The Cavendon Women Read online

  Daphne couldn’t hide her shock. “But how can that be? Only you have the key!”

  “That is true, and it was in its designated place. I took it, opened the main vault, went to a safe, took out a case, and found a pair of earrings missing. Diamond earrings. I looked in several other cases, and they were empty. I was in shock, Daphne. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

  “Please, Papa, let us go down there at once. And we had better check all of the jewel cases. Don’t you agree?”

  “I do indeed. I was so upset I just rushed up here without doing that.”

  “Do you think somebody knew where the key was? Took it, went down there, let’s say during the night, and made off with pieces?”

  “How can I say? Who would know where the main key is kept?”

  “Have you mentioned this to Hanson?”

  The earl shook his head. “I came straight up here, looking for you. Let’s go, Daphne, and bring a piece of paper and a pencil with you. We’d better make a list of everything that’s missing. How unfortunate I discovered this now, with all the things we have going these next few days.”

  * * *

  Although there was a silver vault on the kitchen level, which contained pieces used all the time, there were other, older vaults on the floor below, in the lower cellars. These vaults had been built by Humphrey Ingham, the First Earl of Mowbray. He had planned them with the architects, when the house was being built in the 1700s. They were cavernous, and not only housed a huge collection of jewelry, but also all of the most important and valuable pieces of silver made by the great master silversmiths of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.

  As they hurried down the lower staircase, Daphne asked, “When was the last time you were in the jewelry vaults, Papa?”

  “Not recently, that’s a certainty. We haven’t been having parties, so no one thought of taking jewels out to wear. I’m puzzled, I truly am, but we must solve this mystery and reclaim the pieces. My father, my grandfather, and my great-grandfather always called these vaults our safety net. The pieces were bought for investment purposes, as well as to be worn and shown off. A lot were bought by the first earl, Humphrey Ingham, when he was a trader in the West Indies, and in India. He purchased diamonds from the famous Golconda mines, and those pieces are unique.”

  When they arrived at the iron door, Charles unlocked it, stepped inside the huge vault, and turned on the light. “It’s a good thing my father put electricity in down here, otherwise where would we be today?”

  “Putting it in ourselves,” Daphne muttered, and followed her father over to one of the larger safes; it sat against a wall at the far end of the vault.

  Charles opened the safe, and lifted out a worn, red leather case. “There were diamond earrings in this. From Cartier, and as you can see, it’s empty. This other one held a single strand of diamonds, also from Cartier.”

  Daphne nodded, and reached into the safe herself. Her fingers curled around a blue leather box, stamped with gold edging, and as she took it out she said, “This is the brooch I wore at my wedding, Papa.”

  “I’m afraid not, darling; that one is empty too.”

  “I can’t believe it!” she cried, and lifted the lid. “It is empty, and it was one of my favorite pieces. I wore it on my wedding dress, and then later Mama wore it at the dinner we had in January of 1914, after Alicia was born—” Daphne cut herself off, swung to face her father, and cried, “I know who took the jewels.”

  Charles stared at her, frowning. “Are you about to point a finger at your mother?”

  “I most certainly am, Papa! She was the last person seen wearing the diamond bow brooch.” Placing the empty jewel case on the table standing in the middle of the room, Daphne looked in the safe again, and pulled out two more cases. “In here should be a small diamond-and-ruby tiara, and in this one a matching diamond-and-ruby bracelet.”

  When she opened them, she nodded. “Papa, she took these pieces, I know she did. They were her favorites, and so were the Marmaduke pearls. They’re in the other safe, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, they are. We’d best investigate, ascertain what’s missing from there.”

  The pearls, dating back to the eighteenth century, were highly valuable, and had been treasured by the Inghams over the centuries. They were large, and had been carefully matched in a strand of opera length, long and elegant. The single string was so precious it was hard to appraise. Daphne had come to believe the pearls were priceless, and if auctioned they would go for a lot of money.

