‘Villas?’ Cecil frowned, raised a brow. ‘You never mentioned villas. Aren’t those going to cost a lot?’
‘No, because they’re not really villas. To be honest, Cecil, they’re bungalows, rather like those at the Beverly Hills Hotel. It’s Philip who likes to give them the far grander name. Each one has a sitting room, either one or two bedrooms, plus bathrooms. The architectural design is extremely simple, and they can be built relatively quickly, in our opinion.’
‘I see. And how many are planned?’ Cecil asked.
‘Six. But there’s plenty of land available, so more of them could be built if they’re needed.’
‘What about a spa?’ Elizabeth ventured. ‘A resort always needs a spa, and they’re so popular these days. Almost a necessity, in fact.’
‘I agree, and the plans for one do exist, but I wasn’t particularly impressed. It should be much, much larger, more deluxe. Also, a swimming pool and tennis courts ought to be included to make it an all-around sports and leisure resort of the kind I visualize.’ Robert stood up, adding, ‘I’ve got some of the photographs in my briefcase. Let me get them.’
A moment later he was back, and sat down next to Elizabeth on the sofa, showed her colour photographs of the resort, which she passed on to Cecil.
‘Well, you’re certainly correct about it being a lovely spot, Robin,’ she said. ‘The place looks fabulous. So, tell me, what went wrong? Why couldn’t Philip Alvarez finish the resort?’
‘To be honest, I’m not exactly sure. I think he got distracted by his other businesses, probably lost interest in the Marbella Project. Now he’s in real trouble, and if he’s not rescued he’ll go belly up. The banks are breathing down his neck. Seriously so.’
Cecil, who had been studying the photographs, put them down on the coffee table. ‘It’s obviously a lovely place. But let’s cut to the chase. If we do decide to go into the project, we have to put up seventy million euros to finish building it, and to get it up and running. And we also have to finance the running of it, the day-to-day operations. Correct?’
Robert nodded.
Cecil looked thoughtful.
‘What have you actually proposed to Alvarez, Robin?’ Elizabeth turned to Robert as she spoke. ‘And where does he stand in the scheme of things?’
‘I made the following proposal to him,’ Robert answered. ‘Firstly, that his investment of seventy-two million euros stays in the project, as does Deravenels seventy-five million euros, which Mary invested with him. Secondly, that he can be a member of the board of the new management company which we’ll create, but that he cannot be involved in the day-to-day running of the resort, and has no say about that. He’s got to leave that to us. Thirdly, that he will not see a return on his investment until we sell the resort in five years’ time. If we decide to do that. He was in agreement with everything.’
‘He has no choice,’ Elizabeth announced.
Robert smiled at her pithiness. ‘Never a truer word spoken.’ He leaned closer to her. ‘He will agree to anything we propose, more or less, because he desperately needs us, he has nowhere else to go. Also, he wants to protect his other business interests.’
Cecil said, ‘When you and I spoke on the phone yesterday, you said he’d agreed to wait for our final decision until after Christmas. But let’s assume we do decide to take over, when do you envision that happening, Robert?’
‘We would have to go in there in the middle of January.’
‘But what about those banks you indicated are breathing down his neck?’ Cecil’s brows drew together in a frown.
‘I said we would give him a letter of intent, which he could show them. In the letter we would lay out our proposal, providing his documentation has held up to our scrutiny, and if the board of Deravenels agreed that we could go ahead.’
‘I suppose we do have to go to the board?’ Elizabeth threw Cecil a questioning look.
‘Yes, we do, absolutely, but I don’t think there will be a problem,’ Cecil answered. ‘On the surface, this seems like an excellent deal, and let’s face it, Deravenels already has seventy-five million euros at stake. I believe the board will agree with us that we should be protecting our Spanish investment. Somehow.’
‘But where are we going to get the seventy million euros to finish the resort?’ Elizabeth asked, looking from Cecil to Robert and back to Cecil.
‘We can pull some money from our hotel division, and the wine division,’ Cecil told her. ‘I’ll talk to Broakes and Norfell about that possibility, and I’m quite certain we can borrow the rest. Our banks will go along with us on this.’
