Barbara Bradford - The Cavendon Luck

‘I read that too,’ Miles cut in. ‘And he actually said it to Diana Mosley, not Ribbentrop.’ Miles shook his head. ‘I’m sure she was thrilled to hear that, given Sir Oswald’s admiration of Hitler. She and Mosley are in Berlin constantly, and so is her sister Unity, who’s obsessed with Hitler.’

‘Those Mitford sisters take the cake!’ Hugo exclaimed. ‘Worshipping at the shrine of the Führer, and Unity fawning all over him. He’s very flattered by all the attention he gets from certain members of the British aristocracy. Fools, the lot of them. No wonder Churchill sits fuming, I would, too. In fact, I do fume, in sympathy with him.’

‘I know what you mean,’ Daphne interjected. ‘I’ve noticed the Establishment feels the same way, though: they think Hitler’s a great leader. They’re afraid of Communism, that’s why.’

Alicia gave Miles her attention when she said, ‘But our royal family is rather German, isn’t it, Uncle Miles?’

‘Indeed. Our ex-king spoke the truth about his German blood. Let’s not forget that his great-grandmother, Queen Victoria, was German through her forebears, the Hanoverian kings, and her mother was German. Victoria married a German, her cousin Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha. That was the name of our royal family for years and years. King George V, Edward’s father, changed it in the Great War. That is when the family took the surname of Windsor.’

Miles cleared his throat and was about to speak when Daphne exclaimed, ‘I see Bruno hovering, so let us go and have lunch. And please, Miles, no history lessons. I grew up listening to them at every meal.’

Her brother had the good grace to laugh, and Cecily exclaimed, ‘I loved his history lessons, and still do. Miles has a fantastic memory for such marvellous historical details.’

As she rose, Daphne threw Cecily a warm look and teased, ‘Of course you love his history lessons. You love everything he does. You worship the ground he walks on.’

Grinning at Daphne, Cecily shot back, ‘That’s true, I do, and I don’t care who knows it.’

‘We’ve all known it since you were about twelve,’ Hugo murmured, squeezing Cecily’s arm as he walked past. Leaning over her shoulder, he whispered in her ear, ‘And I for one love you for the way you love him.’

Diedre, naturally observant, had had this particular trait underscored by years of training at the War Office, and she thought watching people was a fascinating occupation even when it was her own family under her scrutiny.

And so, as they all sat at the other end of the loggia enjoying lunch, she was able to indulge herself. Saying hardly anything at all, she made a show of savouring the food but kept her ears wide open.

During the first course, a cold vichyssoise soup with chives scattered on the top, her family talked about Wallis Simpson, the American divorcée for whom Edward VIII had given up the throne so that he could marry her.

Diedre was not especially interested, and only listened with half an ear, her thoughts focused at this moment on her immediate boss, William Lawson. He had joined ‘the firm’, as he called it, several years before she had returned in 1935, a year after Paul’s sudden and tragic death. He had welcomed her warmly, and with enthusiasm, and made no bones about his admiration for her and her many talents. In consequence, he had given her a lot of leeway in the three years she had worked closely with him, and he listened to her ideas.

She focused on that now, knowing that if she asked for a few extra days off, he would agree. Certainly he had had no qualms about her coming to Zurich today, to spend the weekend with her sister and other family members. She might phone Will later and ask for this favour.

Diedre had relaxed for the first time in months when she had arrived at the villa only a few hours ago. Much of that had to do with Daphne, who had always shown love and understanding to everyone. And Diedre was no exception to that rule.

Surreptitiously, she looked down the long table at her sister and couldn’t help feeling a great sense of pride. Daphne was now forty-two, but did not look it. She was still the great beauty of the family, the gorgeous peaches-and-cream blonde she had always been. She had put on a little bit of extra weight, but not much, and there was a lovely aura around her. It’s goodness, sincerity and devotion, Diedre decided, knowing how much of herself Daphne gave to others. Although underneath the loving wife and mother was a steely determination that had enabled Daphne to run Cavendon Hall since their mother’s departure and death.

Hugo, too, helped to make Diedre feel better, perhaps because he had such a gift with people, knew how to make them welcome. Also, he had been close to her Paul, her husband’s business partner and best friend. So many of her happiest memories were associated with her sister and brother-in-law, and these memories warmed her, took away some of the pain inside.

Diedre was brought out of her reverie when Bruno placed the main course in front of her, and Hugo said, ‘Anna does the best sea bass in the world, as you know.’

Smiling at him, she said, ‘I do remember. And Daphne always creates the greatest menus.’

‘Mama is the best,’ Charlie announced. ‘The magical mother. Who does everything perfectly.’

Hugo grinned and Alicia agreed, as did Miles and Cecily. It was Diedre who added, ‘And without a doubt the best sister that ever was.’

A slight blush crept up Daphne’s neck to her cheeks, and tears glistened in her eyes, but they all knew they were tears of happiness. She sat there smiling at them, obviously pleased.

Diedre let go of her people-watching habit and concentrated on her plate of food. The sea bass had been grilled; it was served with a lemon sauce, with tiny segments of lemon mixed with capers in it, and small new potatoes.

‘It’s delicious,’ Diedre said to Hugo, and added, ‘Are you going to be here next week, Hugo? Or will you be in Geneva?’

‘Oh, here, of course, Diedre. No business next week. We just want to enjoy the Villa Fleurir for a couple of weeks longer. Then it’s back to Cavendon.’

‘I thought I might go to Berlin next week,’ Charlie said, looking from his mother to his father, a brow lifting quizzically.

‘ Berlin! ’ Daphne exclaimed, staring at her son in astonishment. ‘Whatever for?’

‘To see it. Get a feel about it. I’ve read so much about all these little men prancing around in ridiculous, operetta-style uniforms—’

‘Which would only be funny if these little men, as you call them, weren’t a bunch of dangerous gangsters,’ Diedre interrupted, her tone serious, her face grimly set as she looked at her nephew. ‘Make no mistake, they are tyrants, and will stop at nothing to attain their aims. Be assured of that, Charlie.’

‘I’ve no intention of allowing you to go to Berlin,’ Hugo said in a firm voice. ‘And what would be gained by it, I ask you?’

‘This is a particular time in history,’ Charlie said in a mild, steady voice, not wanting to alienate his parents, who always stood together on all things. ‘As a budding journalist, I want to see what’s happening, take photographs with my Kodak camera, do a general walk around. I hear Unter den Linden looks amazing … Nazi flags, great German eagles atop high columns, searchlights beaming. Very colourful.’

‘No,’ Diedre said in a harsh tone. ‘They’ve ruined that beautiful avenue with their theatrical trimmings. Anyway, no one should go to Berlin alone, Charlie, and especially a twenty-year-old.’

‘I’ll soon be twenty-one,’ he interjected, still speaking in the mildest voice.

‘I’d go with you,’ Alicia said. ‘But I’m off to Cavendon on Monday.’ Wanting to avert a quarrelsome scene between her brother and her parents, she hurried on, ‘I had a letter today from Felix, who’s in Los Angeles with Dulcie and James. He and Constance have agreed to represent me, and be my managers. I want to make films, you see, not tread the boards.’