Barbara Bradford - The Cavendon Luck

Laura, sister of Ted, first cousin of Walter, aged 51. Housekeeper at the London house of Lord Mowbray. Single.

Charlotte, aunt of Walter and Percy, aged 70. Now 6th Countess of Mowbray. Charlotte is the matriarch of the Swann and Ingham families. She is treated with great respect by everyone. Charlotte was the secretary and personal assistant to David Ingham, the 5th Earl, until his death. She married the 6th Earl in 1926.

Dorothy Pinkerton, née Swann, aged 55, cousin of Charlotte. She lives in London and is married to Howard Pinkerton, a former Scotland Yard detective. She works with Cecily at Cecily Swann Couture.

CHARACTERS BELOW STAIRS

Mr Henry Hanson, Butler

Mrs Jean Weir, Housekeeper

Miss Susie Jackson, Cook

Mr Gordon Lane, Under butler

Mr Ronald Gorme, Second footman

Miss Kate Smithers, Head housemaid

Miss Brenda Caine, Second housemaid

Mr John Goff, Chauffeur

OTHER EMPLOYEES

Miss Angela Chambers, nanny for Cecily’s children, usually addressed as Nanny or Nan.

Miss Eileen Marks, the governess, usually addressed as Miss Marks. 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, usually aristocrats, are always referred to as the Guns, i.e., the men using the gun.

Tinker, tailor,

Soldier, sailor,

Rich man, poor man,

Beggar man, thief.

Old English nursery rhyme

Cecily Swann Ingham stood on the outside steps of the office annexe at Cavendon Hall, glancing around. What a change in the weather, she thought. From a gloomy, overcast morning it had become a radiant afternoon.

Blue sky. No clouds. Brilliant sunlight filtering through the leafy trees. A perfect day in late July. A smile of pleasure touched her face fleetingly.

Walking down the steps and crossing the stable yard, she headed for the dirt path through Cavendon Park which led to Little Skell village.

Cecily thought suddenly of her son’s birthday earlier in the month as she strode ahead. It had poured with rain that day and spoiled their plans for the garden party. The celebration was held indoors in the end. She couldn’t help wishing it had been a glorious day like this. On the other hand, David hadn’t minded about the weather. It was his ninth birthday and he had enjoyed every moment, as had his brother, seven-year-old Walter, and their sister Venetia, who was five. It had been a happy time for the family, and that was what counted most; their enjoyment derived from the festivities, and what Miles always called the ‘gathering of the clan’.

Later that night when they were in bed, Miles had drawn her closer to him, and had wondered out loud where all the years had gone. She had said she didn’t know and had reminded him that time always flew when they were together.

He had laughed and pulled her even closer, stroking her hair. After a moment, she had added that they had been busy raising three children, going about their own business and keeping Cavendon safe.

She recalled how he had murmured his thanks for all that, had wrapped his arms around her, then slipped on top of her, kissing her, touching her tenderly. Within seconds they were making love to each other with the same excitement and joyousness they had always known.

Suddenly, remembering that night so clearly, she couldn’t help wondering if he had made her pregnant on their son’s ninth birthday? They had both been so eager for each other, and intense. It had been a passionate night.

The idea of pregnancy lingered. She was thirty-seven. If she was pregnant, then so be it. I must think of another child as a gift, because soon my child-bearing years will be over. But having a child with war coming? This thought troubled her. She pushed it away, and hurried on towards the village. And her mind turned to the huge amount of work she and Miles had done to make Cavendon Hall and the family safe. Her brother Harry had plunged in too, as well as her four sisters-in-law. They had been hard years in so many ways.

Each of them had made all sorts of sacrifices, and had frequently used their own money to keep everything afloat.

But they had done it .

The Inghams and the Swanns, pulling together, had accomplished miracles. Cavendon was now set on the right course. And it was safe.

Yet even now, today, there was that awful little knot in her stomach. Earlier, Cecily had put this down to her worry about Harry plus her concern for Greta, her personal assistant, but she knew instinctively that neither was the real reason for her anxiety.

It was something entirely different, and it troubled her constantly, nagged at her, gave her sleepless nights.

Germany’s menacing Third Reich was casting a giant shadow across Britain, as it had done for the longest time over central Europe. And that was causing her tension. The Reich was sinister and dangerous, and the threat of war hovered. Cavendon would be at risk if there was an invasion … the whole country would be at risk. And Europe, too. The whole world, actually. She understood that only too well.

When Cecily came to the walled rose garden she paused, then pushed open the heavy oak door and went down the steps. The fragrance of late-blooming summer roses enveloped her instantly. She breathed deeply and sat down on an iron garden seat. Leaning back, she closed her eyes, trying to relax for a few moments.

This lovely old garden had not changed for centuries; it was a tranquil refuge for her, as it always had been since she was a child. She sat in here almost every day, if only for a few minutes. She loved the scent of the roses, the peacefulness behind the high brick walls. This place soothed her troubled senses, helped her to clear her mind, sort out her worries.

Her thoughts went to her mother. Cecily knew she was busy with preparations for war, working with the women in the three villages who were members of the Women’s Institute. It was run by Charlotte, who was the president. They were quite an amazing collection of village women, and had come up with solutions to make life easier if war did come to their shores.

Of course it will come, Cecily muttered to herself. The Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, believed he could appease Adolf Hitler, who had already annexed Austria and was eyeing Sudetenland in Czechoslovakia.

On the other hand, Winston Churchill understood the futility and terrible danger of appeasement, and kept on warning the government that war was imminent. Churchill was right, she was certain of that. Horrific as that thought was.