Читать книгу Secrets of Cavendon: A gripping historical saga full of intrigue and drama - Barbara Taylor Bradford - Страница 15

The happiness of the evening was still with her, wrapped around her like a soft silk shawl, and she felt better than she had in a very long time. She had a sense of peace, of quiet contentment.

As Cecily undressed and got ready for bed, she knew this feeling of joy stemmed from the presence of Charlie and Alicia at dinner, and Greta had added much to the evening’s enjoyment as well. She and her assistant were as close as ever.

As he had done at lunchtime, Charlie made them laugh with his stories and comments about his life as a newspaperman; Alicia was her charming and loving self, and the two of them brought the true meaning of family to the table. Aunt Dottie was staying with Cecily’s parents, Alice and Walter, in Little Skell.

Even Miles, often so dour these days, had smiled and chuckled and joined in the fun.

What was so important about the evening was the way Daphne’s tirade of last week had disappeared, just gone away. No one mentioned her, and they were the happy clan again, united in all things, at ease with each other.

As Cecily slipped on her silk dressing gown, and crossed the bedroom floor, she braced herself. She had promised Aunt Charlotte she would tell Miles about her troubles tonight, and there was no way out. She must do it.

Their upstairs sitting room was empty when she went in, and she walked over to the chest upon which she had propped up the painting of DeLacy earlier, stood gazing at it. A moment later, Miles came out of his dressing room and joined her.

‘Isn’t it beautiful, darling?’ he said, glancing at her after staring at the portrait of his sister for a few seconds. ‘How could we have forgotten about it?’

Turning to face him, Cecily said, ‘I never really forgot it, Miles. I knew very well where it was, since I put the box up there in the attic when DeLacy’s possessions arrived years ago.’ Her face changed, and she sighed. ‘I simply couldn’t bear to bring it out, not then, so soon after she had been killed. And I thought you would feel the same.’

Miles nodded. ‘I did, and I understand. It was a terrible time for all of us.’ He paused, took a sip of cognac. ‘But why now? What made you finally bring it down?’ As he spoke he walked over to the sofa and sat down.

Cecily gave the painting a lingering glance and joined him. ‘I bought a new steamer trunk, a big one to hold the Swann record books,’ she explained. ‘And Eric noticed the large box which contained DeLacy’s portrait and others by Travers Merton. I suddenly understood that now was the right time. So I told him to bring it down to the bedroom floor. Being sensitive to our feelings, Eric put them in Diedre’s old room, rather than DeLacy’s. I brought the portrait out earlier, and I’m glad I did.’

‘So am I.’ He smiled at her, and changed the subject. ‘It was a nice evening. I was happy to see Charlie and Alicia still in such good form. Incidentally, I’d like to take a look at the other paintings by Travers. Why don’t we do that tomorrow?’

There was a moment of silence. Taking a deep breath, Cecily said, ‘I can’t tomorrow, I’m afraid. You see—’

‘But we always spend Saturday together,’ he cut in, sounding put out.

‘Yes, I know. However, I need to meet with Aunt Dottie and Greta to discuss a few more of my business plans. Greta is staying on until Monday. In fact, they both are.’

‘Oh, I see. I suppose you do have a bit of planning to do, now that you will be in Yorkshire most of the time.’

‘Yes, I also have a lot of problem-solving to do. Anyway, Aunt Charlotte would like to speak to you tomorrow morning, Miles. She asked me to tell you she’ll be available any time it’s convenient for you.’

‘Aunt Charlotte?’ He frowned. ‘Is there something wrong? Do you know what it is about?’

‘I do. She wants you to meet the managing director of her bank in Harrogate on Monday. To arrange a loan for you. She will be your guarantor.’

Miles stared at her nonplussed, frowning. ‘A loan? Whatever for?’

‘The government taxes, Miles. They’ll be due soon.’

Once again he gaped at her, surprise and puzzlement still filling his face. ‘But you always give me the tax money …’ he began, and then his voice trailed off when he saw how serious her expression was.

‘I don’t have the money to give you, I’m afraid. I have a lot of business problems, which is why Aunt Charlotte has now stepped in.’

‘I can’t borrow money from a bank! The whole world will soon know the Inghams are in trouble!’ he exclaimed, his voice rising.

