Читать книгу Secrets of Cavendon: A gripping historical saga full of intrigue and drama - Barbara Taylor Bradford - Страница 13

Cecily stood at the bottom of the grand staircase, listening. In the distance she could hear footsteps, and she knew immediately who was coming along the corridor to the front hall. It was the slightly uneven step that told her it was Charlie.

Moving into the hall, she stood waiting for him; suddenly he was visible as he left the corridor and walked into the hall. He waved. She waved back. He had always been her favourite of Miles’s nephews and nieces when he was a child; after he was wounded in the war and tragically had to have a leg amputated, her heart had gone out to him.

And yet she had known that he would handle his disability well, and he had. He used a walking stick for proper balance, but few people realized he had lost a leg. His limp was almost imperceptible; he stood tall, and at thirty-two was a good-looking man.

When he stopped next to her, she put her arms around him and gave him a huge hug. They were both smiling when they stepped away from each other. There had always been a special bond between them, and they had often relied on each other for many things over the years.

‘I’m sorry we arrived so late last night,’ Charlie apologized. ‘All my fault. I was on a special story, and it just took longer, was more complex, than I’d realized.’

‘No problem,’ Cecily replied. ‘I’m glad you and Alicia are staying until Monday, and I understand from Paloma that your books are doing well. Congratulations. And thank you for sharing them with us. Your contributions do help to pay some of the staff in the shops.’

He grinned. ‘Our pleasure. And I must say, I am rather chuffed that my little history of the Inghams and the Swanns is sold out. Who’d have thought it, eh?’

‘I knew the history book would work. It’s a very well-told story, rather intriguing. Like a novel, in a certain sense.’

‘Thank you, Aunt Ceci, and listen, I’m so sorry about Mama. Alicia and I were really upset that she blamed you for what she calls “the commercialization of Cavendon”. We know she loves you, and deep down she is probably very appreciative of everything you’ve done over the years, to save the estate and the family. We believe she’s just worn out. We do hope you can forgive her one day. You can, can’t you?’

Cecily linked her arm through his, and said, ‘I’ve already forgiven her. Daphne has put her heart and soul into this house, and she’ll come back refreshed, her old self. Now, let’s go to the library for a few minutes. It’s a bit early for lunch.’

Within moments they were sitting together on a sofa near the fire, which burned year round because this room was always icy cold.

Cecily said, ‘I understand from Eric that Bryan didn’t come with you after all.’

Charlie nodded as he leaned back against the cushions, stretching out his artificial leg. ‘He had to beg off. His father is sick, and he felt he had to go to Brighton to sort things out. Bryan’s mother is dead, as I’m sure you know, and I don’t think Bryan’s younger brother is all that good about taking care of their father.’

‘I understand. I like Bryan. He’s an awfully nice man and such a good actor.’ She laughed. ‘I rather thought we might be getting yet another actor in the family, actually. Alicia and he seem like a good fit. What do you think? Is Alicia finally going to tie the knot?’

‘I hope they make it permanent. He’s a fine chap—’

‘Hello, Aunt Ceci!’ Alicia exclaimed as she floated into the room, looking lovely in a summer frock of checked lilac and purple cotton, which Cecily had given her last year.

‘I’m so glad you both came up,’ Cecily replied, smiling at her niece.

‘About our mother,’ Alicia began, and then stopped abruptly when she saw Charlie shaking his head, warning her off.

Looking at his sister, Charlie said, ‘I’ve already apologized to Aunt Cecily, and she fully understands about Mother being exhausted, Alicia. There’s no problem here.’

‘There certainly isn’t!’ Cecily exclaimed. ‘I know Daphne will come back, sooner than we think, and everything will be back to normal. Cavendon is her home, and Hugo’s and yours. This is where you all belong.’

‘Goodness me, am I late?’ Aunt Charlotte asked from the doorway, walking in, coming to join them near the fireplace.

‘I think we were a bit early,’ Charlie replied, standing up to greet the Dowager Countess. He went over to Charlotte, escorted her into the room; Alicia joined him, welcoming her as well.

They all sat together talking for a few minutes, when Charlie suddenly focused on Cecily and asked quietly, ‘Isn’t Greta here? I thought she was coming to see you this weekend?’

‘She is at Cavendon, yes, Charlie. She and Dottie are here for a meeting about changes we’re planning in my business. But my mother invited them both to lunch.’ Greta’s half-sister, Elise, was best friends with Victoria, the young girl who had been taken in as an evacuee by Walter and Alice Swann when she was ten years old. Now almost twenty-one, Victoria was working as a photographer in London.

Poor Greta. She was going to get quite a grilling about how Victoria was doing in the big city.

A faint smile played around Cecily’s mouth, then she laughed, as she added, ‘As you well know, my mother is forever wanting news of her little evacuee, whom she and my father love very much. She’s like a second daughter to them. Mam’s missed her since she moved down to London.’