‘Don’t you think John Norfell ought to go to Marbella to look things over?’ Elizabeth suggested.
‘I do, and I was going to suggest it. It will have to be after Christmas, of course,’ Robert replied.
‘Is there any deadline as far as Alvarez is concerned, with the letter of intent?’ Cecil gave Robert a hard stare. ‘In other words, how long do we have in order to study all the documentation before issuing that letter?’
‘He indicated he could hold things steady until the beginning of January. Ambrose and Nicholas will be bringing more information with them tomorrow, as well as all of the architectural plans, sketches and some more photographs.’
‘Very good.’ Cecil glanced at his notebook, closed it, and continued swiftly, ‘I’ll talk to a few of the board members privately, but frankly I don’t foresee any problems, or objections, not under the circumstances. Although we would be spending a chunk of money to save the original investment, I agree that this is a short-term investment. And we ought to come out of it with excellent profits, along with the return of Mary’s original investment.’
‘Are you sure Philip Alvarez won’t interfere, once we take over?’ Elizabeth sounded worried.
‘I am,’ Robert assured her. ‘Because he won’t be able to, we’ll make sure of that in the contract we draw up with him. Please don’t worry about him. I have a feeling our Spanish friend just wants to save his skin. If we relieve him of the burdens of the resort, particularly of finishing it, he will be eternally grateful.’
Elizabeth threw him a sceptical look but made no further comment.
Cecil stood up. ‘Let’s have another meeting at nine tomorrow morning, so that we can consult with Ambrose and Nicholas. And thanks, Robert, you’ve done a great job.’
‘It was a team effort, Cecil.’
Left alone together, Elizabeth turned to Robert. ‘I agree with Cecil, you’ve done a fantastic job. But I want to ask you about something else … about Christmas. It’s almost upon us, and I was wondering if you’re still coming to Waverley Court?’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘Oh.’ Taken aback, her face changed, and she looked crestfallen, stood staring at him.
‘And you can’t go there either. Because we have quite a lot of work to do, to be able to bring this deal to a conclusion. You and Cecil will have to work with me for at least part of the time.’
‘That’s fine. But what about Christmas Day?’
‘I’m going to spend it with you. In London, not the country.’
‘I understand.’ Her smile was one of relief.
‘Shall we have lunch together later?’
Elizabeth shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I can’t, Robin. I promised Grace Rose I would have lunch with her and I don’t want to disappoint her. But I’m free this evening.’
‘Then let’s have supper. I’ll take you to the Caprice and you can have your favourite fishcakes and chips.’
She began to laugh. ‘It’s a date.’
Robert picked up the photographs, moved towards the door. ‘I’ve a lot of work to do, but come in if you need me for anything.’
Elizabeth nodded, then sat down at her desk. She was glad he was back, and she smiled to herself as she picked up her pen.
‘Well, don’t you look beautiful today,’ Grace Rose said, taking hold of Elizabeth’s hand, beaming at her.
‘Thank yo
u, and so do you, Grace Rose.’ Elizabeth leaned closer, kissed her cheek, filled with affection for her aunt.
‘Come and sit with me in the drawing room for a few minutes. Would you like a glass of sherry?’
Remembering that she had only eaten a banana for dinner last night, and had a cup of coffee for breakfast, Elizabeth quickly declined. ‘I’m not a very good drinker, and certainly not at lunchtime, especially since I have to go back to work.’
‘I understand.’ Still holding her hand, Grace Rose led her into the drawing room and across to the fireplace. ‘Let’s sit here, where it’s warm, and perhaps you’d be kind enough to bring me a glass of sherry. The decanter is over there, on the drinks table.’
‘Of course.’ Elizabeth walked over to the table near the window and poured a glass of the pale Amontillado she knew Grace Rose preferred, then decided to pour one for herself. A small glass of sherry was hardly going to make her drunk.
Carrying them back to fireside, she said, ‘I’m having one, too, Grace Rose. I might as well be a grown-up today.’
