Secrets of Cavendon

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  “I know. He was a great hit last night at dinner. He can talk about almost anything, which makes him an asset in social situations, and he’s charming.”

  Glancing at her, Cecily remarked, “You look beautiful, Alicia dear, positively glowing. It’s easy to see you’re in love with him, and he obviously adores you. Is it serious?”

  Alicia’s mouth puckered up in a smile; she put her hand in her cardigan pocket and took out the Cartier box, handed it to Cecily.

  “Oh my God, what a whopper this is!” Cecily took out the ring and put it on her finger, stretched out her hand, admiring the ring. “Wow! It’s really quite beautiful.”

  “It’s not too big, is it? Not vulgar?” Alicia asked.

  “Anybody who tells you this ring is vulgar is displaying their green-eyed jealousy. And no, it’s not a bit vulgar. Big, yes, but certainly very wearable. He’s got good taste. And why is it in your pocket and not on your finger?”

  “I wanted you to know first that we’re engaged, Ceci. And I’ll wear it tonight. Who’ll be at dinner?”

  “The same as last night, the four of us, Aunt Charlotte, Diedre, and Will. And I invited Harry and Paloma. Ten with Charlie, who’s supposed to arrive sometime today.”

  “I told Adam not to bring a dinner jacket. Miles hasn’t changed the rule my grandfather made, has he? Without telling me?”

  “No. And he won’t. The sixth earl banned it during the war, because he decided it was silly and frivolous to wear a tuxedo, get dressed up when men were dying for their country. Actually, I know all the men in the family are rather relieved they don’t have to wear one. However, I always like to wear a nice frock.”

  “And so will I. I thought Miles, as the head of the family, might wish to announce that Adam and I had just become engaged. He will, won’t he?” Alicia looked at her aunt beseechingly.

  “Of course.” Cecily sat back in the chair and stared off into the distance, her expression thoughtful. Finally she asked, “How are your parents? Is Daphne all right?”

  “Charlie spoke to our father recently and seemingly they are both well. My mother wrote a note, wished me luck, weeks ago now, when I first started the film. But they don’t know I’ve become engaged because it only happened on Thursday.”

  “Hello, Mummy, can we come in?”

  Cecily swung around at the sound of Gwen’s voice. She stood in the doorway, holding her cat, Cleopatra.

  “Yes, come and join us, darling.”

  The eight-year-old ran forward, kissed her mother on the cheek, and then her cousin.

  Alicia said, “Your little cat’s looking rather well groomed today, Gwen. Have you been brushing her again?”

  “Yes. Mummy says I have to, because that way I remove a lot of her top hairs.” Sitting down at the long table next to Cecily, she immediately noticed the diamond. “Oh Mummy, what a lovely ring! Is it new?”

  Laughing, Cecily took it off and put it back in the red box which she gave to Alicia. Smiling at her wartime baby, as she always thought of her, Cecily said, shaking her head, “Not mine. It belongs to Alicia, and she’s just become engaged. But it’s a secret until tonight, when Daddy’s going to announce it. Understand?”

  “I won’t tell anyone.” She grinned at her cousin. “I like keeping secrets. Sometimes Mummy tells me her secrets.”

  “And let’s remember they are secrets,” Cecily warned, giving her a cautionary look.

  * * *

  Christopher sat in his wheelchair in the doorway of his childhood bedroom, watching Victoria walking around it.

  She was interested in seeing everything, kept turning to look at him, making comments, smiling from time to time, enjoying herself as she discovered more about him.

  When she went over to the rocking horse, she pushed it lightly and then stopped it. Grinning at him, she suddenly threw one leg over it, got on, and started to rock. Since she was wearing trousers she was able to do this easily.

  Laughing, amused by the things she did, he began to clap.

  “I love this horse,” she cried, waving to him.

  “As I did, too,” he answered, waving back; he was filled with sudden happiness just because of her presence.

