Dr Roland had been about to refuse this request, but instead she nodded, gave him a warm smile. ‘Of course, Mr Dunley.’
‘And you can arrange for a private room for Miss Turner, can’t you, Doctor?’ he asked.
‘I’ll attend to it immediately.’
Anka said, ‘I’ll stay with you until Robert returns, Elizabeth.’
‘Thank you, Anka, I’d be grateful for that.’
The following morning Robert went back to the hospital to discover that Elizabeth had been moved from the private room. She was now in the ICU, with tubes in her and was on mechanical ventilation. ‘What on earth has happened?’ he asked Dr Roland, who had taken him into the ICU to see Elizabeth, but only for a moment.
The doctor led him back into the corridor. Once they were outside, she said, ‘She’s sedated and it’s best she is.’ Then she sat down with him on a nearby bench, and explained, ‘During the night she became very feverish, her oxygen requirements went up, and so far she’s shown no response at all to the antibiotics.’
Robert, gripped by anxiety, nevertheless managed to stay calm. He asked, ‘What about the cultures you took? What have they told you?’
‘I’m still awaiting those results, Mr Dunley. In the meantime, I’ve put Miss Turner on different antibiotics, hoping we’ll get some better results. But I have to inform you that this is a most critical stage.’
‘But why? What’s happened?’
‘I think the pneumonia has really grabbed her, and the medicine hasn’t worked. So far. We’re hoping the new antibiotics will do the trick. I’m sure they will,’ she reassured him, aware of his enormous concern.
Robert rubbed a hand over his face, and took a deep breath. ‘People can die from pneumonia … Elizabeth’s not going to die, is she?’
‘As I just told you, Mr Dunley, this is a critical stage, but we’re going to do our best to pull Miss Turner through. And once we have the results of the cultures, we will certainly know more.’
‘Shall I stay here, wait until she wakes up?’ he asked, sounding desperate.
‘I honestly don’t think you should. She may be out of it for hours. In fact, I’m hoping she will be.’
‘I understand,’ he said. ‘And thank you, Dr Roland.’
FORTY
Over the next several days Elizabeth’s situation remained critical and tenuous, and Robert was frantic with worry and totally at a loss. He longed to do something to help her but there was nothing he could do. He was not a doctor, and he was smart enough to understand she was in the best of hands. Dr Smolenski was on the case, and kept him informed of her progress, and he had great trust in Melanie Roland. He had known from the moment he met her in the ER that she was a dedicated doctor.
He went to the hospital twice every day and looked in on Elizabeth, then crept away. He knew that all he could do was wait. And pray. He prayed a lot. And he spoke a lot to London. Cecil was as devastated and anxiety-ridden as he was, and was on the verge of getting on the next plane to New York. ‘Wait another day, until the cultures come back,’ Robert had insisted. But when they finally did come back and he heard the results he was filled with dismay. Dr Roland told him that Elizabeth was positive for one of the rarest forms of pneumonia, and one which had a high death rate.
‘Oh, my God, no! Can’t you save her?’
‘Yes, we can,’ Melanie Roland reassured him. But she wasn’t sure that they could.
Elizabeth lay in the ICU, her eyes closed, face impassive.
Robert stared down at her, loving her so much, unable to do one single thing for her. He turned away from the bed and left, a prayer on his lips. She had to live. She must. What would he do without her?
I am dying. I feel sure of that. I don’t want to die. I’m only twenty-nine years old. I would like to live a little longer. For Robin’s sake. Oh, my God! ROBIN. What will happen to him if I die? He needs me. So I must live. But what if I don’t? I must fight this deadly disease. But if I should die he will be vulnerable. I can’t leave him like that, so terribly exposed. I must protect him. How can I do that? I must ensure that he has a solid place at Deravenels. The best position. Yes, position and wealth. That’s what I have to ensure he has. I need Cecil Williams here. He has to come. I need Cecil, and witnesses, and lawyers. I need to add a codicil to my will.