Grace Rose laughed, and took the small glass. ‘It’s not much more than a thimbleful, you know. Happy Christmas, my dear.’
‘Happy Christmas.’
‘I was so relieved when you told me none of Jane Shaw’s paintings had gone missing. But where are they exactly?’
‘Just as I thought, there are a number at the Chelsea house and some at Waverley Court. However, most of them are at Ravenscar. Kat has visited all three houses again, and every single painting is accounted for. She also made a detailed list. Here’s a copy for you.’ Placing the sherry glass on the side table, Elizabeth reached into her large red Hermès Birkin, took out an envelope, and gave it to Grace Rose.
‘There’s a wonderful Sisley hanging in the red dining room at the Chelsea house,’ Elizabeth said. ‘And it struck me when I was there yesterday that you’d probably decorated the room. It’s full of your signature red.’
Grace Rose nodded. ‘I did decorate it, but quite a while ago now, you know.’
‘It’s held up well and still looks beautiful.’
‘If I’m not mistaken, the Alfred Sisley in the dining room is called The Bridge at Moret, isn’t it?’
‘It is, yes, and there are a couple of other Sisleys at Ravenscar. Also a Rouault, two by Matisse, and two Monets. Both of those paintings are of small boats on rivers.’
‘Jane Shaw had a wonderful eye. It’s a very valuable collection, Elizabeth.’
‘I realize that.’ Elizabeth took a deep breath, plunged. ‘I’m thinking of selling some of the paintings. You don’t object, do you?’
If she was surprised by this question, Grace Rose did not show it. ‘They are yours now, you can do what you want with them. I was only concerned that … well, that none had been stolen. Out of curiosity, why do you want to sell some of them? Do you need money?’
‘Not desperately, no, but I certainly don’t want this large art collection, or the responsibility of owning it. And I’m planning to auction off a lot of other things, so I decided it would be a good idea to include some of the paintings.’
‘Not the Renoir?’ Grace Rose stared at her intently.
‘Not the Renoir. That will never be sold. However, Kat has discovered a treasure trove in the cellar vaults at the Chelsea house. It’s stuff I don’t need, or want, so we dreamed up the idea of having an auction. I want to call it The Deravenel–Turner Collections, and it would be held next year, hopefully handled by Sotheby’s.’
‘But what did Kat find in the vaults?’ Grace Rose sounded mystified.
Elizabeth told her, ‘And there is a selection of other priceless things from Cartier jewels and twenty-two diamond tiaras, to eighteenth- and ninteenth-century silver and gold plate by master craftsmen.’
Grace Rose seemed astonished, looked off into the distance for a moment. ‘I think some of those things were collected by my father,’ she finally said. ‘But a lot of it must have been passed down from Neville and Nan Watkins to Richard and Anne Deravenel, and then to your grandmother. You know, as I think about those things, they must date back even further, several hundred years, in fact. Because Neville’s father Rick was England’s greatest magnate in his day, and was renowned as a collector of valuable silver, artifacts, all kinds of objects, and art.’
At this moment, the housekeeper Louisa came in and told Grace Rose that lunch was ready to be served.
SIXTEEN
My God, she’s fantastic, Elizabeth thought, as she followed Grace Rose across the foyer. I hope I’m like her when I’m an old lady. No sign of osteoporosis or a widow’s hump here. Her aunt was tall, erect, and well dressed. She’s also got all her marbles, and all her ducks in a row, Elizabeth decided, filled with admiration for the ninety-six-year old.
Once they were seated at the table in a handsomely furnished dining room, decorated in a mélange of fir-green and white, Grace Rose picked up their interrupted conversation.
‘I’m delighted you’re having this auction, Elizabeth. It’s very enterprising of you indeed. It’s rather silly to hoard unwanted things, useless really, in my opinion. Everything should fetch a good price, and most especially the art.’
At this moment Louisa appeared, served them plates of smoked salmon with thin slices of brown bread and butter, and lemon wedges. To Grace Rose, Louisa said, ‘Shall I serve white wine, Mrs Morran?’
