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Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2015
Copyright © Barbara Taylor Bradford 2015
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishersPublishers Ltd 2015
Cover photographs © Morgan Norman/Gallery Stock (front); Jill Battaglia/Trevillion Images (back).
Barbara Taylor Bradford asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN 9780007503261
Ebook Edition © October 2015 ISBN: 9780007503254
Version 2018-02-16
Dedication
For Bob, with all my love always
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Characters
Part One: A Family Reunion
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Part Two: Deceptions Revealed
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Part Three: Women Warriors
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Part Four: Angels in Disguise
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Acknowledgements
Keep Reading
Books by Barbara Taylor Bradford
About the Author
About the Publisher
CHARACTERS
ABOVE THE STAIRS
THE INGHAMS IN 1926
Charles Ingham, 6th Earl of Mowbray, aged 57. Owner and custodian of Cavendon Hall. Referred to as Lord Mowbray.
Felicity Ingham, his ex-wife, the former Countess of Mowbray, aged 56. An heiress in her own right through her late father, an industrialist. Now remarried to Lawrence Pierce, a noted surgeon.
THE CHILDREN OF THE EARL AND FORMER COUNTESS
Miles Ingham, heir to the earldom, aged 27. He is known as the Honourable Miles Ingham, lives at Cavendon and is learning to run the estate. Married to Clarissa Meldrew.
Lady Diedre Ingham, eldest daughter, aged 33, living in London. She works at the War Office. Single.
Lady Daphne Ingham Stanton, second daughter, aged 30. She is married to Hugo Ingham Stanton. They live in the South Wing of Cavendon with their five children.
Lady DeLacy Ingham, third daughter, aged 25, living in London. Divorced from Simon Powers, and has reverted to her maiden name.
Lady Dulcie Ingham, fourth daughter, aged 18. She lives at Cavendon.
The four girls are still referred to affectionately as the four Dees by the staff.
The children of Lady Daphne and Mr Hugo Stanton are Alicia, aged 12; Charles, aged 8½; the twins, Thomas and Andrew, aged 5, and Annabel, aged 2.
OTHER INGHAMS
Lady Lavinia Ingham Lawson, sister of the Earl, aged 53. She lives at Skelldale House, on the estate, when in Yorkshire. She is mostly in London. She is now widowed. She was married to John Edward Lawson, known as Jack.
Lady Vanessa Ingham, the spinster sister of the Earl, aged 47, who has her own private suite of rooms at Cavendon, which she uses when in Yorkshire. She spends most of her time in London.
Lady Gwendolyn Ingham Baildon, the widowed aunt of the Earl, aged 86, who resides at Little Skell Manor on the estate. She was married to the late Paul Baildon.
The Honourable Hugo Ingham Stanton, first cousin of the Earl, aged 45. He is the nephew of Lady Gwendolyn, the sister of his late mother, Lady Evelyne Ingham Stanton. He is married to Lady Daphne.
BETWEEN STAIRS
THE SECOND FAMILY: THE SWANNS
The Swann family has been in service to the Ingham family for over one hundred and seventy years. Consequently, their lives have been intertwined in many different ways. Generations of Swanns have lived in Little Skell village, adjoining Cavendon Park, and still do. The present-day Swanns are as devoted and loyal to the Inghams as their forebears were, and would defend any member of the family with their lives. The Inghams trust them implicitly, and vice versa.
THE SWANNS IN 1926
Walter Swann, valet to the Earl, aged 48. Head of the Swann family.
Alice Swann, his wife, aged 45. A clever seamstress who takes care of the clothes and makes outfits for Lady Daphne and her daughters.
Harry, son, aged 28. A former apprentice landscape gardener at Cavendon Hall; he is now learning estate management and works with Miles Ingham.
Cecily, daughter, aged 25. She lives and works in London, where she has become a famous fashion designer, with three shops.
