asked Felicity, ‘I hope you had a lovely visit with Anne, my dear.’

‘Yes, we did,’ Felicity answered softly, trying to keep her voice steady, her expression neutral, not wishing to display any of her flaring emotions.

Diedre said, ‘Hello, Great-Aunt Gwendolyn,’ and went to kiss her.

Felicity followed suit, and touched DeLacy lightly on her shoulder as she passed by. Then she took a seat in a chair opposite them.

Hanson, as usual ever ready, appeared with a footman in tow, who proceeded to pour tea for the Countess and Diedre. And the ritual of afternoon tea began all over again.

Moving slightly on the sofa, Lady Gwendolyn focused on her niece-in-law, thinking once again that she looked slightly on edge. Felicity’s face was taut, and she was instantly aware of the sorrowful look in her light green eyes. Something’s wrong, Gwendolyn thought. Terribly wrong. I’m looking at a troubled woman, beleaguered by worries. What’s going on with her? She appears to be more nervous than ever.