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For his part, Edward Deravenel looked perturbed; a veil dropped over his face, obscuring his true feelings. He took a tight rein on himself, breathing deeply.
At last, after a long moment or two, Edward focused his entire attention on Lily Overton. He said, finally, in a cold clipped voice, ‘How can I stand it, you ask? If the truth be known, I can’t. But I have to. I have no choice. Now, let us bring this discussion to a close, shall we? There is no real point to it. We are helpless, as far as prosecuting those whom we believe are responsible. Neville and I have buried our loved ones…they are at peace now. There is nothing to say—’ He broke off, leaned forward, staring at her intently, his face resembling a mask of stone. ‘The matter is now at an end.’
No, it’s not, it’s just starting, Will Hasling thought. It won’t end until Ned and Neville Watkins have destroyed the Grants. Each and every one of them. That is irrevocable.
And as these thoughts swirled in his head, Will felt the hackles rise on the back of his neck and a cold chill swept over him.
Vicky Forth’s second husband Stephen, a well-known banker of some standing, had gone to New York on a business trip, and she had talked her brother into spending a weekend in the country with her.
Will, in turn, had coaxed Ned into joining him. Because Vicky and Lily were close friends, she had been invited to come along as well.
Edward had been delighted to accompany Will, whom he always enjoyed being with, and the fact that Lily was so obviously welcome was an added bonus.
Stonehurst Farm, located not far from Aldington in Kent, was close to Romney Marsh, and long ago it had ceased to be a working farm. Centuries old, dating back to the 1600s, it had undergone a bold transformation in recent years. Now it resembled a manor house, was, in fact, a gentleman’s farm, a country residence. Nothing was grown anymore, except for the vegetables in Vicky’s kitchen garden, and there were no livestock, although Vicky did keep a stable of fine horses for riding and hunting.
Although Stonehurst was large and rambling, with several new additions, it boasted a great deal of cosy welcoming warmth. This was due in no small measure to Vicky’s perfect taste, and her talent and skill as a decorator.
Comfort abounded everywhere, was evident in the blazing fires, large overstuffed sofas and chairs, thick rugs on the wooden and stone floors, and the velvet draperies at the many windows which kept out the winter chill in the evenings.
Edward had stayed here before, and he had always been given the same room, one which he particularly liked because it looked out towards Romney Marsh and the sea beyond.
Conveniently, and obviously intentionally, Lily’s room was located immediately opposite his, just two or three steps across the corridor. They had, so far, enjoyed two nights of passionate lovemaking and had both revelled in the fact that they could share the same bed all night, waking to savour each other in the early morning.
Lily had always managed to soothe him, to lift him out of himself, to chase away the demons that frequently dogged him. But this weekend had been somewhat different, much to his surprise and dismay. Somehow she had done exactly the opposite, upset him on several occasions with her unfortunate desire to bring up the terrible crime which had so afflicted him and his family. He found this hard to comprehend, and she was beginning to get on his nerves, to irritate him. It had never happened before in the relationship.
Now as he sat in front of the fire in his bedroom he asked himself why this rather clever and usually understanding woman was being so insensible to his feelings. What prompted her to constantly mention certain aspects of this tragedy? It was like gouging at a wound on his body, a very deep wound. Why wouldn’t she let it heal? He had been shocked a short while before, and had come up here in order to calm down, to settle himself. He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the back of the chair, let himself slide down into his innermost thoughts.
