‘What’s wrong?’ Alfredo asked worriedly.
‘I will have to tell you when I see you.’
‘Shall I book us a table at the Savoy? Or do you prefer Rules?’
‘Neither. And don’t suggest the Ritz either.’
‘How about White’s, Will?’
‘Good idea. I’ll book a table for one o’clock.’ Will hung up and sat back in his chair. Richard was not a member of White’s and therefore was unable to go there. He could only be taken and that was most unlikely. Even Ned had never taken him there. Richard hated White’s.
Will’s eyes swept across his desk: no urgent papers, nothing to deal with that was pressing. He left, went down the corridor to Finnister’s office, knocked and walked in.
‘Amos, I want you to come with me immediately. I’m taking you to White’s for lunch with Oliveri, and if you have a lunch appointment you must cancel it.’
‘Trouble,’ Finnister stated and stood up, adding, ‘And I don’t have a lunch date.’
‘Come on then, let’s go.’
The two men left the building and went out into the Strand. It was truly hot, especially for June in England, and Will said, ‘Let’s get a taxi,’ and hailed one passing by.
When they were settled and heading towards Will’s club, Will turned to Amos, and asked, ‘Why did you suspect trouble the moment I asked you to lunch?’
‘Because I’ve been expecting it: your manner, the sudden urgency. I also heard about Anthony Wyland being sacked. And I know our new boss very well, since his childhood. I have him pegged, always have. He’s not the man his brother was … not by a long shot. You know what they say … still waters run deep and the devil’s at the bottom.’
Anthony Wyland sat with his sister Elizabeth in the drawing room of the Berkeley Square house. He put his hand out, let it rest on her arm, said gently, ‘Don’t be angry, and don’t be upset. I can fend for myself, Lizzie.’
‘But what he’s done is humiliating, Anthony. I’m just startled that you are not angrier than you are.’
‘I was enraged, of course I was. But there was nothing I could do. He chucked me out, politely, coldly, and told me to leave the building at once. So I packed up my desk and left by the end of the afternoon. Yesterday.’
‘What will you do?’ she asked, frowning, her eyes filled with worry.
‘Get another job. Or perhaps not. I don’t have to rush into something I don’t like. I’ve made a lot of money –’
‘I don’t understand. I thought you were a director of Deravenels.’
‘I am, or rather I was. I had to resign as a director. He demanded it.’
‘I’m so sorry … Ned would turn in his grave if he knew.’
‘He would that.’
‘What shall I do about the summer problem?’
Anthony shook his head. ‘I honestly don’t know. Perhaps Will can advise you about that.’
‘I can’t go to Will … We’ve never liked each other.’
‘Perhaps you ought to let Bess explain the situation. She’s always been very close to Will. And he loves her like an uncle, as I love her.’
‘What a good idea! I knew you’d have a solution to my dilemma.’ The tension in her face eased a little, and her eyes cleared. She sat back in the chair. ‘Thank you for coming to lunch. I do get lonely.’
‘You don’t have to be …’ He grinned at her, assuming a demeanour that did not reflect his true feelings. ‘I’m probably going to have lots of time on my hands.’
FORTY-FIVE
‘It’s June the third today and Ned has been dead only seven weeks,’ Alfredo exclaimed, looking from Will to Amos. ‘He’s hardly cold in the ground and Richard is sacking people. His brother would turn in his grave if he knew. It’s bloody outrageous if you ask me.’
‘People?’ Will repeated, staring hard at Alfredo. ‘I was talking about Anthony Wyland. Has someone else gone? Someone I don’t know about?’
‘I thought you did know,’ Alfredo answered swiftly, frowning. ‘Edgar Phillips has been let go. I know he’s only been with us for eight years, but Ned thought very highly of him, and he was very good in the oil division. A great manager.’
‘Nobody told me,’ Will muttered. ‘But then I wasn’t informed about Wyland, either. I had to hear it on the grapevine … this morning.’
‘Richard dismissed Anthony Wyland yesterday afternoon, and you were out of the office, Will. You went to St Alban’s, didn’t you?’ Oliveri reminded him. ‘Edgar Phillips went late on Tuesday, the day before Wyland. Who’s next, do you think?’
