“Thank you, Swann, and also thank you for looking after young Phoebe here. When she was trespassing on Cavendon land, no less.”
“She wasn’t really, Commander, and I was careless, not paying attention, in fact.”
The commander nodded. “I must also thank you for putting her bike in dry dock. It came back totally shipshape.”
“It looks spanking new,” a woman’s light, slightly amused voice announced.
Both men swung around, and the commander said, “Ah, Adrianna, let me present Harry Swann … this is my sister, Swann, Adrianna Bellamy, and Phoebe’s mother.”
A hand as white as driven snow, elegant and long fingered, was stretched out to him. Harry took it in his. How cool it was, and her skin felt like silk. “I’m so pleased to meet you, Mrs. Bellamy, Phoebe has told me about you.”
“I bet she has!” Adrianna began to laugh, her pale green eyes twinkling. “I was touched that you took the time and trouble to bring her home the night of the accident, Mr. Swann. Most people wouldn’t have bothered. Thank you.”
“I certainly wasn’t going to let her walk all the way here, and I didn’t really know if she’d hurt herself or not. She said not, but I decided I must deliver her safely.”
“And you did,” Phoebe exclaimed, joining them. “Let’s go and sit over there, Mumma, be seated together before the Swarm rushes in.”
The commander chuckled. “Good thinking, Phoebe, but then you’re always at the top of the ropes, on the lookout for danger.”
“Yes, I am, Uncle Edgar, just the way you taught me. I’ve been a good naval cadet, haven’t I?”
“Indeed you have.”
There was a sudden burst of laughter among them, and they went and took their seats on two huge sofas and big armchairs grouped together.
Mrs. Jollion said, “As soon as Noel arrives, I’ll ring for Gaston. We don’t have to wait for the others; they seem to appear at different times these days.”
“Good idea, Sylvia,” Adrianna murmured. “They’ve been doing that for years now, and there’s no point fretting or even mentioning it. They come and go at will, and now so do I. If they don’t care, then neither do I.”
The Jollions laughed, and Phoebe winked at him, and he smiled, realizing what a warm and loving family this was. He had liked Adrianna the moment he had laid eyes on her. She was accessible, outgoing, and nice-looking in an understated way. No flash there. Just cool good looks, great bones, lovely skin, and shining honey-colored hair that fell to her waist.
She looked remarkably young, no more than thirty-five perhaps. But he knew she had to be much older, since her first daughter, Claudia, was thirty-one. Could she be close to fifty? No, not possible. But yes, she has to be, he corrected himself.
Adrianna was sitting opposite, and she looked back at him, her eyes narrowing. He half smiled at her and glanced away, realizing he had been staring. She chuckled, and as if she had read his mind, she said, “Yes, I do have a thirty-one-year-old daughter, Mr. Swann. And I’m fifty-one.”
Harry felt himself flush, but managed to pull up his most charming smile. “I was just thinking how lovely you look, not wondering how old you are, Mrs. Bellamy.”
“Most people do, though. And knowing my Phoebe, who always lets the cat out of the bag, I’m sure she told you a lot about me.”
“No, Mumma, no, I didn’t!” Phoebe cried, grabbing her mother’s hand. “I just spoke about the others. But not Paloma. She is sacrosanct.”
“Indeed she is,” Mrs. Jollion said, and glanced at the door when Noel walked in. “Oh there you are, darling,” she exclaimed. “Please ring for Gaston. Let’s have a nice cup of tea.”
Noel Jollion did as his mother asked, and then joined the group, greeting everyone, and sitting down next to Harry on the other sofa. “So, we finally got you here, Harry. Good to see you. How are Miles and Cecily? Are they back yet?”
“No. But they will be soon. They’re leaving Berlin tomorrow,” Harry explained. “Lady Daphne and Mr. Stanton will return a few days later.”
“Been in Berlin, have they?” the commander asked, focusing his attention on Harry. “I hear it’s become an extremely militaristic city these days. I can’t help wondering how the Imperial German Navy reacts to the Third Reich. Everything the navy stands for is against the Nazis. They modeled themselves on our Royal Navy you know, which is over four hundred years old. We have our code of behavior as gentlemen, and so do they, by the way.”