  Even when the horse had stopped rocking, she continued to sit on it for a few seconds, her eyes scanning the room once again. “It really is a boy’s Ali Baba cave of treasure,” she said. “I love your posters of airplanes. You wanted to fly even then. And the display of your toys and books on the shelves tells me so much. Oh, and the dear little teddy bear on the bed, as ragged as they all become. Does he have a name?”

  “I’m afraid not, I called him ‘Teddy,’ which was not very original. Did you have a teddy bear? Did it have a name?”

  She didn’t answer for a moment, frowning, looking odd, and then she said quietly, “Yes, I did have one. I called him ‘Cuddy,’ my version of ‘cuddles,’ because I cuddled him a lot.”

  She got off the rocking horse with agility and grace and went over to him. “Thank you for sharing this room with me, Chris. Now, do you want to take me to see the bluebell woods?”

  Although he was a little surprised at her sudden decision to leave his bedroom, he made no comment. He wheeled himself to the lift, and she followed behind him.

  Christopher could not see her face, but he knew there had been a curious change in her demeanor after the conversation about his teddy bear. She had unexpectedly appeared withdrawn and sad. He had not seen her like this before.

  On the other hand, he was pleased she had mentioned the walk to the woods. He still had certain matters to discuss with her, and he wanted everything to be talked over and decided this weekend. Being outside gave them total privacy to say anything they wanted to each other.

  When she had left his bed this morning and gone to have a bath, get ready for breakfast with him, he had given Abel Palmerston a ring. As he had promised he would.

  His neurologist had been delighted to know that his diagnosis had been accurate, and that Christopher had been able to “perform his manly duties,” as Abel called them.

  Christopher soon found Freddy, who helped him to put on a thick quilted vest over his tweed jacket without getting out of the chair. He then wrapped a thick wool car rug around Christopher’s legs. “That should do it,” Freddy said, and Christopher thanked him.

  Freddy looked over at Victoria. “It’s coolish, Miss Brown, even though it’s sunny.” He took a green Barbour jacket out of the cupboard and helped her into it, and then handed her a red woolen scarf. “You’ll need these.”

  She smiled, said, “Thank you.”

  * * *

  As usual, Victoria walked beside him. They did not speak, but their silence was compatible. It was a bright day, with a sparkle in the air and a hint of winter in the light breeze.

  “It’s better to take this main path,” Christopher said, indicating the wide dirt clearing which led into the woods. “Joe has made it smoother over the last few years, and it’s better for my chair.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to push you?” Victoria ventured, noticing the path looked bumpy, if smooth in other areas.

  To her surprise, he said, “Perhaps you should. The boys and Alex usually do that. Thanks for thinking of it.”

  “No problem.” Victoria went behind him and took hold of the wheelchair, pushing him. And pushing her sudden sorrow away. She had managed to stamp on it as a child; she must stamp on it now, not spoil this time with him because of the past.

  Christopher said, “Listen, Vicki, I’ve a confession to make—” He cut himself off, did not speak for a moment, wanting to find the right words. He finished, “I’d promised to call Abel this morning, so I did. He was very pleased. He told me he was thrilled that I’d performed my manly duties.”

  “I’ll say you did. You were so passionate we might have made a baby.” She came to a standstill, bent over him and kissed his cheek. “I want your baby, Chris, scads of your babies.”

  He heard the laughter in her
voice and understood she was back to her normal happy self. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I thought you seemed a bit sad, even sorrowful, when we left my bedroom. What happened in there?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it now, if you don’t mind. But I will tell you. Soon.”

  “Whenever you feel you can.”

  “You said this was the bluebell wood. So, where are the bluebells? Vanished overnight, have they?” she teased.

  He chuckled. “If you’re at Seamere next spring, I guarantee you’ll see carpets of blue between the trees. Will you be here?”

  “Absolutely. Hopefully. And one day pushing a pram. Not that I’d mind pushing you forever.”

  He laughed with her, then said, “You know, I wanted to ask you last night, but I was so excited and desperately longing for you, I forgot. So here goes now. Did you use a diaphragm?”

  Startled though she was for a moment, she managed to say evenly, “No, I didn’t. Because I didn’t want to … you can’t get pregnant if you have that thing inside you.”

