Secrets of Cavendon

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  Cecily smiled to herself as she took the small notebook out of her pocket and flipped to one page in particular.

  A cat, she thought. A cat for my little wartime baby. How happy she will be.

  Twenty minutes later the butler returned. “Lady Charlotte asked me to take her boxes upstairs to her parlor, m’lady, and she would like you to join her there, if you don’t mind.”

  “That’s not a problem,” Cecily answered, slipping the notebook into her pocket. She walked out of the room with Eric, giving him a few more details about the dinner that night and lunch tomorrow.

  * * *

  “I was thinking it might be a good idea to sell these pieces,” Aunt Charlotte said, indicating the jewelry boxes open on the low table in front of the sofa. “I would give the money they fetch to Miles, to help with next year’s taxes.”

  “No, no, that’s not necessary, Aunt Charlotte,” Cecily said swiftly. “However, it is very, very kind of you to offer to help Miles. Such a thoughtful thing. Thank you so much for being unselfish, being prepared to give up jewels you love.”

  “I don’t wear these things very often, and even if I sell them or give them away now, I do still have quite a lot left, you know.”

  Cecily smiled at her, and looked down at the pieces. “They’re all lovely, exquisite, Aunt Charlotte.”

  Sitting back against the sofa, stretching her legs, Aunt Charlotte said, “Long ago I picked out these pearls for you, Ceci. They were given to me by Miles’s grandfather David for my twenty-first birthday, and I’ve worn them for years. I always loved them, and still do. But they’re for you, and I want you to take them now. Today. Because they shouldn’t be sitting in a box in a vault. It’s important that pearls are worn. They need air and light.”

  Lifting the three strands of pearls out of the box, Aunt Charlotte held them up to the light. “Just look how lustrous they are, absolutely beautiful.”

  Leaning forward, she handed them to Cecily, who also held them up to the light. She was about to say thanks but no thanks, then instantly changed her mind. Aunt Charlotte genuinely wanted her to have them, so why not accept them now, and with grace? It might appear churlish otherwise.

  “How can I refuse, Aunt Charlotte? I will take the pearls, because they belonged to you, and were given to you by an Ingham. And we’re both Inghams now … I shall treasure them always. Thank you for such a lovely gift.”

  “You’ve made an old lady very happy,” Aunt Charlotte said, smiling up at Cecily. “And look at this, a tiny silver arrow pin, with a few aquamarines along the shaft. I thought I would give this to Gwen, either today or tomorrow. I’ve had it since I was eighteen.”

  “Oh goodness! How sweet of you, but I think she’s a bit young for a real piece of jewelry. She is only eight,” Cecily protested.

  “Do let me give it to her, and I will tell her she can only wear it on Sundays. How’s that?”

  Cecily laughed, and laid the three-strand pearl necklace in its box. “I’ll make a deal with you, Aunt Charlotte.”

  “Oh dear, Ceci, you and your deals! I’ve never known anyone like you.”

  “Come on. Be a good sport. Make the deal, let’s shake on it.”

  “You haven’t said what the deal is,” Aunt Charlotte pointed out.

  “I’ll allow you to give Gwen the brooch today or tomorrow, whenever you wish, but you also have to give her a cat.”

  “Goodness me, a cat! Where on earth would I find a cat?” Aunt Charlotte was staring at her in astonishment.

  “I think I’ll be the one getting the cat, well, the kitten, and any day now. I just want you to say it’s a gift from you to Gwen. Miles won’t dare object … because you’re you.”

  “He doesn’t want her to have a cat? That’s it, right?”

  “Yes. He says animals are not meant to be in the house. He’s afraid she’ll have the cat with her all the time, and that it might even sleep on her bed, God forbid. He’s really serious about this, so the cat, if he lets her keep it because it’s from you, will have to live in the kitchen most of the time. Although I’m hoping I can persuade him to let her take the cat to the old nursery, where she usually plays. I’ll explain it will sleep in the kitchen near the warm stove.”

