Secrets of Cavendon: A gripping historical saga full of intrigue and drama

‘Two are already here,’ Cecily answered. ‘And quite right, Eric, the South Wing has always been Lady Daphne’s home since she married Mr Hugo, and their children grew up there. We must welcome them always.’

After discussing the menus, wines and activities for the next few days, Cecily left Eric to go about his duties. She took the back staircase up to the bedroom floor, and walked along the corridor to Diedre’s bedroom, not used since Diedre had moved to Skelldale House with her husband Will Lawson and her son Robin. Cecily was due to have a cup of tea with Aunt Charlotte but had taken a quick diversion.

She hesitated for a moment before going in, and then took a deep breath and did so. Eric had arranged the paintings around the room, propped up against chairs, the desk, and a chest of drawers. Several had been placed on a sheet on top of the bed.

The one which instantly caught her eye was the portrait of DeLacy which Travers had painted years ago, commissioned by Lawrence Pierce to give to DeLacy’s mother one Christmas before the war.

It leaned against the legs of a chair, and Cecily went to it immediately, picked it up and placed it on the chair.

She stepped back to view the painting, and her heart missed a beat. She caught her breath in surprise. It was so lifelike; it seemed as if DeLacy were sitting right there in front of her. The painting was magnificent. Travers had captured something unique in DeLacy, a delicate beauty, a certain fragility, and yet her bright blue eyes sparkled with life and energy.

This painting of DeLacy had hung in the former Countess’s sitting room in her house in London. After her death, the Four Dees had not taken very many of their mother’s possessions, since they were all estranged from her.

Now Cecily remembered how DeLacy had asked her sisters if she could have the painting of herself. It was one of the last paintings ever executed by Travers Merton, and of course, they had said she could.

Cecily felt a cold chill running through her and shivered involuntarily. Goose flesh sprang up on the back of her neck and her arms; memories of that horrendous night were suddenly at the front of her mind.

The night Travers had died in his studio, with DeLacy beside him in his bed. Not understanding at first that he was dead, she had called Cecily for help. Cecily, in turn, had phoned Eric. They had gone together to rescue her from the scene, recognizing from DeLacy’s hysterics that something was wrong.

They had been flummoxed, not known what to do. Finally they had phoned Uncle Howard at Scotland Yard, who had come to their rescue, taken the matter into his hands, and dealt with the problem.

For a few moments, Cecily was totally mesmerized by the painting, and then she went over to the chair, picked it up and took it down the corridor to their upstairs sitting room.

Last night she had mentioned the large box of paintings in the attic to Miles. In their pain and misery after DeLacy’s death in the war, Miles and Cecily had been far too beleaguered and grief-stricken to even think about her possessions, most of which had been brought from DeLacy’s flat in Mayfair and stored in the attic at Cavendon. Where they had remained untouched, until now.

Once Cecily was in the sitting room, she moved a large blue and white vase from a chest, and put DeLacy’s portrait in its place. Then she took several books, and placed them in front of the painting to stop it from sliding.

There you are, my darling Lacy, she said under her breath. Now I can see your face every day for the rest of my life, my lovely.

SEVEN (#ulink_bdcb3e51-2262-529b-9939-f6f78e161351)

‘I wish you had confided in me, Ceci,’ Aunt Charlotte said, her voice growing more sympathetic as she added, ‘you’ve obviously been going through an awful time with all your many worries – on every level, unfortunately.’

Leaning back in the armchair, Cecily made a moue. ‘It’s been hellish, to be honest.’

‘I can just imagine. But remember what Churchill said, in reference to that. “If you are going through hell, keep going.” It does work, you know.’

Laughing, Cecily nodded, remarked, ‘He also had another saying which I’ve always loved. KBO. Which stands for “keep buggering on”. And that’s what I’ve tried to do. But I am glad we had the meeting with Dottie and Greta this morning. They are very dedicated to the business. And it’s given me more incentive than ever.’

‘I know that.’ Getting up, Charlotte walked over to the window, looking out at the park for a few moments, lost in her thoughts.

They were in Charlotte’s upstairs parlour, a small room that Cecily had always liked. It was restful, tastefully decorated in soft green velvet and silk fabrics at the windows and on the loveseat and chairs, with a dark rose carpet on the floor. She knew that many of Charlotte’s favourite things were gathered together here, meaningful mementos of her life, and photographs of loved ones, mostly Inghams when they were children. There were also pictures of her and other Swanns. With no children of her own, the extended family was her family; all her nephews and nieces, both Swann and Ingham.

Turning around, Charlotte caught Cecily unawares and noted the oddest look on her face. She asked quickly, ‘What is it? You seem puzzled. Or bemused? You’re wearing a very strange expression.’