  “I see. Then perhaps I must take precautions.”

  “I don’t think so, Chris.”

  He did not respond. Instead he told her, “In a moment this wide path branches left and right. Turn right, and we’ll come to a small clearing. There’s a seat there where you can sit, and we can look across the marsh to the sea.”

  Within a few minutes Victoria was exclaiming about the view. The woods were on even higher ground than Seamere and she could follow the flow of the land as far as the eye could see.

  “Oh, Chris, what a lovely spot this is,” Victoria exclaimed, sitting down on the iron seat. “It’s very clear today … the sea is high in the sky.” She turned to look at him and smiled.

  He took her hand in his and held it tightly. “I want to make you happy, Vicki, and keep you safe. If you don’t want us to use contraception then so be it. I shall have to do an Edward the Fourth, if you get pregnant.”

  “Agreed. You see how easy it is to solve our little problems,” she answered, sounding triumphant.

  “I want to talk about the Swanns. I still don’t think they will be overjoyed about us being together, planning to marry.”

  “You have to trust me on this, Christopher. I know them so well, and they’d never go against my wishes. Because they would want to be sure I’m happy after my terrible—” She stopped short and very abruptly, shook her head, as if annoyed with herself.

  Christopher knew she had been about to blurt something out and had just stopped herself in time. He didn’t want to force it out of her, because he respected her. She would tell him when the time was right, when she felt comfortable confiding in him.

  Scrutinizing him intently, Victoria said slowly, in a voice that shook, “I—I was—when I was a small child I was abused. My … mother abused me.”

  He simply stared at her, speechless, appalled by her words. After a long moment, he said, “I can hardly bear to think of what she might have done to you, Vicki. Never mind the reason why. You’re a beautiful woman; you must have been a most beautiful child. And why? Why?”

  “She locked me in a small cupboard when I was two, three, and four. Under the stairs. I couldn’t get out because it was latched on the outside. I was afraid. And shook a lot, and it was very hot. If I made a sound, she would hit me … punch me later, sometimes with her belt.”

  After pausing and taking several deep breaths, Victoria continued, “My grandfather was a solicitor. Well-to-do. When he died, we went to live with my grandmother at her lovely house in Headingley. My mother was afraid of her mother and so she stopped hurting me. A few years later, my grandmother had a stroke. She wasn’t able to protect me anymore.”

  Victoria unbuttoned the Barbour, pushed her hand into her jacket pocket, and found a handkerchief. After blowing her nose and wiping her tear-filled eyes, she said, “Aunt Alice saw the fading bruises when I first went to live with her and Uncle Walter.”

  “And she asked about them. And finally you had someone you could tell,” Christopher said in a low tone, filled with anger about her wicked mother, understanding Victoria’s hurt and sorrow.

  “I didn’t, actually. Once the war was over, I was so terrified of being sent back to my mother, I finally told Aunt Alice about my abuse. When she visited the Pied Piper Organization they told her my mother and grandmother were dead and my father lost at sea. So they could adopt me.”

  “Couldn’t your father have prevented her from hurting you?” Christopher asked in a low-pitched, miserable voice.

  “He was always in the Merchant Navy, not there. I never really knew him.” Unexpectedly, Victoria started to weep, and she pressed the handkerchief to her eyes, mumbling, “Sorry, so sorry, Chris.”

  He rolled his chair around the end of the garden seat so that he sat facing her, taking her hand in his. “What a horrendous thing to have happened to you, my lovely Vicki. I’m sure Alice Swann was as furious and horrified as I am now. And what you’re trying to say is that because of the unconscionable abuse you suffered as a child, they’ll let you marry whomever you wish. Is that it?”

  She nodded her head and held on to his hand and tried to smile through the tears. “And when I looked at your teddy bear, I remembered Cuddy, and how he had been a comfort to me in the cupboard. And one day, because I’d made a noise when he was there, the man, she threw Cuddy away.”

  “Oh my God, no! What on earth was this harsh, vindictive woman thinking of?”

  “The man she was with. The many men she was with in my childhood. They came and went, and she locked me up so they wouldn’t see me. Wouldn’t know I even existed.”