Amos announced, ‘More than likely it’ll be me. He’s never liked me, merely tolerated me. And frankly, I’m sure he thinks I don’t serve a purpose now, with Mr Edward dead and gone –’
‘I’ll fight him tooth and nail about that, Amos, believe you me,’ Will cut in. ‘Mr Edward was inordinately fond of you, and respected you, and anyway, you’ve been with Deravenels for fourteen years, for God’s sake!’
‘Things like that don’t matter to Richard Deravenel,’ Amos replied. ‘I know him inside out. Quiet he might be, and clever and cultured, but there’s much more to him than that.’
‘I know,’ Will said, and picked up his glass of white wine. ‘Are you sure you won’t join us in a drink, Amos?’
Finnister shook his head. ‘The soda water is fine, thank you, Mr Will.’
The three men were seated in the dining room of White’s, the oldest gentlemen’s club in London. The large, well-appointed room was half empty on this lunch time in June. Many of the members left on Thursday afternoons to go to their country homes, and there was a tranquillity about the place today.
The silence at the table was compatible. The three old friends and colleagues were lost in their own thoughts at this moment. Will was thinking of Ned and how much he missed him; Oliveri was wondering if he was about to get the axe; Finnister’s mind was on Grace Rose. He had seen her for tea yesterday, and she had told him that Jane Shaw was not well, that she was worried about her. The two women had become good friends over the last few years, and close. Grace Rose had explained that Jane was grieving terribly for Ned, weeping every day and was often felled by terrible depression.
The waiter arrived with the menus, and handed them out, then left. Each man studied one, and Will said, ‘It’s too warm today for soup. I shall have Morecambe Bay potted shrimps, I think, followed by grilled plaice. Keep it light, that’s my motto these days.’
‘I’ll have the potted shrimps, too,’ Oliveri muttered. ‘And the lamb chops.’
‘That sounds good to me,’ Finnister said and put his menu down on the table. He then told Will and Oliveri about his tea with Grace Rose, and what she had confided about Jane Shaw, how troubled and unhappy Mrs Shaw was.
‘My sister did mention Jane’s unhappiness to me,’ Will said. ‘But Vicky didn’t make it sound quite as bad as this, Amos. I think perhaps I’d better go and see Mrs Shaw, suggest she joins us on holiday. My wife and I are going to Cap Martin later in the summer, my sister and her husband are joining us, along with Grace Rose. Mrs Shaw just might enjoy it, you know.’
‘That’s an excellent suggestion.’ Amos nodded. ‘I hope she accepts your invitation.’
The waiter returned, the orders were taken, and he hurried off. When they were alone again, Will moved on to another subject. ‘I must confess I was very startled by Richard’s attitude towards me today. His manner was at times cold, abrupt, and, now that I think about it, he was somewhat hostile. He’s going to be a problem.’
Oliveri stared at Will, his expression one of total surprise, then he said in a low voice, ‘I have a feeling he’s going to get very tough with us all.’
‘Why do you say that?’ Will asked.
‘He wants Deravenels for himself. For his own son and heir, Little Eddie, as his grandmother calls him. You’ll see, he’ll go for the big grab in no time at all. He’ll grab Deravenels lock, stock and barrel.’
‘But that’s hardl
y possible,’ Will declared. ‘In the codicil attached to Ned’s will he made Richard head of Deravenels, until his heir was old enough to take over, at the age of eighteen. Then he would be guided by Richard until he was twenty-one. Ned also made Richard guardian of his two boys.’
‘Not the rest of the children?’ Oliveri sat back, obviously puzzled, gazing at Ned, frowning.
‘No, just the two male heirs,’ Will replied. ‘I’m an executor, and obviously I know.’
Finnister’s voice was perturbed when he confided, ‘That’s something that troubles Grace Rose no end. She says it’s making Mrs Edward crazy, that she’s really put out about that part of the codicil. She says she’s the children’s guardian, that she doesn’t need their uncle interfering.’