A day later Cecil Williams arrived in New York. ‘I do wish you had let me come before this,’ Cecil said, staring hard at Robert across the breakfast table in the restaurant of the Carlyle. ‘I’ve been worried to death about Elizabeth, and I still am.’
‘I know you were. And are. But there’s nothing either of us can do. It’s up to the doctors, not us.’
‘How is she really, Robert?’ Cecil’s light grey eyes were troubled.
‘A little better. She’s finally been transferred to another unit, she’s no longer in the ICU, and she’s being weaned off the mechanical ventilator, but she’s not out of the woods yet.’
‘Why not?’ Cecil asked, his voice turning more sombre than ever.
‘There’s always the possibility of a relapse at this stage. But let’s not dwell on that. Let’s hope she gets better, not worse.’
Cecil placed his napkin on the table, and pushed back his chair. ‘I’m ready to go to the hospital, if you are.’
‘Then let’s go. She’ll be thrilled to see you, Cecil,’ Robert said, leaving the restaurant with his friend and colleague.
It was pleasant weather, even though it was November; they walked to the end of the street and managed to hail a cab on Madison Avenue. Robert gave the driver the address of New York Cornell Hospital, sat back on the seat, and said, ‘She’s lost weight, and she’s paler than ever, so don’t be shocked when you see her.’
‘I won’t, I promise,’ Cecil said, but he was when he finally saw her. Elizabeth was gaunt, for one thing, and her face was the whitest he had ever seen it.
He hurried over to the bed, bent down and kissed her cheek, and she took his hand and squeezed it, and the smile reflected in her dark eyes instantly cheered him up. ‘I came as soon as Robert would let me. He’s been very difficult.’
Moving the oxygen mask she was wearing, Elizabeth said, ‘I know. And he was right. I was out of it for a bit. You would have been bored silly, waiting around.’
Robert joined them, gave Elizabeth a kiss, and pulled over a chair for Cecil, went to fetch another one for himself.
Cecil talked to her for a while, mostly about Deravenels, filling her in about a variety of things, and she listened attentively, nodding from time to time.
Watching her keenly, attuned as usual to her every mood, Robert soon noticed that she was beginning to tire. Touching her arm he said, ‘I think we’d better go, let you rest now. We’ll come back and see you again later today.’
Elizabeth nodded, then pulled the mask away. ‘I have to speak to Cecil, Robin. Could you give us a moment?’
‘No problem,’ he answered, and kissed her again. If he was surprised he did not show it. He simply strode out of the room, giving her the privacy she obviously needed.
‘What is it, Elizabeth?’ Cecil asked, leaning closer. ‘Is there something important you need to say?’
She nodded, and took off the mask. ‘If anything happens to me, if I don’t recover, I want Robert Dunley to be made managing director of Deravenels in my place. Promise me you’ll see to it.’
‘But I can’t, Elizabeth! As much as I want to please you. Don’t forget, you would have to have the rules of the company changed in order for that to happen. You see, he’s not a Deravenel, and only a Deravenel can be managing director.’
‘Then let’s change the rules.’ She quickly put the mask back on her face, suddenly needing the oxygen.
‘There would have to be a board meeting for that.’
‘Then let’s think of another title. Administrator maybe, like Edward Selmere was for young Edward.’ She slipped the mask in place again, and leaned forward, grasping Cecil’s arm. After a moment, she
moved the mask and said, ‘I want him to head the company if I die. We must do it now, Cecil. Please. Because I might die, you know.’
‘I’ll do what I can,’ he promised, and then gently made her lean back against the pillows, adjusted the oxygen mask for her, and went to fetch Robert so they could say goodbye, let her rest.
Much to everyone’s relief and delight, Elizabeth Turner came out of the hospital exactly three weeks after being placed in the ICU. She looked thinner than ever, frail, even debilitated, but she had recovered from the rare type of pneumonia which had been a brutal assault on her system and had almost killed her.
‘But here I am, alive and well,’ she exclaimed, settling on the sofa in the sitting room of their suite at the Carlyle. ‘And thank you for being there for me.’ She smiled up at Robert, and at Anka Palitz, then patted the seat next to her. ‘Come and sit here, Cecil,’ she said, her affection for him echoing in her voice. ‘I’m so happy you’re here. Now, shall we order afternoon tea? That’s what I feel like anyway.’
