Charles simply inclined his head, half smiled at Charlotte. “Thank you,” he murmured softly, and turned back to his daughter and his wife. His concern for them was apparent, as was his deep love.
* * *
Sitting at the small antique writing desk in the lavender bedroom, Charlotte used this time to refine the plans she had made in her head over the last few days. She thought they would work; she prayed they would. Once they were put into operation, she believed she and the Inghams could save Daphne, and their reputation as a family. That was her aim, and her duty. She was a Swann. And there were other Swanns to assist her.
* * *
A short while later, Daphne found Charlotte in the lavender bedroom and they went back to the sitting room together. She could tell that the Inghams were supportive of their daughter, very loving with her. Daphne was more relaxed, and looked relieved.
Once they were seated, Charles asked, “Who else knows about this situation, Charlotte?”
“The four of us, and Alice and Walter.”
“So we’re safe, it’s a secret.” He glanced at Daphne. “You haven’t told any of your sisters, have you?”
“No, Papa, I haven’t. Mrs. Alice told me that I shouldn’t … she said, ‘Tell no one. Trust no one in this house, except your parents and the Swanns.’ I listened to her, and I did as she said.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Daphne.” Turning to Charlotte, he asked, “So, what plans have you developed?”
“Maintaining the secret is the first vital rule,” Charlotte replied. “If you feel the need to talk, if you’re troubled—” She looked pointedly at Daphne and Felicity, then continued, “Talk to each other, or to Alice, or me. Try to speak in a private place where you can’t be overheard. All right? Remember, there must be no gossip about you, Daphne.”
They both nodded, and Charlotte went on. “The next thing is your demeanor. You must behave as normally as possible. All of you. Not one single person should think something is wrong or amiss. That is especially important as far as you’re concerned, Daphne. As Alice told you, please keep up that happy front.” She sat back in the chair, and paused for a second before saying, to Charles, “Your father once told me something I’ve never forgotten, and it’s this: Never show weakness, never lose face.”
Charles nodded. “He said the same thing to me, and it’s good to remember his words, and to follow his advice.”
“Now, let’s get to the pregnancy. The attack on Daphne was May the third, today is July twelfth. By my calculation that’s around two months into the pregnancy. So, for the next four months I feel certain we can conceal Daphne’s condition.”
“How is that possible?” Charles asked, raising a brow questioningly.
“Daphne will be able to wear the clothes she has now, and for quite a few weeks. During that time Alice will make some very well-cut outfits for her, that will hide her condition. Also, Daphne is tall and slender like her mother, which helps. As I recall, her ladyship didn’t show for a long time.” As she said this, Charlotte looked at Felicity for confirmation of her statement.
The countess nodded and said to Charles, “I didn’t actually show until at least six months into my pregnancies. Let’s hope Daphne is the same.”
He was silent, hoping his wife and Charlotte were right.
Charlotte leaned forward, and focused again on Felicity. “I believe Daphne can safely stay here at Cavendon through the summer season, and attend all of the events without anyone knowing a thing, your ladyship. The clothes she wears, her demeanor, and the way she’s built will all work in her favor. Don’t you think?”
“I certainly do, and it’s good that things continue in a normal way.”
For a moment Charlotte sat thinking, before finally saying, “Daphne will have to disappear at one moment, and I came up with another idea. Why not have her take a European tour? Many young women do that before becoming debutantes, and being presented to the king and queen at Court.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Felicity replied, and glanced at Charles. “Don’t you agree?”
“Yes, I do. But who will accompany her?”
“If you wish, your lordship, I could do that, act as a chaperone and companion. I do think there will come a time when Daphne must leave here, when she begins to show.”
“I would like her to do a European tour,” Charles answered, finding himself more at ease the more Charlotte talked this out with them. “How do you feel about it, darling?” he asked Daphne, smiling at her, resisting the impulse to grab hold of her, keep her close, and safe, always.