Will was silent, staring into the middle of the dining room, his expression troubled, a faraway look in his eyes. He was experiencing that sudden feeling of unease yet again, almost a sense of foreboding, of onrushing doom. Edward Deravenel had handed immense power on a plate to his youngest brother. And Will couldn’t help wondering now if Richard Deravenel was going to let ambition and his lust for power get in the way of brotherly love and duty. This unexpected and frightening thought made Will feel queasy. He would not be able to stomach it if Richard shoved Ned’s sons to one side, somehow managed to get Deravenels for himself and his own heir.
Pushing back in his chair, Will stood up. ‘Excuse me for a moment.’ He hurried out, went to the men’s cloakroom. The attendant murmured a greeting; Will nodded, walked over to the three washbasins set along one wall.
He stared at himself in the mirror, saw what a ghastly white he was; perspiration speckled his face and he felt clammy. He took a few deep breaths, pushing back the nausea, washed his hands, then slapped cold water on his face.
The attendant came over, and asked in a low voice, ‘Are you not feeling well, Mr Hasling? Can I help you?’
‘I’m fine, Boroughs, thank you very much. Heat got to me a bit today, that’s all it is.’
‘I understand, sir.’ The man stepped away politely.
Will dropped some coins in the silver bowl and left the cloakroom.
Finnister and Oliveri had been worried about Will, and looked relieved when he sat down at the table. ‘Sorry, chaps,’ he apologized. ‘I suddenly felt a little queasy but I’m all right now.’
‘Amos and I have been talking whilst you were gone,’ Oliveri began. ‘We’ve decided we must watch each other’s backs, because we both think that Richard Deravenel has got the knives out, and we three may well be the next to go because we were so very close to his brother.’
‘I couldn’t agree more. The Little Fish, as Ned called him, might well turn out to be the shark.’
FORTY-SIX
Kent
‘I’m so relieved you’re here, Will,’ his sister said, walking with him through the entrance hall of Stonehurst Farm. ‘Bess is rather upset, actually perhaps agitated would be a better word to use, and she really does need to speak to you.’
‘Did she say what it’s about?’
Vicky shook her head. ‘Not exactly, but Grace Rose did confide in me the other day. Seemingly, Elizabeth is upset that Ned made Richard guardian of the boys.’ Vicky gave her brother a keen look, and added, ‘I have a terrible feeling Richard might be trying to … impose his will about something, shall we say?’
‘It wouldn’t surprise me,’ Will answered, his heart sinking. Richard apparently throwing his weight around. ‘Where is Bess?’ Will asked.
‘She’s outside in the garden, with Grace Rose. I’ll take you to them and bring you some lemonade. Or would you prefer a cup of tea?’
‘The lemonade would be nice, it’s rather hot.’
It was a glorious June Saturday. The sky was a perfect blue, without cloud, and there was a light breeze that rustled through the many trees surrounding the manicured lawns. Full-blown June roses filled the air with their scent: the garden was aflame with colour and beauty: it was Vicky’s pride and joy. She had worked hard for many years to turn it into the flower-filled haven it had become, with wonderful exotic plants and flowering bushes and fountains spraying jets of water into the air.
Bess and Grace Rose were sitting at a table on the terrace, shaded from the sun by a large green-and-white striped umbrella. Both waved when they saw Will coming towards them with Vicky.
‘Hello, you two beauties,’ Will said as he came to a stop, smiling at them broadly, thinking how pretty they both looked today in their light summer dresses.
‘Hello, Uncle Will,’ they exclaimed in unison, and Vicky said, ‘Would you like lemonade, girls? Or something else?’
‘Lemonade please,’ Grace Rose murmured, smiling at her mother.
‘The same for me please, Aunt Vicky.’ Bess then turned to Will, who had seated himself at the table. ‘Thank you for coming. I really do need to talk to you, Uncle Will.’
‘I understand, and I’m happy to listen, to be of help if I can. What’s this all about, Bess?’
Bess sat back in her chair, looking across at the man who had been constantly in her life since the day she was born – her father’s dearest and longest friend.
Suddenly realizing she was staring at him, Bess cleared her throat and said, ‘It’s about Uncle Richard. He’s upset my mother because he’s interfering with the boys.’
‘In what way?’ Will asked, sitting up, his attention on Ned’s eldest child, his senses alerted to problems.
