Barbara Bradford Taylor

The Cavendon Women


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out, thinking what a lovely woman she had become. Her marriage to Gordon, now the senior footman, had been successful, and they were obviously happy together.

      He had risen in the ranks of Cavendon after the war, and was a superb head footman, as well as a good right-hand man to Hanson. She relied on Gordon for many things, and he was willing to pitch in, clever in a variety of ways.

      I’m glad we gave them the biggest cottage in the village, when it became vacant, Daphne now thought as she took a sip of the tea. And that we broke the rules and allowed Gordon to sleep in his own home. The arrangement has worked out well. Changing times have their assets, it seems.

      Daphne’s thoughts slid back to her mother, and the missing jewels. She would get them back no matter what. She knew her father was worried about the stolen pieces. But she had pointed out that there was no way her mother could sell them. Every jeweller in London would know if they went on the market. The Ingham Collection was famous and well documented.

      There was a little cough and a shuffling of feet. When Daphne glanced up, she saw her daughter Alicia hovering in the doorway, looking discontented.

      ‘Darling, why the long face? And do come in, don’t stand there.’ Daphne gave her a welcoming smile, struck by her glowing face despite the sulky expression. She could see the woman in the child, and she realized yet again that her daughter would grow up to be stunning, a true beauty.

      The twelve-year-old girl, tall for her age, blonde and blue-eyed, came running in and stopped in front of her mother. She asked in a somewhat plaintive voice, ‘Am I going to be a bridesmaid or not, Mama?’

      ‘Of course you are, darling, I told you that last night, and we’ve already picked out a blue frock for you.’ Daphne threw her a puzzled look. ‘Why are you so upset?’

      ‘Charlie said it wasn’t true … about me being a bridesmaid. He said only the aunts were, and that you weren’t a bridesmaid either.’

      ‘I’m not, actually, I am the matron-of-honour, you see, because I am a married woman and no longer a maiden.’ Daphne shook her head. ‘He’s a scallywag, that brother of yours, he just loves to tease you.’

      Daphne stood up, took Alicia in her arms, held her close. ‘You’ll be the most beautiful of us all. I know that.’

      Alicia, who adored her mother, clung to her for a moment longer, and then stepped away, glanced up at her. ‘No, you’ll be the most beautiful, Mama. Everyone says you’re the great beauty of the Ingham family.’

      ‘Oh, they’re just prejudiced, my sweet,’ Daphne laughed.

      Alicia’s troubled expression had dissolved. Eagerly, she asked, ‘Shall I tell Nanny she can iron the frock?’

      ‘Why don’t you do that, Alicia? I’ll see you shortly … for the moment I must continue my work.’

      With a smile, Alicia skipped across the room, happiness obviously restored. Staring after her, Daphne felt a sudden glow inside. This child had turned out to be perfect. No, almost perfect, she corrected herself. I want her to be human, with a few naughty traits. There weren’t many, she had to admit that. She was a good girl, but sensitive at this age, and her brother did enjoy teasing her – too much at times.

      Returning to her desk by the window, Daphne picked up the guest list, then put it down again. Almost at once, her mind strayed to her mother. The last time she had spoken to Olive Wilson, her mother’s maid had told her that Felicity was unhappy in the marriage.

      When Daphne had asked her what had gone awry, Olive had fallen silent, glumly shaking her head, and had changed the subject.

      ‘We’re not intruding on your privacy, are we?’ Miles asked from the doorway, where he had suddenly appeared with Cecily.

      ‘You are,’ Daphne answered. ‘But come in anyway.’ She smiled at them and went on, ‘Cecily, you do look lovely. What a smart dress. But then you know that. You designed it. I’m wearing one of yours this evening, that lovely turquoise and green chiffon you made for me in May.’

      ‘It really suits you, Lady Daphne, and the colours are wonderful for you.’

      ‘Thank you, Cecily, that’s what my husband says.’

      ‘Can I look at the guest list?’ Miles asked, businesslike as he usually was.

      ‘Of course.’ Daphne held it out to him and spoke to Cecily again. ‘Tell me, how do you manage to stay cool and calm with so much going on around you? Cavendon has been in an uproar all day.’

      Cecily, who had seated herself in a chair, smiled at Daphne. ‘I ignore it. Concentrate on whatever project I’m working on. I won’t allow anything to distract me.’

      ‘That’s probably one of the secrets of your great success in business,’ Daphne remarked, meaning this.

      ‘You can be sure of it,’ Miles interjected. ‘Focus, determination and desire to do it right. That’s always been Ceci’s rule, even when she was little.’

      There was such admiration in his voice, Cecily was taken by surprise at this unexpected praise, and looked across at him. How weary he was, and depleted. Her heart went out to him. She had begun to understand how much he had suffered in the last few years. Harry had told her a lot last night, and she knew her brother spoke the truth.

      Miles walked over to Daphne and sat down in a chair next to her, studying the list. ‘Who’s this Richard Bowers chap? His name rings a bell.’

      A wry smile touched Daphne’s mouth. ‘He’s Aunt Vanessa’s current boyfriend. It’s serious. She told Papa they will be announcing their engagement soon. Apparently she had been intending to tell Papa about him this weekend, and so she asked if she could invite him to the wedding, to meet Papa before he went on his honeymoon. Our father agreed. What else could he do?’

      ‘So there’s going to be another wedding?’ Miles said.

      ‘Seemingly so, but listen, the two of you, what I’ve just told you is confidential. Vanessa doesn’t want to announce the engagement yet. He’s from the Barnard family, or rather his mother is, and Great-Aunt Gwendolyn knows her.’

      ‘I think I know him,’ Miles said. ‘He’s with the Foreign Office, a diplomat.’

      ‘No, that’s his brother, Clive. Dulcie told me that Richard is in the arts. I’m not sure what he does.’

      Miles nodded, then murmured, ‘Ah, I see Mark Stanton is coming, and also Paul Drummond. I’m glad there are a few extra chaps. We can dance.’

      ‘Dance? What do you mean?’ Daphne asked, her voice rising in alarm.

      ‘I’ve booked a quartet to play after dinner.’

      ‘Miles, you didn’t! That’s so expensive,’ Daphne protested.

      ‘It’s all right, Daphers, I’m footing the bill. It’s … well, sort of my wedding present to Papa and Charlotte, and Cecily has offered to pay for the fireworks display.’

      Daphne gaped at her brother. ‘You can’t be serious,’ she spluttered. Sudden anxiety echoed in her voice. ‘Papa and Charlotte wanted a small, very quiet wedding, no fuss. I’m sure this news will upset them.’

      ‘No, it won’t, you’ll see,’ Miles reassured her, sounding confident. ‘I have been inspired by Aunt Lavinia’s mean-spirited attitude. Cecily and I decided we needed to give the engagement dinner a little bit of a boost.’

      ‘It will give Aunt Lavinia a bit of a shock,’ Daphne exclaimed, and then laughed when she saw the look on her brother’s face. ‘She will certainly think that a fireworks display is vulgar.’

      ‘But it’s nicer than having a cream bun pushed in your mouth, don’t you think?’ Dulcie said as she walked into the conservatory.

      Miles said, ‘She will be apoplectic when the fireworks start.’ As he looked from