The Cavendon Women (22 page)

Hugo looked at her, his eyes twinkling. “I hope you thought I was, and that I still am.”

“The biggest catch of all time, Hugo, my darling,” Daphne declared emphatically.

“Anyway, Diedre's never seemed interested in marriage. What about her job at the War Office? It's always meant such a lot to her.” Hugo personally believed she buried herself in work because she was lonely. In the way Cecily Swann had been all these years.

“Oh pooh to that! I don't know why she stayed there. There's no war on at the moment. When would Paul leave?”

“He said he wanted to finish our work here, consolidate our future plans. His mother's not at death's door. Under the weather, I believe. He wanted my input yesterday, and I said I thought we could finish up in three or four weeks, something like that.”

Daphne was thoughtful, and after a moment she asked, “When would he come back to London? Do you know?”

“In about two months. At least, that's what he said to me over lunch. Perhaps he might tell her he's serious. Mind you, that's an assumption on my part.”

Daphne sat back against the sofa, staring into the distance. Then she said, “I never make assumptions,” and got to her feet.

Hugo stared up at her. “What an odd thing to say, darling.”

Smiling at him, she bent forward, kissed his cheek. “I know. Actually, I must leave you for a while. I need to see Eric and Laura.”

Hugo glanced at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece, and exclaimed, “But it's only seven-fifteen! No one will arrive for a while.”

“Oh yes, Great-Aunt Gwendolyn is bound to get here first, at least twenty minutes early, if not sooner. She likes to have a chat with me alone, pumping me for news.”

He laughed as she hurried out, his eyes following her. How lucky he had been in finding her, his beautiful Daphne.

*   *   *

Laura Swann, who was now thirty-nine, had been in service at the Grosvenor Square house of the Inghams since she was fourteen. She had started as a kitchen maid, had worked her way up to head housemaid, and was appointed housekeeper twelve years ago. Daphne, like her father, considered Laura to be a treasure.

For her part, Laura Swann believed it was a great privilege to work for such a fine family as the Inghams, who were, in her eyes, quite unique.

She stood back, surveyed the buffet table she had just finished arranging. It stood at one end of the dining room, in the bay-window area, and had been brought up from the basement for the supper.

It had been her brother Eric's idea, just as he had suggested that they remove three leaves from the huge dining table. This made space for the buffet table, and also created a more intimate seating plan for the nine people at the impromptu supper.

“What a splendid sight,” Daphne said as she walked into the dining room. Drawing to a standstill next to Laura, she added, “You've outdone yourself.”

“Thank you, m'lady. I'm glad you're happy.”

“My goodness, what a lovely selection of food. How on earth did you manage it?” She swung around to face Laura, smiling warmly, impressed by the starched white tablecloth, floral arrangement, and candelabra, as well as the food.

“As you know, I always keep several chickens in the cold pantry, m'lady, along with other meats. Yesterday, when you informed Eric about supper tonight, I went to Harte's in Knightsbridge. They have a wonderful food department, as you know. I picked up the whole smoked salmon, a veal and ham pie, a game pie, and some of the small pork pies, which I know Mr. Hugo enjoys. I roasted one chicken, and the other I used for my chicken-and-vegetable casserole. There's also a ham I made, at the other end of the table, Lady Daphne. I thought it was a good idea to have two or three hot dishes, for the guests who don't relish cold food. And Eric suggested I make a vegetable Lancashire hotpot. That's on the other hot plate.”

“And I see a wheel of Stilton cheese, a green salad, and quite an array of steamed vegetables. How on earth you've produced this all by yourself I'll never know, Laura.”

“It wasn't such a lot of cooking, m'lady, because I did buy the readymade food from Harte's. Just the two chicken dishes, the ham, the hotpot, and the vegetables.”

Laura looked across at one of the parlormaids, Bella, who was now entering the dining room pushing a tea cart. “Bella was a great help, your ladyship, and here she is now with the desserts, which I will place on the sideboard.”

Marveling to herself, Daphne went over to look at the desserts as Laura put them on the wide Chippendale sideboard, which stood against the back wall. “They all look delicious,” she pronounced.

“We always have custards, blancmange, and jellies in the cold pantry for the children, m'lady.”

