Cavendon Hall Part 9

Although Hanson was slightly put out, not liking the idea of Lady Daphne lingering here downstairs with a relative of the help, he was clever enough not to display his feelings. He hurried away in search of Mrs. Thwaites.

Daphne continued to stand in the doorway of the servants' hall, and as the silence lengthened she said, "How old is your baby?"

"He's eighteen months, and doing well, Lady Daphne."

"And what's his name?"

"It's Kevin, m'lady." There was a pause, and then she said, again with the small smile, "Patrick, that's my husband, is Irish. So obviously we picked an Irish name."

Before she could respond, Daphne heard clicking heels running down the corridor, and suddenly Peggy Swift was rus.h.i.+ng into the room, slightly fl.u.s.tered, her expression anxious. When she saw her sister she rushed over to her, flung her arms around her and the baby. And then looked down at the child, touched his cheek with a finger.

And in that instant Daphne knew that Peggy was the mother of this child, not June. There was such adoration and motherly love reflected on her face, it was patently obvious. Daphne continued to watch her, wondering what her situation was.

As if Peggy had somehow become aware of Daphne's fixed scrutiny, she swung around and stared at Daphne, and then her face flushed bright red.

She knows what I'm thinking, Daphne realized, and instantly wanted to put the young maid at ease. "Your nephew's a lovely little boy, Peggy," she murmured, and edged out of the doorway. "I'll leave you both alone now. You've things to discuss." With another smile and a gracious nod of her head, she hurried down the corridor to the back stairs and went upstairs.

A few seconds later she was gliding into the conservatory, her favorite room, where she sank down into a chair, still thinking of Peggy Swift and June. She couldn't help focusing on June, who she had found wandering around at the back of the house. She had known that something was amiss from the moment June had spoken to her, asking about Peggy. And she was even more convinced of this now. Everyone knew better than to seek out a relative who was in service. It never happened. So there was a problem. A big problem. Her heart went out to Peggy. Perhaps the O'Sullivans could no longer look after the child ...

Daphne's mind drifted as she leaned back against the cus.h.i.+ons ... and thought about her own predicament. She was pregnant, and single, as Peggy more than likely had been. The difference was that she came from a rich and powerful family who could help her through her trouble, and would do so lovingly. At least Charlotte Swann had a.s.sured her of that. But was Charlotte right? She was not sure. Throw a pebble in a pool and watch the ripples spread out, Daphne thought. I am a pebble, and the ripples are about to spread and spread. And my life will never be the same ever again. Rape she could have perhaps hidden. But pregnancy? That was hardly likely.

"She's nice," June said, sipping the cup of tea Peggy had just brought to her from the kitchen.

"You mean Lady Daphne?"

"Yes, of course. But Cook's nice too. Can you take Kevin for a minute, Peg? So I can drink my tea."

"Here, give him to me," she answered, and took the child in her arms. But she did not sit down. Cook had already told her to get her business done quickly. Visitors were frowned on, she'd said. "Mrs. Thwaites came to the kitchen to ask why you're here," she explained to her sister.

June nodded her understanding. "What did you tell her?"

"I said you needed my signature on a piece of paper to do with Dad's farm. So I'll sign it when you've finished your tea."

"Thanks, Peg, it's good of you to give up your share, and we appreciate it. Patrick'll make a go of the farm, and it's a home for you, too, when you need it."

"I know," Peggy murmured, having understood right from the beginning of their marriage that they'd want the farm one day. Anyway, what use was a farm to her? She wouldn't be able to run it. Still, they were using the baby as a tool, to get her to give them her half. A fool she wasn't. She'd only been a fool giving in to Andy Newson, who'd got her in the family way and then run a mile. Three thousand miles, actually, since he'd gone to America.

Peggy looked down at her son and smiled at him, touched his cheek, kissed his nose. He was a gorgeous baby. She was suddenly glad June was taking care of him. She trusted her sister when it came to the child. June would love him, nurture him, keep him safe. She had no qualms about that.

"Is it Lady Daphne you look after, then? Are you her maid?" June asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"No, I'm more of a general parlor maid. All of the four Dees are nice, but-"

"Who are the four dees?"