OTHER SWANNS
Percy, younger brother of Walter, aged 45. Head gamekeeper at Cavendon.
Edna, wife of Percy, aged 46. Does occasional work at Cavendon.
Joe, their son, aged 25. Works with his father as a gamekeeper.
Bill, first cousin of Walter, aged 40. Head landscape gardener at Cavendon. He is widowed.
Ted, first cousin of Walter, aged 51. Head of interior maintenance and carpentry at Cavendon. Widowed.
Paul, son of Ted, aged 27, working with his father as an interior designer and carpenter at Cavendon.
Eric, brother of Ted, first cousin of Walter, aged 46. Butler at the London house of Lord Mowbray. Single.
Laura, sister of Ted, first cousin of Walter, aged 39. Housekeeper at the London house of Lord Mowbray. Single.
Charlotte, aunt of Walter and Percy, aged 58. Retired from service at Cavendon. Charlotte is the matriarch of the Swann family. She is treated with great respect by everyone, and with a certain deference by the Inghams. Charlotte was the secretary and personal assistant to David Ingham, the 5th Earl, until his death.
Dorothy Pinkerton, née Swann, aged 43, cousin of Charlotte and the Swanns. She lives in London and is married to Howard Pinkerton, a Scotland Yard detective. She works with Cecily at Cecily Swann Couture.
CHARACTERS BELOW STAIRS
Mr Henry Hanson, Butler
Mrs Agnes Thwaites, Housekeeper
Miss Susie Jackson, Cook (niece of Nell, who has retired)
Mr Gordon Lane, Head footman
Mr Ian Melrose, Second footman
Miss Jessie Phelps, Head housemaid
Miss Pam Willis, Second housemaid
Miss Connie Layton, Third housemaid
Mr Tim Hartley, Chauffeur
OTHER EMPLOYEES
Miss Margaret Cotton, the nanny for Lady Daphne’s children, usually addressed as Nanny or Nan.
Miss Nancy Pettigrew, the governess, usually addressed as Miss Pettigrew. The governess is not at Cavendon in the summer. The children are not in school.
THE OUTDOOR WORKERS
A stately home such as Cavendon Hall, with thousands of acres of land, and a huge grouse moor, employs local people. This is its purpose for being, as well as providing a private home for a great family. It offers employment to the local villagers, and also land for local tenant farmers. The villages surrounding Cavendon were built by various earls of Mowbray to provide housing for their workers; churches and schools were also built, as well as post offices and small shops at later dates. The villages around Cavendon are Little Skell, Mowbray and High Clough.
There are a number of outside workers: a head gamekeeper and five additional gamekeepers; beaters and flankers who work when the grouse season starts and the Guns arrive at Cavendon to shoot. Other outdoor workers include woodsmen, who take care of the surrounding woods for shooting in the lowlands at certain times of the year. The gardens are cared for by a head landscape gardener, and five other gardeners working under him.
The grouse season starts in August, on the Glorious Twelfth, as it is called. It finishes in December. The partridge season begins in September. Duck and wild fowl are shot at this time. Pheasant shooting starts on 1 November and goes on until December. The men who come to shoot are usually aristocrats, and always referred to as the Guns, i.e., the men using the gun.
PART ONE
A Family Reunion
July 1926
‘The little world of childhood with its familiar surroundings is a model of the greater world. The more intensively the family has stamped its character upon the child, the more it will tend to feel and see its earlier miniature world again in the bigger world of adult life.’
Carl Jung, The Theory of Psychoanalysis (1913)
ONE
Cecily Swann knew it well, this path. She had walked it all of her life, and it was an old familiar. Lifting her head, she looked up at the grand house towering above her on top of the hill. Cavendon Hall. One of the great stately homes of England, it was the finest of all in Yorkshire.
The house was her destination this morning, as it had been so often when she was growing up. Her parents and her brother Harry lived in Little Skell village, at the edge of Cavendon Park, just as their ancestors had done. For over one hundred and seventy years, in fact.
