‘I still don’t know –’
‘Shut up! And listen for once in your life! I sent you to Scotland to negotiate with Ian MacDonald. But you didn’t do that. Instead, you destroyed the deal. So it’s flown out of the window. Furthermore, we have now acquired an enemy. As if we don’t have enough already. You got sloppy drunk, behaved like a dolt, a lout, and insulted a man old enough to be your father. Then you demanded a car and driver from your host, packed up your family and went back to Edinburgh. Where you lingered for several days.’
‘No, I did not! I went to Yorkshire. And straight away,’ George shot back.
‘You’re a liar, George, as well as an idiot. Nan told me exactly when you arrived at Thorpe Manor, and, I might add, she was also somewhat startled to hear she had been ill. She told me she was in blooming health, actually.’
‘She’s recovered,’ George answered lamely, running his hand through his blond hair. ‘I think she had a touch of food poisoning.’
I’d like to poison you, Edward thought, but said, ‘Pull the other leg, little brother, it has bells on! What’s the matter with you, do you think I’m a dunce? I checked everything out, so don’t even attempt to deny one single thing.’
‘You spied on me!’ George shouted, forgetting himself, once again prepared to stand up to his brother, the brother he envied.
‘Keep your voice down,’ Edward snarled, and lowered himself into his chair. He opened his desk drawer, took out some papers, and announced in a voice dripping ice, ‘I’ve paid your gambling debts. You owe me forty thousand pounds. I want it immediately.’
Stunned, taken unawares as he was, George sat up straighter in the chair, and gazed at his brother. He flushed bright red, and sudden fear rushed through him. He was totally undone, thought he was going to be violently sick.
Ignoring his brother’s silence, knowing full well he was flabbergasted, shaken, Edward waved the promissory notes in the air, and continued, ‘These are the notes you signed. I’ve redeemed them. Once I have your cheque, and when it has cleared the bank, you may have them. I think you should know that I have informed the three clubs in question that I will not pay your gambling debts ever again. I wrote to them, explaining that I cannot be responsible. I do believe they have automatically cancelled your membership, because of bad debts. You’ve been blackballed. So, little brother, what do you have to say for yourself?’
‘I wish to know why you are meddling in my affairs,’ George cried excitedly, endeavouring to recoup once more, full of bluster all of a sudden.
‘I wasn’t meddling, just protecting our name to some extent. There was so much gossip about you and your debts, your whoring, your drinking and drug-taking I had to do something. However, I do believe you should do something about these.’ Reaching into his desk drawer yet again, Edward removed a pile of bills. ‘I think you had better settle these, pay what you owe these merchants and your Savile Row tailor. I won’t tolerate any more scandalous gossip about you.’
‘How did you get my bills?’ George yelled, jumping up, his own fury bursting out of him. ‘How did you get into my desk? It’s locked.’
‘I broke into it. And whilst we are talking about your desk, why do you keep this in it?’ Edward dangled the gun on one finger.
Aghast, George sat down heavily in the chair. For a moment he was befuddled, and he shook his head as if he didn’t understand what was happening, and then he looked at his brother. In that moment he felt the blood drain out of him. He was sunk.
Ned’s eyes were blue ice, and his expression was one of genuine rage. ‘It’s for … for … my p-p-protection,’ George stammered, gulping, pushing back incipient tears, knowing he was totally at his brother’s mercy. He also knew he didn’t have a leg to stand on, and yet he nevertheless imagined he could somehow bluff his way out of this unexpected trouble.
Taking a large brown envelope off the desk, Edward dropped the gun into it, and went on in a cold voice, ‘This is going to be put in a safe, where it will remain forever. As I said, please pay your household bills immediately and attend to your tailor. Furthermore, I expect to have a cheque on my desk tomorrow, for the forty thousand you owe me.’
George nodded. He was white as bleached bone, and trembling inside. He hated Ned, truly detested him. He must find a way to ruin him, so that he could take over and run Deravenels, as he was supposed to do. And he knew he would run it far better than his odious brother.