“I would like that, Papa, and anyway there aren’t many other solutions. I couldn’t live at the Mayfair house, because of the staff. So this tour sounds like the answer.” Turning to look at Charlotte, she added, “I would enjoy being with you, Miss Charlotte, and certainly it would mean I could relax. Because I would be showing by October, don’t you think?”
Charlotte nodded.
“And after the tour?” Felicity asked, eyeing Charlotte. “What is the next step?”
“Perhaps Daphne could come home to Cavendon for a couple of weeks, and then she would tell you she would like to attend a finishing school in either Paris or Switzerland. Obviously, she won’t be going to a finishing school, but she will have the proper tutors, and will learn a lot. We would be using assumed names.”
“And Daphne could come home in the new year well polished, with French on the tip of her tongue, and a bit of real Parisian chic?” Charles threw Charlotte a questioning look.
“That’s exactly what I had in mind, Lord Mowbray.”
“Where will Daphne give birth?” Charles inquired quietly.
“In a good hospital in the south of England, maybe in Kent, one of the southern counties, anyway. And again, under an assumed name.”
“And what happens to the baby?” Felicity asked in a low, troubled voice.
“That’s up to the family, but I think you have plenty of time to make a decision about adoption. I’m not sure you have any other choice,” Charlotte answered gently.
“Well, I think you’ve helped to ease our worries,” Charles said, giving Charlotte a faint smile. “We’re very grateful to you. We’ll be discussing things and making the right decisions when the time is appropriate. Now, Charlotte, won’t you join us for lunch?”
“Thank you, your lordship, but I did make an arrangement with Alice that is a bit hard to break. However, if you like, I could come to tea this afternoon. Would that be all right? I would love to see Guy.”
“That would be perfect,” Felicity said swiftly. “Aunt Gwendolyn is coming; in fact the whole family will be present. And naturally you are welcome.”
Twenty-one
Later that afternoon, Charles Ingham, the Sixth Earl of Mowbray, climbed the moors to an outcropping of giant-sized rocks. They dated as far back as the glaciers that had covered Yorkshire in the time of the Ice Age, and they were known as High Skell.
The monolithic rocks were formed in a semicircle and created a secluded and protected area. It was a place Charles had always favored since his childhood.
The weather had clouded over slightly, and as he strode toward the rocks he glanced up at the sky. Despite its leaden aspect, he knew it wouldn’t rain. He went and sat down on one of the flat stones and leaned back against a wall of rocks, closing his eyes for a moment, relaxing his taut muscles. He thought of High Skell as his private place, where he could think more clearly and sort out all of the machinations rumbling around in his head.
In this vast and desolate stretch of moorland, he found a certain tranquility, a deep sense of peace. There was nothing here but sky and moors, and the keening of the wind coming off the North Sea when the weather was inclement.
The vast emptiness was a blessing. Nothing intruded. He had only his thoughts to contend with. Here he could sort them out, find the focus to solve his problems. And so he had come up here to be alone. And to mourn.
He had been shaken to his
very core by Charlotte’s revelations a few hours ago. What had happened to his beloved daughter, his darling Daphne, had been a million-to-one chance. For a child of his to be raped on his own land was unimaginable, utterly appalling. It had broken his heart today, destroyed all of his plans and dreams for her. And her dreams as well.
She had led a quiet, sheltered life within her own family, and never been exposed to the world, and was inexperienced in every way … and then she had been assaulted in the most savage and cruel manner.
How shocked and frightened she must have been, and still was, if the truth be known. She had been courageous and strong, and that told him just how much of an Ingham she truly was. He was proud of her stoicism.
Charles sighed under his breath, thinking of the worst possible scenario. She could easily have been murdered after the rape; that man, whoever he was, could have ended up killing her to protect himself.
Every time he thought of this his mind froze at the mere idea of it, and now he pushed the thought away once more.
They were lucky she was still alive, that the rapist had not taken that ultimate step and killed her. Fortunately her facial beauty was unmarred. She had begun to recover physically, if not mentally; obviously that would take time, and she would need very special care. He and Felicity would give her all of the help she needed, as would Charlotte and Alice.