“My sister, Cecily, told me it’s a city full of uniforms, and a great deal of theatrical flash,” Harry remarked. “And it’s become very cosmopolitan.”
Before the commander could answer there was a sudden flurry at the door. Gaston, the butler, entered with two maids, all of them bringing in afternoon tea.
There was a large round table near the window next to the seating area. The butler and the maids put everything on the table and began to arrange the food.
As Harry watched them, he couldn’t help thinking it was the same array of sandwiches, scones, clotted cream, strawberry jam, and cakes which were served at Cavendon. He supposed an English afternoon tea was usually the same in every stately home.
As a Swann he’d grown up “between stairs”: familiar with the rituals of the Inghams, but not part of their social class. Yet not below stairs either—the Swanns’ position as retainers was unique.
Phoebe jumped up, and came and sat in the chair next to Harry. “Any minute, the Swarm will arrive, and I want to be next to you. After all, you’re my friend, not theirs.”
“Of course, Phoebe,” he answered, realizing that she didn’t want to be pushed to one side. He caught Adrianna watching him with curiosity and he smiled, his eyes lingering on her.
She smiled back, and he was suddenly aware that there was enormous charm there and an understanding of people. She knew what made people tick, and especially men. Her soft, understated looks were most appealing, accentuated by her peach chiffon dress. It was somewhat long and floating, and very feminine. Allure, he thought. That’s what it is. She has enormous allure.
“Tea is ready to be served, madam,” the butler announced.
“Thank you, Gaston,” Mrs. Jollion answered, and then swung her head around as two red-haired boys came bounding into the room, followed more sedately by a younger girl with the same flame-colored hair.
“These are my brothers and that’s my sister, Sabrina,” Phoebe told him.
“I see what you mean about Carrot Tops,” Harry answered, and patted her hand. “Remain seated. I want you by my side when the Swarm arrives here.”
Twenty-one
It had not taken Harry long to understand that he was in the midst of a unique, rather bohemian family, at least as far as Adrianna Bellamy and her tribe of children were concerned.
Aside from bearing a physical resemblance to her brother in her height and fair coloring, Adrianna was quite the opposite in so many other ways, as far as he could tell.
Commander and Mrs. Jollion were normal, down-to-earth people, pleasant, warm, and rather sedate. And yet they appeared to enjoy having Adrianna and her family around them. He understood why. Her lot were a funny, endearing, cheerful group, and they brought a certain élan to this gathering.
Perhaps there was another reason they accepted them, and encouraged the Bellamys to be themselves. The Jollions had lost their first child, Kay, who would have been twenty-two had she lived. She had died at the age of seven, of some rare form of cancer. He knew from his aunt Charlotte that it had been a terrible loss and a great blow to them. Fortunately, they had their son Noel, on whom they both doted.
But Harry had to admit that it was probably Adrianna’s children who brought a sense of excitement and fun to their lives, and to Noel’s, too. The commander’s sister was obviously most welcome here and surely it was for the love and pleasure she and her brood brought to this house.
The afternoon tea was in full swing, and there was a lot of laughter and chatter around him. Everyone see
med to be enjoying themselves, and what he himself felt was a sense of ease being among them, and their acceptance of him unconditionally.
After the arrival of Phoebe’s sister, Sabrina, and their two brothers, Gregg and Chance, the three older siblings had come in a few minutes later.
When they entered the garden room together he knew at once who the two eldest were. Claudia and Angelica had a strong look of each other and their mother. They had Adrianna’s fair coloring, honey-blond hair, and light green eyes.
The third young woman did not look at all like any of Adrianna’s other children. Her father, Edward Glendenning, was a well-known film actor, and Harry certainly saw him reflected in her. She had Edward’s black hair and bright blue eyes fringed with black lashes.
