Part 20 (1/2)
They were intertwined and involved in every possible way. So why would it be different in this day and age? It would always happen. They couldn't help themselves, couldn't resist each other. In fact, they didn't even try. The Ingham men were fatal to the Swann women, and vice versa.
That was why she must get Ceci away from here, when she was old enough. Miles Ingham and Cecily Swann were too bound up in each other, far too close, joined at the hip. At the moment they were too young to become intimate, but they would eventually if they weren't separated. Walter agreed with her, and so did Charlotte. It had to be done.
Handing Alice the tumbler of scotch, Charlotte sat down next to her. ”Cheers,” she said.
”Cheers,” Alice murmured, as they clinked gla.s.ses. ”I think I might need a second one of these.” She shook her head and groaned. ”I've been sewing all day. Those clothes Ceci designs for Daphne are beautiful, but they take a lot of work.”
”I realize that. They're engineered, in my opinion. I can't believe her talent, Alice, she's only twelve and yet she has an amazing ability as a designer. She's like ... a child prodigy.”
”That's right,” Alice answered, and then glanced across at the silver-framed photograph again, but made no reference to it. She went on, ”I'm glad you telephoned Dottie. In a couple of years Ceci will be old enough to go to London.”
”Yes,” Charlotte agreed, and followed her gaze, caught sight of the photograph and realized her mistake. ”I know what you're thinking. Ceci will leave here, I promise.”
”Thank you. Now, I'll have another scotch, if you don't mind.” Alice went over to pour it for herself.
Once Alice was settled in the chair again, Charlotte announced, ”I had a meeting with the earl this morning, and he gave me some interesting news. That's why I wanted to see you this evening.”
Alice looked at her alertly. ”Go on then! Tell me! Don't keep me in suspense.”
”Before Hugo left for Zurich, he went to see Charles. He told him he had fallen in love with Daphne, that he wanted permission to court her. If she was not already spoken for. He confessed to Charles that it was love at first sight.”
”So Ceci was right.” Alice beamed at Charlotte. ”And did the earl give his permission?”
”No. He said it was up to Daphne. Her decision.”
”I hope to G.o.d she says yes. It's a gift from heaven, isn't it? Hugo coming here when he did, I mean.”
”It is. And I believe Daphne is sensible enough to go along with it. She did tell me she thinks Hugo is nice, that she likes him.”
”But that's not love, is it? It's just not the same thing. You've got to want that particular man so much, you can't see straight. You must have him, be with him all the time. You must feel you can't live without him. That's being in love.” Alice stared at Charlotte, waiting for a response.
But Charlotte was silent, merely stared back at Alice, her expression enigmatic.
Finally Alice said, ”Certainly you know what I'm talking about. You wanted David so much you were crazed. And you devoted most of your life to him in the end. And from the age of seventeen.”
”True. I can't deny it.” There was a pause, a hesitation, then she added, ”But only the Swanns knew.”
”That's right. Because we protected you always. Not only you, but the earl as well. That's the reason there was never any gossip about you.” Alice took a small swig of the scotch, added, ”Listen to me, Charlotte, we've got to try and influence Daphne. Don't you think that's right? Drop hints, say nice things about Hugo.”
”Daphne's smart, rather clever in her own way, and much brighter than most people realize. She'll see through that at once. So we must be subtle, Alice.”
”Oh, I know that. There's another thing, Charlotte. Daphne might just fall in love with Hugo, without any prompting from us. After all, he's an extremely attractive man, and there's something about him that's appealing, engaging. Let's not forget he's an Ingham. And you know better than anybody what the Ingham men are like, the effect they have on women. There's just something about them.”
Charlotte smiled. ”It's called fatal charm, Alice.”
Not far from Charlotte's house in Little Skell village, down near the lake in the park at Cavendon, Peggy Swift and Gordon Lane were taking a stroll.
It was a beautiful July night, with a bright full moon floating high in the sky. It silvered the surface of the lake, spread a sheen across it.
The fact that they were in the park troubled Peggy; they were not supposed to be there. This was the private domain of the Ingham family, not like the bluebell woods and the meadows where anyone could roam.
”We're trespa.s.sing, Gordon,” she whispered at one moment. ”Hurry up and finish your cig, and then we can go back to the house.”
”What about a kiss and a canoodle, then? Am I not getting that tonight, Peg?”
”Yes, you are, but we must be quick, and I'm not going to do it, you know. Not that. Until we're married.”
”I know! I know! I'll be respectful, Miss Swift. Right up until the day you're Mrs. Lane.” He dropped his tab end and ground it into the gravel path with his foot. ”Come on, Peg, let's go into that there boathouse for a couple of minutes.”
”We'd be trespa.s.sing more than ever,” Peggy protested, always afraid of authority.
”Aw, come on, love, just for a bit,” Gordon pleaded.
Reluctantly, and against her better judgment, Peggy allowed Gordon to lead her over to the boathouse. When he turned the k.n.o.b, the door opened, and they went inside. There was no light switch, but the room was not too dark, because of the moonlight streaming in. Gordon spotted a candle stub in a saucer on the window ledge, pulled out a box of Swan Vestas, and struck a match. The candle flickered as he brought the flame to it.
”Not too bad, Peg. At least we can see a little bit. Oh, look, over there, a pile of ropes. A perfect spot to sit.”
”A bit grim,” Peggy spluttered, slightly indignant, but nonetheless, she sat down on the ropes with him.
Immediately, and as usual, Gordon was kissing her, pulling her closer, smoothing his hand over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then opening her blouse, touching her skin. He was exciting her, arousing her, as he always did, and she was floundering.
He whispered against her neck, ”I promise you, I won't force you. But can I just touch you, Peg? Please.”
”I want you to, Gordon, but I think we should leave. We're servants, we're not supposed to be in the park, never mind in the boathouse. If we're not careful, we'll get the sack.”
”It's late. Everybody's gone to bed, believe me they have. Come on, just for a few minutes.” As he spoke he gently moved her back against the pile of ropes, and lifted her skirt, began to caress the top of her leg, her thigh, and beyond.
Gordon kissed her face, found her mouth. He knew he couldn't get enough of her. But he had promised not to force her into anything against her will, and he kept his word. She was too important to him; he didn't want to lose her.
Eventually they both sat up, and Peggy whispered, ”Gordon Lane, aren't you the naughty boy! A proper little devil.”
He grinned at her. ”The devil you love, though.”
”That's the truth, my lad.” Peggy straightened her skirt, fastened her blouse, and patted her hair. At that moment the candle sputtered and died on them.
”The room's gone dark,” Peggy said in a low voice. ”I don't like the dark, Gordon.”
”I know that, love. But I can't help it. The candle went out, and the moon's gone behind a cloud. Wait a minute, I'll strike another match, and then we can find our way out of here.”
”That's a relief,” Peggy said, looking over at the window. ”It's really black outside without the light of the moon.”
Gordon struck the match, held it up. Peggy screamed. There was a man's face at the window.
”What the h.e.l.l's the matter with you?” Gordon asked.
”There's a man outside, staring through the window at us.”