‘You don’t seem to have much to say for yourself.’ Edward frowned, appeared puzzled. ‘Aren’t you ashamed, George, or sorry for this latest trouble you have caused, and the havoc you have wreaked in Scotland? Good God, man, you’re almost twenty-six, married, a father, and you are also a Deravenel. You must show some responsibility, and a little pride as well, I might add.’
‘How dare you lecture me!’ George ranted. ‘Who do you think you are? You’re not God!’
‘No, I’m not. But I do know exactly who I am. My name is Edward Deravenel. I am head of the Deravenel family, Head of Deravenels, and I am your older brother. I am also the man you work for. In other words, I am your boss. And let me tell you this, if you weren’t my brother I would dismiss you at once.’
‘You can’t sack me. I’m a director of this company, and a Deravenel.’
‘Oh, but you’re wrong. I can give you the sack. I can do almost anything I want within certain boundaries, as managing director. I am not going to send you packing, George, for the very reason you are my brother. And a married man, the father of children. So, I am going to be lenient. I will overlook your behaviour towards Ian MacDonald, and hopefully I will be able to get the deal back on track. But I will not overlook the money you owe me. I want that cheque tomorrow.’
‘I don’t know where to get forty thousand pounds,’ George wailed, his blue-green eyes sparkling with tears again.
‘Obviously, you will have to go to your wife. Isabel is the other Watkins heiress, and her mother is an enormously wealthy woman. Surely the two of them will give you a loan?’ A red-gold brow shot up. ‘What do you think, Georgie? Will the ladies help you out?’
‘I don’t know,’ George answered, his voice shaking. He rose, started to leave the office.
‘Don’t be in such a hurry, little brother. You’d better take these bills with you. Perhaps your mother-in-law will settle them for you. And as quickly as possible.’
George stepped over to the desk, grabbed the bills, and threw Edward an angry look. A second later the door banged behind him. What a strange thing it is, Edward thought, his eyes still on the door, that such a wonderful looking young man, with the most beautiful face, those blue-green eyes, almost turquoise, and marvellous head of blond hair, can be so rotten and mean-spirited. And he is rather stupid, not at all like Richard. Those two were only a few years apart, and had grown up together, mostly at Ravenscar. They had often defended each other, and he knew that deep down they cared for each other. And yet George had always tried to lord it over Richard, and he had felt the need to protect his Little Fish. Greed, ambition, envy, and arrogance, those were George’s true characteristics. Hubris. Just the word to describe him. Whereas Richard was loyal almost to a fault, very stubborn, courageous, and of a serious bent. Thank God for my Richard, Edward thought: he will be loyal to me forever. I have no worries about him. He’s True Blue.
Rising, Edward walked across the room, knocked on the door to the adjoining office, where he knew Will would undoubtedly be at his desk.
‘Good morning, Ned, come in, come in,’ Will exclaimed, smiling. ‘I heard raised voices. You were giving George a dressing down, weren’t you?’
‘I was. He’s so dense, really rather stupid. I was talking to him about the Scottish deal, I don’t think he got it at all. Although he did look a bit afraid at one moment, he suddenly came back at me, full of piss and vinegar. And he actually shouted back.’
Will laughed. ‘You don’t have to tell me that – I heard him. You know very well I’ve always thought he was three
bricks short of a full load.’
Ned began to laugh with Will. ‘Only three?’ He sat down in the chair opposite, and began, ‘Let me pose a question. Do you think the board will permit me to change one of the rules?’
‘I don’t really know, to be honest. It depends what the rule is,’ Will replied.
‘Women can work here as secretaries, receptionists, and telephonists. But only a woman who is a born Deravenel can hold an executive position, and also be a director of the company. However, she cannot be a board member. Only men can sit on the board. Also, even a Deravenel woman cannot be head of the company –’
‘And that’s the rule you want to change?’ Will cut in, biting his lip, suddenly appearing worried. ‘My God, it’s a bit radical, isn’t it? And anyway, why do you want to change this rule?’
