The Heir

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  Young Edward pushed the strap of the fishing basket back on his shoulder, and trudged along with Little Ritchie, glancing around as they headed down towards the big outcropping of rocks where the famous Cormorant was located. The beach was totally deserted today, but there were a number of fishing boats out at sea, and in the distance he could see the fishermen casting their lines.

  Even though it was a sunny August morning, it was as cool as it always was at Ravenscar even in the height of summer. There was a constant wind blowing off the North Sea, and for that reason Nanny had bundled them up in warm fisherman’s wool jerseys over their flannel shirts, with their trousers tucked into their Wellington boots. As a precaution, in case it rained, she had made them put on their dark-green, rainproof jackets.

  Little Ritchie, gazing up at him, said, ‘Can we look for fossils, seaweed and seashells later, Ed? I promised the Little Dumplings I’d bring them back some treasures.’

  ‘Of course we can, Ritch,’ he answered, smiling lovingly, looking down at his little brother, who was now ten. ‘I’ll help you, in fact.’

  ‘I wish Nanny had let them come with us, I don’t know why she thinks it’s wrong for girls to go fishing, do you?’

  ‘I suppose she thinks it’s not proper, not dignified,’ Young Edward answered. ‘You know what Nanny’s like –’

  ‘Not suitable,’ Little Ritchie interrupted, doing a high-pitched imitation of Nanny, using her favourite phrase, and laughing with glee as he did.

  Young Edward smiled at him indulgently, and put an arm round his brother’s shoulders. ‘She also thinks it’s dangerous because of the way we scramble over the rocks. She thinks Bridget and Katharine might hurt themselves.’

  ‘We should have never let Nanny come to the beach with us last week, then she would have never known about our rock-climbing.’

  ‘That’s true.’ Young Edward fell silent; the two brothers walked on, not needing to chatter, quite happy and compatible in each other’s company. They were very similar in appearance, with their blond curls and blue eyes, but at twelve, going on thirteen, Young Edward was the taller of the two. They had inherited their mother’s classically beautiful features, and had a strong look of their sister Bess.

  As they drew closer to the Cormorant Rock, Little Ritchie suddenly announced, ‘I’m hungry. Shall we have something to eat before we go fishing?’

  ‘Why not?’ Young Edward put down the fishing basket, and opened the lid, took out the package of hot sausage rolls Cook had given them a short while before. As he unwrapped the greaseproof paper he exclaimed, ‘Golly, they’re still warm!’

  The two boys sat down on the shingle near the rocks and leaned back against them, munching on the warm sausage rolls which they loved.

  ‘We could’ve brought Little Eddie fishing with us, if he hadn’t gone to Ripon with his mother, to see his grandmother. He’s been longing to stand on the Cormorant, he told me so.’

  ‘He can come with us next week … when he gets back from Thorpe Manor, if you want. I know he’ll enjoy it … He’s a nice little chap, don’t you think? Ritch?’

  His brother nodded, and then frowned, shaking his head. ‘Why do they have to call us Little Ritchie and Little Eddie, and you Young Edward? I think it’s daft.’

  Young Edward burst out laughing, more at the disdainful tone than the words. A moment later, he explained, ‘It’s because you are named for Uncle Richard; and to differentiate between you, Grandmother added Little to your name, so everyone would understand. Now, Little Eddie is named for our father, as I am, so I get to be Young Edward, and he’s stuck with Little Eddie. To identify us properly. It’s a bit confusing, especially for other people outside the family.’

  ‘I understand. But when I grow up I’m going to get rid of the word little, and very quickly. I shall just call myself Ritchie, and you can be Edward, without the young part, because father is dead –’ Little Ritchie broke off and turned to his brother, and asked in a quavery voice, ‘Why did Father have to die? He was young, Ed. I heard Mother saying that to Uncle Anthony … “He was too young to die,” she said. So why did he?’

  Young Edward felt a rush of overwhelming sadness and his throat tightened with emotion. He couldn’t speak for a moment, and then he said softly, ‘He was ill with bronchitis, then he had a heart attack … but I told you that before, Ritch.’ Staring down at his younger brother, he saw the tears in his eyes, and he put his arms around him, held him close. ‘Don’t cry, Ritch. We have to be strong, brave boys, Bess told us. And remember, she’s coming to Ravenscar this afternoon to stay with us for a week. We’ll have a good time with her.’

