Olive nodded and smiled for the first time in days. "Thank you for listening. I do appreciate that you came to see me at once. I trust your judgment and I will have a word with the countess. After the wedding. I don't want to venture down that road and upset her just before her daughter gets married."

"That's a good thought. Don't bring anything up until after Lady Daphne and Mr. Hugo have left for their honeymoon." Charlotte finished her cup of tea and stood up. "I'm sorry, but I do have to leave now, Olive. I've such a lot to do in the South Wing."

"I understand, and thanks for coming."

Charlotte smiled at her. "Try not to worry, we'll solve this. Keep me informed, won't you?"

"I will."

Leaving the servants' hall, Charlotte went up the back stairs, and made her way through the house to the South Wing. She swiftly processed everything Olive had said, impressed with her acuity. Olive had picked up on Felicity's strange behavior very quickly since returning to Cavendon. There was something wrong with the countess, although Charlotte had no inkling what this was. Certainly it did not have anything to do with Anne Sedgewick, of that Charlotte was quite certain. Rather, it was something to do with Felicity herself. She just wasn't sure what that could be. It was a puzzle. After Daphne's safely married I'll tackle it, Charlotte decided. One step at a time.

Forty-one.

When the bride and groom came through the church porch and out onto the steps the rain had stopped, the sun was shining, and the sky was blue. Daphne lifted her eyes and looked up, breaking into smiles when she saw the arc of the rainbow in the sky.

"Hugo, look! There's a rainbow! And aren't we lucky the rain has stopped?"

"We're lucky to have each other, that's what I think, Lady Daphne Ingham Stanton." He grinned at her. "We're married, Daphne, well and truly married by the good vicar of Little Skell, and that's what matters most to me."

The clapping and the cheering started as the villagers standing on both sides of the path edged closer to see their own beautiful bride, the daughter of their earl and countess. And beautiful she truly was, in her white lace wedding gown and flowing veil that surrounded her like a cloud.

"Congratulations, Lady Daphne! Congratulations, Mr. Hugo!" some of the villagers were already shouting, while others took up the chant, "Hip, hip, hooray, hip, hip, hooray, for the bride and groom today!"

Stepping forward, Daphne and Hugo went along the path to greet their well-wishers, laughing when they were showered with rose petals. Some of the women were singing "Here Comes the Bride," and they had lovely voices, Daphne thought.

Daphne was surprised there were so many of their people in the grounds, but then the church could only hold a certain number.

On their way to the church earlier, her father had said that everyone from the three villages would be turning out to enjoy the wedding and give her a good send-off. Afterward, they would attend the tea party in Little Skell village hall, and he had added that this was his treat.

It was when she was lifting her hand to wave at the crowd outside the church gates that Daphne saw him. Richard Torbett. She was stunned. He was standing there, as bold as bra.s.s, glaring at her.

Taken by surprise, she stiffened, drew closer to Hugo, who sensed something was wrong, and glanced at her. "What is it? Are you all right?" he asked worriedly.

"I'm fine. I almost slipped on the wet stones, that's all," she quickly improvised.

Daphne couldn't resist glancing toward the road again and was shocked to see he was no longer there. He had been, hadn't he? Or had she imagined it?

All of a sudden thoughts of Torbett fled when she and Hugo were surrounded by their family. Her parents; Aunt Gwendolyn in her usual royal purple; her aunts Lavinia and Vanessa; Uncle Jack; her brothers, Guy and Miles, so smart in their morning suits; and the three Dees in their pink taffeta bridesmaid dresses. How adorable Dulcie was in her long dress and carrying her posy of pink roses.

Then came Major Gaunt and his three sons, thrilled to be with Hugo and attending his marriage, and incredibly excited that he was returning to live in Yorkshire.

Finally they were able to extricate themselves, and went down the path and through the gate to the waiting car trimmed with white satin ribbons.

"Lady Daphne! Lady Daphne!"

She turned around and saw Genevra running across the road, waving something in the air. The Romany girl came to a stop, stood a few feet away from her, and offered her something. "Lucky charm," the gypsy said, coming closer. "Don't lose."

"Thank you, Genevra," she said, taking the bit of bone from her, wondering what on earth it meant.

"You be happy," Genevra muttered, and in her usual fashion she ran off without saying another word.

"Who was that?" Hugo asked, looking puzzled.

