‘Somehow, I think of him as being sort of … soft about you when he got older, when he’d accepted you back into the fold.’
‘Nicer anyway. He didn’t abuse me any more.’
‘Did he really abuse you?’ Robert’s eyes fastened on hers, and searchingly so.
‘Not sexually or physically, I don’t mean that. He abused me verbally. And also emotionally. You know very well he rejected me, disowned me at one point. And even when I was a toddler he shunned me. He was horrific as a father in those days, and everyone said so,’ Elizabeth confided.
‘It was because of your mother, I’m certain of that.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I remember my parents talking about his attitude towards her. As I recall it, he took umbrage because Anne wouldn’t give up her career as an interior designer, and he grew suspicious about her, you know. He thought she was having affairs, something like that. And then she was in that awful car accident with her brother and some of his friends … in the south of France …’
‘I know she died in that crash, but what are you getting at precisely, Robin?’
‘I have a feeling that … well … somehow he blamed your mother for the crash. I’m just not sure any more, it’s so long ago now. However, according to my father, Harry did manage to sort of … well, cast aspersions about your mother’s … character.’
‘So I heard. My half-sister lost no time in telling me that. At a certain point in his life my father did become a monster and behaved badly.’
‘All those wives, Elizabeth! Six altogether. Good God, no wonder you don’t want to get married … he didn’t set a very good example, did he?’ Robert shook his head. ‘He was certainly a dyed-in-the-wool womanizer.’
‘True. Still, I think he was also trying to have a male heir. My sister and I weren’t enough … he wanted a boy. And he got a boy, who died young, so all that pain he caused everyone was in vain, wasn’t it?’
‘None of us know what life has in store for us,’ Robert answered, and observing the pensive expression on her face, he added, ‘Now it’s my turn … What image of me do you have in your head?’
She smiled, almost to herself, and gave him a flirtatious glance. ‘The image I have of you goes back about a year or two – when we were out of favour with the dreaded Mary Turner. You brought me some flowers, a lovely bouquet of sweet peas, and told me you would be there for me … and there was another time when you sent me some money. Do you remember?’
‘I certainly do. I wanted to help you because I loved you.’
‘But not quite the way you love me now,’ she asserted.
He bit back an amused smile. ‘That’s true.’
Leaning closer, she whispered, ‘Now I have so many new images of you in my head, all of them very romantic and sexy. Did you know you’re a very sexy man, Robin? I bet a lot of women have told you that.’
His answer was to pull her into his arms and kiss her passionately, and within the space of a few minutes they were making love. And that was the way it was for the remainder of the weekend.
TWENTY
And that is how it began, our great love affair, on a cold, bleak weekend at Ravenscar in March. Now it is June and we are in Paris, and as usual enjoying every moment in this glorious City of Light.
I am passionately in love with Robin, and he is with me. He calls it being madly in love, and I know what he means. Because there is a certain madness about being so completely consumed by another person and living on a strange but marvellous plane together, where the rest of the world does not exist.
We both think it’s odd that after knowing each other for so many years we suddenly fell in love at the age of twenty-five. Robin says it’s like being hit by a truck, and he’s right. One day we were best friends, the next lovers. We are never apart now, spend every waking moment together, and every sleeping moment as well, actually. Robin has moved into my flat and we are living together. He has kept his own place and goes there every other day to check on things, but he does not spend much time there now. It is hard for us to be apart, and I know I will feel this way for the rest of my life because Robin is part of me, part of my soul. Without him my life would be desolate, and I would be filled with total misery. He is my life in so many ways. Robin and Deravenels are my existence.
Of course, work intrudes on our private time when he has to travel. At the moment he is going back and forth to Marbella, to check on the progress of the resort. He is very pleased with its development, and I was impressed myself when I saw it in April. There is no question that it is truly a beautiful place, and I see only success in the future. Philip Alvarez did one thing right: he bought a magnificent piece of land at the edge of the sea.
