Читать книгу The Cavendon Women - Barbara Bradford Taylor - Страница 12

There was no doubt in Daphne’s mind that the moment her father had seen the empty cases, he had known at once who had taken the jewels. But he had waited for her to make that very obvious connection.

Daphne sat back in the chair in the conservatory, thinking about her mother, a woman who had changed so drastically she seemed like a stranger. Daphne blamed Lawrence Pierce. It was his fault. He had been a bad influence on Felicity, and no doubt he still was.

She sighed to herself. There was nothing much any of them could do about their mother. She was married to Pierce and, seemingly, he ruled the roost, as Miles so aptly put it. Her mother had created a scandal when she had run off to be with the surgeon in London. But somehow her father and the family had managed to weather it all, and their standing was still intact. Anyway, almost every family they knew were having some problem or other, whether marital or financial.

It seemed almost inconceivable to her that their mother had just pocketed the jewellery, as if it were her own, and gone off to London to join her lover, without giving it another thought. Not about the jewellery she was taking, which was not hers to take. Or the children she was leaving behind. That had happened twelve years ago.

Little Dulcie had been only six, and baby Alicia, her mother’s only grandchild, was not even one year old.

But Felicity’s children had managed. They had not only had each other, they had had their extraordinary father, a very loving man, who was the personification of decency.

And she herself had also had her darling Hugo, and their first child. And all the Swanns. Whatever would they have done without the Swanns? Most especially Charlotte.

Normally, Daphne would have run straight to Charlotte today, to tell her about the missing jewels and ask for her help. But she could not do that. Charlotte had her hands full, and she didn’t need this worry to cope with.

Closing her eyes, Daphne wondered what she could do. She had told her father she had a plan, but she didn’t really. Her only thought was to go to London to confront Felicity.

But her mother would deny having the jewels, wouldn’t she? Obviously that would be Felicity’s only course. And how could Daphne prove otherwise, without ransacking her mother’s house? That wasn’t a possibility, under any circumstance. She did have an ally, as she had told her father. That at least was the truth. But just how much could that ally do?

What she really needed was a reason to invite herself to tea with her mother. But it would have to be a genuinely good reason, because they had all shunned her, off and on, over the years.

‘There you are, my darling,’ Hugo said, interrupting her whirling thoughts as he came striding into the conservatory, at forty-five as handsome as ever. Daphne swung around in her chair, beamed at him.

Bending forward, her husband kissed her on the cheek, and sat down. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you,’ he said. ‘Good news from New York to impart at last! I just heard from Paul Drummond, and he’s finally managed to sell those old factory lofts I bought in downtown Manhattan, near the meatpacking district. And for an excellent price. The money can be put to good use here at Cavendon.’

‘Oh, that’s wonderful news, Hugo!’ Daphne exclaimed, her eyes filling with love for him. He was doing his best to help keep Cavendon afloat, which was drowning in taxes and other problems. She and Hugo stood right behind her father, helping to prop everything up. She was very happy that the strained look had left his face this afternoon.

She now said, ‘Papa will be grateful, and so am I. You do so much, we can never thank you enough.’ She paused for a moment, and then added softly, ‘It will certainly give Papa a lift. He discovered something quite awful today.’

‘What on earth happened?’ Hugo asked, leaning closer. There was a certain kind of disquiet about her, which was not like her at all. She was usually ebullient and positive, whatever problems she faced.

‘Papa went down to the big vault, to get something or other out, and he discovered there were quite a few pieces of jewellery missing. Obviously, he knew at once that my mother had taken them—’

‘Who else?’ Hugo interrupted in a terse voice. ‘Only a Countess of Mowbray knows the hiding place for the key. If I remember correctly, those are the ancient rules followed by the Inghams for generations.’

‘Yes. And the butler always knows where the key is too. But I can assure you, Hanson hasn’t stolen diamond earrings to give to his lady love.’

‘Does he have one?’ Hugo asked, and couldn’t help laughing, despite the gravity of the matter.

Daphne laughed with him, and then went on, ‘I told Papa not to worry about the missing pieces; that whilst he was away I would get them back.’