I must remain cool and controlled, in charge of myself.I cannot let Lily agitate me, or distract me away frommy purpose. Neville has warned me several times nowabout allowing women to interfere too much in my life.He told me I must use them, enjoy them, but keep themat arm’s length emotionally. Easier said than done, Itold him last week, and he agreed with me. But he alsoreminded me that he and I are about to set out on avery important mission. A campaign to bring down theHouse of Grant, bring it to its knees. We must win,Neville informed me, and of course we will. I have moreto gain than Neville, because once the Grants are goneDeravenels will be mine, and I will have avenged myfather. Not only avenged his murder but the usurpationof Deravenels sixty years ago, which left him to inheritan inferior position within the company. Yes, we willdo it, and we will do it fast. I promised my motherthat, after the funerals at Ravenscar and at Ripon. Infact, I made a vow to her, and I know this pleased her.I am the head of the Deravenel family now, and I haveto protect and look after my mother and my siblings,see to their welfare and their comfort, and to the future.It will be done. I can do it, Neville assured me of that.Of course my mother is safe, because she has her inheritancewhich Neville will now manage, but I must takefrom the company all that which is my due. I must findout why my father was always so impoverished, andrectify that situation as soon as I can. And I must findmyself a house, a proper place to live. My mother ownsthe house in Charles Street, and although she offeredit to me I cannot take it from her. That would be mostunfair since it is actually hers by inheritance from herfather.
My mother is self-contained, but then that is hernature, and knowing her as well as I do, I understandthat her grief for my father and Edmund is very raw.It will take a long time to heal, if it ever does. But sheis stoic and she will go on doggedly, and unbowed,taking care of Richard and George, and my sister Meg,raising them as my father would want them to be raised.
Before I left Ravenscar I informed my mother aboutthe black notebook, which Alfredo Oliveri hadmentioned to me in Carrara. A notebook constantlyused by my father, who made daily jottings in it. Sheand I searched for it, but had no success whatsoever.She will continue to look for it, as I did in his roomsat Charles Street before coming down here to Kent. Noluck so far.
Oliveri will be most useful to us, and he has promisedto help in any way he can. He is an undoubtedally. I am lucky to have him on my side. He says wecan win. I believe him.
Will had been coming to Stonehurst ever since his sister had bought the place twelve years ago. She had purchased the property not long after the death of her first husband Miles Tomlinson, wishing to leave the hustle and bustle of London for the tranquillity of the Kentish countryside. She had also turned the restoration of the old farmhouse and its decoration into a project to help keep grief at bay.
To some extent she had succeeded in this effort, and Will had been her willing helper over the years. He had grown to care for Stonehurst as much as she did, in winter as well as summer. The old farmhouse was surrounded by a hundred and fifty acres of wonderful land—there were fields and pastures, as well as a pond and a bluebell wood, and beyond the vast flower gardens was the Romney Marsh.
To Will, the Marsh was mysterious, a magical kind of place with its wild, blowing grasses and winding paths, its perpetual mists which rose at dusk and floated over the landscape, obscuring everything. And at this particular twilight hour the salty smell of the sea was carried in on the light breeze, reminding everyone how close the English Channel was.
In olden days the locals had latched their windows at this time of day, believing that the mists caused the ague; others had fastened their shutters tight because they were certain ghosts were at large on the Marsh.
Vicky generally laughed at these old wives’ tales which were still told to whomever would listen, and when it came to the mention of ghosts she usually muttered under her breath to Will, ‘More like the local smugglers winding their way inland from the sea, hauling their tobacco, their wines and brandy from France.’ He agreed with her, fully believed the smugglers still plied their dubious trade here.
This afternoon, as he strode along the flagged path which led from the back terrace to the gardens, he could not help thinking how beautiful the landscape was even on this cold February Saturday. It was growing late, was almost dusk already, and the grey sky of early afternoon had changed, darkened, and was filled with rafts of fiery red and purple along the horizon. Or was that the sea? Some of the low-lying Marsh beyond the gardens was well below sea level, and frequently it seemed to him that the sea in the distance was high in the sky. A most curious illusion.
‘Will, Will! Wait for me!’
He swung around at the sound of Ned’s voice, and stood waiting as his friend hurried down the path at a fast pace.
‘Why didn’t you ask me to come for a walk with you?’ Ned demanded, peering at Will. ‘Or did you feel like being alone? Am I intruding?’
Linking his arm through Ned’s, Will shook his head, drew closer to his friend as they walked on together. ‘I thought I’d better leave you to your own devices after lunch. You seemed so upset this morning, and were rather silent at lunchtime.’
