Secrets of Cavendon

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  “I thought she was very nice,” Victoria responded, and stopped short as Vita promptly returned pushing a tea trolley. This she left out in the corridor and brought the soup bowls in one at a time.

  “The soup’s delicious,” Victoria said, and went on between spoonfuls, “I love the colors of my suite, Alex.” And then looking at Christopher, she added, “Seamere is tranquil. So relaxing after the rush and push of London. No wonder you want to be here all the time.”

  Alex said, “Like Christopher, I can’t wait to return. There’s something addictive about this house, and all the old folktales about the marsh and its mysteries. And the Kentish countryside is so beautiful. You might like to go for a stroll in the woods tomorrow or down to the sea.”

  Before Victoria could respond, Christopher said, “Perhaps you’ll walk Victoria around the property and show her the bluebell wood, Alex. Not that they’re out at this time of year.” He glanced at Victoria. “But you’ll see them in the spring, won’t you?”

  “If I have anything to do with it, yes, and I will pick the bluebells,” she shot back, laughter in her eyes.

  He looked at her and winked, which took her by surprise.

  Vita was a good cook. Victoria realized this as she ate the fish pie, which was as delicious as Christopher had boasted. There were shrimp, cockles and mussels, strips of haddock, pieces of cod, and bits of onion and celery, all mixed together in a light creamy sauce. The fish casserole was topped by a crust made of thick mashed potatoes which had been browned in the oven.

  They talked about Kent for a short while longer, and then Christopher began to ask Alex questions regarding the progress of the veterans charity.

  Victoria listened. She also drifted with her thoughts from time to time, thinking of the advice Alicia had given her, wondering if she should act on it or not. Alicia’s suggestions had been a bit daring. What if her actions shocked him?

  When she had mentioned this possibility to Alicia she had smiled, pointed out that Christopher was more than likely a sophisticated man, not one to be easily shocked. Still, I have to think it through some more, Victoria told herself.

  Thirty-three

  “What are those bright lights flashing over there?” Victoria asked.

  She and Christopher had returned to the library after dinner, where Vita had served them coffee. Now they sat together looking out of the French doors, closed because the night had turned colder. But the fire blazed behind them and the room was very cozy and there was still a view to be seen.

  “It’s the beams from the Dungeness lighthouse,” Christopher told her. “And look to the left and you’ll see a line of twinkling lights on the coast of France. We’re very close to the English Channel, although you might not have realized that, Vicki.”

  “No, I hadn’t.” She stood up, put her face closer to the glass, and said, “Goodness, I do see the lights … they’re glittering stars.” Returning to her chair, she smiled and said, “Thank you again for inviting me here for the weekend. I’m enjoying it so much.”

  “That makes me happy. I had my reasons for wanting you to come to Seamere. Well, I told you that earlier. I must talk to you about several … serious things, Victoria, and I’d prefer to do that tonight. It’s important.” When she did not respond, he said, “Is that all right with you? It’s not that late, only about eight-thirty.”

  “Yes, of course it is. And I know the time. We did have an early dinner.” He sounded so solemn she was suddenly worried.

  “I think it might well be a long chat, so I’m going to suggest you change into something comfortable, perhaps trousers and a jumper. And unpack. During that time Freddy or Bruce will come and help me get ready for bed. That way I won’t have to disturb either of them later.”

  “Can you get into bed alone?”

  “Yes, with the crutches. No problem, don’t worry yourself about that.”

  “Shall I go and find one of them?” she asked, standing up.

  “No, that’s not necessary. I have a device in the bedroom. I press it and it buzzes them. See you in fifteen minutes. How’s that?”

  She nodded and left. His words, so serious, had triggered fears in her. Was he going to tell her something terrible? Something she didn’t want to hear? About himself? About his health? About his sexual potency?

  Pushing these dire thoughts away, she quickly unpacked her suitcase, hanging up her clothes, slipping her underwear into drawers, and then going into the bathroom to unpack her toilet bag. She washed her hands, brushed her teeth, and then her hair. In the bedroom, she took off the dress and jacket she had worn all day and hung them up.