Peggy grinned. "Diedre, Daphne, DeLacy, and Dulcie. The four daughters of the earl. All beautiful, in their own way, but the terror is Dulcie. Five going on fifteen, and very cheeky."

This comment made June smile, and she shook her head. "Some little girls are like that, grown-up before their time. So you do like it here at Cavendon?"

"Sort of, the housekeeper's quite nice, and so is Cook." She shrugged. "The footmen are full of themselves, think they're the bee's knees."

"I thought there was one you liked."

"Yes, Gordon Lane, he's pleasant, and has been kind to me, and he's not too conceited."

"Be careful, Peg," June warned, staring at her sister pointedly.

Peggy flushed. "I won't be going that route again, I can tell you that." Peggy paused, listened, and then swiftly handed the baby back to June. "Give me the doc.u.ment to sign. Come on, be quick. I can hear Hanson coming down the corridor. He runs this place with an iron hand. He won't like it that you're still here. He'll say I'm wasting time."

"We have to have two witnesses when you sign," June cried as she put the envelope on the table.

"Oh my G.o.d! No!" Peggy became fl.u.s.tered as Hanson hurried into the servants' hall, looking somewhat put out.

"Now, now, what's all this?" he asked, eyeing Peggy suspiciously. "Your sister's begun to outstay her welcome. You're in dereliction of your duties, Swift."

"Yes, I know. I'm ever so sorry, Mr. Hanson. I need to sign this paper, a legal doc.u.ment. But I need two witnesses," she wailed, looking suddenly panic-stricken.

Anxious to remove the woman and the baby, and get Peggy Swift back to her work, Hanson exclaimed, "Well, then let me get a pen, and I'll sign, and I'll bring Mrs. Thwaites with me. Once the doc.u.ment is dealt with your sister must be on her way. Immediately."

"Yes, sir, thank you, Mr. Hanson, I'm ever so grateful."

Eighteen.

The Inghams were on the very edge of a precipice. One false step would prove fatal. If they fell they would be doomed forever.

The fall of the house of Ingham, Charlotte thought. No, no, I can't allow that to happen. I can't be the only Swann in over 160 years to fail in my duty. Since 1749 the Swanns have protected the Inghams, starting with my ancestor James Swann, liege man to Humphrey Ingham, the First Earl of Mowbray.

I must pull some tricks out of the hat, she told herself. I can't be shamed, can't be a failure.

But she knew she couldn't make the pregnancy go away, just like that, with the snap of her fingers. There was only one solution: She had to conceal it, camouflage it, and keep it a secret. And she needed a foolproof plan.

Charlotte sighed to herself as she walked on, her mind turning swiftly, endless possibilities occurring to her. She glanced around, thinking that the park was lovely on this sunny July morning. She usually took this route, avoiding the dirt road from the village. That happened to be the quickest way, but not as pretty to traverse.

When she came to the walled rose garden, she pushed open the heavy wooden door and went in, sat down on a garden seat, breathed in the fragrance of the roses. They were blooming well, and their scent was very heady, almost overpowering, but then roses were her favorite flowers.

Leaning back against the wooden seat, Charlotte closed her eyes, relaxing a little, focusing on an almost insurmountable problem: A pregnant, unwed girl, the seventeen-year-old daughter of one of England's premier earls, from a preeminent and most powerful family; the great beauty expected to achieve important things for them, through a brilliant marriage to a duke's son.

Her father's dream ... a dream now destroyed, and in an instant of unthinkable violence.

An involuntary s.h.i.+ver ran through Charlotte, and she squeezed her eyes tighter, not wanting the welling tears to seep out. And she was on the verge of tears. This was a terrible tragedy, heartbreaking, and the girl wasn't to blame at all. She was the innocent victim. A raging maniac, a pervert, had committed rape on an innocent young woman, had taken her life away. Daphne's future would be gone ... if she didn't save her.

Daphne. Poor Daphne, Charlotte thought, seeing her in her mind's eye ... the image of her yesterday had been memorable. She had looked truly beautiful, and so much so Charlotte had been stunned for a moment, had caught her breath in surprise when Daphne had come out onto the terrace to speak with her that morning.