‘I’ve no doubt Greta is getting quizzed at this very moment. I know how Mrs Alice feels,’ Charlie answered. ‘But she has nothing to worry about. Victoria is doing well, and because Elise works in the reporter’s room at my place, I get constant updates about her friend all the time.’ The mischievous grin he was well known for suddenly surfaced. ‘Surely you must realize by now that both girls treat me like their big brother.’

‘More like their great hero,’ Cecily shot back, knowing how the two young women felt about Charlie. They were in awe of him, almost worshipful.

‘You know, Aunt Ceci, the next time you want to have some of your clothes photographed, you ought to try Victoria,’ Charlie said. ‘I’ve seen some of her pictures and she’s extremely talented. I know she’s still young, but Paloma is very proud of Victoria’s talent, which she helped to nurture. She thinks she will go far.’

‘That’s a very good thought. I’ll keep it in mind.’

At this moment the door opened again and Eric entered the library. Looking at Cecily, he said, ‘Lunch is served, Lady Mowbray. His Lordship is waiting for you in the dining room.’

It was one of those lunches where everyone was friendly, warm and chatting to each other continually. Obviously, they were happy to be with family.

Charlotte sat at the right of Miles, and was engaged in a long conversation with David, his eldest, while Miles was questioning Alicia about her new film, due to start soon.

Walter and Venetia were focused on Charlie, wanting to know what it was like to work on a newspaper, asking questions. And Gwen was taking every ounce of Cecily’s attention.

‘Can I help you design the clothes?’ the eight-year-old was begging her mother. ‘You said I was very good at sketching.’

‘Yes, you are, my darling,’ Cecily replied, not wanting to discourage her youngest child, who was indeed talented when it came to drawing. ‘I shall be starting the new collection soon. You can help me to do my research.’

Gwen gazed up at her mother, a smile of adoration flooding her face. ‘Oooh,’ she sighed, ‘thank you, Mummy. What will I research with you?’

‘The gardens – the ones designed by Uncle Harry. That’s going to be my theme for the collection of 1950.’

‘A garden collection,’ Gwen said.

Cecily stared at her intently, and then laughed. ‘Why, of course it will be a garden collection. I shall call it Autumn Garden. You see, you’ve helped me already, Gwen.’

Deep within the inner recesses of her mind, Cecily knew that Miles would be angry with her when she gave him the bad news. Not because she didn’t have the money to give him for the estate taxes, or because her business was in trouble. He would be angry because she hadn’t confided in him earlier, shared her worries.

Miles expected her to tell him everything. He had been that way since their childhood, wanting every piece of her, every little bit, every thought, every feeling. Even when they were apart, after his unhappy marriage to Clarissa, she was aware he was still involved with her emotionally, in love with her. She knew because everyone told her he asked questions about her constantly. ‘He’s very possessive of you,’ her brother had once told her. ‘He’d control your life from a distance if that were at all possible.’

At the time she had not been impressed. In fact, she had been angry, disdainful of Miles when answering Harry. And she had made sure she never ran into Miles at Cavendon, or anywhere else for that matter. She believed he would want her as his mistress if she so much as gave him a half smile.

Now she looked down the table at him, staring at him with intensity. He noticed her fixed scrutiny as he turned away from Alicia and picked up his glass of water.

He smiled at her, love suffusing his face.

She smiled back.

Their eyes locked and for a moment neither could look away from the other.

It was always like that between them … They had their quarrels and disagreements, and sometimes became angry with each other, but their little spats were over in a very short time, and about nothing of great importance, in actuality.

What she had to tell him was important. She decided to take a wholly different approach, and she would do it tonight. After dinner, they usually had a little quiet time together in their upstairs sitting room before they went to bed. Her thoughts continued to turn about this matter through the latter part of the lunch, and by the time it was over she was fully prepared, everything in place in her mind. She was armed and ready to deal with him.

Once everyone had left the table, and gone off to do other things, Cecily went downstairs to the kitchen, heading for Eric’s office. She found him behind his desk, and he jumped up at once, welcomed her, pulled out the chair so she could sit down.

‘Thank you for the notes about the wine cellar and the stock, Eric,’ Cecily began. ‘I am going to mention the possibility of an auction, in passing, to Miles tonight. However, Aunt Charlotte will take it up with him later in more detail. Along with several other things.’

‘Perhaps she should be the one to mention the idea of paying guests during the grouse season,’ Eric suggested, throwing Cecily a quizzical look. ‘I did ask Percy if he could make a few enquiries and find out which aristocratic families are inviting Guns who pay for the privilege of shooting at a stately home.’

‘That was a good move, and knowing that others are doing it would perhaps influence Miles.’