It was a lovely Friday morning in the middle of July, and there was no hint of rain today. The sunshine streamed down, bathing the house in that crystalline northern light which gave the exterior its soft, peculiar sheen at different times of day.
Cecily glanced about as she walked on. She had half expected to see Genevra loitering here. But there was no sign of the gypsy girl. The Romany wagons were visible on the hill at the far end of the fields; Genevra’s family still lived on the 6th Earl’s land – that was a given. He had always permitted it; she supposed they would stay there forever.
But so much else had changed. Cavendon Hall looked the same, but it wasn’t what it used to be. It was a different place; in fact, many things were different now. The Great War had changed everything. And everyone. As her father, Walter, was forever saying, the good old days were over, and nothing would ever be the same again. And his words were only too true.
Thankfully, her father and her brother had come back safely from the Great War, but Guy Ingham, the heir to the Mowbray earldom, had not. He had died for his country fighting in France, and was buried there alongside his comrades in arms.
They had all mourned him, every person in the three villages around Cavendon, as well as his family. Not because he was the heir, but because he had been one of the nicest of young men. Now it was Miles who would one day inherit the earldom and everything that this entailed.
Miles Ingham.
Her heart tightened at the thought of him. He had been her constant companion throughout her childhood, her best friend and later her sweetheart. She had loved him with all of her being; she still did. And he had told her many times that he felt the same, and that one day they would be married. But that had not happened.
Miles had been forced to marry another girl. A suitable girl. Clarissa Meldrew, the daughter of Lord Meldrew. The right kind of girl, who would give Miles an aristocratic heir. That was the way it was with the gentry: future heirs dominated their lives and their destinies.
Cecily came to a stop as a sudden thought struck her. After a moment, she veered to her left and headed in the direction of the rose garden. She needed a few moments to think, and anyway she was too early for her meeting.
A few seconds later, she was pulling open the heavy oak door and going down the steps. It was a fragrant spot, this old walled garden, filled with the scent of late-blooming roses. She breathed in the heady smell as she sat down on a wrought-iron garden seat. This spot had always been a haven of peace and beauty.
Holding herself completely still, she closed her eyes, wondering why she had agreed to do this – to help Miles manage the events planned by the Earl for the family reunion. It was probably the most stupid thing she had ever done in her life.
Only if you are stupid, she told herself. Obviously Aunt Charlotte thinks you are capable of handling a difficult situation, or she wouldn’t have asked you to help out.
Her aunt’s voice echoed in her mind as she went back to the discussion they’d had a week ago. She remembered her aunt’s words very well. ‘Lady Daphne is the only one capable of managing the weekend with Miles, but she has so much on her hands, what with running Cavendon and five children underfoot. I personally would appreciate it if you would help him, Ceci.’
She thought now of the way she had tried to wriggle out of it, not liking the idea at all. She had muttered something about one of his other sisters being better at that job. But her aunt had batted her objections away with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘There might be difficulties, Ceci, and we need someone strong like you. Someone who can be tough, if needs be.’
Well, she could be tough, she knew that. But mostly she would have to be tough with herself. And with Miles Ingham.
She had not had a conversation with him for the last six years. They’d spoken, the odd times they had run into each other, here at Cavendon, or waved, but that was all. Six years ago she had vowed never to let him near her again, and her aunt had nodded her approval when she had confided in Charlotte.
‘I’ll walk alone and devote myself to my career as a fashion designer,’ Cecily had said, and Charlotte had looked pleased, and relieved. Unexpectedly, Charlotte had asked her to help Miles out now, and it puzzled Cecily. Actually she had no choice.
Cecily sighed, and sat up straighter. She owed Charlotte Swann everything. It was her aunt who had backed her fashion business, presented her with her first shop in the Burlington Arcade, made her career possible. And it was Charlotte’s money which had originally funded the venture. They became business partners, and they still were, and worked extremely well together.