The others agreed, and Robert went to order afternoon tea for four; Anka excused herself, going in search of her handbag, wanting to retrieve the documents she had brought back for Elizabeth. Cecil drew closer to her, and said, ‘I didn’t want to go to the lawyers Deravenels use, Elizabeth. So I’ve arranged for a separate law firm to represent you, regarding Robert being named Administrator, if that becomes necessary.’ He spoke in a confident tone, using this moment they were alone to fill her in. ‘You must give me a date for a meeting with them.’
Elizabeth looked suddenly thoughtful, stared off into the distance, and then she answered softly, ‘I think I prefer to change the rules of the company, Cecil, so that Robin could become managing director if I die. When I get my strength back, and we return to London, I’ll call a special board meeting. I’m sure there won’t be a problem, the board will do what I want.’
Cecil was not so sure she was right about this, but nodded his acquiescence.
Although Robert Dunley had finally relaxed, filled with relief that Elizabeth had made such a good recovery, he was, nevertheless, vigilant about her health and well-being. He had been so frightened, terrified really, by her brush with death he insisted that she slow down.
Once Dr Smolenski said she could travel, they had flown to California to spend Thanksgiving with friends. He had wanted her to recuperate in the warm weather and in a relaxed environment. And even when they returned to London in time for Christmas, he was a hard taskmaster. He created a schedule and she had had no alternative but to stick to it … After all, they did live together and he monitored her all the time. He insisted she keep more normal hours at Deravenels, made sure she ate properly, and forced her to take weekends off.
The regime worked eventually, and as 2001 drew to a close she was finally coming into her own again. It had taken her a whole year, but she was suddenly full of her old vitality and energy.
‘I’m back to being Elizabeth,’ she said to Robert one morning in December of 2001, going into his office adjoining hers. ‘The old Elizabeth, I mean.’ She hovered in the doorway, smiling at him, her expression flirtatious.
Standing up, he went over to her, and took her in his arms. ‘And you look … just fabulous,’ he said, and kissed her on the mouth lightly. ‘I have something for you.’ He continued walking back to his desk. ‘It’s what I call a pre-Christmas present.’
Intrigued, a look of surprise on her face, Elizabeth followed him over to the desk, and took the jewel case he offered. When she opened it she let out a small gasp. ‘Oh, Robin, they’re beautiful!’ She was staring at a pair of emerald-cut emerald earrings, perfectly square with four small diamonds set along the bottom of each earring. ‘Thank you, thank you so much.’ Stepping closer, she hugged him, then kissed him on his cheek.
‘They’re for being a good trouper and following orders,’ he teased, laughing. And she laughed with him. She loved him so much. He was the centre of her life … her entire life, just as she knew she was the centre of his.
PART FOUR
Scuttling the Enemy
‘Look for a long time at what pleases you, and longer still at what pains you …’
Colette
‘Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.’
The Bible: Psalm 23
FORTY-ONE
Robert and his brother Ambrose stood in the middle of the newly erected barn in one of the larger fields at Waverley Court in Kent. An indoor riding ring had been completed during the past week, and they were studying it from every angle.
‘They’ve done a damn good job, Robert,’ Ambrose said, continuing to eye the ring critically. ‘And it’s going to be marvellous for you in winter, especially in the bad weather. You can practise your dressage in total comfort. I notice the builders put central heating around the sides of the barn.’
‘Good thing, too. It can get very cold down here, and there’s frequently a bitter wind blowing off the sea across Romney Marsh. The other barn which I had them build earlier this year turned out to be very cold in the bad weather. I’m going to have central heating installed in that one, too.’
Taking his brother’s arm, Robert walked around the ring one more time, and then they strolled outside.
It was a lovely Saturday morning in early September of 2002. A bright blue sky was dotted with cotton-wool clouds and the sunshine was golden, and warm. Robert glanced up at the sky. ‘There’s nowhere quite as beautiful as England when the weather’s good, is there?’
