Cavendon Hall (11 page)

Madge was joining them, and she had asked DeLacy to come along as well. Her sister was delighted to be invited to go riding with this older group, and had accepted with alacrity and pleasure.

There was a knock on the bedroom door, and DeLacy, her face full of smiles, came in, asking, “Are you ready, Daphne? Everyone’s waiting for you.”

Daphne reached for her elegant lady’s bowler hat, and, looking in the mirror, smoothing her hand over her bun, she then perched the bowler on top of her head. “Yes, I’m ready,” she answered, and stood. Picking up her gloves, she pulled them on, and continued, “I don’t feel like riding today, but I didn’t want to disappoint Julian and Madge.”

“You don’t want to disappoint Papa, either,” DeLacy exclaimed.

“Papa! Is he joining us?” The thought of her father being with them cheered her up enormously, brought a smile to her bright blue eyes.

“Yes, he is. He told me a good gallop would do him good, that he needed to clear his head. Mama is not going to Harrogate today, and she invited Julian and Madge to join us for lunch, after our ride.”

“That’s nice,” Daphne murmured, endeavoring to shut out the vivid image of Richard Torbett’s angry, snarling face as they went downstairs together.

*   *   *

The earl, Julian, and Madge were waiting outside, standing next to their horses and chatting amiably. Daphne and DeLacy went over to join them, and after greeting her father, Daphne stepped over to welcome Julian and his fiancée.

Madge Courtney was a striking redhead, good-looking, forceful in her manner, and taller than Julian; she had a friendly, outgoing personality, and was good company.

Daphne had always thought they looked odd together. Julian, of medium height, fair of coloring, and with soft features, appeared to be much younger than her. Yet they were the same age; Julian was introspective, less flamboyant.

Julian hugged Daphne, as always gentle and loving with her, and told her she looked beautiful. “So elegant, Daphne, in your dark blue riding habit. An unusual color. And I love the bowler. That’s a snappy touch.”

“Thank you, Julian,” she answered graciously, and said to Madge, “I’m so glad you can come back for lunch with us.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Madge answered, and then turned to DeLacy to speak with her.

A few minutes later, they were all mounted. DeLacy was riding Dreamer, a horse she had long favored, whilst Daphne was on Greensleeves, a beautiful roan, which she had owned for several years, a gift from her father.

Within minutes they were trotting out of the stable block, heading for the long stretch of fields where they would be able to enjoy their gallop, racing each other, and giving their horses a good run.

As they swept across the open fields, Daphne began to feel better. Her father was right, fresh air cleared the head. Blowing the cobwebs away was a grand idea, she decided, and settled into her saddle, handling her horse with her usual skill and finesse.

Once they came to the end of the fields, exhilarated by the race, they slowed down, and wheeled their horses to the left. They headed along one of the wide bridle paths which ran along the right side of the bluebell woods, slowly progressing back to Cavendon.

It was a beautiful day, sunny and mild, with a blue sky, and no hint of rain for once. Daphne blocked out the image of her assault in the woods last week. These were
their
woods, and she would not avoid them, even if she had to grit her teeth to forget her ordeal. But she would put it behind her. It wouldn’t happen again, she was certain of that. Their land would now be patrolled regularly by their own men, thanks to the Swanns.

As she trotted along the path behind DeLacy, enjoying the shade created by the overhanging branches of the trees, Daphne noticed that her lovely heron was back. It was standing in the pool of water in the middle of the woods, and it brought a brief smile to her face. It had found a home, she decided.

Unexpectedly, she caught sight of Walter’s brother, Percy, who was head gamekeeper at Cavendon. She saw her father beckoning him over, and Percy started to run toward them. Then he stood talking to the earl for a few moments, before he hurried off.

Suddenly, in the distance, there was the sound of gunfire. Shots rang out, startling them all, especially the horses. Greensleeves snorted and reared up on her hind legs, tossed her head, frightened by the sudden noise. Daphne tightened the reins, endeavored to calm her, to gain control of her. Somehow she managed it. And then she saw, much to her horror, that Julian’s horse had not only panicked but bolted.

It was galloping down the bridle path hell for leather, obviously totally spooked by the rifle fire. And then she was filled with fear when Julian was thrown off his horse. He landed heavily, hit a large boulder, rolled over onto his back, and lay still.