‘I don’t think so, Louisa,’ Grace Rose responded, glanced at Elizabeth, raised a brow questioningly.
‘Not for me, thank you,’ Elizabeth answered, smiling at the housekeeper.
They ate in silence for a moment or two, and then Grace Rose put her knife and fork down, said in a low, confidential voice, ‘I hate to pry, and I’m only doing it now because I’m concerned about you. Are your finances in order? Adequate?’
‘I’m fine, thank you, Grace Rose. Honestly. As you know, I have a trust from my father and my salary from Deravenels, and I manage quite well. I must say, though, I’m glad your father had such a clear vision of the future.’
‘What do you mean?’ Grace Rose sounded puzzled.
‘Edward Deravenel was extremely smart when he created the Ravenscar Trust Fund many years ago. It’s for the running of Ravenscar. The money has been well invested over the years and the interest pays for the upkeep of the house, grounds, any repairs, and also the staff wages. I don’t know what I’d do if he hadn’t had the foresight to create that fund. I would have to close most of the house and live in three rooms, or rent it out, because I can’t afford to run it. And I certainly can’t sell it.’
‘I know, it’s entailed.’ Grace Rose sighed. ‘Naturally, Mary’s responsible for your finances being tight, isn’t she?’
Elizabeth pursed her lips and nodded, took a sip of water, and wanting to reassure her, said, ‘I’m all right financially, I promise.’
Noticing that Elizabeth looked somewhat uncomfortable, Grace Rose changed the subject. ‘You spoke of Cartier jewellery earlier. Was that all from the vault at the Chelsea house?’
‘A lot of it was, yes. But I also received some fabulous pieces from Mary before she died.’
‘Was there a set of aquamarine-and-diamond pieces? A ring, a bracelet, and a pair of earrings? If so, they belonged to your grandmother, her uncle gave them to her.’
Elizabeth’s face lit up. ‘There is a set exactly like that. Oh, I shan’t sell those.’
‘I don’t think you should. Bess loved that set and always wore it on special occasions.’
‘She was very close to her uncle, wasn’t she?’
‘Very, and she always defended him, but then I did, too. We never thought he had anything to do with the disappearance of the boys.’
Startled by this unexpected statement, Elizabeth stared at her aunt. ‘Did some people think that he did?’
Grace Rose simply nodded, her mouth tightening almost imperceptibly.
‘How awful.’ Elizabeth fell silent as Louisa returned and removed the pla
tes. Once they were alone again, she leaned closer to Grace Rose. ‘But what could have happened to your little brothers? The story I heard from my father was so strange, the way they disappeared from the beach at Ravenscar, never to be found again.’
‘It was indeed, and we were all baffled, the police included. Bess and I had our own theories, of course.’
‘And what were they?’ Elizabeth asked eagerly.
Grace Rose was silent, looking reflective, lost in her thoughts. She said at last, ‘We began to think that they had been taken away so that they couldn’t inherit Deravenels. Bess and I toyed with the idea that someone wanted the company for themselves. By removing the boys there were no longer any male heirs to inherit.’
‘My grandmother was the heiress, though!’
‘Yes, she was, and neither of us was stupid, you know. We both understood that whoever married her would be all set to run the company. Because she would have never been accepted at Deravenels as managing director, even though our father had had the rules changes to allow Deravenel women to inherit the top job. It’s always been a male chauvinistic place, as you’re well aware.’
‘So some people tried put the blame on Richard?’
‘Yes. But why would he do it? He loved those boys, and was running the company anyway. He had all the power, money and privilege, and would run it for a good ten to fifteen years, until the boys grew up. That theory didn’t make sense to us at all.’
‘Did you think that Henry Turner was responsible?’ Elizabeth ventured cautiously, her eyes on her aunt.
‘No, we didn’t, and especially when we got to know him better. Anyway, Bess would never have married him if she had thought he was responsible for her brothers’ disappearance. However, we both thought that someone working behind the scenes, someone with their own interests at stake, a hidden agenda perhaps, would be well served if the sons of Edward Deravenel vanished.’
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