‘Good morning, Mr Walsington,’ Marie Stewart said in accented English, as she took hold of his outstretched hand in a firm grip. ‘It is my great pleasure to welcome you to Dauphin. I would like to introduce you to my husband, François de Burgh, President of Dauphin.’
‘Good morning, Madame de Burgh,’ Francis said, turned, and shook her husband’s hand. ‘Monsieur de Burgh, bonjour.’
‘Bonjour, Monsieur Walsington,’ François murmured, his voice also accented, low but pleasant. He gave Francis a friendly smile. Shorter than his wife, he was as dark as she was fair, with a somewhat plain face. They seemed an odd couple to Francis, most especially because of the disparity in their heights.
Marie Stewart led them to a small seating arrangement at the far end of the large office, and they all took their seats. She sat on the edge of her chair, seemed eager to begin, and leaning slightly forward she focused on Francis. ‘When I was informed you wished to come and speak with us, I knew at once that Elizabeth had sent you. That is true, is it not, monsieur?’
‘It was the board of directors as well as Elizabeth herself who wished me to come and see you, Madame de Burgh. And our lawyers. Indeed, we all thought it was a good idea that we meet, regarding the announcement you made.’ He glanced at François, and added, ‘An announcement about staking a claim in the UK and taking over a global company, so well spelled out in the interview you recently gave to the New York Herald Tribune.’
François was quick to answer. ‘Yes, that is indeed what we wish to do, Monsieur Walsington. Like everyone else these days, we wish to take Dauphin global.’
‘By attempting to take over Deravenels?’
‘I did not mention Deravenels, Monsieur Walsington,’ the Frenchman said swiftly, sounding a little indignant.
‘That’s perfectly true, but Deravenels is the largest and most successful global company in Britain, and we are well equipped to read between the lines; as are our lawyers.’
Fixing her amber-coloured eyes on Francis, Marie Stewart said in a somewhat colder tone than before, ‘That is the second time you have mentioned lawyers, monsieur. Are you making … a threat?’
‘No, not at all, Madame. But it is usual for us to consult our various solicitors when there’s even the merest suggestion that another company might be eyeing us, considering us a possible target. And very frankly, the board thought it was vital that I talk to you, mainly to explain how complex Deravenels is as a company.’
She looked at him intently, and after a moment asked, ‘What do you mean by complex?’
‘Let me explain as concisely as I can, Madame. As I’m sure you know, Deravenels is a private company; the shares are not publicly traded and they are very rarely sold. In fact, they only occasionally change hands, usually when someone holding our shares dies and leaves them to a family member, as part of an inheritance. And –’
‘I have shares!’ Marie Stewart exclaimed, cutting in, giving him a hard stare.
‘I know that, Madame. Shares which you inherited from your grandmother.’
‘And it is through her that I am the heir to Deravenels.’
Ignoring this, Francis went on in a cool, steady voice, ‘Quite apart from this particular and rather unusual situation with the shares of Deravenels, there are also other rules which make it virtually impossible for any kind of takeover. Certain rules were introduced within the last seventy odd years. However, most of those changes don’t need discussion here. Except for one, which was made by Harry Turner. In his will he debarred Deravenels from passing to a foreigner … only an English person can inherit.’
‘I am English,’ Marie Stewart announced in a rather harsh voice, her face livid.
‘Hardly, Madame, with all due respect. Your mother is French and your late father was Scottish, therefore you are not English by any stretch of the imagination. Also, you were brought to France at the age of five and have been raised as a Frenchwoman. The claim won’t fly.’
‘But my grandmother was English!’ Her voice rose, becoming shrill.
‘That’s not enough. It does not comply with Harry Turner’s will. Also, you must remember he inherited Deravenels from his father, and in Harry’s will it is very clearly written that the company must be inherited first by his son Edward, then his daughter Mary, and finally Elizabeth, if his other issue are deceased, and have left no issue of their own. Harry Turner’s will aside, there are numerous other rules that simply preclude a takeover, rules which block this absolutely. Anyone attempting to grab Deravenels cannot succeed. Furthermore, Elizabeth Turner, the current managing director, is the largest single shareholder, holding fifty-five per cent of the stock. She is inviolable.’