  Victoria loved Cecily’s wide, floating trousers, and she pulled on a pair made of navy blue crepe de chine and a white silk shirt. She slipped her feet into a pair of navy pumps, preferring to wear high heels with trousers. It was important to her how she looked; she wanted to please Christopher.

  Returning to the bathroom, she stared at herself in the mirror, decided she looked presentable, and sprayed herself with Ma Griffe. Glancing at her watch, she saw that she had taken exactly twenty minutes.

  Within a second she was walking back into the library and found Christopher sitting in his wheelchair in front of the fire. He was wearing a dressing gown, and his feet were bare.

  She sat down in the chair facing him and said, “Here I am. And I’m all ears.”

  He sat studying her for a moment or two before saying in a light voice, “Don’t look so glum, I’m not going to tell you anything bad. Not too bad anyway.”

  Her hackles went up, and she exclaimed, “I knew it was going to be—”

  He cut her off. “Not bad in the way you think. I just want to talk to you very honestly, get a few things out, mull them over with you. Honestly, you’re not going to be upset by what I’m going to say. All right?”

  She was so relieved she couldn’t speak. Her throat had been choked up for the last few seconds. She simply nodded her head. Finally she relaxed in the armchair.

  “We haven’t known each other very long, you know—”

  She interrupted him when she said, “Since October the fourth and today is the twenty-first.”

  Trust a woman to know the exact date, he thought, although he was amused by her preciseness. He inclined his head. “I don’t think time matters, actually, when it comes to emotions. I believe everyone knows when they’ve met their soul mate. Don’t you agree?”

  “I do.” She took a deep breath. “Am I your soul mate?”

  “I believe you are. And what about you?”

  “I know you are. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” It took all of her control not to rush over to him and kiss him.

  “I have certain worries, Victoria. I’m not like other men; I’m disabled, for one thing.”

  “Are you telling me you can’t have an intimate relationship with me?”

  “No, I’m not because I can. In fact, I went to see my neurologist last week, and he gave me a thorough going-over. His name’s Abel Palmerston, and we’re good friends besides being doctor and patient. And Abel completely reassured me. He also told me I could father children.”

  “So there aren’t any problems. Everything is normal, isn’t it?”

  “In that sense, yes. But I worry about you, Vicki,” he said. “Worry that you might get bored with me, fed up because I’m stuck in this chair, and that you might feel obliged to stay with me because you don’t want to hurt my feelings. I wouldn’t want that.”

  Victoria sat back, her thoughts swirling around in her head. She remembered Alicia’s words, how she had told her to seduce him, to get it over with, to prove to him that he could get an erection because she, Vicki, aroused him. She had even told her what to do to make that happen.

  “I’m in love with you, Christopher,” she finally said. “And I have been since the first day I met you. Are you in love with me?”

  “I am. Very much so and from the moment you came floating into my study like something from a
wonderful dream. And we’ve told each other that, haven’t we? Without saying those exact words.”

  “We have. So why are we sitting here discussing it? Why aren’t we in your bed making love? Instead of wasting time.”

  He couldn’t help it, he started to laugh, loving her all the more for her honesty, her straightforwardness. He certainly knew where he stood with her, and this pleased him, reassured him in fact. He loathed duplicitous women, being so ethical himself.

  Victoria was fully aware that she often amused him, made him laugh, and she used that talent frequently. Now she jumped up, rushed over to him knowing that the tautness, the tension between them, was suddenly, and finally, broken. Because they had spoken out at last, admitted that they were in love with each other.

  She bent over the chair and kissed him fully on the mouth. He put his arms around her. She felt his muscles, the strength of his arms as he pulled her closer, kissed her in return and with passion.

  After a moment, she disentangled herself, and said, “Think of it this way. We’re about to have a practice run. And if it doesn’t work, it won’t matter. We can simply try again.”