  ‘Oh, I know! That makes me happy,’ Little Ritchie exclaimed, rubbing his damp eyes with his knuckles and visibly cheering up.

  Once they had each finished their sausage rolls, the two boys walked on, making for the fishing hut, which their father had built on a concrete ledge on top of a small stretch of moorland slightly above sea level. They walked up the narrow path from the beach, and Young Edward took the key for the hut out of his jacket pocket, once they got there. When the door was open both boys went inside, and looked around at the various boats. Young Edward began to pull out one of the larger rowing boats.

  ‘What are you doing, Ed?’ Little Ritchie asked, his eyes wide. ‘Are we going fishing … on the North Sea?’

  ‘That’s where the haddock are, Father told us that.’

  ‘He also told us not to go out there without him,’ Little Ritchie pointed out.

  ‘I know, but it’s a sunny day, the weather’s good, and especially for haddock. I bet there’s a lot of fish out there.’

  ‘Probably not,’ Little Ritchie answered, suddenly glum, but he helped his brother to carry the boat down to the beach. ‘Do you really want to go out?’ he asked after a moment.

  Young Edward hesitated, murmured, ‘Well, I’d better think about it, at least for a little bit, watch the sky, see if the weather changes, it’s so uncertain here in Yorkshire. I must be careful.’

  ‘That’s a very good idea! Now, Ed, let’s go to the Cormorant.’

  ‘I’ll race you!’ Young Edward cried.

  The two of them ran down the beach, carrying their rods, and shouting, ‘Whooppee! Whooppee!’, their voices carried by the wind.

  The Cormorant Rock was large and wide, certainly big enough for the two boys to stand on together, and they did so, casting their lines, their bright young faces shining with optimism.

  The man rowed in, moving smoothly across the steel-grey sea, helped by the wind behind his back. He would reach the beach quicker than he had previously thought. Not a bad day to be out at sea, he decided, a good day for fishing certainly. Clear sky, no sign of bad weather. And a sunny day to boot. I wonder if I’ll catch any fish? Perhaps a couple of little ones at least.

  His fishing boat, called the Gay Marie, was quite large and strongly-made and could hold half a dozen fishermen, as it sometimes had. It really required two men to row, but he was well-built, with a broad chest and massive arms. He was managing the boat well, and within ten minutes he was drawing close to the shoreline. The man rowed on determinedly, filled with powerful energy. The moment he spotted the edge of the beach he placed the oars in the boat, jumped out into the shallows, glad he was wearing wellington boots. First he pushed the boat up onto the sand, then he dragged it across the shingle and finally positioned it under the outcropping of rocks.

  Sitting down near the boat, he took out his cigarettes, brought a match to one and began to smoke, the morning sun warm on his face.

  Not far away was the Cormorant Rock where Young Edward and Little Ritchie were standing, angling for cod. Little Ritchie was excited when he finally caught one, and a moment later his brother was also lucky. ‘Whooppee!’ they shouted again, filled with happiness and pride at their success.

  After another hour Young Edward was convinced they had caught the only fish in the water today, and he also noticed that his little brother was getting tired. A
fraid that Ritch might easily fall into the water or, worse, onto the rocks, and hurt himself, he said, ‘We’d better go, Ritch. This is pointless. All the villagers come to the Cormorant, and the waters here are probably depleted.’

  Little Ritchie nodded. ‘But I don’t think we should go out there,’ he said, indicating the vast expanse of the North Sea. ‘Papa would be angry.’

  ‘Yes, I know he would. So we won’t go out for haddock. Come on, let’s get down off the Cormorant –’

  ‘What have we got here? A couple of spry young fishermen, I see,’ the man declared, staring at the two handsome blond boys and grinning.

  ‘Hello!’ Young Edward said, smiling back. ‘We’ve caught two fish, haven’t we, Ritch?’

  Little Ritchie nodded, his innocent young face as bright as a button. ‘We have! Two nice cod.’

  ‘That’s what I hope to do. Catch two nice little fish. Do you think I will?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Young Edward answered, jumping down from the rock and then helping his brother, holding his hand.