‘I was, and with good reason, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, I do. Anyway, I knew you were up in your room alone, since Lily and Vicky took the horse and trap into the village after you disappeared. I just saw them coming back and so I ducked out here.’
‘For a man who doesn’t like rural life, who protests so much about country living, and who prefers the gaiety, bright lights and razzle dazzle of London, you certainly seem rather attached to Stonehurst,’ Ned remarked, sneaking a surreptitious glance at Will as they headed down the path together.
‘I have grown attached to it, actually, perhaps because I helped Vicky bludgeon it into shape, and because we shared something rather special, a unique relationship during that time, just after Miles died. I was fourteen or fifteen, thereabouts, and we worked well together and we bonded. She has always reminded me that I helped her to combat her grief. But to be honest, Ned, I wouldn’t want to live in the country permanently. I like to visit Vicky because we’re so close. I’m also fascinated by the Marsh. There’s something curious about that land out there that spells mystery to me.’
Ned laughed. ‘Ah yes, I do understand. It appeals to the young adventurous lad that still exists inside you…stories of smugglers, and baccy and brandy-running, and God knows what else. But I understand what you mean, and I also appreciate that the Romney Marsh has a genuine history to it.’ Peering ahead as they came to the edge of the lawns, Ned added, ‘And there’s romance there, too…a fair wind for France tonight, and all that, eh?’
Will had the good grace to smile, knowing full well that Ned was teasing him. ‘Well, perhaps you’re right, perhaps that’s so, the romance of it,’ he agreed. Then he changed the subject. In a concerned voice he said, ‘You are all right now, Ned, aren’t you?’
‘I suppose I am. However, I must admit I thought Lily was being as thick as a plank earlier today. And like you, Will, I have always considered her to be, well, rather smart, a clever woman.’
‘I agree, I mean about her being somewhat dense this morning. On the other hand, I believe she’s intelligent, bright. She’s also thirty-two and an experienced woman of the world, wouldn’t you say? But you know, I remember now that Vicky once told me Lily thinks she’s an expert on the law, knows a lot about legalities, legal proceedings and such, because she was married to a solicitor for a number of years. Obviously she believes she’s got one up on all of us, that she is the expert.’
Ned said, in a soft but emphatic voice, ‘I’ve really tried to place my grief in its own place, deep within myself. It is there, and it always will be, but it’s buried now, deep in my heart. I have had to do this in order to go on, Will. I must concentrate on the present and the future. My past and those tragic deaths will always be with me. However, I cannot allow feelings of grief to dominate me. I must move forward, and I know you understand this, Will.’
‘I do, and yes, I think that Lily did probe too much. But she wasn’t trying to hurt you intentionally, she was just being…assertive and she probably thought she was showing concern.’ He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. ‘After all, she’s a woman, and who on earth can understand those adorable but tantalizing creatures, understand what they do and say? Not I, for one.’
Edward was silent. The two men walked on, content to be in each other’s company. They were, in a sense, like brothers, and their bond of friendship was true and strong. It would last a lifetime, though neither of them knew that.
When they had left the lawns behind and were standing close to the seafront, Will suddenly murmured, ‘Fair wind for France indeed, Ned. Just look over there, the lights of the French coastline are shining very brightly, are so visible. What a marvellously clear bright night it is.’
‘With no mist off the Marsh,’ Ned responded. ‘And soon there’ll be a full moon, mark my words. Not a good night for our smugglers.’
‘You’re right. But listen, did you know that the Romney Marsh is as famous for its smugglers as the Cornish coast?’
‘I did.’ Now turning slightly to the right, Ned continued, ‘Let’s go and sit on that wall for a moment or two. I need to talk to you about something.’
Will nodded his assent. Bundling their scarves and coats around themselves, the two men sat down, staring out towards the encroaching sea. All of a sudden it had grown truly dark; the stars glittered, and far off, in the distance, the Dungeness lighthouse flashed, its wide beams bouncing off the water onto the land and back onto the water.