  Stretching out her hand, Aunt Charlotte said, “It’s a deal, Ceci. Shake on it.”

  They both laughed and then Cecily said, “I was looking for you today because I really do want to speak to you about something quite important. The record books. At least a few of them. There’s a lot of inflammatory stuff in them. Dynamite stuff.”

  Sixteen

  Charlotte Swann Ingham gazed at Cecily Swann Ingham, thinking how elegant Ceci looked. They were the only two Swann women to marry into the aristocratic Ingham family, even though many Swann women had been romantically involved with Ingham men over the centuries.

  The record books revealed this indirectly. Other things were glaringly obvious to anyone who bothered to dig into the record books, and went back time after time to probe some more and put two and two together to make eight.

  Settling herself comfortably on the sofa, the dowager countess said, “Dynamite? Inflammatory? Well, yes, you’re right, in a sense. They were exactly that when they were happening, but that was about a hundred and eighty-odd years ago. Very frankly, Ceci, I don’t think anyone gives a fig about those things today.”

  “I agree with you, Aunt Charlotte, probably only me, because now I’m the keeper of the Swann records, and I suppose I’m curious about my ancestry. Also I’m really intrigued by James Swann. I know he worked with Humphrey Ingham most of his life, traveled with him, helped him to make deals, and was a sort of personal assistant. Their relationship was obviously very close. But what I also think is that it was really James who was responsible for so much that happened here, that Cavendon became what it is today because of him, as well as Humphrey, the first earl.”

  When Aunt Charlotte was silent, Cecily continued, “In many ways you have an advantage over me, because you also have access to the Ingham papers.”

  “That’s true. I worked for David Ingham, the fifth earl, for twenty years. And I wasn’t at all surprised to discover that the Inghams kept records as well as the Swanns. I did tell you they were available to you, any time you wished to look at them.”

  “I know you did.” Cecily laughed as she said this, added, “Until very recently, I wasn’t here all the time. I was in London, and I never really had a free moment to go browsing into the past.”

  “And now you do?” Charlotte raised a brow quizzically.

  “Not exactly, but I have been peeking into the record books now and then. I have a few questions … will you answer them if you can? Then I won’t have to keep digging.”

  “Of course I will. It’s quite a complicated story, though.”

  “We’ve plenty of time to chat,” Cecily answered. “Miles canceled afternoon tea today, as I’m sure you know, because of the photographic shoot, and he and Harry are extremely busy working on a special project anyway.”

  Charlotte nodded. “We can always ask Eric to bring a pot of tea and some scones up here, if you should feel peckish. So go ahead. Ask me any question that comes to mind, and I’ll do my best. You certainly know I will tell you the truth as I know it to be.”

  “Was Marmaduke Ingham, Humphrey’s first son and heir, illegitimate?” Cecily’s eyes rested on Charlotte, her gaze intense, penetrating.

  “Actually, he was,” Charlotte said without hesitation. “But Humphrey was Marmaduke’s biological father, and he was born at Cavendon Hall. James saw to that. And he was brought up by Humphrey. Moreover, there was never any question about his legitimacy. He was the heir.”

  “Why was that? How do you know?”

  “There is a strange paper, a sort of birth certificate in the Ingham papers, it looks … doctored, shall we say? Humphrey is listed as the father, and his first wife, Marie, is listed as the mother. I don’t think it would stand up to much scrutiny nowadays, mind you,” Ch
arlotte finished, shaking her head. “Humphrey and James had a way of manipulating things to their advantage, it seems to me. They managed to get away with everything they did.”

  “But how was that possible?” Cecily frowned. “Were they so very clever? So brilliant?”

  “I think they were, yes, but let’s look back to those times. Cavendon Hall was finished in 1761. Whilst it was being built, the park was being created, and James was managing the plans for Little Skell village. A local builder was hired to create the main street with cottages on both sides, and James personally overlooked the erection of the church. What I’m trying to explain is that there weren’t many people around when Humphrey was moving into the West Wing, and James and his family were settling into the East Wing, which Humphrey had insisted on. Basically, there were only a few house servants and a cook to begin with, along with a number of outdoor workers. Once the cottages were finished, they were able to hire new people to work in the hall and on the estate.”