It was when we got back from Marbella that the gossip started. The news of our involvement spread through Deravenels like wildfire, and there were lots of comments, snide remarks, and jibes. But we’ve paid no attention. We don’t care what people think … anyway, the world is well lost to us.
We have been very open about our relationship, and have not tried to hide it. In fact, quite the contrary. We’re out and about all the time. Robin is a social animal, as am I, and we love the theatre, in particular, as well as dinner parties and entertaining friends. We give to charities, and attend charity events because we believe in giving back. As a consequence, a lot is written about us in newspaper columns, and photographs of us constantly appear in magazines. All this adds fuel to the fire.
As for Amy, Robin never mentions her and neither do I. The only thing he has ever asked me is why I was crying when I brought her name up that night at Ravenscar. And I told him the truth … I said I didn’t know. And he accepted my answer.
In all honesty, it doesn’t matter to me whether he gets a divorce or not. And my darling Robin knows that, just as he knows I don’t want to get married. I’ve always felt that way. He touched on one of the reasons why recently, when he said my father had been a bad example for me. But then there was the admiral … Tom Selmere wasn’t exactly the ideal husband … married to my father’s widow and endeavouring to get me into bed. And what of my father’s fifth attempt at marriage? His lovely young wife Katherine had taken lovers and was so silly, rash and indiscreet she got caught and was divorced and sent away. No, marriage does not tempt me. Quite the opposite. I’m happy as I am. He loves me, I know he does, and with all his heart, and honestly, that’s enough for me.
We often come to Paris to have a bit of privacy. I like this hotel Robin discovered several years ago, the Relais Christine. It’s not too far from the Latin Quarter, and is a tiny auberge which was once a former abbey dating back to the thirteenth century. It has a quaint and lovely charm about it; our suite overlooks a cobbled flower-filled courtyard, and has a private terrace, another of the things we enjoy about it. This aside, it’s blessed with a unique tranquillity, and Robin and I both feel as if we are in the middle of the country when we are actually in the heart of Saint Germain with Notre-Dame just a stone’s throw away …
At the sound of the key in the door, Elizabeth went in from the terrace, an expectant expression on her face.
Robert smiled as he closed the door behind him, put down the shopping bags he was carrying, and took her in his arms, gave her a big hug.
Holding her away from him he searched her face swiftly. ‘I’m glad to see you looking so much better, darling. You seemed awfully drained earlier.’
‘I was a bit tired, but I’m fine now.’ She glanced across at the shopping bags and said, ‘What did you buy? You look as if you’ve been on a shopping spree.’
‘Sit down and I’ll show you.’ He brought the four shopping bags over to the seating area near the French windows opening onto the terrace, handed her one. ‘This is for you.’
‘Chanel! How wonderful. Thank you. What is it?’
‘You’ll see when you open it.’
‘It’s the one handbag I wanted!’ she cried after opening the package. ‘Oh, thank you, Robin. I asked B
lanche to pick it up, but Chanel in London had none left.’
‘Well, there it is, and it comes with much love.’
Jumping up, she went over and kissed him, then asked, ‘And what are the rest?’
‘A Chanel handbag for Merry, not the same as yours, but one she had set her heart on. A wallet for Ambrose, and a couple of ties for Cecil Williams, the latter from the two of us.’
‘It’s so nice of you, Robin, and I know they’ll like their gifts.’ Settling back in the chair, she changed the subject. ‘How are things at Deravenels?’
‘The same. The Paris office operates very well, and I like Jacques Bettancourt a lot. He’s a really good chap, runs a tight ship, but with a great deal of charm, and not a little flair. I wish the other foreign managers were like him. Some of them have been hard to deal with.’
‘Naturally. We’ve been cutting staff to lower the cost of overheads, and why would they like that? But you’ve done well.’
‘I can’t take any bows, Elizabeth, it’s all Nicholas. He’s been brilliant the way he has retired people with pensions, let others go with really good bonuses, so there are no hard feelings. It’s cost us a lot, but we’ll be saving a fortune in salaries in the long run. Thanks to Nicholas, it’s gone smoothly.’