Daphne noticed that the other horses were in the same state of great agitation, pawing, tossing their heads, and rearing up. DeLacy was still struggling with Dreamer, trying to calm her. But finally her father had his stallion Blackstar under his control, much to Daphne’s relief.

Julian’s horse ran on, galloping down the bridle path, still a terrified animal.

DeLacy and Daphne galloped forward. As they drew closer to Julian they reined in their horses and jumped to the ground. Their father was running toward Julian, where he lay on the ground not moving. He was obviously badly hurt.

Only Madge remained on her horse, frozen by shock and fear, and unable to move a muscle. She had lost all color, her eyes wide with horror.

Glancing around, DeLacy asked no one in particular, “Where did those shots come from?” And then she went to join her father, who was kneeling next to Julian.

The earl shook his head. “I’ve no idea, DeLacy. But we never have guns out at this time of year.” He felt Julian’s pulse. It was faint but it was there. The young man was deathly white, and Charles noticed that the gash on his forehead was deep, bloody. His eyes were closed; blood was splattered on his fair hair. He was still, very still indeed, hardly breathing. Charles was filled with sudden fear for the young man. The fall had been bad, awkward, and his legs were skewed, looked as if they were broken.

Percy Swann was suddenly back with them, panting from running hard. “Our lads weren’t shooting, m’lord. None of our men have guns out here. I’m not sure where those shots came from, m’lord.”

“Torbett land,” Daphne interjected, certainty ringing in her voice. Half turning, she pointed behind her. “Definitely back there.” She couldn’t help thinking it was Richard Torbett up to his tricks. Then she looked down at Julian, and was struck by his total inertness, his extreme pallor. She was suddenly afraid for him. She knew he was in a bad way. Her chest tightened, and anxiety flared in her as she wondered if he would recover. She doubted it. He looked so …
damaged
. He lay there like a broken doll.

The earl said, “I don’t think we should move Mr. Julian, Swann. Or carry him away. It could be dangerous to do so. He’s lying in a funny way. His neck could be broken, or his spine. If I remember correctly, don’t we have some sort of makeshift stretcher at Cavendon?”

“We do, Lord Mowbray. It was made for Sir Redvers Andrews, when he had a heart attack on the grouse moor last August. And it’s still there in the cellars, as far as I know. I can get it, m’lord, and be back in a few minutes with some of the woodsmen.”

“Thank you, Swann. Have Hanson make a phone call to Dr. Shawcross. He should tell the doctor we need an ambulance. Mr. Torbett will have to be taken to hospital. Harrogate’s the nearest.”

“Right-o, m’lord,” Percy answered, and began to move away.

Daphne said, “Papa, Swann should take my horse, it’s faster riding than running, surely.”

“Good idea, Daphne. Take her ladyship’s horse, Swann,” the earl said.

DeLacy was kneeling on the ground next to her father, and she now asked in a concerned tone, “Do you think Julian is going to die, Papa?” She thought he might actually be dead already, but didn’t dare say that out loud.

“I’ve absolutely no idea. I pray to God not. He took a terrible, very hard fall. He must have damaged his spine, and he must have a bad head injury. Look at all the blood on the grass. He’s certainly unconscious.”

“I know,” DeLacy said. As her sister spoke, Daphne walked back to Madge. Always kind and thoughtful, she knew she must offer some sort of comfort to the young woman, who was still sitting on her horse, as if frozen in place. She was like a statue. Her face was the color of chalk, and looked unnatural. It was stark against her vivid auburn hair.

Touching her on the arm, Daphne said gently, “Can you dismount, Madge? Or do you need my father to help you?”

Madge gazed at Daphne and, observing her sympathetic expression, she began to weep. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I don’t need help, I can manage now. But I’ll need help later … of that I’m quite sure.” She threw Daphne a sorrowful look, shaking her head in disbelief.

After she had managed to dismount somewhat awkwardly, Madge and Daphne walked back to the earl and DeLacy. They were still kneeling on the grass, their eyes riveted on Julian, who looked like a corpse to them.

Madge crouched down next to her fiancé. She touched his face, smoothed her hand over his brow. “It’s me, Julian,” she said, drawing closer. “I’m here, my darling, I’m here for you.”