Harry was used to the “Ingham blues,” as he called them, but Paloma’s eyes looked bluer, almost violet. Or perhaps it was her black hair that emphasized their color more. In any event, she was a nice-looking young woman, with high cheekbones and a chiseled nose like her father, but she had inherited Adrianna’s height, her willowy bearing.
The thing that struck Harry the most was her tranquility. Like her siblings, she had come to greet him and introduce herself. And then, on Phoebe’s insistence, she had seated herself on the sofa opposite him.
It was not long before he became aware of her stillness, a sense of serenity about her. Quite a contrast to her brothers and sisters, which was no doubt why her calm and gentle demeanor stood out so forcibly.
Phoebe interrupted his meandering thoughts, when she asked in a low voice, “What do you think of this gang? Characters, aren’t they?”
Harry swallowed the laughter that bubbled up. “And so are you, Miss Phoebe, perhaps the biggest character of all. I must admit, you are special, and they are very nice … easy to like.”
Phoebe, who loved flattery and attention, beamed at him. “Aren’t you glad you knocked me off my bike? If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have met all of us.”
“That’s absolutely true. And I can’t imagine why I haven’t met you before, or at least heard of you.”
Leaning closer, she said, “My father never wanted to come to Yorkshire, and he didn’t want Mumma to bring us without him. So she always invited Aunt Sylvia, Uncle Edgar, and Noel to her house in Kent. My father didn’t want to go there either, because it belongs to Mumma, not him. She always said he resented her former husbands and her brother, and it upset her. So they finally got a divorce. Then we started to come to stay here. Only for August, though, because the boys have to go back to Eton.”
“So you’ll be leaving soon?”
“In two weeks. Perhaps you can come to tea again,” Phoebe suggested, and then a sudden thought struck her. “You could come and see us when you’re in London. We live in Kensington, and Mumma loves company and cooking for everyone. You could have dinner with us.”
“Perhaps,” Harry murmured cautiously, aware that Phoebe was only twelve, and should not be inviting him to dinner without her mother’s permission.
There was an awkward silence for a moment, and when he saw the odd, disappointed look on Phoebe’s face, he asked lightly, with a smile, “Don’t tell me you all live together?”
Phoebe made a face. “No, just the Bellamys. Claudia, Angelica, and Paloma have their own flats. But they come to see us a lot.” She began to giggle. “They miss us urchins.”
Paloma, who had been listening to this conversation, interjected, “I’m sure our mother would invite you, Mr. Swann, and me as well, and my sisters. She’s a wonderful cook. She enjoys giving parties.” There was a pause, and before she could stop herself, Paloma went on in a rush, “But in the meantime, I wonder if I might invite myself to Cavendon? Or rather, I should say, to see the Cavendon gardens? I’m a photographer. I know my aunt is a friend of the countess, and she could easily arrange it. On the other hand, you’re the estate manager and—”
“Mr. Swann created the gardens,” Phoebe cut in. “Aunt Sylvia says they are fantastical, magical.”
“Did she really?” Harry said, sounding surprised.
“Those are her exact words, Mr. Swann, and she never exaggerates,” Paloma interjected, gazing at him, unexpectedly so drawn to him she couldn’t look away. Her eyes locked on his.
Harry stared back, mesmerized by those violet eyes holding him. He felt a sudden tightening in his chest, a frisson of excitement. He was struck dumb by this sudden rush of feelings.
Although he had no way of knowing it, Paloma was equally as surprised at herself. Never in her life had she reacted to a man like this, and so suddenly. She felt an overwhelming pull, a need to know him better. Much better indeed. She was floundering … this was not like her.
Phoebe, witness to their reaction to each other, smiled to herself. She didn’t want to break the spell they were under, so she remained silent. They were oblivious to everyone else, saw only each other. A moment later Phoebe knew she must intervene. Someone might notice. She said, “Can I come with you, Paloma? Be your assistant? Please.”
Paloma sat up straighter with a jerk, cleared her throat, and said, “Of course, you can carry the film.”
Harry, pulling himself together, said quickly, “You don’t have to ask your aunt to ask my aunt, Miss Glendenning. You may photograph the gardens anytime you wish. It will be my pleasure to show you around.”