Marie Stewart sat back in the chair, regarding Walsington. Although she was inexperienced, she was by no means stupid. But she was naive and her right to Deravenels had been inculcated in her since she was a toddler. Her French uncles and her mother had done their work well, had completely brainwashed her and she was not about to give in quite so easily.
‘I do have a claim, Monsieur Walsington,’ she finally said in a clear, light voice, suddenly full of confidence. ‘Through my great-grandfather Henry Turner and his wife Bess Deravenel Turner, my great-grandmother. They had a daughter, Margaret, sister of Harry, and it is through her that I am the heir. But since Elizabeth, my cousin, is running the company, let me address myself to her situation. If she fell ill and died, or had an accident, I would be the heir. There is no one else.’
‘But Deravenels cannot pass to a foreigner, I just told you that. Madame de Burgh, you would be considered a foreigner.’
‘But there are no other descendants of Henry Turner,’ she protested shrilly.
Francis Walsington, who knew everything there was to know about everybody involved with Deravenels, was very well aware that there were other cousins. But he decided to cut this conversation short. ‘I do believe I’ve explained things extremely clearly, and put you on notice that you should not in any way attempt a takeover of Deravenels. It just won’t happen, because it cannot happen. Please believe me, our complex rules are watertight. It would be a waste of your time, effort and money. Or anyone else’s for that matter.’
Marie Stewart looked reflective, her slightly hooded eyes lowered as she stared down at her hands in her lap. Francis noticed that, like Elizabeth, she had the most beautiful hands, well shaped and with long tapering fingers. Finally she lifted her head, and gave him a direct look. ‘I would like you to convey my respects and give my love to my cousin, Monsieur Walsington. My cousin. Do remember that. And I would deem it a great favour if you would ask her if she will name me as her heir in her will.’
For a moment Francis Walsington was gobsmacked, and he blinked. But he was a past master of dissimulation and his face remained expressionless as he answered with swiftness, ‘I think that is a little premature on your part, Madame. Elizabeth Turner is only twenty-six, and she is certain to marry and –’
‘Robert Dunley? He is a married man!’
‘– and have children,’ he continued, undeterred by her interruption.
‘But will you ask her?’ Marie Stewart persisted. ‘And please tell her I wish to meet her.’
‘I will repeat this entire conversation verbatim,’ Francis answered, and stood up. ‘If you will excuse me, I must leave. I have a plane to catch. Thank you for your courtesy, Madame, and yours, Monsieur de Burgh.’
THIRTY
Francis, Robert, Cecil and Nicholas sat with Elizabeth in her office, the five of them grouped around the coffee table which was placed in the centre of the seating arrangement near the windows.
It was Francis Walsington who had held their attention for the last thirty minutes, filling them in about his trip to Paris, and relating his conversation verbatim, giving every detail of the meeting with Marie Stewart de Burgh and her husband François de Burgh.
None of the men looked happy, and all of them sat staring at Elizabeth, who appeared extremely thoughtful. After a moment, she s
aid quietly, ‘I don’t want to meet Marie Stewart. I think doing so would be totally wrong, harmful to me in the long run.’
‘It would certainly give credence to her claim that she should be your heir,’ Cecil said, his eyes troubled. ‘And you cannot name her your heir. Ever. In fact, at this moment in time you cannot name anyone.’
‘It would put you in danger if you named Marie Stewart de Burgh,’ Robert Dunley announced, his voice tense, his expression worried. ‘There’s been many a murder made to look like an accident.’
‘You think Marie Stewart de Burgh might have me bumped off, do you, Robin?’ Elizabeth threw him a look, and went on, ‘Well, you and I certainly know about murder being committed over the ownership of Deravenels, don’t we?’
‘There have always been rumours,’ Nicholas Throckman announced before Robert could answer. ‘And in my opinion those rumours have been based on truths. Fishy deaths seem to have been the norm around here for eighty years or so.’ He glanced at Francis, and asked, ‘I’m not wrong, am I?’