Eric said, ‘About the wooden box up in the main attic, m’lady. I took the liberty of opening it, and bringing down the contents. They are paintings which belonged to Lady DeLacy, from her flat in London. I took them to Lady Diedre’s old room and stacked them in there.’

‘Thank you very much, Eric.’ She gave him a small smile, which faltered, then added, ‘It was thoughtful of you not to take them to Lady DeLacy’s room …’ She broke off, blinking back unexpected tears, swallowing hard, pushing back a sudden rush of emotion.

‘It struck me that having them there would have been too much for you to bear … a neutral room seemed the best under the circumstances,’ Eric explained. He knew how close they had been, understood it might be painful.

‘Some are by Travers Merton, aren’t they?’

‘Yes, and very beautiful.’ Eric unlocked the top drawer of his desk, and took out an envelope, handing it to her across the desk. ‘This is the key for the new steamer trunk you bought. Actually, there are two keys, m’lady, and you should put both of them in your private safe in your bedroom. Better they’re locked up.’

‘I will do that. Aunt Charlotte kept the Swann record books under lock and key all her life, and I must do the same. And thank you again for helping me to fit so many notebooks into the trunk. It was quite a task.’

‘And an amazing record of the Swann family, and the Inghams, and things that happened to them over the centuries. Full of secrets, too, I’ve no doubt.’

If only you knew, Cecily thought, you’d never believe it. But she remained silent. After a moment, she went on, ‘Now that Lady Daphne has gone to Zurich for an indefinite period, I think Ted can relax a little, concentrate on repairs more than redecorating, Eric.’

‘I agree. By the way, the bedrooms not in use have all been closed. I’ve put dustsheets over the antiques in the North and East Wings, attics as well. But obviously the South Wing is open. Even though Lady Daphne and Mr Hugo are away, I’m sure their wing should be open. After all, their children will keep coming up for weekends.’

‘Two are already here,’ Cecily answered. ‘And quite right, Eric, the South Wing has always been Lady Daphne’s home since she married Mr Hugo, and their children grew up there. We must welcome them always.’

After discussing the menus, wines and activities for the next few days, Cecily left Eric to go about his duties. She took the back staircase up to the bedroom floor, and walked along the corridor to Diedre’s bedroom, not used since Diedre had moved to Skelldale House with her husband Will Lawson and her son Robin. Cecily was due to have a cup of tea with Aunt Charlotte but had taken a quick diversion.

She hesitated for a moment before going in, and then took a deep breath and did so. Eric had arranged the paintings around the room, propped up against chairs, the desk, and a chest of drawers. Several had been placed on a sheet on top of the bed.

The one which instantly caught her eye was the portrait of DeLacy which Travers had painted years ago, commissioned by Lawrence Pierce to give to DeLacy’s mother one Christmas before the war.

It leaned against the legs of a chair, and Cecily went to it immediately, picked it up and placed it on the chair.

She stepped back to view the painting, and her heart missed a beat. She caught her breath in surprise. It was so lifelike; it seemed as if DeLacy were sitting right there in front of her. The painting was magnificent. Travers had captured something unique in DeLacy, a delicate beauty, a certain fragility, and yet her bright blue eyes sparkled with life and energy.

This painting of DeLacy had hung in the former Countess’s sitting room in her house in London. After her death, the Four Dees had not taken very many of their mother’s possessions, since they were all estranged from her.

Now Cecily remembered how DeLacy had asked her sisters if she could have the painting of herself. It was one of the last paintings ever executed by Travers Merton, and of course, they had said she could.

Cecily felt a cold chill running through her and shivered involuntarily. Goose flesh sprang up on the back of her neck and her arms; memories of that horrendous night were suddenly at the front of her mind.

The night Travers had died in his studio, with DeLacy beside him in his bed. Not understanding at first that he was dead, she had called Cecily for help. Cecily, in turn, had phoned Eric. They had gone together to rescue her from the scene, recognizing from DeLacy’s hysterics that something was wrong.

They had been flummoxed, not known what to do. Finally they had phoned Uncle Howard at Scotland Yard, who had come to their rescue, taken the matter into his hands, and dealt with the problem.

For a few moments, Cecily was totally mesmerized by the painting, and then she went over to the chair, picked it up and took it down the corridor to their upstairs sitting room.

Last night she had mentioned the large box of paintings in the attic to Miles. In their pain and misery after DeLacy’s death in the war, Miles and Cecily had been far too beleaguered and grief-stricken to even think about her possessions, most of which had been brought from DeLacy’s flat in Mayfair and stored in the attic at Cavendon. Where they had remained untouched, until now.

Once Cecily was in the sitting room, she moved a large blue and white vase from a chest, and put DeLacy’s portrait in its place. Then she took several books, and placed them in front of the painting to stop it from sliding.

There you are, my darling Lacy, she said under her breath. Now I can see your face every day for the rest of my life, my lovely.