‘And how do you plan to do that?’ Hugo asked, a brow lifting. ‘Are you going to take Felicity on, and demand their return?’ He shook his head, before saying, in a low tone, ‘You know, you would be accusing her of stealing, since they are actually the property of the Earl of Mowbray, her former husband. I don’t think your mother will take very kindly to that sort of accusation, my darling.’

‘You’re absolutely right, Hugo, she won’t, I’m well aware of that. But I must confront her. I’ve no alternative. And I do have an ally.’

‘Ally or not, I shall come with you to London. I’ll certainly not allow you to go alone under the circumstances. Not to Felicity’s house. Lawrence Pierce may well be there and I don’t want you to end up doing battle with him.’ His glance was long and speculative. ‘And who is your ally, may I ask?’

‘I will tell you, Hugo, but it is in confidence. I didn’t say who it is to Papa.’

‘I shall not tell a single soul, I promise.’

‘It’s Wilson.’

A knowing look crossed Hugo’s face, and he nodded. ‘Of course it’s Wilson. Olive has a very soft spot for you. She always has, and I don’t believe your mother is her favourite at the present time. On the other hand, your mother pays her extremely well, so why would she jeopardize her job?’

‘Because soon she’ll be working for me, as my lady’s maid. In a few months. She finds the situation untenable at Charles Street, and confided in me that she was going to give Mama her notice. And she has. She told Mama she wanted to retire. Felicity made a fuss, didn’t want to let her go, but Olive was adamant, very determined. The point is, when she confided in me, I asked her to come to Cavendon as soon as she was available.’

‘I see,’ Hugo murmured, and sat back in his chair, wondering what Wilson’s wages would be.

As if reading his mind, Daphne swiftly said, ‘You mustn’t worry about the cost, Hugo. I shall pay Wilson myself. I have my trust, and I plan to use some of that to pay her salary.’

‘When does Wilson plan to retire, so to speak? And then come here?’ he asked, thinking that Felicity would not like this turn of events.

‘Not until September. So there’s plenty of time to deal with my mother regarding the jewels.’

‘Whatever your mother says, I know that Wilson will tell you the truth. That is why you’re calling her your ally, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, Hugo. Wilson helps my mother to dress every day. She’s in charge of her clothes, and, presumably, her jewels.’ She stared at him, and added quickly, ‘I know that look on your face, Hugo. You think Wilson should’ve told me before … about the jewels. But you see, Olive Wilson doesn’t know that they’re not Mama’s, not her own personal possessions.’

‘She has no idea they’re family heirlooms?’ he asked, sounding sceptical.

‘How could she? My grandfather was a wealthy industrialist, and I’m quite sure Wilson thinks my mother’s jewels were given to her by him. Or by my father. There’s no way she would know that the jewels Mama wears must remain in the care of the current Earl, that they aren’t actually hers to keep, only on loan.’

‘You make sense, darling,’ Hugo murmured, and stood up. ‘I’d better go back to the annexe for a short while, I’ll see you at teatime.’

‘Oh no, no, Hugo, you must come to the little gathering Papa is having in the library, at three thirty. Just the girls, Miles and you. I know your presence is important to him. You haven’t forgotten, have you?’

‘It did slip my mind, but I shall be there,’ he answered, going over to kiss her cheek.

She moved her head slightly, and, as he bent forward, her face was bathed in the sunlight streaming in through the window. He was instantly struck by her loveliness this afternoon. At thirty, Daphne was at the height of her beauty. Thirteen years, he thought. It didn’t seem possible that they had been married almost that long.

As his lips brushed her cheek, and he squeezed her shoulder affectionately, he thought of their children. Genevra’s prediction had come true … the gypsy girl had foretold that Daphne would bear five children. And she had. They were Inghams through and through, beautiful girls and handsome boys. He loved them dearly and spoiled them atrociously. But why not? Along with Daphne, they were his life.

Walking back to the annexe, Hugo’s thoughts were still with Daphne. What a truly wonderful woman she had become over the years; she had helped her father run Cavendon, and done it well. He smiled inwardly, when he pictured his wife being ‘the general in charge’, as she called herself. Some general, indeed. She was still beautiful, glamorous really, with her abundant golden hair a soft halo around her lovely face. No chic 1920s crop for her; and those glorious eyes were as blue as ever, her skin clear and perfect. I’ve been lucky, so very lucky, he reminded himself. We both have good health and we’re still in love. Miraculous.