‘No, you’re not. Aubrey Masters was head of the mining division and his death was highly suspicious. And so was Lily Overton’s, Edward Deravenel’s mistress. She was carrying his child at the time. Then there was the extraordinary disappearance of Edward Deravenel’s young sons, as well as Richard Deravenel’s death by stabbing on the beach at Ravenscar. That was most definitely a murder, it certainly wasn’t suicide, he didn’t stab himself. And let’s not forget Will Hasling’s untimely death. There are those who believed he had been in a fight with Richard Deravenel in this very office. Old reports I’ve read claim he struck his head hard in here when he fell … and that this led to his subsequent death. I would still call it murder.’
‘You don’t have to tell me that people commit murder for personal gain, for money and power,’ Cecil remarked. ‘I know that only too well. Which brings me back to my original point.’ He glanced at Elizabeth. ‘You must not name anyone as your heir. Or if you do, no one can know about it. Robert is correct. Naming your heir publicly could genuinely put you in danger. Let’s not forget that people, whoever they are, can be quite unscrupulous.’
Nicholas turned to Elizabeth and said, ‘There is a certain amount of truth in what Marie Stewart said to Francis. If you were dead she would actually be the heir, because she is directly descended from Henry Turner.’
‘You have other cousins, don’t forget that!’ Robert interjected in a strong tone, staring at her. ‘First cousins, no less, which makes them closer to you than Marie Stewart. She is your first cousin once removed.’
‘You’re correct, Robin.’ She threw him a curious little half smile. ‘As you well know. And they are indeed first cousins.’ Now focusing on Nicholas, she explained, ‘You may have forgotten that my father’s youngest sister Mary, his favourite, married his best friend Charles Brandt, and they had two daughters. One of them, the eldest, is Frances Brandt, my first cousin, and she is married to Harry Greyson. Three of their children survived … Jane, Catherine and Mary – favourite names in our family, I suppose. And of course they do figure in the “cousins” equation. Very much so.’
‘But not Jane Greyson,’ Robert reminded her. ‘She died.’
‘Yes,’ she responded quietly, remembering that Jane had been married to one of Robin’s brothers, and that sadly they had been killed together in a plane crash.
Cecil said, ‘I think this calls for some very special security for Elizabeth, Francis. Don’t you agree?’
‘I don’t want any bodyguards!’ she cried.
Francis nodded. ‘I think it would be wise if you did. A driver who’s also a bodyguard, Elizabeth. Think about that. And I promise it won’t be someone who gets in your way, or is heavy-handed.’
‘All right,’ she agreed with a small sigh, wanting to move on. ‘So what’s your assessment of the de Burghs? Can you sum everything up for us, please, Francis.’
‘I surely can. First of all, let’s talk about the de Burghs themselves for a moment. They’re playing silly buggers, in my opinion. He’s naive and inexperienced, especially in business. So is she, and they are both young, also extremely spoiled. Used to getting their own way, I’d say. He didn’t participate at all in the meeting. She did all of the talking and I suspect she wears the trousers. She’s six months older, by the way. I would characterize François de Burgh as an empty suit. As for Marie Stewart, it was very obvious to me that she is obstinate, wilful, a bit imperious and certainly obsessed about her connection to the Turners, through her late grandmother. However, the connection seems to impress her more than anyone else. I have it on good authority that the executives who really run Dauphin couldn’t care less about the Turner connection. Nor are they interested in Deravenels. I learned last night that the top brass at Dauphin weren’t too happy about the Herald Tribune interview, or about the idea of Dauphin staking a claim in the UK. Contrary to what I originally thought, I don’t believe the de Burghs will have much say about what happens at the head office.’ He grinned at them, and shrugged. ‘We are perfectly safe.’
Nicholas and Cecil laughed, and Elizabeth asked, ‘What is she like actually? What was your first impression of her?’
‘She has a pleasant personality, but let’s not confuse personality with character,’ Francis said. ‘Her husband is weak, so she seems the stronger of the two. I don’t believe she’s too swift.’