Before she could answer him, Daphne was surrounded by DeLacy, Cecily, Mrs. Alice, and Miss Charlotte. They began to help her into the car, lifting up her voluminous veil and long train, and DeLacy was taking her bouquet of white roses from her. A moment later she and Hugo were being driven away from Little Skell village and back to Cavendon Hall.

The house was virtually deserted, since the entire staff had gone to the wedding. Hugo took hold of her arm and led her into the library. Once inside the room, Daphne put down her bouquet and looked at the piece of bone. On it were tied little bits of silver and white ribbon, and there were carvings down one side. "They're little hearts," Daphne said after a moment, showing it to Hugo. "Genevra's strange, but she's harmless."

Hugo studied the bone, and murmured, "Seven hearts altogether. What do they mean?"

"Lots of love perhaps," Daphne said, turning to him.

"Then keep it safe." Putting his arms around her, Hugo brought her close to him. "I love you, Daphne, with all my heart, now and forever, as long as we both shall live. I meant those vows I just made in church, I truly did."

"And so did I," Daphne answered, standing on tiptoe, kissing his cheek. "And it will be all right. Don't worry."

"Oh Daphne, I know that, my darling."

"I meant tonight. You and I together, starting our honeymoon here at Cavendon. It must begin tonight ... our married life, I mean. I want it to be that way."

Hugo's face was full of love for her as he handed her the bouquet of white roses, and led her out of the library.

"We must go to the pink drawing room," Daphne explained. "For the family photographs. And then after that we can relax and dance the night away."

"Not the whole night, I hope," Hugo murmured, his smile suddenly flirtatious.

"Don't be a silly boy, I've better plans than that," Daphne answered. And the look in her deep blue eyes told him everything he needed to know.

Part Three.

FROST ON GLa.s.s.

JanuaryDecember 1914.

I'll break and forge the stars anew, Shatter the heavens with a song.

Immortal in my love for you, Because I love you, very strong.

-Rupert Brooke.

We are dancing on a volcano.

-Comte de Salvandy.

Forty-two.

Daphne gave birth to a baby girl in the South Wing of Cavendon Hall on Thursday, January 29, 1914, at three o'clock in the afternoon.

The baby had a small pouff of blond hair on top of her shapely little head, and she was healthy and perfect in every way, very much to the relief of the mother.

Daphne had been in labor for ten hours, and her silent but constant prayer had been for the safe delivery of a baby without any deformities or the slightest blemish. And her prayers had been answered.

Now, two days later, on Sat.u.r.day afternoon, Daphne was seated on the sofa in the pale green sitting room of the South Wing, holding the baby in her arms.

She couldn't stop looking at the little girl, constantly moving the lacy cashmere shawl slightly in order to study her small, delicate face, her tiny hands with those perfect minuscule nails. What a miracle the child was. Daphne overflowed with enormous love for this tiny creature who was hers.

As she had recognized months ago, she would have never been able to give her away for adoption. This precious little bundle, all silky and pink, was part of her and always would be. There was an unbreakable bond between them that would last forever.

Daphne was relieved she was a married woman with a wonderful husband who had claimed the baby as his own. Because of Hugo, the baby would be forever safe as his child, under his protection and bearing his name.

The story given out was that the baby was premature, and everyone accepted this, whatever they actually believed. And Daphne and Hugo kept a cool front, turned a blind eye to any hint of gossip, and just kept on smiling serenely. As they were doing this afternoon.

Hugo was sitting next to Daphne on the sofa, being charming to everyone, but occasionally giving his total attention to his child. He kept peering at her sweet face, love reflected in his eyes, and in his demeanor in general.

Felicity was sitting in a chair next to Daphne, accompanied by Olive Wilson. The countess had been suffering from exhaustion, and was only now more like her old self. The arrival of the baby had brought smiles to her pale face, and a new lightness of spirit was evident in her.

The Earl of Mowbray, the baby's grandfather, was equally as happy as his wife, genial and outgoing today. Like Hugo, he kept glancing at the child in his daughter's arms. He was fascinated by the new arrival, his first grandchild, who was the start of a new generation of Inghams.

"You look positively radiant, Daphne," Charles remarked at one moment. "You did have a bit of a rough time, I realize that. But you came through so well. I'm proud of you."

"And so am I," Hugo interjected. "You're a real trouper, darling." Glancing at his watch, he added, "I wonder what's happened to everyone? They were invited to come at three o'clock to see the baby, before afternoon tea is served."

