The Complete Ravenscar Trilogy: The Ravenscar Dynasty, Heirs of Ravenscar, Being Elizabeth

Nan stared into the room absently, thinking of young Tom. How Neville had grieved in the last few weeks. But she had helped him as best she could, and so had his brother John…Johnny they all called him, such a kind and gentle young man.

She would never dare say a wrong word about Johnny to Neville, but she knew deep in her heart that it was Ned who held his loyalty and love. She also knew that Edward Deravenel knew this, and sometimes it disturbed her.

Instinct, she thought. I have instinctive feelings about such things, instincts I cannot and must not fault. I’m right more often than I am wrong, aren’t I?

It was the same with young Richard. There were times when Neville treated him like the son he had not yet had but hoped one day to have; Richard was the stand-in perhaps, yes, in a sense it was that. But Richard’s absolute and total loyalty was to his brother Edward first.

Then there was George, the middle Deravenel brother. He had no loyalty to anyone but himself, of that she was utterly certain. One day it will all explode, go up in smoke, Nan said to herself, and then wondered why she had had such an irrational and silly thought.

The two clans of Watkins and Deravenel were intertwined forever. An unbreakable bond. That was what they all said. She just hoped it was true…

SEVENTEEN

The four men who were seated at the table in Neville’s handsomely-furnished dining room were quite different in style and personality, for the most part as disparate as any men could be.

Seated at the head of the table was the host. A patrician of undoubted aristocratic stock, slender, dark-haired, with those mesmerizing turquoise eyes in his lean, good-looking face, he was elegance personified.

Neville’s superbly-cut, dark-grey worsted suit was from the best tailor in London. It looked it. His white shirt, made of the finest blend of Egyptian cotton, was enhanced by a deep-purple silk cravat, elaborately tied in a fancy knot and finished with a discreet diamond pin. He wore a crested signet ring; heavy gold cufflinks fastened his French cuffs; his handmade shoes shone like glass. Neville had dressed with flair and style, and today he more than lived up to his reputation as a dandy, the Beau Brummell of his time.

At the other end of the table sat his cousin Edward Deravenel. Ned dominated the scene because of his height and physique, his handsome face, startling blue eyes and red-gold hair. Edward also wore a well-tailored Savile Row suit, although one not quite as expensive as that of his cousin. Dark blue in colour, it had the popular flared frock coat and narrowed trousers; his shirt was white, his jewellery simple—his father’s gold pocket watch and cufflinks. The pearl stick pin which he now treasured so much was fastened in his dark blue cravat.

Edward’s overwhelming presence, his aura of raw masculinity and sex appeal was balanced by his charm and amiability, his friendly smile and his genuine interest in other people. Although a man of exceptional personal appeal to women, he was, nonetheless, well liked by other men.

Facing each other across the long mahogany table were Alfredo Oliveri and Amos Finnister. They appeared to be comfortable and at ease with each other, as well as with the patrician cousins and their luxurious surroundings.

Despite having had an Italian father, Alfredo appeared very English in his plain, dark grey suit, with his carrot top red hair, pale skin and freckles. Of medium height, he was slight of build and looked much younger than his forty-one years. A product of the lower middle class, he was a clever man with a good brain who had been well educated, and he was a hard worker. His refined manner and pleasant demeanour attracted people to him, and gave them confidence in him.

Amos Finnister was in his mid-forties, tall and thin with a slight stoop. His jet black hair was touched with strands of grey, but his pencil-thin moustache was as black as his coal-dark eyes. He, too, was from the lower middle class. Intelligent, worldly wise, he was a man with strong instincts about people; it was this psychological insight into people which made him such an excellent private investigator.

Amos had started his professional life as a policeman on the beat, before turning to private investigating. His years with the police force had served him well, and he had continued to nurture most of his contacts long after he had left the force. Contacts who were as diverse as Scotland Yard detectives and coroners, thugs, thieves and underworld characters, with information to deal or information to sell.

Conservatively dressed in a black suit this afternoon, he was always unremarkable in his appearance; Amos could move through the diversely different worlds he travelled without causing a single ripple, or drawing attention to himself. He liked to boast that he was invisible, and this was true.

