The Cavendon Women (52 page)

“It is, Miles, I agree. I don't need to utter another word, I know.” He stepped forward and gave Miles a big bear hug, murmured against his ear, “You're a free man, though. Bad as this is, it releases you from bondage.”

“I'd better go to Cecily, and then I'll find Papa, to tell him.”

“If you like, I can show him the
Times,
” Hugo said.

“Would you, please?”

Miles went into his suite of rooms through the sitting room, and sat down on the sofa for a moment. He was slightly numb with shock.

Clarissa was dead.

That was something he had not expected in his wildest dreams, and would never wish it on anyone, however bitter he felt. What an irony that her duplicitous crook of a father had lived. How strange destiny was. But no doubt Meldrew would spend a good many years of his life in jail. Where he belonged.

He heard a noise and looked at the bedroom door and saw Cecily standing there in her dressing gown, staring at him.

“You let me sleep through breakfast,” she said.

“I know, but you seemed exhausted last night.” Walking over to her, he put his arms around her shoulders, and led her over to the sofa. “Come and sit with me. I've something to tell you, darling.”

Cecily pulled back, stared at him. “Something's happened. You sound very serious, even dour. What is it, Miles?”

He told her, repeating everything he had read in the newspaper. “Hugo has loads of other papers downstairs, Ceci. I'm going to speak to Papa, and then read them. Hugo thinks Papa and I will be mentioned, that we should go to London. And that you should stay up here in Cavendon until this sort of … well, blows over. There might be reporters wanting to speak to me and Papa.”

Cecily nodded. “To be honest, Miles, I think I need to stay here in the country for a couple of weeks. I have some work to do, and I need to be … at peace, which I always am here…” Her voice fell away, and then she said slowly, “What a horrifying way to die.”

*   *   *

Naturally the newspapers had a field day with the story. Thousands of words were written about Clarissa Meldrew; her tycoon father; her estranged husband, Miles Ingham; his father, the Sixth Earl of Mowbray; and his lover, Cecily Swann. They dug into the dirt, and they wrote their stories, and the Inghams didn't mind at all. And neither did a young woman called Swann. A piece of her beloved Miles was growing inside her.

“What is that wonderful phrase someone once said? ‘Publish and be damned.' I don't give a hoot what they say. I know who I am and what I am,” Charles said to Miles one day. “My son's bad marriage doesn't define me. Who I am as a man defines me.”

“I agree, and quite frankly, Papa, I don't think the newspapers have been that bad at all. In fact, I think Meldrew has fared much worse than us. And why not? They know he's a criminal.”

Charles nodded. “I'm glad you got our solicitors together with theirs, and took over the Kensington house. I presume you don't want to live there, do you?”

“God no, not on your life! It should go on the market, don't you think?”

“I do indeed. The money will help with all these new blasted leaks and broken pipes, and God knows what else. Cavendon's a thief, my father used to say, and he was right.”

*   *   *

“Thanks for ringing me, Uncle Howard,” Cecily said. “Keeping me posted. Miles likes to know everything.”

“I promised I would stay in touch. And from what I hear, Meldrew will be jailed as soon as his injuries have healed. He actually has police guards round the clock at the hospital. He won't be able to just walk out of there, you know. The fraud police have loads on him. He'll go down for years.”

“He deserves it,” Cecily said.

“We're looking forward to coming to the wedding, Ceci. And here's Aunt Dorothy, who's itching to speak to you.”

“Hello, Dottie,” Cecily said. “I'm sorry I'm still up here in Yorkshire, but Dr. Laird wanted me to rest for a bit longer.”

“Take all the time you need, my little love. I'm holding the fort. Dulcie's in and out, and Diedre offered to come over if I need any help. The Warrior Women are ready, willing, and able. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know your dress is ready. Lady DeLacy said she's happy to bring it up to Cavendon tomorrow. Shall I send it with her?”

“That's a good idea, Dorothy. I can't wait to see it.”

“And I can't wait to see you wearing it, standing in front of that altar at Cavendon, marrying the love of your life.”