‘Am I? Well, I was just thinking how much your life has been tied up with Cavendon. And with two of its earls … How you stepped in and helped to bring up Dulcie, looked after all of them really, when Felicity ran off.’

‘What else could I do? I loved them, you see – the Four Dees. And I loved their father, although no one knew that at the time, except me.’

‘You’ve been the protector and mainstay of this family, and in so many different ways. We all owe you a lot, Aunt Charlotte,’ Cecily said, her voice full of sincerity.

‘Nobody owes me anything, except perhaps to be courteous, and hear me out when I’ve something compelling or important to say.’

‘That’s absolutely true. Do you now need to tell me something?’

‘Not especially, Ceci dear. It’s just when I was gazing out at the park I thought how beautiful it was and so well worth saving. But Miles must do that. Not you.’

‘He is trying, you must know that. However, he does have a huge task.’ Cecily blew out air and sat up straighter. ‘We have income from some investments, and from the house and garden tours, and the shops and café. But that money pays the wages of staff and helpers.’

‘I realize that. Look, I want to talk to Miles about the taxes. I think I have a plan that will help him.’ As she spoke, Charlotte walked across the room. Cecily couldn’t help thinking how well she looked today, more like a woman in her early seventies than her eighties.

Sitting down, Charlotte explained, ‘If Miles agrees, I am going to introduce him to Leslie Parrish, the managing director of my bank in Harrogate. I believe Parrish will give Miles a loan for the taxes, if I become the guarantor. I thought of it as we were listening to Greta and Dottie, when we were drinking our lemonade outside.’

‘It’s wonderful of you to suggest this, Aunt Charlotte. I’m not sure Miles will agree, though. You know how proud he is.’

‘He can’t afford to be proud at this particular moment in time! He needs help. And it isn’t coming from you. Not ever again, in fact. I won’t permit it. As it is, you’ve worked miracles for this family.’

‘If Miles says he’ll meet Mr Parrish, will he agree, do you think?’ Cecily asked swiftly, a brow lifting.

‘Well, yes, I believe he would. Because we’ve got some financial backup now, possibilities of making real money.’

‘What do you mean?’ Cecily sounded surprised.

‘All the new ideas. The wine auction, for one thing. There is a good point I’ll make to Miles. It’s this. Half that stock might have turned already, because we’ve had it for years. So now is the time to rescue what’s left. There is also the idea of tycoons from America, and anywhere else for that matter, coming to shoot and paying for it. Let’s turn privilege into profit. That is going to be my motto from now on. And he might have to sell one or two paintings from the Long Gallery.’

‘You may find it a hard task to convince him. Miles has never wanted to let any of the art go to auction,’ Cecily pointed out. ‘His father didn’t want to do that either. You know that better than anyone else, Aunt Charlotte.’

‘Yes, I do know. And the Ingham men can be very stubborn. Let me see if I can persuade Miles.

‘Now, about Greta and her offering to be a partner,’ she went on. ‘I think you might wish to think about this seriously. It would help you, give you start-again money, and be an incentive to her, having a stake in your business, I mean. Here’s a point. I don’t want Dottie to feel slighted. She might want a stake too. So, if you agree to take Greta into Swann, as we’re going to call it, then you must invite Dottie to be a partner as well. Give her the option … she might well refuse. I am not sure they would have that kind of money, but I think you should offer.’

‘Yes, I see what you’re getting at. But don’t you think I ought to be free of debt before taking their money? If they want to give it to me, of course.’

‘I do, indeed. And I would like to suggest the following. I will pay off half your debt over the next six months, on a monthly basis, which will satisfy the bank, I’m sure. But I—’

‘No! I won’t let you take this on! It’s not fair to you, and you’ve done so much for me in the past,’ Cecily exclaimed, her voice rising in protest.

‘Here’s the thing. It’s money I would be leaving you in my will,’ Charlotte pointed out. ‘So let me finish my point. I know you still have the collection of Ingham jewellery you bought from Charles in the late 1920s, the collection you based your copies on. You do, don’t you?’

‘Yes. It’s here in the vault. Why do you ask?’

‘Put it up for auction. Get money for it, in order to pay off the other half of your debt. You don’t need the collection any longer, since it’s now available in your fake collection of Cavendon jewels that you sell around the world.’

Cecily began to laugh, filling up with mirth in a way she had not done in a long time. As she continued to chuckle, she wondered why she had never thought of that herself. A mind clouded by worry, she thought, which has blocked me lately.

Charlotte laughed with her, and finally Cecily sputtered, ‘Only you would think of a jewellery auction, Aunt Charlotte.’

‘And you can make it sound very enticing, exciting. Now you can have the real thing, that sort of selling point,’ Charlotte said. ‘And I know the head of Bonhams Auction House, and I will introduce you to him.’