“Yes, I know, and thank you, Laura, and you too, Bella. And the sponge cake looks positively delicious!”

A moment later, Eric arrived in the dining room, wheeling the large wine trolley. “Here are the selections Mr. Hugo made, Lady Daphne,” the butler said, pushing the trolley into a corner of the dining room. “I will service the table from here, and, of course, the water will already be poured in the glasses when everyone sits down. The two parlormaids will serve the bread—” Eric cut himself off, and said, “That's the doorbell, m'lady. I think it's probably Lady Gwendolyn.”

“I'm certain it is,” Daphne responded dryly.

“Please excuse me, Lady Daphne. I must go and let her ladyship in.”

*   *   *

“Are you telling me you let both footmen go?” Lady Gwendolyn said, looking at Daphne closely, frowning. “Are things
that
bad?”

“No, they're not
bad,
as you call it, Great-Aunt Gwendolyn. Not at all. With Hugo, Miles, and Harry on the job, things are going extremely well. They've handled everything with great success during Papa's absence.”

“That's truly heartening, I must say. Very good news, my dear.”

“I let the footmen go because it was a waste of money. We're not in London enough anymore. Diedre has her own flat, as do you. DeLacy has her flat in Alford Street. In fact, it's only
us
who stay here when we come to town, and Miles occasionally, of course.”

“I do understand, Daphne. I'm not being critical, I assure you. Just curious.” She smiled knowingly, and added, “I realize you think I'm unusually nosey, but this family is all I have, you know. You're my life.”

“Dearest, darling Great-Aunt Gwen, I don't mind your questions. Not at all. And I welcome your advice. We all love you, you should know that by now.” Daphne spoke warmly and with great sincerity, meant every word.

Lady Gwendolyn reached out and grasped Daphne's hand, squeezed it. “It's mutual, my dear. And I must say, Daphne, your eyes look bluer than ever tonight, and you're not even wearing blue.”

Smiling at her great-aunt, Daphne explained, “Cecily made me the outfit earlier this year, and it's a sort of grayish color, with just the merest hint of a pale, pale blue. Anyway, she predicted it would make my eyes look bluer than ever, and she was right. I think she's as fed up as you with the blue frocks we all own.”

“She's very clever, brilliant actually, and I must say I love the skirt and jacket you're wearing. So unique,” Lady Gwendolyn replied.

“Very Ceci style. Loose casual, so comfortable. And the skirt is actually a pair of wide trousers which she calls the Divided Skirt,” Daphne said. “The little top and the long jacket are called the Kimono Set. She has names for everything.”

“Do you think it would suit
me
?” Lady Gwendolyn asked, and then laughed. “I don't suppose so, not at my age.”

“Of course it would!” Daphne jumped up, turned around slowly, modeling the outfit, saying as she did, “As you can see, the wide trousers do actually look like a skirt; the cropped blouse is neat, unobtrusive; and the kimono jacket is loose, flowing, with lovely wide sleeves. You can ask her what she thinks. She's coming to supper with Miles.”

Lady Gwendolyn raised an eyebrow. “Are those two friendlier? I felt an awful lot of ice at your father's wedding. They were like the Arctic Circle.”

“I think she has thawed tremendously. Cecily has taken pity on him. Poor thing, he's been so sad and very lonely all these years. And she does love him. They love each other.”

“I know
that,
” Lady Gwendolyn murmured, and thought to herself: Ingham and Swann. They just can't resist each other, that's the God's truth. I should know. I've only got to think of my brother and also Charles to understand the pull.

Seating herself in the chair again, Daphne leaned closer to her aunt, and said, sotto voce, “Miles went to see Clarissa to ask for a divorce. She turned him down. She doesn't want one.”

Lady Gwendolyn sat up straighter and peered at Daphne, then said slowly, in a low voice, “I can't imagine why Charles ever allowed Miles to marry that ghastly girl. As for her father, Lord Meldrew, I think he's a piece of work. A jumped-up nobody. Can't we buy her off? I'm willing to throw a whole heap of money into the kitty. Whatever it costs, it's worth it.”