  He reached out his arms to her, tears in his eyes. “Come and sit on my knees, Vicki, so I can hold you. Come on, darling, please. I want to hold you tight and never let you go.”

  * * *

  That night, when Victoria went into the dining room with Christopher, his teddy bear was sitting in her seat with a blue ribbon tied around his neck. There was a card attached. She opened it, read it, and a radiant smile flooded her face. Her eyes filled with love for this most extraordinary man. The note was simple. It said:

  Dearest Victoria,

  Now we both belong to you.

  Kisses from Chris and Teddy

  “Thank you, Chris, thank you so much. I will keep you both very safe for the rest of my life,” Victoria murmured, touched by this gesture on his part, and wondering how the weekend would progress.

  * * *

  The countryside had never meant much to Adam. He was not bothered about nature and he did not like animals. The city streets were his natural habitat.

  But nonetheless, Adam Fennell paid a great deal of attention to the land he walked across on Sunday morning. He had gone out for a stroll; the weather wasn’t cold and he felt the air would do him good. Also, Alicia was still busy packing and labeling clothes for the Salvation Army.

  Thousands of acres. A great working grouse moor in fantastic condition. Money. They spelled money in capitals. And then there was the great stately home, a treasure trove of priceless paintings, objects of art, valuable antiques. There was the collection of jewels in the vaults, tons of silver, and a wine cellar bursting with vintage wines. The Inghams were one of the most important aristocratic families in England. And he was about to marry Alicia Ingham Stanton. He would live here, be amongst all this splendor.

  He thought of Jack Trotter and the Golden Horn and wondered what Jack would say about his climb up the ladder to success if he were alive.

  A smile, almost a smirk, spread across Adam’s face, and then he laughed out loud. He had learned a lot about business and other things from Jack. Rosie popped into his mind and very vividly so. She had been ten years older and had taught him everything she knew about sex and how to give a woman thundering pleasure. But otherwise he had had no other tutors. Just the publican and a barmaid. The rest he had taught himself.

  A flock of birds rose up into the blue sky, and Adam glanced at them soaring
higher. Like he was. He walked on, heading toward Cavendon Hall.

  Alicia had told him that the best shortcut into the house from the park was through the library, so he headed for the terrace that ran along the back of the house.

  As he climbed the steps, he suddenly felt the calf of his right leg knot into a cramp, and he almost fell, but managed somehow to stay upright.

  There was a wrought-iron garden seat on the terrace, standing against the wall between the two French doors. He limped over to it and sat down, began to massage his leg, quietly groaning in agony.

  A moment later he heard a noise in the library and shrank back on the seat, not wanting anyone to see him disabled in this way. What if it was Alicia?

  Someone opened one of the French doors and said, “There, that’s better. What this room needs is a little fresh air, Aunt Charlotte.”

  He recognized the voice. It was Cecily Swann, the Countess of Mowbray. Attempting to stand, to leave before he was spotted, Adam felt his left leg cramp up, cursed under his breath. He fell back on the garden seat, massaged that leg now, remembering that Max, his masseur, had told him not to forget to take potassium.

  The countess was speaking again. Adam sat up straighter, listening alertly.

  “I told Miles some of the secrets, Aunt Charlotte.”

  “That’s surprising, Ceci! What did you tell him actually?”

  “You’re not angry, are you?”

  “Of course not. Did you tell him about Marmaduke?”

  Cecily laughed. “Yes, I did. And Sarah Swann. I couldn’t resist. Anyway, I felt I ought to tell you that I had confided in him.”

  “And what else did you reveal?”

  “The story of Great-Aunt Gwendolyn. After all, she is dead.”

  “You didn’t say anything about Daphne, did you? Oh, I do hope not, Cecily. You can’t reveal anything about her troubles, not even to her brother.”

  “I didn’t. I never will. I spoke to Miles about earlier generations only. Nobody cares about them these days.”

  “People do care about the living, though. Where is that particular record book? For the years nineteen thirteen to fourteen? You’ve had them all out lately.”