Knowing that Edward Deravenel would speak in his own time, and only when he was ready, Will waited, wondering what this was about.
At last Ned said, ‘What of Oxford, Will? You haven’t gone back there to continue your studies. You’re long overdue.’
‘Oh, but I’m not going back.’
‘Not ever?’ Ned’s surprise was evident in his tone of voice.
‘That’s correct. I went up to Oxford, saw everyone, bade my farewells, after I had explained my reasons for not finishing my education.’
‘And your father? Isn’t he angry?’ Ned probed curiously.
‘He was, but only momentarily. You know, the old man gave up on me a long time ago, and I suppose he knew it was futile to argue with me because my mind was made up.’
‘Did you go to Leicestershire to see him?’
Will shook his head. ‘It just so happened my father was in town on business last week, and we dined at his club. He was annoyed at first, and it was a bit of a sticky wicket for me, but in the end he came around to my way of thinking. He agreed I could lead my life as I wanted, and he actually wished me well. He was a brick really, Ned, since he hasn’t withdrawn my monthly allowance.’
‘That was generous of him,’ Ned murmured. Frowning, he then asked, ‘But, Will, what are your plans? Do you still wish to join a firm in the City?’
‘No, I don’t…’ Will’s voice trailed off, and he sat quietly for a moment or two, then continued, ‘I would like to work alongside you, Ned, if that would be at all possible.’
Startled, Edward turned to stare at his friend. ‘At Deravenels? Is that what you mean?’
Will nodded.
‘I don’t have a job myself, not yet at any rate. So I can’t very well give you one, old chap.’
‘The day will come when you can. I’m prepared to wait,’ Will responded. ‘If I know you and Neville Watkins as well as I think I do, I won’t have to wait very long.’
‘You sound positive about our success,’ Ned muttered.
‘I don’t doubt it for one moment.’
Ned now said, ‘I have to present myself there next week, and, frankly, I quite dread it. I know the top brass will simply greet me, give me an office and let me rot, doing nothing, twiddling my thumbs. That’s their modus operandi. But I have other ideas, and, for one thing, I’m certainly going to demand my father’s office. I’m not going to let them stick me in a poky little room in the back.’
‘That’s the spirit!’ Will exclaimed. ‘You must have your father’s old office. Start the way you mean to go on, that’s my advice.’
‘I most certainly will do that.’
‘Is it agreed then?’ Will asked. ‘About me working with you?’
‘If you wish to work at Deravenels it would certainly please me, but I can’t tell you exactly when that would be.’
‘As I said, I’ll wait.’
‘Why?’ Ned asked a short while later, as they started walking up the path, going back to the farmhouse. ‘Why are you so keen on Deravenels?’
‘Because I believe I can be of use to you, and because I want to be with you, Ned, working with you. Now, to change the subject, what are you going to do about Lily?’
‘Why nothing,’ Ned answered swiftly, pausing, turning to Will, staring at him in the moonlight. ‘I’m going to walk back into the farmhouse and be as cordial and nice as I possibly can be. After all, there’s no point in flogging a dead horse, is there? Anyway, knowing Vicky, she probably put Lily straight, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I would indeed,’ Will answered, pleased that Ned had decided to be his old charming self. His charm had somehow disappeared of late. Perhaps things would become normal again. He felt a ripple of worry then, wondering why he would think things were going to be normal. They weren’t. Not at all. Their world was about to go mad.
THIRTEEN (#u02ba055c-10FF-11e9-9e03-0cc47a520474)
London (#)
Neville Watkins was about to meet three men, each one of them very different. As he walked back and forth along the back portico of his Chelsea house he thought about them. He was well aware that each would bring something unique to the meeting; what they said, and what was ultimately agreed upon, would change many lives, some for the worse, others for the better.
As Neville turned and headed back along the paving stones a door suddenly flew open and a child stepped out. It was his small daughter Anne, and as soon as she saw him she ran towards him, her little feet flying down the walkway. She was waving and crying out, ‘Papa! Papa! Here I am!’