‘He’s insisting they must go to Ravenscar for the whole summer, and then be tutored there in the autumn and winter. My mother’s troubled by this because she thinks they should be with her. Our father has just died and we are full of grief. She says the boys need her comfort and love, that all her children do. Also, she has planned to spend the summer here with us, then she was going to take us to the south of France in late August or early September. Mother doesn’t understand why Uncle Richard wants to tear the boys away from her and us, his siblings, when we all want to be together at this sorrowful time.’ Bess shook her head. ‘It’s a mystery to me, too, it’s not like Uncle Richard to be unkind. I’d just like you to know that I agree with my mother about this. The boys should be with us.’
‘You’re correct, and Richard is quite wrong. Of course, your father did make him the guardian of the boys. But as I remember the codicil, your mother is their guardian as well. I don’t think he can force anything on your mother as long as she’s not incapacitated in any way. And I know she isn’t unwell.’
‘I need your advice, Uncle Will. Shall I talk to Uncle Richard? You see, my mother thinks he won’t listen to her.’
‘She’s probably right about that. Look here, Bess, would you like me to have a word with him? I’ll be seeing him next week at Deravenels.’
‘Oh, would you, please? I’d be happy to explain everything myself, but I have a feeling you might be more successful than me.’
‘Let me have a word first, and if he’s unbending about it, then you can see Richard yourself. I know he loves you, Bess, and that you’re his favourite.’
‘Yes. He’s always been lovely to me.’
‘How are the boys?’ Will asked, a brow lifting. ‘I know they’re still grieving, but are they all right otherwise?’
‘Oh, yes, and they enjoy being with me and their other sisters, especially down here in Kent. To be honest with you, I believe they find Ravenscar a bit daunting.’
Will couldn’t help laughing. ‘I can understand that! But your father loved Ravenscar, you know. He couldn’t get enough of it.’
‘I love it, too. So does little Cecily, but my mother doesn’t like it. Nor do Edward and Ritchie. To be truly honest they much prefer to be here at Waverley Court.’
‘I can’t say I blame them. It’s a lovely house, and the gardens are beautiful. And of course the weather’s warmer.’ Will smiled at her. ‘Try not to worry, we’ll sort it out.’
Grace Rose interjected as she said, ‘Bess, you haven’t mentioned what re
ason Richard has given, about having the boys at Ravenscar during the summer, and then presumably living there in the autumn and winter.’
‘He wasn’t very forthcoming, my mother said. However, Grandmother is going to be living at Ravenscar for the next six months or so, and I have a feeling Uncle Richard and Aunt Anne will be, too, at least at weekends.’
‘With their boy Little Eddie?’ Grace Rose asked, curious as usual.
‘I suppose so.’ Bess fixed her eyes on Will again, and said slowly, ‘Perhaps he’s looking for companions for his son, our cousin?’
‘I don’t know what it’s all about, and I’m not going to hazard a guess,’ Will replied, reaching out to her, patting her arm. ‘Don’t worry in the meantime. I’ll get to the bottom of it, I promise you that,’ he went on in a warm, comforting voice.
At this moment Vicky arrived with the tray of glasses and the lemonade, and Will made sure the subject matter was changed to more general conversation. He did not want Bess to be worrying or dwelling on Richard and his motives. It was bad enough that he himself was filled with alarm. Warning signals were going off in his head.
At twelve years of age, Young Edward Deravenel, the heir, was capable, practical and highly intelligent, extremely clever for his age. Apart from these attributes, he was well-mannered with a charming personality, one that was most endearing. As were his looks. Quite simply, he was a most gorgeous-looking boy. Blond, blue-eyed and tall for his age, he was his father’s son, there were no doubts about his lineage.
Unfortunately, Young Edward had a diseased jaw for which he was undergoing treatment when he was in London. He constantly fought the pain, and also toothache.
It was bothering him on this sunny June day, and he was sitting in the kitchen with Cook, whose favourite he was, and who had given him a small cheesecloth bag she had made and filled with cloves.
‘That should do it, me lovey,’ Aida Collet said, smoothing a work-worn red hand over his blond curls. ‘Just keep yer finger on the bag, press it down on yer tooth. An old-fashioned remedy, but it helps.’
The Heir Page 36