Despite their differences, the four men were, conversely, very similar. They all had integrity, a deeply ingrained sense of duty and of what was right and wrong. They also now shared the same motive, which was to put Edward Deravenel in the seat of power at Deravenels. They believed, indeed were convinced, that as Richard Deravenel’s son he was the true and rightful heir to the company, knew without a trace of doubt that they were righting a terrible wrong committed over sixty years ago.

Each of them had vowed to stop at nothing in order to achieve their goal, fulfil their purpose. And because they were so certain they were fighting a deadly enemy there were no holds barred.

For the last hour over lunch they had touched on many subjects which interested them, but had not mentioned the business at hand. Neville had made it clear, as they had walked across the hall to the dining room, that it would be wiser to wait until they were alone again before discussing their imminent plans.

Now, as they sipped their coffee and nursed their balloons of Calvados, Neville spoke about their current business.

He said quietly, ‘So, let us now review things.’ Turning to Amos, he went on, ‘You have given us the best ammunition so far, the knowledge that Grant is most probably insane. And you will get us the medical records as soon as you can?’

Amos nodded. ‘Consider it done. And my people will take any other records pertaining to Grant. We’ll make a good job of it, have no fear, sir.’

‘Excellent, and I think now would be a good time to fill us in about John Summers and his crew. You did say you had information.’

Amos shifted slightly in the chair, and cleared his throat. ‘That’s right, Mr Watkins, I do. However, about Summers himself, there’s nothing, nothing at all. He’s as clean as a whistle. And so is Margot Grant, by the way, except for the resurfacing of that old rumour about her son’s legitimacy. But some of the others, well, they’re tarnished, sir, and in my opinion that plays in our favour.’

His three companions leaned forward, looked at him eagerly, alertly.

Amos smiled thinly, as he explained, ‘They are so tarnished, in fact, they have left themselves wide open to blackmail.’

‘Have they now?’ Neville exclaimed, his eyes narrowing. But he was not at all surprised, having a low opinion of the Grant faction. ‘Please do fill us in, Amos.’

‘James Cliff is finding himself in an extremely difficult situation. He has rather foolishly antagonized both his wife and his mistress. He’s caught in a vice between the two of them, who are both tough, hard-bitten and cold-hearted females. Each is demanding more of his time, his constant presence. There’s a strong rumour that his mistress is pregnant, which would really throw a spanner in the works if it were true, since his wife is the one with the money.’ He began to chuckle.

Everyone laughed with Amos, and Neville said disparagingly, ‘Yet another fool about to take a fall.’

Amos continued, ‘Then there’s Philip Dever, a secret homosexual with a hot young buck for his lover. No one knows this, of course, including his wife. And then there is Jack Beaufield, whom, I have discovered, has extremely sticky fingers. Financial problems and complications in his last position at another company. Not too careful, our Jack, when it comes to other people’s money. And that’s all I have at the moment, but there’ll be more, I’m quite sure of that, sir. My operatives are still digging.’

‘Well done, very well done indeed,’ Neville said, and took a long swallow of the brandy.

‘I’m wondering about Aubrey Masters,’ Edward began, and his eyes met Oliveri’s. Ned went on, ‘Finnister, did you manage to get anything at all on the head of the mining division?’

‘Not a lot, Mr Edward,’ Amos replied. ‘Masters is considered to be a little weird, in fact, by the other employees. He’s a vegetarian, and obviously there’s nothing amiss in that, except that he does follow a strange diet, consuming roots, seeds, pods, flowers, grains and all manner of rather unusual things, and he’s attempted to get others to join him. With no success, I might add. He has a wife but no children, as you no doubt know. The wife stays in the background, a bit of a recluse, seemingly. He’s considered to be an indifferent manager by some of his staff, dismissed by many as ineffectual and boring, and he’s definitely not popular. Seemingly, he doesn’t like to travel, which his staff have taken umbrage to because he is the head of the mining division.’