  “There are quite a few references to that particular period of time in the Swann records, as you know. It always strikes me how scrupulous James was about his notes, Aunt Charlotte.”

  “Yes, he was. He had many talents, I believe.”

  Cecily sat back in the chair, a reflective expression settling on her face. Eventually she said, “So they got away with anything they wanted to do, because there was no one in higher authority to challenge them or question them. Actually, they were the ones in charge. It was their own little fiefdom. They ruled the roost. Certainly servants aren’t going to risk losing their jobs by speaking out of turn. Although they probably gossiped amongst themselves.”

  “Quite true, Cecily. And you’re correct about the fiefdom. Humphrey had been elevated to the peerage some years before, and was lord of the manor and an extremely rich man by then. He had gone to London at sixteen and made his fortune when he was young.”

  “In my opinion, James saw to everything, ran everything. He and Humphrey were practically joined at the hip, if you ask me, and they were partners in many different things. Including providing an heir, apparently.”

  Aunt Charlotte sat up straighter on the sofa, and her scrutiny was fixed as she stared at Cecily. She remained silent, waiting to hear what Cecily would say next.

  There was a long pause before Cecily asked in a low voice, “So who was the mother of Marmaduke? Before you answer that, let me tell you what I think. It was Sarah Swann Caxton, wasn’t it?”

  “Very clever of you to work it out, Ceci, since James was so very careful. And Humphrey, too. She was a young widow with a daughter and a son, Eleanor and Gordon. She lived with James, his wife, Anne, and their two boys, Edward and Walter, in the East Wing.”

  “So, was she pressed into doing a favor? Or was it something like droit du seigneur? In other words, unavoidable? Or was she his mistress?”

  “No, not the right of the lord to have any woman he wanted. Nor a favor. She was indeed his mistress and she had had an earlier child by Humphrey, a girl called Elizabeth, who was also acknowledged by Humphrey and lived with him and the countess.”

  “So Sarah loved him, obviously. And I think perhaps he was easy to fall in love with, from what I’ve found out about him. He was in his prime then, around forty, good-looking, rich, titled, her brother’s mentor, employer, and best friend. A perfect pick. What say you, Aunt Charlotte?”

  “I agree, and it’s a well-known fact that women did fall all over him, and all over James, our ancestor. They were what you and I might call ‘lady-killers’ today. Probably on the prowl when they were on their international travels. Yet not bad men. Rather nice men.”

  “Let’s get back to Countess Marie. I know she died and that she was buried in a plot of ground near the woods, which became the cemetery thereafter, and is still the cemetery today. James doesn’t mention her much either, in the Swann record books.”

  “Esther Ingham, Humphrey’s mother, wrote to him constantly, and often referred to Marie. She didn’t like her, and she was brutally honest about her. He kept the letters, by the way. They are amongst the Ingham papers, a bundle tied with scarlet-and-blue ribbon, if you’re interested.”

  “I prefer you to tell me about Marie, since you’ve read the letters, and what his mother said about her.”

  “Humphrey married her before he was a peer of the realm, by the way. He was Esther’s second son and her favorite, she adored him. And what did he do as a second son? He went off to London, like Dick Whittington, to make his fortune. And that he did. Then he went and married an older woman, Marie Kingsley, his first wife. She was a great heiress. Her father was the cotton king of Lancashire and she was his only child, and he left her an immense fortune, which went to Humphrey on her death. By the way, she was older than Humphrey by seven years, and not particularly pretty, according to his mother. Esther also predicted she would never conceive, and she didn’t.”

  “So he married for money, eh?” Cecily began to laugh. “Nothing changes much, does it? We’re still just like the Romans.”

  Nodding in agreement, Charlotte also chuckled and said, “Humphrey must have seen something more than money in Marie, because he was rich in his own right. Probably she had sexual allure. In a letter James wrote to Humphrey, he remarks about Marie’s provocative sexuality. His words, by the way.”