‘Because I know, and you know, that women are as competent and responsible as men, and just as clever. We all have the same brain power, and to be frank, I sometimes think some women have more brains than men. In fact, I know quite a few formidable women. But look here, Will, I have four daughters, if we include Grace Rose. I want to be absolutely certain that any of them can be on the board, and be managing director or chairman, rule the roost in other words, if that is ever necessary. I have two sons, but what if I didn’t have Young Edward and Ritchie, and I died? What then? Who would inherit?’
‘I don’t have to think twice about that. George would.’
‘Correct, and it should be my brother Richard, really. But never mind this for the moment, let’s stay on one subject. I have studied the rules, which my mother got out of her vault for me, and I think it comes down to this – if a dozen board members out of the seventeen members vote in favour of the change, then the new rule, whatever it is, can indeed be added.’
‘Are you sure? Really sure, Ned?’
‘I am. And Mama is an expert on these rules. She studied them for years, because of my father’s problems at Deravenels. She agrees with me. But will the board members go along?’
‘I feel certain they will. I can think of six right off the bat … Oliveri, Anthony Wyland, Frank Lane, Matthew Reynolds. They are certainties, and my vote makes five. You yourself can vote, so that is six. And there are six others I can guarantee, they’ll do as you want. Maybe everyone will, actually. After all, you’re the goose that lays the golden eggs.’
‘Thanks for that,’ Edward laughed. Stretching out his long legs, he steepled his fingers and brought the tips to his mouth, looking reflective for a moment, then lifting his head finally he focused on Will Hasling.
‘What is it?’ Will asked. ‘You look as if you’re about to ask me something quite momentous.’
‘Not really. But it’s certainly important. What do we know about this chap Henry Turner, who lives in France?’
‘Not a lot. He’s a sort of pretender to the throne of Deravenels, I suppose, on the Lancastrian side that is. You know very well his half-uncle was Henry Grant. His mother is Margaret Beauchard, and she was married to Henry’s half-brother Edmund Turner … I think that’s correct.’
‘You’re absolutely right. But is that all we know, though?’
Will nodded. ‘I’m afraid it is.’
‘I wish I could send Finnister to France, but no one can travel just yet …’
‘I’ll do a bit of digging, and as soon as we are able we’ll send Amos to gay Paree.’
Once more, Edward laughed. ‘You always manage to bring a smile, cheer me up.’ Ned stood. ‘I’d better go along to see Oliveri. Let’s have lunch, the three of us. All right?’
‘I’ll book a table at Rules. Shall I invite Richard? We can go over our travel plans, and the Scottish deal.’
‘Good thought.’
TWENTY-FIVE
Alfredo Oliveri was the first to arrive at Rules, and as he was shown to their usual table and sat down, he focused his mind on George Deravenel.
That he was a problem was known; that he now appeared to be dangerous was a new element that had to be put into the equation. Alfredo had been as alarmed as Amos and Edward when he had heard about the gun, a somewhat bizarre accessory to take to the office under any circumstances. It smacked of violence to him.
Leaning back against the banquette, he pondered the current situation, wondering what they should do with George within the company. Having once thought it would be a good idea to send him travelling, to get him out of Edward’s hair, he now realized he would only make a mess of Deravenel business abroad. It would be foolhardy not to have him in their sights at all times.
His mind began to work as he contemplated a variety of solutions. Oliveri, now in his early fifties, had been at Deravenels for over thirty-four years. When Edward had taken over the company fourteen years ago, Alfredo had already been working there for twenty years, having begun as an apprentice. At that time, he was considered part of the old guard. He was certainly that now, one of the old-timers who had become part of the very modern present.
Having started out in the mining division, now he was head of that division on a worldwide basis. All of their mines around the globe came under his aegis … diamond mines in India, diamond and gold mines in South Africa, and other mines in South America and Asia that produced emeralds, sapphires and rubies; their opal mines in Australia were a new and successful acquisition.
