Part 27 (2/2)
The following morning, Daphne went to see Charlotte, who was now working for the earl in the office annex next to the stable block.
Bundled up in a warm coat and rain boots, Daphne glanced around as she made her way to the building. It had rained during the night, and the slush and melting snow had been washed away. The sun was s.h.i.+ning, and even though it was cold, it was a nice day. The sky was blue, and the sun brightened the day.
More like March at last than the dead of winter, Daphne thought as she made her way along the path. Soon the daffodils will be blooming, as they should be.
”Lady Daphne!” Charlotte exclaimed, sounding surprised when Daphne walked into her office. ”How lovely to see you. Good morning.” She stood up, smiling.
”Morning, Miss Charlotte. I wonder if you can spare me a few minutes? There's something I need to talk to you about.”
”Of course, please do sit down,” Charlotte answered.
Glancing around, Daphne said, ”I know that the estate staff are in the offices across the hall, and perhaps we ought to go out for a few minutes. Do you mind?”
”No, I don't, let me put my coat on.” Charlotte was struggling into a heavy wool overcoat a moment later, and the two women went outside.
”Let's walk down to the stables,” Daphne suggested. ”I'd like to see Greensleeves.”
Charlotte nodded and said, as they moved from the building, ”You want to talk about something ... sensitive, shall we say?”
”I do, yes.” Daphne immediately launched into the story of Peggy Swift and Gordon Lane, and repeated everything Peggy had told her yesterday.
She finished, ”They're afraid of being sacked, because they broke the rule and went strolling around at night. They don't want Hanson's wrath coming down on them for being outside, when they should have been asleep. Peggy begged me not to tell anyone, and I did promise. Although I warned her I must talk to you.”
”It's a strange story, Lady Daphne. You know there are a lot of estate workers in the grounds these days, but obviously they're not out late at night. Do you think we should have some of them patrolling after dark? Is that what you're saying?”
Daphne shook her head, answered vehemently, ”No, not at all! I think that would really alarm everyone. It's not necessary, actually, because the staff are inside, to my knowledge.” Daphne was silent, before adding, ”I trust Peggy. She's down-to-earth, not at all imaginative. I'm certain she was telling me the truth.”
”I agree. And why would she invent something like that?” Charlotte gave Daphne a pointed look, and asked, ”I a.s.sume this was happening last summer, wasn't it? After you had been ... a.s.saulted in the bluebell woods.”
”Yes, but I knew my attacker,” Daphne was quick to respond. ”And he's dead. So what shall we do?”
”Nothing,” Charlotte answered in a firm tone. ”I can't ask Percy Swann to put men out at night. He'll tell the earl, and how would I explain it without breaking Peggy's confidence?”
”I understand.” Daphne was thoughtful as they went down to the stable yard, heading toward the stalls. ”Perhaps you could just ask him to make sure the men are patrolling during the day.”
”They're doing that already, Lady Daphne, and have been for months.” Charlotte fell silent, wondering who could be loitering on the estate, and watching people. It didn't make sense.
Daphne went up to the stall, and Greensleeves moved toward her, whinnying, and she patted her, stroked her head. She had loved this horse since the first moment she had seen her, and suddenly her thoughts rushed back to the fire. ”What a lucky escape Greensleeves had,” Daphne remarked, looking at Charlotte. ”I mean in the fire.”
”Yes, indeed she did. Listen to me, Lady Daphne, I think what we ought to do is to say nothing. We should simply keep quiet. Apparently these incidents happened last summer, some time ago now. Just warn Peggy Swift not to go strolling with Gordon Lane late at night. Say that if she does, you'll have to tell Hanson everything.”
”You're right, Miss Charlotte, and I don't really have any other choice, do I?”
”I'm afraid not. But do rest a.s.sured that there are plenty of estate workers out and about during the day.”
”I know. I see them all the time.”
Together the two women walked back to the office annex. On the way there, Daphne shared the news about the countess's improved health, and then with a laugh, she added, ”It's all because of Baby. I'm sure of that, and Mama agreed. We also agreed to stop calling the baby Baby, because Mama thinks it will stick.”