‘Is she as beautiful as everyone says?’ Elizabeth now asked.
‘No, she’s not, but she’s an extremely attractive young woman,’ Francis answered. ‘She’s got the famous Henry Turner build … tall and slender, and she’s willowy, moves gracefully. She’s inherited the Turner colouring as well. Pale complexion, red-gold hair. I would go as far as to say that she has a look of you.’
‘Some good that’ll do her,’ Elizabeth said pithily.
‘It’s like this, Cecil,’ Elizabeth explained later that morning. ‘I want to own as many Deravenel shares as I possibly can.’
‘But you are already holding more than anyone else,’ he pointed out. ‘Fifty-five per cent.’
‘I’m well aware of that. But I would like to have at least seventy per cent of the company. It would make me feel better. Safer.’
‘I doubt very much that anyone will sell their shares to you. Not because it’s you, and they’re holding out, but because the shares are extremely lucrative, even now, despite Mary’s careless running of the company. We’re in the black, and the measures we’ve taken in the last eleven months have done wonders. Tightening our belt, letting redundant people go, retiring others was a brilliant idea on your part. Then the spas in the American hotels are doing record business, as are the hotels themselves. We’re on a very big upswing, and shareholders know that.’ Cecil sat back, and smiled at her warmly. ‘You should be proud of what you’ve done, and also relieved to know that management at Dauphin aren’t particularly interested in taking us over.’
‘I am, and Francis made it very clear that a great deal of that takeover stuff is in her head. He told me he thought Marie Stewart was delusional.’
‘That’s more than likely. From what I understand, the uncles and her mother did a brainwashing job on her that genuinely rivals the Pavlov technique used on dogs.’
Elizabeth burst out laughing. Then taking a deep breath, she said, ‘I need your advice about something else, Cecil. A company that I can buy … It’s a chain of spas called Blissful Encounters, and it’s owned by an American woman, Anka Palitz, who lives in New York. Anne Dunley told me about Anka, and apparently she wants to sell the chain. Do you think I should buy it?’
‘It depends on how good the spas are, how much she wants, and if you think they will enhance the spas you are about to open.’
‘I think they probably will. They are on the high end, lux urious, very glamorous, I’m told.’
‘I’d like more details,’ Cecil said.
‘I would, too. And once I have them, I hope we can have another discussion.’ She looked at
her watch. ‘I’ve got a meeting with Sotheby’s about the auction, so I must dash. Thanks, Cecil, thank you for everything.’
He walked her to the door of his office, and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Walk, don’t run,’ he said with an affectionate glance. ‘Things are going very well for us, Elizabeth. Very well indeed.’
‘I know, thanks to you and Robin. We’re a good team, aren’t we? The Three Musketeers.’
‘The triumvirate,’ he replied.
‘Thank you so much for seeing me today, Grace Rose,’ Elizabeth said two hours later. ‘I really do need to talk to you.’
‘It’s always my pleasure when you come over, Elizabeth, you know that. And especially when you want my advice. I like feeling useful. I don’t have much to do these days, you know. As I keep telling you, I’m living on borrowed time.’
‘Borrowed or not, I’m thankful you’re still around. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
‘You’d manage very well, there’s no doubt in my mind about that. You’re going to be fine … all of your life. But, of course, it’s going to be an extreme life as it always has been. Never mind. You’ll enjoy all of the challenges you’ll meet. And you’ll succeed.’
Elizabeth laughed, and took a sip of the sherry Grace Rose had insisted she pour for both of them. ‘Down the hatch,’ she said, after touching her glass to her great-aunt’s. ‘It’s only four o’clock, Grace Rose, a bit early for a drink …’ She let her voice trail off.
‘Don’t worry about the time, Elizabeth. It must be the cocktail hour somewhere in the world… Paris or even the Punjab. Anyway, my dear girl, a small glass of sherry is not going to get you drunk.’ After taking a sip of the Amontillado, Grace Rose gave Elizabeth a questioning look, asked, ‘What do you wish to speak to me about? Deravenels no doubt, since your love life is well taken care of by our lovely Robert.’
Being Elizabeth Page 26