He and Edward Deravenel had first met in Carrara, when Edward and Neville Watkins had come to investigate the murder of their fathers and brothers. Will Hasling had been with them. At that time, Oliveri was overseeing the Deravenel marble quarries in Italy, and he had quickly made it known to the three men that he had much more of an affinity with the Yorkshire Deravenels than with the Lancashire Deravenel Grants. Edward’s father had been good to him over the years, and seen that he got the proper promotions when they were due him.
Alfredo had helped them as much as he could in Carrara, and had then come to London almost immediately, ostensibly to check in with the head office and his boss, Aubrey Masters. But he had really come to see them, and he had soon become their spy inside the company.
Apart from being one of the greatest experts on mines and mined stones, he was a tireless worker, and a pleasant, amiable man with a talent for getting the best out of people. Everyone liked him; as an executive he was revered.
Most people thought of him as more English than Italian. Certainly his looks were English. Pale of complexion, his face was scattered with freckles and when he had been a young man he had the brightest of red hair, which had earned him the nicknames of ‘Carrot Top’ and ‘Red’. Now his hair was a sandy colour, a sort of salt-and-pepper grey with a hint of faded auburn underneath. He was a nice looking man, always well dressed, although not as elegant or as fashionable as Edward and Will.
Alfredo was happily married to an Englishwoman, had two sons aged twenty-two and nineteen, and he loved his family wholeheartedly. His mistress, a very demanding one, was Deravenels. The Mining Division and its continuing success throughout the world consumed him.
Edward was wont to say that Oliveri had given his entire life and most of his love to the company, and whilst this was true to a certain extent, Oliveri knew full well that Edward Deravenel had done exactly the same thing. He was certain his employer could not have made the company so enormous, bigger than ever, and such a great institution if he had not. And this was a bond that forever bound them together.
‘A penny for your thoughts, Oliveri,’ Edward said, staring at one of his favourite executives, a man he now considered a true friend as well as a loyal and devoted colleague of long standing.
Oliveri stared up at him, and answered softly, ‘Pondering George.’
‘That’s not surprising.’ Edward sat down next to Oliveri on the banquette. ‘I’m holding my breath, waiting to see if he brings me a cheque tomorrow.’
‘He will. He’ll more than likely go to Nan Watkins to ask her for the money,’ Oliveri volunteered, and then looked towards the door as Richard walked in, looking agitated, ve
ry nervous. The younger man was still wearing his overcoat, and his face was pinched, worried.
Edward followed the direction of Oliveri’s gaze and jumped up swiftly as Richard hurried forward. Edward knew him so well, knew at once something was amiss. Richard’s face was white as chalk, his slate-grey eyes filled with alarm.
‘Good Lord, Dick, what is it?’
‘I just ran into George. He … accosted me, and that’s the only word for it. And in the lobby of our building. He was shouting at me like a maniac saying that he would kill you one day. And then he screamed, “Tell him I’ll find the money somewhere, and do whatever I have to do to get it.” Then he ran out into the street. I watched him rush heedlessly across the Strand. He almost got knocked down by a motor car. I couldn’t believe his behaviour.’
Edward shook his head, a sad and knowing look clouding his blue eyes. ‘He gets more incomprehensible by the day. There’s something wrong with him. And if Nan won’t help him, he’ll get the money he owes me from Mother. He’ll go with a sad story and ask to borrow from her, and she’ll give it to him; she’s always protected him since he was a child. Now, Dick, calm down, catch your breath, you’re very upset. And do go and take your coat off.’
‘I’m all right, honestly, Ned, I’ll be fine in a moment. And I won’t take my coat off, since I can’t have lunch, actually. As I told Will earlier, I have a bad tooth. I must go to the dentist, I’m in terrible pain. I made an appointment early this morning, and I can’t miss it. So sorry about lunch.’
‘That’s all right, just take care of yourself and get that tooth attended to right away.’ Edward went back to the banquette.
Richard offered Oliveri a faint smile. ‘Sorry for bursting in like that, didn’t mean to upset.’
‘It’s fine, no problem,’ Alfredo answered, and announced to no one in particular, ‘Ah, here’s Hasling.’
The Heir Page 18