‘He’s always been good at making people swallow a bitter pill, because he manages to have a sweeter one ready. Are we having dinner with him tonight?’
‘We are. He’s insisting on taking us to Le Grand Véfour … he insists, says it’s your favourite.’
‘It is, actually. I especially like the idea that Napoleon took Josephine there for romantic dinners, and anyway I love the décor.’
He laughed. ‘That’s what you usually say about restaurants. You talk about the decorations, not the food. And before you say it, I know you’re not a foodie.’
She nodded, picked up the quilted red fabric Chanel handbag again and examined it, said almost to herself, ‘I really wanted this …’
Watching her, Robert realized that she looked painfully thin this afternoon. Funny how he had not noticed it before; perhaps it was the black dress she was wearing. Had she lost more weight? He was constantly worrying about her eating habits. She had a small appetite, had been something of a picky eater since childhood. Highly strung by nature, she had had several fainting spells lately, and was often irritable these days.
‘What’s wrong? Why are you staring at me like that, Robin?’
‘Just admiring you in that chic black linen dress, my sweet.’
She gave him a long slow smile and said, ‘I’m so happy you brought Merry into the company. She’s become my good right hand.’
‘I’m glad. And Ambrose is mine, as far as the Marbella Project is concerned. He’s taken a lot of the backache out of it for me, and, frankly, I’d have to be there a lot of the time if it weren’t for him. He’s being a good stand-in.’
She nodded. ‘It’s nice to be surrounded by your family, Robin …’ She reached out and touched his arm. ‘Thank you for that.’
‘My family, at least what’s left of it, love you, Elizabeth, and they’ll do anything for you … anything at all. They have a lot of respect for you as well as much affection.’ He leaned forward and fixed his gaze on her. ‘Has Cecil said anything to you about me? What I mean is, about you and me being involved?’
‘No, he hasn’t. Somewhat surprisingly, in my opinion. But lately I’ve noticed him looking at me in the most peculiar way at times. I’ve been trying to pinpoint the exact look in his eyes, and I think I would describe it as … perplexity.’
‘I see. The gossip’s risen to a bit of a crescendo at the London office, so Nicholas told me this afternoon. He says it’ll die down, that we shouldn’t pay too much attention, just go about our business, get on with our lives.’
‘I agree, and frankly I’m not surprised. We’ve become a bit of an item in the press lately. Young, beautiful, successful and in Love with a capital L. That seems to be the latest headline.’
Standing up, Robert went to Elizabeth, helped her to her feet, put his arm around her and led her into the bedroom. ‘I think we should have a rest before dinner, don’t you?’
‘A rest? No. But I’d like to lie down next to you, my darling, and make passionate love.’
‘Then so we shall.’
Located under the ancient arches of the Palais-Royal, Le Grand Vefour dated back to before the French Revolution. It was first opened in 1784, when it was called the Café des Chartres, and over the last few hundred years it had been the favourite watering hole of many celebrated people … Napoleon and Josephine, writers Victor Hugo and Colette, as well as French politicians, famous painters, great names of the theatre, and movie stars who considered themselves to be in the know.
Elizabeth had first come here with Aunt Grace Rose, who had brought her to Paris as a special birthday treat when she was nineteen. Although she had only dined here on one other occasion, she had never forgotten this beautiful, almost other-worldly restaurant. It had left an indelible impression on her.
To her, the main room appeared to float around the diners because of the old, scarred mirrors which reflected the light and were used on the ceiling and some of the walls. The mirrors were encased in pitted gold frames, and were balanced by neoclassical paintings of nymphs bedecked with flowers and vines. These paintings were covered with protective glass because of their antiquity, and overall there was a truly magical effect in the dining room. This once again entranced Elizabeth when they arrived.
Nicholas was waiting for them, and he stood up, greeting them both effusively and kissing Elizabeth on the cheek.
‘Sit here, Elizabeth, and you, too, Robert.’ Nicholas indicated the red velvet banquette against the wall, added, ‘You’ll find it comfortable.’