‘That’s absolutely true about the travelling,’ Alfredo said. ‘And that was one of the complaints Mr Richard had about him. Masters has long ignored our mining interests abroad, has never gone to India, South Africa or South America, and he’s only once been to Carrara. Somehow, Masters has always managed to shove those field trips onto his underlings. I’ve long doubted his ability, and most people are at odds with him. As for the peculiar diet, I don’t know anything about that, and I don’t think it really matters.’ Shaking his head, Alfredo finished, ‘Everyone believes as I do, that he’s in that job because he’s the cousin of Henry Grant.’

‘My father said the same,’ Edward murmured, and glanced at Neville, laughed hollowly. ‘It’s a pity Aubrey Masters is in such good health.’

‘Isn’t it just,’ Neville responded, with a cold smile. ‘But please, don’t bring up that famous old phrase…who will rid me of this turbulent priest? Or whatever it was. We don’t need murder in the cathedral at this moment.’

‘Too true, Cousin. Let us not turn Masters into a martyr like Thomas à Becket.’

Alfredo changed the subject. ‘Earlier you asked me how long I would be in London, Mr Edward. I have another week of working at the head office, but I can stretch it to two weeks if you wish. I have a great deal to do on the situation in Carrara, and there are decisions to be made, so it could take longer.’

‘Do you think Masters will agree to your suggestion of purchasing new quarries?’

‘It’s a decision for the board. However, I believe they will listen to me. The old quarries are almost depleted. We must buy new ones to stay in business. What I think—’

Neville interrupted when he exclaimed, ‘I think you must try and stay here as long as you can, Oliveri. We need you to gather as much information as possible, since you’re our only inside man with access to everyone. You’re invaluable, you know, having been so long at Deravenels, and because you are so well trusted. And there is another reason…it allows me to breathe easier, knowing you are with Edward on a constant basis.’

Nodding, Alfredo answered, ‘I know, and I will do my best to extend my visit. I’m as anxious as you to know what they’re planning, and I agree, it’s good for me to be able to keep an eye on Mr Edward.’

Focusing on Neville, Amos said in a firm voice, ‘Mr Watkins, I know you worry about your cousin, but in my opinion I think Mr Deravenel is perfectly safe, sir. I doubt that John Summers will do anything to hurt him, or have him hurt by others. There’s been excessive gossip about the fire in Italy and the family losses. After all, your father and Mr Richard Deravenel were well-known figures in the business world. Summers is far too canny, too astute to do anything rash, he wouldn’t want to attract attention to himself or to the Grants. Not after the fire in Carrara. Nor would he want to stir up old animosities…The Grants are not particularly popular in the City. Some old hands haven’t forgotten about Henry Grant’s marauding grandfather.’

Something struck Edward, and he murmured, ‘That’s another thing, why not get some propaganda going about that old story? It won’t do us any harm to paint the Grants black, you know. Actually, it would gain us even more sympathy if we remind people about those events, don’t you think, Finnister?’

‘I do indeed, sir. I’ll get my chaps on to it at once.’

For the next hour the four men remained seated at the dining table, discussing their plans. And as the afternoon drew on they became confident of their success and of their ultimate triumph over their enemies.

EIGHTEEN

‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to attend the lunch yesterday,’ Will Hasling said, his gaze fixed on Edward, who was sitting opposite him in the hansom cab. ‘As I explained to you, I had to be in Leicestershire to meet with the family solicitors. About the legacy my aunt left me.’

‘So you said,’ Edward replied, then added, ‘I hope it was a decent inheritance.’

Will laughed. ‘Very decent indeed, Ned. Really generous. I was her only nephew, and as I told you, she never married, so there were no children. I was her sole heir. Anyway, I couldn’t get back to London until last night. How was the lunch with Neville and Oliveri?’

‘It went very well,’ Edward responded. ‘I was very impressed with this man Amos Finnister. He’s the private investigator Neville is using. I think he’s going to prove invaluable to us. He’s already dug up a lot of dirt, and, most importantly, he discovered that Henry Grant was incarcerated in two insane asylums. Finnister’s convinced Grant is actually insane.’

‘Good God!’ Will exclaimed, sitting up straighter, his amazement written across his startled face. ‘That is interesting news, and certainly it works in our favour.’

‘Yes, it does. Finnister has to make an attempt to get the medical records, because, as Oliveri pointed out, the board of Deravenels will only be convinced of his insanity by such records. They’ll want proof in order to believe.’