Apparently Alice had been stalwart and wise in her handling of the dreadful situation she had stumbled into accidentally, on that fateful Saturday in May. And, as it turned out, it had been most propitious for them. Alice had found out first and clamped down on it. Now they would protect Daphne, nurture her, until the baby’s birth.
And what to do about the baby? When all was said and done, the child was part Ingham, blood of his blood through Daphne. He closed his eyes, let his thoughts float.
Who had raped her? It seemed unlikely that it was a stranger, some man who had wandered onto the estate and randomly attacked her, and then fled.
When he had mentioned Julian Torbett to her, Daphne had dropped her head, looking down at her clasped hands in her lap, and she had wept. At that moment, as he now looked back, he had genuinely believed she had been acquiescing, silently naming Julian.
Julian Torbett. Charles focused his mind on the young man. He had always appeared meek, gentle, even a little wishy-washy, as Felicity put it. How would he have found the nerve to force Daphne into a sexual act?
The answer came to him quite suddenly. The meekest of men often found enormous inner strength and purpose in order to gain something they longed for. Frustration, desire, love, and lust could be forged together to become a powerful force. Had this happened on that May day? He did not know. He would never know. But it occurred to him now that Julian was the most likely candidate, the man who had done this to Daphne. Well, he was dead and buried. And that was that. They had to cope with the reality.
According to Charlotte, Daphne would be able to pick up her life in February of 1914, as if nothing had happened. If they followed the plans Charlotte had made. It would be their secret.
Daphne would come back from her sojourn in Europe, where she would have acquired lots of new knowledge about history and art; a new language, French; and that special kind of chic that was totally Parisian. She would have a new wardrobe of clothes from the best couture houses in Paris, and she would be launched as a debutante, just as they had always planned. She would be presented at Court to the king and queen, and he and Felicity would give her a coming-out ball. And she would marry the son of a duke.
Charlotte had told them everything could be fixed, and he trusted Charlotte Swann. He always had. His father had relied on her judgment for years, and so had he. Whenever he looked back, he realized how much he had depended on her in his childhood.
He knew she would not accept his lunch invitation when he had asked her earlier. That was too formal. But she would come to tea, because it was more casual. She wasn’t a servant, and she wasn’t an aristocrat, she was a loyal retainer. In between, in a sense, and she was aware of her place.
Charles took out his watch, glanced at it. Then he stood up, and walked away from the little enclave of rocks, taking the moorland path back to the house. As he did so he ran across two of the woodsmen walking together along a lower ridge, and he raised a hand, waved. They waved back.
Ever since the morning meeting with Charlotte he had fully understood why there were so many of his woodsmen roaming the property these days. Percy Swann, the head gamekeeper, had told him recently that there were rumors of poachers on the estate. That was not true. Charlotte had thrown up protection for the entire family by making sure the outside workers were everywhere. That was now patently obvious to him. He approved of her actions; the presence of his employees gave him comfort.
* * *
Walter Swann was waiting for Charles when he hurried into the dressing room adjoining his bedroom a short while later.
“I’m afraid I’m running late, Swann. Has the countess gone down for tea?”
“Yes, m’lord, about ten minutes ago. Lady Gwendolyn arrived a little earlier than expected.”
Charles nodded as Walter helped him off with his tweed jacket. “As usual,” he muttered, shaking his head knowingly. “My aunt is always afraid of missing something, hence her overdone punctuality. She’s been doing it for years.”
“Hanson gave me a message for you, m’lord. Mr. Hugo Stanton telephoned from London. Hanson gave me the number.” Walter handed Charles a piece of paper; Charles glanced at it and put it on the chest of drawers.
“I’d better get dressed first,” Charles said, walking over to the bathroom. Over his shoulder, he added, “I’ll wear a gray suit, Walter, and would you be good enough to select a suitable tie, please?”