‘But everyone knows that already, Miles. All the aristocratic families have been in trouble financially since the end of the war. Because of the tax increases and lack of men on the land. It’s not a secret.’

‘Why didn’t you confide in me?’ he demanded, anger echoing in his voice. He glared at her. ‘We share. Always.’

‘I didn’t want to worry you. I believe I can solve my business problems by selling the two factories in Leeds, finding smaller offices in London, closing one of the shops in the Burlington Arcade, and dropping the ready-made clothing line. Greta wants to buy in as a partner, and also, Aunt Charlotte will give me half the money to pay off my bank debts … She explained I am her main heir, and it’s part of the money she would be leaving me in her will anyway.’

There was total silence in the room.

As she looked at Miles, Cecily noticed his face was as white as bleached bone and there was a look in his eyes she couldn’t read. Anger? Bafflement? Bewilderment? Shock, she decided. He was in shock.

He said suddenly, ‘Well, it seems the Swanns have been very busy these last few days, doesn’t it?’

Startled by those words, infuriated by them, Cecily snapped back, ‘More like a couple of hundred years, wouldn’t you say? And where would the Inghams have been without the Swanns?’

Standing up, she walked over to the fireplace, and stood there, appreciating the warmth coming from the dying embers. ‘We’ve looked out for the Inghams for centuries,’ she announced in a cold voice.

Miles was furious with himself. He had made a silly remark, and she had taken umbrage. Of course she had. It was a rotten remark, and totally uncalled for.

Before he could apologize and say something nice to her, Cecily spoke. ‘You might as well know that a few other Swanns have come up with some ideas that might help us out. Uncle Howard recently read in The Times that Lord Overshed auctioned off his wine cellar, or rather the contents thereof, and made money. Mind you, a lot of wine had gone off. I told Eric to check the wine logbooks started by Hanson, and which he has continued to keep. A wine auction might produce money.’

‘I see,’ Miles said, now determined to watch his words, not wanting to upset her further.

‘And I ran into Percy the other day. We talked about the grouse moor. He told me that many aristocratic families with shoots are actually taking paying guests during the grouse season. Mostly American tycoons.’

‘I don’t quite know how that would work, here at Cavendon, I mean.’ Miles took a long swallow of the cognac, and put the glass down on the small table.

After a moment he said quietly, ‘You’ve given me a lot to think about, Cecily. I will consider your suggestions. And I haven’t forgotten the one about charging rent.’

‘And will you have a meeting with Aunt Charlotte tomorrow?’ she asked, keeping her voice soft.

‘Of course. I’ll listen to what she has to say, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll take a bank loan.’

He let out a long sigh, and stood up, walked over to the fireplace, kissed her on the cheek. ‘Why don’t you go to bed? It’s been such a long day for you. I’ll join you shortly, I have quite a lot to mull over, and I do need to have a quiet think alone.’

‘I am a bit tired,’ she admitted, and touched his arm lightly. ‘Don’t stay up too late, Miles. And tomorrow afternoon we can look at the other paintings in Diedre’s room,’ she promised, by way of a peace offering.

Cecily found she was unable to fall asleep. She was very tired, just as Miles had suggested, but her brain would not stop working.

His remarks about the Swanns had infuriated her, but within herself she realized it was just a thoughtless, throw-away line. He had not meant to hurt. He knew only too well how much the Swanns had done for the Inghams. And what she herself had contributed to the welfare of the family. She had saved them several times. Everyone knew that.

Despite his anger and shock, Cecily believed she had been correct in telling Miles everything at once. Knowing him as well as she did, she was certain he would not come to bed until he had puzzled everything out. He was no doubt drinking another brandy in the sitting room, and ‘getting his ducks in a row’, as he called it.

One thing she was sure of was his ingrained practicality. However distasteful something might be to him, he would, in the end, do what was best for Cavendon and its future.

After a while, she managed to ease herself into a better frame of mind, to let go of her worries, and concentrated on her youngest child. Gwen had been unhappy for quite a while now, because she wanted to have a kitten. Miles had not liked the idea of animals in the house. Now Cecily decided she was going to buy Gwen that cat. Once it was there, Miles would find it extremely difficult to take it away from Gwen, whom he adored.

Cecily smiled at this decision, and fell asleep at last, filled with loving thoughts of her wartime baby who had brought her so much happiness.