Cecily laughed. “I never thought I'd hear those words …
marrying the love of your life, at Cavendon.
”

“You know what Charlotte says, ‘What is meant to be is meant to be.' And she knows what she's talking about.”

Cecily said good-bye and hung up, and turned around when she heard the parlor door open.

“Can I come in?” Lady Gwendolyn asked. “And stroke the tummy?”

“You can,” Cecily answered, laughter echoing in her voice.

“I'm really only joking, my dear. But Miles has confessed to me that he loves to stroke your tummy at night. And I do understand how he feels. There's something wonderful about a new life growing.”

Walking into the parlor, Lady Gwendolyn said, “I have a wedding present for you, Ceci. And I hope you like it.” She handed a small gift-wrapped package to Cecily, and then lowered herself into a chair.

“How lovely of you, Lady Gwendolyn. Thank you.”

“
Aunt Gwendolyn,
after tomorrow, Ceci. You'll be family then.”

Cecily smiled at her again and untied the white ribbon, took the lid off a red leather box. Inside it was a small strawberry made entirely of rubies, with leaves and a stem studded with diamonds. “How unusual; it's just beautiful,” Cecily exclaimed, taking it out and looking at it.

“It was one of the gifts my late husband gave me, because I enjoyed eating strawberries and cream. I still do. He was very sweet, had such fanciful ideas. And I don't mind if you want to copy it for your jewelry collection at Harte's.”

Cecily burst out laughing, stood up, and went over to kiss the matriarch of the Inghams, whom she had always loved.

*   *   *

It was a small wedding, only family invited, and it took place at the small church on the estate at Cavendon. Cecily wore the dress she had designed to hide her condition, based on one she had made for Daphne years before.

It was in the French Empire style, with long sleeves and a high bustline, the pleated fabric dropping away into fullness at the front. Made of lavender silk, it had a matching coat. Both were calf length, and she wore a matching Juliet cap, a style she had made famous.

The four Dees insisted on being her matrons of honor, and much to her amusement they all wore blue frocks to match their eyes. It was a family joke she had always enjoyed.

Her mother, Alice, insisted she was married from their home, and Cecily agreed that this was absolutely right, very correct.

It was a March wedding, because Miles refused to wait any longer, and Cecily agreed with him. She wanted to wear his wedding ring after all these years. “And after three proposals,” she had added, winking at him.

Her brother Harry, Hugo, Paul Drummond, and James Brentwood were the ushers, as usual wearing the Yorkshire white rose from the Ingham crest, in the lapels of their morning suits. Miles asked his father to be his best man, and the sixth earl was happy to agree.

Once again, the church was warm from the paraffin stoves, and filled with beautiful flowers, when Cecily walked down the aisle on the arm of her father, Walter Swann. She felt as if she were dreaming when she finally reached the altar surrounded by the glorious stained-glass windows. It was a sunny day and colored light filtered through like a streaming rainbow.

When she had to say the words, “I do,” Cecily's voice shook slightly, because in her heart of hearts she never believed she would be married to Miles. There were too many obstacles against their union.

When his voice rang out, clear and strong in the church, her eyes filled with tears. And then he was kissing her, and holding her to him. She could hear his heart clattering against hers, which was clattering in unison.

“We're married, Ceci,” he whispered, and led her proudly down the aisle to the strains of “Here Comes the Bride.”

*   *   *

The villagers were outside, waving and cheering and throwing rose petals and confetti, which blew around in the wind. And the first person Cecily's eyes lighted on was Genevra, the Romany girl, all dressed up in one of Cecily's frocks, with a red ribbon in her hair.

“We must stop,” Cecily said to Miles, and he nodded his agreement when he saw the gypsy girl.

Genevra smiled at them, her black eyes shining, and handed Cecily a piece of paper. “A gift fer yer,” she said. “Look. Look at it.”