  ‘Probably not,’ Little Ritchie added, and also dropped down onto the beach.

  ‘We’ll just have to see, won’t we?’ the man murmured, and smiled at them again.

  FORTY-NINE

  ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Bess,’ Nanny exclaimed, hurrying out of the butler’s pantry and into the grand entrance foyer of Ravenscar. Her voice was strained and she was obviously alarmed.

  Bess had only just arrived from London, having taken the train to York, and she was standing in the hall with her luggage. But she spotted Nanny’s anxiety immediately, and hurried across to her, saying, ‘Nanny, whatever is it? What’s the matter?’

  ‘It’s the boys,’ Nanny answered, her desperation echoing. ‘We can’t find them. They’re missing.’ She was on the verge of tears.

  ‘Missing,’ Bess repeated, sounding puzzled. ‘I’m not following you, Nanny.’

  Jessup had come out of the butler’s pantry, and now he joined them, explaining, ‘They went fishing this morning, Miss Bess. Down on Ravenscar beach. They like to go to the Cormorant Rock. Their father, er– er– Mr Deravenel, used to take them there all the time. Cook made them a picnic lunch, which Young Edward took in the fishing basket, and off they went. They haven’t been seen since –’

  ‘But aren’t they down on the beach?’ Bess cut in, giving Jessup a sharp look, her puzzlement apparent.

  Nanny said, ‘No, they’re not. I told them when they left at eleven to come back to the house around two o’clock, two-thirty at the latest. You know Young Edward is very responsible, Bess, and so is Little Ritchie. They return when they’re supposed to, they’re never late. It’s now four. Half an hour ago, I became worried. I asked that nice under-gardener, Jeremy, to run down to the beach to fetch them for me. He came back rather upset, and said they weren’t there. In fact, there was no trace of them, and no fishing rods, no fishing basket, nothing. The beach was deserted.’

  ‘How very strange,’ Bess muttered. ‘Could they be somewhere in the house, Nanny?’

  ‘No, Bess, they’re not here.’ Nanny shook her head emphatically. ‘I’ve looked everywhere. Anyway, you know as well as I do that they have always been very obedient boys, and no trouble to me at all. Or to anyone else, for that matter.’

  ‘Could they have wandered off somewhere, gone down into the village?’ Bess posed this question to Nanny, and then looked across at the butler. ‘What do you think, Jessup?’

  ‘It’s too far to the village, Miss Bess. Anyway, it’s not like them to disobey Nanny. But I’ll ask one of the stable boys to saddle one of the horses and ride down to the village to make inquiries, if you wish, Miss Bess?’

  ‘Yes, do it, Jessup, thank you, and now I’ll go and have a word with my grandmother. I’ll come up to see the girls in a minute or two, Nanny.’

  The three of them dispersed, and Bess rushed down the Long Hall and into the library, the room where everyone sat, in the afternoon most especially.

  Cecily Deravenel had broken her leg two weeks earlier, and it was now encased in a plaster of Paris cast. She was seated in a wheelchair near the window, looking out towards the sea. She turned the chair at the sound of footsteps, and her tired face lit up when she saw her granddaughter. ‘Bess! There you are, my darling. I’m so glad you’ve come to stay with us.’

  Bess hurried across the floor. The library was so filled with memories of her father that she could hardly bear it. This room was his, and it would always be his. His presence was everywhere. And the marvellous painting of him, completed just before his fortieth birthday, hung above the fireplace, dominating the room.

  Pushing a smile onto her face, Bess went to her grandmother and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I’m happy to be here, Grandmother,’ she said and perched on the edge of a chair. In a controlled, very steady voice she said, ‘Grandmother, there seems to be a problem.’

  Cecily gave her a questioning look. ‘What kind of problem.’

  ‘The boys are missing. Young Edward and Little Ritchie seem to have disappeared. Vanished … into thin air.’

  A graveness settled over Cecily at once; she was suddenly alarmed. ‘How can they have disappeared? I don’t understand. They told me they were going fishing on the beach, where Ned always took him. They even said they were looking forward to having tea with me, and you, and the Little Dumplings, as they call the girls. I told them not to be late, to get back in time. Where could they be?’