She had been wearing a peach-colored afternoon dress, with a cowl neckline, full skirt, and long flowing sleeves. The soft color had emphasized her peaches-and-cream complexion, the blueness of her eyes. Charlotte had realized, at that precise moment, that a young man, any man, would be completely bowled over by her, caught up in the sheer loveliness of her.

The floaty dress, its warm peach color, her smiling face, her cheerful demeanor ... all had to do with Alice, who had told Charlotte everything immediately after she had found out about the pregnancy. "I explained to Daphne that she had to give the performance of her life for the next few days, until you came up with a plan. I told her she could not fail."

And I can't fail either, Charlotte reminded herself as she left the rose garden, hurried on up to Cavendon sitting high on the hill above the Dales, its windows gleaming in the bright northern sunlight.

She knew that Charles and Felicity were expecting her. Yesterday she had asked if she could see them both the next day, to discuss something very important.

In his usual easygoing way, Charles had agreed, and had not even asked what she wanted to discuss. He had also said that Felicity would be at Cavendon, because she was not going to Harrogate. Apparently, Anne Sedgewick's only child, Grace, and Grace's husband, Adrian, had arrived from Cairo at last, and were staying with her.

Later, Charlotte had met with Daphne on the terrace again, and had asked her to be available the following day. The girl was terrified of facing her parents, even though she was totally innocent of any wrongdoing. So much so, she was a nervous wreck, and when Charlotte had volunteered to talk to them first, Daphne had leapt at the idea. Anxiety-ridden though she was about the meeting, she was much calmer when Charlotte had finally gone home later that afternoon.

Charlotte glanced at her fob watch as she walked around to the back door of the house. It was just ten minutes past ten. She had time for a quick cup of tea, and a word with Hanson before her meeting.

When she walked into the kitchen, Cook's face brightened at the sight of her. "Charlotte! It's grand ter see yer, luv! I knows yer always popping in and out, but yer never pop in here, not these days, yer don't."

Charlotte went over to Cook, took hold of her hands affectionately, held them in hers for a moment. "I hate to come bothering you when you've so much to do. But I've a few minutes to spare today, before a meeting with Lord Mowbray, so I knew I just had to come and say h.e.l.lo."

"Well, then, let's have some tea. Or would yer prefer a cup of coffee? I've just made a pot."

"Why not? That sounds nice, Mrs. Jackson."

"Do yer know, young Cecily gets ter look more like yer do every day, Charlotte, and she's going ter be as beautiful," Cook said, as she went over to the stove, poured the coffee, then brought the cups to the table. "A lovely girl, that she is."

"Yes, I know, she's a darling," Charlotte agreed, and took a sip of the coffee. "And she's so talented, I can't believe how clever she is with a needle and thread."

"Lady Daphne thinks she's going ter be a designer one day, making frocks. In London, she said. What do yer think of that then?" Mrs. Jackson gave Charlotte a knowing look. "And she really did manage ter repair that there frock that got damaged with ink."

"So I heard," Charlotte murmured.

Stepping closer, Cook whispered, "Mrs. Sedgewick's been really poorly, that she has! And the countess has been out of her mind with worry. But things seem ter be calming down. Oh, and the countess's niece has come back from Egypt."

"Yes, I know." Charlotte picked up the coffee cup again, took another sip. "There aren't many secrets around here."

"Only too true. No doubt yer've heard that Master Hugo's coming back for a visit. I always liked that boy, I did that. Pity he got s.h.i.+pped off to heathen lands."

Charlotte laughed. "He went to New York, Mrs. Jackson, not darkest Africa. From what I gather, everyone's rather looking forward to seeing him again."

"That's so, yes." Cook hurried over to her boiling pots, took the lids off, peered inside, stirred one of the pots.

Charlotte said, "I'm afraid I've got to be off, Mrs. Jackson. Thank you for the coffee. It really hit the spot."

Cook beamed at her and blew her a kiss as she slipped out of the kitchen.

Charlotte found the butler in his office, as usual poring over a collection of papers on his desk. He glanced up as she knocked and went in, saying, "Good morning, Mr. Hanson. I just wanted to let you know I am meeting the earl and countess in the South Wing in a few minutes. For a private meeting. I didn't want you to be alarmed if you saw a lot of lights on in there on a Sat.u.r.day morning."