Cecily did. And what she saw was a square box drawn on it, with a bird sitting on top of the box. In strange wobbly writing the words said:
Swann rules.
And instantly Cecily understood, at long last. She remembered that drawing Genevra had made in the dirt with a stick so very many years ago. Staring at Genevra, she said the words, “Swann rules?” and it came out sounding like a question. Genevra inclined her head, put her hand on her own stomach. “Baby Swann rules Ingham,” she said, and blew them kisses, running off toward the fields. And Cecily understood that the box represented Cavendon Hall and the bird a swan.

They went on down the path to the sound of the villagers clapping and cheering again. Cecily said, “It's a boy. I'm carrying your heir, Miles.”

“Is that what she meant?” he asked.

“It is. And I believe her.”

*   *   *

Later that year, on a lovely sunny day in July of 1929, Cecily went into labor at Cavendon Hall. It was mandatory that an Ingham was born at the house; midwives came from the village for the birthing of the baby.

Although she was in labor for almost ten hours, Cecily didn't care. It was her child, the child Miles had given her, such a great and wonderful gift from him, like his enduring love. When the baby finally arrived, it was a boy. They called him David Charles Walter Swann Ingham, named for his great-grandfather David, the fifth earl; his grandfather Charles; and grandfather Walter, Cecily's father.

“Oh, he's so beautiful,” Miles said to her as they stood at the font in the church on the estate, on the day of his christening a few weeks later.

“Just like his father,” Cecily said. “Like father, like son.”

Miles bent closer and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Ceci. And thank God everything came out right,” he whispered. And she agreed.

*   *   *

Cecily and Miles spent a lot of time in Yorkshire for the rest of the summer. He needed to be on the estate working with his father and Harry, whose plan to rent out the farms had been highly successful. They were also supervising the repairs and the restoration of the house, which never ceased.

As for Cecily, she could work from anywhere, and was able to design a new line of jewelry, as well as accessories, shoes, and wedding gowns. Emma Harte had renewed their contract and they were still in partnership.

Cecily doted on the baby, and on Miles, and she was so happy it seemed to her that her life was perfect.

*   *   *

Hugo and Paul sat with Paul's brother Tim in Hugo's study at Cavendon. Tim had been in Paris on business, and he had brought them disturbing news when he had arrived in Yorkshire last night.

“Boom and bust. The usual story. Big speculation, irresponsible investing, putting trust in devious businessmen, stockbrokers, and the like. Big business is best, they told us. It rules the world. That's what's been happening, and there have never been any regulations on Wall Street, as you well know.” Tim sighed. “I see it coming. A Wall Street crash. And soon.”

“This is worrying, and very disturbing,” Hugo replied. “It's the nineteenth of September today. When do you expect this crash?”

“I don't know, there's so much speculation, buying stocks, reckless wheeling and dealing, selling and buying, God knows what's going to happen. But you two are all right, aren't you?” Tim glanced at his brother Paul and then at Hugo. “You got out of Wall Street.”

Paul said, “I did.”

Hugo nodded. “I sold a lot of investments and moved my money to the London Stock Exchange. I did keep some of the Ben Silver money in investments in Wall Street, but not much. Why?”

“Many other bankers agree with me that Wall Street will crash. And it will reverberate around the world. It could actually lead to a depression … a world depression.”

“Let's hope not,” Hugo said.

*   *   *

It was Friday afternoon, September 20. Everyone was enjoying the weekend. The weather was lovely. It was like an Indian summer. Cecily and Miles were sitting on the terrace when Charles came out. He looked so shocked, Cecily knew at once that something had happened. Something terrible. Charlotte followed him, and she too was chalk white, appeared nervous.

Miles rose at once, also suspecting trouble. “Has something bad happened, Papa?” he asked, then glanced at Charlotte, who had a strained expression. And fear in her eyes.

“Not bad news, Miles, catastrophic. Hugo just told me that the London Stock Exchange just crashed
officially
.”

“My God, why? What happened?” Miles cried, surprise echoing in his voice.

“It's all to do with a man called Clarence Hatry, who had been jailed for forgery and fraud. He's caused all this. Apparently the market has been unstable, severely so, for days. Periods of selling, buying, everything going crazy.”

“What does it mean to us?” Cecily asked, looking first at Miles and then at Charles.

“We have lost a great deal of money,” Charles answered.