After DeLacy insisted he try a piece of the Victoria sponge, Charles tasted it, and then put it down. Looking across at his aunt, he said, ‘I had a letter from Switzerland today. And you’ll never guess who it was from.’
Lady Gwendolyn threw him a puzzled look. ‘No, I’m afraid I won’t … I don’t know anyone who lives in Switzerland.’
A smile touched his mouth, and was gone. ‘It was from Hugo Stanton,’ he said in a level voice, wondering how she would react to this news.
‘Goodness gracious me!’ Lady Gwendolyn exclaimed. ‘Hugo Stanton, of all people, and after these many years of silence.’ She frowned, and peered at Charles. ‘I thought he was sent to live in America?’ A brow lifted.
‘He was—’
‘Quite the wrong move in my considered opinion,’ Lady Gwendolyn cut in. ‘Very rash.’
‘He was rather successful there, apparently, according to his letter, Aunt. He did well in business, and married well. However, sadly his wife died last year. From what I gather, they had been living in Zurich for several years.’
‘I see,’ Lady Gwendolyn observed noncommittally, and took a sip of her tea.
Charles continued, ‘In any event, Hugo wrote to tell me he has to come to London on business, and he asked me if he could come here for a visit. I suppose he was wondering if he would be made to feel welcome.’
There was a short silence, then Lady Gwendolyn said, ‘Of course he would be welcome as far as I’m concerned. I always liked Hugo, and I never believed for one moment that he had anything to do with his brother’s death. Stuff and nonsense that was.’
‘I couldn’t agree more.’
‘When is he coming?’ she asked.
‘Oh in the summer. I thought perhaps June or July. I’ll suggest that when I reply.’
‘And I shall look forward to seeing him again,’ Lady Gwendolyn announced with a warm smile.
Charles nodded, and decided to say nothing further. Why bring up Little Skell Manor or property, and who owned what at this stage? ‘And so shall I,’ Charles agreed amiably, and took a bite of his cake. ‘He will always be welcome at Cavendon.’
A few minutes later, DeLacy cried, ‘Mama! Diedre! You’re back early, and just in time for tea.’
The Earl glanced at the door, appearing to be as startled as DeLacy had sounded. He immediately rose, and walked across the floor to greet his wife and eldest daughter.
As he escorted them into the room, he asked Felicity, ‘I hope you had a lovely visit with Anne, my dear.’
‘Yes, we did,’ Felicity answered softly, trying to keep her voice steady, her expression neutral, not wishing to display any of her flaring emotions.
Diedre said, ‘Hello, Great-Aunt Gwendolyn,’ and went to kiss her.
Felicity followed suit, and touched DeLacy lightly on her shoulder as she passed by. Then she took a seat in a chair opposite them.
Hanson, as usual ever ready, appeared with a footman in tow, who proceeded to pour tea for the Countess and Diedre. And the ritual of afternoon tea began all over again.
Moving slightly on the sofa, Lady Gwendolyn focused on her niece-in-law, thinking once again that she looked slightly on edge. Felicity’s face was taut, and she was instantly aware of the sorrowful look in her light green eyes. Something’s wrong, Gwendolyn thought. Terribly wrong. I’m looking at a troubled woman, beleaguered by worries. What’s going on with her? She appears to be more nervous than ever.
Diedre Ingham, the eldest daughter of the Earl, had a great affinity for Lady Gwendolyn, and they had always been good friends since she was a little girl. They were cut from the same cloth, had similar characteristics, both being practical, down-to-earth and well organized. They also had a look of each other, and were of similar build.
Although Diedre did not have the alluring beauty of Daphne, nor the shining prettiness of DeLacy, she was still a good-looking young woman, with even features and those lovely blue eyes that were the Ingham trademark.
Tall, like her great-aunt, she had inherited Lady Gwendolyn’s elegance and style, and had her taste for strictly tailored clothes and understated jewellery, costly but not flashy or vulgar.
It was their down-to-earth natures that had bound them together over the years. They saw eye-to-eye on most things, and whenever Diedre had a problem, or a decision to make, it was to Lady Gwendolyn that she went.
At this moment, Diedre wished she could talk to her great-aunt, but that was not possible. She could hardly interrupt afternoon tea, and lead her away to a quiet corner.
Perhaps later she could walk back with her to Little Skell Manor, and talk to her then. Earlier today a great difficulty had arisen unexpectedly. Their aunt, Anne Sedgewick, was dying; Diedre needed someone to confide in, and to ask for advice. Intelligent, and blessed with common sense, she was, nonetheless, only twenty, and sometimes wisdom from the older woman helped her to see things more clearly.
Suddenly, Diedre sat up straighter in the chair, and paid attention. From the sound of his voice, her father was speaking about something important; she pulled herself out of her reverie to listen to him.
‘And so, Felicity, my dear, I can’t tell you how surprised I was to receive this letter from Hugo, after his silence all these years. The crux of it is this. He will be visiting London shortly, and he asked if he could come to Cavendon to see us.’
Diedre, observing her mother, saw how her face instantly brightened, and there was a sudden flash of pleasure in her eyes. ‘How wonderful that you’ve heard from him at last, Charles,’ Felicity said, her voice warm. ‘I’ve spent quite a few years worrying about little Hugo, on and off, and wondering how he had fared, hoping he was all right. Such a tragedy … being sent away.’
‘Wasn’t it in disgrace?’ Diedre ventured, looking at her father.
Before he could answer, Lady Gwendolyn said in a stern voice, ‘He was not at fault in any way, and my sister was wrong in her ridiculous attitude. And I told her so, and in no uncertain terms. It made no difference, but I’ve always regretted not being more forceful with her, or more persuasive.’
‘It wouldn’t have made any difference,’ Felicity remarked. ‘Aunt Evelyne had made up her mind that he had not helped his brother, and there was no changing her opinion. She was an extraordinarily stubborn woman, and needed a scapegoat, by the way.’
‘Didn’t his brother die in the lake … drown?’ DeLacy began, and stopped abruptly when she saw the warning look on Diedre’s face.
Charles said, ‘Enough of the past. We are now in the present, looking towards the future, and the future is very bright for us. And for Hugo. He has done well in the world and, although his wife died a year ago, I think he will bravely march on. He is an Ingham, after all, and we do that. We don’t crumble and give in. Also, he’s only thirty-two. He has his life ahead of him.’
‘Quite so,’ Lady Gwendolyn agreed in a firm voice.
‘When is he coming?’ Felicity asked softly, staring at her husband.
‘That’s really up to me, or rather to us, darling. He plans to visit London within the next few weeks. So I am going to suggest he comes here in July.’
Felicity simply nodded.
Lady