  “So Marie had hidden charms, apparently. Why did she put up with two illegitimate children obviously foisted on her by Humphrey? Because she never conceived? Never gave him a child? Guilt, perhaps? Or because she loved him so much?”

  “I can’t answer that, but perhaps the latter. He was an unusually charismatic man, apparently.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Eric popped his head into the room. “Excuse me, Lady Mowbray, but I thought you and the dowager countess might like some sort of refreshment.”

  “How thoughtful of you, Eric,” Cecily said. “I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea and perhaps a few scones, and I think Lady Charlotte will have the same.”

  “I certainly will, thank you, Eric. You must have read my mind.”

  He inclined his head with a small smile and departed.

  Cecily said, “I was just going to ring for him. He must have read my mind, as well as yours, from the kitchen. So to continue … Humphrey was a charismatic man and Marie loved him so she mothered his children.”

  “Not quite, Ceci. Marie died before Marmaduke was born. A month before, in fact, and in London, where she had gone with Humphrey to see doctors. They discovered she had a malignant tumor in her stomach. It had caused her stomach to swell, to protrude so much some people thought she was finally pregnant. She died before they could even attempt to treat her.”

  “What fantastic timing!” Cecily exclaimed. “Voilà! Now there’s a little boy, an heir at last, and his poor mother has just died. That’s how it was played, I bet.”

  “You sound a little acerbic, Cecily, but there was no way either James Swann or Humphrey Ingham could have planned that. It was what you said, all to do with curious timing. As a gambler might say, it was the luck of the draw. Although from what I’ve put together, I do think Humphrey cared for Marie and was saddened by her death.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Cecily agreed, and then went on, “So who was the second wife? Obviously he needed one, and he did marry again. That I know.”

  “That’s right. I believe that Sarah Swann Caxton was his one true love, but he could not marry her because she was not an aristocrat. Not that he started out as one, but after the service he gave to his country and for all he did for his country, he was honored with an earldom. He bought thousands of acres in the Dales and built a stately home, which was designed by two great architects, John Carr of York and Robert Adam. And he created a village that gave people homes, and work at the hall and on the estate.”

  “With gardens by Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown,” Cecily said. “And he needed a real countess to reign over this pile. I can’t help thinking James probably found one for him.”


  Aunt Charlotte burst out laughing. “That’s just a guess on your part, because there’s nothing in the Swann records about that. But you are correct. James did indeed find him just the right woman. One who needed a husband fast, wanted to please, and was attractive.”

  “Who was she? All I know is her name. Wasn’t she called Helen Lester Latham?”

  “That’s right, she was. In fact she was already titled. She was the Dowager Countess of Latham when James met her. The late earl’s second wife, and much younger than he had been, about thirty-three. Because of the law of primogeniture, the earl’s eldest son inherited everything. The young man was kind enough to allow his young stepmother to live at his stately home, but she was impecunious. The late earl hadn’t left her much. The important thing was she accepted Humphrey’s children, took rather a fancy to Humphrey, and agreed to anything he wanted. According to Humphrey’s mother, he had made a good choice. She approved of Helen, and so wrote in a letter to her son. It’s still in the Ingham papers.”

  “So James Swann brokered yet another deal for his great friend, Humphrey Ingham, and that’s why, amongst other things, we must always have swans on the lake James built at Cavendon.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Eric came in with Peggy, both of them carrying tea trays. And the conversation was curtailed.

  * * *

  The two women enjoyed their tea and scones with clotted Cornish cream and strawberry jam, and as they ate they talked about general things and Victoria’s photo shoot.

  It was only later, after Eric had removed the tea trays, that they returned to their discussion about the Swanns and the Inghams in the eighteenth century.

  It was Cecily who started it up once more, when she said, “So the Dowager Countess of Latham needed Humphrey, and he was desperate for an aristocratic woman like her. Who better than Helen? She knew how to run a great house, handle staff and all the things a matriarch does on a daily basis. And she was very available.”