She trusts me to handle myself correctly, Cecily decided. She knows I won’t succumb to his charms, become involved with him on a personal level. She understands that the pain he caused me runs far too deep. Besides, she’s fully aware I’m devoted to my business, that it’s my life.
Standing up, Cecily walked out of the rose garden, and went on up the hill towards the house. She felt better. She could handle Miles Ingham. She wasn’t afraid of him. She wasn’t afraid of anyone, for that matter.
In the past six years she had learned to be truly independent, to stand on her own two feet, and to make her own decisions. Furthermore, she was a big success. Women loved her clothes; they bought them by the cartload. And not only in London, but in America as well. Already, she had made two trips to New York, and her name was well known on both sides of the Atlantic.
Miles had his problems. And so did Cavendon.
Her future was full of brightness and challenge, and – with a little luck – even more success. Miles Ingham was part of the past. Her eyes were focused on the future.
She would help him out this weekend, and then she would go back to London and get on with her work, and leave Miles to his own devices. There was no place in her life for him. She would never forget that day, six years ago, when he had told her he was getting married to another woman. He had broken her heart, and she would never forgive him.
TWO
Miles Ingham bent down, picked up the small pieces of cork, and placed them on the mantelshelf, next to the carriage clock. Only Miss Charlotte knew how to properly wedge them behind the two horse paintings by George Stubbs, so that they would not slip. She had been doing it for years, and no one else had managed to master the technique.
Turning, he walked over to his father’s desk and sat down, staring at the list he had made earlier. All were points he wanted to take up with Cecily, regarding the next few days.
Cecily Swann.
He longed to see her, to talk to her, to just be near her. And yet, at the same time, he dreaded it. For years she had been merely civil to him whenever they ran into each other here at Cavendon.
Her demeanour had been so remote, so cold, he had been unable to breach those icy walls she had erected around herself. She had frozen him out, and he fully understood why. He had hurt her immeasurably, and the hurt had never healed. It was an open wound.
This now presented a problem, since they did have to be cordial with each other for several days in order to carry off this unusual family reunion. He had realized, the other day, that he must come up with a modus operandi, and it had to be one she found acceptable.
Sighing to himself, he jumped up, suddenly overcome by nerves. He paced up and down the library, attempting to get a grip on his flaring emotions. She would be arriving at any moment, and he had no words ready, nothing formulated in his mind, no greeting prepared for her. He was also at a loss about the days ahead, and how they would manage them.
There had been a moment last week when he’d begun to wish his father hadn’t decided to invite the family home for a weekend visit.
On the other hand, there hadn’t been any parties or get-togethers at Cavendon for the longest time. Nothing to celebrate, what with the family’s money problems, the loss in the Great War of men who had worked their land, the scandal surrounding his mother, which they all tried to ignore. And then there was DeLacy’s worrying depression about her divorce, not to mention Hugo’s huge financial losses on the New York Stock Exchange.
And what a mess his own life was. Miles was acutely aware that he had no life, actually. He had grown to detest Clarissa, who, he had swiftly understood, was dense beyond words, a spendthrift whose only conversation was about clothes, cosmetics and jewels. All of which bored him. And she was a gossip. She loved to talk about her friends, and she wasn’t always nice about them. He despised her for her mean comments about other women.
He had also come to dislike her father, Lord Meldrew. He overindulged his only child, giving Clarissa anything her heart desired. That in itself had created a rift between them; he loathed spoiled women, and she was particularly greedy.
Miles had long accepted that he was saddled with a dud of a wife; and, worst of all, one who had been unable to conceive.
He was still without that much-longed-for heir. Not only had she proved to be barren but, much to his dismay, she had soon developed an aversion to Cavendon Hall, and would not come to Yorkshire.
‘Not a country girl at heart,’ she had informed him, fairly early on in their marriage. What marriage? he now wondered, and strode over to the window, gazing out across the terrace, looking towards the park.