“Right away, m’lord,” Walter replied, and went over to the wardrobe.
In the bathroom Charles washed his hands and face, and then stared at himself. He thought he looked strained, and immediately reminded himself to relax, and to behave in the most normal way. He couldn’t help wondering why Hugo was telephoning him. Hopefully he might be canceling his trip. Now that would be a bit of good news for a change. The thought of Hugo’s impending visit was upsetting, especially under the present circumstances. Any houseguest would be a nuisance at the moment. He wasn’t going to cancel Hugo’s planned visit; with luck, Hugo himself might do that.
* * *
DeLacy sat down on the small sofa next to Miles. She said, “It’s a lovely tea today, isn’t it? And Mama seems so much better.”
“That’s true,” Miles answered, glancing around the room. In the Ingham family, he was the most observant of anyone and he missed nothing. He had already made a note of his mother’s mood. She had gone from being worried and concerned about his aunt all week, to a woman who was now laughing and smiling far too much. She, who was never frivolous, now appeared to be just that. Miles frowned and glanced over at Daphne. She, too, had improved. Her demeanor was calm, she was no longer moping or looking weepy. As for his father, he was positively genial.
Extremely intelligent and clever for his age, Miles decided they were not behaving normally. He couldn’t help wondering why they were so different this afternoon. What was going on? He couldn’t even hazard a guess.
“Penny for your thoughts,” DeLacy said, nudging him. “You’re very preoccupied. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, Lacy, honestly. I was just thinking about the supper dance next Friday. I can’t say I’m looking forward to it,” he improvised.
“Oh, please, don’t be stuffy, Miles. It’s fun. And I’ll dance with you, and Diedre and Daphne will too. Then you’ll escape all those giggling girls who swoon all over you.”
“No, they don’t!” he shot back, and then blushed. “Stop teasing me. I don’t like it, and you know that. Anyway, I’m not interested in any of those silly females from the local families. I don’t understand why they’re even invited.”
“Because Mama and Papa un
derstand that they have to give a few social events in the spring and early summer. Don’t forget, we are the premier family in Yorkshire.”
“I saw Harry Swann this afternoon, and I promised him that we’d all go fishing in the Skell next Saturday,” Miles announced, moving on, changing the subject. “We can have a picnic in the bluebell woods. I know you and Ceci will enjoy it. Isn’t that a grand idea?” Miles smiled at her, wanting to be affable, and a good brother. DeLacy was his favorite sister; also, he didn’t want to arouse her suspicions about the family. He knew how curious she was, always poking her nose into everybody’s business.
DeLacy exclaimed, “That will be nice!” Her attention had been caught by the parlor maid, Peggy Swift, who was standing in the hall just outside the yellow sitting room. She was edging closer to the footman, Gordon. DeLacy had to stifle a giggle. They thought no one could see them.
To avoid the sight of the two of them flirting, DeLacy jumped up and went over to sit with Daphne. She was looking wonderful this afternoon, wearing a lime-green silk afternoon dress. DeLacy thought it must be the latest model from Mrs. Alice, and the color was perfect. “Is that a new frock?” she asked, gazing at her sister admiringly. “It really suits you, Daphne.”
“No, it’s not new. Mrs. Alice made it for me last year, I only wore it once.”
“Look at Peggy flirting with Gordon,” DeLacy whispered, catching sight of them again.
Daphne followed the direction of her gaze. “I don’t think she’s flirting, is she?” Daphne said softly, feeling the need to defend Peggy. Seeing the young woman with her baby had touched Daphne’s heart, and she had felt sorry for the girl’s predicament. “I think they’re probably checking if they should serve more food.” Daphne smiled at DeLacy. “The white evening gown looks beautiful, brand new, Lacy. Cecily did a fantastic job, created something quite extraordinary.”
DeLacy smiled back, thrilled to have this news, and thought of the ink blotches. She pushed the bad memory away, and began to talk to Daphne about the coming supper dance, and what they would wear on Saturday night.
Cavendon Hall Page 12