He did not answer her. She began to weep, and Daphne comforted her as best she could.

Even though Percy Swann, the woodsmen, and Hanson, as well as the other staff at Cavendon, moved with great swiftness and efficiency, it was two hours before Julian Torbett arrived at the hospital in Harrogate. He had suffered a fractured skull and a broken back, but he was still alive. By six o’clock that same evening he was dead, having never regained consciousness.

*   *   *

The funeral of Julian Baxter Torbett was held at Ripon Cathedral by his family four days later. The great families of Yorkshire were in attendance, and other friends came in droves.

The Earl and Countess of Mowbray, their three oldest daughters, and other Inghams were present, seated at the front of the cathedral.

The women were dressed in black from head to toe, and all wore hats, some with veils. It was Lady Daphne Ingham who had chosen a large-brimmed hat with a black tulle veil, one which totally obscured her face. She made sure she was seated between her father and mother in the pew, where she felt totally protected and safe.

Not once did she look at the Torbetts.

At the end of the service, accompanied by her sisters Diedre and DeLacy, she paid her condolences to Julian’s mother, and to Madge. And then the three of them left the cathedral, crowded out by everyone else, Diedre later explained.

She felt sad that her childhood friend had died the way he had, and so young, but she had no feelings at all for the Torbetts, except hatred, of course, for the rapist in that family.

Part Two

THE LAST SUMMER

July–September 1913

There has fallen a splendid tear

From the passion-flower at the gate.

She is coming, my dove, my dear;

She is coming, my life, my fate.

—Alfred, Lord Tennyson

O Lyric Love, half angel and half bird,

And all a wonder and a wild desire.

—Robert Browning

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

—W. B. Yeats

Fifteen

“
I
s there something wrong with Daphne?” Miles Ingham asked, looking across at Cecily, giving her one of his very direct stares. “Everyone in the family I’ve asked says that she’s perfectly fine, but I don’t think she is. In fact, I know she’s not.”

Cecily moved her position slightly on the thick car rug spread out on the ground, silent for a moment, then she shrugged. “She does seem sort of distant … far away. But I don’t think there’s anything
wrong
with her.
Honestly
.”

Miles sighed. “I believe you, because we’ve always told each other the truth. You know I’m close to her, Ceci, and she’s just not herself. Whatever anyone says.” He poured lemonade into two old silver mugs, forced on him by Cook, who didn’t like the family using glasses outside, because of previous accidents.

He handed one of the mugs to Cecily, who thanked him. Miles took a long swallow of the lemonade, then reached for a cucumber sandwich. His mind was racing. He had been home from Eton for almost a week, and he had known the instant he’d arrived at Cavendon that his sister was troubled. He had even wondered if she was ill. There was a listlessness about her, she was paler than usual, and she appeared preoccupied. When he’d questioned her, she had vehemently denied there was anything wrong. But
he
wasn’t convinced.

Miles and Cecily were sitting under a large sycamore tree in a glade at the edge of the bluebell woods, having one of their special picnics. It was a beautiful morning in mid-June, and all was well at Cavendon. At least on the surface. The family was coping with Anne Sedgewick’s fatal illness, and the sudden unexpected death of Julian Torbett, which had been so upsetting to them.

Daphne’s horrendous experience had remained a secret known only to the Swanns, and was, therefore, buried deep. Her parents didn’t even know that Daphne had “fallen” in the woods. Daphne had kept quiet and so had DeLacy. Cecily, a Swann, knew not to utter one word about it.

With Miles home from Eton and Guy from Oxford, the entire family was in residence. Normally they would all have been at the London house for the summer season, but the countess had asked the earl if they could remain in Yorkshire for the summer. She was concerned about her sister, and wanted to be nearby in case she was needed.

The earl, who adored his wife and wanted to please her, had agreed. They had not even gone up to London for Royal Ascot Week in June.

Suddenly, Miles said, “Do you think that perhaps she’s so quiet because of Julian’s death? Surely not, Ceci. After all, they were only chums, and childhood chums at that.” He frowned, threw her a puzzled look. “She can’t be grieving, can she?” Miles, at fourteen, was unusually insightful for his age, and had always understood that Daphne had no interest in Julian.