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

is right, there are more Swanns than Inghams at Cavendon at the moment, Cecily thought as she walked slowly back to the house.

      Miles was the only born Ingham in residence with his sisters gone: Lady Daphne to Zurich, Lady Dulcie to Los Angeles, and Lady Diedre to France. Aunt Charlotte and she were Inghams by marriage, and her four children were half Ingham, half Swann.

      Cecily had great belief in Genevra, knew she had the sight. Her predictions had usually been correct over the years. So she would go to Eric Swann, her father’s first cousin. Now head butler at Cavendon, he had worked for them all his life. His sister Laura had, too, and it had been Laura who had died with DeLacy at the South Street house when it was hit by a flying bomb in the war.

      But it was Percy Swann she ran into a few seconds later, as she came up the dirt path leading to the house.

      ‘Good morning, Your Ladyship,’ Percy said. Like all the other Swanns, he always addressed her formally. Head gamekeeper at Cavendon, he was her father’s younger brother.

      ‘Morning, Percy,’ she said, smiling at him. He was one of her favourites, and a mine of information about the estate. ‘How’s the grouse moor doing?’

      Beaming at her, Percy exclaimed, ‘Never been better, thriving. We’ve kept it in good shape all through the winter, coaxed it along, treated it well, coddled it really. Birds’ll be good in August.’

      ‘That’s wonderful news,’ Cecily said. ‘Congratulations. I know how valuable the grouse moor is to the estate, and I’m glad you and Joe are in charge. I hear we have some Guns coming for the Glorious Twelfth.’

      ‘That’s correct, m’lady.’ Percy took a step closer, and said in a low voice, ‘This is just a tip, to use if you can. Tell His Lordship that many other stately homes with grouse moors are making money out of them. Inviting people to shoot, but charging them.’

      Cecily gaped at him. ‘Charging them! Who on earth are they?’

      ‘Rich Americans,’ Percy answered. ‘They stay as guests – you know, bed and board. Business is growing. We should do it.’

      Flabbergasted, Cecily nodded, then exclaimed, ‘Now I remember something, Percy. I’ve heard about this before, from Mrs Harte. She told me some American tycoons she knows often came to shoot in England in the season. Thanks for the tip. I’ll speak to Miles, have no fear.’

      He hoisted his gun onto his shoulder, and winked. ‘Good lass,’ he murmured in a voice so low she hardly heard him. She smiled to herself as she went up the terrace steps to the house.

      Five pairs of eyes stared at her as she walked into the morning room, and four voices cried in unison, ‘Good morning, Mummy!’

      Miles stood up and went to kiss her, his eyes sparkling as he brushed his mouth against her cheek.

      ‘Good morning,’ Cecily said to her children and, turning to Miles, she whispered, ‘I love you. And good morning.’

      ‘Likewise,’ was his only comment, but he held her arm tightly and led her to her chair.

      Once they were seated, Miles said, ‘I went looking for you in the annexe, darling. Where have you been?’

      ‘I went for a walk. I needed the fresh air.’

      Gwen said, ‘I’m sorry I started to eat before you came, Mummy, but I was hungry.’

      Laughter bubbled up in Cecily as she looked across at her youngest child, her wartime baby, she called her, who was now eight years old. ‘Well, you know me, I’m always late somehow. And it doesn’t matter that you didn’t wait, Gwen.’

      The others laughed with Gwen, and Venetia said, ‘Shall I pour you a cup of tea? And do you want any breakfast?’

      ‘The tea would be lovely, thank you.’ Turning to David, who so resembled her, she said, ‘You’re looking very smart this morning. Are you going somewhere perhaps?’

      ‘With Father. He has to see his solicitor in Harrogate, and he invited me to go with him.’

      Cecily nodded, and looked down the table at Miles, raising a brow.

      ‘Just for company, nothing special,’ Miles explained, seeing the worried look in her eyes. ‘David’s going to drive us.’

      Before Venetia could pour the tea for her mother, Eric arrived and took over. As he put the cup and saucer in front of her, she thanked him and then asked in a low voice, ‘What time could we have a short meeting this morning, Eric?’

      ‘Whenever you wish, Your Ladyship,’ the butler answered. ‘Around eleven? Is that all right?’

      ‘It’s perfect. I’ll come to your office.’

      ‘Can I serve you breakfast, m’lady?’

      ‘Nothing to eat, but thank you.’

      Eric retreated to the small butler’s pantry behind the morning room, and there was a silence as everyone ate their breakfast.

      It was Walter who spoke first, when he said in a rush of words, ‘I took a message for you, Mummy, from Aunt Dottie in London. She said she was returning your call, and she would be at the shop all day.’ Walter grimaced and added, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you immediately when you arrived.’

      ‘That’s not a problem, Walter,’ Cecily said warmly, eyeing her second son. At eighteen, he was tall for his age, and good looking, all Ingham in his looks, with their blue eyes and blond hair. He was athletic, loved sports, and seemed totally unaware of the extraordinary effect he had on girls. ‘I’m hoping Aunt Dottie and Greta are confirming their travel plans for their visit. I must ring her back after breakfast.’

      His sixteen-year-old sister, Venetia, who teased him unmercifully, now said, ‘But Mummy, it’s rather nice to be here, just the six of us.’

      ‘Seven!’ Walter exclaimed. ‘You’re forgetting Aunt Charlotte.’

      ‘Seven, then, but I’m glad it’s just us,’ Venetia murmured, looking at her father, whom she adored. ‘Don’t you think so, Daddy?’

      Miles swallowed the sudden laughter bubbling inside, and nodded, ‘It’s a change,’ he answered noncommittally.

      Before Cecily could make a comment, Gwen said, ‘I agree with you, Venetia. Now that the cousins have left, I only have you to boss me around.’

      ‘I never boss you,’ Venetia protested, her voice rising indignantly.

      ‘Yes, you do,’ Walter shot back, smiling at Gwen, as usual in cahoots with her. ‘You think you’re the bee’s knees.’

      Gwen said, ‘The American cousins are very bossy.’

      ‘They’re not American,’ Venetia corrected her sharply. ‘They just live there part of the year.’

      ‘They’re still bossy!’ Gwen exclaimed. ‘Like you.’

      ‘Don’t be a big baby,’ Venetia began, and stopped abruptly when she saw the look on her father’s face.

      Miles said, ‘Enough of this. We’re going to be here alone together all summer, and we should enjoy ourselves at the moments when we have visitors. No more squabbling. Or I’ll take your mother on a holiday, and leave you all to fend for yourselves.’

      Cecily smiled to herself, sneaking a look at Gwen, who had flushed bright red. Her youngest child might look like her, with her features, her russet-brown hair, but she reminded Cecily of Dulcie when she had been Gwen’s age. Spirited, independent and able to defend herself. Cecily had no worries about Gwen, or who she would become when she grew up. Most decidedly her own woman. A warrior woman like her aunt.

      Later that morning, Cecily went down to Hanson’s old office, now occupied by Eric Swann. Her face was thoughtful as she tapped on the door, opened it and looked inside. ‘Can I come in?’

      ‘Of