‘If then,’ Will muttered, ‘you know the place is riddled with his friends. They’ll defend him any way they can, do whatever it takes to keep him in power.’

‘Maybe they won’t be able to do that,’ Edward answered, and in a low, rapid voice began to tell Will about the lunch, and everything that had been said. And ultimately agreed upon.

Once Ned had finished speaking, Will sat back against the seat, looking thoughtful for a few moments, and then he shook his head. ‘Certainly this Amos Finnister chap has handed you a number of lethal weapons…such as the possibility to blackmail, circulate bad propaganda, those kind of things, but stealing the records might not be quite so easy.’

‘Neville assured me that if anyone can do it, it’s Finnister. Or rather, some of the men he employs. I get the impression they’re professional thieves.’

‘Well I certainly trust Neville’s judgement. By the way, have you told him I would like to work at Deravenels, once you’ve taken over?’

Edward began to laugh. ‘Another confident soul, I see, not even questioning the outcome. And yes, I have told him, and he was delighted. He even wondered aloud if you would consider working for him at the moment, until you could join me, and I said I would ask you.’

‘Neville wants me to work for him? Good God! But look here, Ned, what would I do?’ Will Hasling’s expression was one of total puzzlement.

‘Chiefly, you would be…my boon companion,’ Edward explained. ‘Except you wouldn’t be able to accompany me to work, to Deravenels. However, he does want you to be with me at all other times. He’s got a bee in his bonnet about my safety, even though Amos Finnister assured him they wouldn’t dare make a move against me, physically that is, at the moment. Finnister says that the fire in Carrara and those terrible deaths have brought attention to the Grants. There’s a lot of gossip going around about the tragedy, and about the Grants, too. Look, Will, Neville feels I shouldn’t be wandering around town alone, and he thinks you’re the best person to be at my side.

‘But he doesn’t have to employ me to do that, Ned! Surely he understands about our friendship.’

‘Of course he does. I suppose he wanted to put you on his payroll because he thinks you have to earn a living—’

‘That’s no longer necessary, because of the money my aunt has left me. It’s not a great fortune, Ned, but it’s enough to keep me quite comfortably, and my father still gives me a small allowance.’

Edward nodded, and said swiftly, ‘I hope you’re not offended by his offer of money.’

‘Don’t be silly, and the answer by the way is yes. I will certainly be your boon companion—that’s not work, it’s total pleasure.’

Both young men laughed, and then Will’s face changed, became solemn when he said in a serious voice, ‘Rest assured that I will protect you. With my life. And always. Because like Neville, I believe the Grants will eventually try to get you in some way. And I don’t want my best friend dead…I want him alive.’

Edward nodded, gave Will a somewhat wry smile. ‘And your friend wants to stay alive, I can assure you of that.’ There was a moment’s pause before Ned continued, ‘I’m certainly glad my mother decided to come to London, I’ve worried about them, especially the children. I’ll be much happier having them at Charles Street with me. Even though it is perfectly safe at Ravenscar. It’s well protected by its location, and the locals are devoted to us. Still, I have been concerned about them being there without me.’

‘That I understand, Ned, and you never know in life.’ Will sighed. ‘You just never know what might happen.’ He looked out of the window for a second, and then bringing his steady gaze back to Edward, he asked, ‘Do you think your mother was afraid there? Is that why she’s coming back to town today? Do you think she considered herself vulnerable at Ravenscar?’

‘No, I don’t, in all honesty. I know she’s always felt safe there, but from what she said on the telephone, last night, she became lonely in Yorkshire without my father. Also, she had previously engaged John Pennington to tutor the boys, and Perdita Willis to act as Meg’s governess for the next few months. For those reasons she wanted to return to London. Mind you, Will, she did say they have all missed me.’

‘She’s done the right thing, coming back, and I feel better myself, having you all in one place,’ Will confided, and then exclaimed, ‘Well, here we are, Ned, King’s Cross station!’

A moment later the two men were alighting from the hansom cab. Swinton, the butler, was getting out of a second hansom just behind them, and he came to join Edward and Will.