  As she had known he would, he began to chuckle, and took hold of her hand, kissed her fingertips. “Thank God you came into my life, my darling girl.”

  “And I’m here to stay.”

  Christopher said, “Go to your suite and put on whatever it is you sleep in, and come back in a few minutes. I’ll be in bed, waiting for you. My bedroom is through that door.” He indicated the end of the library. “Oh, and lock the library door when you return.”

  * * *

  In her suite she changed into a flimsy chiffon nightgown and matching peignoir of a soft pale blue that was feminine, pretty, and somewhat revealing. She was following Alicia’s advice once more. Taking off her earrings and watch, she placed them on a small dressing table in the bathroom, sprayed herself with Ma Griffe yet again, and left her suite, closing the door behind her.

  When she entered the library, she saw that Christopher had turned off most of the lights. Only one burned near the fireplace, which still flamed brightly up the chimney. She locked the door, as he had instructed, and called out, “I’m back. May I come and join you?”

  “I’m waiting for you, Victoria, come on, my lovely.”

  Pushing open the bedroom door, she went in, and then stopped abruptly. The room wasn’t what she had expected. It was almost sterile, with pristine white walls, and it was empty except for a modern version of an old-fashioned brass bed, his wheelchair, and a white-painted chest under a window. His crutches were propped against a wall.

  Christopher lay on the bed, with two pillows behind his head, and she was momentarily dazzled by him. How truly handsome he was, with his thick brown hair, sparkling brown eyes, and the cleft in his chin.

  He had pulled the sheet up to his waist, but he was naked. She noticed how broad his chest was, as were his shoulders. She already knew the strength of those strong, well-muscled arms, and understood how hard Bruce and Freddy had trained him.

  Desire rushed through her, and she glided over to the bed, taking off her peignoir as she did, knowing how revealing the nightgown was.

  Christopher was unable to take his eyes off her. The shape of her full and rounded breasts, her slender hips and long legs were visible through the sheer fabric, tantalizing him. He wanted her. Now.

  She paused at the edge of the bed, pulled off the nightgown, let it fall on the floor, and climbed into bed.

  She slid over to him.

  Filled with yearning, he pulled her closer, wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. He was overcome with happiness at the feel of her silky skin, her breasts against his chest. How he loved her. He would cherish her forever, keep her safe, let no harm come to her.

  His hands roamed over her body; he bent his head, kissed her breasts. Her hands were on the nape of his neck, in his hair, and she was moaning quietly as he fondled her breasts, sucked the nipples.

  When he ran one hand down her thigh, slipped it between her legs, she trembled under his touch, arched her back.

  Victoria was soaring with ecstasy. Finally she touched him, stroked him, thrilled he was as aroused as she was. She felt wonderful, her love for him spilling out of her. He was hers. She would never let him go.

  Christopher stilled her hand all of a sudden, and said against her cheek, “Please stop. I’m too excited.”

  “I want you inside me,” she murmured.

  “I’m afraid I have to remain on my back,” he said in a low voice. With hardly any effort at all, he stretched his right arm over her body and pulled her onto him. Moving her slightly with both hands, he managed to position her where he needed her to be.

  When he entered her, she let out a small cry of pleasure, then began to move against him, knowing he could not. She kept increasing her speed until they were both soaring. They clung together and cried out with the joy of it, and when he could no longer hold back he spasmed and again cried out, and she said his name over and over. They were joined. As one. As they both knew they should be. Soul mates forever.

  * * *

  “If that was a practice run, I can’t imagine what the real thing will be like,” Christopher said against her hair.

  Victoria began to laugh. “Even better, I suppose. And I can’t tell you how thrilled I am your neurologist was right.”

  Christopher smiled to himself, thinking of how helpful Abel had been, and also a bit risqué, offering all kinds of suggestions. He said, “What are we going to do, Victoria?”

  “About what?”

  “Haven’t we just commenced a romantic liaison? Is it to be kept a secret?”