  The box was heavy, and she knew at once the pearls were safe, that they were inside. When she lifted the lid, she nodded, smiled in relief. “At least she didn’t grab these, Papa.”

  “I knew they were here. Pearls have to be taken out from time to time, sort of … well, allowed to breathe. And I’ve taken the box upstairs quite frequently, for that reason,” Charles explained.

  “I just know Mama took the other jewels. She knew where the key was; nobody else did, except for me, and Miles. And we didn’t steal them. She did it. Your former wife and my mother, and I am going to get every single piece back from her. She’s met her match in me. I won’t rest until the Ingham jewels are back in their rightful place.”

  “How are you going to do that, Daphne? And how are you going to prove she has the jewels? Your mother will never admit she took something she shouldn’t have from Cavendon.”

  Daphne was silent for a moment or two, and then she confided, “I have an ally. Someone who will help me. I know that for an absolute certainty, Papa.”

  He frowned, and there was a sudden look of concern settling in his blue eyes. “And who is that? Who is going to help you?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you, Papa. It’s not that I don’t trust you, because obviously I do. You are my father, and very moral, my moral compass, and I am acting on your behalf. Nonetheless, I simply can’t tell you. At least not now. When I’ve done it, and given the jewels back to you, I will explain everything.”

  Charles let out a deep sigh. “When are you planning to confront Felicity?”

  “In the next few weeks, when you are away. And I shall force her to hand them over. Obviously we cannot take any steps right now. Nevertheless, I have no worries. She can’t possibly sell them, not ever.”

  “That is correct. We would know immediately if they went on the market.”

  “So, let’s lock these safes, and the vaults, and forget about the missing jewels for the next few days. And I will make the list next week and check every box in all the safes, I promise.”

  “It is a little worrisome,” Charles murmured, and closed the safe door.

  “I know it is, Papa, but we must not let this problem affect the … family reunion. It wouldn’t be fair, would it?”

  “No, it wouldn’t. As usual, you are making perfect sense, Daphne. Whatever would I do without you?”

  Five

  There was no doubt in Daphne’s mind that the moment her father had seen the empty cases, he had known who had taken the jewels. But he had waited for her to make that very obvious connection.

  Daphne sat back in the chair in the conservatory, thinking about her mother, a woman who had changed so drastically she seemed like a stranger. Daphne blamed Lawrence Pierce. It was his fault. He had been a bad influence on Felicity, and no doubt he still was.

  She sighed to herself. There was nothing much any of them could do about their mother. She was married to Pierce and, seemingly, he ruled the roost, as Miles so aptly put it. Her mother had created a scandal when she had run off to be with the surgeon in London. But somehow her father and the family had managed to weather it all, and their standing was still intact. Anyway, almost every family they knew was having some problem or other, whether marital or financial.

  It seemed inconceivable to her that their mother had just pocketed the jewelry, as if it were her own, and gone off to London to join her lover, without giving it another thought. Not about the jewelry she was taking, which was not
hers to take. Or the children she was leaving behind. That had happened twelve years ago.

  Little Dulcie had been only six, and baby Alicia, her mother’s first grandchild, was not even one year old at the time.

  But Felicity’s children had managed. They’d not only had each other, they had had their extraordinary father, a very unique and loving man, who was the personification of decency, and was always there for them.

  And she herself had also had her darling Hugo, and their first child. And all the Swanns. Whatever would they have done without the Swanns. Most especially Charlotte.

  Normally, Daphne would have run straight to Charlotte today, to tell her about the missing jewels, and ask for her help. But she could not do that. Charlotte had her hands full, and she didn’t need this worry to cope with.

  Closing her eyes, Daphne focused on the stolen jewels, wondering what she could do. She had told her father she had a plan, but she didn’t really. Her only thought was to go to London to confront Felicity.

  But her mother would deny having the jewels, wouldn’t she? Obviously that would be Felicity’s only course. And how could she prove otherwise, without ransacking her mother’s house? That wasn’t a possibility, under any circumstance. She did have an ally, as she had told her father. That at least was the truth. But just how much could that ally do?

