Secrets of Cavendon: A gripping historical saga full of intrigue and drama. Barbara Taylor Bradford

persuaded me I should think about it.’ Miles wasn’t giving much away.

      Cecily nodded. ‘They can both afford it. James and Will are wealthy men, and Diedre still works.’

      ‘She’s always been keen to help out, and actually those two houses they live in are taxed by the government as part of the estate taxes.’

      ‘Then you have no choice,’ Cecily answered emphatically.

      Miles stood, walked over to the window and looked out at the moors. There was a prolonged silence before he finally returned and sat down with Cecily. Taking hold of her hand, he said, ‘Daphne’s departure is going to be a burden for you in some ways. I think we must discuss the problems now, get them dealt with.’

      ‘I have to be at Cavendon all the time, to run it myself now, don’t I?’ Cecily replied, detecting the seriousness in his voice.

      ‘You do, darling. You must take on the full responsibilities as chatelaine. After all, you are the Seventh Countess. And you must manage all the village events and be part of village life. The three villages.’

      ‘I have been doing quite a lot of that over these many years,’ Cecily protested, her voice rising slightly. ‘I realize Daphne always had a hand in supervising Cavendon Hall, especially when it came to keeping the room décor up to par, checking for leaks, making lists of any other tasks that needed doing. And keeping Ted and Paul Swann informed, showing them any damage.’

      ‘That’s not a difficult task, Ceci. We will ask every family member to keep an eye open for such things. I’m afraid Daphne could be overzealous about upkeep in a sense; she was always on top of the carpentry shop, pushing Paul in particular.’

      ‘I know that,’ Cecily replied. ‘Let’s not forget that Eric and Peggy haven’t left with her for Zurich.’ There was a sarcastic edge to her voice when she added, ‘They run the domestic side of Cavendon. Daphne didn’t do that any more, and hasn’t for years. Eric inherited Hanson’s mantle well. He’s a wonderful head butler, and Peggy Swift is an amazing housekeeper. I don’t think they need my hovering around them.’

      ‘That’s true. But you have spent a lot of time in London, and when it comes down to it, the Countess should be here on a regular basis.’

      ‘I’ve been in London for my business, not having a good time!’

      He took her hand in his again, squeezed it. ‘Let’s not bicker. What we have to do is make a plan, work out how you can do both—’

      Cecily interrupted him peremptorily and said in a brisk, business-like tone, ‘I shall have to learn to delegate, since I will have to run my business from here. I’ll promote Aunt Dottie and Greta Chalmers. They can do it, I’m sure. They’ll both handle more responsibility for the business well.’

      ‘And you won’t mind that?’

      ‘Of course not. I have to do what’s practical.’

      His pleasure showed on his face. He was beaming at her, and his eyes held the sparkle that had been missing for so long.

      Cecily’s heart sank. Her being here full time as Countess was what Miles wanted – and needed. But as she considered the serious problems she had with her business, the debts, the lack of money, she knew that spending less time on it could be disastrous. She was almost on the point of confiding in him, but changed her mind.

      She would not be able to give him any money for Cavendon this year. Her business was in the red. But would Cavendon survive without her contribution? She was not sure.

      Now she thought: Why spoil the weekend? I’ll talk to him on Monday, give him the bad news then.

      ‘We’d better go to lunch,’ she said, standing up, offering him a loving smile. But her heart was heavy with worry, disguise it though she did, knowing that Cavendon could go down.

       THREE

      Alicia Ingham Stanton, eldest child of Lady Daphne and Hugo Stanton, stood staring at herself in the bathroom mirror, startled by her appearance. Her blue eyes were red-rimmed, there were dark shadows underneath, and her delicate pink and white complexion had a strange greyish tint to it today.

      But she was not really surprised she looked so awful. She and Charlie had drunk far too many cognacs last night, and later sleep had eluded her. Now, at six o’clock in the morning, she felt totally exhausted.

      A small shiver ran through her as she thought of the evening she had spent with her parents and her siblings. The farewell supper at the Savoy Hotel had started out well enough, but had almost disintegrated into a huge quarrel. Knowing she was the only one who could prevent this from happening, she jumped up and threatened to leave immediately. Knowing that she always meant what she said, Charlie had backed off and their mother had instantly shut up.

      After that their father had managed to quell the imminent storm, and had reintroduced a measure of peace around them. But, for Alicia, the dinner before their parents’ departure for Zurich had been a disaster, ruined by her mother’s bitterness about Cavendon.

      Peering at her face once more, Alicia reached for a face cloth, ran ice-cold water on it, then pressed it against her cheeks. She did this several times, patted herself dry and slapped on layers of Pond’s cream.

      She was not particularly vain about her looks, but she knew she must take care of them, since she was an actress who worked in films. The camera could perform magic but it also highlighted flaws. In two weeks she was starting a new film and must look her best, be in good form.

      Once she was back in bed, she pulled the covers over her, determined to get a few hours of sleep. She was having lunch with Charlie later and knew she must be rested and alert before meeting him.

      Alicia did not blame her brother for last night’s debacle. Rather, it was her mother’s fault. Everyone had been shocked to hear Daphne’s critical comments about Cecily, including their father. Of course Charlie, as usual, had been unable to hold back, had spontaneously blurted out a heated defence of Cecily before she could stop him. As always, this verbal fight-back was like a red rag to a bull as far as her mother was concerned. He had been doing it since childhood.

      Though it was justified, Alicia now thought. Charlie was correct to defend a woman who had saved their family from catastrophe more than once. Their mother had been wrong, the attack misguided. Why on earth had Daphne spoken like that?

      Although she had not said anything to a single soul, Alicia was worried her mother was ill. She had noticed certain little things lately. A tremor in her hands at times, a hesitation when trying to remember something, an irritability Alicia had never seen displayed before.

      Did her father know the truth? Was he keeping something from them? Maybe. Hugo would never reveal a thing to his children about his wife. He loved them, she knew that, but his main priority in his life was his beautiful Daphne. He had always been her knight in shining armour. That was the way it had begun – love at first sight for him – and ever since he had been mesmerized by her beauty and charm, devoted and supportive.

      It suddenly struck Alicia that she ought to confide in Charlie, pass on her worries about their mother. She knew she must also exonerate him for speaking out; she needed to reassure him he had been correct. At the back of her mind, she was positive her brother was still harbouring that anger from last night.

      At thirty-five, Alicia was four years older than Charlie, and had been his protector since childhood, forever looking out for him. They were joined at the hip, more like twins than their siblings, Andrew and Thomas, who were twins.

      The shrill of the phone cut into her thoughts, and she reached for it. ‘Hello?’

      ‘It’s me,’ a gruff male voice growled at the other end.

      ‘Brin? Is that you?’ she exclaimed.

      ‘Who else would ring you at this ungodly hour?’