  “It’s hardly a secret here. I’m sure everyone knows I’m in your bed.”

  “So am I. And I wasn’t meaning here. I was thinking, in particular, of Alice and Walter Swann. What will they think and say when they hear about us?”

  “I’m sure they’ll be happy, if I am happy.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Christopher said, sounding doubtful. “After all, look at it from their point of view. You’re only twenty-one, just starting out in life, and here I am a war-weary chap of twenty-eight going on twenty-nine, and a disabled man at that. They won’t be as happy as you think.”

  They lay in his bed side by side, covered by the bedclothes, snuggled close together. Pushing herself up on one elbow, Victoria frowned as she looked down at him, and said, “You might be disabled, but you’re all man as far as I’m concerned. And a hell of a man at that. They’ll be fine with it.”

  “No they won’t. They’ll think you’re saddling yourself with a cripple.”

  “Please don’t say that, Christopher!” she cried, her voice rising. “They’re not like that at all. They’re not bigoted.”

  “It’s nothing to do with bigotry. It’s to do with their love for you and wanting the best for you. And you’re awfully young, darling.”

  “In numbers, yes, but not in character or intelligence. Alicia thinks I’m very grown-up for twenty-one. An adult, she calls me.”

  “I can’t argue there.”

  “The best thing you can do is sleep with me a lot and get me pregnant. Then you’d have to marry me, and that would be that.”

  “Maybe I should marry you quickly, Vicki. Do an Edward the Fourth.”

  “What’s that? An Edward the Fourth?”

  “Edward became King of England at eighteen. He was a glorious specimen. Tall, handsome, blond, and a womanizer to boot. And so his mentor, the Earl of Warwick, promised him to the King of France for his daughter, wanting a good marriage for his protégé. However, Edward met a beautiful Englishwoman called Elizabeth Wyville, and he fell in love. She wouldn’t sleep with him, so he married her in secret.”

  “And Warwick was angry and so was the King of France. You’re talking about the War of the Roses. The Plantagenets and the Tudors.”

  “Clever girl.”

  There was a silence. She leaned her head a
gainst his shoulder. “It will be all right in the long run. Life somehow takes care of itself.”

  “I suppose so.”

  She said, “I don’t want it to be a secret, Chris, honestly I don’t.”

  There was another moment of silence, and then he asked, “Why did you just call me Chris?”

  “I don’t know … I felt like it, felt like making you feel better. Why?”

  “The only person who ever called me Chris was my mother.”

  “Oh, do you mind? That I did?”

  “Don’t be silly. I love it, and you can call me anything you want. I love you, Vicki.”

  “And I love you, Chris.”

  * * *

  Victoria fell asleep not long after this conversation, but Christopher remained awake, his mind turning and twisting.

  His thoughts were about Victoria, and how to protect her until they were, in fact, married. What if she did get pregnant and something happened to him before they were a wedded couple? Who would look after her? What would she do for money?

  Well, that is easy enough, he suddenly answered himself. He would go and see his solicitor next week, once they had returned to London. He would make a new will, make sure she was a beneficiary. He simply had to protect her, and that was one easy way to do it. And he would leave Seamere and the Hampstead house to her.

  This solution made him feel better about keeping her safe. Yet at the back of his mind thoughts of the Swanns did linger. They might have many objections to him and he wouldn’t blame them. After all, she was like another daughter to them.

  On the other hand, she was twenty-one and of age. Still, he didn’t want to come between her and these two loving people who had taken her in during the war and brought her up.

  The answer came to him suddenly. He would go with her to Cavendon within the next few weeks and meet them, let them get to know him. He was a pretty decent chap, wasn’t he? Maybe they would accept him.

  He reached out and touched her tenderly, this girl he loved so much he would give his life for.

  Thirty-four

  “Everyone likes Adam,” Cecily said as she and Alicia folded clothes for the Salvation Army, sitting at the long table in the staff dining room.