‘Damn right,’ Ambrose agreed, and stared at Robert, frowning. Then he continued, ‘You’ve never told me what it’s like to be a landowner, the squire, in a sense, of this fantastic property.’
Robert laughed. ‘It’s wonderful, why wouldn’t it be? And frankly I haven’t recovered from my surprise, if you want the truth. I was astonished when Elizabeth gave me Waverley Court. You see, she has always loved this house so much herself.’
‘I know that, and I was surprised for the same reason as you.’
‘It wasn’t like giving it to a stranger,’ Robert remarked. ‘And she’s here every weekend with me. The truth is, she’s going to inherit Stonehurst Farm when Grace Rose goes, and she’s asked Elizabeth not to sell it. Or give it to anyone. She wants it to stay in the family.’
‘And obviously Elizabeth agreed?’
‘She did, Ambrose. How could she not? Grace Rose has made her the heir, left her virtually everything, her entire estate, in fact.’
‘I understand. Waverley Court must be expensive to run, isn’t it?’ Ambrose ventured, glancing at his brother as they walked in the direction of the rose garden which Robert was creating and building.
‘It’s not too bad. We don’t have a big staff, only Toby and Myrtle, and some daily cleaning help when we’re here. Toby grooms the horses, and generally keeps the property in good shape, but I do have a gardener now. Anyway, Elizabeth made a trust fund for the upkeep of Waverley Court, on the lines of the one which Edward Deravenel put in place for Ravenscar. Also, she has created a trust for me personally, which gives me an income.’
Ambrose was delighted by this news, and exclaimed, ‘I’m glad Elizabeth has looked after you properly, Robert. You work like a bloody fiend at Deravenels, and are devoted to the company. And to Elizabeth. And after all, your relationship is a marriage … without the benefit of a piece of paper.’
Robert said quietly, ‘I believe it to be that, yes, and don’t think I haven’t wanted to make it legal, because I have. Elizabeth won’t. So I don’t push her any more. It’s better to leave it alone, and I’m quite happy with the status quo. It’s not that she doesn’t want to marry me. She just doesn’t want to marry anybody, an
d she’s stubborn about it.’
Ambrose was silent for a moment, and although he knew better than to intrude on his brother’s private life, he couldn’t stop himself from saying, ‘But don’t you want children?’
Robert remained silent, and walked on, hurrying now. Ambrose kept up with him and after a moment he said, ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.’
‘I know.’ Robert sighed. ‘I would like children, but she’s more important to me than anything else, she’s always been my priority. We ought to have children, though, because of her need for an heir, but she turns a deaf ear to that. We’re both only thirty-one, so there’s still time, Ambrose. Can you believe it, Elizabeth and I have been living together for six years now? Tempus fugit, eh?’
‘Yes, time does indeed fly,’ Ambrose agreed. ‘And where is Elizabeth this morning?’
‘With Grace Rose. She went to see her at Stonehurst Farm where she’s been living all summer. She’s actually one hundred and two years old, but you’d never guess it. She looks wonderful and she has all her marbles. By the way, you are staying for the weekend, aren’t you? I didn’t see a suitcase.’
‘Toby took it off me the moment I arrived earlier. And as my wife is in New York on business, of course I’m here for the weekend. I brought a very large suitcase.’
‘Then by now it’s up in your room and unpacked! Myrtle is very efficient. And incidentally, in case you didn’t know, Elizabeth has been very generous to Cecil Williams. She created a trust fund for him, gave him land she owned so he could build a house, and bought him a Bentley. Which I couldn’t believe he wanted, he’s so laid-back and low-key.’ Robert put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. ‘I’m not the only one she’s rewarded.’
‘I know that. She’s created a pension fund for me, and also for Francis and Nicholas … she’s been generous to all of us and to a fault.’ By now they had arrived at the sunken garden, and Ambrose was surprised at the progress Robert had made. ‘This is gorgeous! And what beautiful roses!’ he exclaimed.
Being Elizabeth Page 34