“Can we come tomorrow?” Phoebe asked.
“Sunday would be better. Sunday morning actually, Miss Glendenning,” he answered, looking directly at Paloma.
“Thank you. And please call me Paloma, we don’t stand on ceremony around here.”
Harry could only nod, once more captivated by those violet eyes fixed so intently on him. “Harry,” he managed to say. “Call me Harry.”
She smiled at him. He smiled back.
And Phoebe smiled at them both.
* * *
Harry drove slowly and carefully back to Cavendon, somewhat befuddled, bewildered, really, by his own behavior. He couldn’t believe he had responded so readily and so easily to Paloma’s intense and suggestive gaze. And that he had actually returned it, had felt a flush of sudden excitement inside. Was he that shallow?
Only a few hours earlier he had been in a fury about Pauline Mallard’s defection, hurt and rejected, and wondering how he would ever get over her, this woman he was in love with.
But was he in love with Pauline? Or had he been in lust, as Miles had often suggested? A huge infatuation, perhaps? Not real love? He didn’t know … but what he was certain of was that Paloma had wanted to see him again. Photographing Cavendon gardens was an obvious ploy. The thing was, he had agreed with speed, revealing that he wished the same as her.
As he drove through the village of High Clough, it suddenly struck him that wily, clever Phoebe had been witness to the scene of them gazing at each other in rapt silence. She had broken the mood by speaking to them. Before others noticed? Was that her motive? He wasn’t sure … he wasn’t sure of anything anymore, not even of himself. Maybe he wasn’t the man he thought he was.
By the time he arrived at Little Skell village, the light was draining out of the sky, and after parking by the side of the house, he glanced at his watch. He was amazed to discover it was turning off seven-thirty. He had stayed a long time at Burnside Manor.
He shivered when he went into the house. It felt cold, and there was a dampness in the air. He turned on the hall light and walked into the living room. It was dark, gloomy, and he moved around swiftly, switching on several lamps. They glowed brightly, but it still appeared gloomy to him, and sitting down on the sofa he realized how empty the place was.
He was here alone. As he always was.
A deep sigh trickled through him, and he leaned back against the cushions and closed his eyes, wondering what to do. He didn’t feel like making dinner for himself, or even going to the pub for a pint, although that would be more cheerful than being here.
I’m forty. And alone. No woman by my side, no wife, no children.
Family, and good friends, yes. But no one to call my own, to share my life with. And I’ve done it to myself. The odd romantic dalliance. No one ever serious. And then months and months with a married woman who never had any intention of leaving him for me …
There was a knock on the front door, and as it opened he sat up, snapped open his eyes to see his mother coming into the living room. “There you are, Harry,” Alice said. “What are you doing? Sitting there like that? All alone. Come on, let’s go.”
Rising, he walked over to her, gave her a hug. “Where to, Mam?”
“The house where you grew up. Where there’s a fire and hot food. A good supper for you.” She glanced around the room, and shook her head. “It’s miserable here, cold and cheerless.”
They went out together and crossed the main street to his parents’ house. Harry walked through the front door and felt his spirits lifting as he entered. The fire was burning high in the grate, and delicious smells of food cooking filled the air. In the background, music was playing on the wireless. His parents’ home was warm and welcoming as it always was, and he was glad she had come to get him.
After opening the oven door, looking inside, Alice straightened, and said, “Let’s go into the front room, Harry, and have a drink, and you can tell me all about your tea party this afternoon. Were you there all this time?”
He nodded, and followed her into the front room, which was actually at the back of the house facing the garden. It was spacious, with large windows; the moors were visible in the distance.
“Sherry or a single malt?” Harry asked, turning to Alice, who was already poking the fire, making flames shoot up the chimney, then dropping on another log. “Sherry, please,” she answered.
A moment later, he was sitting in the chair opposite her in front of the fire. After clinking his glass to hers, Harry said, “Can you imagine, I didn’t leave there until almost seven.”
Alice smiled at him, her eyes twinkling. “Those girls wouldn’t let you go! Was that it?”