  What she really needed was a reason to invite herself to tea with her mother. But it would have to be a genuinely good reason, because they had all shunned her, more or less, over the years.

  “There you are, my darling,” Hugo said, interrupting her whirling thoughts as he came striding into the conservatory, at forty-five as handsome as ever. Daphne swung around in her chair, beaming at him.

  Bending forward, her husband kissed her on the cheek, and sat down. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said. “Good news from New York to impart at last! I just heard from Paul Drummond, and he’s finally managed to sell those old factory lofts I bought in downtown Manhattan, near the Meatpacking District. And for an excellent price. The money can be put to good use here at Cavendon.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful news, Hugo!” Daphne exclaimed, her eyes filling with love for him. He was doing his best to help keep Cavendon afloat, which was drowning in taxes and other problems. She and Hugo stood right behind her father, helping to prop everything up. She was very happy that the strained look had left his face this afternoon.

  She now said, “Papa will be grateful, and so am I. You do so much, we can never thank you enough.” She paused for a moment, and then added softly, “It will certainly give Papa a lift. He discovered something quite awful today.”

  “What on earth happened?” Hugo asked, leaning closer, peering at her, knowing it was a serious matter. There was a certain kind of disquiet about her, which was not like her at all. She was usually ebullient and positive, whatever problems she faced.

  “Papa went down to the big vault, to get something or other out, and he discovered there were quite a few pieces of jewelry missing. Obviously, he knew at once that my mother had taken them—”

  “Who else?” Hugo interrupted in a terse voice. “Only a countess of Mowbray knows the hiding place for the key. If I remember correctly, that is the ancient rule followed by the Inghams for generations.”

  “Yes. And the butler always knows too where the key is. But I can assure you, Hanson hasn’t stolen diamond earrings to give to his lady love.”

  “Does he have one?” Hugo asked, and couldn’t help laughing despite the gravity of this matter.

  Daphne laughed with him, and then went on, “I told Papa not to worry about the missing pieces, that whilst he was away I would get them back.”

  “And how do you plan to do that?” Hugo asked, a brow lifting. “Are you going to take Felicity on, and demand their return?”

  He shook his head, stared at her intently, before saying, in a low tone, “You know, you would be accusing her of stealing, since they are actually the property of the Earl of Mowbray, her former husband. I don’t think your mother will take very kindly to that sort of accusation, my darling.”

  “You’re absolutely right, Hugo, she won’t; I’m well aware of that. But I must confront her. I’ve no alternative. And I do have an ally.”

  “Ally or not, I shall come with you to London. I’ll certainly not allow you to go alone, under the circumstances. Not to Felicity’s house. Lawrence Pierce may well be there and I don’t think you want to end up doing battle with him.” His glance was long, and speculative. “And who is your ally, may I ask?”

  “I will tell you, Hugo, but it is in confidence. I didn’t say who it is to Papa.”

  “I shall not tell a single soul, I promise.”

  “It’s Wilson.”

  A knowing look crossed Hugo’s face, and he nodded. “Of course it’s Wilson. Olive has a very soft spot for you. She always has, and I don’t believe your mother is her favorite at the present time. On the other hand, your mother pays her extremely well, so why would she jeopardize her job?”

  “Because soon she’ll be working for me, as my lady’s maid. In a few months. She finds the situation untenable at Charles Street, and confided in me that she was going to give Mama her notice. And she has. She told Mama she wanted to retire. Felicity made a fuss, didn’t want to let her go, but Olive was adamant, very determined. The point is, when she confided in me I asked her to come to Cavendon when she was available.”

  “I see,” Hugo murmured, and sat back in his chair, wondering what Wilson’s wages would be.

  As if reading his mind, Daphne swiftly said, “You mustn’t worry about the cost, Hugo. I shall pay Wilson myself. I have my trust, and I plan to use some of that to pay her salary.”

