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

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      ‘All the new ideas. The wine auction, for one thing. There is a good point I’ll make to Miles. It’s this. Half that stock might have turned already, because we’ve had it for years. So now is the time to rescue what’s left. There is also the idea of tycoons from America, and anywhere else for that matter, coming to shoot and paying for it. Let’s turn privilege into profit. That is going to be my motto from now on. And he might have to sell one or two paintings from the Long Gallery.’

      ‘You may find it a hard task to convince him. Miles has never wanted to let any of the art go to auction,’ Cecily pointed out. ‘His father didn’t want to do that either. You know that better than anyone else, Aunt Charlotte.’

      ‘Yes, I do know. And the Ingham men can be very stubborn. Let me see if I can persuade Miles.

      ‘Now, about Greta and her offering to be a partner,’ she went on. ‘I think you might wish to think about this seriously. It would help you, give you start-again money, and be an incentive to her, having a stake in your business, I mean. Here’s a point. I don’t want Dottie to feel slighted. She might want a stake too. So, if you agree to take Greta into Swann, as we’re going to call it, then you must invite Dottie to be a partner as well. Give her the option … she might well refuse. I am not sure they would have that kind of money, but I think you should offer.’

      ‘Yes, I see what you’re getting at. But don’t you think I ought to be free of debt before taking their money? If they want to give it to me, of course.’

      ‘I do, indeed. And I would like to suggest the following. I will pay off half your debt over the next six months, on a monthly basis, which will satisfy the bank, I’m sure. But I—’

      ‘No! I won’t let you take this on! It’s not fair to you, and you’ve done so much for me in the past,’ Cecily exclaimed, her voice rising in protest.

      ‘Here’s the thing. It’s money I would be leaving you in my will,’ Charlotte pointed out. ‘So let me finish my point. I know you still have the collection of Ingham jewellery you bought from Charles in the late 1920s, the collection you based your copies on. You do, don’t you?’

      ‘Yes. It’s here in the vault. Why do you ask?’

      ‘Put it up for auction. Get money for it, in order to pay off the other half of your debt. You don’t need the collection any longer, since it’s now available in your fake collection of Cavendon jewels that you sell around the world.’

      Cecily began to laugh, filling up with mirth in a way she had not done in a long time. As she continued to chuckle, she wondered why she had never thought of that herself. A mind clouded by worry, she thought, which has blocked me lately.

      Charlotte laughed with her, and finally Cecily sputtered, ‘Only you would think of a jewellery auction, Aunt Charlotte.’

      ‘And you can make it sound very enticing, exciting. Now you can have the real thing, that sort of selling point,’ Charlotte said. ‘And I know the head of Bonhams Auction House, and I will introduce you to him.’

      ‘What an amazing number of ideas I’ve had thrown at me this week. If only a couple of them work, we’ll be in clover,’ Cecily murmured.

      ‘Not quite,’ Charlotte said. ‘But I do believe you need to free up your mind, so you can start designing next year’s collection.’

      ‘That’s true. And I will.’

      ‘I’d like you to do something else for me, Ceci. I want you to give the bad news to Miles as soon as you possibly can. Because I want to take him to the bank on Monday morning.’

      ‘I will tell him tonight or tomorrow,’ Cecily promised, feeling much more confident about confiding her troubles to her husband. She dreaded to think what Daphne would make of all of this: not just letting in the public but now selling off all Cavendon’s assets. But it was that, or go under.

      As she looked at herself in her dressing-table mirror, checking her face and hair, a phrase was running through Cecily’s mind: Let’s turn privilege into profit. It would be her mantra from now on.

      What a relief it is, she thought, not to feel so alone any more. Greta and Dottie, as usual, had been on her wavelength, and had been plotting and planning in the office annexe, attempting to streamline their ideas for finding smaller offices, and letting certain staff members go.

      That was always the hard part. Cecily balked at doing it, but at the moment she had no option. They had to cut their overheads. Dottie had told her she already knew of a two-room suite near Burlington Arcade, and would try to secure it.

      It would be tough going, she knew that already, but by lowering their overheads, selling the factories, changing the whole theme of the couture line, and making Greta a partner, she would be on the right track. Starting again, they would succeed. Fingers crossed, she added to herself.

      Rising, she left her bedroom and went downstairs. Everyone would be assembling in the dining room for dinner at any moment.

       EIGHT

      The happiness of the evening was still with her, wrapped around her like a soft silk shawl, and she felt better than she had in a very long time. She had a sense of peace, of quiet contentment.

      As Cecily undressed and got ready for bed, she knew this feeling of joy stemmed from the presence of Charlie and Alicia at dinner, and Greta had added much to the evening’s enjoyment as well. She and her assistant were as close as ever.

      As he had done at lunchtime, Charlie made them laugh with his stories and comments about his life as a newspaperman; Alicia was her charming and loving self, and the two of them brought the true meaning of family to the table. Aunt Dottie was staying with Cecily’s parents, Alice and Walter, in Little Skell.

      Even Miles, often so dour these days, had smiled and chuckled and joined in the fun.

      What was so important about the evening was the way Daphne’s tirade of last week had disappeared, just gone away. No one mentioned her, and they were the happy clan again, united in all things, at ease with each other.

      As Cecily slipped on her silk dressing gown, and crossed the bedroom floor, she braced herself. She had promised Aunt Charlotte she would tell Miles about her troubles tonight, and there was no way out. She must do it.

      Their upstairs sitting room was empty when she went in, and she walked over to the chest upon which she had propped up the painting of DeLacy earlier, stood gazing at it. A moment later, Miles came out of his dressing room and joined her.

      ‘Isn’t it beautiful, darling?’ he said, glancing at her after staring at the portrait of his sister for a few seconds. ‘How could we have forgotten about it?’

      Turning to face him, Cecily said, ‘I never really forgot it, Miles. I knew very well where it was, since I put the box up there in the attic when DeLacy’s possessions arrived years ago.’ Her face changed, and she sighed. ‘I simply couldn’t bear to bring it out, not then, so soon after she had been killed. And I thought you would feel the same.’

      Miles nodded. ‘I did, and I understand. It was a terrible time for all of us.’ He paused, took a sip of cognac. ‘But why now? What made СКАЧАТЬ