  ‘They’re not on the beach, and they’re not in the house. Nanny is in a terrible state of upset, but I must say she did send the under-gardener down to look for them, and he reported back very quickly. There’s no sign of them and their things are not on the beach either.’

  Cecily sat back in the wheelchair; a shadow crossed her face. ‘I wish Richard were here,’ she said at last, rubbing a hand over her mouth. ‘He would know what to do.’

  ‘Where is Uncle Richard?’

  ‘He spent a couple of days in Ripon, at Thorpe Manor, with Anne and Little Eddie. The weekend actually. He went to London yesterday.’

  ‘And Anne and her boy are still at Thorpe Manor with Nan Watkins?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  There was a short silence; neither woman spoke.

  ‘Excuse me, Grandmother, I’m going to telephone the police –’

  ‘But you should talk to Richard first,’ Cecily interjected.

  ‘Why? He’s in London. I’m here on the spot. And the sooner we move the better.’ Bess hurried out, went into her father’s old office and sat down at the desk. She thought for a moment, and then telephoned Lady Fenella in London. The butler at the Curzon Street house answered and a moment later Lady Fenella herself was saying, ‘Hello, Bess, how are you?’

  ‘Hello, Aunt Fenella. I’m phoning you because I have a dreadful problem and I need your advice. I just arrived at Ravenscar. My brothers are missing.’ Talking rapidly, Bess filled her in, and repeated everything she had learned, then finished, ‘I thought of phoning the local police, and then decided to speak to you first. I would really appreciate it if you could ask Mark what he thinks, what I should do.’

  ‘This is shocking news, Bess,’ Fenella replied. ‘Could it be a kidnapping, do you think? For a ransom? Everyone knows that the Deravenels are an important family, and wealthy.’

  ‘It’s a possibility … I just don’t know what to think at this moment.’

  ‘Is Richard there?’

  ‘No, he’s apparently in London. Anne is with her mother in Ripon, and I’m here with my grandmother, who’s stuck in a wheelchair with a broken leg.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear it. Give her my best. Your mother went to Monaco, didn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, with Cecily and Anne. I don’t want to start worrying her, not yet.’

  ‘That’s not necessary at the moment. Let me speak to Mark and he or I will phone you back very soon.’

  Bess sat back in the chair, staring into space, waiting for Mark Ledbet
ter to phone. She knew he would insist on doing so when Fenella explained the situation.

  And she was right. Ten minutes later the phone rang and she grabbed the receiver at once, before Jessup could pick it up.

  ‘It’s Mark, Bess. I’m sorry about this.’

  ‘Hello, Mark.’

  ‘Tell me everything you know.’

  She did so, and then asked, ‘Should I get in touch with the police?’

  ‘No, I’ll do it for you. It’ll be easier all round and much faster if I make the calls. Scarborough is your local constabulary, but I’m going to phone York as well: it’s a bigger force.’

  ‘Thank you, Mark.’

  ‘Listen to me, Bess, and very carefully. If the boys are not found by tonight, I want you to contact me immediately whatever the time. And if there’s a call or a note about a ransom you must also phone. I shall come up there at once. Not as the head of Scotland Yard, but as a friend of the family. I don’t want to step on any local toes. I’m sure you understand. Try not to worry. We’ll find them.’

  Bess remained seated at her father’s desk, her mind racing. After a few moments she came to a conclusion: the boys had disappeared without a trace, so they had either been taken off that beach by someone, perhaps for ransom, or they had gone out in a boat and had some kind of accident. Had they lost an oar and were drifting? Had the boat overturned for some reason? Or sunk? If that were the case her brothers had more than likely drowned. She trembled at this possibility. It was too much even to contemplate.

  Suddenly a thought struck her and she jumped up, ran down the Long Hall, took the stairs two at a time, and rushed into her bedroom. She took off her lightweight travelling suit, put on a tweed skirt and blouse, found a warm cardigan and changed into walking shoes. Only then did she go to the nursery.

  Nanny looked up when she came in, and asked worriedly, ‘Any news, Bess?’

  ‘Not at the moment. But I did speak to Lady Fenella and Mark Ledbetter phoned back. He’s getting in touch with the local police … York as well as Scarborough. And I’m going down to the beach to look around for myself.’