  “When does Wilson plan to retire, so to speak? And then come here?” he asked, thinking that Felicity would not like this turn of events.

  “Not until September. So there’s plenty of time to deal with my mother, regarding the jewels.”

  “Whatever your mother says, I know that Wilson will tell you the truth. That is why you’re calling her your ally, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Hugo. Wilson helps my mother to dress every day. She’s in charge of her clothes, and, presumably, her jewels.” She stared at him, and added quickly, “I know that look on your face, Hugo. You think Wilson should’ve told me before … about the jewels. But you see, Olive Wilson doesn’t know that they’re not Mama’s, not her own personal possessions.”

  “She has no idea they’re family heirlooms?” he asked, sounding skeptical.

  “How could she? My grandfather was a wealthy industrialist, and I’m quite sure Wilson thinks my mother’s jewels were given to her by him. Or by my father. There’s no way she would know that the jewels Mama wears must remain in the care of the current earl, that they aren’t actually hers to keep, only on loan.”

  “You make sense, darling,” Hugo murmured, and stood up. “I’d better go back to the annex for a short while; I’ll see you at teatime.”

  “Oh no, no, Hugo, you must come to the little gathering Papa is having in the library, at three-thirty. Just the girls, Miles, and you. I know your presence is important to him. You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

  “It did slip my mind, but I shall be there,” he answered, going over to kiss her cheek.

  She moved her head slightly, and, as he bent forward, her face was bathed in the sunlight streaming in through the window. He was instantly struck by her loveliness this afternoon. At thirty, Daphne was at the height of her beauty. Thirteen years, he thought. It didn’t seem possible that they had been married almost that long.

  As his lips brushed her cheek, and he squeezed her shoulder affectionately, he thought of their children. Genevra’s prediction had come true … the gypsy girl had foretold that Daphne would bear five children. And she had. They were Inghams through and through, beautiful girls and handsome boys, who were each unique. He smiled inwardly … every parent believed that, didn’t they? And he was no exception
to the rule. He loved them dearly and spoiled them atrociously. But why not. Along with Daphne, they were his life.

  * * *

  Walking back to the annex, Hugo’s thoughts were still with Daphne. What a truly wonderful woman she had become over the years. She had helped her father run Cavendon, and done it well. He smiled inwardly when he pictured his wife being “the general in charge,” as she called herself. Some general, indeed. She was still beautiful, glamorous really, with her abundant golden hair a soft halo around her lovely face. No chic 1920s crop for her, and those glorious eyes were as blue as ever, her skin clear and perfect. I’ve been lucky, so very lucky, he reminded himself. We both have good health and we’re still in love. Miraculous.

  Six

  Diedre stood in the middle of her bedroom, slowly turning, her eyes resting on some of her favorite things. The large antique silver mirror standing on her dressing table, given to her when she was a little girl by her mother; the collection of lace pillows on her bed, made for her by Mrs. Alice; and the tortoiseshell-and-silver brushes, comb, and mirror set, a gift from her father for her sixteenth birthday.

  All were beloved things, just as this room, which had always been hers, was one of the most special places in the world to her. She had missed it, and as she walked forward to sit down at her small Georgian desk, she felt unexpected tears welling in her eyes.

  No one had kept her away from Cavendon; she had just not come, and that was of her own volition. She had not been home because she had been in a state of grief for a long time, and she had not wanted anyone to witness it.

  Her grief for the person she had loved the most in her entire life was extremely personal, and therefore absolutely private. And since she was not able to talk about it, at least not coherently, there was no one who could give her comfort. Except, perhaps, her father, who was the most compassionate and sympathetic of men.

  Brushing away her tears, Diedre sat down at the mahogany desk and immediately felt truly at ease. Her sister DeLacy loved fancy, frilly bedrooms, whilst she had usually had her eye on the best desks at Cavendon, had often rummaged around in the attics, looking for hidden treasures, mostly amongst the fine antiques.