Laughing, he hurried forward, caught her in his arms and swung her up, held her close to his chest. ‘Hello, my little sweetheart,’ he said against her glossy light brown hair. ‘You should be wearing a coat, you know, my pet. You’ll catch a chill in this cold weather.’
‘But the sun is shining, Papa,’ she answered, staring into his eyes.
‘It’s still February, Anne.’
‘The flowers are coming out,’ she countered, pointing to the snowdrops and purple and yellow crocuses peeping up out of the dark earth of the borders set around the lawn. ‘Spring flowers Mama says.’
‘They are indeed. However, we must go inside, where it’s warmer. And you and I, well, we shall see each other later.’
‘Mama says Ned is coming. Will he bring Richard with him?’
‘I don’t think so, sweetheart, not this morning. We are having a business meeting.’
‘Today is Saturday, Papa,’ she said, sounding reproachful.
He grinned at her. ‘I know,’ he answered, and suddenly recognized the disappointment in her eyes. Her face had changed, become sad, he thought.
‘You like your cousin, don’t you?’
She nodded.
By this time Neville had reached the door, and putting her down he ushered her into the house, stepped inside after her. Before they had even moved across the central gallery he heard his wife’s footsteps on the polished wood floor. He always recognized them: only she in the household walked with such determination. Slap, slap, slap, her feet went, coming down hard on the wood, and a moment later she was entering the gallery. ‘Ah, there you are my little one,’ Anne Watkins exclaimed when she spotted her namesake. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you.’
‘She came out in search of me,’ Neville remarked, walking across the gallery to his wife, putting his hand on her shoulder affectionately. ‘She was really looking for young Dick, though, I do believe.’ He smiled at her, his eyes full of love. ‘You know how attached she is to him, Nan, she’s his shadow whenever he’s staying at Thorpe Manor with us.’
Anne Watkins, known as Nan all of her life, nodded and reached out, took hold of her daughter’s hand. ‘She’s been attached to him since she took her first steps, and stumbled into his arms…arms that were certainly on the ready to catch her.’
Neville was silent for a moment, looking intently at his wife, his face suddenly growing thoughtful, his eyes narrowing. ‘A good thing it is Richard she has adopted, taken into her heart and not the other one. I never quite know about him…the middle one, that is.’
‘What do you mean?’ Nan asked. She looked slightly puzzled, as if she were unsure of his question, its meaning.
‘The breeding is there, but not the stamina.’
‘You sound as if you’re talking about horseflesh.’
Neville threw back his head and laughed uproariously, highly amused by his wife’s comment. But then she frequently amused him with her remarks, brought laughter to his eyes. Shaking his head, he said at last, ‘Touché, my dear.’
Nan glanced at him sideways, smiling, flirting with him, and then, looking down at her youngest daughter, she murmured, ‘Come along, Anne, it’s back to the nursery for you. Miss Deidre is waiting to give you and Isabel a painting lesson.’
‘I am here,’ a small voice said, and another pretty child came dancing into the gallery, her fair hair gleaming in the sunlight filtering in through the many leaded windows. She moved towards her father, pirouetting, showing off her skills as a budding dancer. ‘Good morning, Papa,’ she said as she finally came to a standstill.
Bending down, Neville kissed her cheek, hugged her to him, then, holding her away, he gave her a warm smile and told her, ‘Aren’t you the graceful one, Isabel. I am very impressed with your talent.’
She smiled and bobbed her head prettily, and asked, ‘Is Georgie coming with Ned, Papa? Mama told me Ned would be here for lunch today.’
‘That’s true, darling, Ned is coming to have lunch with me. However, it is actually about business. And no, Georgie isn’t going to be here, and neither is Dick. You’ll have to see your little gentlemen friends another day.’
‘Oh.’ She pouted a little and shook her curls. ‘I thought we could play together…’ She let her voice trail off as she caught the warning look in her mother’s eye, saw the stern expression settling on Nan’s face.