‘I shall go and round up some porters, sir,’ Swinton announced. ‘Mrs Deravenel told me there would be a quantity of luggage.’

Edward nodded. ‘Mr Hasling and I will go to the usual barrier and wait there, Swinton.’

‘Right-o, sir.’

Striding out, Edward and Will hurried through the railway station to the platform where the morning train from York would be pulling in within the space of the next few minutes or so.

It was a cold Sunday afternoon, and the two men were heavily bundled up in thick winter overcoats and woollen scarves. The two of them, tall, handsome and well dressed, stood out in the crowd, and it occurred to Will that Edward Deravenel would always stand out anywhere, because of his height and looks and that head of burnished red-gold hair. How to make him invisible? he asked himself. He had no answer. Yet he did know one thing, and it had troubled him for some time.

He was well aware that as soon as the battle between the cousins began in earnest, Ned would be a moving target. How strange to think of murder…they lived in a civilized country, in a civilized age…and yet he knew that dark powers were at work. Even Cecily Deravenel had said that to Edward.

Of all the Deravenels, Edward was the most vulnerable because he could grab the seat of power and take over the company, whereas his two brothers were far too young, just little boys. He is the true threat to the Grants, Will thought, and on the back of his neck his hackles rose.

God help us all when it starts, Will thought, and his mind began to race as he wondered again how he would be able to keep Ned safe. There was no obvious way at this moment, except to surround him with a phalanx of bodyguards. Which Ned wouldn’t tolerate. But Neville would, and Neville would pay.

Will’s thoughts were interrupted by Edward, who leaned closer to him. ‘I went to Belsize Park last night, hoping to see Lily,’ he confided. ‘The housekeeper told me she had gone to the country for the weekend. Is she with Vicky in Kent, Will?’

‘Yes, she is. They were planning to return tomorrow.’

‘I hope she’s not angry with me, I didn’t get a chance to see her last week, I was so preoccupied with Deravenels.’

‘Did you leave her a note yesterday?’

‘I did.’

‘Then she’ll be fine, Ned.’ Will looked at his friend, and told him in a lowered voice, ‘She really loves you.’

‘And I love her.’

‘It can’t go anywhere, though. Now can it?’

‘Nowhere at all, Will. But I do want to continue seeing her, for the moment. She’s a great comfort to me.’

‘We all need a little comfort at times,’ Will agreed.

At this moment train whistles began to blow and the York train came chugging along, rumbling towards the barrier at Platform Five where the two men were standing.

Edward noticed Swinton, followed by the two porters with luggage wagons, heading down the platform, and within minutes, through the billowing clouds of steam and smoke, he spotted his mother. She was elegantly dressed in black, surrounded by his siblings. He saw her greet Swinton, and watched her as she indicated the suitcases and trunks being unloaded and placed on the platform.

A moment later, his two brothers became aware he was waiting and they raced along the platform like greyhounds. The two boys were flinging themselves at him, and at Will, and they were unexpectedly entangled in a mass of young arms and legs. And then there was Meg arriving, looking so beautiful and sedate, followed by his mother, who was smiling at him.

Edward knocked on the door of the parlour and waited, entered the room only when his mother called, ‘Come in, Edward.’

She was seated at her small, kidney-shaped desk in the bay window, and glanced up as he closed the door behind him.

‘Peace reigns at last!’ she exclaimed, shaking her head, sighing. ‘I thought George would never stop chattering. And that Will would never leave.’

Walking towards her, Edward sat down in the chair facing the desk, and exclaimed, ‘Yes, George was unusually garrulous, and as for Will outstaying his welcome, that was all my fault, Mother. I did invite him to have tea with us, and it somehow got out of hand, just seemed endless and rather rowdy, I’m afraid. I’m so sorry.’ He studied her for a moment, then asked quietly, ‘Are you not feeling well?’

Cecily Deravenel gave him a long puzzled look, frowning. ‘I’m perfectly fine, Ned, thank you. And please don’t misunderstand—I like Will. No, let me correct myself, I love him, and you know very well he’s been like a member of this family for years. The only reason I became so impatient was because I needed to be alone with you, and you seemed so embroiled with the children and Will.’