”And then she'll hate us all when she grows up,” Charlotte murmured, also laughing. ”So Alicia it is from now on.”
Forty-six.
Alicia Felicity Gwendolyn Charlotte Ingham Stanton, a little baby with a very long name, was the star attraction at Cavendon Hall these days. Everyone wanted to see her, touch her, even hold her, although none of that actually happened.
Family and friends were only ever allowed to view her, and Nurse Willis made sure they did not break her rules. Daphne had been so taken with Jane Willis she had asked her to stay on permanently at Cavendon.
The Norland-trained baby nurse usually gave her ”new baby” only six weeks, and then moved on to a new family. But she broke her rule for Alicia. Like everyone else, she had been captivated by this gorgeous infant with bright blue eyes, blond tufts of silky hair, and a peaches-and-cream complexion. All inherited from her mother.
Like Daphne, she had a sweet disposition, was a baby who rarely cried, forever smiled, chortled, and laughed.
Her parents and grandparents doted on her, as did her aunts. Except for Diedre, of course, who was always mumbling to herself that too much fuss was being made over ”just a baby.” For the last few months Diedre had been absent from Cavendon. She was traveling in Europe with her friend Maxine Lowe, an heiress of great wealth. Dulcie, in particular, was pleased she was away.
Dulcie adored Alicia and was forever making her small gifts; lavender sachets, cut-out paper tulips colored red and yellow, and ribbon bows for her tufts of blond hair. And DeLacy was truly proud when Daphne allowed her and Cecily to push the Silver Cross pram up and down the terrace.
DeLacy was doing that on this Sunday afternoon in May. The weather was lovely, and the rain clouds of earlier had blown away. DeLacy pushed the pram carefully, leaning forward, cooing to the baby, smiling and talking to her. The child simply laughed and kicked her chubby little legs in the air, as contented as always.
Daphne was seated at the round table with Jill Handelsman, who, with her husband, Marty, had been guests at Cavendon for the weekend. The two women were finis.h.i.+ng their coffee before the Handelsmans took their leave. They were being driven to Harrogate by Gregg, and would take a late-afternoon train to London.
Daphne liked them, and she was impressed with Jill's business ac.u.men, appreciative of the way she had swiftly found a nice office for Hugo, and had it up and running within a couple of weeks. He went to London twice a month, for a couple of days, and always returned singing Jill's praises. Hugo felt he had everything under control because of her help.
After a few moments of silence, Jill said, ”I want to thank you again for arranging for me to see Cavendon's collection of antique silver. Your father was most gracious and informative.”
”Hugo told me you collected Regency and Georgian silver, Jill, and I knew you would enjoy seeing the Paul Storr pieces.”
”I did, especially those gorgeous candlesticks, which were made in 1815. I have always admired his work. He was one of the great master silversmiths, wasn't he?”
”He was. I reminded Papa to show you the impressive silver bowl, that Queen Anne monteith by William Denny. He was another of the great English silversmiths, a century before Storr.”
”I know. I made a note of that later. The monteith was crafted in 1702, your father told me. The earl is very knowledgeable about silver, probably more than anyone I've ever met.”
Daphne smiled. ”And just about everything else at Cavendon. My father considers himself the custodian of all this...” Daphne paused, swept out an arm, added, ”The house, all of its contents, the land, the grouse moor. Everything as far as the eye can see. He always says he's keeping it intact, and in perfect condition, for the next generation, and generations after that. As for his knowledge, this was pa.s.sed down from his father, the fifth earl, and Papa will pa.s.s it on to Guy ... that's how it works. Father to son, the next heir, and so on-”
”Here we are!” Hugo exclaimed, interrupting Daphne, walking onto the terrace with Marty. ”I'm afraid I've got to break this up, ladies. Gregg is waiting at the front with the Rolls-Royce, to whisk you off to the railway station.”
Later that afternoon, as they were walking from the South Wing to the yellow sitting room in the East Wing, for afternoon tea, Daphne suddenly stopped and took hold of Hugo's arm.
He also came to a standstill, and looked at her. ”What is it?”
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