"Thank you, Miss Charlotte. I appreciate your thoughtfulness. But I did know about that. His lords.h.i.+p told me earlier."

Charlotte smiled and retreated. She went down the back corridor, and upstairs to the front entrance hall. Then she headed in the direction of the South Wing, and she braced herself for her encounter with the earl and countess.

Nineteen.

Charlotte heard steps behind her, and she recognized them. She paused, swung around, and, just as she had thought, Hanson was hurrying after her, a determined look on his face.

"I do apologize, Miss Charlotte," he said when he came to a stop. "I didn't ask if you would like some refreshments served during your meeting. The earl didn't give me any instructions, and it was remiss of me not to mention it a moment ago."

"I don't think we do, Mr. Hanson, but thank you for thinking of it." She smiled at him warmly. He was special to her; she had a soft spot for him, and took comfort from his calm authority. His constant presence had been rea.s.suring in times of trouble and problems; also, his devotion to Cavendon, and the family, was commendable. Although Hanson could be stern with the staff, he never raised his voice, nor was he unkind. It was a gift, the way he managed the staff. And the family, she added to herself, smiling inwardly.

Hanson said, "If you don't mind, I will accompany you to the South Wing. I can help you put on the lights. There are a lot of switches, you know. Still, I'm thankful the fifth earl put in electricity. We couldn't do without it now."

"Please come with me, Hanson, you'll be a great help." Realizing that he was riddled with curiosity about the meeting, and wanting to allay any concerns he might have, Charlotte said, in a confiding tone, "I suggested to his lords.h.i.+p that we should consider using the South Wing again. To open it up would be useful, because there's so much wear and tear on the East Wing. However, I also brought the matter up because I thought the earl should consider it for Lady Gwendolyn."

Hanson stopped abruptly, stared at her, obviously surprised. "I don't understand. Lady Gwendolyn is happy where she lives now, isn't she?" He sounded genuinely puzzled.

Charlotte nodded. "She is, yes. But I will confide in you, Mr. Hanson. However, this has to be between us."

"But of course. I would never break a confidence, you must know that after all these years."

"I do. I'm afraid the earl is rather troubled, in a sense, about Mr. Hugo's return. You see, Little Skell Manor is actually his. It belonged to his mother, but Lady Gwendolyn continued to live there after her death. However, it is his legally."

A look of comprehension crossed Hanson's face. "Lady Evelyne never changed her will in favor of her sister. That's the problem, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid so. Mr. Hugo would be within his legal rights to claim the house. I've been trying to find a solution, if that should happen. Where could we put Lady Gwendolyn? Obviously the South Wing came to mind. What is your opinion, Hanson?"

"It's the perfect solution, Miss Charlotte. Lady Gwendolyn does enjoy her privacy, and the South Wing is beautiful, and very comfortable. Ah, here we are. Let's go in and put on the lights."

As he spoke Hanson opened the double mahogany doors and ushered Charlotte inside. Together they went around the rooms, flipping light switches, and discussing the different s.p.a.ces. Charlotte knew this wing inside out, because she had worked in these rooms for years with David Ingham, the fifth earl.

"Thank you for helping me," she said in an undertone, when she heard footsteps and voices. She and Hanson went out to meet the earl and countess as they came into the gallery of the South Wing.

Hanson immediately excused himself and hurried off.

Charlotte said, "Hanson volunteered to help me turn on all the lights. Quite a task."

Lady Felicity was glancing around the pale green living room, and she exclaimed, "I'd forgotten what a lovely room this is, Charles, and the antiques are quite extraordinary. Aunt Gwendolyn would be happy here. Who wouldn't? You had a good idea, Charlotte."

"You might have forgotten, but the other rooms are equally as lovely. Let's walk around, your ladys.h.i.+p, shall we?" she suggested.

The countess agreed at once, and hurried ahead, leaving Charles and Charlotte to follow. "The more I see this wing, the more I like it," Charles murmured to Charlotte. "I'm seriously thinking of opening it up for the summer events, even if Hugo doesn't want the manor."

Charlotte simply nodded.