The words had hardly left his mouth when Hanson appeared in the doorway, and announced, "Lady Gwendolyn has just arrived, m'lord, and so has Miss Charlotte."

"Thank you, Hanson. Do show them in, would you please."

"I will, Lord Mowbray. The footmen are helping them with their outerwear. I'm afraid it's started to snow again, m'lord."

Charles nodded, glanced out of the window, and saw that the snow was indeed falling, and somewhat heavily.

Charles and Hugo immediately stood up when Lady Gwendolyn came sweeping in, looking her usual elegant self. This afternoon she wore a gray wool suit and a blue silk blouse.

After greeting her, Daphne couldn't help chuckling. "I love the blue blouse, Great-Aunt Gwendolyn."

Lady Gwendolyn, acerbic and outspoken, also had a great sense of humor, and had the good grace to laugh when she said, "I chose it in order to reflect the baby's eyes, don't you know? And I do want her to feel at home, since you all wear blue most of the time."

"Oh, she does feel that, Aunt Gwen," Hugo exclaimed. "In fact, she really is at home here in the South Wing. The other day Charles offered us the South Wing as a place to live, and we've happily accepted. We shall reside here permanently. I'll not be buying Whernside House."

"You've made a wise decision, Hugo, and I like the idea of the three of you being here under one roof at Cavendon. And in walking distance for me."

As she was speaking, Lady Gwendolyn had glided across the room and she was already peeping at the baby in Daphne's arms. "An Ingham through and through," she announced. "I can tell from her thin wrists and delicate hands. They're aristocratic."

"And so are her ankles," Felicity interjected. "Slender and neat."

Charlotte came into the room, greeting everyone, then adding, "The weather is bad. I think we might be in for a snowstorm."

"Perhaps," Charles said. "But don't worry, Charlotte, Gregg can drive Aunt Gwendolyn and you back to the village later."

"Thank you, that's very kind," Charlotte replied, and went to join Daphne on the sofa.

"Isn't she sweet," Daphne said, smiling at Charlotte, and moving the shawl. "Look, her mouth is like a little rosebud."

Charlotte could only nod, suddenly choked with emotion. The baby was beautiful, and she was safe, as was Daphne herself. How different things might have been if not for Hugo. Thank G.o.d he had decided to come to Cavendon at exactly the right time. What is meant to be is meant to be, she added to herself, believing this.

Charles helped his aunt to sit down in a chair next to him, and then he swung around as Hanson appeared once again, announcing the arrival of Mrs. Alice, Cecily, and the earl's three other daughters, Diedre, DeLacy, and Dulcie.

Of course it was Dulcie who came bouncing into the room, as usual in a hurry to be the first, although she was obviously trying to be a bit more restrained than she normally was.

When she came to a stop in front of Daphne, she said, "I want this baby, Daphers. Will you give her to me? Please." She offered her favorite sister her biggest smile.

"I'm afraid I can't, Dulcie dear. However, you can be her best friend. Yes, that's a good idea, I appoint you her best friend. That's a very special honor, and it means you can spend a lot of time with her."

"Ooooh, thank you, Daphs. YOU'RE THE SWEETEST OF THE SISTERS." She shouted these last few words in a loud voice, then reverting to her normal speech, she added, "I'll look after her careful."

"Carefully," Daphne corrected, and smoothed her hand over Dulcie's blond curls lovingly. "And when you're grown-up and married, you will be able to have a baby of your own, just like mine."

"I'll marry Hugo." Dulcie looked across at him and smiled.

He winked at her.

"That's not possible, darling, but I will find you a second Hugo, just for yourself," Daphne promised.

"Oh thank you," Dulcie responded, and leaning forward she looked at the child and asked, "Why is her face all crumpled up like an old apple?"

"Because she's just two days old. Tomorrow she will be ... uncrumpled, you'll see," Daphne murmured.

Dulcie said, "I'll come and check." She ran across to her father, and climbed up onto his knee, settled against his broad chest.

Daphne said, "Come along, Mrs. Alice, and you too, Cecily, come and see the little one."

They did as she asked, and admired the child, and exclaimed what a beautiful baby she was, and then DeLacy joined them. Immediately she cried, "She's got a rosebud mouth. You should call her Rosebud, Daphers. Or Rose. Or Rosalie. Or Rosamund or Rosemarie." DeLacy continued to laugh, as she added, "There are so many rose names. But what are you going to call her?"

"I'm about to tell you," Daphne replied.