At this moment, Dulcie floated into the blue-and-white sitting room where Daphne and Lady Gwendolyn sat chatting. As usual, she had just caught the end of the conversation, and asked, “What kind of kitty? One that says ‘meow'?”

“The kind that's a money pot,” Daphne replied. “A lot of money to buy off Miss Mildew.”

Dulcie laughed. “I remember when we all used to call her that. And she
is
perfectly ghastly, Great-Aunt Gwendolyn. I'll add my paltry savings to that kitty, in a shot. Actually, I found a lot of gorgeous paintings in the attic here. We could sell some.”

The two women looked at her, aghast, and Daphne said, “We'll talk about that later. In the meantime, here's Diedre with her lovely fellow, Paul Drummond.”

“Oh, I must see
him
again,” Lady Gwendolyn announced, immediately rising, and gliding over to greet the couple as they walked into the room together.

After welcoming Diedre with a kiss on the cheek and a breezy smile, Lady Gwendolyn offered her hand to Paul Drummond.

He took it in his, and shook it, his smile as wide as hers. “It is so nice to meet you again, Lady Gwendolyn,” he said. “As I recall, you and I had rather an interesting conversation about jewelry when we last met. Most informative for me.”

“You have a good memory, Mr. Drummond,” she responded, and turning to Diedre, she added, “I must say you do look extremely lovely tonight, my dear. I like that color … pale lavender, isn't it? And no doubt it's a Cecily Swann frock. Everyone seems to be wearing them these days. My friends are awed that I can get an appointment to see her so quickly.” Lady Gwendolyn chuckled. “I don't tell them I've known her since before she was born. I let them think I have some other kind of special pull.”

Diedre and Paul laughed, and Paul said, “Her talent is amazing, and although they have a similar look, the dresses are quite different.”

“No frock is quite the same,” Diedre pointed out. “They just have a certain cachet that's kind of like … a label. And she uses the most unusual colors, all those pale hues. And then, at the other side of the spectrum, vivid shades that make an impression. I have a purple gown that everyone admires.”

“Her success is phenomenal, and I can only say I am glad she and Miles are together again. It was such a cruel thing, the way they were wrenched apart. But that is the way of our world. Or should I say that
was
the way. Nowadays, anything goes, I suppose.” Lady Gwendolyn shrugged. “I just go with the times.”

Dulcie came over to join them, followed by Daphne, and a moment after this DeLacy arrived on the arm of Hugo, who had bumped into her in the hall.

Daphne hurried over to DeLacy, and hugged her close. “I'm so happy you're looking better, darling. I've been worried about you lately. You've seemed too frail, and sad.”

DeLacy smiled at her older sister. “You were always the little mother, and you never change. But thank you for caring so much, and I do feel better than I have in ages, Daphers.”

They stood around, chatting together until Miles and Cecily arrived. They were the last. After the whole party had mingled for a short while, Daphne found Eric in the dining room and asked him to announce supper.

He did this a few minutes later, and they trooped into the room, all of them exclaiming how welcoming the dining room looked in the firelight, and with the candles flickering on the table. When they saw the buffet table, Dulcie was the first to declare it a veritable feast, which it was.

 

Thirty

Daphne was elated that everyone had enjoyed the supper, including the food. They had all gone up to the laden buffet table, where they had been served by Eric and Laura.

There had been many compliments given about the various dishes on display, and later the men, in particular, had eaten the meat pies from Harte's, the Lancashire hotpot, and the chicken casserole with obvious relish.

“Lovely men's food,” Miles had whispered to Daphne as they had surveyed the buffet table together. “I'm going to have a pork pie.”

“I told Laura to be sure to make things which would be easy for them to serve. And I think going to Harte's for certain foodstuffs, such as the smoked salmon and the game and meat pies, was a stroke of genius.”

Her brother agreed. “She's always been quick, and inventive,” he reminded Daphne. “You were right to get rid of the cook.”

Service at the buffet table was swift and well done, and almost everyone had seconds, followed by dessert.

Now it was time for the men to go into the library for cigars and cognac; Daphne would take the women into the blue-and-white sitting room for coffee, tea, and liqueurs, if anyone wanted them. She also planned to discuss the missing jewels with her sisters later.