‘If you don’t mind, I’d prefer a chair,’ Robert replied, and once Elizabeth was sitting down on the banquette, he lowered himself onto a black-and-gold antique chair, and Nicholas sat next to Elizabeth.
‘I’ve ordered a bottle of Krug,’ Nicholas announced, turning to Elizabeth. ‘It’ll be here in a minute, and we shall then toast your upcoming auction. Robert had me mesmerized this afternoon in the office, telling me all about your plans. I was gobsmacked when he said that you could make as much as fifty million pounds. Actually, I can hardly take that in.’
‘It’s because there’s so much stuff, much of it passed down from various families, all of whom were my relatives. I can hardly believe it myself. But the experts from Sotheby’s are convinced it will be the auction of the year. You see, there’s a lot of fine art, Nicholas, really good paintings, mountains of Cartier jewellery, silver and gold plate, as well as furniture. And it’s all very valuable.’
‘Robert told me you’ll be selling the Chelsea house … I always liked that place, it’s a gem.’
‘Yes, it is, and I’m hoping some Russian oligarch or a billionaire businessman will snap it up for sixty or seventy million pounds.’
‘It’s gone up!’ Robert announced, an amused expression flitting across his face. ‘Only a few days ago, it was a mere forty million.’
‘Sotheby’s again, Robin. Their real estate team consider it unique. You know it’s Regency, it’s in perfect condition, with a new kitchen and new bathrooms. Because it’s on the Thames, and has a large garden, they believe I might even get more, actually.’
At this moment the waiter arrived with the bottle of chilled Krug, put it in the silver ice bucket, popped the cork, poured the pink champagne, and departed with a nod.
Lifting his flute, Nicholas said, ‘Here’s to the Deravenel–Turner Collections!’
‘The Collections,’ Elizabeth said, and they all clinked glasses.
After a couple of minutes had elapsed, Elizabeth turned to Nicholas. ‘I want to ask you something … it’s quite important to me.’
‘Ask me anything.’
‘Do you know anyone with Deravenel shares who might want to sell them to me? I’ll pay a premium.�
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Nicholas shook his head. ‘Off hand, no, I don’t. But there might be a few people, especially those shareholders who have retired recently, or widows and children of former directors who inherited shares. Knowing you as well as I do, you’re thinking of Marie Stewart, but she doesn’t have as many shares in Deravenels as you do. Not by a long shot.’
‘That’s true, but how do we know whether or not she controls shares held by straw men?’
‘We don’t, of course,’ Robert interjected. ‘But we can soon find out. We can do a discreet investigation. You know Francis is a genius at that sort of thing.’
‘Is that why you’re having the auction, to get money to buy more shares?’ Nicholas gave her a long curious look.
‘Yes. And no. Of course I need cash to buy shares, but I also want to develop a war chest, in case Deravenels suddenly needs operating money. Or if I have to fight the … French lady.’ Elizabeth took a swallow of champagne and finished, ‘But I don’t want all these possessions anyway. They’re a burden, a nuisance. We live in a different world today.’
‘I understand.’ Nicholas sat back, his eyes growing reflective. After a moment, he said quietly, ‘Without a doubt, Marie Stewart is going to be troublesome at some point, because she’s got a bee in her bonnet about Deravenels. However, she can’t win, Elizabeth, not in the end, because of your father’s will. It’s absolutely legal and it will stand up in any court of law.’
‘Listen to Nicholas, Elizabeth.’ Robert leaned across the table, focusing on her. ‘He’s telling you the truth, and don’t forget you’re surrounded by lawyers … including Cecil, and Francis Walsington. You’re well protected and have the best legal advice.’
‘She can only get her hands on Deravenels if you die without an heir,’ Nicholas pointed out.
‘That’s not necessarily true,’ Elizabeth shot back. ‘What about all the Greysons? They were particularly favoured by my brother Edward, and they are my cousins also, and in line to inherit. Furthermore, I can appoint an heir, can’t I?’
Being Elizabeth Page 17